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Return to Big Day List |
PA Big Day Details |
| Date | Jun 22, 2008 | ||||||
| Number | 141 | ||||||
| # Seen by All | 138 | ||||||
| Area | State | ||||||
| Time | 0230 to 2400 | ||||||
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| 345 Miles by car, 5 miles by foot. Visiting: Promised Land SP,Tobyhanna SP, Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area, Nockamixon SP, PennWarner Club. Species of note: Snow Goose (L,S), Ring-necked Duck (L,S), Bufflehead (L,S), Double-crested Cormorant (M), Least Bittern (R,S),White-rumped Sandpiper (L,S), Common Tern (R), Barred Owl (M),Whip-poor-will (M),Yellow-throated Vireo (M), Brown Creeper (M), Nashville Warbler (M), Kentucky Warbler (R), Savannah Sparrow (M). At 0230 on Sunday, June 22, Devich Farbotnik and I met near Lake Nockamixon to begin yet another Big Day. I was composing a dramatically verbose introduction to this account, but I must admit that these adventures are starting to run together in my head. I actually have no idea what time Devich and I met. The 0230 part is a complete fabrication. The point is that we did a Big Day, as I’ve said, so it is now my responsibility to relate our results as accurately and entertainingly as possible. We would need 140 species to best my Pennsylvania total from June 11. That route had commenced in the Poconos and concluded in Newburg, Cumberland County, where Andy Markel had lined up for me a number of titillating targets, including Prothonotary Warbler, Blue Grosbeak, and Dickcissel. The route Devich and I had designed would end instead in southern Bucks County. Would the reduced mileage pay off with increased birding time and thus more birds? I’m not going to tell you yet.You need to be more patient. Devich and I stopped first at a Nockamixon parking lot where, back in March, we had been tempted to play the Long-eared Owl whining call near a sunrise Easter mass. This time, we heard Eastern Screech-Owl and, even better, the mellifluous song of the Great Blue Heron lilting in from a nearby colony. Down the road a spell, we paused to listen for the local Yellow-breasted Chat, which vocalized loudly and immediately but was somehow noticed only by Devich. I’ve lately come to the realization that there is nothing wrong with my hearing. Only my concentration, fortitude, and identification skills need improvement. Shortly thereafter, having established my intention to take a shortcut to Quakertown Swamp, I alarmed Devich by maintaining a jaunty seventy miles per hour as we approached the necessary right. “Weren’t you going to—” “Yes,” I said, making one of the uglier turns in the history of motorized transportation. It was going to be an awesome day! While neither Barred Owl nor Sora was in evidence at the swamp, we did record Virginia Rail after an intriguing coded-meaning conversation: *Dev - Did you hear the rail? (translation - You had to hear that. It was obvious.) *me - I’d like to hear it again. (translation - What rail?) *Dev - Did you hear it that time? (translation - Are you stone deaf or merely incompetent?) *me - Oh, that. It’s chirpier than I was expecting. Translation - I wasn’t paying attention before.) *Dev - Good. Let’s go. (translation - I shall never bird with you again.) County songbird stronghold by first light and to luck into Whip-poor-will en route. Neither happened, but I decided I didn’t want to hear a Whip-poor-will anyway. They’re annoying. Eastern Wood-Pewee and Hermit Thrush began the dawn chorus, and by driving Route 390 with the windows cracked before official sunrise, we added several quality passerines, including Black-capped Chickadee, Magnolia and Blackburnian warblers, American Redstart, and Purple Finch. Our primary early-morning site - a large clearcut overgrown with raspberries, hayscented ferns, and patches of forest - proved quieter than it had been in previous weeks, but not significantly so. The ominous cloud cover and chilly temperature weren’t helping. Swarms of wood flies enveloped us as soon as we left the car, prompting Devich to mutter invectives and - in a manner I found disturbingly reptilian - to capture several of the offenders, remove one or both of their wings, and cackle sadistically at them. Fortunately, one of us was actually birding at this point, so most of the specialties eventually fell into place: Black-billed and Yellow-billed cuckoos, Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, Hairy and Pileated woodpeckers, Alder Flycatcher, Veery, Cedar Waxwing, Chestnut-sided and Black-and-white warblers, White-throated Sparrow, and Rose-breasted Grosbeak. At least one Mourning Warbler was vocal as usual, but an unmistakable Kentucky singing adjacent to the Mourning was wholly unexpected and probably a very good bird for the region. Regrettably, the Nashville and Canada warblers and Northern Waterthrush I had found on territory while scouting went M.I.A., forcing us to hurry to and through Promised Land State Park so as to conserve time for Tobyhanna, our backup location for