Birdstud's Birdchat

The Great Northwest Birding Adventure of 2011 (part two)

2012-02-12T19:26:00.000-06:00

Western Gull - Pet?

The Ester Lee Motel is a classic gem standing proudly on the rocky bluff next to route 101, in the bucolic and friendly Oceanside community of Lincoln City, OR. Lisa (my sister) and her significant other “Shaun” had graciously rented a surprise cottage for the evening. Cottage number 229 was completely wonderful, and cozy! The view (“Ahh, what you can see from the Ester Lee!”) was magnificent and the cabin-like accommodations splendid. Once the overnight gear was stowed in the building, we jumped back in the car and drove a little ways south into the serene village. We parked in the public lot at the end of SW 51^st street just down from MO’S where we would all later dine on delicious MO’s creations such as their famous “Slumgullion” chowder in a “cannonball (bread) bowl”.

California Sea Lions

Before we sat down to dine, we walked the rugged public beach area as an intermittent, light, but cool rain fell. Fortunately this combination of setting sun and falling water droplets created a beautiful rainbow to the east. The narrow water channel we walked alongside provided a curious view of the bank opposite us, as a multitude of California sea lions lay piled up near the water’s edge. They were safely out of harm’s way and seemed happily ensconced in the moist sand. Male California sea lions are dark grayish or chocolate brown, while females are lighter brown. Newborn pups are dark chocolate brown to black and weigh about 13 pounds. Male California sea lions are much larger than females, weighing as much as 1,000 pounds, and measuring up to 8.2 feet long. Females weigh up to 250 pounds and reach lengths of up to 6.6 feet.

Crack that whip!

Odd looking strands of rope-like structures with bulbous ends were strewn here and there on our side of the channel. Shaun noted that these were pieces of tidal-deposited “Bull Kelp” as they resembled a giant length of bull whip. Nereocytis luetkeana kelp – (AKA: edible kelp, bull kelp, bullwhip kelp, ribbon kelp, giant kelp, and bladder wrack) is the Greek word for Mermaid’s Bladder and can grow in lengths up to 74 meters. The specimens that had washed up here were considerably shorter and could in fact be wielded like a whip. Like all novice whip-wielders may admit, trying it for the first time, ain’t necessarily all its “cracked” up to be. I say this, because I was not the only one to give it a mighty flip; only to be struck somewhere on my own body hard enough to cause real physical pain. Polly the toy poodle, wearing a doggy-sized camouflage coat; rambled back and forth along the beach in frantic zig-zag fashion, sniffing and snuffling. The sun began to set as the six of us took pictures and turns looking through our binoculars at the bird-life this section of coastal landscape had to offer.

Pelagic Cormorants

The next morning Barbara, Anna, Polly and I walked down the paved road from 229 to the beach below the Ester Lee. Polly couldn't behave herself and kept on barking to the point where a nearby private residence opened its door to emit a cranky foul-mouthed Lincoln City resident who was displeased with the early morning nuisance. Poor Anna took the brunt of this guy's unhinged ire as she had been chasing the damn dog all over in order to get it to shut up. Barbara and I walked the beach, looking at the rocks and wood that littered the tidal zone. There were no beautiful shells of any kind to be found here...just rocks and mussels. After a shower and a leisurely conversation in the cottage's living room, we packed up the vehicle and checked out. We visited the towns of Gleneden Beach, Lincoln Beach, Depoe Bay, Otter Rock, Beverly Beach, Agate Beach and as far south as Newport, OR. A high bridge took us to the southern end of the city to our chosen destination. The birding was tremendous along the long man-made length of sand-filled concrete bulwark that was at the end of SW 26th Street. The twin jetties basically formed a safe and calmer sea inlet to the city proper. It was along this wall that I would score my first Pelagic and Brant's cormorant, male Harlequin duck, Black oyster-catcher and Surf Scoters! Brown pelicans and Double-crested cormorants hung out together on the rock outcroppings, as orange starfish clung to the submerged rocks just at the surf line.

Coast Guard training at DePoe Bay

Heading back north on the way back to Silverton, we stopped again at Depoe Bay as it had stopped raining for 5 minutes...Ok...well maybe it was 10...to look again at the scenery from outside the car. The town (officially formed in 1927) was named after a local resident, Charlie DePoe, a Joshua Indian who settled in that area in 1894. It was in this general area that I also recorded another life-bird...the Heerman's gull. A rocky projection in the distance; made up of volcanic spew, was the current fishing grounds to dozens of Brown pelicans, Western gulls and other smaller shorebirds. The Heerman's were huddled on the nearer sand beach in a small knot, facing the waves. The Heerman's Gull is the size of a Ring-billed Gull, but stockier. It is unique in that its plumage is mostly dark. The Heerman's Gull has a dark gray back and wings with a lighter gray body. The head is white with a black-tipped red bill and a dark eye. The tail is black with a white terminal band. The wing has a white trailing edge and black tips. Some individuals have a white patch at the wrist. The feet are black. A Pacific species, the Heerman's Gull nests in western Mexico, and spends the non-breeding season in marine areas. A variety of coastal habitats, including rocky shores, bays, small offshore islands, kelp beds, sandy beaches, and estuaries, are all potential roosting sites. They seldom spend time at garbage dumps or on fresh water. It was rainy and a strong cool wind was blowing so we couldn't spend much time observing them, however the sight was unforgettable for a birder.

Heerman's Gulls

The next day (November 8th, 2011) Barbara and I were on our own as our hosts needed to go to work and school, so armed with handy suggestions of where to find birds; off we went to find adventure. Our first stop of the day was the "bird go round" near Keizer, OR. which was technically a sewage water treatment plant for the City of Salem...but we didn't hear that bit of detail from Lisa. We drove to the area she had indicated on a hand-drawn map and discovered a small wetlands area that was created by the sanitation district as a "natural" area of ecological renewal - wetlands restoration. After walking the gravel paths that wound their way around four ponds, seeing a decent amount of waterbird-life; we spied two structures through the chain-link fencing that partitioned off the natural area. Yes indeed these appeared to be round, and sure enough there were birds flying and some that had landed on the structural members that were slowly rotating, stirring up the good citizens of Salem's wastewater into something recyclable. It dawned on me what my creative sister had been referring to when she suggested we bird here. The cool of the surrounding air meeting with the warmth of the poo-water created a curious fog that arose from the slowly revolving gull carousel. All that was missing was some calliope music and the glorious oily-scent of Pronto Pups. We recorded many Golden-crowned kinglets, Starlings, Coots, Mallards, Green-winged teal, Black-capped chickadee and one Kestrel.

Watch for more!

The next stop on our solo-tour was Silver Falls State Park...in my next installment.

The Great Northwest Birding Adventure of 2011 (part one)

2011-11-20T21:07:00.001-06:00

This series of Birdstud’s Birdchat focuses on the birds (and life) along the Oregon Coast. To the locals it’s the “Orgun” coast and to me it was “Or-e-GONE” until I was corrected enough to have it sink in my Midwestern bird brain.

Funny thing about being in Orgun; you can’t pump your own gasoline. It’s true…you pull up to the pump and roll down the window and “order” your gas from a person in a reflective vest. EVERY person has to do it that way – even if you are in a hurry. I embarrassingly discovered an important ritual after my tank had been filled and the kid walked off as I sat quietly in the rental car for about seven minutes waiting for the attendant to return to my window to swipe my card. There I sat, and sat, watching people walking back and forth into the building, other cars arriving - being filled and finally the kid yells to me across the tarmac as I stupidly sat there, “You gotta go IN and pay!” You see, they accept cash from the car window, but if you say to “fill it” on a “debit” (only) card, you have to get out and go inside, to pay it yourself. That’s some kind of union, I thought. There’s no state sales tax on goods, so that’s nice, however the price of gasoline was 60 cents per gallon more expensive than in Wisconsin where people are smart enough to fill their own automobile fuel tanks and lawn mower gas cans. You might be waxing historical quaint visions through your head (if you’re old enough) about “full” service provided by gas stations of yore – don’t. All you get for the extra 60 cents per gallon is the nozzle in your filler throat…that’s it. No clean windshield, no offer to top off your fluids, check your oil, or wipe the bugs from your grille…nothing.

The same union (in league with the ferryman’s union) is no doubt in charge of deciding new bridge construction projects. I have determined this because of the lack of bridges across the Willamette River near their capital city of Salem. There’s one (way) south and one (way) north of the city and in the middle – ferries. By the way, it’s Will-AH-met, not Will-a-MET. And by the way, Oregonians who don’t quite hear what you said and wish you’d repeat yourself will say to you, “do what?” Another regional lesson learned was that if something was expensive (like the $ 3.79/ga gasoline) it’s considered “spendy.” Except the locals didn’t bitch about the price of gas or the fact that they are banned from using the gas pump dispenser, or the missing bridges…that was me. Other than that Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?

Truthfully, the entire wilderness coastal area was wonderfully bucolic in an extremely humidified way. I have never seen so much moss. North side, south, east and west side of every tree in the forest. Get lost in these woods – good luck. Talk about BIG trees! I’ve not yet seen the Redwoods of northern CA. however these massive trunks would give most of them a run for their money, in the girth department. As such, the woods were temporary home to many of the birds that had already left Milwaukee in mid-September.

In the Baskett Slough National Wildlife Refuge I chocked up a new (life) bird, the Bewick’s Wren. Other birds of that damp and green area were Stellar’s Jays, Yellow-rumped warblers, Brown creepers, Black-capped chickadees, Red-breasted nuthatches, Red-shafted Northern flickers, Hairy and downy woodpeckers, American crows, Common Ravens, Spotted towhees, and the (ever-popular) American robin.

Stopping the car along the road into the slough next to open water, countless geese were swimming. There are numerous subspecies of Canada geese and now, even 2 separate species (2004). What was once considered the Canada goose has now been divided into 2 species: the Canada goose and Cackling (Branta hutchinsii) goose. There are 7 subspecies of Canada goose, and 4 subspecies of cackling goose. Each subspecies is somewhat distinct in appearance and migration patterns. All look more or less like the Canada goose familiar to us all: brown body feathers, a black neck and head, and white cheek patch. However, size among subspecies can vary greatly, and markings can vary subtly. The two species were represented here in tremendous numbers: Canada and Cackling, with Cackling far outnumbering their larger (deeper voiced) relatives. As well as being much smaller; Cackling Geese also tend to have rounder heads, and shorter, stubbier bills than Canada Geese. Cackling Geese generally have a more rapid and higher pitched, or "cackling" call which was quite discernable when a flock was flying over. Maybe it was me, but I could notice that the flocks of Cacklers were nowhere as uniformly “V” looking as the Canada flocks I am familiar with.

Fall birding in the Willamette Valley presented a unique chance to view one of the subspecies of Canada goose; the Dusky goose. The dusky is a subspecies of Canada goose that breeds only in the Copper River Delta area on the south-central coast of Alaska and on islands in the Prince William Sound and Gulf of Alaska. They winter primarily in the Willamette Valley and along the lower Columbia River of Oregon and Washington. The dusky has one of the smallest populations of geese in North America and were in small numbers when I saw them on the banks of the Columbia River, near Portland. Here they feed on nutrient-rich grasses that grow in the wet, mild winters until they depart in early April. In the late 1950s, managers recognized that wintering habitat for duskies was limited and hunting needed to be restricted to protect duskies. At that time, duskies made up about 2/3 of the geese in the Willamette Valley, and it was recognized that the area was essential to their winter survival. The dusky is a medium to large, dark subspecies of Canada goose. They have darker backs and breasts compared to other subspecies in this area. Some duskies may be wearing red neck collars with white letters. Duskies are often found in small groups by themselves or mixed with other subspecies.

A surprise stop along the Salmon River in the tiny village of Otis, Oregon was almost worth the entire trip. Here in a nondescript series of buildings, sandwiched between some foothills and the highway is the one and only Salmon River Pronto Pup! When it comes to authentic golden deep-fried crunchy corn goodness; nothing beats 'em. This fine dining establishment has been handing oil-dipped, cornmeal-coated tubes of assorted organ meats across its weathered, laminated counter, to eager customers since 1946. I stood mesmerized, watching from the outside through a strategically placed window into the actual kitchen area where the magic happens. I gasped as it dawned on me the secret to making a perfect Pronto Pup; wipe your weenie dry with a rag first, before dipping it.

I recall when I attended Catholic school in Coon Rapids, Mn. that the lunch menu often had these delicasies as the main dish. I remember it because I wasn't sophisticated enough to have heard the true name for the lowly "corn dog" I had been previously familiar with as an elementary schooler from Madison, WI. until then and the moniker always stuck with me. I often wondered through the years where the name had come from. I suppose it rolled off the tongue more smoothly than would say, "Fast Dog" and so now here I was 40 years later again (way) west of the Mississippi (where they've never heard of a bubbler), staring at a blast from my past. I almost had to blink twice when I read the large menu sign over the counter. Hey, you can get six regular pups for 12 bucks! Lisa ordered up and paid for all of us. Plus, she threw in an order of the homemade sweet potato fries - the best I have ever eaten; hands down. The disclaimer sign above the counter reminds the wary health conscious among us that the pups are, "Healthy We Cook In Trans Fat Free Oil,' for goodness sake.

The small dining area reeked pleasantly of hot oil as the six of us sat munching our piping pups. As I am prone to doing; I looked around at the various merchandise items for sale. One wall had the obligatory display of restaurant-fan tee shirts but also harbored a unique twist; the actual, sacred, original formula, Pronto Pup mix! I looked at the sign that advertised the five pound bag for 15 bucks and hestiated only slightly before discovering that not only one, but TWO free additional packages of the authentic pup "sticks" went along with the deal. SCORE! Of course I bought both the bright yellow tee shirt and the mix (with free sticks included) in a heartbeat. I mean c'mon...who wouldn't right? Granted, I have known for some time that it doesn't take all that much to impress me, or make me want to pump my fist into the air with delight. However, that was clearly one of those moments. I make no apology.

With the day moving along towards afternoon, it was time to move further west toward the actual Orgun coast. We all carefully shoe-horned ourselves into the Mazda along with Polly the toy poodle, and happily belched our way towards Lincoln City and the waiting Esther Lee Motel...more to come!

Resources:

http://www.fws.gov/WillametteValley/Complex/dusky.html

http://www.oceanwanderers.com/CAGO.Subspecies.html

To be or Not to be?

2011-11-18T12:33:00.001-06:00

I’ll admit it…I want to be noticed too.

I have formulated a (50-year) theory about human beings of which has yet to be disproven. This concept is the primary overarching theme for all Homo sapiens on this glorious blue planet - and that is simply: to Matter.

There are other words in the English language that get close, but don’t quite describe our mutual unconscious, life-long, need to matter - such as, to be: significant, important, vital, valuable, worthy, essential, key, and focal. I choose the word “matter” because it is simply and universally understood. Think about it; have you ever found yourself questioning your miserable existence? Have you ever decided to do something (anything) merely to have others “notice” that you (personally) haven’t left the struggle?

To fully understand and embrace this concept about oneself is to finally come to grips with previously erratic and inexplicable personal behavior. In other words; relax and give in to it…there’s nothing you can do. It is akin to accepting the daily tides, annual migration, and that gas prices always go up.

Knowing about (and believing in) this particular inalienable driving force of human nature will provide answers to a multitude of seemingly random personal choices. It explains tattoos, body piercings, ear lobe gauging, radically colorful hair, myriad varieties of unconventional dress, the joining of cults, participation in protest movements, call-in talk radio shows, comments to on-line articles, blogging, Facebook, My Space, and Twitter. It brings clarity to the motivation behind overachieving athletes, budding cinema stars and nerdy scientists.

These observances of the insatiable need to matter encompass all ages, races, creeds, genders, and sexual orientation. No one is immune. From the person who jumps from a bridge with a bungee cord attached to their ankles, to the one that jumps without. From the successful professional championship team to the plain and simple discalced friar who discovers a tasty new variety of wine-producing grapes. From the stay-at-home Mom that wins the blueberry pie contest at the state fair to the top-notch executive who implements an innovative company resource-saving idea. Don’t exclude the inner-city youth who shows the rest of the neighborhood kids the loose grating on the drainage ditch that allows undetected travel throughout the city, or the group of bystanders who lift a burning car from a trapped motorcyclist. In their own ways, these individuals have found ways (if only for a brief moment) to matter to the rest of their peers.

Is it healthy to attempt to matter?

That’s a good question. Ask the car bomber if it was in the world’s best interest that he chose to end lives and spread havoc to further his chosen cause. Get an opinion from the coach of a state championship team as to the difference they made in the lives of the participants. Query a teenager sitting in the tattooist’s chair (for their fourth inked design) if they are gratified by showing off the result of their investment. I frankly don’t know what carefully considered rationale you’ll get from them; however I expect they’ll be extremely passionate about their actions. See mattering doesn't have to be big...it can be something subtle, but something that makes one stand out and become visibly special to others. We crave it above all else.

I believe on the whole (with some obvious exceptions) that it IS healthy to aspire to matter, and to furthermore be educationally tolerant with those who are struggling with understanding the concept. With youth, that means explaining that they are an extraordinary person regardless of the trappings of expensive physical alterations. Granted that’s a tall order in today’s instantly broadcast society which glorifies the unconventional; but an important one at that. Adults require validation too. The workplace; where most of us spend the majority of our time, is a perfect environment in which to acknowledge the efforts placed on mattering. A few simple words of encouraging acknowledgement to humans act as warming sunshine does to struggling plant life.

Think about that toddler who beamingly displays their new shoes to all in the room and understand that it's in all of us from the beginning. So the next time someone you feel ignored and insignificant and someone finally notices enough to ask you, “What’s the matter?” Stand tall and answer confidently (if not mysteriously), “I AM and I DO!”

PS: I got new vanity plates for the white pick-up truck...SEE? In other words; Look at Me!

The Mighty Mississippi chronicles

2011-08-22T22:37:00.002-05:00

In this edition of Birdstud’s Birdchat, we’ll be focusing on the birds of the Mississippi Flyway at Mid-August reverse-migration point of the year. We’ll also delve into some more small-town American (Wisconsin-style) moments as we do.

