Pack Birds

I like to be out in the woods. I enjoy nature and the outdoors. That’s part of the reason I enjoy birding. On occasions pursuing other outdoor activities has led me to birds I may not have seen otherwise. Being in the woods at night while backpacking gave me two memorable checks on my life list.

The first occurred in the summer of 1990. I was still brand-new to birding. My dad and I took a trip to North Manitou Island, Michigan. We spent 3 days and 2 nights backpacking on this undeveloped island in Lake Michigan, part of Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore.

The history of North and South Manitou Island is intriguing in it’s own right. South Manitou Island offering the only natural harbor for a long stretch on Lake Michigan, the islands were influenced heavily by shipping in earlier times, leading to much logging on both islands so that the wood could be used as fuel on the steamers that used to sail the waters. There are many shipwrecks in the area attributed to storms and poor navigation.

What attracted us was the promise of some isolated wilderness that was within a day’s drive of home. We booked our passage and set out. We hiked around the southern end of the island the first day and finally decided to make camp on the western side of the island. We camped high atop the dunes, overlooking the lake.

We had eaten dinner, the sun had set and we were just sitting around enjoying the cool summer evening when a ghost-like apparition passed overhead. We both looked up as it came over again and again. Making several passes mere feet above our head before flying on. It moved purposefully and yet was completely silent. In the dim illumination of the twilight, it seemed all the more ghostly.

It obviously was not a ghost, but a Barred Owl. The scene of that larger predator gliding past me without a sound was magical. It was arguably the highlight of the trip. (It certainly beat the ride back to the mainland with 3-4’ waves on the small boat. I didn’t get seasick, but I was certainly glad to put my feet back on land.)

My next nocturnal encounter also occurred while backpacking in Michigan. This time we were in the Upper Peninsula the following summer. We were at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. After birding Seney National Wildlife Refuge earlier in the day we backpacked to a site.

The walk in was a bit of an adventure in itself. We found ourselves caught in a late afternoon thunderstorm. Rain came down. Wind blew. Lightening flashed, even once hitting a tree near our trail causing a momentary fireball in the top of the tree. We were suddenly very aware of the aluminum frame packs we had on and hoped they wouldn’t become lightening rods.

The storm passed and we arrived at our campsite next to a small lake, just a few hundred yards from the big lake—Lake Superior—the largest freshwater lake in the world. We could hear Common Loons calling in the distance. As day gave way to evening, the loons mournful call gave way to the livelier call of Whip-Poor-Wills. As we were making final preparations to call it a night, one visited our campsite. I was standing up, and a Whip-poor-will flew up in front of me, hovered for a few seconds and then resumed its search for insects. The head-on-view of this nighttime hunter is another memory I will carry with me for a long time.