Vermillion Cliffs National Monument, Ariz. • However biologists refer to Milagra, there is one thing that they all agree on — she’s a good egg, and a miraculous one at that.
Milagra, which is Spanish for “miracle,” was still in the egg when her mother, sick from lead poisoning and highly pathogenic avian influenza, succumbed to the illness. Biologists were searching for a nest when they stumbled on the egg — one of the first retrieved in the wild — and rushed it to a wildlife rehabilitation center in Phoenix.
It was there at Liberty Wildlife that the California condor, officially known as 1221, was hatched and subsequently flown by private plane to the Peregrine Fund’s propagation center in Boise, Idaho, to be raised by foster condor parents.
On Saturday, in conjunction with National Public Lands Day, 600-plus condor lovers joined representatives of federal and state agencies at Vermillion Cliffs National Monument in northern Arizona to watch Milagra, two other females and a male, spring from their release pen high atop a red cliff a mile away and take to the skies.
Adding to the celebratory air of the annual release — the 28th since it began on Dec. 12, 1996 — was its reemergence after the event was scrapped in 2023 due to the deadly avian flu that killed 21 condors in Utah and Arizona. In addition, Zion National Park’s first-ever wild condor died recently from lead poisoning caused by ingesting an animal felled by lead ammunition.
“We really missed you guys,” Tim Hauck, director of the Peregrine Fund’s condor program, told the crowd toting high-powered spotting scopes and cameras with oversized telephoto lenses. “This is an opportunity to get back out here with you all and the public who make all this possible and … add four more birds to the population.
Comeback condors
(Mark Eddington | The Salt Lake Tribune) Visitors don cameras and binoculars at a gathering to observe the release of condors at Vermillion Cliffs National Monument, Saturday, Sept. 28, 2024.
Despite the brutal year condors endured last year due to deaths from avian flu and lead poisoning, Hauck and others reminded the crowd there were plenty of reasons to celebrate. After all, condors — the largest bird in North America — had declined to 22 individuals by the time the California Condor Recovery Program was launched in the 1980s.
Since then, California condor numbers have rebounded to more than 560 birds, more than half of them roaming the skies of the southwestern United States and Mexico. As of June, Utah-Arizona condors’ numbers stood at 85, and everyone was enthused at the prospect of adding Milagra and three more to the flock.
Still, everyone realized, condors — not even a “miracle bird” like Milagra — don’t miraculously appear or soar on cue.
“I hope they fly today,” said Arizona wildlife watcher Miquel Sanchez. “If they don’t get the job done, I’ll have to return home to Tucson without photos, memories or anything to show for it.”
Entertaining and educating
(Mark Eddington | The Salt Lake Tribune) Katie Wallace of Kanab wears condor wings at a gathering to observe the release of condors at Vermillion Cliffs National Monument, Saturday, Sept. 28, 2024.
To keep onlookers entertained and educated, officials with the Peregrine Fund, Zion and Grand Canyon national parks, the federal Bureau of Land Management and other agencies had booths and experts on hand to dispense condor lore to anyone eager to learn more about the scavengers.
For example, Carmen Kraus, visual information specialist at Grand Canyon National Park, let people try on imitation 9 ½-foot condor wings to gain a greater appreciation for the size of the birds.
“OK, this is kind of awkward,” Kanab resident Katie Wallace admitted while trying on the wings. “It would probably be less awkward in the air.”
A short distance away, Peregrine Fund wildlife biologist CJ Woodward was dishing out tantalizing tidbits about condors, which have been declared an endangered species and protected under federal law since 1967.
For example, he noted, condors are highly social and curious animals who love to hang together — in the air, atop cliffs and feeding on animal carcasses.
“A lot of the conversations they have are all body language — fighting, biting and hissing at each other,” Woodward said. “But at the same time, they all love it.”
More food for thought, Woodward continued, except possibly at dinnertime: The birds like to urinate on their legs to stay cool. The urine is so acidic that it can cause metal to rust away over time, he explained, which is why biologists affix number tags to condors’ wings instead of attach bands around their legs.
Moreover, when condors feel threatened, Woodward added, they often regurgitate and leave some food behind so they can get away faster from predators or a perceived threat, like a jet fighter ejecting chaff to detract or confuse a missile.
A ‘sweet bird’
(Mark Eddington | The Salt Lake Tribune) Visitors don cameras and binoculars at a gathering to observe the release of condors at Vermillion Cliffs National Monument, Saturday, Sept. 28, 2024.
Peregrine Fund biologist Heather Morris talked about the temperaments of the four condors making their maiden flights, saying 1213, the male in the foursome, is especially rambunctious, and 1209, one of the females, is relatively calm and sweet.
“She is a sweet bird, which means she is not trying to rip your face off when you hold her,” Morris explained. “Condors like to fight, which is an indication they are a strong and healthy bird.”
Meanwhile Erin Brown, Condor Program coordinator with the Arizona Fish and Game Department, talked up the virtues of lead-free ammunition that do not pose a risk to condors. Lead poisoning, wildlife officials attest, is the leading killer of condors.
Like Utah’s Hunters Helping Condors program, Arizona has a program that offers hunters a free box of copper bullets they can switch out for lead ammunition. Still, neither Utah nor Arizona outlaws the use of lead bullets.
“We would rather educate than regulate,” Brown said. “We don’t want to interfere with how [hunters] choose to do their hunt, but we do want to provide them with the right information. That way, they can choose lead-free ammunition.”
At noon, wildlife officials opened the pen doors atop the cliff, which were not visible to the naked eye. To lure the condors out of the cage, they placed the carcass of a stillborn calf. Still, there was no sign of the condors.
“It’s a scary thing,” Peregrine Fund field biologist Tom Hudson told the crowd. “Could you imagine leaping off of a 50- or 100-foot cliff face for the first time? … They haven’t done any real soaring or been out in the wild.”
Hudson compared the condors’ first solo flight to going bowling for the first time. “We’re trying to avoid any gutter balls today,” he added.
Flight of the condors
He need not have worried. About 20 minutes after the pen was opened, the male made his aerial debut, launching himself off the cliff, soaring overhead and drawing “oohs” and “aahs” from the onlookers. Shortly thereafter, two females joined the aerial dance. Milagra, perhaps a bit pensive, stuck closer to the pen.
Charlie Begay, a Navajo, or Diné, from Big Water, Utah, said it was an emotional experience.
“The condors are part of the circle of life and help make the world go ‘round,” he said. “They help take care of dead animals and keep the area clean. It’s good to see them come back.”
Despite their release, the condors will not be entirely on their own. For the next few weeks, wildlife officials will leave carcasses out for food, track their movements, and try to steer them clear of predators and out of harm’s way.
“Watching Milagra fly reminds me of watching my baby daughter take her first steps years ago,” said New Mexico condor enthusiast Alicia Trujillo, who drove up from Albuquerque for the release. “I’m so unbelievably proud of her, but I can’t help being a little nervous because I worry it might take a miracle for her to survive all the world can throw at her.”