The trip from Milwaukee to Grant County, WI is about 3-1/2 hours at the maximum posted speed limits. I have found that I drive at the limits (watching everyone, and I mean everyone pass me up), because I am older, wiser and don’t want to have constant stress while I drive. You might imagine that I (driving the speed limit) might frustrate other zooming motorists who encounter me on the road, feeling the need for speed as they blast past, and you’d probably be correct. My response would have to be, “so what?” If you are one of these types of drivers; you get what you deserve in the racking up of multiple moving violations, dealing with fender benders, and the incredible non-stop mental angst you put yourself through. But then, I digress…

Our target for the weekend was indeed an incredibly wide and serene section of the Mississippi River adjacent to the US Army Corps ofEngineer’s Grant River Campground, but there were also a few other stops we planned to make in the area before the weekend was over. Long ago glaciers advanced and retreated across Wisconsin, with the last retreat about 12,500 years ago. The southwestern corner however, was untouched and is known as the "driftless" area or Paleozoic Plateau. It is a land of deep valleys, ridges, and bluffs never leveled by the glaciers. The campground (off Hwy 133) is nestled between a vast stretch of the big river and the tiny “Catfish Capital of Wisconsin”; Potosi. Nicholas Perrot discovered southwestern Wisconsin's first lead mine in what is now Potosi. By 1850, the area embraced more than 10,000 hand-dug lead mines, supplying more than half of the nation's supply. Mississippi riverboats carried Wisconsin lead throughout the nation. The region produced virtually all of the lead shot for the Northern forces during the Civil War. One more interesting feature that we soon discovered was also in between the river and Potosi, were two long shiny railroad tracks running right next to the tent campsite I had booked unseen on the Internet.

The 56 other reservable electric sites were all in use with large and impressive (hard-sided) RV units. We later learned that a strong contingent of Good Sam campers from neighboring Iowa had all decided that this weekend was their chance to get together in Wisconsin. They were incredibly organized and had a multitude of activities planned all weekend for their (mostly) aged members to enjoy. One such delightful couple was Bob and Kathy Michael, (from Dubuque) who took up residence adjacent to our track-side site in their (home away from home) pull-behind “hybrid” camper. At one point Kathy brought over to share; the most wonderful homemade molasses cookies I had ever eaten. Once our site was set - complete with tent and sleeping gear and the majority of other (brought-along) items were in place; we motored off to nearby Lancaster, WI and the Grant County Fair.

The fair was located off a non-descript side road from the main highway that split the town of Lancaster. We only found it because I am unopposed to asking directions. I had driven about as far in and out of the town as I dared without seeing the fairgrounds when (at the northern edge of the city) I spotted a large Pamida (next to Gassers True Value hardware – imagine the sad and endless childhood taunting of the little Gassers in elementary school). I drove up to an elderly man, circling his pick-up truck in the parking lot on foot. He was wearing a GB Packers shirt and using a cell phone. The two even older white-haired female passengers in his vehicle quickly deferred to his cartographic prowess when we asked where the fair could be located. He came around to my side of the car and said the following, “you know back the way ya came, where the road kinda’ dips down…you know, then where the road takes a jog…well, the road you want is right there across from the library.” Barbara and I smiled at each other and bid him and his equally smiling passenger’s goodbye, and headed off to the only landmark in his rambling directions that made us certain we’d eventually find it – the library.

After the car was parked in the field earmarked with a hand-painted sign indicating which aisle we had self-parked into, we walked past the wooden sandwich board indicating that an “adult season pass” to the fair was seven dollars. We then halted our advance opposite two elderly VFW-garbed men with a huge roll of entry tickets. “Day or season?” enquired the nearest one, extending the ticket roll. Since I could find no handy reference whatsoever to any other admission choice or price, I opted for two “season” passes, citing the (what the heck, slim to none) possibility that “we could come back on another day.” The surrounding grounds were filled with smiling adults, children and entire families as we worked our way around the perimeter of the fair; past the sprawling antique tractor collector and Platteville Optimist booths. It was going on 6:30 PM and we were both wanting to learn the details of the advertised 7:00 PM Tri-State Truck and Tractor Pull and to get something to eat before the big event. We headed for a huge grandstand-looking building with our questions and our appetites.

People seemed to be standing at a small table near the backside of the stands, receiving a paper wristband in exchange for a business card slip of paper. I found out that this was the “Fair Bonus Card” redemption center and if we had been savvy enough to pre-purchase one; we’d have received “deep discounts” on all purchased beverages and food. Since we had not, we shuffled away to a tall painted plywood kiosk under the stands that was selling beer “tickets” (one for $ 2.50/ two for $ 5.00). A man and woman were both wedged into the small booth. The man leaned toward the window ledge as I approached to ask what purchasing the tickets meant to me. “It’s for the beer” remarked the jug-eared bespectacled, string bean man. He was wearing one of those old-time red and white striped aprons. My second question of “is a beer one or two tickets?” caused him to look backward to the woman as if to ask her if I was for real. He looked back and grinned, “one beer for one ticket.” Wow, I thought and said as much to Barbara. This was great! Being accustomed to paying over six dollars at any number of venues in the greater Milwaukee area for a 12 ounce cup of adult malt beverage, I was elated. “I’ll take two (for now”) I said with real joy in my heart.

After waxing a lengthy Lions Club conversation with the Lancaster Lions members who staffed the beer ticket redemption counter, we got in the queue for the homemade foods. A pork loin sandwich was recommended for me by one of the volunteer grillers and Barbara decided on the “Walking Taco” (A neatly snipped bag of Fritos as the main course, covered with taco meat, cheese, diced tomatoes and shredded lettuce.) We ate at a wooden picnic table under the grandstand with a large cow-barn fan pushing natural coolness onto the bystanders; thoroughly enjoying the local fare. I then wandered over to the ticket window and bought a pair of general admission tickets to the truck and tractor pull for another 14 bucks; plus two more beer tickets later and we were sitting on the aluminum bleacher seats awaiting the next exciting participant in the contest. From the eyes of a complete novice; the Tri-State Truck and Tractor Pullers run a nice, neat, tight competition. Mod 2wd Trucks, Modified V8 Trucks, Hot Farm Tractors, Super Farm Tractors, Super Stock/Pro Stock, Tractors, and the ever popular 2011 SUPER STOCK 4X4s make up the six categories of sliding weight-pulling vehicle. The membership entry fee to the Tri-State club (allowing the members to participate in multiple annual contests) is $100.00 per vehicle (tractor or truck) and $25.00 for each driver to cover insurance. Each puller is allowed two attempts to make a measurable pull within 100 feet. Moving the sled a measurable distance (one inch or farther) is an attempt. Weights pulled, range from 6000 to over 10,000 lbs!

You’ll be happy to know (as I certainly was) that (according to the 69 official general rules) “when a vehicle motor is running someone must be in the driver’s seat at all times in the pits or on the track,” and that “no shorts are allowed during pulling or while working as an official.” When one unlucky puller got off to a great start and suddenly blew something up inside his rig, the sage and wizened track announcer stated the following for the benefit of the assembled crowd of anxious onlookers; “You know these tractors are pushed far harder than God ever intended them to be sometimes.” Amen brother.

The 30-minute ride back to the Grant River Campground was uneventful. We climbed into the small nylon tent to collect some blissful shut-eye when the first of the eight, nightly speeding Burlington Northern Santa Fe (BNSF) freight trains, suddenly slammed onto the tranquil scene. Our campsite was strategically layed out midway between two (mandatory 140 decibel, locomotive horn-blaring) crossroads. We were particularly ensured to hear both engineer-delivered warning blasts with equanimity. The brain does crazy things when the lights are out and imagining that the incredible cacophonous racket caused by the passing train cars would evolve into a screeching, twisting, accordion wreck of massive landscape-flattening freight cars is an easy one. The BNSF (formed in 1996 out of the merger of the Burlington Northern and Santa Fe railways) is the second largest freight railroad in America, and is based out of Fort Worth, Texas. BNSF directly owns and operates over 24,000 miles of track, in 27 states, hauling primarily grain, coal and intermodal freight. These fascinating BNSF details were unfortunately lost on the both of us in the middle of the night while fighting to stay asleep between repeat performances. Oh, and it rained too. Hard.

Bird watching the next morning was wonderfully diverse. While the coffee perked on the old green E-Bay Coleman stove; bright orange and black Baltimore orioles sat singing on an overhead electrical wire. A large group of Red-winged blackbirds gathered in a nearby tree to verbally strategize their day as (over twenty) Turkey vultures soared in low trajectory arcs over the dual train tracks. Cicadas were just warming up to their full pitch when the morning sun began to dry the moisture from the green tent and red bag chairs. Many other birds could be seen and heard within the campground confines. The list we tallied includes: Indigo bunting, Northern cardinal, Black-capped chickadee, American goldfinch, American robin, European starling, House finch, House sparrow, Downy woodpecker, Eastern wood pewee, Gray catbird, Chipping sparrow, White-breasted nuthatch, Field sparrow, Tree swallow, Barn swallow, Chimney swift, Mourning dove, American crow, Cedar waxwing, Least flycatcher, Great crested flycatcher, Eastern kingbird, Tundra swan, Great blue heron, Solitary sandpiper, Blue-winged teal, Ring-billed gull, American pelican, and Belted kingfisher.

The surrounding farmland was planted and thriving with eight-foot tall corn and acres of soybean plants. The entire area along the Mississippi basin seemed lush and green; apparently plenty of rain had fallen in this year’s growing season. We put the Canoe-dle in at the handy concrete campground landing in the early evening, to partially escape being broiled within the shiny watercraft. Light intermittent rain showers caused us to head for the shelter of overhanging trees near the northeast bank on several occasions, but the two hours we spent slowly paddling and exploring were relaxingly splendid. Lilly pads along the sides of the river were huge and plentiful. Duck weed covered the surface of the still near-shore water with a speckled brilliant green. Large Catfish and other unknown shallow water creatures stirred the muddy river bottom as our aluminum canoe passed them overhead.

All in all, the trip was satisfying on many levels. The camping, biking, and canoeing each complimented the surrounding beauty of the countryside, and even the noise of the trains was a unique opportunity to study the strength of American rail commerce. We included a delightful Potosi Brewery tour and beer-drinking experience as part of this trip; however it will be detailed in another blog installation at another time. This one’s getting long and I’m sure you need to take a break now. Thanks for reading and (hopefully) enjoying the journey along with us, at this little slice of the Wisconsin bank of the Mighty Mississippi!

Canoeing the Milwaukee River (part two)

2011-08-09T19:42:00.040-05:00

The Beautiful Milwaukee River (downtown)

In part one of this (two-part) vignette, the intrepid voyageurs of the “USS Canoe-dle” (17’ aluminum hand-me-down canoe) paddled and floated down a serenely bucolic, nearly four mile stretch of the Milwaukee River upstream of the focus of this next installation. This time they were going “downtown” and into the actual shipping lanes of the same river, for their eventual take-out.

On a mostly clear and humid Saturday morning in late July 2011, the two vehicles (the canoe-bearing Mountaineer, and the IBIRD Dodge retrieval truck) left the driveway at around 9:30 AM. A cooler full of iced-down sparkling water, sun screen and other typical canoeing gear was loaded aboard for the trip down river. We (Barbara and I) both had our bird watching gear and digital camera along to capture the day’s watery adventure. The first thing to do was to spot the retrieval truck at a convenient point at which to take out, also considering the important aspects of economically and safely parking for hours while we came southward along the Milwaukee County Urban Water Trail. After consulting the awesome Milwaukee Riverkeepers river map-book we had printed off the home Epson, we decided that Milwaukee County Parks, Riverside Boat Launch at Bruce Street held promise. At around 9:45 AM, we parked IBIRD on Water Street (no signage), south of the launch and looked at the launching fees posted there. No attendant was on duty. We figured since all we were planning to do was take-out (not launch and park) there would be no fee associated.

Launching, 2011 Rates, Pending DNR Approval (prices listed include sales tax)
	Daily	Seasonal	Age 60+
	Daily	Seasonal	Seasonal
Jet Ski, Resident	$9.00	$90.00	$60.00
Jet Ski, Non-Resident	$10.00	$100.00	$70.00
Non-Motorized, Resident	$6.75	$67.50	$45.00
Non-Motorized, Non-Resident	$7.00	$70.00	$55.00
Under 20 feet, Resident	$10.50	$105.00	$70.00
Under 20 feet, Non-Resident	$12.00	$120.00	$90.00
Over 20 feet, Resident	$14.75	$147.50	$85.00
Over 20 feet, Non-Resident	$15.50	$155.00	$105.00

Together we drove north to Commerce Street and parked opposite the concrete ramp down to the dock area of the Milwaukee Rowing Club. This is designated as a “public” launch and may be used at any time the Rowing Club is not utilizing it for exercises. No Rowing Club members were visible at 10:00 AM when we carried the Canoe-dle and her gear down to the aluminum boat ramp that lead to a convenient floating plastic dock. Barbara handles her “end” of the canoe quite expertly as (even though it is aluminum), it is quite heavy. Loading equipment and bodies went well with no mishaps. We first set off upstream about 800 yards to the base of the North Avenue dam’s churning outflow for a quick look. We were able to swing into the rapids from behind the walking bridge abutment and get a “push” from the current, sending us downriver once more. That was enough of a look, so away we went towards downtown.

The river was plenty high and wide at this point and the sun was baking down directly from above, so we kept primarily to the somewhat shaded sides. The other reason to do so were the occasional other boaters, kayakers, canoeists and Milwaukee Rowing Club trainees who would paddle, churn, and slice by our canoe. The long oars of the sculling craft reaching out and twisting like that of giant water striding beetles, paralleled by encouraging teammates on their motorized follow craft. There was a more pronounced “odor” of storm sewer on this section; the closer we got to downtown. Bascule bridges were plentiful as we drifted underneath each one in turn, generally on the leftmost downstream channel. The rusty red underpinnings and peeling black paint showed their age. The sea wall alongside both banks was predominantly of a corrugated iron make-up with deterioration aplenty. Large scaly bolts protruding from the sides; nuts and washers no longer doing the job of holding anything, as their supposed adjoining steel cross members were rotted or missing sections, twisted and bent. Small inlets from some unknown storm drain (or worse) trickled water into the main flow of the river. A Milwaukee Metropolitan Sewerage District (MMSD) barge worked its way up and down the center channel with hard-hatted, hi-vis vest wearing workers tending to something obviously important as they scurried fore and aft along their specially outfitted rig.

The Milwaukee Metropolitan Sewerage District has been working to clean the Milwaukee River since 2007 and recently replaced its River Skimmer. The new $387,200 (larger) River Skimmer boat (Aquarius Systems division of D & D Products Inc. of North Prairie), skims garbage from the surface of Milwaukee's rivers and harbor near downtown. In 2010, the skimmer removed 1,683 cubic yards of debris, plus 38 tree trunks. It cruises the inner harbor, the Milwaukee River upstream to the Humboldt Ave. Bridge, the Menomonee River upstream to S. 13th St., the Burnham Shipping Canal off the Menomonee, and the Kinnickinnic River upstream to Lincoln Ave.

While the endeavor is certainly worthwhile, it appeared to me (the novice) that simply driving the thing back and forth (dead center) on the river (that particular Saturday) was doing nothing to really grab the trash. It (the garbage) was all collecting against the sides of the channel, and there was particularly dense floating debris lining in the wide expanse near the Hoan Bridge. It was impressive however with those men scrambling around the deck, but picking up trash? I’m not so sure. One particular place on a concrete river wall had two large inlet pipes, one of which was blowing thousands of gallons of water into the river. There was a happy and whimsical painting of a curly-Q waterslide depicted on the wall at the outlet, perhaps to make the sight more appealing and less questionable. A saying on the wall read: A Clean River is a Fun River.

As we drifted under one downtown Milwaukee bridge to another I could not help but remark out loud, “This is just so cool!” All my Milwaukee life I had wanted to something similar and now we were actually doing it. No super-expensive boating equipment was needed; just something seaworthy, a little pre-planning, some carrying muscle, and a good attitude. Nicely dressed small groups of people hanging out on the Riverwalk that morning looked down at our small craft and smiled; we waved back and kept on drifting and steering on course. Swallows (Barn, Cliff, and Rough-winged) were becoming more plentiful now and the occasional bank-side Herring gull stood watch on brilliant orange webbed-feet as we passed.

The outflow of the MMSD combined sewer (emergency dump) sites were clearly marked as such, along with a prudent warning about drinking the water in that area. I wouldn’t go swimming or even dip a hand into the water in those areas without some way to sanitize, however it was water and it was wet, and it was fun. We’d rounded a bend near Saint Paul Avenue and under the bridge when a public dock came into view. We were getting a bit hungry and decided to pull alongside and tie off. Before we knew it we were comfortably ensconced at a riverside table belonging to the Milwaukee Ale House, ordering one of their fine craft brews. A pair of adorable elderly ladies was seated quite close to us and began to engage me in conversation as we sipped our beer. Before we knew it we had discovered their names and the fact that they were both artists. By the time each of our “Wisconsin Brat” meals had been eagerly consumed, and immensely enjoyed; they wanted to adopt the both of us. Promising to get in touch, we waved goodbye from the canoe as we passed, and drifted out of sight.

A small detour upstream towards the west, and we had passed by the largest Milwaukee Post Office building, and then the Intermodal (Amtrak and Greyhound) station. I wanted to get near the 6^th Street Bridge, so we went that far before turning around and paddling downstream again. The Harley Davidson Museum building was in sight as well as the Iron Horse Hotel. More Milwaukee Rowing Club craft were in this area in what appeared to be training mode. Dozens of gulls lined the old train bridge underpinnings and pilings. This old brown and rusting hulk was permanently in open (perpendicular) position and someone had even been tending blooming flowers in pots placed on its deteriorating skeleton. Riverfront Pizzeria was on our left and reminded us that a Metro Milwaukee Optimist Club meeting was coming up. The seafood restaurant at the end of the point (formerly named Riptide) was open and sported the new name of Sail Loft. I don’t think much of that name. Perhaps the food is good, but with a name like that; good luck.

We made final a concerted push to sail through the wide river inlet, along the sea wall. Floating garbage was plentiful and the waves were choppier. I told Barbara that I wanted to go out into the big water, around the bend towards Lakeshore State Park. That proved a tiny bit dicier than I figured as the waves from passing boats, and the natural Lake Michigan movement threatened to cause us some grief. We basically arrived at my chosen landmark, took a picture; staying low in the canoe, and worked our way back into the channel as fast as we could. We both figured our luck to date had been good; so why chance it. The next stop was the Bruce Street take-out.

