By Bob Lewis
I was determined to get 100 species on my 2008 Birdathon list and so I had started at 3:30 that 5th day
of May (Cinco de Mayo).
The previous week I had made a practice foray and only achieved 85 birds. Part of this is due to my reduced hearing ability in my 80th year, because
in former years I had had no difficulty reaching this 100-bird level when birding in the first week of May, which might be
the ultimate week for birding during migration.
That morning I had stopped at Castor River Conservation Area in Madison County,
at Duck Creek Conservation Area and finally at a very flooded Mingo National Wildlife Refuge.
By noon I had 70 species but the birds are always harder to find in the afternoon
and I was under no illusion it was going to be easy.
After a lunch of cold beans and fruit cocktail at Ditch 6 in Mingo, I started
the car and headed for the marvelous Otter Slough Conservation Area located southwest of Dexter.
This area has always produced numerous species that are difficult to find in
other areas year around. But today was a struggle. I found only eight shorebirds
and only a few duck species.
At 6:30 p.m. in the far corner of the refuge a very late Snow Goose wandered
into view giving me my 101st bird species (I thought).
At that point my cell phone rang. It
was Bill Reeves. He said that a Black Rail was being heard at a rural location in the north part of Stoddard County, the one
that I was just leaving.
He suggested I “just drop by there” on my way home and wait for
darkness when the bird might still be calling. I hesitated. I was “dog tired” after 15 hours on the road.
But BLACK RAIL?
This bird is somewhat the “holy grail bird” to most birders. Almost nobody ever sees one and very few birders are lucky enough to even hear one.
Actually, there are many jokes about groups of people flailing about in the
darkness in hope of getting to add this elusive species to their life lists. Naturally
they keep running into each other until someone calls out that the bird just walked over his foot.
Doug Willis, our former president, saw a Black Rail momentarily last year at
Bean Marsh in northwest Missouri but it disappeared into the underbrush and nobody else saw it.
And then Steve Dilks saw one in Texas one year but he was eager to add this
bird to his Missouri state list.
And so I agreed to join Bill and Debbie at the home of Chris Barrigar who lives
north of Bloomfield. The bird had been appearing each night in a wheat field
across from his home. In fact, Chris had been hearing two Black Rails, one in
each side of the field.
When I arrived at the Barrigar home, I learned that Brad Jacobs was also on
his way from Columbia to verify the species.
Several of us had worked with Brad in the late 1980s in doing the research for
his book Missouri Bird Atlas. Brad has been a friend of East Ozarks Chapter,
having given programs here and in encouraging our work at Crouch Nature Sanctuary.
Some of us have his other book, Birds of Missouri, with his signing on
the front page.
Anyhow, I leaned against my car as we all talked and waited for darkness to
come. The birds had been waiting until about 9:20 before they began calling.
There was a steady stream of big trucks past the Barrigar home because a half-mile
away there was an industry that produced cat litter from the clay and it is apparently sold all over America, judging from
the amount of traffic.
At last it became dark enough and the five us headed up a pathway through the
wheatfield.
Nine o’clock came and I was tempted
to sit down in the wheat but was deterred by the thought of ticks and chiggers.
At 9:15 Chris began to play the call of the Black Rail on his I-Pod. The sound was sort of like “ki-ki-deer” and soon I became quite accustomed to the bird’s
call.
But my weariness
was winning out. I announced to the group that I needed to head home before I
went to sleep on my feet. We all shook hands and I headed for the car.
As I neared the road I suddenly began to hear the
“ki-ki-deer”
very close at hand. I stopped in shock and listened for a few minutes to the
call which was repeated about every 15 seconds.
At this point I signaled the others with my flashlight and they all came running
to the spot where we all shared the joy of actually hearing the elusive, the very rare, the almost impossible—BLACK
RAIL.
Other rails occasionally seen in Missouri are the Yellow Rail which Bill and I saw in our first year of
birding together, the Sora which is common, the Virginia Rail and the King Rail, both of which are harder to find.
It turned
out that I had miscounted my birds for the day and the BLACK RAIL actually turned out to be Number 100. Thanks to Bill for getting me there and thanks also for leading the way home that night.
Chapter Member Helps Solve Issue Of Wild Hogs Destroying
Woodlands
By Mike Cravens
Over the winter I spent many hours and hiked many miles hunting
these pigs. While I spent some very cold nights, and had my share of disappointingly close but missed opportunities
at killing hogs, I finally had my day towards the end of the winter.
