The official Edmund Fitzgerald puzzle -- a lifer for us both Today we were finally on our way to Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Our stated objective was the Whitefish Point Bird Observatory to try to pick up some late migrants, but the unstated real objective was the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum, which is located at the exact same place.
Continue reading "the legend lives on, from the gift shop on down [258 - 259]" »
Watching for the MacGillivray's maybeBack to the Magic Hedge today to see if we could find the female MacGillivray's Warbler that's been reported there. It's a western bird, a rarity that would be very far from home. As soon as we arrived, we saw a group of about 10 people watching the hole on the north side of the hedge. That's where they'd been seeing the MacGillivray's. A few warblers were darting in and out of the bushes, and the first one we saw was a BLACK-AND-WHITE WARBLER.
Soft focus makes the Kirtland's sexyAfter a long drive north, we made it to Gaylord, Michigan this morning at 1 am. We came to see the endangered Kirtland's Warbler, one of the rarest birds in the States. It only breeds in a small area in northern Michigan, so if you want to see it, this is where you come. You can only view its breeding grounds on official tours run by rangers, and we met ours this morning at 11 am at a hotel in Grayling, a little south of Gaylord. We had two guides, the master (Chris) and the apprentice (Sean). The viewing season started today, so Sean was just learning the ropes. There was just one other birder on the tour, so we made a three-car convoy to the site.
Continue reading "the kirtland's, feathered and plastic [245 - 249]" »
Pole in Pelee, seeing no lifersToday commemorates the First Little Year International Birding Expedition. We went to Point Pelee, Ontario, which is about an hour south of Detroit. We plan on going to northern Michigan tomorrow to see the rare Kirtland's Warbler, so this trip is truly global in scope. We left yesterday and stayed overnight in Motown at my sister's house. Even though we left Chicago kind of late, we couldn't resist stopping at the Indiana Dunes. We drove around for about an hour, and all we got out of it was a CHIPPING SPARROW.
It was raining on and off as we drove to Pelee. It's a spit of land that points south into Lake Erie and is reputed to be one of the best migrant traps on the continent. So we were pretty excited. It was crowded when we got there, and we saw dozens of crazy-looking people with dopey Tilley hats, expensive bins, and repulsive birding vests bulging with God-knows-what useless crap. We, on the other hand, travel pretty light. Or at least Pole does. Because of some vestigial sexism in her chromosomes, I have to carry the scope, the field guide, the notes, and the camera. Not a lot, really, but still more than nothing, which is what she carries. Today, though, I didn't carry the scope because we were looking for warblers.
Another lifer we missedSouth Padre Island isn't just popular with birders and girls gone wild, it's also big with escaped convicts and murderers. The day we got there, some concerned citizen claimed to have seen escaped murderer Richard Lee McNair hanging out among the tourists. He was all over the web a week or two ago in an extraordinary police video. You get to watch McNair convince the hapless cop who pulled him over that he's got the wrong man. Amazing. Anyway, we didn't see nothing and we ain't saying a thing.
In today's birding news, Pole and I headed off to the Sabal Palm Audubon Center and Sanctuary, which is south of Brownsville, near the Mexican border. A very lush place, but -- you guessed it -- hotter than hell. Lots of paths and walkways, and lots of birds, too. It was even more uncomfortable than our trip to High Island, where we burned beyond recognition. Our system today was to go out for short expeditions and then return, panting, to the water fountain at the visitor center.
And don't forget the venomous ivyToday started as another driving day, this time from Rockport to South Padre Island. We paused at a rest stop along the way, and saw the amazing sign on the left. Never mind that they mean "venomous," not "poisonous," but what halfwit is going to walk their pet after reading such a warning? Only in Texas. Lots of boat-tailed grackles here, and this was the first time we heard their outrageous squawking. They can make the most hellish, unbirdlike sounds imaginable. That must be why they're called "niños del diablo." (I just made that up.)
We drove south on Route 77, a raptor hotspot, and sure enough, we spotted a CRESTED CARACARA and HARRIS’S HAWK in short order. Pole got to claim them first because she saw them longer and knew what to look for. But we saw more of both before long, so I got to check them off, too. In fact, the Harris's were all over the place.
Continue reading "like hell, but with sno-cones [179 - 191]" »
Pole on High Island, resplendent in her birder plumageToday we returned to High Island . . . prepared. The day started out well because we got to check out of the odious La Quinta. We skipped their lousy breakfast, and headed straight to Gander Mountain. Pole wanted to get some of that new-fangled clothing that's impregnated with bug repellent. They didn't have it, so instead, we got long-legged, long-sleeved sunblock outfits (UPF 30) that we changed into at the store. Of course, with our sensible pants and shirts, we now looked like the typical dorky birder I ridiculed in yesterday's post. Pole is particular about how she dresses, and she wasn't happy about her outfit. And I was kind of disappointed in her, too. The good thing about birding with Pole is that if there are no birds around, I can at least look at her.
Pole in Anahuac (on a tilt, as poles often are)Last Friday we left for a week-long trip to Texas. We drove Friday night and all of Saturday. Not straight through, mind you. We stopped in Cape Girardeau, Missouri on Friday and made it to Beaumont, Texas last night. So today -- Easter Sunday -- was our first day birding the Texas coast. And though today was our biggest day ever for birds, it may have been the worst day ever, too.