With a final stroke, the canoe went nose-first onto the gravel bottom next to the concrete boat launch. Barbara got out and pulled me the next little bit up onto dry land. I walked the three blocks to where the IBIRD was parked and (Ta-Da!) had the key with me. I drove back and pulled to the side of the generous parking area to load up the Canoe-dle. A middle aged County Parks attendant got up from his aluminum lawn chair and approached us, clipboard in hand. I was in the middle of hoisting the long boat onto the top of the vehicle. He walked slowly around to the front of my truck and began studying my license plate. I stopped fiddling with the tie-down straps and approached him asking, “Do we owe you something?” He straightened up, pulling the clipboard to his chest and replied, “Oh yeah you do…you launched here didn’t you?” I replied that we had not in fact launched there and that all we were doing was taking the boat out. He looked suspiciously at me and asked, “Where?”

Did you ever notice that even when you are totally in the right, and have a plausible explanation to relay, that circumstances sometimes cause your tongue to get tied and your delivery to become woefully weak? Well, for some reason (for me) telling the God’s honest truth can sound like I’m trying to hide something. Like the time my Dad, brother and I had just spent a long week in Canada fishing and were about to hit the customs waypoint back into the United States. I was driving the vehicle and pulled up to the first window where the customs agent was to ask me a series of questions related to my whereabouts and intentions. There could (and are on occasion) also be a full-blown, “Get out of the vehicle and get inside that holding pen while we totally dismantle the car down to the frame, while we look for contraband including too many Walleye fillets!” All I needed to do was to stay cool and tell the truth. We had no contraband, or too many Walleye fillets after all; we were Boy freaking scouts when it came to taking chances.

I rolled down the window and said, a timid “Hi.” The responding, hat-wearing official’s one-word reply was, “Country?” I blanked. Country…what the hell is “country”? At the risk of becoming unreasonably chatty, I asked for more clarification with a small, “country”? of my own. He said, “Which one”? All of a sudden t came to me…he wanted to know which country I was from! Now, knowing what he wanted is one thing and being able to utter the words, “the United States” is quite another. About the only thing I could think to do was to point in the direction the car was heading and emphatically state, “That one!” I sat there like a deer in the headlights saying nothing, convinced I was about to be forcefully evacuated along with my open-mouthed father and brother. Fate smiled on me as the official laughed and threw a couple more softball questions in my direction, and off we went into the good ‘ol USA once more. To this day I’ll never know what the man thought of that exchange; however I’m leaning more towards being too stupid to lie to him, as my ultimate saving grace.

Back to the Parks attendant’s question of “Where” (had we launched from?). My mind went blank as usual and I started to gesture with my hands in the direction of the Rowing club, miles up the river while saying “Commerce Street.” I threw in an equally unconvincing “Milwaukee Rowing Club, you know, over there by the brewery?” The man stood there for a minute and looked at me. Barbara came to my rescue with solid competent-sounding reiteration of my ravings and the man just finally, mercifully, walked away, saying nothing further. Whew, that was close! I had almost turned a solid truthful story into something that sounded like premeditated subterfuge (again!). I was breathing easier and thanking my luck, when I noticed and heard Barbara following the guy back to his lawn chair asking him questions. I heard something to the effect of, “…when was he (the man) supposed to be on duty this morning, because how could a person be expected to pay for a launch when the only pay envelopes were (in fact) locked in the unattended booth?” I blanched and pleaded with my eyes for her to leave well enough alone. She looked back at me and (thankfully) did, walking over to help me finish loading.

Know that I can’t (nor won’t) ever blame her for having my back 100%. On the contrary, it’s one of her most amazing qualities and one that any man would give his right arm to be the recipient of…however, discretion is quite often the better part of valor, and why snatch defeat from the jaws of victory? I thanked her for her undying support, love and vehement protection of the logical and drove back to Commerce Street’s Rowing Club to fetch the Mercury. It was getting really hot outside and I was thirsty…ready for an air-conditioned nap and so was she.

What a GREAT (Milwaukee River) DAY!

Canoe-Birding the Mighty Milwaukee River (Part One)

2011-07-31T22:10:00.000-05:00

♫ ♪ Ol' man river, dat ol' man river he mus' know sumpin', but don't say nuthin', he jes' keeps rollin’, he keeps on rollin' along. ♫ ♪♪

The Milwaukee River begins in the Kettle Moraine State Forest Fond du Lac County, with the most recognizable “starting point” flowing south out of Long Lake near the tiny village of Dundee, WI. It rolls south past Grafton to into downtown Milwaukee, where it finally empties into Lake Michiganbeneath the yellow arch of the Daniel Hoan bridge. Cedar Creek, the Menomonee Riverand the Kinnickinnic River are its three main tributaries, fueling its motion towards the big lake. There are 31 automobile and four train bridges over its Milwaukee county run alone. Several inviting parks line the banks of the Milwaukee River. These include Estabrook, Gordon, Kern, Lincoln, Pere Marquette, Pleasant Valley, and Riverside Parks in Milwaukee, Kletzsch Park in Glendale and Hubbard Park in Shorewood.

In an effort to connect the natural current of the Milwaukee River with a current of business and leisure activities, the City of Milwaukee launched the RiverWalk Initiative in 1988. The City and Business Improvement District (BID) together share the price tag of RiverWalk construction and other RiverWalk capital expenditures in accordance with the terms of a Development Agreement. Property owners with a RiverWalk constructed on their river frontage are solely responsible for maintaining such riverwalks to a standard acceptable to the City and the BID. In September of 2009 the Milwaukee River was named to be one of “10 great places to stream through cities”. According to Kit Cramer for USA TODAY, the Milwaukee River is on her list of “great places to take a boat ride.”

With all those worthy reasons to enjoy the Milwaukee River in mind, plus the possibility to see some birds while traveling the waterway; Barbara and I decided put the Canoe-dle to “play.” Utilizing the wonderful and comprehensive map created by the Milwaukee Riverkeepers, I chose a likely non-threatening place to “put-in” at Kletzsch Park, just below the bucolic waterfall. A persistent angler was working the eddy below the churning white water with a fly-fishing rig as watchful Canada geese lingered nearby. We nimbly carried our aluminum steed from our street-parked vehicle from the nearby (parallel oriented) Milwaukee River Parkway, down a gentle gravel embankment and scuffed it into the water; ready for our trip down river. We each took turns carefully getting in, becoming situated, and eventually shoved off; scraping plenty of rocks as we eased into slightly deeper water.

The 3.5 mile journey downriver was quite pleasant. The Milwaukee’s current, was more than enough to maintain forward momentum with only general course corrections necessary. The temperature was around 75 degrees at 9:30 AM and the sun was beating down through a mixture of clouds and clear sky. Private residences dotted the shoreline on each side, however not tightly packed together. It seemed as though those who were either fortunate or intelligent enough to initially locate their dwellings along this rather quiet stretch of urban river, had decided to stay the course and maintain occupancy, if not to actually have established a permanent dock or mooring. There were few actual piers or launch areas to be seen amongst the thick undergrowth that lined the riverbanks, let alone any actual watercraft. Smallish tributaries, (akin to neighborhood drainage causeways) joined with the main body of water as we drifted along the main river channel. Concrete storm water outlets pierced the embankments at various intervals; trickling a few gallons per minute into the flow, from some unknown runoff source, and the traffic noise was nearly nonexistent.

Mighty Beltedkingfishers, and four different kinds of swallows (Barn, Tree, Cliff and Rough-winged) were the birds of the majority, as well as the occasional Northern cardinal, American robin, American goldfinch, Mallard, Canada goose, Several sandpiper varieties (Solitary, Least, and Spotted), Dunlin, Yellow warbler, Eastern kingbird, Blue jay, and American crow. Binoculars were welcome equipment, however nearly unnecessary due to the close-quarters sightings. One backwater area we canoed into was literally "swimming" with large carp in very shallow and muddy water. We paddled upstream in this channel until we almost ran aground; rough fish zipping this way and that to avoid the hull riding over their scaly backs, clouds of brown muck in their wakes.

Human beings were few and far between on our journey; mostly seen at overpasses as they stood to look out and downward at the glistening river. The color of the water was decidedly brown and murky, however lacking any objectionable odors. Painted turtles could be seen sunning themselves on the occasional shoreline-captured log; slipping quietly into the cool wetness as we passed too near their comfort zones. Slight sprinkles kicked up from passing rain-fattened clouds, but nothing steady developed. The shade actually brought small amounts of fleeting relief to the sun-baked reflective aluminum. I called out each bridge (street) name to Barbara as we slipped underneath them; watching the swallows darting to and fro catching the plentiful water striders from the rusty surface of the river.

The gentle and relaxing trip took about two and one-half hours from put-in to take-out, just ahead of the Estabrook Park Dam. The Estabrook Dam was put into service in 1937 to elevate water levels in the Lincoln Park area after a prior project to blast bedrock from the bed of the river to minimize flooding drastically reduced water levels. The Dam creates an impoundment or small lake behind it that has been loved by local residents, and used by both motorized and non-motorized users alike as a recreational area. Unfortunately, the Estabrook Dam has been on a long decline in the past several decades, and Milwaukee County has not addressed several outstanding maintenance and repair requirements per State Dam Safety regulations. It is currently the subject of much debate and argument as to whether it should or must be saved from dismantlement. Total costs to keep/repair/renovate the dam include $4.8 Million to $6.3 Million depending on amount of sediment removed. Environmental opponents argue that removing the dam would yield the greatest positive impacts on river ecology, flood management, water quality, sediment management, fish and aquatic life, terrestrial wildlife, and recreation. They further argue that dam removal will help restore the natural and wild aspect of the Milwaukee River for current and future generations. Additionally, they maintain that the ecological health created by a free flowing river offers greater long term value than maintaining the present lake behind the dam.

Before we became entangled in the upstream portion of the decrepit concrete structure, we landed on shore at the designated (signed) spot. Either that or the sign that clearly stated "Canoe Take-Out" was for fast food pick-up intended for canoeists only. We reversed the process on board the Canoe-dle in order to set foot on dry land. The temperature was now over 90 degrees and it was time to carry the canoe to the previously spotted second vehicle. You see, if you intend to have a splendid and relaxing time going down river, not intending to paddle (and perhaps fight) your way back against the natural flow; you need to plan ahead. We had done so before driving the canoe to its launch site, however one critical step had been overlooked; I had left my set of keys three and one-half miles upriver in the other vehicle! Well, as my father had sagely told me time and again (in what should have been my formative youth); “what you don’t have in your head, you gotta’ have in your feet,” off I embarrassingly went with the awesome Usinger’s liver sausage sandwich and can of sparkling water (intended as a post-trip picnic) in hand, to walk the distance as my self-imposed penance for being stupid.

Forty weary minutes later, after passing far too many bone-chilling, union-backed Sandy Pasch for 8th District senate lawn signs (I much prefer the duly-elected Alberta Darling myself) and going through my water supply faster than my perspiration was running; I arrived at the car. I cursed my decision to wear less than adequate footwear not truly fit for schlepping my sweaty body, however the Mercury Mountaineer's AC controls set to sub-zero quickly took the sting out of my shame and frame. I texted Barbara that I would be driving back to her shortly, and pulled away from the curb chuckling to myself, while my wracked brain mercifully decided to give my (second-guessing) subconscious a rest - No sense ruining my own glorious day. Loading up went quick and Barbara was all too gracious in excusing my truck keyless faux pas. I thanked her for a fantastic time and promised that “next time” the keys would ride down river with me.

Rivers are always changing with constantly flowing, moving water. Spring (melt-away) snows remodel their slumbering wintry banks, recovering their jutting bottom rocks with off times explosive seasonal rebirth. Renewing rains freshen and refill the waterways like welcoming breaths of oxygenated vigor. Rivers turn and twist; meandering a bit here and there, but always with a purpose…rivers unlike lakes; go places. Similarly, I turn, I twist, I meander with purpose (mostly)…I love going places (sometimes even without the proper equipment). I guess rivers and I have a lot in common. Plus…there’s always the mutual communion of “canoe-birding”…and anything combined with birds is always a winner in my book.

Part Two – Goin’Downtown…stay tuned.

Birding the Bong

2011-07-16T17:46:00.000-05:00

Camping at BONG

The Richard Bong State Recreation Area once designated to become a jet fighter base beginning December 1, 1955, is named after Major Richard Ira Bong, a Poplar, Wisconsin, native, born on September 24, 1920, the son of a Swedish immigrant, was America's leading air ace during World War II, flying in his P-38 Lightning in combat, downing an impressive 40 enemy planes. On August 6, 1945, while half a world away the Enola Gay dropped the bomb on Hiroshima; Bong stepped into an airplane for the last time. His Lockheed P-80 Shooting Star malfunctioned just after take-off, and while he bailed out, he never had a chance. He was just too close to the ground. After surviving two years of combat flying, Richard Ira Bong met his end while on a routine acceptance flight. Richard Bong's decorations included the Medal of Honor, the Distinguished Service Cross, the Silver Star (with 1 OLC), the Distinguished Flying Cross (with 6 OLC's), the Air Medal (with 14 OLC's), and many other American and foreign medals.

The decision to close the unfinished base was due to the realization that the B-58 Hustler could be accommodated at other bases through the elimination of B-47 Stratojet units ahead of schedule. Bong Air Force Base was declared excess on August 23, 1960. The fighter base project was abandoned three days before concrete was to be poured for a 12,500-foot runway. Secretary of the Air Force James H. Douglas, Jr. later explained the decision to close Bong by saying: "Finally we realized that by 1961-62 when Bong would be ready, we would have several other medium bomber bases empty of squadrons & we really don't need Bong." Thus Bong AFB was abandoned before ever being completed.

Local citizens had the foresight to protect this open space for future generations and in 1974 the State of Wisconsin bought the land making it the state's first recreation area. The recreation area encompasses 4,515 acres of rolling grassland, savanna, wetlands and scattered woodland.

While Bong offers a myriad of recreational uses from camping to model rocketry; bird-watching was the primary reason Barbara and I chose it, to spend our 4th of July weekend. With bicycles and canoe along; we scoured and explored a great portion of the area around the Sunrise Campgrounds which are not surprisingly on the east side of the recreation area. Sandhill cranes browsed amongst the tall grasses next to the model airplane enthusiasts. One of the more curious finds was a Great egret, on the very farthest reaches of its northernmost range, wading through the tall reeds and an equally surprising nesting pair of Common moorhens with young, hiding in a shrub near the lake.

The July sun was extremely hot and the cicadas were singing loudly, however there were few mosquitoes to interrupt the overall outdoor enjoyment. Peddling along on two wheels was by far the best way (besides driving a vehicle with the AC on full blast) to keep cool, so that’s what we mostly did. The recreation area is dotted with small bodies of pond water and one larger “lake” now called Vern Wolf Lake. “East Lake” (created when an irrigation ditch was dammed in the 1960s) features two deep 18’ holes in the lake bottom which are remnants from the Air Force Base construction. They were apparently trying to reach bedrock to support a refueling station. “East Lake” was formally dedicated on August 12th, 1995, and renamed to honor Vern J. Wolf, one of the original volunteers at Richard Bong State Recreation Area. He was a longtime Burlington resident, a journalist, poet and teacher.

We had our canoe along (The "Canoe-dle"), a well-worn, battle-hardened, 17' aluminum Grumman which was gifted to us from Barbara's parents; Robert and Joanne Bart. Together we cast off on it's maiden voyage (as our mutual possession) into Vern Wolf and paddled along for over two hours looking into every tiny inlet for something interesting. We saw a multitude of Red-winged blackbirds and heard many other Marsh and House wrens along the shores. Painted turtles sitting in the sunshine atop mostly-submerged logs, slipped into the water as we passed them by, and the sounds of children laughing from within the beach area, wafted out across the water. Native plants and grasses; each emitting their signature smells, accompanied us as we stroked and sculled our craft.

Our two bicycles proved to be our transportation mode of choice within the park to traverse from birding area to birding area, however a 5.5 mile hike was also included in our weekend's activities. There are many, many miles of well-groomed trails within the park. Mown grass constitutes the majority of the multi-use ones so the ground is mostly level. Each trail offers a variety of scenery from woods to prairie and lakes to marshland. A graceful pair of Mute swans could be seen in a quiet, out of the way emerald-green pond adjacent to a nearby private golf course. Yellow and Common yellow-throat warblers were also seen in abundance, as well as the sounds of the Great-crested and Alder flycatchers. Canada geese, Great blue heron, Turkey vulture and American crow showed their presence along the trail as we slowly walked and looked.

An older guy passed by us a few miles into the wilderness, jogging in the opposite direction in the 90 degree heat, with no visible water along to hydrate himself. We wondered aloud as to his sanity. Later it came into question with clarity when we encountered him again running up and and down a set of railroad tie steps. "I come out here to train for a stair climb", the man breathlessly said. "Ohhhh...great!" was our reply as we shook our heads in utter amazement, and walked on. Barbara remarked, "I guess there are no other stairs anywhere to practice on". I laughed.

A stalwart and predictable American robin visited a certain evergreen in our campsite each dawn and dusk to sing his robin song at the top of his tiny lungs, and a pair of friendly 13-lined ground squirrels trundled over the grasses in and out of their hole, perilously close to our lit fire pit. Bull frogs thunder-croaked and lightning bugs cheerily lit the early evening skies with their iridescent glowing bodies. The smell of wood smoke and hot forest drifted to our noses while we sipped cold beer in our red Walmart folding camp chairs; an small electric fan clamped to the tent creating the only feeble breeze. This was pure 100% America on the eve of it's birthday, and I was damn glad to have been born in it.

Sources:
Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources
Stephen Sherman, June, 1999. Updated June 28, 2011.
The Bong Naturalist Association

Meat on a stick anyone?

Starfish (moments)

2011-05-20T23:16:00.000-05:00

Every day an old man walked on the beach picking up starfish that had been washed ashore by the tide and he threw them back into the sea.

One day a young boy stopped the old man and asked," Mister, why do you throw the starfish back into the sea?"

The old man answered," Because they will die in the hot sun if left here stranded on the beach."

“But sir, there are so many and the beach goes on for miles. You can`t possibly make a difference."

The old man slowly bent over once more, picked up another starfish and threw it back into the sea and replied, "IT MADE A HUGE DIFFERENCE FOR THAT ONE."

Perhaps you have heard this story and even had your own “starfish” moments. Times when you did something which others might think pointless or unimportant in the grand scheme, but you did it anyway. I had one recently which I’d like to tell you about because it just felt good.