Canadian-zone denizens. Black-throated Blue and Hooded warblers here, Yellow-rumped and Pine there, Blue-headed Vireo and Swamp Sparrow along the way, and we were finished with Promised Land. Only Brown Creeper failed to cooperate. Trying to cram an extra park into an already tight schedule, I drove the next leg like a biblical Jehu, at times nearly gaining us admission to the actual Promised Land. I did slow down in the town of Newfoundland for nesting Bank Swallow and Belted Kingfisher and bonus Green Heron, Chimney Swift, and Orchard Oriole (likely uncommon inWayne County). Speed-walking through a vast, intensely boring stretch of woodland at Tobyhanna State Park, we reached Black Bear Swamp just in time for a pelting rainstorm. This was the fault of the many red efts whose presence on the trail had prompted us to squander precious seconds moving them. Now the fruit of our benevolence toward our amphibian brothers was a birdless drenching. “See if I ever do a good deed again,” I seethed silently, while Devich called in both Canada Warbler and Northern Waterthrush with his iPod and thus made me feel somewhat foolish for seething. Nashville Warbler and creeper were again no-shows, but after Dark-eyed Junco and Black-throated Green on the hike in and both Cliff Swallow and Wild Turkey on the ride out,we were feeling, if not like a million bucks, then at least like a couple hundred grand. The ravens that often festoon the shoulders of I-380 south of Tobyhanna had apparently quoth “Nevermore,” so we sped to State Game Lands 221 east of Mount Pocono and walked deep into the slippery Devil’s Hole glen, where I had located a Winter Wren the week before. As I’d feared, Devich began leaping nimbly over the rocks, whereas I tripped into the creek at seemingly every crossing. On this visit, we had to settle for Louisiana Waterthrush, although it was nice to hear Canada and Black-throated Blue warblers a second time. Just like it’s nice to win a nickel in the lottery. We got out of there fast. Least Flycatcher and Northern Parula were roadside gains in the lower Poconos. As we proceeded south through the quaint hamlet of Analomink, we discussed the origins of that evocative name. I think it’s a Native American word and should be pronounced “ah-nah-LOW-mink.” Devich, on the other hand, feels it is a compound construction, Anal-O-Mink—which begs several interesting questions, none of which I particularly care to hear answered. What were the founders of Anal-O-Mink into? What was it called in the past; what might it be called in the future? (Mink Sphincter was identified as an alternative.) Perhaps it is a person’s surname. If so, and if a Smith is a blacksmith, and aWeber weaves, what does an Anal-O-Mink do? The possibilities are endless. The female Golden-winged Warbler I had found paired with a Blue-winged in Bushkill had, it turned out, been ditched for another Blue-winged. Our attempts to coax her out by playing “Love Is a Battlefield” did not work. Worm-eating, Cerulean, and Prairie warblers made for consolation prizes. Upriver at the Pocono Environmental Education Center, we attracted Red-breasted Nuthatch and Golden-crowned Kinglet in short order and also got a Red-shouldered Hawk either randy or indignant. We passed through the Delaware Water Gap into the Lehigh Valley before noon, only slightly late but hurting for several northern nesters I had counted on. So much for stakeouts. Birding stakeouts aren’t even cool, like police stakeouts. From now on, if I’m involved in a stakeout, it had better involve doughnuts instead of DEET repellent. My job was to get us out of Northampton County between 1400 and 1500, at which point Devich would take over in Bucks. The weekend river traffic had driven Portland’s Common Mergansers into hiding, but Bald Eagle and Osprey were at their nests and Devich heard our only Great Crested Flycatcher of the day. Later, I would also miss our only Red-bellied Woodpecker of the day, undoubtedly to Dev’s great satisfaction. What Devich doesn’t know is that while he was dithering around with mundane subjects like Myiarchus flycatchers, I was observing the Fork-tailed Flycatcher that flew right over us on the Portland footbridge. It went over so quickly, I just didn’t have the chance to say anything. I think it was of the Mexican race.That’s right, Devich, you punk. I saw a Fork-tailed, and you heard a Great Crested. Who’s got the worse unshared bird now? Opting to forego a suite of easy Northampton birds that would be equally easy in Bucks, we were unprecedentedly selective in our stops: Bear Swamp for Cooper’s Hawk and Acadian Flycatcher, Graver’s Hill for Horned Lark and Vesper Sparrow, Lily Hill Road for Savannah Sparrow (missed, but picked up Grasshopper instead), Tatamy for Snow Goose, Hope Road for Yellow-throated Warbler, Arlene Koch’s house for the Ruby-throated Hummingbird I’d missed earlier. Upon spotting our first pigeons near Moorestown, Devich considered phoning his friend Jason Horn and telling him excitedly to “start driving. Just get in the car and head for Moorestown. I’ll