So far, 2011 has been a slow one when it comes to spotting new birds to add to my list. Other than the Red-tailed Hawk mentioned in an earlier post, I have spotted a Golden Crowned Kinglet, an American Kestrel (formerly known as the Sparrow Hawk), a Red-headed Woodpecker, a Screech Owl, and a Eurasian Collared Dove.
Hopefully, during a week on the South Carolina Coast later this summer, I will have a similar haul to last year's trip when I identified 12 birds in the span of a few days. I have 29 birds to go before I reach 100!
I wish I had more time to simply go to a birding habitat and just sit there, for hours even, watching for a flash of unfamiliar color, hoping that I can get the binoculars up and into focus before the flash disappears. I can't think of many things that are more enjoyable. If you've never tried it, go get a good bird book, pick a date and start making a list. You will get hooked.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Lack of Peakbagging
Sadly, I haven't bagged any new peaks since February 11, 2010, when I attained the summit of Cheaha Mountain, the highest peak in Alabama. For the most part, hiking has still been a steady part of my weekly regimen, until this summer.
The hyper-extending knee incident earlier this year put me on the sidelines for a while. I decided to keep my walks on the paved roads of my neighborhood, or on the not so rough paths of Meeks Park. My knee felt "loose" for many weeks and made me shy away from uneven terrain. I kept imagining an improperly placed step on a rock, or a rut and having my knee hyper-extend, this time with more severe consequences.
In fact, when I did finally venture out on the Appalachian Trail hiking north from Dick's Creek Gap, my knee did exactly that. On two separate occasions, my knee just buckled backwards, for seemingly no reason. They weren't bad enough to send me to the ground, but bad enough to make me realize that it wasn't completely healed.
Then in late spring, I caught a cold that lasted the better part of three weeks. Coughing, sinus pressure, the whole works. Once I got over that ailment, it was summer which swept in with a vengeance.
For the first part of summer, it rained almost daily here in my part of North Georgia. Then, like the flick of a switch, it stopped, and has been very dry. Right now, my garden looks pitiful due to the excessively high temperatures and lack of rain.
I have also spent a lot of time on my property attempting to control an infestation of Chinese Privet which has taken over the lower part of the lot next to Brasstown Creek. It may seem strange to a lot of folks, but I really enjoy clearing brush, as well as cutting and trimming trees without the use of any power tools.
I have three tools that I use: a pruning saw, a tree pruner (loppers), and a swing blade for non-woody vegetation. It's a slow process, but knowing that I am clearing the land without using a pollution spewing two-stroke engine, doing it the way it would have been done 100 years ago, is rewarding. Plus, it is labor intensive which provides me a bit of a workout to replace the lack of trail time I've had this summer. I also like that the work is done while still being able to hear the babbling of the creek, the wind blowing through the trees, and the kingfisher's call as it races up and down the creek.
The dogs and I finally worked the trails back into our weekly routine, just for workout hikes. We'll go an hour up the trail and return. As soon as this heat wave breaks, the goal is to add Sassafras Mountain in SC, and Mount Mitchell in NC to my list of state high points. Until then, its yard work and short walks until I have something more interesting to share.
The hyper-extending knee incident earlier this year put me on the sidelines for a while. I decided to keep my walks on the paved roads of my neighborhood, or on the not so rough paths of Meeks Park. My knee felt "loose" for many weeks and made me shy away from uneven terrain. I kept imagining an improperly placed step on a rock, or a rut and having my knee hyper-extend, this time with more severe consequences.
In fact, when I did finally venture out on the Appalachian Trail hiking north from Dick's Creek Gap, my knee did exactly that. On two separate occasions, my knee just buckled backwards, for seemingly no reason. They weren't bad enough to send me to the ground, but bad enough to make me realize that it wasn't completely healed.
Then in late spring, I caught a cold that lasted the better part of three weeks. Coughing, sinus pressure, the whole works. Once I got over that ailment, it was summer which swept in with a vengeance.
For the first part of summer, it rained almost daily here in my part of North Georgia. Then, like the flick of a switch, it stopped, and has been very dry. Right now, my garden looks pitiful due to the excessively high temperatures and lack of rain.
I have also spent a lot of time on my property attempting to control an infestation of Chinese Privet which has taken over the lower part of the lot next to Brasstown Creek. It may seem strange to a lot of folks, but I really enjoy clearing brush, as well as cutting and trimming trees without the use of any power tools.