Barbara and I were birding along a posted (no trespassing) Department of Transpiration Mitigation Pond area. Guilty hint: As any honest birder will tell you; the posted areas always have the best bird watching. The glimmering water was alive with an amazing variety of bird species, mostly protected from the view of speeding cars on the roadway. A small drainage creek also ran perpendicular to the roadway next to the pond and under the two wide lanes of traffic. After carefully dodging multiple cars zooming along the road from the small strip-mall parking lot to the grass near the pond, a quick glance toward the creek provided a glimpse of a pair of large water birds with a small “baby” bird paddling along behind. The trio had emerged from one of the twin culverts, did a quick u-turn and swam back into the other shaft. “Awww…wasn’t that precious?” I asked as the birds disappeared into the darkness under the road.

We had not walked another ten feet up stream of the creek when I heard noises and saw three other of these same large wading birds (I later identified them as Limpkins) standing at the edge of the creek in a muddy, stagnant and mossy trapped area of water. The “leader” of the group looked up from the water and at the two of us. (I later reflected that the look on the lead bird’s face was one of guilt, but more on that later). I grabbed the camera around my neck and began snapping images of these large animals when suddenly; the leader looked back into the water and began repeatedly stabbing its long bill downward. I admit at times I am not too swift, however I immediately understood what the lead Limpkin was doing…it was pounding on a tiny fluffy figure that was chirping and twirling in the shallow water. The damn bully limpkin was trying to KILL the baby bird.

The Evil Limpkins

While Barbara has heard my speech about nature and my belief in the circle of life, and all – I acted swiftly, surprisingly (and perhaps) uncharacteristically. Chasing away the “evil” Limpkins, I scooted down as far down the muddy creek-side as possible and scooped the struggling wee one from its soon to be watery grave. While doing that I also noticed that the band of marauders had already killed another baby as it was floating near the still alive chick. I removed that one too and gently placed it on the ground near the bank. I thought that perhaps this seemingly senseless death might provide some sustenance for some other carrion eating creature, so I left it sadly there. Now what to do with the survivor?

“Oh great, we’re not even supposed to be prowling around this Mitigation area, we’re from out of town, and we have a baby (something) to take care of!” I frustratedly said. I brushed off some of the creek slime and walked to where we had previously seen the swimming family. It seemed as though that this damaged baby bird closely resembled the other one that had trailed the two parent birds; could they all be Limpkins? That realization quickly made me glad with my decision to assist in the backwater mauling and assassination attempt as I could not understand why a bird of the same species would kill one of its young (let alone TWO of its young) unless there was something kinda’ funky going on. Anthropomorphically speaking (and that’s the best any of us can do, cause none of us actually speak or understand “animal” – and don’t let anyone on YouTube know this, but it’s true) it looked like there was some serious evil Limpkin-esque jealousy going on…kinda’ a “since I couldn’t have any babies neither will YOU!” Hell I don’t know…I just know that baby Limpkins are NOT on the traditional menu of fellow Limpkins next to the Apple Snail salad.

Limpkins with Apple Snails

I bent over the creek near the culvert and gently flipped the baby into the cleaner water hoping it would (I’m not sure) swim somewhere safer than where it had gotten itself previously marooned into. Mistake. Apparently the small figure twisting in the water – basically drowning – was not ready to be swimming. Crap! “I have to get it back out!” I yelled as Barbara ran for something, anything. “I found a stick!” she exclaimed and grabbed it, bringing it back to me. I awkwardly fished the water-logged bird out and back where I could reach it with a sigh. “Now what!?” I said. Thinking for a moment, I settled for a shaded Cyprus tree trunk with several crinkles along its base nearer the pond. “Well, that didn’t work too well now did it?” I admitted. “Let’s leave the little guy there for now and go see some more of the bird life around here. Maybe it will be OK there,” I convinced myself as I walked away listening to it pitifully peeping.

Black-bellied whistling ducks!

There were some pretty amazing birds ahead of us on the actual pond including two pairs of a new life birds, Black-bellied whistling ducks! They have pinkish-orange bills and are quite stunning. We also saw White Ibis, Tri-colored Heron, Morph Mallards, Little blue Heron, Great blue Heron, Snowy Egret, and Great Egret on our short trip up and back. We eventually arrived back at the spot where I had set the little baby Limpkin and noticed that the band of evil Limpkins were advancing on the still peeping bird. The bird had somehow waddle-limped its way partly up the small embankment as we reached it. "I have an idea" I said to Barbara and scooped up the fluff-ball with big feet, Shielding the hatchling against my body, I approached the busy roadway to wait out the strings of traffic, trying to look nonchalant as I stood there ready to bolt across the pavement.

Birdstud with a baby Limpkin

When the traffic lightened enough to scoot, we did. I explained to Barbara that I had hopes that the small "family" we had seen earlier might be on the other side of the roadway, having swam all the way across under the roadway. As we crested the shoulder and could look into the creek, our hearts soared with anticipation when we saw the three birds swimming happily on that side of the road. Without any fanfare, I quickly deposited the small Limpkin on the near shoreline and backed away. It did a few somersaults and landed in the water and began peeping loudly. Dare we hope that the other birds would embrace our offering?

We held our breath and only had to wait about 20 seconds before we knew the answer: the Limpkin family quickly swam over from the far bank to check out the small, peeping brown paddler. Barbara and I looked at each other and I could see a tear in her eyes as she clapped her hands with joy. It looked like the Limpkin parents would accept the new charge without exception. Who knows? The injured baby (and recently killed sibling) may have even been theirs only an hour before an unfortunate separation. Regardless, the two of us stood watching the scene as the four made their way to the other side of the creek once more.

Tense Limpkin moment

There was a tense moment as the still struggling baby could not force its way through some of the thicker muck and looked extremely weak and tired. As we watched and waited, amazingly both parent Limpkin waded back out and used their breast to punch a trail for the baby to more easily traverse! It was going to be fine! We turned and slowly walked to the car feeling like we had done something important but would never know the whole truth. About the only thing we both knew for sure, was that our actions had made a HUGE difference to that baby Limpkin, and we felt good.

Watch the crows...

2011-05-02T22:57:00.000-05:00

Spring birding in southeastern Wisconsin is truly wonderful! Leaves are a few more weeks ahead of completely blocking your line of sight, and the cooler temperatures keep hungry mosquitoes from hatching. On windless days not a twig is moving and so the only thing that does are what you are searching for. Animals of all sizes and varieties are shaking off the grip of a long winter piled with deep snow. Bird watchers all over the country are venturing out each morning and afternoon; walking their tried and trusted pathways in search of early visitors. Careful notes are jotted and shared with the like-minded. FOY (First of Year) sightings delight the hearts and minds of the faithful, while being dutifully compared to previous annual observations. Dates and temperatures are frequently noted along with time, place and total counts. Seemingly meaningless data in the grand scheme of things, however to the avowed birder – the clock by which they set their watch.

In the uplifting words of poet Emily Dickinson; these are the days when “hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.” What word more appropriately embodies the promise of better things to come after the many long, cold, and gray days, than “hope”? Bird watchers and nature enthusiasts as well venture out again and again with bucketfuls of hope listening intently for all manner of tunes without words. Songs that just last fall were on the tips of our brains sound as brand new when first again heard each year. The subtle differences between the of a straggling Dark-eyed junco and a newly arrived Yellow-rumped warbler need time to soak in after months of dormancy. Yes, springtime…ahh…wonderful springtime!

Dr. Paul Hunter, Associate Medical Director, City of Milwaukee Health Department and avid birding enthusiast recently gave a well-attended talk within a community center at Lake Park. The subject which drew a room full of eager listeners was not about the impending convergence of migrating warblers; but instead was dedicated to a more commonplace and ordinary bird species – the American crow. Paul’s seminar (complete with PowerPoint slides) discussed the nuances of crow vocalizations and their brush with endangered status due to the 2004 West Nile Virus – a mosquito born danger, especially to these birds, and their come-back over the past seven years. One salient point that my friend Barbara and I picked up was something that neither of us had known; that crows and Great-horned owls despise each other. I am certain that some of the more seasoned watchers attending the talk knew this factoid and had used it to their advantage – however it was not in my personal arsenal of great outdoor tricks of the trade.

Apparently Great-horned owls love to kill and eat crows, and conversely (who knew?) crows do not love to be killed and/or eaten. Paul regaled the group with a few crow VS owl anecdotes and followed up with the coup de grace; “if you want to find a Great-horned owl – watch the crows.” Good advise I thought and tucked that nugget into my brain for another day. Who could have figured that “another day” would be about 2 weeks later while birding at Havenwoods (a Wisconsin State Forest that resides uniquely and entirely within the Milwaukee city-limits). Barbara and I were just about to head down the hillside towards the small drainage creek that runs north/south through the western 1/3 of the forest when a raucous noise was heard to the east. “Crows!” I announced and added, “Remember what Paul told us about those sounds and Great-horned owls?” Before you know it, we had turned around covering the 500 or so feet of distance and had stationed ourselves just into binocular range to watch. Around 75 feet ahead and up in the trees were about two-dozen large black birds making about as much noise as possible, while flying nervously back and forth between trees. About that same time, I noticed a large red-brown coyote scurry into the woods just to my right, and called out to Barbara regarding my sighting – Barbara just LOVES coyotes while birding…NOT!

We watched for about ten minutes (with one eye warily on the spot where the coyote had disappeared) and could not detect what the crow disturbance was all about. Little by little the small murder moved southward and all noise soon subsided into the distance. Barbara and I walked slowly in that same general direction but not with any real idea of interception – we just kept on birding as we moved along. We soon found ourselves walking along a grassy path through a more mature stand of deciduous trees. The crows had definitely pushed onward and southward as I could follow the sounds as they faded and faded when off to my left, a very large silent shape caught my eye as it moved from the ground and into the canopy of leaf-less branches. “There!” I cried to Barbara and pointed to my left as I watched the shape moving south and up into some large trees in the distance. Neither of us could actually see where the shape had alighted, but we were certain that it was up in the distance somewhere.

The woods on both sides of the path were eerily quiet as we slowly crept towards the area of the trees we thought might secret our feathered quarry. We had gone about 100 feet when a large shape was evident to my eyes up in a large tree. I excitedly whisper-croaked, “There!” as we stopped to train our binoculars onto what turned out to be the object of the crow’s angst, a Great-horned owl! Long binocular-ed looks and multiple images were captured as the both of us stood there in awe of such a magnificent creature in the middle of unlikely Milwaukee woodlands. Son of a Gun! (I thought) – Paul was right…I’ll be darned!

Keep your eyes (and ears) on the crows indeed.

Time for the...Lake Michigan Duck Watch

2011-02-12T17:08:00.000-06:00

The Mallard didn't have any money for the lip balm; so he told his pharmacist to "put it on my bill" - quack!

Milwaukee, Wisconsin in February

What else is there to do on a cold (but warming slightly) Milwaukee, Wisconsin weekend right?

Why go and watch the ducks on the lakefront - of course. The only problem with doing so is being able to actually "see" them. To make it happen, you either have to have a HUGE spotting scope and tripod coupled with patience OR I would think a queen-sized bed sheet could do the trick. What I mean is (for the latter idea); dress warmly, carry your binoculars and sneak out to the edge of the ice flow, sit down on a chunk of Styrofoam, drape the sheet (plain white of course) over yourself and wait. Congratulations; you have just successfully camouflaged yourself as a drift. You'll have to "wait" however because all the while you are sneaking, the ducks will have noticed the movement (no matter how stealthy) and have slowly swam farther out to sea en-masse. It'll get damn cold as you wait for the ducks (if they ever do) to decide that whatever dragged itself out on to that far away ice shelf is no longer a threat; mysteriously disappearing into the landscape.

For the purposes of this blog - We (Barbara and I) did neither of the aforementioned. We simply walked out - scared the ducks whipped out the binos for a quick peek and also took some long range images with the digital camera. We did see a few of the Lake Park Birders standing about a 1/4 mile away on shore (in a little knot) for about 15 minutes before they apparently got tired of their extremely long-distance vantage point and left. The surrounding ice-scape was quite spectacular in and of itself. The waves of the big lake coupled withe the recent high winds had created these amazingly round ice globes in various sizes from an orange to a beach ball. Walking amongst them created quite a challenge. The threat level of slipping and twisting an ankle or bruising something important was high but well worth the journey.

Common goldeneyes, Hooded mergansers, Lesser scaups were numerous and quietly active. Even a sole pair of Mallards drifted by the iceberg we stood upon. Ducks, ducks and more ducks dotted the light blue waterscape mixed in with floating chunks of frozen H2O. Turning around, the city of Milwaukee glistened in the far off background as the sound of icy waters sloughed at the edges of the new Winter-created glacial shoreline. Cars could be seen whisking their occupants north and south on Lakeshore Drive along with the occasional spandex-clad jogger - ponytail whipping like a pendulum clock. February marches on and the citizens of Milwaukee marched too.

To experience such natural frigid beauty; one must purposely decide to leave the snugly confines of their artificially heated dwellings in order to bask in the genuine warmth of the sun. It's tough fellow Midwesterners I know...but so worth the effort; bed sheet or not...just always remember your binoculars.

By the way...how DOES one get down off a duck?

Lesser scaups flying in formation

Got time for a peaceful moment? - Watch the gentle wave-action...

Ducks!

BIG Ice

GBPs and the GBBC - Here We Go!

2011-01-24T11:38:00.000-06:00

The similarities are uncanny

Hey everyone – the Green Bay Packers are playing in the SUPERBOWL this year!

That is fantastic news for the countless Packer fans across the world…finally a reason to watch the darn thing. Not since the ‘96 season where they beat the Patriots and the disappointing ‘97 appearance where John Elway was allowed to actually matter (in a loss) have the GB Packers been to the Big Dance. They will play the Pittsburg Steelers in Dallas for ultimate bragging rights to the 2010 season.

For the next two weeks (until kickoff) GB “fans” of all ages and levels of football knowledge will be pontificating and opining right along with the “experts” citing all sorts of data, statistics, trends, observations, and personal conjecture – all for the purposes of establishing their own preponderance of credibility amongst their peers. Learned professionals alongside with the average novice can equally contribute to the discussion and help to provide insight. Because it’s a “game” and until it’s played, no person’s input is more accurate than the next.

While that’s all well and good from a purely entertainment aspect why not also be a GB fan in another area that truly matters? What if I told you about a similar arena of knowledge that includes both the casual observer and the wizened veteran? How you ask? Well…do you feed birds in your backyard? Do you feed birds in your side or front yard? If so, you are a highly sought after citizen scientist and the GBBC wants YOU! (...and it’s a few weekends after the Super Bowl too – so no conflicts!)

Here’s the goal for this team: The Great Backyard Bird Count (GBBC) is an annual four-day event that recruits bird watchers of all ages in counting their very own backyard birds to assist in creating an up to date (annual) accounting of just where the birds are across North America. Anyone can help; from beginning bird watchers to experts. A counting bird watcher can spend as few as 15 minutes on one day, or can count for as long as desired each day of the event. There’s no cost, it is enjoyable and the information collected and submitted is quite valuable—plus it can even help the birds.

This year’s 2011 GBBC will take place Friday, February 18, through Monday, February 21.

The Great Backyard Bird Count is led by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology and National Audubon Society, with Canadian partner Bird Studies Canada and sponsorship from Wild Birds Unlimited.

HERE’s the Internet site to get you hooked up with all you’ll need to REPORT your findings. I’ll be doing it and I hope you will be too. It’s a Kick!

So, enjoy the GB Packers Super Bowl victory over the vaunted Steelers (on February 6th, 2011) and then enjoy counting your GB-Birds and pay special attention to the green and gold ones...they’ll be the ones touching down on the field with the Lombardi trophy.

Go Pack Go – (and Go Count!)

(...oh and one more thing: ...the BEARS STILL SUCK...) - Rodgers that!

2010 CBC - Counting Birds is FUN!

2010-12-18T20:06:00.000-06:00

Here it is December again...time to see how many birds there are in Area 20...

The Schlitz Audubon Compiler for the southeastern Wisconsin area established Saturday - December 18th, 2010 as the Christmas Bird Count date (CBC) for 2010. The CBC is rich with history and tradition. Not wanting to be left out of the count for this year; I signed up for Area 20 in the WIMI circle. This would be the 111th version of the annual count. The Milwaukee Circle was coordinated (compiled) again this year by Andrea Szymczak.

The “bird-brained” participants are to "count" the total amount of each species (they are sure of) recorded in their section, to the best of their ability from midnight to midnight. The "official" turn in date for all data is January 5, 2011. Again the WIMI had its "turn-in party" beginning at 4:00 PM at the Schlitz Audubon Center the evening of the count. Barbara and I started the count around 9:15 AM in the 10 degree air. We drove to the Honey Creek Parkway behind Hart Park and walked and walked until the wind chill drove us back to the shelter of the vehicle (and the heater). One of the most interesting facets of this year's count were the plethora of European Starlings and the dearth of American Robins logged.

Barbara and I turned over our count data at around 4:20 and shared a glass of ginger ale; while basking in the afterglow, (and chatting with WIMI faithfuls like Scott Diehl, Marilyn Bontly, Judith Huff, Andrea Szymczak and Jean Frelka) of another successful CBC. If you'd like to join in a count (either the CBC or the upcoming GBBC February 18, 2011); email me at birdstud@birdmilwaukee.com and I'll hook you up. In the meantime...keep watching your feeders cause you never know what you'll see this winter. You could even spy a wayward Red-winged Blackbird in Boulder Junction, WI in 12" of snow! Yes, Virginia...it can (and does) happen.

Here's the count for 2010 (in area 20)

Canada Goose - 23
Rock Pigeon - 12
Mourning Dove - 14
Red-bellied Woodpecker - 2
Downey Woodpecker - 8
Hairy Woodpecker - 2
American Crow - 8
Black-capped Chickadee - 10
White-breasted Nuthatch - 6
American Robin - 1
European Starling - 267
Dark-eyed Junco - 14
Northern Cardinal - 14
House Finch - 22
House Sparrow - 182
American Goldfinch - 32

Have a Merry Christmas and GREAT birding adventures!

In My Real Life...2010 Video File - Discovered!

2010-11-09T14:31:00.000-06:00

Milwaukee Public Schools - Excellence In Education Award Winner...ME

JOSEPH EDWARD DEVEREAUX (AKA - Birdstud)

Maintenance and Repair Supervisor

Division of Facilities and Maintenance Services

Joseph Edward Devereaux has been employed with Milwaukee Public Schools, in the Division of Facilities and Maintenance Services (FMS), for 20 years. Joe started his career at MPS as a Plumber, was promoted in 1994 to Plumber Foreman, and in October 2005, became the first of three maintenance & Repair Supervisors. As a Maintenance & Repair Supervisor, Joe is responsible for supervising and overseeing skilled-trades personnel and outside contractors, works with internal and external stakeholders to refine FMS process and procedures in an ongoing effort to reduce costs and improve service, administers expense budgets, and monitors performance metrics.

