Welcome to the Spring 2020 hawk watch. My name is Rich Couse and this season I will be your hawk counter, birdy blogger, and all-around Voice from the Hawk Deck at Michigan Audubon’s Whitefish Point Bird Observatory, but first, a little about myself. A year and a half ago I moved from New England to the Tip of the Mitt (local lingo for the northernmost part of Michigan’s lower peninsula) to pursue a career in raptor conservation. Wouldn’t you know it took me that whole year and a half to find Paradise! Literally. I now live and work in the town of Paradise, Michigan and I find it an endless source of amusement to be able to say that. Yet, on my first day of the count, as I walk up the 47 stairs that lead to the top of the hawk deck, my amusement turns into amazement as I find myself overlooking a vastly wooded dunescape on the shore of Lake Superior. With the forest going on as far as the eye can see I can’t help but believe that I truly have found Paradise.
As first days go, I cannot ask for better weather conditions for hawk migration at this time of the year. It is sunny, clear and calm, but cold, with a “feels like” temperature of five degrees Fahrenheit. It’s the kind of cold that brings everything into sharp focus. The world is silent and still. Nothing is happening. If it were not for the stalks of brown, desiccated grasses occasionally being swayed by a slight breeze I would think that time has stopped.
If you have ever wondered if bird (or raptor) watching could be a meditative activity this is the place where the two become one. It is only the bite of frost in my numb fingers and toes that keeps my mind from dissolving into the landscape, the lake, and the beckoning blue sky. Slowly, I come to the realization that when every moment is the same as the last, in effect, time becomes irrelevant and what is left is an acute sense of place. So, when something does change, it takes on a profound sense of importance.
A sharp “caw-caw-caw” breaks the silence from the south, and American Crow flies straight towards me and continues due north over the lake… A conversation “chika-dee-dee-dee” starts between three Black-capped Chickadees and we all notice each other at the same time. They fly into the Jack Pine closest to me and once their curiosity is satisfied they fly off… A Purple Finch sings in the sun, reminding me of something my good friend Chip is fond of saying “Give them one sunny day and they all think they’re Pavoratti!” At this time of year, in the places where winter’s grasp refuses to let go, moments like these are strong and memorable. They break the otherwise frozen wheel of time and assure us that Paradise is right where it is meant to be. It can be found in any quiet place where we are free to be alone with our thoughts while the outside world gently keeps us grounded.
Throughout the day the crows, chickadees, and Mr. Pavoratti grant me moments filled with life as they utter promises of the inevitable Spring to come. Meanwhile, I wait for my first raptor of the season, as the day grows long I wait and bargain with the forces of nature to send me one raptor, any raptor, please just don’t let my first day be a bust! Then, near the end of my day, a herald sallies forth and lets out a coarse “Crawk!”. A Common Raven sweeps north announcing the arrival of a kettle of Bald Eagles far off to the west. They rise on a thermal moving ever closer, two adults and three immature birds, slowly gaining altitude before they head out over the calm waters of the great lake. I take in a deep breath, watching them disappear into the distance and the day’s meditation ends the way it began. In silence.
Author: Rich Couse, Hawk Counter
Photo: Rich Couse
