A teen spotted a rare pair of birds in DC Then came another surprise

Out walking his beagle-dachshund in his Northeast Washington neighborhood last summer, Sam Talley, 15, first heard the distinct call, which sounds a bit like a two-note whistle.

Within minutes, he knew it was a Mississippi kite — a small hawk that’s more commonly found in places like Texas and Oklahoma.

“I knew it,” he said. “It was the call. Then I saw it over my head, and I ran home to get my mom’s phone.”

Seeing a nesting pair of Mississippi kites in the District was an exceptionally rare event.

Then in May, the pair returned to their 50-foot-high nest in an oak tree a block from Sam’s house. And by summer, the pair had delivered another surprise.

“A white ball of fluff,” Sam said.

It was the first known case of a nesting pair of kites starting a family in the District.

“To have a new breeding species is a big deal,” said Dan Rauch, D.C.’s wildlife biologist. “For our small territory to have a new bird that’s setting up and starting to breed here is really something special.”

Formally known as Ictinia mississippiensis, Mississippi kites are birds of prey, like eagles and red-tailed hawks. They’re gray with dark tails, measure about a foot long and have a roughly 3-foot wingspan. Their most distinctive feature: a pair of striking red eyes.

They can be found in Mississippi and, more commonly, elsewhere in the southeastern U.S. But in the last decade, scientists said, they’ve gradually expanded their range northward, reaching as far as New Hampshire and Maine. They’ve also been spotted elsewhere in the Washington region, including Rockville and Fairfax.

Their expansion, Rauch said, is a sign they’re thriving and adapting to urban and suburban areas. Like other raptors, they have also benefited from the ban on harmful pesticides such as DDT. As their population has grown, they’ve headed into new territories.

Mississippi kites migrate south in the winter in flocks of several hundred, Rauch said. They swoop and snag prey — usually bugs such as cicadas and dragonflies — on their journey to South America. They’re nicknamed “mosquito hawks,” Rauch said, because they’ll often do aerobatic displays as they catch their meals midair. They’ll sometimes even snatch a small reptile or mammal.

Experts said the pair of Mississippi kites likely picked the oak near Sam’s house — in the Woodridge neighborhood near Michigan Avenue NE — as a good place to land because they prefer tall trees and it’s in a relatively quiet part of the city. Each morning, Sam and other local birders have watched them bring sticks to support their nest and take turns hunting.

Based on its size, Rauch said the chick likely hatched in early July. It appears to be eating well, and will likely fledge the nest in mid-August, he said.

Like stamp collectors, birders are often known to keep “life lists,” a record of every species they’ve seen. They’ll often note rare sightings on Cornell Lab’s ornithology app, eBird.

“It’s exciting that people who have never had the chance to see a Mississippi kite go out in our city and catch a glimpse of them,” said Rauch. “It’s one to write down.”

Last week, Harper Coleman, who lives in Woodley Park and wears pileated woodpecker socks, was wandering around the neighborhood looking up when Sam’s dad, Michael Talley, asked if he was there for the kites.

Indeed, he was. But he was having no luck. Talley showed him the best viewing spot — an alley near the nest.

“Do you see it?” Sam asked Coleman a few minutes later, as they both pressed binoculars to their eyes.

“Oh wow. It’s beautiful,” Coleman said. He watched one of the adults fly out of the nest, then looked back again.

“The chick is sitting up,” Coleman said. “It’s looking around.”

Coleman spent over an hour watching the birds fly in and out, and sketched a drawing of the chick in a small field journal.

“I’ve never seen it do that,” said Sam, as the chick peered outward. “I think right now it wants to look around. Imagine, the only life it’s ever seen is from that nest.”

Maddie West, 28, biked up a little while later in the searing afternoon heat.

The field engineer at an insurance company had already come to the neighborhood eight times in the last month to catch a view of the chick, but failed every time.

Sam and his dad gave her the binoculars.

One of the birds was soaring upward on a current of hot air.

“It’s amazing,” she exclaimed, sweat beading on her face.

“We see crows and robins,” she said. This was new. “It just feels like an extra slice of nature in the city.”