Starting with the worst, the hotel was a dump. It was old and run down and in the middle of an industrial area right next to the highway. I won't tell you its name, but let's just say it was a La Quinta Inn. We knew we were here to bird, so we got over that pretty quick. (Right.) So this morning we headed for the coast down Route 124 toward Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge. It wasn't long before we saw some CATTLE EGRETS in a field along the side of the road. And the a BLACK VULTURE flying above us. Two lifers from the get-go. Then we hit it big.
Continue reading "awful, but it's where the birds are [107 - 142]" »
Today we made our first trip to Northerly Island, which was formerly Miegs Field, Chicago's lakefront airport. I used to like Miegs because is was fun to watch airplanes landing only a few blocks from a skyscrapered downtown. But Mayor Daley loves his parks, so he used 9-11 as an excuse to plow over the runways and plant this greenery. I don't want to sound like a nature hater, but I'm a friend to all birds, including the big silver ones. I'm not losing any sleep over it, mind you. My cube faces west so I can't see the damn lake anyway, and hizzoner has given us another place to bird.
Today we made our first trip this year to the Magic Hedge, the most famous birding spot in all of Chicago. It's a green spit of land at Montrose Harbor that serves as a migrant trap. Birds often migrate by flying south along the lakeshore. It's an exhausting business, and in an urban world of high rises and asphalt, this little tongue of green is the only inviting place they see. So they land here in the thousands. At least they're supposed to.
Today we made the year's first trip to Indiana. We went to Willow Slough Fish and Wildlife Area, which is an old favorite, though we haven't been there for over a year. It's a 80-mile drive south of Chicago, through miles and miles of flat cornfields. Very dull. Very Midwest. In the past, we had luck at the area's Salisbury Rookery, a large marsh that was often full of ducks. But when we drove by today, all the water had gone: the rookery had become a soybean field.
Once again, we decided to search for the short-eared owl at Glacial Park. But our first stop today was the Chicago Botanic Garden in north-suburban Glencoe. We don't come here much anymore, but we did a lot of our early birding here. Today we just stopped by so I could renew my membership. But in the pond next to the parking lot we did see a pair of TRUMPETER SWANS. They were only about ten feet away, so it was no problem distinguishing them from the similar tundra swan. We then continued north and made a brief stop at the Wadsworth Wetlands Demonstration Project, which is in north-suburban -- you guessed it -- Wadsworth. We didn't see any birds, but we did identify what we think was a Nazi.
The Illinois bird list said there were some short-eared owls at Rollins Savannah, so we decided to give it a try. The savanna is a new preserve located in a northern Chicago suburb called Grayslake. An ugly, mall-filled suburb. Unfortunately, since the savanna is flat, you always know you're in the middle of an ugly mall-filled suburb. We only saw a few birds and left after half an hour. Jesus, Mary, and St. Patrick, do I hate birding ugly places. Does that make me a bad birder?
Today was the Illinois Ornithological Society's (IOS) Gull Frolic at Winthrop Harbor, which is on Lake Michigan just south of the Wisconsin border. We had never been to one of these things, but expert birders were promised to be on hand, so we figured we get a few animals to add to our list. Gulls are a nightmare. There are something like 27 species and each may have up to 5 plumages (first year, second year, breeding, etc.). And worst of all, a lot of them look the same. So sadly, for birders of our skill level, 27 x 5 = forget it.
Today was our last day in Minnesota, and we decided to bird Sax-Zim bog, a rural area northwest of Duluth and famous for birding. We planned to stay till noon and then drive back to Chicago. We stayed till dusk, of course, and didn't get home until 1:30 am. We still hadn't seen any Great Gray Owls this trip, and since we saw a lot of them at Sax-Zim last year, we hoped we might get lucky.
We started on Route 133, where, almost immediately, we saw a large raptor. It was sitting in a tree and turned out to be a juvenile Bald Eagle. An adult (mom or dad?) was just perched just a little down the road. Then we saw another raptor flying over a field. Pole identified it right away by the distinctive markings under its wings: a ROUGH-LEGGED HAWK. Another lifer for us both. We actually saw two of them, so they might have been a breeding pair. We saw them frequently as we drove around the bog.
Today is the first day of a birding trip to Minnesota. We took a shorter trip last year during the unprecedented owl irruption, but don't expect such luck this year. We left Chicago yesterday after work, but spent the night in Wisconsin, making today our first in the beautiful North Star State.
While on route to St. Paul, a BALD EAGLE flew low across our path. It's always easy to ID, so I don't mind it flying in front of me while I'm going 75 mph. Still heading north, Pole saw another bird fly past. (I was too busy driving the car, so couldn't get a good look.) At first she thought it was a Northern Harrier, but after carefully reviewing both the Peterson and Sibley guides, she decided it was a NORTHERN GOSHAWK.
Having a job sucks. But money = good, so not having a job sucks even worse. Basically, then, suckage is all that's on the menu.
I'm getting philosophical here because having a job really cuts into my birding time. That means my Little Year just gets littler and littler. I'm hopeful it won't be littler when it's lighter, because then I can do a little birding after work. Going out before work isn't likely. I'm pretty damn lazy and like my sleep. The point of all my whining is that I didn't see squat all week. Pole was lucky and stumbled upon a MOURNING DOVE last Monday. It's only a week into our Little Year and she's already ahead of me. Oh, well. She usually wins at everything, and I'm resigned to it.
Continue reading "one for three in the owl dept. [13 - 26]" »
| total | lifers | life | |
| pole | 36 | 3 | 437 |
| scrubb | 35 | 5 | 417 |
