Ramblings: Hike or stroll?

The booklet described the morning activities as a hike in pursuit of birds. The guide had birded on six continents. That word "pursuit" should have been a clue. My sisters were putting on boots as the group dashed across Highway 12 and headed north. Not to worry, we will catch up with them when they stop to look at the first bird. Wrong! These people were hikers, not strollers. They were soon out of sight.

One sister insisted that I go catch up with the group. I declined. The reason we attended the Bird Festival was to spend time together, like it or not, we were going to take my time to absorb nature, to appreciate the details, not just walk down a road through the intentional marsh. That is an area between old dune crests, formed before the last glaciation of Lake Michigan and the current lakeside dune crests.

Several state-endangered species nest in the intentional marsh, including the king rail and the Virginia Rail and the American Bittern. Several Warblers also nest there. The year before, I added the Virginia Rail to my bird list and was hoping to see one again. The small brown bird is difficult to spot among the rushes and cattails.

The roadside was a wildflower garden of spring bloomers. In the murky water near the road, wild flags and marsh marigolds bloomed. Warblers filled the early morning air with their identity by their songs. Guessing their identity by their songs, I laughed at the sound of a pileated woodpecker hammering away off in the distant tree. That's a sound we have no trouble identifying.

A small yellow warbler started fluttering around, drawing attention to itself. "Sweet, sweet, sweet," she sang, as she cried from bush to branch, sometimes perching high in the treetops. My eagle-eyed sister, Bridget, spotted her nest. The tiny delicate structure was perched in a small tree about 15 feet above the ground. The top edge of the nest was festooned with small pieces of pale lichen.

As we watched the warblers, a woman cyclist stopped to see what had us so enthralled. Our stroll became a teaching moment as we shared our scant knowledge about the area, the Bird Festival and the warbler clan. The lady had biked up that road and wanted to learn a bit about the beauty she passed. She too became enthralled by the little warbler. We took turns watching the bird with my binoculars before we continued our journey.

We turned off the road onto a trail through the marsh near the railroad tracks. The scent here was different than on the road. The aroma reminded me of a hay field. The recent rains had created large pools of water on the path. Most of the pools were full of tadpoles. We watched the tiny black torpedoes zoom around trying to find a place to hide. The marsh is home to many species of birds, snakes, frogs and mammals.

Some of them were waiting for us to pass so they could gobble up a tadpole.

Soon we came to a puddle that was too large for us to walk around without stomping through the vegetation and mud. That mud can suck a boot off your foot if you aren't careful. We retreated.

As we made our way back to the highway, we saw the group we were supposed to be with coming down the road. Much of their hike was experienced on our stroll.

'Til next time, Annie