The goshawk’s name was bestowed by medieval falconers and honours the birds’ formidable predatory powers (Mark Cocker, 6/05/25, Country Life)
What really makes a goshawk hard to see is its blend of sheer speed and inherent caution. They are widespread in Britain, particularly north and west of a line from the River Severn to the Tweed, where there are an estimated 1,200 breeding pairs. In all places, they are lovers of deep woods and spend most of their time within the canopy, dashing along rides or weaving through the trees, using shock tactics to flush and catch prey. In Europe, goshawks can sometimes occupy heavily urbanised places, but remain invisible to the public. There is a celebrated colony in downtown Berlin, Germany, and, although it might be the scourge of the city’s pigeon flocks, its human neighbours remain blithely unaware. The species is particularly partial to pigeon flesh, with some studies putting it as high as 60% of the entire diet. Yet goshawks have the power to overwhelm larger birds. Part-ridges, coots, mallards and even capercaillie — the latter three times the weight of its assailant — have all been recorded.
I once saw a female retrieving an egret from a dyke, where the prey had fallen after the raptor had struck. They will also adjust to more modest fare: squirrels, starlings, sparrows and beetles are fair game for males, which have only two-thirds the bulk of their mates. For all their fondness for deep cover, goshawks will forgo their ghost status during the pre-breeding period. For a few spring weeks, especially on sunlit March mornings, they sail high over their territories, circling and swooping. The climax of these nuptial displays is when a male and female fly together, bonding in a deep-winged, slow-motion butterfly action that they alternate with passages of effortless soaring. A mystery attaching to Britain’s population centres on the precise nature of its origins.
As Helen MacDonald relates in H is for Hawk, T. H. White’s the Goshawk is kind of insane.