weekend war stories - dream yr continues (long)

GREGORY.B.MILLER@bge.com
Tue, 30 Jun 1998 09:46:44 -0400


--------------- cc:Mail Forwarded ---------------
From:     GREGORY B MILLER AT ~NOF1PO
Date:     06/29/98 11:35 AM
To:       mdosprey@ari.net AT Internet
Subject:  weekend war stories - dream yr continues (long)
     This is a re-send of a previous transmittal.  If you've seen this
     before, by all means delete it.

     -Greg Miller
     Lusby, MD


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Subject: weekend war stories - dream yr continues (long)
Author:  GREGORY B MILLER at ~NOF1PO
Date:    6/29/98 11:35 AM


     Howdy all!

        Yet another 600-mile weekend.  Ahem.  Yes.  I am feeling a little
     older.  In fact, downright wimpy.  Was gonna go for 5 new yr birds,
     but only had energy for 4.  Scored on 3 of the 4 targets.  I met the
     Black
     Rail search party at Vienna, MD at 3pm on Saturday, headed up by Hal
     "Mr. Black Rail" Weirenga.  Our destination:  the infamous Elliott
     Island--home of the Black Rail.  My targets here were Black Rail,
     Saltmarsh Sharp-tailed Sparrow, and possibly Whip-poor-will.

        Weather was HHH (hazy, hot, and humid).  A slight breeze kept the
     biting insects to a minimum during daylight hours.  I've nicknamed the
     area mosquitoworld amuzement park <grin> from previous adventures.
     The birding was pleasant even though the weather was sweltering.
     Toward evening we reached a good area for the Saltmarsh Sharp-tailed
     Sparrows (a name that is longer the sparrow itself).  Thanks to the
     sharp eyes of Paul O'Brien, we all got great scope views of the
     sparrows (several).  Cha-ching!  #612.  Thanks Paul!  Also, other
     notable birds in the area were Black-necked Stilt and Am. Bittern.

        The group continued South, but I turned around and headed back to
     Henry's Crossing on Hal's advice for Whip-poor-wills.  I drove the
     section of road East (toward Blackwater NWR) and counted at least 6
     individual Whips calling and had one even fly across the road (all
     between 9:00-9:10pm.  Scored again!  #613.  Thanks Hal!  Adrenalin is
     pumping now.  One more will tie my life list as it stood at the
     beginning of this year--614.

        I reconnected with the group down at Elliott where we all got great
     looks a Barn Owl.  We headed back North after it was completely dark
     and made the first pitstop at a reliable spot for Black Rail.  Nada.
     The marsh was very quiet (Elliott Island can sometimes be deafening
     with night sounds).  We walked in both directions straining our ears.
     No Black Rails.  Lots of Clapper Rails and a few Virginia Rails.

        On to the next stop.  The group is now a bit more pessimistic.  We
     spread out again at the lower yellow bldg.  15 minutes later I
     returned to the parking area.  There was a brief break in the frog
     sounds and I heard the distinct kikka-doo call of the Black Rail.  It
     only called once.  I immediately went over to the cars in the lot.
     Has anyone been playing a tape?  No one had.  I was elated.  Black
     Rail!  Several more of us listened, but to no avail.  No one else had
     heard my bird.  Uh-oh.  This does not look good.  Birder doing big
     year is only person to hear a Black Rail.  Yeah.  Right.  Enter that
     big, sick, sinking feeling.  Although disappointingly distant we
     finally found a calling bird that others got to hear, too.  Whew!
     Close call.  Another tick on the list--#614.  On the way out of
     Elliott Island we heard one doing its little growling noise, somewhat
     closer to the road.

        It was around 1:00am when I left the marsh.  I figured I'd head
     East and South, down the peninsula to Norfolk, then to Suffolk where
     I'd enter Great Dismal Swamp for Swainson's Warbler.  I thought I'd
     drive an hour or so and stop for a couple hours of *good* sleep.
     Nothing, however, was open anywhere.  Nobody had ANY rooms.  I finally
     stopped at 3:15am and slept in my truck in a hotel parking lot (thanks
     to the people at Best Western).