I have three tools that I use: a pruning saw, a tree pruner (loppers), and a swing blade for non-woody vegetation. It's a slow process, but knowing that I am clearing the land without using a pollution spewing two-stroke engine, doing it the way it would have been done 100 years ago, is rewarding. Plus, it is labor intensive which provides me a bit of a workout to replace the lack of trail time I've had this summer. I also like that the work is done while still being able to hear the babbling of the creek, the wind blowing through the trees, and the kingfisher's call as it races up and down the creek.
The dogs and I finally worked the trails back into our weekly routine, just for workout hikes. We'll go an hour up the trail and return. As soon as this heat wave breaks, the goal is to add Sassafras Mountain in SC, and Mount Mitchell in NC to my list of state high points. Until then, its yard work and short walks until I have something more interesting to share.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Slaughter Mountain - Elevation 4,338'
 |
| View of Blood Mountain from Slaughter Mountain summit. |
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| Open granite outcrop on summit of Slaughter Mountain. |
Start - Wolfpen Gap - 3,260'el
Trail - Duncan Ridge Trail, with some bushwhacking.
Time to summit - 55 minutes
Time of descent - 42 minutes
Ascent - 1,078'
Parking my car adjacent to Duncan Ridge Road, I grab my pack and walking staff out of the back seat. Across the road, a nearly inaudible conversation is taking place between a couple of bike riders and hikers. Other than this, the two-lane ribbon of asphalt that is Highway 180 is silent in between cars that can appear from seemingly out of nowhere as they round the curves, heading either towards Suches or Vogel State Park. I step in the direction of the trail, cross the highway and begin the steady climb.
The clouds are hanging low and as I look up slope, they can be seen rushing through the treetops, obscuring whatever view of the mountain that would normally unfold. As I look back at my car, two other guys with complete packs and ski poles have come off the ridge from the direction of Coosa Bald. They begin to take a break while I disappear into the woods. The uphill climb is immediate as I step up onto and around small boulders here and there that flank either side of the trail. The goal today is to bag the summit of Slaughter Mountain, the 5th highest peak in Georgia.
About twenty minutes up the trail I begin to hear the metallic click of the ski poles belonging to my fellow hikers. Judging by their increasing volume I know that they are rapidly gaining on me. I always pull of the trail for a breather when I know someone is about to overtake me. It's good hiking etiquette for there is nothing worse than having momentum and coming upon someone ambling along and holding up your progress. They both passed me, in staggered form as one was about three minutes faster than his buddy. At this point, I was sucking air so hard that I was glad to stay put until both of them passed.
The trail finally levels out and the burning in my calves fades with each step. I look up and notice a patch of blue sky. It looks as if the clouds may burn off after all. The patches of blue become larger as I walk on. Finally, the areas not shrouded by trees are flooded with a beautiful sunlight. The contrast of the sun with the remaining low clouds is wonderful.
I knew from studying the topo map before this hike that the Duncan Ridge Trail does not cross the summit, meaning I'm in for another bushwhacking adventure. As the trail descends, I know it's time to leave it to the right and begin to fight the sparse undergrowth. The goal is simple...to keep walking up until you reach the highest point.
It appears that I have not been the only person with this goal. A clearly visible trail opens up in front of me, then I notice a faded red blaze on a tree. 'What the hell?', I thought. This was not on any of the maps I researched. Why would this be a secret? Is it an attempt to discourage people from entering this area, or simply a forgotten path? I gladly follow this trail all the way to the summit, sparing me from the normal fight with briers. A search for a USGS marker is fruitless.
Like most of the peaks in GA, there is not much of a vista. Like Coosa Bald, there is a small granite outcropping near the summit that provides a small window in the direction of Blood Mountain. The clouds slowly blow through the gap between Slaughter and Blood Mountain, finally revealing the highest point in GA on the Appalachian Trail. I sit on the outcrop and soak up the sun for nearly an hour before retracing my steps back down to Wolfpen Gap.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Late Evening Light
A few days ago I had one of "those experiences" that simply cannot be captured by a photograph, or painted onto a canvas. My fellow outdoor enthusiasts know what I mean. It's usually some phenomena that involves being at THAT place, at THAT very moment, and it is usually over as quickly as it starts. The "double-rainbow" guy certainly knows what I'm talking about.
