You're a big chick now!

Now, doubtful you remember but back in the early days of my internship, I saw this little chick, 560, at a feeding site. Being a young'un, and therefore far down on the pecking order, she couldn't or wouldn't get close to the bear carcass to feed. I saw her wing beg to her mom, 111, leaning down close to the ground in supplication and beating her wings forcefully. Mom apparently said no. After a few more tries, 560 humbly scooted over to Dad. After some wing begging, Dad was helpless to resist her big eyes, the hungry flapping of her wings.

Daddy's girl

Needless to say, after this display of paternal devotion and adorable babyness, I had a soft spot for this little girl. I like keeping tabs on her, seeing how she's doing as she figures her way out in the world. As far as I knew, she hadn't made the trip out to Bitter Creek yet, and her parents had jumped the gun a bit and laid another egg just a year after 560 (condors usually lay one egg every two years, giving parents ample time to train their chick in the ways of the condor). So unless one of them showed 560 the way up north, it wasn't terribly likely she'd figure it out on her own. So, you can imagine my surprise when, going to check on the flight pen birds, I spotted a little black-headed juvenile with cookies-and-cream  feathers under her wings (adult condors have pure white triangles on the undersides of their wings; juveniles' triangles are more mottled with black, reminiscent of the aforementioned ice cream), and a black wing tag.  

"Oh, well hi there 560!"

And what's more, neither of her parents were to be found. Or her wacky aunt. Which means that she joined a random group of condors flying up, and made the big trip solo. I was so proud.