422 - The Heron's Plan

First, we squinted, then we peered through binoculars, and finally I zoomed in with my camera to make sense of the dark shapes. The ducks had a funny conehead and a gracefully swooped patch of gray on their side. The pale ring around their dark beak was the most distinctive character. I'm not good at waterfowl, so I wracked my brain for a likely ID…were they ring-billed ducks? That would be logical. But no, a quick peek through the Merlin app's helpful photos confirmed that these were ring-necked ducks. Huh?

Just having returned from a week of birdwatching on the Atlantic coast, the plump-bodied, long-billed silhouette of this "hokumpoke" reminded us of the sanderlings, dunlins, and willets we'd watched scurry ahead of the waves. It's a strange fact that despite their preference for damp thickets instead of beaches, woodcocks are the most numerous sandpiper in North America.

The fish appeared to be a striped mullet, a common species of coastal waters. At first, the mullet appeared to be winning. They flopped and slipped father through the herons bill, surely about to escape the final grip on their head. Then the heron's plan became apparent. All the movement was maneuvering the fish's head to aim aerodynamically into the heron's beak. With one last toss of their head, the fish disappeared.

It was well before sunrise as we drove into the Namekagon Barrens Wildlife Area and parked the truck. Moving as silently as possible, we grabbed our chairs, a much needed thermos of coffee, and started the walk to the viewing blind, its white silhouette barely visible in the distance. Once to the blind, we crawled inside, set up our chairs, and unclipped the blinds windows. I stared out into the dark of the early morning, feelings of excitement and anticipation buzzing through me. Afterall, it's not everyday that I get the chance to watch sharp-tailed grouse dance on their lekking ground. 

On the inside, turkey vultures' intense stomach acids can kill the microbes that cause botulism, anthrax, cholera, tuberculosis, salmonella, and rabies. How appropriate that the birds' scientific name—Cathartes aura—means "purifying breeze." Their digestive system is so powerful that it even destroys the DNA of their food. As of March 27, I still haven't seen a turkey vulture in the Northwoods, but soon they'll be showing up on the wind and helping us out with a little spring cleaning! 

From the top of a leafless oak tree commenced a steady stream of whistles and warbles that sounded as if an entire flock of flickers, vireos, titmice, cardinals, and wood thrushes were all taking turns. Just one robin-sized bird perched there, though. Brown thrashers are "mimics" who increase their repertoire of songs and show off their skills to the ladies by copying from other birds. Across the Southeast are  brown thrashers who will soon be migrating north, just a little bit behind the loons. Their concert tour continues! Plan to attend one of their performances at dawn in your local shrubbery. 

Scientists used to think that almost all our Common Loons spend the winter on salt water. From across the northern lakes, loons migrate to both coasts and the gulf each fall to avoid ice-up. Now we know that more than 100 loons spend each winter on a large freshwater lake in South Carolina. In this relatively small area, it becomes easier to carry out research on loon behavior.

As mother nature slowly begins to tease us with the occasional warm day, and longer periods of sunlight, I can't help but dream of warmer days spent exploring outside, underneath the forest canopy. One of my favorite things to do while exploring the forest is to take in the intricacies of the forest floor, and discover the diverse life that inhabits that space. Between the litter layer, growing mosses, and decaying logs, a utopia full of life is waiting to be unearthed. 

Seeing a moth seemed to signal that evening was coming, and our thoughts turned to owls. Sax-Zim Bog is famous for hosting rare owls. Last year was an incredible irruption year when great gray owls, boreal owls, and snowy owls visited from their homes farther north. This year has been much quieter. A few great gray owls nest here, but lately they've been secretive. We'd heard that a northern hawk owl was hunting at the edge of a field on some of the private land that makes up the patchwork of ownership in Sax-Zim Bog Important Bird Area in Northern Minnesota, so off we went! 

The Canada jays swooped from the feeding station, back over my head, and disappeared into the forest behind me. Were they taking peanut butter to their chicks? These intrepid birds nest in February and March! That's one reason their food caches are so important.