I had hiked all day in a two-day old snow looking for fresh
tracks. I found a lot of sign from the previous day but nothing new. Finally, as evening approached and a steady
icy rain started coming down, I began making my way in the direction of the car, which was a good six or so miles away.
Along the way, I came across a whole group of very fresh tracks heading right into the wind. I slowly picked
my way along the tracks keeping note of the wind direction, and a close eye on the surrounding woods.
After about an hour of this, I was making my way across a
series of glades when I spotted a
little movement about one hundred yards or so into the woods. Moments later, I realized the movement
was in fact from hogs but there was a lot of cover in between them and me, and they were hard to see, much less get a
shot at
There was a large boulder about ten yards and slightly to the
left of my position that looked like a good place to get a shot from. I backed off and slowly crept up behind the boulder.
Clicking off the safety, I raised my rifle above the boulder only to be disappointed. All the hogs had disappeared.
I was distraught, cold,
wet, and empty handed once again. I figured they must have seen me, caught my scent, something. I was ready to
pack it up and head home but I figured I'd go down to where I saw them and try to make out what exactly happened. I
couldn't find any sign that the pigs spooked, the tracks just seemed to move off, continuing to root for acorns. I went
ahead, followed along, carefully. Coming to another glade, again I spotted movement about a hundred yards across the
glade and into the woods.
By lying down and sliding
across the ice-covered glade on my belly, I was out of sight of the hogs and able to get into a good shooting position.
Lying on the edge of the glade gave me a good view of two large
hogs, both of which were using their shovel like heads to root and throw large chunks of snow and ice into the air.
At this point my heart was pounding and my limbs were shaking. I had to remind myself to take my time, breathe deep,
and concentrate on making a good shot. One of the hogs turned broadside, offering me a clean shot. Settling the
scopes crosshairs just behind the hog’s shoulder I squeezed the trigger. Recovering from the recoil of the rifle,
I looked through the scope again. I had apparently missed; both hogs were standing at full attention, seemingly unharmed.
I quickly released the rifles bolt allowing the spent cartridge to expel and immediately slammed a new one into the chamber.
Again, taking aim, I fired. This time all hell broke loose.
There was a whole group of hogs, foraging out of sight, just below the two I could see. At the second report of the
rifle they all came running directly in my direction.
Immediately,
my head was spinning with all the exaggerated tales I had heard of these animals tearing hunters limb from limb.
My first thought was to stay on the ground and hold still because
the hogs had obviously not seen me yet. But it was quickly apparent that this strategy would not work because the whole group
was cutting a straight line for me. At this realization I jacked another shell into the chamber, stood up, and waved
my arms in the air. The hogs saw me and split off to go around me, a couple on my right, and the rest on my left.
Right away I noticed one of the hogs on my right was favoring a leg.
Knowing this must be the one I shot, and not wanting to be responsible for it escaping only to perish slowly later on, I aimed
my rifle, fired, and an instant later it lay still on the ground. To my left there was still a steady stream of hogs
moving past. Again I raised my rifle and fired, dropping a second hog only ten yards from my position.
From the very first shot, the events that took place seemed like
an eternity, but in reality it was all over in an instant. Gathering my thoughts and coming to the realization that
all my effort over the winter had just paid off, I made my way down the hill to admire the larger of the two pigs.
Needless to say I was elated, that is until I tried to move the
animal. This brought me to face the reality of just how difficult it was going to be getting them out of the
woods.
I climbed to a higher position where I could get a signal on my
phone, and then I called every one I thought I could talk into helping, but only reached my friend Brian Scheidt. Brian
was to gather up flashlights and rope, and I'd go ahead and field dress the hogs while I waited for him to make the hour drive
to the wilderness area.
We made plans to meet at a particular trail head about three miles
into the wilderness, and by the time Brian reached the trailhead it was dark. I was very happy to see that he
had stopped along the way and picked up my brother, David, to help out as well.
We made our way through the dark woods until we found the hogs. We were all concerned
if the chore ahead was even going to be possible, and in the end, it turned out that it just barely was. The difficulty
of dragging those two hogs miles out of the cold, dark, woods certainly sapped any inclination of trying all this again anytime
soon.
Despite the difficulty getting the hogs home, the overall experience
was fantastic and a great way to
spend the winter.
It’s Never Too Late
By
Sue Hagan
It’s never too
late to support your Audubon chapter’s spring Birdathon. And if you haven’t
pledged a donation or supported one of our birders, here’s the last opportunity for this year.
Remember, all donations go to helping our Chapter activities. Checks payable to East Ozarks Audubon may be sent to Bob Lewis, 26 Tanglewood Court, Farmington, MO 63640
or to Karen Adams as noted in previous letters. We want to expedite donors’
checks so that their bank statements stay current.