Joe brings 25 years of skilled-trade experience and a total-quality-management style of leadership to the team that he supervises. This combination of skill sets and expertise ensures that our district facilities remain safe, clean, and welcoming environments for students and staff.

Joe is a leader at FMS and has volunteered for many assignments above and beyond his normal duties and responsibilities, including coordinator of the MPS blood drive, the Employees’ Combined Giving Campaign, and the UPAF Campaign.

Joe recognized the need and importance of donating blood and personally began his own blood donations at age 39. In 2007, he organized the first blood drive at Facilities and Maintenance. Under his leadership, the number of individuals participating in the annual blood drive has increased by 36%. Joe’s creative flair has contributed to the success of the annual event. Over the years, Joe has invited celebrity volunteer hosts, including local pageant winners, politicians, and celebrities. While this is a serious endeavor, Joe keeps the event fun and entertaining with a new twist or surprise for participants every year.

The Milwaukee Public Schools’ Combined Giving Campaign has been extremely successful, in large part due to the efforts of Joe Devereaux. As a member of the district planning team, he has brought creativity, enthusiasm, and success to the campaign. In addition to his work on the overall yearly planning, Joe serves as a site coordinator for Facilities and Maintenance and regularly achieves one of the highest dollar totals and employee participation levels in the district for his division’s campaign.

Since Joe became the coordinator for Facilities and Maintenance, contributions have steadily increased, for a combined total contribution of $118,000 in the last nine years. It is important to note that the MPS Combined Giving Campaign is the main source of funding for the MPS Foundation and provides funding to over 200 health and human services agencies throughout the metro-Milwaukee area, many of which provide much needed services to MPS students and their families. Because of Joe’s dedication to the success of the campaign, it has finally met a longtime goal — exceeding the $400,000 mark in 2009-10. Joe’s involvement in the MPS Combined Giving Campaign has had a positive impact on many lives.

Joe became the UPAF Campaign leader in 2009, when he introduced the first FMS silent art auction. The auction was a fun way to highlight the UPAF campaign, promote involvement of FMS employees and FMS business partners, and raise additional funds for the MPS Foundation. This year, Facilities and Maintenance has invited Roosevelt Middle School to be a partner, and the silent art auction will include students’ artwork. The auction, which is open to all district employees, is another example of Joe’s ability toreach out and collaborate with schools, business partners, and individual donors.

The most recent endeavor that Joe has embarked on is creating the first chapter of a Milwaukee Optimist Club. The current focus is to gather MPS individuals for a presentation on how Optimists can naturally partner with youth in the Milwaukee Public Schools. Optimist clubs are currently using the slogan “Bringing out the best in kids.” Joe accepted the appointment to the Charter Presidency of the Metro Milwaukee Optimist Club. In this role, Joe hopes the Milwaukee Chapter will begin to partner with MPS schools at all levels.

As part of Joe’s commitment to MPS, he has also participated in:

•The MPS School-to-Work program with high-school students interested inthe field of construction;

• Multiple Career Day presentations at MPS elementary, middle, and highschools;

• MPS Math Buddies, which focuses on assisting high-school students in theclassroom;

• National Young Readers Day; and

•The Junior Achievement program for elementary-school students.

Joe’s responsibilities as a Maintenance and Repair Supervisor ensure that the students’ learning environments are safe, clean, well maintained, and conducive to learning. More important, the leadership role that Joe has taken with programs outside of his required duties and responsibilities demonstrate a strong commitment to supporting the district’s mission.

The Milwaukee Board of School Directors and the entire school community recognize Joseph Devereaux for his dedication, outstanding leadership, and commitment to excellence on behalf of the students of the Milwaukee Public Schools.

And...He Watches Birds Too!!

The Birds of an Urban State Park

2010-09-16T21:55:00.000-05:00

Taking a nature break after work, can sooth a troubled mind...but what was the machete' for?

Lakeshore State Park, Milwaukee Wisconsin is a truly beautiful (entirely man made) restful place. I was killing some time before my every other Thursday evening MMOC Optimist meeting when I last parked the WPT for a visit. I was struck by the way that the prairie had established itself since I had been there in the summer of '09. The various raised hills of earth created when the place was conceived were now alive with growth and colorful grasses and native flora of Wisconsin. The pure white limestone rocks that formed the breakwater were positively glowing in the afternoon sun. The temperature was just perfect and the sun abundant on this particular afternoon.

Small groups of immature European starlings hopped and foraged in the grasses along the rocks as I walked. At this stage of their lives, they look a bit like a meadowlark in the mottling of the breast, but lacking any of the color. Ring-billed gulls congregated on the open grassy areas and Mallards and Common mergansers lined the edges of the inland backwaters. Rock doves could also be seen pecking at small piles of aggregate as a young child on a scooter and his mother ambled past my location. Fishermen trying their luck on the calm waters of the lagoon didn't even seem to bother the flotilla of ducks as they cast their rods in hopeful motions.

Several signs are posted along the concrete walkways explaining both the environment and the animal life which are found in the park. You need to look down to find them. There is also an experimental area of grassland management in various stages and an explanation for it as well. I walked on, thinking about how surprisingly peaceful and serene this human-created slice of land really was. The gulls overhead with their plaintive calls and the sail boats dancing on the "big" water added to the romanticism of the experience. I smiled that smile that says both, "I am happy to be alive" and "don't blink or you'll miss capturing the feeling of serenity".

That's about when I spotted the two long sheaths and the torpedo level in the grass. I (of course) prepared to take an image because of the unexpected nature of the collection. I began wondering what the odd juxtaposition of these artifacts had with the environmental offerings of any group of volunteering well-doers and drew a blank. Scooter-Mom watched me with my camera pointed into the ground. I glanced her way and gave a shrug of puzzlement, but clicked the shutter anyway. I don't know what comes over me, but things (all things) interest me on some level; this was no different.

Oh well...I walked on with my question forever unanswered...that's the way life can be sometimes right?

Here's more images to enjoy!

(Remember to click on them to get a larger image)

Looking for a Little Bird

Picture postcard perfect

Say "fiiissshh"!

The Milwaukee Iroquois Tour Boat

Common merganser

The Map and Rules of Lakeshore State Park

Birding Mountain Bike Highway

2010-08-22T19:36:00.000-05:00

Remembering how it makes me smile...

It’s been an unusually hot and humid summer - especially for Milwaukee Wisconsin. Don’t get me wrong…I like the warmth much better than the cold. However, human nature is to complain regardless of the weather. I guess the reason I notice it (and mention it) is my current self-imposed living arrangement. You see, I left my wife of nearly 26 years; the love having all but evaporated like one of those cone-shaped room air fresheners that you have to open up to expose the soft inner core, and moved into an upper half of a house with zero AC. Since the place I’m renting didn’t come with it, and I would have to pay for it…I’m suddenly uber-frugal with my meager stipend. I can also unequivocally attest to you dear reader that heat does indeed rise…I have the sweat-stained tee shirts to prove it. I guess that’s one reason I totally enjoy getting out in the deep woods…the coolness of natural shade.

Even at 8:30 AM on this particular Sunday; the Cicadas were buzzing with gusto as I parked the White Pickup Truck under the westbound bridge of Milwaukee’s Capitol Drive. Why not park the vehicle in the shade I thought, as I gathered up my binoculars, tripod and camera. I knew I’d be away from it for a time and didn’t need to come back to an easy bake oven interior. My goal for today was two-fold; investigate the crumbling and forlorn cemetery plots directly adjacent to the Capitol Drive highway 45 North freeway on ramp, and to walk the trails that lead away into the woods near the ruins. The only convenient access was to park where I did and walk a short distance, so walk I did. Note: The focus of THIS particular blog installment will be the Trails, if you want the “cemetery” segment (because it is more birdy in nature)…look HERE within my NEW "Roads Less Traveled" blog.

The path started just west of the bridge over the Menomonee River Parkway and Capitol Drive. The signs at the trail head hinted that I would have to share parts of the trail with the BRAINDEAD. That's if they followed the little blue man on the bicycle insignias -nailed to the marker posts. I was following the little blue man with the hiking stick markers, and I hoped not to "bump" into anything on two wheels wearing gaudily colored spandex. The mosquitoes were thick and I cursed my decision to leave my camo fanny-pack in the truck. It had my Off wipes in it darn-it! Oh well...slap and move, slap and keep moving.

This particular trail wound its way mostly northward along the west edge of the Menomonee River. The ground was primarily wet and/or damp due to the recent 500-year flooding of July 15th and 22nd. The fact that most of this (lower) area had been far under water was quite evident due to the flotsam and jetsam higher up in the tree branches. Colorful dragonflies, Blackwinged damselflies and Monarch butterflies flew about and the prevailing sound was that of moving water. The sunlight at that time of the morning didn't seem to reach all that far into the heavily leafed-out forest, to add much heat; that was a good thing. Dappled patches of light filtered through to the ground creating shadows on the moist earth. I was listening closely and moving as soundlessly as possible when I heard the familiar sound of the Red-eyed Vireo high in the tree tops. Chickadees and Red-bellied Woodpeckers called back and forth to their kin and I heard the welcome song of the Eastern Wood Pewee in the distance.

A clearing in the tall grasses along the still hidden but heard from highway 45, yielded a pair of Song Sparrows flitting about from tree to tree, visibly upset by something unknown to me. A female American Redstart zipped here and there; its tail fanning and twisting this way and that as it chased insects. I noticed that I must have gotten into some sort of low nettles, as my ankles and shins began and to burn and itch. I was wearing shorts and it is a professional hazard of the hobby I guess. Gray Catbirds and American Robins were the next species I heard as I approached the western most part of my morning walk. The urban "artists" known as taggers had decorated the newer bridge abutments on Hampton Ave. near the intersection of the Oak Leaf Trail.

That looked like a likely place to disengage myself from the tangle of the dense woods and emerge onto some nicely manicured asphalt path. To be honest, I hadn't realized just how far I had traversed until I came out and recognized the road.

I walked back to the WPT on the macadam with slightly soaked shoes and socks, but feeling like I had gotten back on that horse and ridden once again...it felt good to "get lost" for a time, chasing avian folly.

I think I'll go again...soon.

Nature is Where You Find it (Where YOU Are)

2010-08-15T21:46:00.000-05:00

Beauty is all around you...Naturally.

Sorry dear readers of the B-Stud blog (all 8 of you), that I have not written in over two weeks. Big changes in my life have kept me preoccupied...but more on that some other day. This installment is dedicated to getting away for the weekend and what (extras) just may be awaiting you, if you care to notice. If you have read my blog before, you know that I spend a good amount of paragraphs on the subject of keeping your eyes open for nature in the unexpected pleasures that surround each of us every day. My latest example comes from a trip I took to the Minneapolis area to assist my college-age son move (again).

I LOVE Priceline. You'd love it too if you tried it. I mean, where else can a thrifty guy like myself "bid" 40 bucks on a 3-1/2 star luxury hotel and score amazing accommodations that I'd never be able to afford? The answer is; no place. That's the reason I ended up a bit "out of town" while in the Twin Cities area. All I had to do was drive a bit and voila; instant opulence. This place was a two room "suite" with two beds, two TVs, and a (fill and drain) whirlpool tub big enough for a party.

On that note, I must tell you I love irony when I encounter it. Imagine that on your bed there's this trendy little PC sign card that has the header of "SAVE OUR PLANET" and goes on to explain that washing towels in hotels all across the world amounts to millions of gallons of wasted water and if you could possibly see your way clear to NOT having the staff launder your soiled sheets until later, that the world would thank you, blah, blah, blah. Great...feel smugly do-gooder-esque and just fill up and drain that giant whirlpool tub once so you can soak your aching joints...that will save a few gallons of water eh? Ahem...anyway, (he continued) I also had a little coffee maker and a mini-fridge to boot. I felt like a king and enjoyed every minute of the time away from the heat of my sweltering upper apartment...ahhh sweet AC! Anyway, give Priceline a try the next time you need a room and you are not too picky about the locale...you may even get as lucky as I did.

So I parked the WPT (White Pick-up Truck) in the outer lot and zoomed the eight stories up to my personal haven with my overnight gear. The view of the far off Cities was spectacular and even better was the view of the wetlands on the other side of the freeway (94) off-ramp.

That little area piqued my interest right away, but would have to wait until morning; Nelson and I had had a big day and he still needed a ride in to work his shift at Annie's Parlour. That's another place you ought to put in your bucket for someday...their Feature called the "Riverside" is an eating man's meal of hamburger meat-patty and roasted vegetables (onions, mushrooms and green peppers) on wheat bread (open face) with a little pitcher of heavenly mushroom gravy and Annie's signature fries on the side. Don't forget the jaunty, luscious half peach that festoons the loaded platter either - it's all To DIE for! But I digress...ahem...back to the wilderness area on the side of the freeway.

I awoke at 7:30 AM the next day and dressed for the warmth of the outdoors. I gathered my usual accoutrement of paraphernalia (binos, camera, hat, etc.) and journeyed past the (do not walk) signs screwed to the side of the stop lights on the corner of Boone and Executive to the great unknown at the base of the La Quinta sign.

I walked gingerly in the tall and extremely dewy grasses, moving slowly and purposefully towards the edge of the do not cross this chain-link fence, barrier near the water's edge. I noticed immediately all the varied and colorful wild flowers, and wild weeds that dotted the landscape as I crept. The amazing array of insect life too caught my attention; dragonflies of many sizes, colors and configurations alongside beautiful butterflies and moths, crickets and grasshoppers. It was then that I spotted my first warbler of the later summer; a Palm Warbler in the low shrubbery at the water's edge, pumping its tail in that unmistakable way. Attempting to get a "better look" at it, I ventured into a waist high patch of grass. That's when the dual "soakers" happened. Oh well, I sighed and decided that since I was already good and wet, what the heck...and kept going. I was rewarded for my efforts and soggy feet with a special view of a Canada Goose nest and several pairs of Wood Ducks in the waters near the freeway. These stalwart waders seemed quite oblivious to the noise of the traffic, or the close proximity to any potential danger; and unless you went where I just slogged, you'd never ever see them.

Being careful not to disturb their solace, I navigated out and around the edge of the roadway where I stirred up a foraging woodchuck who must have been munching on the plants near the shoulder. I mutter, "that was cool" and looked in vain into the tall grass for more signs of it.

The sun was getting higher and the birds in the trees were becoming more active. I stood with binoculars raised and counted 14 species from where I stood. There were Cedar Waxwings and Goldfinches, House Finches and Starlings, Mourning Doves and House Sparrows, just to name a few...each one bringing a smile to my (on vacation) face. I felt alive and rested, ready for whatever the day would bring.

Which when you keep your eyes open; can be quite a lot. (fin)

MORE BONUS IMAGES BELOW!!

What Happened to my Marigolds?!

2010-08-01T11:13:00.000-05:00

Just a simple question...why are bunnies so damn cute?

Let's plant some flowers to brighten up the front of the house...you know, some instant "curb-appeal" and something nice to make a person smile.

Two flats of Home Depot marigolds planted firmly in the soil in front of the house...check.
Sufficient watering for new plants...check.
Sunny conditions to spur on new growth...check.
A crap-load of newly hatched 2010 (cute as a button) bunny rabbits who apparently think that marigold leaves, and flowers (and not the stems) are delicious...check?

Yes flora-fans, the rabbits got to my flowers. What can I say except to ask a simple (yet somehow complex) question: Why is it that "cute" little bunnies are decimating the plants? You know...why not some "other" creature; detestably horrid and vile?

When poignant issues like this arise, I think of my son Max and his incessant verbalizations in large public spaces regarding the highly implausible scenario of an imminent Zombie attack. He'll scan the surroundings of (let's say) a shopping mall, or large open warehouse area in a Lowes or Home Depot, and remark matter of factly, "If the attack should begin here and now, that hardware area there - would be the first place I'd head in order to hold them off." Hmmm...well, I of course (as the responsible parent) will always remind him that, "Zombies aren't real and that he should stop thinking about contingency plans related to a possible Zombie VS. the rest of the human race stand-off".

But now, pondering the bunny infestation, my loss of marigolds, and the obvious conundrum surrounding their impossible God-given cute-ness - linked to the inevitable question of, "how could I possible take retribution against such a lovably-soft, large-eyed mammal?" I summarize that I'd rather fight Zombies instead...assuming of course that Zombies would (or could) eat marigolds. THEN, at least I could pull the trigger and eliminate a few horrid, hellspawn marigold-mauraders with a clear conscience.

But bunnies?...c'mon...that's not fair.

Po-tay-toh, Po-tot-oh ~ Ci-kay-dah, Ci-ka-dah

2010-07-06T09:52:00.000-05:00

However it is pronounced; this bug rocks my summertime!

It seems as though my life has been blessedly marked (as many others have) by particular annual natural events which have left their indelible mental check marks. For instance, ever since I was a kid I have been fascinated by insects...all of them, and what their delicate life-cycles mean in the flow of life here on earth. The late May days in northern Wisconsin when the mayflies would emerge nearly simultaneously to spend their precious few hours to a few days in constant flight and reproduction. The dragonflys that would attach their larvae to lake-side pier posts, until one day when the time was right, finally bursting through into the world to unfurl their lacy wings, leaving behind a parchment thin crispy carapace. The appearance of a multitude of caterpillars that would some day "worm" their way into their more beautiful and universally accepted and celebrated flying works of art. The "June bugs" with their claw-like hooked legs flying sorties past my head, whirring and floating until they "grab" something (or someone) on which to rest their bulbous bodies. Whether we all admit it, insects with their various arrivals and departures have imprinted their existence in each of our personal hourglasses of the passage of time. For me...summer officially starts when the cicada sings.

Over the long 4th of July weekend, I finally heard my own familiar personal harbinger of heat; the Cidaca. (in Latin meaning "buzzer") Interestingly, when I hear this wonderful ringing sound I immediately think of the old 1937 George and Ira Gershwin standard; "Let's call the whole thing off." Why you might ask, would I think of that song? Well, it's simple if you reside inside of my head and have forever equated that song and the multitude of ways which I have heard the name of this marvelous bug pronounced. Tibicen linnei is its Latin name, but then who knows that little factoid? In some circles this super-sized fly has been called a, jar fly, dry fly, heat bugs, and (a definite misnomer) locusts and did you know that there are over 2500 species of this amazing insect? Well, there's a whole lot that is available on the vast Internet, so I will not regale you with all that I personally know other than a few of the coolest things which you may list off and impress your friends with: HERE.

