Great Profiles

            “I’ll be right there!” yelled a strong voice from the doorway of a beautiful log home in the snow-covered Bitterroot Valley.  With her snow boots on, Kate Davis leapt outside to examine who had just pulled up her long driveway.   She ducked back inside and reappeared shortly with two large buckets in hand. A pair of playful Irish setters, Zoey and Peanut, followed closely at her heels.  “Don’t worry, they’re friendly,” she said good-naturedly as they galloped toward me, barking wildly, wagging their tails.  “Let’s go feed the birds.”

            Several bird calls wove their way through the crisp morning air as Davis tromped through the snow toward nearly a dozen enclosures.  All of these bird habitats varied in size, and housed a variety of predatory birds.  “We care for eighteen birds here, fifteen are injured raptors, and three are falconry birds,” she explained. As we neared the largest enclosure, three gigantic eagles shifted menacingly on their perches.

            Kate Davis started Raptors of the Rockies, a non-profit educational program, nearly twenty years ago in 1988 on her ranch in Clinton. “That was six Subaru’s ago!” chuckled Davis.  In 2001 she and her husband moved to Florence and constructed all the highly specialized bird homes in seven days.  Next door neighbors Geoff Schroeder and Georgia Milan thought she was running a puppy mill.   Davis said that when she introduced herself and told them what all the little buildings were for, they were relieved.  “She is a wonderful woman and a great neighbor,” said Milan.

            Having graduated with a degree in zoology from the University of Montana six years earlier in 1982, Davis combined her passion for wildlife with a drive to increase awareness and respect for the outdoors and all its creatures.  Davis related how she was deeply influenced by her now close friends and supporters, the Craighead family.  In elementary school Davis read My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George, and was entranced by the idea of flying her own falcon.  Less than ten years later, Davis attended a lecture by John Craighead, a Missoula resident and grizzly bear expert.  Davis fell in love with a place called Montana that Craighead described. “I said to my parents, I’m going to Montana!” And so she did, in 1978, nearly thirty years ago.       

             Davis beckoned me inside the eagles’ chain-link home.  A covered shelter occupied one corner, accompanied by various perches, a watering bowl, and a couple of branches.  Two of the intimidating birds were on an elevated branch in the corner, ruffling their deep brown plumage and staring at me suspiciously with dark golden eyes.  Nigel and Max are both permanently injured golden eagles.  Max was found in 1989 along a trail in the Bob Marshall Wilderness, unable to fly.  Davis suspects that he ate from a poisoned carcass.  His balance has been permanently affected, she said, as he swayed slightly, his attention now turned toward the buckets.  Nigel, whom Davis acquired in 1999, was found in a field near Ronan, shot in the right wing.  “I like to think the people who did this are in jail,” said Davis in a hard tone, “But I don’t think they were ever caught.” 

             We heard a rustling noise from the shelter in the corner, and turned to see McCoy, the bald eagle, hopping awkwardly on the ground and quivering.  Davis explained that he did not successfully fledge from his nest in 2004, and was found emaciated by the banks of the Clark Fork River by Rick Branzell, a Federal Fish and Wildlife service agent.  McCoy suffered nerve damage due to intense starvation, and will never quite function properly.  “I stopped taking him to programs,” said Davis, as she watched him sadly.  “He starts shaking and loses his balance; it scares the kids.”  McCoy looks up at us with eyes partly glassed over with confusion, and Davis gently placed a piece of liver beside him.  “He’s the real McCoy,” she said adding that she named him after one of her favorite pianists, McCoy Tyner.  The passion that Kate Davis has for these birds, battered by humans and nature, she wears proudly on her sleeve. 

            “You know what I’m going to do for you,” Davis says, talking in turn to me, and to Nigel.  “I’m going to trim his beak…be right back!” she said gleefully, running back to the house to retrieve her tools, leaving me all alone, mere feet away from talons as large as human hands.  She returned shortly with a pair of heavy gloves, a pouch filled with files and an oversized pair of fingernail clippers.  “Okay, stand back a little,” she cautioned as she donned the thick gloves. 

