An account of The Peregrine Fund's 20th Annual Condor Release

As we drove into Southern Utah the hills took on their characteristic reddish tinge. The iconic landscape served as a fitting backdrop as my wife and I began scanning the skies for one of North America’s most endangered birds. As we passed through Kanab, Utah and Fredonia, Arizona our spirits were high. We were headed to the Peregrine Fund’s 20th annual condor release at the Vermilion Cliffs! I had been working at the Peregrine Fund’s World Center for Birds of Prey for almost 2 years, teaching countless people about the importance of condor recovery, but I had never seen one in the wild. Our hope was that we would see one driving in, but these hopes were dwarfed by the enormity of the landscape.

The two-lane highway took us over the Kaibab Plateau in Northern Arizona, one of the premier forests in the American Southwest. The road then dropped in elevation from the pines, through the junipers, and opened to the Arizona high desert. Our first glimpse of the Vermilion Cliffs was during the golden hour just before sunset. Highway 89a straightens and runs along the base of the Vermilion Cliffs National Monument and as the sun set we felt hopeful and inspired, though we did not see any condors.

We rolled past the Cliff Dweller’s community and past the small village of Vermilion Cliffs. We passed our destination and would have kept driving but a Ford pickup pulled up fast on our tail. That would be Chris Parish! Apparently we were staring at the cliffs when we roared by Chris, who was waving at us from the side of the highway. We back tracked to the small community of Vermilion Cliffs and the Lee’s Ferry Lodge.

Chris has headed up Peregrine Fund’s Condor Recovery Project in Arizona since 2000. Full of condor knowledge, he effortlessly bridges the gap between stuffy scientists and skeptical sportsmen. Chris is an optimist, a pragmatist, and one of the most inspiring conservationists I’ve ever met. Chris welcomed us to Arizona and led us to our housing for the week.

The next morning, over an impeccable breakfast at Lee’s Ferry Lodge, we had a front row seat to observe Chris in his element. He has built the trust and support of the local community and it showed. He explained to us that it is ineffective for outsiders to waltz in and dictate a conservation agenda; this breeds mistrust. The history of conservation is rife with examples, such as the recovery of the Northern Spotted Owl. That species was intentionally put at odds with the livelihoods of countless families. Although the owl gained official protection its decline has continued to accelerate to this day. To be successful in conservation local support must be built. If the condor helps to define the majestic wildness of northern Arizona and southern Utah, it may garner more support than if it is simply an endangered species. The locals in the town of Vermilion Cliffs seemed to genuinely care about the condor’s recovery. I’m sure it helped that the hotel and restaurant were full of condor enthusiasts (aka Condorks).

After breakfast Chris gave a tour of the field housing and the condor treatment barn. The Peregrine Fund’s condor recovery team lives in sparse housing at the base of the Vermilion Cliffs; just a short walk from the housing is the condor recovery barn. There were no condors in the barn at the time, as its use is seasonal. With the onset of hunting season, the recovery barn will become a last hope for lead-poisoned condors. The structure is a metal horse barn, but inside modifications have transformed it into a treatment/recovery facility. There is the triage room where the crew can assess incoming birds, a makeshift laboratory to run blood analyses, and individual chambers for sick condors. Between rooms there is a white board on the door. Originally the idea was that notes would be exchanged between rotating crews and all would recognize the relatively few birds listed to be remembered to “keep the fire burning” as Chris stated. At some point people started adding condor studbook numbers on the board, a process that consumed the entirety of the board. Each condor in existence has a studbook number, which in essence becomes their name. The numbers on the board were from condors that had died. Chris recounted a few of their stories. Condor recovery is defined by hope, but tempered in the grim reality that we currently cannot control the leading cause of mortality. Lead poisoning is preventable, yet it remains unavoidable. Still, every condor that has lived and died has taught us something, and if we keep learning, and do not give up, we will eventually achieve the goal of self-sustaining populations, free of the necessary management that keeps them going today.

On release day we drove to a remote section of the western edge of the Vermilion Cliffs. We were amazed to see a line of cars parked on the side of the road extending for a half a mile on either side of the gathering area below the release site. The bustling excitement reminded me of a state fair. There were almost 300 people standing in the desert sun, literally in the middle of nowhere, there to witness and more importantly, to be part of the recovery of a species. This was a hopeful sight! Chris took to the microphone just before 11am and welcomed everyone. He introduced the field crew and gave a brief history of the project.

Soon we were glued to binoculars and scopes, focused on the release pen atop the cliffs. Condor 618 was the first to leave the pen and take to the sky. Condors 731 and 735 took their first flights soon after. As these birds flew I got to thinking about the previous day, when Chris and I had been standing at the edge of the cliffs near the release site. “Can you imagine launching yourself off that cliff for the first time?” said Chris, the wind whistling through his yellow button down shirt. “The lives of these birds are about to change”. About this time my ‘lifer’ condor glided overhead, a wild adult bird released in a prior year. Amazing.

As of September 26, 2015 three more condors are flying free in the Arizona skies. Survival will largely depend on the condors’ behavior, the skill of the field crew, and unfortunately, luck. With all of these in place, their studbook number might just stay off the white-board.