The piping plovers received much attention in Chicago again, and it’s well deserved. The return of mating plovers is a continuing avian success story in an era in which shrinking habitats and environmental degradation have not produced a lot of success. And there isn’t anything cuter than a baby piping plover. Except, perhaps, a baby kestrel.

The American kestrel is the smallest member of the falcon family, about the size of a robin, and brightly colored. As with most raptors, the male is slightly smaller than the female, but unlike most raptors, kestrels are characterized by different colors. Males have rufous backs and blue wings; females have rufous backs and rufous wings.

Their scientific name, Falco sparverius, derives from the early belief that they primarily hunted sparrows, but their diet is very diverse. Kestrels prefer field mice and other small rodents, while also catching snakes, frogs and the occasional songbird. In summer, when heavy vegetation makes it more difficult to find the above prey, they subsist on insects including grasshoppers, crickets and dragonflies. Like all falcons, they are fast, nimble flyers and fierce hunters.

Kestrels are widespread globally but also in a long, serious population decline. The North American Breeding Bird Survey showed a decline in the U.S. of over 50% in the last 50 years. The drop is due to factors such as loss of habitat, especially open grasslands and nesting cavities, as well as disrupted breeding cycles and unreliable food sources because of climate change. Fortunately, the little falcon is adaptable, able to adjust from hunting grasslands to deserts and farm fields, and nesting in boxes and barns as well as tree cavities.

I became enamored with kestrels watching them as a kid in southern Indiana, where they were called sparrow hawks and were frequently seen perched on telephone poles and wires in rural areas and the fences of our Little League fields. Scanning the roads and grass for movement, they made acrobatic runs, rapidly flying in circles and suddenly stopping to hover in midair before dropping down on their prey.

I’m still watching kestrels and recently witnessed a success story to complement the piping plovers of Lake Michigan. During the COVID-19 lockdown in 2020, I hiked in a DuPage County Forest Preserve on a frequent basis and noticed a male kestrel hanging out in the grassy areas and marshes, often perched on the same trees or hover-hunting. Kestrels are territorial, and he appeared to be the local resident, hunting his turf in all seasons. In the spring of 2023, a female arrived, and although I saw them mating, no chicks appeared. Kestrels generally mate for life, like other raptors, and in the spring of 2024, they again mated with no sign of chicks, probably for the reasons above.

That summer, I discussed the situation with several forest preserve staff members and suggested they put out kestrel nesting boxes to assist their chances of raising a successful brood. A staff biologist concurred, and in the fall, a nesting box appeared in a location I had recommended for its proximity to areas where I had seen both kestrels hunting.

Their typical breeding cycle, from mid-March to mid-June, played out in real time this year when I observed the male kestrel perched on the new nesting box in early March, confirming he was aware of its location. The female then returned from winter migration, and on March 17, I noticed her perched on a familiar dead tree with the male. They continued hunting and mating together, and in early April, I saw the female perched on the nesting box for the first time. In mid-April, she disappeared, and I hoped she was in the box sitting on eggs, as the male continued to perch regularly on the box, apparently on guard duty.

In late May the female reappeared, perching on the box and making short hunting runs in the immediate area, suggesting there were growing chicks in the box that now needed both adults to bring them food. If all went well, baby kestrels should start emerging in mid-June.

On June 12, a baby male looked out of the box at me and squawked loudly before dropping back. The next day, a baby female was on the ground, but fluttered her way to the top of the box with the baby male watching and the adult female vocalizing on an adjacent bush.

Two days later, both fledglings were perched in a group of trees near the box, with the adults giving them hunting lessons by flying out over the prairie, snatching dragonflies from the air and returning to feed the young. In a matter of days, the young kestrels were flying out to catch their own dragonflies with acrobatic maneuvers and developing their wing strength. Once the young are able to catch their own prey, they are considered adults and will leave the parents two to four weeks after emerging from the nest.

I haven’t seen the young kestrels since the Fourth of July, so they apparently gained their independence. The adult pair are back on their favorite hunting perches, empty nesters for now. But they often perch together — are they already planning for next spring?

Long live the little falcons, and hopefully these expert mouse catchers will start hunting in my backyard.

Franz Burnier is emeritus professor of English at the College of DuPage. He supports the Friends of the Forest Preserves of Cook County and DuPage County.

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https://www.chicagotribune.com/2025/09/21/opinion-american-kestrel-chicago-area-birds-mating/