Shack Talk:
Sunrise
It would be a stretch to say Leonard and I shared the sunrise on May 2, for the last week and a half has been mostly gray skies. I’ve risen — and the sun, I suppose, has too — but we haven’t really seen it. But, sunrise or not, Leonard was there when I started. There are decades of WPBO staff who can say that; WPBO’s bird migrations are splendid enough to inspire that sort of staying power.
But anyway, on May 2, Leonard greeted me with,
“I’ve only had one worse day at Whitefish Point!”
Given the many, many days Leonard has spent here, this is a bold statement. There are lots of bad days at Whitefish Point, particularly at the waterbird count. During bad weather, waterbirds — unlike hawks — still migrate, and I’ve gotten some of my best flights under the most vile conditions.
“Oh, was that yesterday?” I asked. That day, the number of the measure of wind speed (40) had exceeded the number on the thermometer (36), and cold rain descended.
“No. Eight hours of fog. I couldn’t see a single bird! But I heard a flock of geese.”
A little later
“This would be a great day if it was October,” I said to Leonard.
“Then, the winds blow from the south!”
They usually do. Migration counters, I think, spend great chunks of their lives wishing that the weather would change — imagining those few precious days when there isn’t a headwind and migratory movement is less encumbered.
Later yet
“You’ll have a good day Friday.”
“Why? You leaving then, Leonard?”
“Thursday.”
Then, for a few hours, Leonard birded in the woods, and it was just me out there watching wingtips low over the water, just barely clearing the wave troughs. Even on a stiff headwind, the loons just want to move so bad they battle north.
The final hour
When Leonard returned, it was the last hour of the day’s count. He came over to the shack; regaled me with his findings in the woods:
“Not much.”
When it’s windy like this, it’s difficult for two people to have enough room to scan from the lee of the shack, so Leonard acquired his own windbreak by walking a few dozen yards over to the Seney refuge sign that’s at the end of the boardwalk.
“Make sure to holler if you get something good!”
“You do that too, Leonard!”
I doubt either of us thought, with the conditions at hand, that was going to be an issue…but then I saw a Pacific Loon flying north. As the name implies, this species is quite rare on the Great Lakes. I had something good.
“LEONARD!” But I couldn’t get him on it.
“I’d be happier if you’d seen that too.”
Then, about a half-hour later, the unthinkable happened. I had TWO Pacific Loons flying together.
I expect one Pac a season here — to get three in a half-hour?! I almost couldn’t believe it. But I didn’t have the time to second-guess, and besides, our more regular loons don’t have that beautiful nape and head that gleams silver, especially against a surly Superior.
“LEONARD!!!” Stay right there. I’m going to get you on them.” He did; I did.
“Guess it wasn’t your second-worst day at Whitefish then, Leonard.”
Loon migration has been the dominant flight at Whitefish Point for the last week. In my last post, written April 26, I predicted that I’d have my first triple-digit loon day within the week, and the peak would happen within the next ten days. At least one of those statements has come to pass: April 27, I tallied 212 Common Loons and 20 Red-throated Loons during the waterbird count. Yesterday, May 3, was possibly the Common Loon peak, with 861 passing. This is a personal best Great Lakes daily count for me, edging past the 820 I had on Ontario’s Michipicoten Island in October 2021. Yesterday also brought 19 Red-throated Loons and, unbelievably, another Pacific Loon. Duck movement is in a bit of a lull right now — we’re in that in-between: after dabblers and scaup, but still a little early for big flights of scoters and long-taileds. The first Surf Scoters and Bonaparte’s Gulls are, however, just beginning to move past the count.
As always, thank you for reading!
~ Alison Világ
2023 Spring Waterbird Counter
Featured photo: A classic Whitefish Point spring scene: Leonard; snow; hunkering down in the lee of the north wind. Photo by Alison Világ
