Every spring, Macomb County Executive Mark Hackel starts a list of nouns. A lake he grew up near. A police partner he loved. They’re for a piece of Macomb County that’s about to take flight.
Since 2005, peregrine falcons — once nearly extinct in Michigan — have nested atop the Old County Building in downtown Mount Clemens. Each spring, when the chicks are banded, Hackel gets to name them.
"An endangered species? My gosh, what an honor," Hackel remembers thinking when he was first asked. “I didn't take it lightly.”
The birds aren't endangered anymore. Three years ago, thanks in part to efforts like Mount Clemens', peregrine falcons were downgraded from endangered to threatened.
It's a unique kind of civic pride: wild birds with carefully chosen names hatching on a downtown roof, then disappearing into the sky over the Clinton River. This year's baby falcons, Donahue and Ruthie, are named for two Mount Clemens legends: Cindy Donahue, the county's longtime historian, and Ruthie Stevenson, a familiar presence at city meetings for decades.
Cindy says about the honor:. "You share your name with a lot of things throughout your life, but sharing it with a bird of prey is a whole different level of cool."
Ruthie was watching the ten o'clock news when she found out a falcon had been named after her. "Birds look after other birds,” she says. “And that's what God expects of us: to look over others and get involved."
Mount Clemens has named over thirty falcon chicks since 2005. Thousands thrill yearly to a live webcam’s broadcast of the chicks — Hackel’s idea. “I said, ‘Let’s get people to view this,’” Mark recalls. The webcam lets people watch the chicks develop, until they fly away forever.
Somewhere out there, this year's falcons are already riding thermals over the Clinton River, headed wherever peregrines go. And somewhere in Mount Clemens, without knowing it yet, someone or something is already becoming next spring's falcon name.
"Birds look after other birds…that's what God expects of us: to look over others and get involved." —Ruthie Stevenson