I have been fortunate to actually have a few of these bizarre creatures resting in the palm of my hand from time to time, and find that I can stare at them for long periods just appreciating their intricate design. I have seen the House sparrows in my yard chasing them through the branches, and even took a photo of a tiny Black-capped chickadee with one pinned to the dirt in its claws, as it pecked it apart for a meal...that was totally spectacular. I even recall one car ride to Florida in the middle of the summer of 1980, stepping from my vehicle for a gasoline fill-up, unable to completely avoid crunching them underfoot due to a sudden massive hatch crawling on the tarmac.

Each of these impressionable memories are possible because I took the time to make a mental note to be amazed with the natural world. What are YOUR personal markers of the passage of time, and do any of them involve bugs? If you answer no, then I suggest you were not paying attention...and there's still plenty of time to notice and record some. Just listen and smile as you feel the warmth of a brand new summer dawning; one bug at a time.

► Emergence of a Cicada

Fledging Another Chick

2010-06-16T20:57:00.008-05:00

OK little one...time for you be on your own now...

My daughter Dedra has graduated.

Yes folks it happened last weekend just like it was happening all over the country to countless other "Dads"...their only daughter was finished with high school. While Dads don't have it "easy" in this regard, they do tend to have it "easier" than the Moms. Dads by their very nature are not as emotional as their better-halves generally are. Dads are mostly "rub some dirt on it" types who go immediately for the solution to the issues; not stopping for a good cry along the way. That's how it "usually" goes isn't it? Well, here is one Daddy who felt a growing lump in his throat when he witnessed his one and only standing there so straight and tall - ready to take that last long walk across the high school gymnasium floor. I guess I am a big softee after all.

Sitting there on the God-forsaken, unforgiving pine bleacher seating, the mind goes into rapid playback mode on all the mental images taken along her way: The first steps taken and precious words spoken, (I want to believe it was "dada") the multiple birthday parties, badgering for homework completion, countless school concerts attended, cell phone probations, dates with "boys", after-school sports and activities, friendship train-wrecks, scraped garage doors, money borrowed, job interviews, tears shed, and oh the many, many laughs and smiles along the way. College awaits you - and then you name it...

I am so very proud of you - my Dee Dee...now go grab the world by the handles and haul it in...because I know you CAN do it! But don't forget to write.

Yes...one thing ends, and another begins...always.

VIDEO LINK TO THE GRADUATION - You Tube

Weborg in May (Part Two)

2010-06-09T21:55:00.002-05:00

I just love it when a plan comes together...

So it was with my plan to camp at Weborg Campground in Peninsula State Park on May 21-24 - 2010. The weather was (mostly) nice and the birding was as phenomenal as I had dreamed (hoped) it would be.

Lured in to my early spring junket to Door County, WI by a promise to rent those little motor-scooters when we got to the Park; son Nelson had agreed to come along. Now Nelson probably would have gone along regardless with his old-man, however the chance to zip along on something motorized and different appealed to him immediately. The intense birding I was planning on doing - probably not so much. I will give him a lot of credit for even pretending to be interested in the constant avian anecdotes and factoids which I was gleefully spewing, as his face never betrayed anything different. I actually kinda' sorta' think he may have really enjoyed the intensity of the hunt, but I'll gladly wear his admission of, "No, Dad I didn't mind at all...I really learned a lot" as a badge of honor.

While moving around the Park in our three and 1/2 registered days, both on foot and on bicycles we had brought with us we saw over 76 species of birds; many of them migrating warblers. (No...sorry...I choked on the $ 48.00/hour quoted charge for a single motor scooter, and Nelson didn't even seem to mind my backing away from that idea) I made it up for stiffing him on his scooter-ride the best I could, by playing three rounds of stimulating mini-golf and competative go-cart racing in amongst stopping for locally made ice cream in delicious waffle cones and other area confections. One of the more famous of the must-do stops is in Ephraim. The signature red and white themed place is called "Wilson's" and is a local iconic (104 year-old) restaurant and ice cream parlor that serves your basic hamburgers, fries and malts, while filling the summer-time college kid need for steady employment between semesters. I particularly LOVE their home-brewed draft root beer. This year I bought both of us commemorative ball caps...why?...cause I just love ball caps. (and tee-shirts...I love those too, so I bought one)

One of the most memorable things particular to this trip to the State Park was definitely the enormous patches of brilliantly blue forget-me-nots. Because I had never been in the park this early in the year before, I didn't know about this particular stunning display. As I rode along one of the many bike paths in the park, I was taken with the incredible beauty of these simple flowers. The sheer concentration of them seemed to cause the ground to glow with their natural iridescence. Another first for this trip was the amount of trilliums in bloom and the occasional delicate yellow Lady slipper along the trails. Mostly I just enjoyed the company of my first born, as he gladly accompanied me on each adventure I dreamed up.

The two of us had nice fire-side talks while sitting and sipping beverages, and allowed the time of day and amount of natural light to slowly lull us into a non-typical bed-time each night. The crickets and frogs on our side of Weborg's natural marsh, cranked it up to full volume at dusk. The cacophony was truly spectacular and would probably keep most light sleepers from drifting off to La-La land...not me...I absolutely enjoyed each chirp and croak until dawn came to nudge my eyelids open. Bacon on the camp stove, coarse ground camp coffee, and blueberry pancakes made the trip that much more memorable, and having my oldest child along to share in the simplicity of the natural world around us, was priceless. Memories are made of these...indeed.

Thanks for allowing me to wax familial for a bit...It meant a lot to me.

Here's our bird list from the trip:

Forget-Me-Nots in Bloom!

Weborg in May (Part One)

2010-06-05T20:55:00.001-05:00

I was right...dammit..I was soooo RIGHT!

...So there's this tiny (little) campground spot within a more massive campground in Door County, WI and I was bound and determined to actually "camp" there one day. That day came recently the weekend before Memorial Day 2010, but not without some careful, strategic reservation. If you have read my blog, you know that I have written at length about the Peninsula State Park in Fish Creek, WI. and how much FUN there is to be had there in general. Well, just add to that "usual fun" the possibility of being in the slipstream of dozens of migratory birds and voila...nirvana!

From the many other times that I had camped within the State Park, I had gathered enough of a sense that all that I needed to do was rely on timing and location, to substantially pick up the avian action. To that end, I started HERE on the greatest camping reservation system known to modern man; Reserve America. Weborg is a tiny footprint made up of only 12 sites. It has both its own flush toilets and showers however and is one of the more sought after areas in the entire Peninsula State Park. Firing up the old computer, navigating my way to the RA site; I then read the caveat on the RA site that said: Booking Window - Reservations must be made 2 day(s) ahead of arrival and can be made up to 11 month(s) in advance. To put the whole experience into perspective; I had to "back up" from the weekend I had targeted, 11 months and cross my fingers. That basically meant putting something on my calendar for 12:01 AM, June 21st to get me in there (if I was fast and lucky enough) on May 21st of the following year. Crazy eh? Yeah, crazy like a fox.

I will tell you that when that date and extraordinarily early time came, even though I was Birdstudy-on-the-spot, I still only barely landed my site, getting the final one available within Weborg. Don't think that me (Mr. Sceptic) doesn't wonder if there's some under-handed tom-foolery going on there within the bowels of the RA hierarchy, offering clandestine sweet-heart reservations to big money contributors... C'mon, you just KNOW that's got to be happening...right? The next thing was to explain to my wife why in the hell I would reserve a campsite in May, in (almost) northern Wisconsin. Yep, it can still be doggone cold then. I fretted over that one for a few moments on how to justify the insanity, then decided it didn't matter to me...I had NAILED one...YES!

When the time actually came to gin up familial interest and excitement in my admitted folly that next spring; a wedding invitation and graduation party threatened to derail my train. Still unassuaged I soldiered onward, committed even if I were to go by myself. Thankfully my oldest son Nelson (just finished with his Junior year at U of M, and home for a spell) gleefully signed on for the trip. This was shaping up to be a real honest to goodness "Dad and Lad" time for the both of us...now, could I just get Nelson to watch a few birds with me?

(Watch for Weborg in May part two...)

It's a Gull-Darned Head Scratcher

2010-05-30T17:57:00.002-05:00

Only they know for sure...

Here's one of those urban animal mysteries that is sure to keep you occupied for hours and hours if you let it...why the daily morning gull gathering?

I live on the typical urban mid-sized (mid-western) city of Milwaukee. My house is also located next to a typical green-space (called a "park") carved out between several city blocks in a (mostly) quiet neighborhood. Granted, Milwaukee is a city on a Great lake so the fact that there are gulls (not "sea" gulls people) frequently spotted anywhere in the vicinity is not news. However such a large concentration of gulls (mostly Ring-billed gulls each morning no where near the water is a bit of a conundrum. Each morning I would hear their plaintive cries and maniacal "laughter" through the bedroom window each day as I am getting up. The other day (at approximately 5:30 AM) curiosity got the better of me and I decided to finally walked the 200 steps over to Enderis Park, for a better look.

I took the camera, cause I always take the camera. While we're on the subject; take your OWN camera EVERYWHERE...you just never know what you'll see. I snapped a few images for the purposes of this blog, however who has not seen a large gathering of gulls right? Well that crossed my mind too, but snap away I did. The VIDEO segments are more interesting simply because there's motion and audio too.

So what did I learn from this one stint of gull observation? Not much really...only a few more questions came to mind. What I did see and mentally record is the following; the gulls divided themselves into two larger groups; one that seemed to prefer the combination girl's softball / kickball diamond and field and another that took the southern end of the narrow park property, basically doing a sweep of that 1/2 of the grounds, making several "adjustments" by hopping into the air, and moving back north a bit before landing - only to repeat the process. The entire "show" took about 30 minutes from start to finish. I paid particular attention to whether or not the Ring-bills were finding (or attempting to find) food in the grass - they were (did) not. Instead, this morning ritual of typically sea-side avian species seemed to merely be congregating for some larger. more mysterious purpose. They didn't all land at once, nor did they leave en mass; however the southern group did it's curious sweep and did vacate their chosen area well before the other diamond dwelling conclave.

The ultimate purpose of this morning's "flocking" behavior was lost on me; however that didn't stop me from coming up with several implausible anthropomorphic theories: Perhaps they all meet in Enderis Park each morning to decide the best route each group would take in order to cover the greatest number of unsuspecting citizenry in their chalk-slimy excrement, as they deposit what they have eaten and drank via an aerial carpet bombing campaign? Maybe this is their birdy equivalent to "let's all meet at Starbucks"? I guess I'd prefer to think something a bit more pedantic; that they enjoy slugs and that each morning as the grass is in full dew-mode, the possibility exists for the greatest number...either that or the early gull gets the worm (or leftover human picnic garbage...yechhhh)

Never the less, they come - each morning - stay for less than 45 minutes - and disappear into the morning sky...the question remains why...why indeed?

Reading of Phoebe...

2010-05-15T21:44:00.000-05:00

Snetsinger that is...

Have you read about Phoebe? I have. As a matter of fact I finished the book about her life and times while in Florida on spring break. The book I read was entitled: Life List: A Woman's Quest for the World's Most Amazing Birds by Olivia Gentile. My friend Tammy had loaned it to me and I eagerly began reading it, interested to learn more about the woman, the myth, the legend. Granted, this book has been reviewed by all the biggies out there, so my little response isn't really all that necessary, but I'll lay it on you anyway, in just two simple words: astonishingly sad.

I found the book a but sluggish and boomerang-esque with all its back and forth through Phoebe's life over a period of many years. You do learn more about the ins and outs of the Leo Burnett Advertising Agency (Phoebe's father) but the frequent story rewinds are a bit too, "who cares" for my taste, to keep me riveted to the book. As a result of that, it took me far longer to trudge through this book than it did for me to read Kenn Kaufman's Kingbird Highway. Now that book I truly enjoyed, but back to Life List for a few more moments.

The "astonishing" part of my two word review deals with the remarkable birding accomplishments of this uniquely driven, maniacally obsessed woman. With her boundless financial resources and the understanding of her long-suffering (Purina-rising star) husband Dave; its no wonder Phoebe was able to see all the birds she has recorded on her life list. Add the threat of a shortened life due to cancer, and Phoebe let 'er really snap. She took chance after chance with both her safety and her life in pursuit of goal after goal. Some would look at this behavior and merely applaud it, however I was torn between a "you go girl" attitude, and "what the hell were you thinking?" mindset. The unfortunate scenarios that she gets herself into are the "sad" portion, and her final, untimely demise is truly the saddest thing about her life. Most will wistfully say, she died doing what she loved...I logically say, she died and that's a damn shame...I blame the van operator by the way. If there was ever a more aptly named person (who shared a bir's name) I have yet to read about them...both loners, both obsessed with flitting about in search of stuff...yep, both Phoebes indeed.

So if you want to delve deeply into (not only Phoebe Snetsinger's life) but the lives of anyone she was related to, or came into contact with, read Life List. If you want pure unfiltered Phoebe, by Phoebe; read Birding On Borrowed Time - her posthumously published autobiography. I plan to do that very thing; just as soon as Tammy buys it.

The Birds of Gulf County Florida (part two)

2010-05-06T21:35:00.000-05:00

Watch For Birds?...oh yeahhh, thanks for the friendly reminder Florida!

Florida is amazing on so many levels. Bountifully beautiful weather, eternally sunny skies, no personal income tax and spectacular critters galore! While I freely admit to being captively enamored with the all avian life forms of the state, I do take the time to notice the "other" living creatures along the beach. No, not babes in bikinis, however they can be quite a distraction. Reptiles and other scaly looking mammals are what I'm referring to for purposes of this blog. With my camera always at the ready; I tend to snap pictures of damned near anything that interests me, making no apology with each click. I've even been known to photograph my airline food. Most likely because flying is such a treat for me and doing it so very seldom, I find it a huge blast when being afforded the opportunity. I guess the true romantic in me is a bit of a "memory-keeper" and since memories occur when you least expect them to...well...

What do you know about armadillos? I admit to not knowing much. Due to this fact, I have provided for the both of us ( me-Birdstud and you- Dear Reader) a handy dandy LINK that should answer just about any questions you or I might have. Interestingly enough however, one fact about them I found out I was correct about - they are generally nocturnal. So imagine my surprise when out of the blue (literally) I encountered a good view of one in broad morning daylight! Of course my propensity to be a shutter bug drove me to capture the images you see in this blog...why you ask? The answer is always; I though it was cool.

Just like I thought it was cool to take a photo of the huge aligator sunning himself on the far bank of the pond on St. George's Island, Fl. That's something you don't see everyday right? That little Pied-billed grebe(pronounced like "feeb") in the foreground-right; better not nod off and wander into shore eh?

The island, an extremely narrow strip of white sand is a bustling tourist magnet for those folks who want to get away from "most" of it all, but have some creature comforts nearby. There are plentiful tee shirt and hat shops on the island...YES so that makes it fine with me. There are places to dine and feast on fresh bay oysters, and LOTS of bird life both on the beach and just a bit off shore even MORE. One needs their super-duper strong Bushnell's to see them, however it is totally amazing to watch the Northern Gannets diving from way up high into the surf in search of an ocean meal. These bad boys have very descriptive and etched facial markings, making them appear fierce. They are basically built like little white fishing missles. I watched them flying along the beach on several of the days in large flocks, not unlike White pelicans do. Their gutteral calls in these larger groups can sound a bit like a pod of manatees...or at least what I imagine a pod of manatees would sound like, since I have not seen, nor heard a pod of manatees...come to think of it.

So that takes us to the end of another scintillating installment of Birdstud's Blog. Have we all learned something? I sure hope so...cause there's soooooo much TO learn each day, every moment of our lives if we keep our eyes and ears and heart open...remember to save those memories and to WATCH FOR BIRDS!

Great Blue on St. George's Island, FL

The Birds of Gulf County Florida (part one)

2010-04-21T11:17:00.002-05:00

The Great Florida Birding Trail, Shells and Relaxation...

Spring break 2010. Time to journey as far south as the Gulf of Mexico, as fast as possible...well, in a car anyway. Tickets to fly the four of us round-trip would have been much too prohibitive, so I grabbed the wheel and two bottles of 5-hour Energy and off we drove. 20 hours later (non-stop other than fuel) and we had arrived - Cape San Blas, Florida. The townhouse property we had rented was "Pristine" and so was the scenery on this white sand stretch of gulf beach. The weather was perfect all the while we were in the great state of Denial...I mean Florida...(it was only denial until we had to pack it up and drive back to Milwaukee, but then I am way ahead of myself.) St. Joseph's Penninsula, which the Cape is located on is a strip of sand snuggled up under the panhandle of the Sunshine State, close to St. Joe Beach. It is about mid-way between Mexico Beach and Apalachicola and off the beaten path on highway 30A, down 30E or Cape San Blas Rd. This was where "home" was for one week of sun, sand, and birds!

I took the comfort bicycle along so that I could get a bit of much-needed exercise. The Great Florida Birding Trail had a convienient trailhead to the St. Joseph Bay State Buffer Preserve about 3.5 miles from the townhouse, so off I went pedaling away into the sunshine. Parking my bike (and locking it up against the wooden covered bench area...hey a birder can't be too careful unless he wants to WALK home) I started to read the informational signage. The "parking area" was deserted on this Friday morning when I began to "gear-up" for my hike. Bugs are not really an issue at this time of Florida's year (outside of the typical evening blood-sucking no-seeum invasion), so walking the sand dune trail was quite pleasant from that angle. First the Bushnell's were strapped on, the camo-fanny pack containing my ID books and bug-repellent affixed to my waist, and finally the Fuji Finepix was looped around one shoulder and head. Yeah, I'm a bit nerdy looking, but who the hell cares right? Perhaps birding is a lot about fulfilling the "goal" and not much about fashion, so if this is a sport (hobby) that you are thinking about engaging in; drop the vanity okey-dokey?

