The snow falls sideways here at Whitefish Point. Two miles down the road, I can look out my bedroom window and see a light snowfall drifting out of the sky, and it’s the kind of snowfall that makes me think I am living inside the idyllic world of a snow globe. However, when I reach the hawk deck, that same snow blasts straight into my face. That’s not to say that wind-driven snow does not, at times, pummel my house also because it certainly does. Those two miles make a big difference, though, and at the tip of the peninsula, where the landscape is exposed, the effects of weather are often magnified. Snow squalls strike with a repeated vengeance as if they have been insulted by my trying to take shelter inside my humble hawk shack. They hit so hard that the snow breaks through the seams in the small wooden structure, and to my disbelief, I am getting snow on. I watch it fall on the lenses of my binoculars and transform into tiny water droplets while I protectively gather my field guides and stuff them safely into my backpack. It’s cold, the world is gray, and I gauge that I can see about 100 meters through the squall. The tree line is just a vague suggestion, and I fight despairing at the prospect of another day without raptors.
It is no wonder that raptors steer clear of the Point when the weather is foul and the wind gusts in off Lake Superior. This spring, foul weather has been the standard. Easter Sunday was a sunny day that nearly reached forty degrees, yet raptors were few and far between. And with the exception of a very few other warm (keep in mind, warm is a relative term) and sunny days (maybe five), I struggle to recall a day where we did not have snow or rain. For the most part, I have stood on the hawk deck watching the skies through it all, hoping for a break in the weather, waiting for a bit of blue sky to invade the long gray days and create a passage for a relentless raptor to come flying through like an angel from heaven. One raptor is all it takes to make my day, to make me feel it has been worthwhile, but man, I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t ask for more.
It has been a terribly lackluster raptor migration here at Whitefish Point thus far, with the gray days far outnumbering the blue ones. Just when things seemed like they might be picking up, April decided to make other plans, and it doesn’t look like those plans are about to change anytime soon. The ten-day forecast does not look promising as it has more snow and rain on deck for almost every day. So, right about now, you may be wondering if birds are still migrating… and I can confirm that, yes, they are! Despite the bad weather, Sharp-shinned Hawk numbers have been minutely increasing, along with Turkey Vulture and blackbird numbers. Even the lake itself now has open water, which has opened the gates for waterbirds. So never fear, my friends; spring is still happening. It is just turning out to be a cold and wet one.
~ Rich Couse
2022 Spring Raptor Counter
Featured photo: Hawk shack at WPBO. Photo by Rich Couse