        I woke up at 5:30am to pouring rain.  On the road again, I hoped
     the rain would subside enough to at least listen for the warbler.  By
     the time I reached Virginia Beach, the rain was coming down in
     torrents and the roads had dangerous levels of water.  I passed one
     vehicle that was stuck in a foot of water on the interstate!

        I reached the Jericho Lane entrance to Great Dismal Swamp at
     7:30am.  Rain had just let up enough that listening was possible.
     Though extremely groggy, I now had some adrenalin helping me out.  By
     the time I reached the parking area, the rain had stopped.  I had many
     Ovenbirds, a Kentucky Warbler, a Hooded Warbler, and several
     Prothonotary Warblers on the drive in.  I parked and got out to the
     music of Black-and-white Warbler.  I looked at a map of the swamp and
     headed in.  I followed Jericho Ditch Southeast toward the lake.  There
     were jillions of Yellowthroats, White-eyed Vireos, and Catbirds.  Just
     10 minutes in I heard a clear, loud song of three descending notes and
     a small jumble of 3-4 quicker notes at the end.  A Swainson's Warbler?
      I turned back and followed the song.  It was very loud.  I drew
     closer, a little puzzled.  The song was nearly what I expected, but
     not quite right.  Finally, after listening for several minutes, I
     decided I was listening to a Hooded Warbler.  I never did see the
     bird, but I'd never heard of variations in Swainson's Warbler songs.
     Hooded Warblers, however, have made a liar out me several times
     <humble grin>.

        The rain started again.  It was cool and refreshing and I got
     soaked.  It soon warmed up and quickly became stifling.  It was so
     humid, it was difficult to inhale.  The water-soaked clothing soon
     turn to sweat.  Every time I stopped, I could see steam coming off my
     shirt.  It was uncomfortably sticky.  Then the biting flies came out
     of hiding.  There were the normal Deer Flies, Mosquitoes, and
     Greenheads, and some critters I didn't recognize with a flame-orange
     heads.  Anyways, now I was exhausted, sweaty, sticky, and still minus
     a Swainson's Warbler.  My shoes were both wet, too.  Thwik-thwok.
     Thwik-thwok.  Thwik-thwok.  And my jeans felt like they weighed 100
     lbs.  With all the heat, flies, and dankness of the swamp, I felt like
     I was somewhere along the Amazon River.

        1 1/2 hrs into the swamp at a fast pace, I finally came across a
     track--a bear track.  As I admired the pawprint (about the size of the
     palm of my hand), I calculated that it was probably a medium-sized
     bear.  Fascinating.  Then it dawned on my groggy brain.  There were no
     other tracks because of the heavy morning rains.  That meant this
     track was less than 2 hrs old!  I casually turned and looked around,
     my heart beating a little faster than before.  I was the only person
     for miles (Great Dismal Swamp does not have DisneyWorld participation
     this time of year).  I wimped out.  Ok.  I was deliriously exhausted,
     too.  But I turned around, Swainson's Warbler-less for the third try
     this year (missed twice in Texas).  As I neared the parking area I
     heard the funky Hooded Warbler again as well as a distant Louisiana
     Waterthrush.

        Disappointed, I hoisted myself into my 190-degree truck, damp,
     sticky, and now quite pungent as well.  Nothing quite like old body
     sweat, dead swamp muck (shoes), and 3 gallons of fermented bug juice.
     Add to this *NO* air conditioning and all the mosquitoes that joined
     me.  Yummy <dark sarcasm>.  I pity all the convenience store people
     who rung me up while I purchased gallons of wake-up liquids (which did
     nothing for me, of course) along the way home.  I must have looked as
     bad as I smelled, too <grin>.  Needless to say, I did not have the
     energy to go for Henslow's Sparrow, too.  That will have to wait for
     another time...

     Still light-headed, but no longer stinky <grin>

     Greg Miller,
     Lusby, MD