The first 3/4 of a mile along this trail was rather quiet. Anolis carolinensis carolinensis darted across the sand between the palmetto bushes, scurrying out of my way as I passed. The sun was beating down strongly, heating up the white sand. I watched and listened as I walked haltingly in my stop-start birding fashion. My vision is not what I wish it to be when it comes to spotting color and unidentifiable blobs that are not a part of the local fauna. My "gifts" are in spotting movement and identifying auditory sound cues. Not bad for a 48+ year old I guess, but I have always suffered from what I call "crowd blindness" meaning that when I walk into a crowd of people, hoping to spot a family member, I can stand there looking and looking, mouth hanging open, drool building, completely dumb-founded until someone take pity on me and does a little wave or something. Meaning you can really screw with me if you want to...I can be a few yards from you in a large group and you can cruelly watch me pitifully scanning the masses over and over again for long periods of time if you so choose to...but for the love of GOD, please help me! So, I am usually watching for "movement" as I walk, and listening for clues to which bird may be in the area. That's what I was doing this day when I saw and heard the scramblings of something in the dry live oak leaves.

I stood still and waited. I was treated to the bi-pedal scratchings of two Eastern Towhees as the birds made themselves known by eventually walking into the open. The cheery "drink your teeeee" song of the male accompanied their mutual emergence from the underbrush. Only this guy sounded a bit different than the towees I had heard in Michigan's Warren Dunes area, with a kind of "extra" note being sung prior to the "drink" portion of the song. Interesting. This area of the trail was totally amazing. The many live oaks with their individual crops of sage green hanging Spanish Moss juxtaposed with the bright green of the palm treess and blue sky above was truly breathtaking. It was here that I spied my first Black-whiskered Vireo in amongst the tree tops, gathering its breakfast in a flurry of activity. Many Great-crested Flycatchers could be heard belting out their unmistakable "Mreeeps!" but not seen (by my pair of eyes anyway) as I made my way to the base of the fenced-in (keep the hell away) fire observation tower.

The right fork of the trail led to an enormous concrete pier. Unfortunately the pier was posted to stay the hell off of it as well...drat! Apparently the Willet that had landed on the deck of the pier was unable to read? Hmmpf. I doubled back to the fork and went left this time, eager to see where it led. After a few hundred yards, the trail abruptly ended at the bay side of the gulf with a big sign leaning crookedly in the sand proclaiming that people who made it this far should just leave their hands the hell off anything they encounter in the name of preservation for future ages. A good reminder I decided. I walked out onto the shoreline and noticed the cast away carcasses of countless enormous bone-white whelks lying in the sand. The broken soil topography at the shoreline also revealed partially buried shells and such. I assumed that this was what the signage was warning against; digging up the fossilized conch and whelks and other shells for souvenirs.

I refrained from collecting my own, heeding the sign's potential for big trouble (perhaps "shelling" out big fines) if caught poaching long dead mollusks. I took a few pictures (take only photos, leave only foot prints) and decided to do the State of Florida a favor by leaning my body into the listing sign to stand it upright and proud once more. (Gosh I hope it wasn't supposed to be that way on purpose...)

Much More Florida to Follow...

Firsts of the New Spring (2010)

2010-03-26T22:16:00.002-05:00

♫...Just around the river bend...waiting just around the river bend...♪

I look once more, just around the river bend of my favorite tiny stretch of the glorified drainage ditch that is the Menomonee River, to see what may be waiting...or is that "wading." Sure enough, there they are; Mr. Mallard and his beautiful better half. They're paddling ever so quietly, just at the edge of the undercut. I stand there, motionless watching...just watching. I am idly wondering how many people would even pause a moment to see what is a rather commonplace water bird, when behind me I hear, "Coming Through!" I turn suddenly towards the interruption, to nearly be knocked into the drink by two of the BRAINDEAD. Damn I hate that! I'm telling you...what a totally ridiculous hobby to spoil a perfectly serene moment of natural commune. Grrrrrrrrr...

I don't know what I have more of a problem with; the flamboyantly festooned cyclists bent on tear-assing up the nature trails, or the idiots who (like this other guy on my little first walk of the season) walk his German Sheppard off the leash, so that it's a full 25 yards ahead of him! Shortly after the BRAINDEAD encounter, I am turned away from the thin path staring upward through my binoculars, minding my own business, when my peripheral vision catches the blur of fur on a bee-line towards me. You guessed it...the guy's dog has damn-near scared the crap outta' me when I realize the size and breed approaching...no owner in sight. Sheeesh! That's unnerving I'll tell you. I believe I uttered some sort of feral sound, as my brain attempted to catch up with my options. Hey, buddy...you ever hear of a thing called a "leash law!"

Allow me a brief tutorial on the local Leash LAW! Milwaukee City Charter Ordinance - Chapter 63-1. Definitions. In this chapter: 1. AT LARGE means an animal is off the premises of its owner and on any park or parkway without the permission of the department or the director. Any animal shall not be deemed to be at large if any one of the following conditions occurs: a. It is attached to a leash not more than 6 feet in length which is of sufficient strength to restrain the animal and the leash is held by a person competent to govern the animal and prevent it from annoying or worrying persons in the park or parkway. Oh well...such was my first 1/2 hour back on my local birding trail. I can hardly wait for the brush to fill out so I can't see them coming even FARTHER away from me.

The Milwaukee County Grounds, another of my favs, yielded some more first of the year birds. This area of Milwaukee County, referred to as the Detention Basin is truly "growing" in popularity for many marshland inhabitants. This is the third spring for this recently completed dewatering project, and the surrounding fauna are taking hold nicely. The late afternoon cold air is filled with the various sounds of life; Red-winged blackbirds, Song sparrows, Killdeer, American robins, and dogs barking. Oh yeah, they're here too. Bunches of them with their hands-off owners trailing way behind them, frolicking and biting at each other as they (gag-me) "socialize." I just have to get over this, don't I? Well...it's hard! I am a law abiding citizen who follows society's rules; particularly when NOT following them, infringes directly on other people's nice days. I promise...perhaps I'll try to turn even my other two cheeks, but it won't be easy...no sir.

Ok, back to the birding...perhaps I'll try it next time with a few cocktails in me, before I go out...just to mellow me out. Care to join me? Great, but leave your bicycle and dog at home thank you...♫ just around the river bend...♪ ♪

Makin' Tracks - (Reading the freshly fallen snow)

2010-03-05T22:54:00.000-06:00

If we take time to notice the signs, the story becomes clear...

I often go to Havenwoods State Forest. This you know if you read this blog. One of the last times I visited, it was a day after a goodly amount of fresh snow had just blanketed the landscape. The hue of all around me was a beautiful ice-blue. Pulling on my brown Sorel boots, and fitting a warm hat upon my head; I walked off the plowed road into the deep white. I was here with full intentions of birding, however it wasn't too many yards into the woods where I decided to chronicle instead, the magnificent drama all around me captured in the snow. It would have been easy to discount or even miss entirely, but I was in no hurry and the afternoon sun was doing its best to warm the air making it quite comfortable. I was ready for a new and delightful adventure as I always am. Perhaps I am all too easily amused?

The first tracks I encountered were coyote...lots of coyote. In and out of the scrub, back and forth in a serpentine manner; these skulking creatures wound their way in search of preferred scent. Smaller prey had made zig-zag patterns which the coyote seemed to zero in on...probably rabbits by the look of them. The coyote seemed to have covered quite a bit of territory, for the tracks were numerous and the meanderings ceaseless. Whether or not the rabbit ever became a meal was not in evidence, but its attempts at evasion were obvious. I marveled at the tenacity which the coyote tracks displayed in their relentless, nosey pursuit.

Next to pique my interest were the Whitetail prints. Plentiful and much different than the coyote; these animals walked gracefully amongst the trees and bushes. Droppings and deer "beds" could be seen and in one extremely curious spot, it appeared that something caused one animal to leap an incredible distance. (see image) It covered over 15 feet from jump-off point to landing! I was impressed.

It seemed that even the tiniest of woodsy creatures came out to forage after the heavy snowfall. Small clumps of thistle and other grass plants which still poked through the cover, provided an oasis dinner table for these mini-mammals of the forest. Their wandering and winding tracks twisted back and forth in search of sustinance.

The shadows grew longer as I continued to examine the secret stories told by the remnants of these unique footprints. I wondered as I walked back to the WPT, whether the "tracks" we humans leave (as we move about our days), appear anywhere near as deliberate as these in the snow of Havenwoods, and would anyone even care to notice?

Here is a nice desktop image in high resolution if you'd like...

Thanks for reading and have a great day of discovery!!

Birdstud

Signs of Spring

2010-02-27T09:51:00.000-06:00

We’ve all got certain ones that send the message.

Whether you live in the sunny climes of the south and west, or the frigid cold of the north and east; we all have our “seasons.” And with those changing seasons certain cues which herald them in. Some are quite obvious, yet most are subtle and quite personal. Think about what ushers the changes for you. Is it earlier/later sunrises, warmer/colder temperatures, or is it simply the TV program line-up? Perhaps you” know” it’s fall when football season begins, or spring when the talk is of March Madness. Since our seasons are truly climatologically anchored, it makes sense that the natural world often provides the many of these cues. For the purposes of this entry; let’s focus on spring. (…hey, it’s MY blog and I have a memory to share)

What is a “season” anyway? I found this very informative website HERE, if you want more a comprehensive study. However suffice it to say that the season of winter = slightly less than 89 days, and spring is about 92+3/4 days. Now that’s all relative to your geographical location, and mindset. If you are trapped in a basement office with no windows, for your work day (like I am) the comings and goings of Daylight Saving time compounding the effects of SAD; you scarcely see the sun anyway. So any chance you get to interact with the natural (outdoor) world is sacred – any sign of spring a blessed occasion. Come on Punxsutawney Phil…you can DO it!

To put you (dear reader) into the proper mindset, allow me to regale you with a collection of wintry regional, meteorological data. Wisconsin climate is typically continental with some modification by Lakes Michigan and Superior. The average annual temperature varies from 39 F in the north to about 50 F in the south. The lowest temperature on record was minus 55 F, reported from Couderay on both February 2 and February 4, 1996. During more than one-half of the winters, temperatures fall to minus 40 F or lower, and almost every winter temperatures of minus 30 or colder are reported from northern counties. The greatest August to July snowfall total for northern Wisconsin from the years 1908-2006, belongs to Lac Vieux Desert at 161.5 inches. Between March 4-5, 1976 – Wisconsin was hit with a devastating ice storm - One of the worst natural disasters to hit Wisconsin in history. This incredible ice storm completely snapped hundreds of utility poles, downed thousands of power and telephone lines and totally destroyed many trees. Some ice accumulations ranged up to a phenomenal five inches in diameter on wires and limbs of trees. The excessive ice accumulations were in part caused by thunderstorms that rapidly built up the ice. High winds gusting to 60 mph made a horrible situation even worse. Up to 600,000 residences were directly affected by the ice storm and up to 100,000 people were without power during the height of the storm. Some rural areas were without power for over 10 days. The following counties were declared federal disaster areas due to the ice storm: Calumet, Columbia, Crawford, Dane, Dodge, Fond du Lac, Grant, Green, Iowa, Jefferson, Lafayette, Manitowoc, Ozaukee, Richland, Rock, Sauk, Sheboygan, Vernon, Walworth, Washington and Waukesha.

In my immediate neck of the woods on March 2-4, 1881 there was a blizzard which dropped between 2 to 4 feet of snow. Drifts piled to 20 feet. Milwaukee reported 28.5 inches. Between February 24 and March 20, 1881, Milwaukee received 63.7 inches of snow! On February 4-5, 1924 another Blizzard gifted some 20.3 inches at Milwaukee / 10 foot drifts. This event still ranks as Milwaukee's heaviest snowfall in 24 hours. Between January 3-4, 1982, a blizzard of 8 to 16 inches pounded the northwest suburbs of Milwaukee had 16 inches. Madison reported 8 inches. December 14-15, 1987 a blizzard (gusts to 73 mph) - Madison and Milwaukee had 13 inches of snow….had enough? Let me tell you, by March 21st I have, and am eagerly looking for my own personal signs of spring…groundhog or no groundhog!

My mother and I shared a common sign of spring. When the robins could be seen and heard singing their “spring songs” it was very close - even if the calendar said otherwise. When I was in her zip code many years ago as a younger person, the first one to see and hear that wonderful harbinger would immediately alert the other. When I had later relocated some 225 miles southward, the same sure sign was relayed via telephone. Since my proximity to the equator was just that much more of an advantage; I would usually be the one to make that call. This always seemed to brighten her spirits and give her hope. For me, among other positive things, I could finally take the rope down from the garage rafters. (just kidding…but it surely felt like that)

Little did I know that in the spring of 2007, my phone call northward, cheerily announcing, “We’ve got robins Mom!” would have been my last opportunity; for on Groundhog Day 2008 (what irony) Mom passed away…taking any chance of spring with her for that year.

Yesterday, just after 6:00 AM as I was walking the snow-covered path from the grocery store near my home on a mission for a few things; it happened. My hands full of plastic bags, my step taking me back to the house, I trained my ear ahead to catch a faint and growing sound. Surely it was much too early? I scanned the landscape for what I longed to see. There, in the bare maple tree a bit farther up the street stood a single American Robin, singing…singing, and singing its Cheerily, cheeriup, cheerio, cheeriup song. For some reason, hearing this magical (ordinary) sound on this cold February morning caused my heart to soar, and my eyes to weep; but it was time nonetheless. Without hesitation, I tilted my head upward and to the heavens above and emotionally whispered, “We’ve got robins Mom...we've got robins.”

I was (finally) spring.

Embracing "Tunnel" Vision

2010-02-20T21:02:00.000-06:00

You just KNOW you want to...

Remember when you were a kid? I do. Hell, I'm basically still a kid at heart and unafraid to admit it. Remember how it felt to explore new, strange, scary, ("don't go in there Joey cause you'll get hurt!") kind of places? I do. I still do cause I can...without the aforementioned parental warnings associated. Is it scary?...Yes Is it kinda' stupid?...Yes too...but what the hell? During the latest GBBC I ventured to Havenwoods (as you know if you read this blog) and came across a semi-frozen version of the same drainage system that is usually totally thawed (or is it "UN-thawed"...no, that sounds wrong doesn't it? Kinda like when you say IN-flamable, when you mean the damn thing will burn like a monkey on a cupcake right? But I digress...as usual Birdstud...as usual) Anyway, where was I? Oh, I was telling you fair reader about the drainage system...

Well, the tunnels at the bottom of the hill were practically screaming out, "COME HERE" to me, so I did. It reminded me of my childhood when I went down to the "culverts" near my Madison, WI home. I wasn't supposed to go near them because my Mom said I'd "get hurt" right...but I did anyway. I mean c'mon some of the guys from the neighborhood were having a rock fight on the top of them near the creek and I just HAD to join them. Geeze...when I think back about that...a freakin' ROCK fight no less! Anyway, I went to join the fracass and...well..dodged a rock and FELL into the culvert bottom and split my knee wide open. I remember running back full-tilt to the house for a medic.

When my Mom came outside to meet me, I said through my tear-stained and muddy cheeks, "Mom...I know I wasn't supposed to be by the culverts cause you told me not to, and you can punish me however you want to, but please just help me!" She did. I even skated on the punishment because (apparently) my contrition (and misery) was authentic enough, and she laughed each time she'd tell that tale over the years before her death in 2008...thanks Mom...I love you...you were the best.

So here were the tunnels of 2010 calling out my name. Were there dangers? Only if you count the thin honeycomb ice that coated the pond that drained into them. Oh what the heck...time for some Tunnel Vision! Plus, it was like visiting an art gallery if you like that kind of art anyway...see for yourself.

A tunnels-eye view

Drainage "Art"

Looks fun doesn't it? Thanks for reading and dreaming along with the kid in me...B. Stud

The GBBC 2010 ~ How did YOU do?

2010-02-19T22:04:00.001-06:00

Reporting your findings when it really counts...

No, the GBBC is certainly not the Greater Boston Business Council (http://www.gbbc.org) A Boston based organization to help the bisexual, gay, lesbian and transgendered business community, with more than 1,000 working professionals. However noble that goal and organization may be, it is totally unrelated to the subject of this particular BS blog. This little slice of Birdstudian poundcake is dedicated to satiating the hunger of those who value citizen science reporting. You see it's one thing to perform your due dilligence and "watch" the birdie, and another to remember to "share" your observations with the entire birding world. Whether you feel confident that you are "worthy" of posting what you "thought" you saw, you truly ought to give it a try and follow-up with your very own report.

By the way...you have until March 1, 2010 to do so...HERE just as I did below...

The Devereaux Yard

This first list above was observed in the backyard of the house on Saturday over the period of 8 hours of casual (look out the window every-so-often) viewing. I would observe a particular species and make a maximum count. What eventually was reported to the GBBC website, was the maximum amount of that particular species I had seen over that 8-hour time period. I decided to also sneek away for a little more than an hour to one of my favorite birding areas in the City of Milwaukee; the State forest at Havenwoods. I pulled on the big Sorel boots and trudged through the snow. Here's that final submitted count as well...(below)

The highlight of that little side-jaunt was the approximately 250 Starlings that decided to "electrify" me with their presence in a high-tension power tower.

I will be blogging more about this particular Havenwoods trip in a near-future blog so stay tuned...In the meantime, I also counted the next day just for kicks in the back yard once more. The weather for the three counts was magnificent and sunny as I spent as much time outdoors as possible. Here is that final submitted count:

So, in short I hope that you (fellow birder) also had the great fortune to observe during this past GBBC of 2010, and furthermore that you had the confidence to log on and report your totals.

Remember: Every Little ~~Bird~~ bit helps, when it comes to science...make yours "count" too.

Thanks for reading!

Birdstud

...and Now for This Brief Interlude...

2010-02-13T17:08:00.001-06:00

I ♥ ROBINS!

What can I say...

The GBBC 2010 - They're Counting on You!

2010-01-22T19:57:00.012-06:00

It's as easy as looking out your window...really.

Big days, Big sits, CBCs, the World Series of Birding...all big time commitments for most casual birders. Thank goodness there's an event for the majority of people to participate in, and enjoy; the GBBC. The Great Backyard Bird Count as it is called, "is an annual four-day event that engages bird watchers of all ages in counting birds to create a real-time snapshot of where the birds are across the continent and in Hawaii. Anyone can participate, from beginning bird watchers to experts. It takes as little as 15 minutes on one day, or you can count for as long as you like each day of the event. It’s free, fun, and easy—and it helps the birds. Participants count birds anywhere for as little or as long as they wish during the four-day period. They tally the highest number of birds of each species seen together at any one time. To report their counts, they fill out an online checklist at the Great Backyard Bird Count web site." Don't despair...there is even an "off-line" form HERE for those who don't have Internet access. But honestly, doesn't that seem a bit counter intuitive to even mention it on my Birdstud blog? I mean...you wouldn't have web access anyway; so how would you be reading this blog right? oh well...let's continue.

