Alon, 31, is the Jewish director of the Israel Ornithological Center. Al Khateeb, 39, is a Palestinian engineer who runs the Water and Environment Development Organization in Bethlehem. Despite their very different backgrounds, Alon and al Khateeb share a passion for preserving beleaguered creatures like the kestrel. The bird, a native of the Mediterranean region that feeds on crickets and other insects, builds its nests in the gutters and ventilation ducts beneath the red-tiled roofs of the traditional stone houses that once dominated the Middle East. Over the years, though, many of the old-style homes have been knocked down or modernized, depriving the kestrel of its favorite nesting crannies. In the past four decades, the area's kestrel population has plummeted, from 6,000 to 600. For similar reasons, the bird is also threatened in such countries as Spain, Italy, Greece and Jordan.

Three years ago, Alon set out to reverse the decline by lobbying for the preservation of green spaces as feeding grounds and nailing nesting boxes high on the outside walls of homes. He chose older houses that had been refurbished, so that the birds could return to familiar haunts. The birdhouses are plain pinewood, about the size of a shoebox, with an entry hole in front. So far, Alon and his colleagues in Operation Kestrel have put up 40 boxes in Jerusalem and 50 in Haifa. "The kestrels are dependent on people," says Alon, who started bird watching as a 13-year-old growing up on a kibbutz near Nazareth, and oversees 16 other conservation programs. "We had eight pairs breeding in our boxes last year. We can't say yet that we've saved them from extinction, but we can say the population is increasing rather than decreasing." A tiny camera inside one of the Jerusalem boxes shoots videos of eggs hatching, mothers feeding chicks, fledglings learning to fly--and Alon puts the images live on the Internet (www.birds.org.il).

This year Alon has joined forces with al Khateeb and a Palestinian conservation crew to put up birdhouses in the West Bank. Together they had the wonderful idea of enlisting the help of children--from both sides of the Middle East divide. In February, 50 Arab kids from Jericho and 30 Jewish kids from Jerusalem converged at Jerusalem's Biblical Zoo to learn to make the birdhouses and get to know one another. Coexistence didn't come easily. A Jewish fifth-grader, tears of frustration flowing down her cheeks, rushed to her teacher. An Arab boy wouldn't give her a turn hammering nails into a box they were supposed to be building together. She spoke only Hebrew, he only Arabic. The Israeli teacher explained the problem--in English--to his Palestinian counterpart. The boy relented and let the girl have her chance.

"The lesser kestrel is a nice, noncontroversial subject," says Alon. "It won't solve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but it can create understanding between people who are destined to live together, whether they like it or not." Al Khateeb strongly agrees. "We share a common environment," he says. "We have to work together if we are to achieve results. Our kids grew up thinking all Israelis were soldiers who wanted to shoot them. Their kids thought all Palestinians were terrorists. We want to promote the environment as a tool to build peace."

Sound too idealistic? Not to Ali Erakat, an 11-year-old trooper in Operation Kestrel with a baseball cap turned backward on his head and braces on his teeth. This assertive young man happens to be the son of Sa'eb Erakat, the tough-talking Palestinian peace negotiator. Asked how he felt about meeting and working with Israeli kids, the younger Erakat replied, "I feel happy if they feel happy. None of us want the birds to be in danger. Things like this help us to make peace between kids." Even his cagey old father would have to smile at that.