Return to Redwing

I returned a few days ago from Redwing, Minnesota, where Andy and I finished up our bird surveys on the lands owned by the Prairie Island Indian Community. Some of the more memorable events were not directly bird related: truck getting deeply mired in mud (extrication required the use of a Bobcat driven by a true artist; the miniature bulldozers are adorable and reminiscent of WALI); stomach illness keeping both counters up all night; and a thoroughly enjoyable dinner with Brad and Wendy Frazier, and Bob Russell and his friend Andrea. Two facts emerged  that are worth relating here. First, Wendy and Andrea grew up in the same part of Wisconsin but Wendy’s parents raised sheep and Andrea’s cattle. (Fortunately, Midwesterners are too polite to engage in range wars.) As a consequence, Wendy doesn’t eat lamb and Andrea doesn’t eat beef. (It is my understanding that soy bean farmers only eat meat.) But what was really amazing  is that Andrea and I attended the same law school at the same time- our principal reference point was recalling fellow student Phyllis “Women Should Stay at Home, Except Rich Ones Like Me”  Schlaffley.

We added a few species to our list from May. These included northern harrier, American woodcock, purple martin, and bobolink. The sparrows were still vocalizing in fine fettle but warblers were downright taciturn, no doubt due to the later date.  For example, we only had a single singing cerulean at one stop, and the one prothonotary we saw never uttered a peep.

If you recall from the last installment, one area of special interest is the island in the Mississippi River. Back in May, the boat we used was too large to easily reach all the points so we had to do a lot of walking. Because the island floods frequently, the dominant under story plants are nettle and poison ivy. My fear was that of shin-height in May, these plants would be up to our chests. Brad wore rain pants and Andy two pairs of jeans. Fortunately, in the intervening weeks, the tribe had acquired a smaller vessel that enabled us to land much closer to our points. Even though some of the passerines were quieter, the bald eagles were as noisy as ever. (It was a good thing the bald eagle was selected as our national bird over the turkey for if events had been reversed Thanksgiving dinner would be a lot less appealing.) 

But the neatest experience involved mayflies. Our trip did not coincide with the spectacular hatchings of Hexagenia that I alluded to in the earlier post, but what we saw was still remarkable. Thousands of mayflies of a dark color covered the foliage of the islands. When we hit the shrubbery they would erupt into flight, drifting into clouds of living splendor. Tree and cliff swallows swooped through the masses, gorging on the protein. At another spot, we saw a pair of white-breasted nuthatches with their bills filled with mayflies (imagine a “low-pitched nasal yank” emanating from a full mouth.) When I returned home, I called the University of Minnesota to try to find out what species we were looking at, but the individual said that without a specimen he couldn’t say. (If anyone knows from the season of eruption which species these are, please let me know.)

Andy, Joel, and Brad embarking on visit to island. Photo by Kelsey Voth.