A thorough search of downtown Utica this morning yielded no sign of Astrid. No evidence has surfaced to shed light on what happened to her. She has now been absent since Monday evening (February 24th) and is presumed lost, likely deceased. In her absence, a new, unbanded female has arrived and appears to be pairing with Ares. This morning, the two were observed performing flight displays for one another, a strong sign of pair bonding. They were also seen perching together on the hotel. Ares may have offered her a food tribute, bringing prey to the nest box before possibly delivering it to her afterward.
I first encountered Astrid and Ares in the spring of 2012, when they took over the downtown Utica territory previously held by the original resident peregrine pair, Maya and Tor. Tor’s tenure ended abruptly in 2010 when he died in an impact accident, leaving Maya to hold the territory alone for two years. It remains unknown whether she abandoned the site voluntarily or was displaced by the incoming pair. Astrid and Ares arrived as fully mature adults, likely at least two years old, but their origins remain a mystery—they bore no leg bands, and nothing is known of their history before they claimed Downtown Utica as their home. In the spring of 2013, a nest box was installed for them on the Adirondack Bank building, and they made use of it for the first time the following year. Over the next 11 seasons, Astrid laid a total of 44 eggs, four per year. Of these, 32 hatched, and 30 young Peregrines successfully fledged under her watchful care. She was an extraordinary mother, adapting and refining her parenting strategies over the years. As time went on, her relationship with Ares evolved as well—where she was once more possessive of her role, she gradually granted him greater privileges, allowing him to incubate eggs at night, feed the chicks more frequently, and even share her favorite food with him.
Notably, Astrid demonstrated a remarkable ability to learn and improve upon her parenting techniques. She discovered that leading her fledglings to land on wider, safer ledges reduced accidents. In later years, she became more engaged in sparring with her young, actively helping them strengthen their flight skills. Her precision in executing midair food transfers with fledglings also became a defining skill, ensuring her young gained the coordination and confidence needed for independent hunting.
One of Astrid’s most fascinating qualities was her uncanny intuition. She always seemed to know when we were about to release one of her fledglings after a rescue. Before we had even opened the vehicle door and took out the carrier containing her offspring, she would already be perched on the steeple or the State Building, staring at the nest box, anticipating the release. Over the years, her tolerance for our interventions grew. Early on, she greeted us with relentless hazing and sharp vocal protests whenever we returned a wayward fledgling. By last year—her ninth time witnessing such a release—her reaction had softened considerably. She barely hazed us at all and did a minimal amount of cackle calling.
Astrid’s coordinated hunting forays with Ares were amazing to behold. Astrid was intense, formidable, and fiercely devoted. She was a steadfast mate, a tireless protector, a highly skilled predator, and provider, and an outstanding mother. She commanded respect, not just from her own family but from all who had the privilege of observing her. The void she leaves behind is immense. Whether she met her end through illness, injury, secondary poisoning, natural causes, or conflict with another falcon, we may never know. But what is certain is that her legacy will endure—etched into our memories, carried on through the generations she raised, and remembered by those who were fortunate enough to witness her in action.
She will be deeply missed.