Looking like Bazooka Joe at the start of 2009 The Big Sit.Last year I blogged from the Indigo Hill birding tower throughout The Big Sit. This year my trusty laptop was off getting a new brain put in, so I was reduced to sharing reports via my iPhone on Twitter and Facebook. This was much easier for me, but perhaps not as informative for those of you on the receiving end, since Twitter limits each "tweet" to 140 characters.
I ascended the tower stairs at 11:48 and set myself up to start the 2009 Big Sit. Coats, headlamps, checklist, pens, gloves, my iPod, and miscellaneous other items went up the last set of stairs. The night air was cool and damp—but still, which would make hearing nighttime flight calls of migrants easier. The tower deck and rails were wet with dew, so I spread out a towel to keep my gear dry.
At the stroke of midnight I sent our this tweet:
Good luck and good birding to all Big Sit circles around the world! First bird here in Whipple: Swainson's thrush! The thrush, and at least a dozen of his friends were flying overhead, uttering the flight call that sounds just like a spring peeper. Within minutes I had great horned and barred owl calling in the nearby woods. The half moon rose in the East, blood-red then tangerine then pale-butter in color as it climbed into the inky night.
My next tweet reflected my frustration at the other sounds of the night:
Heard: E. screech owl, gray catbird, wood thrush, Chevy Cavalier sans muffler, coonhound, 12-gauge shotgun, unidentified sparrow.At 12:25:
There go the coyotes! Sounds like two packs. Eerie! Falling star tally: 3. Last new bird: Savannah sparrow.By 1:15 am, things had quieted down, so I went back downstairs for a few hours' sleep. From past experience I assumed that the best time for additional nighttime birding would be in the two hours before dawn, when nocturnal migrants would be flying at lower altitude, prior to landing after dawn for foraging and rest. I set my alarm for 5 am and settled in for a bit of rest myself.
I made it back to the tower at 5:30, a bit bleary-eyed, but excited. Coffee was brewing and I had the whole Big Sit stretching out in front of me. It was still almost completely dark. Other Big Sit circles around the U.S. sent out tweets and text messages, comparing notes. We'd be in touch throughout the day, which was very cool.
By the time I heard the crunching gravel of the first fellow sitter to arrive at Indigo Hill, the list stood at 7 species. The early arrival was
Jim McCormac, who'd driven down from Columbus, Ohio. Jim is a great birder and his eyes and ears would net us several new birds for the Big Sit list. As good as Jim is at hearing and identifying soft, distant bird noises, he does not have a realistic idea of his own noise making. Jim thought he'd been sneaky—driving up our long, gravel driveway slowly, without headlights. Stopping next to the garage he proceeded to play a recording of a Chuck-wills-widow. Somehow thinking I'd be fooled into believing this prank. Silly man.
6:12 am. First fellow sitter arrives: Jim McC. We are mired temporarily at 8 species. Just added chipping sparrow.
Soon
Zick joined us up in the tower, as did house guests Anton and
Nina Harfmann. In the hour prior to actual daylight, a heavy fog rolled up from the valley, enclosing us in its wet embrace.
Jim, Zick, Nina, Anton in the fog.The resident birds soon began to wake up, and the list began to grow. Slowly at first, then in a fast jumble.
6:44 am Indigo Hill Big Sit is now in double figures. Field sparrow and saw-whet owl! Take us up to 12.The saw-whet was a surprise. We'd never had one on the Big Sit before. But this bird was consistently calling a descending
wheeeer from the north woods for a couple of hours just before dawn. We took this as a good omen
Jim and Nina at a slow shutter speed..The fog dulled the power of the day-bringing sun. For nearly an hour we were bathed in a misty blue light.
Still too early to see much, but plenty to listen to. Photo by Julie Z.
Hearing birds, but straining to spot them in the fog made us wish the sun would hurry higher into the sky.
Only the closest trees were discernible. We wondered if the fog helped us by forcing migrant birds lower, or if it hurt us by hiding flyovers we might otherwise see.
Soon the fog began to clear, and we could see both the trees and the birds zipping in and out of them.
Chet Baker came up to the tower, once it warmed up a bit. From there he could see everyone arriving. He wore his letter sweater for warmth but it also made a nice fashion statement.
8:26 am Red-shouldered hawk and redtail. We now have more birds than birders. Current total 45 species!
More folks arrived with the daylight. Our ridge top came out of the fog by about 9:00 am. People arriving at our farm described pea-soup fog in Marietta and along the highway. We had clear skies and birds to watch. The 2009 Indigo Hill Big Sit was about to hit full stride.
She is the Science Chimp who leads the science club at Salem Liberty Elementary and gets young f0lks to tune into the amazing living things all around us.
She is the living embodiment of Scooby-doo's friend Velma, shown here with Daphne solving a mystery involving Old Man Wiggins.
She is called Mommy or Mom by a couple of the sweetest kids ever to wear dorky hats.
Crazy Bird Lady is another moniker. When this red-headed woodpecker showed up at our feeders last winter, Julie immediately hung a bird house up for it, held in place by bungee cords. The woodpecker, recognizing that this was the CBL, immediately moved in for a week-long stay.
She is rarely referred to as being tall—at least in physical stature. Yet she is a towering tree in terms of wisdom and talent. Here she is cracking us up on Easter Sunday while posing for a photo with my mom, Elsa.
Years ago, when we were first talking by phone about an art project for Bird Watcher's Digest, I found out that Julie was a musician, which made her vastly more fascinating to me. So I courted her with my best rawk song.
Now Julie plays in a band with me and several other special people: Craig and Wendy (Jessie and Kage not pictured, but equally special). We Rain Crows have fun always.
She plays the pennywhistle like a pro—sometimes morphing it into a jazz stick when the mood strikes her.
And she's not above throwing down some sweet dance moves, as she is doing here during a Hog Island seminar.
Crazy Turtle Lady is another nom de nature. As is Crazy Bat Lady.
In the fields of nature writing, painting, and sharing, she is outstanding. And out standing.
And sometimes she is also out lying in her fields of endeavor.
And she is the best person I've ever met at self-actualizing. She is rarely happier than when she is alone in her little kayak, floating among the birds and butterflies and turtles. Now if only she could bring Chet Baker along in the boat....