She approached their perch slowly, speaking in low, soothing tones.  The pair wasted no time attempting to evade her grasp.  Davis skillfully seized Nigel around the ankles, careful not to get in the way of his frantic flapping as he hung upside down.  She carefully righted him, gently folded in his massive wings, and wrapped him up like an infant with a towel.  “There we go,” she cooed, as she carried him to a large stump in the enclosure, where she sat with him on her lap.  She explained that captive raptors’ beaks often over grow, because they have fewer opportunities to wear them down than in the wild.  “Trimming and filing the ends of their beaks doesn’t hurt them, it’s like cutting your fingernails,” she pointed out while working on Nigel’s hard beak, her shoulder length dark blonde hair falling around her weathered face and clear blue eyes, outlined with wrinkles. Nigel opened his beak and issued a few squawks, as Davis smiled affectionately down at him and began her work.        

              With the two white buckets swinging by her sides, containing dead animal parts for the birds; we left the eagle enclosure and continued on.  The contents of those buckets on any given day range from mice to quail, pieces of chicken and deer, ground squirrels and regular squirrels, in addition to liver and heart meat.  Davis procures the food from different, often very generous sources.  Between 10,000 and 12,000 lab mice each year are consumed by the birds. The 1,200 quail eaten each year by the falcons and the Sharp Shinned hawk are purchased annually from Olson Game Birds in Ronan, and half of those profits go to the Montana Peregrine Institute.  The eagles and hawks have a certain fondness for squirrels, and Davis purchases 300-400 yearly from a local trapper in the Bitterroot valley.  “Mmmm, yummy,” Davis laughed as she pulled a frozen squirrel out by its stiff tail.

            Davis was born in California in 1959. “You can’t help where you’re from,” she joked.  Her family moved approximately every two years, all over the country.  Cincinnati, Ohio, was where Davis spent most of junior high and high school, and coincidently it was there that she would become involved in an organization that would foreshadow her current life.   

            “I got into the Cincinnati Zoo when I was thirteen years old, and I joined a club called the Junior Zoologists Club,” she said.  The club included about forty kids from the surrounding area, and taught them all about animal care.  Club members participated in animal rehab, education, falconry, taxidermy, and art related projects through the zoo. “They encouraged us to be good community members, and spokespeople for the zoo, and also wildlife in general,” she remembered.  The club wasn’t the catalyst for Davis’s love for animals, though.  Rather, it only further instilled, and refined her passion for the animal kingdom.  “The love of animals has always been there,” she said.  But birds of prey sunk their talons into her soul.  “It’s exhilarating. It can be the most exciting thing in the world or it can be the biggest disappointment and the most incredible heartbreak of your life,” she said, reminiscing on beloved birds that have been lost to predators, old age and accidents.   

             We stopped briefly by Otto, the Rough-legged hawk, and Nels, the Swainson’s hawk.  Both birds suffered injuries that make flying well very difficult.  Davis explained, from inside their enclosures, that these two species would probably never encounter each other in the wild because of their migratory patterns, yet they get along wonderfully.  Walking on Davis distributed food to Alice, the Cooper’s Hawk, whose long tail feathers and sharp orange eyes made up for her smaller size.  “I named her after the rock star, get it?  Alice Cooper!” she said laughing, as she laid a few mice down for the bird.

            “I’m the sole employee, I’m the only one,” she said as she hauled the buckets onward.  “I do all the work. I do the paperwork, I’m the permit holder, I do the maintenance, the feeding, and all the driving.  I do all the procurement of food, butchering, and food disposal.  I write the newsletters, the books, and the brochures.  I do all of the publicity, you know, to keep this on the top of peoples’ minds.  I write all the pleas for money, and grant requests.  I do it all.” 

            But her hard work doesn’t come without a few cherished rewards.  Over 100,000 children and adults have seen her programs, and the responses are almost always enthusiastic.  “I have young people come up to me and say ‘I’m now a veterinarian because I saw your program,’ or ‘I’m studying to be a zoologist.’ It’s very rewarding to me,” she said.  “At every program I ask the kids, ‘Who likes animals, who like art, who likes reading, who likes film’ then I tell them to stick with it, because you can do it for the rest of your life.  All of this started when I was 13. I knew that I loved animals.”    

Next we stopped by Ansel, the Peregrine/Gyrfalcon hybrid that came to Davis with a vision problem in his right eye from Sheridan, Wyo.  Davis recounted how her mom had named him after the famous black and white photographer, Ansel Adams.  With his beautiful marbled light and dark grey plumage, it was easy to see the connection.  She said that he is very playful, and often hops around with a tennis ball in one talon.  “Come here Ansel,” said Davis, and the bird obediently hopped onto her hand.  Davis has been working with birds of prey for over 30 years, and the intimate connection with them she possesses is quite obvious.

