New England - Dream Yr Update (long)

Gregory B Miller (gregorym@erols.com)
Wed, 29 Jul 1998 00:44:43 -0400


Howdy all!

	I tried sending a similar message before, but I don't think it ever
made it.  If this is a dupe, forgive me.

---------------

	Another fantastic trip!  Added 8 new species: Little Egret, Atlantic
Puffin, Razorbill, Greater Shearwater, Manx Shearwater, Wilson's
Storm-Petrel, Leach's Storm-Petrel, and Bicknell's Thrush.  Total for
the year now is at 666.

Friday, July 24
---------------

	Flew into Boston and drove to Newmarket, NH for the Little Egret. 
Bumped into Dennis Abbott, Paul Lehman, and Shawneen Finnegan.  Paul and
Dennis located the bird after 4 hrs of waiting/searching.  Thanks Paul
and Dennis!  Drove to Machias, ME for the evening.

Saturday, July 25
---------------

	Boarded the boat from Jonesport, ME with John Norton for infamous
Machias Seal Island--home of Atlantic Puffin and Razorbill among
others.  Lucky again.  Michael O'Brien and a half dozen WINGS
participants were aboard.  We easily saw Atlantic Puffins and Razorbills
up close and personal.  A few miles further out, we came across Greater
Shearwaters and a couple of Manx Shearwaters.  Thanks Michael!  The
extra eyes are always a bonus <grin>.  Drove back down to Boston to meet
Massachusetts birder Carol Ralph.

Sunday, July 26
---------------

	Drove out to Newburyport, MA for a whale-watching trip out to
Stellwagon Banks.  The whales were numerous, but the birds were not. 
However, I still added two new birds for the year, one a surprise, too. 
Wilson's Storm-Petrels were present, but in short supply.  Surprise was
a Leach's Storm-Petrel which flew right beneath us at the bow of the
boat.  Thanks Carol!  Drove up to Newmarket, NH again to try to find the
Little Egret for Carol (her 3rd trip).  Unfortunately, we were
unsuccessful.

Monday, July 27
---------------

	Left Boston at 4:30am for the White Mtns of New Hampshire.  Due to fog
in the mountains (and fog in the brain), I took a wrong turn.  I ended
up at the base of Mt Washington an hour later than I had
planned--8:30am.  The season is already quite late for Bicknell's Thrush
and they are quickly becoming less vocal, singing only in early morning
and late evening.  The Mt Washington Auto Rd is only open from
7:30am-5:00pm.  An hour can certainly mean the difference in getting the
bird.

	Anxiously, I drove immediately to about the 3,500 ft level and drove
slowly, straining my ears.  Listening was incredibly difficult, however,
as the grade is so steep that it requires a lower gear to climb it. 
This causes a great deal more noise.  Additionally, the later time also
meant more traffic.  There was already a steady stream of cars making
the trek.  The prospect of getting this bird was seeming more dismal as
I drove up the road, stopping regularly to play a tape and listen. 
Nada.  No songs.  No call notes.  No birds.  At 5,000 ft I was running
out of the better habitat.  I heard Juncos and White-throated Sparrows,
but little else on the first run up the mountain.  I drove to the
summit.  My mind was blank.  I had a dull ache in the pit of my
stomach.  Too late, I thought.  It was my own fault.

	At the top, the wind chill was 21 F with gusty winds.  I took in the
beautiful view.  The mountains and valleys were gorgeous.  I took some
solace in the tranquil scenery.  Hikers were celebrating their climb to
the 6,288 ft summit.  I breathed in deeply.  I had gotten the Little
Egret after all.  What a great bird!  And an unplanned one, too.  But
somehow, I felt that, even though late, I should have gotten the
Bicknell's Thrush.

	My plane was scheduled to leave Boston for Baltimore at 8:15pm.  I
decided to give myself 5 hrs for the return trip to handle any Boston
rush hour traffic I would encounter.  That meant I could bird until
about 2:00pm.  Hmmmm.  4 hrs.  I decided to descend the mountain to the
4,000 ft level again.  It looked right.  It felt right.  I drove down to
the first pullout above the 4,000 ft level.  I had seen a single thrush
sp. fly away here on the way up, but didn't see it land.  I picked a
spot and sat down.  I was greatly fatigued from all the driving.  The
rock was comfortable.  I waited.  A pair of Cedar Waxwings flew into
view.  Juncos fed among the rocks.  White-throated Sparrows were singing
close by.  I played my tape several times.  Nothing but silence.  I even
tried whistling a few toots of a Saw-whet Owl.  Ok.  I *was* desperate.  
	After an hour, I got up and headed further away from the road as far as
I could walk (about 100 yrds).  I came to a steep hillside, covered with
a dense growth of stunted pines of 4-6 ft.  This, I thought, looked
better than anything I'd seen yet.  I was again optimistic.  I played
the tape again.  After the first song I saw a bird.  It was a thrush. 
My pulse quickened as I fumbled with my binoculars in one hand and the
tape recorder in the other.  Feverishly, I tried to focus the
binoculars, but it was too late.  The bird flew.  

	It did not fly far, however, and lucky for me, was still in view.  With
the tape player on the rock, I raised my binoculars and took in the
field characteristics.  The lower mandible was approximately the same
color as the legs--fleshy pink.  Only the last quarter of the lower
mandible was dark-tipped.  The face was gray and unmarked.  Overall, the
bird seemed paler to me than a Gray-cheeked.  There was a hint of warmer
coloration on the tail, a slight ting of warmer hues in the wings, and
the forehead had a small patch of warmer brown as well.  The spots
looked to me to be larger and cleaner than a Gray-cheeked.  

	By this time the pure energy of the adrenalin pumping through my body
was at full tilt.  A Bicknell's Thrush!  My 200-mile trip was a success
after all!  As quickly as it came, it went when it dawned on me that the
bird was silent.  Without a song or call, this bird's ID remained
dubious.  I picked up the tape again and played the song.  Two more
birds popped into view.  Was this a family unit maybe?  I played the
songs one more time.  The birds obviously reacted, but uttered no sounds
whatever.  Not willing to disturb the birds any further, I left the area
totally frustrated.  

	Life bird surge went to life bird funk.  I drove slowly from the area,
windows down, deeply mulling over the morning's activities.  I had been
told that if I saw a Gray-cheeked on Mt Washington, it would be a
Bicknell's at this time of year.  I knew how important song and call
were, however, elsewhere in the East, especially during migration. 
Still, the desire to tick the bird was great.  How could it not be a
Bicknell's?  I stopped myself cold.  Uh-oh.  Lister-itus.  Ticking a
bird by geography, by someone else getting a clear view, by the right
time of year, or by only a few field charactistics, etc.  Self-control
is indeed a virtue.  And a difficult one, too.  

	I think I sighed outloud.  That old hollow feeling of a *near* life
bird.  And then I heard it.  The call note.  That was it, wasn't it? 
The Bicknell's Thrush?  I was reserved.  Was I making it up?  It had
only taken an instant to stop the car.  I stuck out my head.  It called
again, this time very clearly.  A nasal weee-ah.  Incredible!  Was it
listening to my thoughts?  I listened.  It called again.  No mis-ID this
time!  The jubilant feelings that filled my mind were greater the second
time around.  Ahhh.  This is soul satisfying!!!  I blissfully floated
back to Boston.  I didn't wake out of my cloud of euphoria until I was
sitting in Boston traffic.  But I was ready to go home.  The list for
the trip was better-than-expected once again.  Time to get some rest
before my next adventure!

The Dream is still alive!

Greg Miller
Lusby, Maryland