It’s as easy as 1, 2, 3!

1. Plan to count birds for at least 15 minutes on one or more days of the count. You can count for longer than that if you wish! Count birds in as many places and on as many days as you like—one day, two days, or all four days. Submit a separate checklist for each new day. You can also submit more than one checklist per day if you count in other locations on that day.

2. Count the greatest number of individuals of each species that you see together at any one time. You may find it helpful to print out your regional bird checklist to get an idea of the kinds of birds you're likely to see in your area in February. You could take note of the highest number of each species you see on this checklist.

3. When you're finished, enter your results through the GBBC web page. You'll see a button marked "Enter Your Checklists!" on the website home page beginning on the first day of the count. It will remain active until the deadline for data submission on March 1st.

HERE'S what all reporting "citizen scientists" counted in their "back yards" (for Wisconsin) in 2009. If you want another area's results: click HERE.

Another interesting link is the one HERE that gives you the Top Ten Lists of species counted.

Here's what I counted last year: (Psst...just cause it says "back yard" it doesn't have to mean literally your back yard. I for instance counted my birds in the Lakeshore State Park area of Milwaukee as you can see by the zip code I entered) Why did I do that? Heck, I guess I was bored with House sparrows and Juncos...I don't know...maybe I just felt like counting shorebirds alright...Jeeze!

Observer: Birdstud
Locality: 53233 Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Date: 15-Feb-2009 03:00 PM

Species* Number of Birds

American Black Duck 2
Mallard 20
Greater Scaup 12
Common Goldeneye 10
Common Merganser 6
American Coot 4
Ring-billed Gull 25
Herring Gull 96
Total 175

Anyway, I plan to be GBBC-ing again this year and may even do it from the kitchen window, who knows? How about you? It's fun and educational and it helps by giving the Cornell and Audubon folks a baseline from year to year from which to operate. It's important to get involved...try it this year.

Like whistling wraiths - they suddenly appear...

2010-01-08T16:59:00.010-06:00

In just ten minutes the sun will go down...why now do they come?

I am standing near the "river" portion of the water feature that I keep running all winter, and waiting. My boots have sunken into the new fluffy snow and I can still see my breath even though the light is fading. Hands in the pockets of my most "comfy" jeans, I can easily be mistaken for a tree stump in my khaki colored overcoat. I am however wearing a bright red Wauwatosa East baseball cap; an interesting choice of color for stealth, but I don't mind. My ears, followed by my gaze, are fixated on the predictable nightly spectacle of wonder. "You have to be still Birdstud," my brain reminds me. Suddenly, preceded by that familiar whistling sound, one almost collides with the back of my head before landing beyond on the narrow river bank. Two, then three more suddenly arrive in a nearly silent fluttering of wings and more apparent whistles. Their buckskin bodies mostly blending with the landscape near the pond. One by one, all ten of these gentle, timid, creatures take their turns at the waterfall and river way, quenching a particular thirst. It all happens in a matter of 5 minutes and then they leave; exploding in a flurry of feathers and sound, clumsily in all directions. Where they go from here is unknown to me, but I look after them counting the blessing of their brief choreographed visit...wondering.

All I Want for Christmas...

2009-12-21T11:50:00.028-06:00

Because to me...it (the annual CBC) IS the "something else."

Welcome to my version of the 110th annual Christmas Bird Count (CBC). What would Frank Chapman say if he could see how his vision of "counting" birds each Christmas season (instead of shooting the hell out of them in the annual "side hunt") has taken on a life of its own? Yes, I'm sure old Frank would be impressed that the annual "bird census" he helped to start is still going strong and attracting more and more citizen scientists each year. I have been involved since 2006 (four years now) and look forward to this totally odd activity as a part of my Christmas experience. If nothing else, it is a chance to purposely step outdoors into the cold Wisconsin (late-late) fall and breath in the crisp air for the entire day. At best, it is a chance to celebrate all things avian with a few like-minded friends and kindred spirits.

My version always begins with a hearty cup of steaming coffee and a bakery treat while the "strategy" of the day unfolds with those few stalwart souls who have decided to join me. This year's starting off establishment was Cranky Al's Bakery in Wauwatosa, WI. The coffee and baked goods are very tasty and the atmosphere is usually as "cranky" as advertised. This year's CBC participants were; Steve Fronk, Bill and Tammy Bokern and me. Nola and Kay joined the rest of us for a quick cup of beans and then went on to their own errands while the four of us began our official count at Charles Hart Park (around 8:30 AM). The weather was decidedly cold (27 degrees and falling) with a bit of a breeze from the north as we strapped on our binoculars and set off across the walking bridge across the Menomonee River in the heart of "section 20." The CBC is set up in 15 mile "circles" and each of those circles are further subdivided into 1 X 1 mile "squares" depending on the landscape in that single mile. The Milwaukee Circle was coordinated this year by Andrea Szymczak. Interestingly, William Mueller and the Wisconsin Bird Conservation Initiative (WBCI) had out an additional request of the CBC'ers to count the amount of free-ranging cats and to report them as well this year. The participants are to "count" the total amount of each species (they are sure of) recorded in their section, to the best of their ability from midnight to midnight. The "offical" turn in date for all data is February 15, 2010. The WIMI circle our little group participated in had established December 19th for the circle as a whole, so that's the date (day) we counted on. WIMI circle has its "turn-in party" beginning at 4:00 PM at the Schlitz Audubon Center the evening of the count. I turned over our count data at around 4:20 with pride and shared a glass of ginger ale; basking in the afterglow of another successful CBC. Doesn't that sound like FUN!?

Section 20 was more than covered by our group of four with some amazing American Robin sightings along with more than a couple of large raptors. The bare branches of the urban woods made the spotting of birds much easier than in the past months leading up to the count...probably another reason for the CBC's December time frame. We covered the "Big Four" first; Hart, Jacobus, Doyne, and Hawthorn Glen. These areas always seem to produce a wide variety and plentiful count. We spent some additional time driving around the "Highlands" with the intention of picking up some stragglers. Steve had left at around 11:00 AM to do some banking and then noon-time came and the Bokerns needed to leave for their own activities, so I went into Section 16; a lone (counting) wolf. Dineen Park is my favorite area of the "more urban" section 16 which includes Enderis Park (my backyard). The park has a large pond feature that is the summer weather home to large numbers of waterfowl. At this time of year however, there are far more American Crows than Canada Geese, but I did spot one individual who had discovered some open water for a quick dip and drink.

Section 16 does feature two of the largest cemeteries in Milwaukee. You'd think that with all that open land, you'd find all the birds you needed to count, but not so. I have been to these two cemeteries: Lincoln Memorial and Holy Cross each year and find them as bereft of avian activity as can be. Gravely speaking; it's really "dead" in each of them. I did however snap a photo of the greatest "tree-topper" ornament ever; an enormous Red-tailed Hawk. I finished up by doing a slow drive throughout the Enderis neighborhood with the window down. I "listen" for bird activity and when I hear something, I investigate accordingly. It's not exact science, but that's what I've always done by myself. Which leads me to the punchline of this particular entry. I encourage those of you who have not counted, to volunteer NEXT year. Make it a priority on your personal calendars...and no, not just the old "until something else comes up."

Consider making the Christmas Bird Count of 2010 YOUR "something else"...it's fun and worthwhile...trust me....Merry Christmas!

Section 16 sightings:

Canada Goose - 2

Herring Gull - 2

Ring-Billed Gull - 6

Red-Tailed Hawk - 1

Cooper's Hawk - 2

Blue Jay - 2

American Crow - 53

Mourning Dove - 17

American Robin - 1

Downy Woodpecker - 1

Hairy Woodpecker - 1

Black-capped Chickadee - 9

American Goldfinch - 9

House Sparrow - 140

Northern Cardinal - 13

House Finch - 7

Dark-Eyed Junco - 13

Section 20 sightings:

Canada Goose - 155

Mallard - 16

Herring Gull - 7

Great Blue Heron - 1

Ring-billed Gull - 5

Cooper's Hawk - 3

Sharp-shinned Hawk - 2

American Crow - 3

Mourning Dove - 14

American Robin - 79

Downy Woodpecker - 6

White-breasted Nuthatch- 7

Hairy Woodpecker - 1

Red-bellied Woodpeckers - 4

Black-capped Chickadee - 14

American Goldfinch - 12

House Sparrow - 90

Northern cardinal - 10

House Finch - 18

Dark-eyed Junco - 8

Remembering Budgie

2009-12-11T10:12:00.013-06:00

While some deaths are "small" in comparison; the feeling of loss is always the same.

It happened in the quiet of the kitchen last evening. Last evening as I was getting ready for bed, my daughter was in the kitchen after I had picked her up from a long evening's work at a local Walgreen's, getting a cup of something hot to drink to relax and unwind before her bedtime. She called upstairs for me to come down to the kitchen. "Dad, Budgie's dead," she told me, "he shuddered and took one last breath, and that was it." I looked into the familiar cage hanging from the metal stand and and sure enough; Budgie was lying still on the fresh bed of corn cob litter. Her eyes were welling up with the tears of loss as I hugged her, telling her, "at least you were with him when it happened...he didn't die alone."

Budgie was a gift to my son Nelson at a time when even having a pet (let alone a bird) was entering a brand new experimental Devereaux-family arena. He had received the bird on his 11th birthday along with the typical bird care giving accoutrement's. Nelson named him "Budgie" according to his genus Budgerigar (Melopsittacus undulatus) and it seemed to suit him. Nelson tended him as faithfully as any 11 yr-old could (with guidance to assist) until the day he left for college 6 years later. (Nelson, not the bird). At that point, the rest of the family took turns making sure that Budgie was taken care of and had a nice quality of life experience right to the very end. We all had our own "relationship" with this crazy-special animal.

Memories of Budgie include the times we would "allow" him to fly around the house to stretch his wings, avoiding the ceiling fan as he did. Attempts at giving him a bird-bath by setting out a pan of water to splash in were met with disdain. How he would ring his bell, use his abacus-mirror to "count," swing on his hanging perch, sit on your pointed finger and curiously allow you to "kiss" his head with your closed lips, but never allow your hand to get anywhere near him from above. I still maintain that he could say "pretty birdie" in bird-talk, but that remains debatable. Just having him happily squawking and singing will be missed on BOTH ends of a telephone conversation.

Budgie spent his last moments on this earth the past few days; apparently having suffered a stroke or some other brain injury that had incapacitated his ability to properly stand or grip a perching rod. I made some impromptu "ADA/Hospice" modifications and my wife had suggested that his food and water be appropriately transferred into two cage-bottom sitting jar lids. Out of extreme respect for his tenacity over the years, I did a final cleaning and placed a seed starting heat mat under his bottom tray to assist keeping him warm and comfortable in his last days. He waddled, slept, tumbled, and shook for about four days before finally giving up his good fight to remain in our midst. Fortunately we all had an opportunity to make our peace with him; talking, and whispering silent prayers as he laid with his eyes closed, too weak to even pick up his head. This stalwart creature that had once before fought and beat back a respiratory infection was finally over matched and was fading fast.

So in the still quiet of a below-zero December Wisconsin night, I tenderly removed him from his cage-home of over 9 years, wrapped him in a soft paper towel, and placed him into a clear Ziploc bag to be stored in the downstairs freezer for a future memorial "service." Somehow it didn't seem all that dignified for a family pet who shared many a family meal sitting in his cage pecking into his own seed cup nearby the kitchen table to be dropped unceremoniously into the garbage can. Yeah, that didn't seem "right" in the least...call me sentimental.

Damn...I loved that (tough) old bird...thanks for the memories Budgie.

Pecking Order

2009-12-04T11:54:00.044-06:00

At times things can get a little Hairy, so keep on your toes and listen UP↑

Thanksgiving 2009 saw this blog author back in his old stomping grounds visiting the in laws. Never wanting to miss an honest to goodness natural opportunity; I made sure I took a few morning hikes around the neighborhood. Not wanting to become a statistic in this year's Gun-Deer hunt, I stayed in the City limits proper, wore my RED Budweiser Dale Earnhart Jr. hat, and kept my fingers crossed as I wandered about; removing the usual white handkerchief hanging from my back pocket, for good measure. (JK about the last part) I was however truly vigilant and wary as I meandered along the railroad tracks and along the highway for traces of blaze orange, just in case. I had just walked down from the railroad bed that I love to walk along attracted to an anomaly of an ancient wire embedded in a large poplar when the loud, brief sound of a whitetail "huff" caused me to freeze in my tracks. I leaned next to the enormous power pole that was nearby, waited and listened. My eyes caught a tiny movement between the trees and leafless brush piles. As I waited, camera in hand for the animal to come into view, a new sound on the highway just ahead startled me. "Errrrrrweeeeeee...THUMP!"

Having grown up in the Northwoods that sound, proximity to the highway and the fact that I was awaiting a whitetail's appearance from the woods told me everything in two seconds: Car VS Deer...a bad match-up. I struggled through the adjoining marsh, getting two soakers for my troubles and emerged from the entanglement onto the gravel shoulder. Up ahead about 50 yards I saw a white Cadillac and a woman standing on the passenger side looking towards the Marathon gas station to the north. I sidled up and asked was she all right. She said that she was fine and that her vehicle had struck the deer's hind leg after it had plowed into another vehicle as she pointed to a forest green Chevy Suburban parked in the Marathon's lot. A shaken looking young man was peering at the both of us about 75 feet away standing next to his passenger side door that looked like it had met with a massive impact. "That deer must be around here because I think I broke it's leg," she offered as she looked through the cattails on the roadside between her car and the Marathon station. "I've seen more than my share of three-legged deer in my yard" she added. I explained my unexpected appearance and concern telling them both that I'd look for the injured animal across the marsh to the south. The woman drove off and the young man headed for the warmth of the station kiosk...he probably needed to process a few things.

I tracked the hoof prints as they had dug into the soft gravel shoulder in its fateful leap onto the tarmac and into the side of the suburban; to the other side of the divided four lane highway. I wandered in amongst the woods and cattails for a time and finally gave up, going on my merry way, but guiltily wondered if my presence in the adjoining woods has spooked the deer to panic-strickenly flee across the busy highway. Oops...my bad if that was what had truly happened. Hopefully this particular unfortunate (now three-legged) creature knew where the woman's yard was so that it had kindred spirits to hang with.

A large wide swing around the properties that fronted this particular segment of the Pelican River yielded a variety of interesting sights and sounds from submerged Trig's shopping carts to the peck, peck, pecking of a Hairy woodpecker. I stood and watched the Hairy for quite a while as it worked on the bark of a maple tree. These larger "cousins" to the more plentiful "Downy" woodpeckers are efficient excavators. At about 7½ inches long Picoides villosus has a much longer bill as well and is missing the spotting along the undertail that the smaller Downy features. Hairy woodpeckers forage primarily on the trunks or main limbs of trees, where they probe into crevices and scale off bark searching for prey. They drum frequently in spring. Their diet consists of bark-boring and wood-boring beetle larvae in dead and dying trees. They also feed on sap from sapsucker holes, berries, nuts, seeds, and suet. Hairy Woodpeckers form monogamous breeding pairs in late winter, and pairs from previous seasons often re-pair. Both members of the pair excavate nesting and roosting holes in soft or rotten wood, especially in aspens or dead conifers. Although Hairy Woodpeckers spend most of their time in coniferous forests, they prefer to nest in deciduous trees. Both parents incubate the 4 eggs for about 14 days, and both feed the young. The young leave the nest after 28 to 30 days and follow the parents around for some time thereafter. Each pair of Hairy Woodpeckers typically raises one brood each year.

The next stop on this particular "tour" lead me to a section of backwaters that were obviously on some nature group's continual radar. In the trees that rimmed the river's edge were about a dozen Wood duck houses that were in various conditions from beat to hell, to brand new. I was impressed that here along this seemingly lonely stretch of river that humans has actually decided to help out with the provision of handy avian housing. But as I looked up at the condition of some of the older decrepit units, I wondered what it would be like as the neighbor to one of these slum-duck squatters living in wooden squalor. Heck, I guess any duck could choose to move out of it's dive and into one of the new units; making them an instant "slum-duck-millionaire." (yeah, I know...) Industrious Beavers had also decided that there were a few tasty poplars that needed felling and dismemberment near this spot of land...thier tell-tale signs were everywhere.

Back to the tracks...I had only traveled about 300 yards when sweetly familiar sounds caused me to stop. Darting back and forth across the tracks and in and out of the lower brush were Black-capped chickadees. Their call notes and interspersed songs were delightfully pleasing on this cold and snowy morning. I stood watching in the center of the rail-bed at the antics of these tiny birds and quickly realized that there was definite purpose to their seemingly random flitting. A 6" diameter Paper birch tree had apparently rotted and snapped off (or vice-versa) near the tracks edge and the chickadees had discovered that it would make a convenient place to begin building their home for the winter. The minuscule bird (or birds, it was impossible to tell) would land about 24 inches away from the hole they had started, and then take a "turn" at the excavation of the inside. Down would go the chickadee into the hole and reappear with a beakful of saw chips and dust. The bird would fly off a short distance and deposit its tailing into the air, allowing them to cascade earthward before returning to the staging area once more. Fascinating! I must have watched (ahhh, hell-O it's called bird "watching") for about ½ hour before I had pretty much had gotten the gist of this marvelous building activity.

The next day it snowed. It was one of those "clinging" type of crystalline snows that coats each branch and makes them appear as if the whole world were dipped in marshmallows; at least as long as the temperature stayed cold enough. To that end I wandered out very early to get some nice digital images of the spectacle. I began walking again along the train tracks; walking slowly and inhaling the crisp clean air. I made it to the river and ultimately to the enormous Hodag at the Rhinelander visitors center snapping pictures all the way. This particular post-Thanksgiving morning was gloriously quiet and blissfully peaceful. I saw a few more of the "usual" species and was struck by a particularly large covey of Mourning doves that had gathered underneath my mother-in law's deck. Of course they "exploded" into whistling flight as I approached, but it was breathtaking nonetheless.

So perhaps the message of this particular blog (as it so often is) is to keep your eyes and ears open because you just never know what you'll see and hear; but also remember not to spook the deer towards the highway when you encounter them.

Sources: 2005-2008 Seattle Audubon Society

Videos below...

Watch the Hairy Woodpecker work

Chickadee Homebuilding Session

Leave it to Beaver

Deer Crossing - Zzzzooooooom!

Thanks for reading!! - B.Stud