[mou] Boundary Waters Birds

[Thomas Maiello]

Wow!  Spent a glorious week in the Boundary Waters last week and between 
the fishing, camping, funning, cooking, hiking, adventuring, and general 
wilderness frolic, I didn't have to bird - it seemed the birds were 
"humaning" me.  Several times I got to sit alone by the cooking area 
beneath a tarp tied high in the trees.  As I sat to enjoy the solitude 
the intensity of bird calls and flitting feather balls multiplied and I 
realized that birds were everywhere, surrounding me with visions I had 
only glimpsed this spring.  The birds were all somewhat disguised from 
their passion prompting pomp and circumstance presented in preparation 
for breeding in the spring.  In fact many were downright common and 
vague save for singular strong markings to go with their size, shape, 
wing length and bill type and color.  For the most part nearly all calls 
were peeps and chips with only the occasional (for me) identifiable 
call.  But for the relatively novice fall birder (I have only been doing 
this since 1976) the birds did their best to show off the markings and 
behaviors that would allow me to even think that I knew who they were.

The Golden Crowned Kinglets were the most abundant with simple 
brownish-grayish coloring with the strong yellow patch so clearly 
visible on their heads.  The Pine Warblers were a little easier to make 
out.  The most unusual for me was the complete color change or fledgling 
colors of (by tail markings and behavior alone) a single A. Redstart.  
(Apparently they still drink too much coffee in the late summer as well 
as the spring.)  An occasional Chestnut-Sided Warbler and a cast of 
hundreds of other Passerines who entertained and spent their time trying 
to ID me - "Did we see him at Carver this spring?"  "Wasn't that him at 
the Old Cedar Bridge? - no he had facial hair then ... and a different hat."

Of greatest note however was the near lack of seagulls (not an 
unpleasant lack to me) for in their stead were an abundance of beautiful 
and intense Bald Eagles.  They were all over the place!  They 
practically hung out with us.  They were fishing with us in the shallows 
of a bay, they sat 30 feet up in pine trees (two at a time) and let us 
fish immediately below them, they swooped within feet of our heads on 
their way to a stone's throw branch, and they out fished us several 
times while we fished the wood for smallies.  Several times I felt the 
wind from their wings as they swooped over us (can I say 'goose bumps'). 

I placed fish remains out the first few days in an obscure spot and 
while we were fishing an eagle carrying the carrion would swoop us and 
land in a tree 15 feet over our heads as if to show it's appreciation.  
I challenged them to be bolder by placing the remains in a very close 
and open spot on a fallen log along the shore just 20 feet from our 
cooking area.  One by one they came and noisily alit on a pine bough the 
protruded over the shore.  Sometimes their "alits" were more like clumsy 
stumbles as dead limbs snapped and and splashed the water. 

One by one they would study us until they thought we weren't looking.  
If we sat as a peanut gallery awaiting their appearance, they would sit 
until they thought we were sufficiently distracted with life to make 
their move.  They easily out-patienced us.  Seeing (I am positive that 
the word would be 'seeing' based on the intensity of their eyes) our 
distractions, they would swoop majestically down and with both sets of 
talons snag the head of the fish carrion.  We had made sure to fillet 
out the portions we wanted and left the other fish parts connected so 
each prize was basically an entire fish sans human select portions. 

They are so exacting with their talons that they would not even scratch 
the log as they swooped by in the microsecond of their catch.  Then 
another would come and alight on another branch and more quickly acquire 
sufficient comfort to snag our offerings.  At one time three in a row 
came through.  There is no way to relate the way I feel observing such 
magnificence and that delightful feeling of contribution to something 
greater than myself.

In addition to the eye-candy the eagles offered, we were equally 
rewarded with morning wake up calls of eagles loudly emitting what I 
heard as laughing calls for they filled the morning with joy and an 
excitement that loons alone do not quite produce.  There were the 
familiar and signature loon calls both day and night but the eagle cries 
poured gold from the skies in the richness they added to the entire week. 

Every time we floated beneath one while fishing, we would observe them 
fluffing their tail feathers and preen, dropping white puff balls that 
floated on the wind and settled atop the water.  When we examined the 
feathers they practically disintegrated at our touch.  I reveled in 
experiencing eagle "powder down" that I have read so much about.  I am 
no eagle expert but according to several texts and web sites, 
(para-phrased) these unique veinless feathers are scattered across the 
eagles bodies and are somewhat matted.  They grow continually with small 
particles regularly breaking off from the ends of the barbules producing 
a fine almost talc-like powder.  The fine powder is reported to help 
absorb the grime and debris that raptors contact but primarily, perhaps, 
the powder serves as a waterproofing agent and a feather conditioner.

I noticed that the rumps and tails were the main contributors to the 
down fall I experienced - logical given that eagles feed with visits to 
the water through plunges where they immerse only their feet and lower 
bodies.  I guess if they used their bills to help with the catch they 
would have more unique coifs than the dramatic sleek white domes we 
identify as "bald".  Perhaps we would be able to see the American Afro 
Eagle, or White-li-locks and the 3 Pikes, or maybe the Marilyn Eagle or 
perhaps the Justice Eagles of England.  Oops, I digress (and those are 
wigs the English Parlimentarians wear, aren't they).

Anyway, a delightful week of chumming with the eagles.  Can this life 
get any better?  Who says we have to die to get to heaven?

Thomas Maiello
Spring Lake Park (north of Fridley that is)

P.S.  Inside Confidential Scoop for Fellow Birders and Fishers - every 
Small Mouthed Bass was at least 1 1/2# and up (one at around 5#), 
several 2# Large Mouth Bass, dozens of pike in all sizes up to 6 pounds, 
and sufficient 1-1 1/2# Walleye to sate our appetites.  Got our Pike and 
Walleye dinners within 15 minutes just before we cooked (now that is 
reliable fishing resources)- all the rest were released and are waiting 
for you - please let the smallies return so I can visit them next year.  
A handful of mosquitoes just after dusk - no other insects of note.  One 
portage in and the greatest campsite on the planet (9th return trip).  
(A warm smile spread across his face as if he had just returned somewhere.)