We had a great final Birdathon training session: some fifty birds counted. It really helps having multiple ears and eyes searching. And the brunch that followed our first round of birding was just what one might expect from an EOAS gathering—lots
and lots of good food.
Lots
This was my fourth year of doing a Birdathon.
My tally ended at 60—nowhere near the counts achieved by our expert birders, but I advanced over last year and
certainly over my first year count of 23.
What really matters is that each Birdathon year teaches me a whole lot more
about birding. This year I finally got a grasp on how to tell vireos apart: several
weeks after doing my Birdathon, I spotted a Yellow-throated Vireo on our property, the 100th species listing for
our haven in Rattlesnake Holler.
It’s never too late to thank all our birders who helped with our training
sessions: Karen Adams, Jenny Gunn, Bob Lewis, Janet Price and Bill Reeves. Weather
cancelled out some of our plans and made some of the outings more a test of hardiness than was desirable.
But I think everyone who participated would agree that the birding just keeps
getting better and better.
It’s never too late to get started in the wonderful world
of bird watching. We are already contemplating 2009 and hope you will be a part
of it.
A Fly’s Tiny Brain May Hold Huge Human Benefits
Columbia, Mo.—Before swatting at one of those pesky flies that come
out as the days lengthen and the temperature rises, one should probably think twice.
A University of Missouri researcher has found, through the study of a type of fruit fly, that by manipulating levels
of certain compounds associated with the “circuitry” of the brain, key genes related to memory can be isolated
and tested.
The results of the study may benefit human patients suffering from Parkinson’s
disease and could eventually lead to discoveries in the treatment of depression.
Memory in the flies was tested using a specialized chamber in which single flies
were allowed to wander freely. The chamber was outfitted with heating elements. When the fly moved to a particular side, the whole chamber rapidly heated to an uncomfortable
level. The flies eventually learned, or remembered, to avoid that half.
They feel this research is important to ultimately understand complex neural
systems.
Nominating Committee Report for 2008
A report by the Nominating Committee was presented at the May meeting and official voting on the list
will occur at the July meeting.
First on the list was Gary Chastain for president. Gary will succeed his wife Nina who is finishing her two-year term.
Gary is manager of Sherwood Forest Camp for youth at Lesterville and has been serving on the board of directors and
also as chairman of Crouch Sanctuary.
A surprise was that Jenny Gunn with a sly smile agreed to serve as vice-president. Jenny retired from her 30 year teaching career at Mineral Area College in May. She served on the original board of directors in 1980 and more recently has served
as secretary.
Another surprise was that Joyce Lewis agreed to serve as secretary, a post that
she held in previous years. John Crouch was once again nominated to serve as
treasurer.
Dr. Stan Hardy leaves the board of directors after serving for four years and
since Gary Chastain moves up from the board it creates two vacancies.
New board members nominated are Ruth Denton and her daughter Diane Hitson. They will join Nicole McKenzie, Vonne Phillips, Lynne Winston and Mary and Niles Woodney.
Tips for Earthquake Safety
A recent article by Doug Copp on the Triangle of Life listed 10 tips
for earthquake safety. In light of the recent tragedy in Chendu, China and in
view of our proximity to the New Madrid Fault, it might be well for folks in the East Ozarks region to review these tips.
Almost everyone who simply ‘ducks and covers’ when buildings collapse
IS CRUSHED TO DEATH. People who get under objects like desks or cars are crushed.
Cats, dogs and babies often naturally curl up in the fetal position. You should too in an earthquake. It is a natural safety/survival
instinct. That position helps you survive in a smaller void. Get next to an object, next to a sofa, next to a large bulky object that will compress slightly but leav
a void next to it.
Wooden buildings are the safest type of construction to be in during an earthquake. Wood is flexible and moves with the force of the earthquake. If the wooden building does collapse, large survival voids are created.
Also the wooden building has less concentrated, crushing weight. Brick
buildings will break into individual bricks. Bricks will cause many injuries
but less ssquashed bodies than concrete slabs. Concrete slap buildings are the
most dangerous during an earthquake.
If you are in bed during the night and an earthquake occurs, simply roll off
the bed. A safe void will exist around the bed.
Hotels can achieve a much greater survival rate in earthquakes simply by posting a sign on the back of the door of
every room telling occupants to lie down on the floor next to the bottom of the bed.
If an earthquake happens and you cannot easily escape out the door or window,
then lie down and curl up in the fetal position nest to a sofa or large chair.