            We paused outside of the large owl enclosure that houses Jillian and Miles Davis, both Great Horned owls, and Davis briefly fingered a padlock.  Davis explained that she keeps the bird homes locked most of the time, just in case, because people from organizations like PETA might take it upon them to “free” all the birds.  That would be disastrous, for most of the birds wouldn’t be able to survive without Davis’s extensive bird knowledge and daily care.

            “I name most of the birds after musicians, race car drivers and friends,” Davis said as she examined Jillian’s chest feathers. The bird hissed lowly and peered at us with striking yellow eyes.  Davis, a long time skier, named this owl after Jillian Vogtli of the U.S. Ski Team, whom she met and befriended at a SnowBowl competition.  Davis is a woman of many passions; animals, Montana, jazz, art, skiing, falconry, and photography…the list continued to stretch as she periodically elaborated on her rich, eventful, and certainly never boring life. 

            Chesty and Déjà vu, both Harris’s hawks, were next to receive their food.  Deja, as Davis likes to call her, is a gorgeous young bird. Stunning with her dark brown and auburn plumage with white tipped tail feathers, Deja is one of Davis’s prized falconry partners.  She recently graced the cover of the Independent, a weekly publication that did a story on Davis last March.  Chesty, older male, was given to Davis by Ric Jinotti, a friend and Vietnam veteran, who found he couldn’t take care of his bird properly in his failing health.  As my morning with Kate Davis progressed, she revealed parts of the vast web of friends and associations that support Raptors of the Rockies, and all of her numerous other endeavors. 

A bright jingling of bells erupts as we pass by Sibley, the Peregrine falcon that Davis purchased as an infant, and raised in her living room.  “Don’t worry Sib,” Davis calls out, “I’ll come back for you.”  Davis has three falconry birds; Sibley, Déjà vu, and Chesty. She also has her master falconer’s license which takes nearly seven years to obtain, and allows her to have three falconry birds of any species.  The sport is approximately 4,000 years old and started in eastern Asia, near China.  There are currently 93 falconers in Montana, including Davis.

            We stopped briefly for Graham, the Barred owl, whom Davis describes as a real “charmer.”  With her dark eyes and calm demeanor it’s simple to see why.  She is also Franklin Elementary school’s mascot.  Graham’s first event was appearing with Davis on the Pea Green Boat, a children’s radio show formerly hosted by Marcia Dunn.  Davis frequents Montana Public Radio with her birds.  “I bring live birds on the air, and nobody believes me!” she laughed, as Graham hooted from within her enclosure. 

            As we approached JayDub, the American kestrel, and Margo, the Sharp Shinned hawk, it seemed to me that we had worked our way from largest to smallest, but in no way were the smaller birds less fierce.  JayDub, named for Davis’s high school art teacher, was a blur of cream, grey, and bronze as he flitted energetically around his home.  Like many of the birds in Davis’s care, he was the victim of a car collision.  Davis beckoned me into Margo’s spacious enclosure which included a large pine branch with many perches.   Margo hopped excitedly around the branches before pausing two feet from us and displaying for me her piercing red and orange eyes.  Davis is conducting a study addressing the color changes that Sharp Shinned Hawks’ eyes go through. 

            Lastly we come to Buster, the Saw-whet owl and his neighbor Dotcom, the irresistible Pygmy owl.  Davis pointed out how Buster “decorated” his perches by draping uneaten pieces of mice all over them.  He too possesses shockingly yellow eyes, indicating that he is a nocturnal hunter.  Next door, not more than six inches tall is Dotcom.  I couldn’t help the “Oooh,” that slipped from my mouth, he is just so tiny. Davis says that these two little raptors always garner collective “awww’s” from school children.  She reminds them that if they were mice, these guys wouldn’t seem so cute.

            In the twenty years that Davis has been running Raptors of the Rockies, she and the birds have participated in over 1,098 educational programs and presentations.  She has been to numerous schools, clubs, banquets, fundraisers, radio and television shows, and conferences.  “Going to the fair on a weekend is not educational,” she pointed out, “but doing presentations at assemblies for forth and fifth graders are worthwhile.”  She also added that the age group just before junior high is among her favorite to talk to.  “I can be totally weird, and they get it,” she smiles.

