The road has a rather
inauspicious name. From what I can see
of it from the highway it doesn’t look that promising, either. The gravel cuts through the jack pine barrens
typical of the area, the dry sandy soil capable of supporting only low bush
blueberry, bracken fern, and reindeer lichen.
But drive half a mile down Hiawatha National Forest’s Road 3344 and the
landscape changes dramatically. The
ground level suddenly drops a few feet and extensive bogs flank the road on
either side, with Club-spur Orchis, Marsh Cinquefoil, and Northern Pitcher
Plant crowding the roadside ditches.
The birdlife changes just as
dramatically. In contrast to the Song
Sparrows and Eastern Bluebirds which are practically the only birds in the
barrens, the edge of the bog harbors Canada Warbler, Northern Waterthrush,
Alder Flycatcher, and Connecticut Warbler, among others. I get out of the car
and crouch on the side of the road. I
hear a sound overhead which I had the opportunity to become familiar with last
winter. It’s the “tchet tchet tchet” of
a flock of White-winged Crossbills flying over.
Just seconds later, I hear a similar sound coming from the
treetops: I’m not as familiar with this
sound, but I still recognize it as the deeper, slower “thyuk thyuk thyuk” of a
feeding group of Red Crossbills! In
minutes, a Lincoln’s Sparrow comes within arm’s reach. Lincoln’s is my favorite of the
Emberizidae. When non-birders think of
sparrows, they probably do not envision a bird with a striking white eyering,
beautiful buff breast and flanks, deep maroon crown, silvery supercilium, and a
resounding, luxurious song. I guess I’m
lucky to notice it!
Walking the roadside deeper
into the bog, I spot an intriguing flycatcher perched on the pinnacle of a
large dead tamarack. With a pale eye
ring and two striking white wing bars, it’s definitely an Empid. One loud “pish” draws in a whole menagerie of
curious songbirds, including the flycatcher.
I have a good enough look to see several field marks that make it my
favorite Empid, a Yellow-bellied Flycatcher.
Among the Midwest’s Empids, Yellow-bellied is decidedly the most
distinctive, with its striking orange-and-black bill, raindrop-shaped eye ring,
bright greenish back and of course the namesake yellow belly. The species’ habit of living in the most
remote and inaccessible boreal bogs really gives it charisma, and seeing one
from a roadside is exhilarating.
The Yellow-bellied takes
off, and to my surprise a much larger flycatcher immediately takes its
place! As it flies in, it belts out the
“quick-THREE-BEERS” song of an Olive-sided Flycatcher. “Pishing” does nothing to draw this bird in,
but a look at it through binoculars reveals a very muscular, crested bird with
a striking black bib, looking like a boss on its lofty perch. He slowly raises and lowers his crest several
times, as if to make sure that he holds my undivided attention. After singing once more, he flies off to
another corner of the bog, defending his territory against any unwelcome bird
foolish enough to challenge his rule.
This can’t get any
better! Well, apparently it can, because
when I get my binoculars on a pair of woodpeckers hitching up a dead snag, I
notice their muscular profiles and completely black upper parts. I see that one of them has a yellow
“forehead”—I’m looking at a pair of Black-backed Woodpeckers! They fly away too quickly for me to get a
really good look, but a couple of minutes later a peculiar, resonant “chek!”
100 meters to my right allows me to relocate the male, who is spiraling up a
dying tamarack nearly out of sight.
Moments later the female, who had been feeding on the opposite side of a
nearby tree trunk, appears a few yards from me.
She lets loose with a bizarre “KYAH-kikikikiki!” and the male
immediately takes flight and alights on a tree close to her left.
I don’t exactly understand
what just happened but I’m glad it did, for now both of the woodpeckers are
actively feeding and interacting within ten feet of me! They appear equal in
length to a Hairy Woodpecker, but are altogether more impressive. More muscular than a Hairy, they have angular
profiles and a fiercer expression. As they
forage they tear off chunks of bark, flinging them to the ground several feet
below.
The male, seemingly curious,
approaches even closer, taking me in with his dark brown eye. The color of his forehead patch belongs in
Fort Knox! He is close enough that I can
see he has three, instead of four, toes on each foot. His stiff tail is bordered in white and his
glossy black feathers reflect a bluish sheen as he moves in and out of the
dappled sunlight. A black moustachial
stripe begins at the gray base of a sturdy bill that turns black towards the
tip. His immaculate white throat and
undersides are complemented by flanks barred black and white. Behind his eye is a thin white line, tapering
where the ear lies beneath the feathers.
White dots on his primaries are arranged to form several slanting lines,
which end abruptly at the secondary feathers.
I’m entranced by my close
encounter with this woodpecker, one of the most transient of the North Woods’
inhabitants. After a long time of
unconcernedly allowing me to witness him in his secret world, he flies away,
and I finally release my breath.
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