Almost everyone who gets under a doorway when buildings collapse is killed. How? If you stand under a doorway and
the doorjamb falls forward or backward you will be crushed by the ceiling above. If
the door jam falls sideways you will be cut in half. Either way you will die.
Never go to the stairs. They swing
separately from the main part of the building. Even if the building doesn’t
collapse, stay away from the stairs.
Get near the outer walls of buildings or outside of them if possible. It is much better to be near the outside of the building rather than the interior. The farther you are inside the building the greater the probability your escape will be blocked.
People inside their vehicles are crushed when the road above falls in an earthquake
and crushes their vehicles. In San Francisco the victims all stayed inside their
cars. Most would have survived if they had been able to get out of their cars
and sit or lie next to them. All the crushed cars had voids 3 feet high next
to them.
Simply stated, when buildings
collapse the weight of the buildings falls upon objects or furniture, leaving a space or void next to them. This space is called the ‘triangle of life.’ The
larger the object, the stronger, the less it will compact. Now you know what
to do if you feel the earth begin to shake. Go for the triangle.
Book Review by Nicole McKenzie
Silence of the Songbirds
The
interesting, well written book Silence of the Songbirds,the author, Bridget Strutchbury,shows us the amazing lives
of birds in great detail. She shows the reader the difficulties birds have during migration with the big cities and the finding
of shelter. In the breeding season, Bridget Stutchbury explains the problem of small forest fragments and the dangers of predators
the birds have to deal with. She also talks about how the use of pesticides and the continual logging of forests in America
and Latin America is affecting not only birds, but humans and other animals as well.
The Silence of the Songbirds
is a small book of 223 pages with lots of important facts that take a while to read and understand. When you have finished
reading it you will walk away with a better understanding of birds and the environment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Book Review by Janet
Price
Owl Moon, by Jane Yolen
Shhhh…If you go owling, you have to be quiet.
Late one winter night, under a moon so bright, a train whistle
blows. Fading away, the night becomes quiet as a dream. Head out into the night. Crunch over the crisp snow, followed
by little footprints and long shadows.
Be very quiet. If
you go owling, you have to be quiet. And brave.
There’s nothing to be afraid of in those black shadows. Call to
them… “Whoo-whoo-whoo…”
Then be still and listen. Listen until your ears hurt.
Soon the sound comes back through the trees… “Whoo-whoo-whoo…” Call again, as if you’re talking about supper, or the cold. Then watch as part of the big tree shadow lifts off, flying your way.
A shadow without sound.
If you go owling, you have to be quiet. Listen for the silent wings under a shining Owl Moon.
Owl Moon, winner of The Caldecott Medal, is a story for young and old
alike. Author Jane Yolen tells of a night, a thrill, many of us have experienced. The only thing better than hearing an owl call in the night is knowing that it’s
talking to you..
Sometimes there isn’t an owl, but sometimes there is. Go quietly
under the Owl Moon!
Book Review by Bob Lewis
To See Every Bird on Earth by Dan Koeppel
This narrative is by
a son reviewing his father’s lifelong obsession to see and make a list of every bird he could possibly see in one lifetime. Although the son claims he is not personally interested in birds, he passionately
tells of the great moments of his father’s quest.
He begins the story with the immigration of his grandparents from Europe. He tells of their struggle in the New York Jewish community and how they finally overcame
their environment and became successful business people. Their one concern in
life was that their son Richard must become a doctor. The bird watching young
man was allowed to join other boys in birding trips in the New York City environment.
They even joined a club. But he must study for a career in medicine.
He finally becomes a doctor and marries Rosalind, a young lady whose mother
was a friend of his own mother. The young couple use marijuana and move with
the young New York City crowd until Richard joins the army and moves his family to Europe for the duration of his army service.
Although he tries to make his marriage a success, there doesn’t seem to
be much harmony. Rosalind wants to move in a different crowd from Richard. All the while Richard occasionally sees a new bird to add to his life list. Son Dan observes all this and tends to side with his father.
When they return from army service the
couple gives up on marriage and has a divorce.
At the beginning of each chapter the writer tells of another of his father’s
bird-finding experiences. He also weaves the history of American birding into
the story.
After the divorce Richard begins to find opportunities for world travel and
meets tour guides that help him make a science of his passion for bird finding. He
tells of Phoebe Snetzinger and her march to 8,500 species prior to her untimely death.
He also tells of Peter Kaestner who was close to 8,000 species and was the birder most likely to break Phoebe’s
record.
At the time the book was written in May of 2006, Richard was close to 7,500
species.