tell you more when you’re closer.” On a related note, I’d like to share that whenever I see a Horned Lark, I greet it enthusiastically, since its four-letter abbreviation is HOLA! (Killdeer is also fun. I love people’s reactions when they see me write “kill” in capital letters in my notebook. And Great Egret—GREG—is neat because it makes me feel like I’m on a firstname basis with someone outside my immediate family.) I made it almost back to our meeting place in northeastern Bucks before my drowsiness began to impair my operation of the vehicle. On Route 412, after I’d swerved toward the vegetation with particular aplomb, Devich suggested we switch places. “I don’t understand it,” I sighed. “I usually do this on no sleep. I got a full hour last night.” We’d already bagged American Kestrel and now Dev guided us aptly from bird to bird, steadily plugging the holes in our list (which was at about 110). Nockamixon State Park provided White-eyed Vireo and the same Yellow-breasted Chat I’d missed in the dark, as well as a surprise Common Tern on a buoy. After that, I must have lapsed into a stupor for an hour or two, since I remember a number of new birds but not a mile of our transit between them. In any case, Devich woke me faithfully for all of the following: Black Vulture, Broad-winged Hawk, Red-headed Woodpecker, Brown Thrasher, Bobolink, Eastern Meadowlark, Carolina Chickadee, Purple Martin, and Common Merganser. Somewhere in there was our first Carolina Wren, too (we’d gotten Northern Mockingbird and Brown-headed Cowbird similarly late). By the time we realized we’d neglected Yellow-throated Vireo, we were too far south to do much about it. Now in Devich‘s truck, we sped down the Delaware to the consistently productive private holdings in the Tullytown area. If we could relocate some or all of the unseasonal species Dev had seen on Saturday, we could break the record. Blue Grosbeak (multiple), Peregrine Falcon (under the turnpike bridge), and Mute Swan were straightforward, but we were banking on six gull species and the typical larid congregation was curiously absent. Hoping they’d drop in closer to dusk (the landfill was closed, after all), we invested a chunk of our limited remaining daylight in a dredge spoil area where Bonaparte’s Gull and a milieu of shorebirds had been dallying. The gull was gone, but breeding Spotted Sandpiper andWillow Flycatcher were around, and a White-rumped Sandpiper represented a new Bucks late date. Thanks to Devich’s recent “yardwork” on the main dike, the walk through the rank weeds was less of a frontier experience, though he’d certainly cut a path wide enough to accommodate the occasional Conestoga wagon. We tried in vain for the local Great Egret, then positioned ourselves on the shore of Van Sciver Lake in order to, like a certain ambitious bear, “see what we could see. “ A pair of Bufflehead and a drake Ring-necked Duck were excellent, as was the expected but still needed Wood Duck - and finally a few gulls trickled in. Incredibly, we milked five species out of the virtual larid dearth, including Laughing and Lesser Black-backed. “O great birding god,” I prayed, “I thank thee for these ratty-looking gulls with which thou hast provided us, and also for increasing the suspense via delay. It hath been interesting.” It got dark, as it so often does after sunset. Pied-billed Grebe answered our moorhen tape, but the moorhen itself was on mute. On the ride to Devich’s Least Bittern pond, I picked out a flying Great Horned Owl, but I could not pick out the quiet grunting of the bittern. (Devich, of course, could.) An adult Black-crowned Night-Heron stood pallid as a ghost on the Silver Lake spillway. Before returning north, we stopped at a Wawa, where I was afraid Devich would find me fast asleep, propped up between the Pringles and the beef jerky. To stay alert during the hour back to the Nockamixon area, Dev and I discussed the feasibility of a reptile/amphibian Big Day and then brainstormed a list of The Worst Situations in Which to Imitate a Least Bittern. We came up with (1) while receiving a speeding ticket and (2) in front of a stranger’s house, as Devich had done earlier. By now, a lot of Bucks County residents probably think Devich has an extremely creepy laugh. In the end, we tallied a record 141 species, but because we missed Double-crested Cormorant, American Woodcock, and Sora in the hour before midnight, my personal total of 138 was actually one bird lower than my total from earlier in the month. That seemed cruel, but I was too hopped up on energy drinks to care. The energy lasted until the final half-hour of my drive home, when I nodded off and nearly became intimate with a guard rail. I have now consumed an entire box of Good & Plenty candies and am going to be sick on the computer, so this is necessarily my conclusion. We believe 150- 160 is a reasonable goal for early June. P.S.: I did not actually see a Fork-tailed Flycatcher in Northampton County, Pennsylvania. If you contact me to ask about this, we can no longer be friends. | |||||||