            At a Lion’s Club presentation later that week, all the members sat, almost entranced, as Davis moved animatedly about the front of the room.  With Sibley jingling on her arm, Davis described stories of hunts with her, while supplementing the tales with surprising information about raptors.  “I’ve seen her knock a duck’s head clean off in the air!” she said breathlessly.  At the end of her presentation she smiled humbly as the club members engulfed her with applause and inquiries about the program.  “My wife and I saw Kate give a presentation about 10 years ago,” said club member David Tyrell “We were very impressed by her professionalism, humor, and most of all her enthusiasm.  She does noble work, and we don’t hesitate in supporting her.”

            Indeed it’s no surprise that half of the funds that keep Raptors of the Rockies afloat come from donations.  It costs $56,000 to keep the program running for one year.  Approximately 46 percent come from generous donations, 9 percent from program fees, 37 percent from grants, 6 percent from “Adopt a Raptor,” and 2 percent from merchandise and book proceeds.  “Money is absolutely the bane of my existence,” said Davis, addressing the challenges she faces.  “I think that’s probably true for all non-profits, but god, it’s driving me nuts.”

            A vacation is a foreign concept to Davis.  “Sometimes I ask the kids, ‘When does Kate Davis get to take a vacation?’ and they say, ‘Kate Davis is always on vacation!’”  But it must take extreme purpose and passion to continue on, “I’ve been doing this every single day for 20 years,” she said.  “I don’t have any kids, so these birds are like my children.”    

            With the feeding completed, Davis retrieved Sibley from her enclosure. She contentedly jingled on Davis’s gloved arm as we headed inside.  Kate and her husband live in a cozy remodeled one story log home.  The walls are covered with everything animal-related, including pen and ink drawings Davis has made herself, numerous prize winning photographs of her birds, and various taxidermy beasts, many of which she made.  There are also several elegant metal sculptures standing or mounted in various corners as well as outside that Davis had made, during a feverish two year welding kick, in her large garage.  Jazz music filtered softly throughout her house, “You have to have jazz,” she said, and began humming along with the music.  After placing Sibley on a perch near the cluttered office, referred to as “Command Central,” Davis showed me around and delved into stories.    

            Kate Davis is truly a jack-of-all-trades.  Before starting Raptor of the Rockies, she was a bit of a traveling bohemian.  “I did everything,” she recalled as she washed quail blood from her hands in the spacious kitchen.  She skipped all over the map taking different jobs: a stint in the Peace Corps, working on Russian fishing boats, taxidermy and even racing cars.  She proudly gestured towards half a dozen trophies and plaques on a shelf in her office next to a gigantic stuffed peacock.  “I always wanted one of those,” she laughed to herself, admiring the huge stuffed bird.  Davis also presented several photos of her light yellow Porsche bending around orange cones, tacked to a bulletin board next to drawings, cards and pictures of her with friends and birds.  Not only is she a master falconer, founder and director of a non-profit organization, but she is also an artist, and published author.

            “I wrote “Raptors of the Rockies” during the fires of 2000,” she said, holding up a copy.  She describes it as a sort of beginners guide to birds of prey in the northwest.  Printed by Mountain Press in 2002, it is 98 pages long, with 115 photographs and 32 maps.  A portion of each sale goes to benefit the program.  Davis is now working on a massive falconry book called “Falcons of North America.”  “They wanted me to do a children’s book, but I really pushed for an adult book about falcons, because they are my favorite things in the world” she said, rifling through rough copies and notes that are strewn around her computers.  “I’m getting lots of help and suggestions,” she added, “Sometimes it hurts your feelings a bit when they correct your work, but I want it to be correct.”  She proudly produced several gorgeous photographs of falcons that will be included in the publication.  They are just a few of nearly 200 images that two bird photographers, Nick Dunlop and Rob Palmer, are donating to her; further demonstrating the depth and breadth of her connections with people.    

            After more than 30 years of ceaseless educational wildlife work, Kate Davis shows no signs of stopping.  Standing near a large sun-lit window, arms folded, and gazing intently at Sibley on her perch, Davis murmured, “If this doesn’t get your blood pumping…” she paused and seemed to fall into memory, “then you shouldn’t been doing it.”