After two very wet CBCs, I was quite pleased that the Waukegan count, held on January 1, would be dry. But there was a catch associated with this, my final count fo the period: the day was bitterly cold. When I met my group, Tim Wallace and Jennifer Schmidt, to go owling at Old School Forest Presaerve, the temperature was 5 degrees. A full moon (indeed a blue moon) made it seem a tad warmer but more in hind sight than at the time.
Owling is a sure way to get chilled on a cold night- you go in and out of the warmer car and stand around as, in my primitive case, the cassette recorder plays screech owl sounds. While strong winds can be a killer for both one’s personal comfort and the ability to induce the owls to respond, even a calm night might prove fruitless. Fortuanetly, we heard one owl and then had a bigger treat when a pair began calling over our heads. They flew around a bit and we had as good a view as possible in the dark without a light,
My territory on this count encompasses roads on either side of the Des Plaines River, from Route 120 on the north to Route 176 on the south, For many years, we would start walking along the river at the southern end and go all the way to the north, arriving seven hours after we began. For those who agreed to accompany me, it became known as the killer march. Now we walk only the southern third and access various points to the north by car. If enough people participate, we generally divide into two groups, one on either side of the river. (Mike Solomon, on his second and last time as a participant, enthusiastically proclaimed that the walk is more fun than a colonoscopy.)
The walk has had its trying moments. One year, I did the west side myself and assigned my two companions the east side. While one was searching for a winter wren discovered by the other, she slipped on the frozen bank and slid into the river. The bank was undercut so she could not climb out; nor could she move latterly because the bottom was so soft. Paramedics were called and they rescued her. I did not know any of this was happening so imagine my surprise when as I approached the end, I heard my name being shouted through a loudspeaker. I quickened my pace to see a police officer standing by the side of the road calling me. He explained that Margo had fallen into the river and was currently at a hospital, but she was all right. He took me there and Margo was indeed ok. In fact, when she was released she drove home to change and was back in the field to join us for our final hour of the day.
Nothing nearly that dramatic happened this time. We were joined at day break by Frank Abderholden, a reporter for the News-Sun newspaper who has become a friend. Among his other duties at the paper, he writes an outdoors column and usually does a story on the count. I decided that we would bird as a group rather than splitting up, in part because the east side would be difficult given that the river was in flood. We walked along the formal bike trail, but at one point it too was so inundated it looked impassable. In thirty years we have never had to go back because of water and I was prepared to wade on through if necessary, letting my companions, all endowed with far more sense, meet me at the next accessible spot. But there had been just enough freezing temperatures to make it possible to find solid ice as we made an arc away from the river.
Two days earlier I had scouted the section and had located a pair of yellow rumped warblers, but they failed to appear. I played my tape recorder and brought in the usual suspects of chickadees, nuthatches, cardinals, robins, and cardinals. The best bird that we lured in was a brown creeper. A flock of robins feeding on berries, included a few cedar waxwings. We also found the results of an interaction between an accipiter and a robin. Although the river was still open, all it produced were small numbers of mallards and Canada geese. We usually get a great-blue heron or kingfisher.
When we arrive at Route 137, where two of the cars were, we took a detour to cover some pines where I had seen a great-horned owl during my scouting outing. But just like the warblers, the owl had vamoosed. (I actually hate finding good birds when scouting- it makes missing them so frustrating. And if the bird is really unusual, I can burn a lot of time looking for it, as I refuse to leave.) But the longer trek proved worthwhile because I spotted a dark rough-legged hawk circling overhead. That is a bird often missed, but during the countdown, we learned that several others were also seen. It seems the frigid weather drove the birds south.
Frank left us when we arrived at the cars and Jennifer stayed for one or two more spots. Tim and I found the day to be kind of slow. Our best bird, and the only one seen by any of the eight other parties, was a northern shrike at one of the species most reliable locations- a cemetery that generally hosts one every second or third year. We also wound up with two sharp-shinned hawks (but not one of the far more common Cooper’s) and a kestrel. We ended the day at a robin roost. Hundreds of robins begin swarming in a small wooded area around 3:30. The only other species to join them are starlings and, on this day, a sharp-shinned hawk. We totaled over 800 robins.
This count also has a dinner and count down. Spouse Cindy and I spend December 31 cooking, and she schleps everything to the countdown venue on the first. So when counters begin showing up they are greeted by a spread of my chili, Cindy’s ham and macaroni and cheese, deserts (my apple crisp, chocolate pate, and white chocolate cheese cake garnished with pomegranates, and her cranberry-walnut pie and gingerbread cake), and assorted dips and other noshes. Only ten counters showed up so we have been living on leftovers, but the count did reach 70 species, including American pipits, eastern bluebirds, black scoter, glaucous gull, bald eagle, and eastern towhee. There are also 70 feeder watchers, but so far nothing new has been added.
Just 350 or so days left before my next CBC. . .
Cedar waxwing seen on Waukegan CBC January 1, 2010 (photo by Tim Wallace)
Tags: cedar waxwing, owling, screech owl