I was in the woods on a late afternoon hike with the dogs. I have noticed that as we head into March, the after-work hikes no longer involve a double-time pace in order to get out of the woods before full darkness covers us. The angle of the sun's rays are changing, to the point that you can actually see and feel a difference. As the hike began (Miller Trek Trail, again), the sun was still dancing across the fallen leaves that make up the forest floor. The sunlight, still shining yellow down upon the trunks and the tops of the trees, was blazing brightly as I slipped into the forest.
After crossing a few streams and making my way uphill and across the powerline cut, the shadows from the still leafless trees had grown longer. With my back to the sun, I noticed that the groundcover was no longer privy to the warm glow It had been cast, just until sunrise, into the oncoming darkness. Then, I slowly realized that the bright light had faded altogether, making a gigantic leap from low-level light to the dullness of twilight.
I had climbed high enough on the ridge so that when I looked back, I could see that there was a bank of clouds hiding the sun. It was just a thin strip, but enough to block the rays from landing directly at my position. I turned and continued to head upward, deciding to allow Tobey to run off leash with his already loose companion Rocket. I struggled to keep pace with them.
After about five minutes of picking my foot falls carefully (my left knee's strength still being suspect), I sensed a glowing from up on the ridge above me, a very bright light. As I looked up in that direction, the most beautiful mixture of pink and purple was radiating all of the trees from mid trunk up into the naked branches at the top. I looked behind me and saw that the sun, much like a toddler that gets that second wind right before bedtime, was saying, 'Not just yet!'. It had found the last gap of clear sky between the cloudbank and the northern ridge of Ivylog Mountain.
Through that gap came pouring the light, picking up where it left off before, but so much more brilliant this time. Those colors in contrast with the already shadowed forest floor gave the groundcover an eerie, colorless gray, while the pink and purple combination made the upper half of the trees appear as though they were glowing embers. The phrase "For purple mountain majesties..." in America the Beautiful is what I was seeing, right in front of me. Maybe a very expensive camera, or an operator that really knew their f-stops and shutter speeds could capture what I was seeing, but I knew I couldn't. So, I simply watched.
I stood there trying to catch my breath as I watched the colorless gray slowly move up into the treetops nearest me. This continued like a giant blanket moving up the slope claiming the lower elevations first, then the middle ridge, and finally the highest ridge above, as they bid farewell to the sun.
The dogs stood panting on the trail about fifty yards ahead, waiting patiently for me to take a few steps in their direction. This would be the signal to lunge on ahead and find something good to sniff. Now that the bright light was gone, the subtle colors of the forest came back into view...the browns, the light yellows and grays, all reclaiming their positions. A cool wind began to fill the gap where the light was. I zipped the fleece up to my neck and continued on, hoping to avoid the next progression in the daily ritual of color change.
I was in the woods on a late afternoon hike with the dogs. I have noticed that as we head into March, the after-work hikes no longer involve a double-time pace in order to get out of the woods before full darkness covers us. The angle of the sun's rays are changing, to the point that you can actually see and feel a difference. As the hike began (Miller Trek Trail, again), the sun was still dancing across the fallen leaves that make up the forest floor. The sunlight, still shining yellow down upon the trunks and the tops of the trees, was blazing brightly as I slipped into the forest.
After crossing a few streams and making my way uphill and across the powerline cut, the shadows from the still leafless trees had grown longer. With my back to the sun, I noticed that the groundcover was no longer privy to the warm glow It had been cast, just until sunrise, into the oncoming darkness. Then, I slowly realized that the bright light had faded altogether, making a gigantic leap from low-level light to the dullness of twilight.
I had climbed high enough on the ridge so that when I looked back, I could see that there was a bank of clouds hiding the sun. It was just a thin strip, but enough to block the rays from landing directly at my position. I turned and continued to head upward, deciding to allow Tobey to run off leash with his already loose companion Rocket. I struggled to keep pace with them.
After about five minutes of picking my foot falls carefully (my left knee's strength still being suspect), I sensed a glowing from up on the ridge above me, a very bright light. As I looked up in that direction, the most beautiful mixture of pink and purple was radiating all of the trees from mid trunk up into the naked branches at the top. I looked behind me and saw that the sun, much like a toddler that gets that second wind right before bedtime, was saying, 'Not just yet!'. It had found the last gap of clear sky between the cloudbank and the northern ridge of Ivylog Mountain.
Through that gap came pouring the light, picking up where it left off before, but so much more brilliant this time. Those colors in contrast with the already shadowed forest floor gave the groundcover an eerie, colorless gray, while the pink and purple combination made the upper half of the trees appear as though they were glowing embers. The phrase "For purple mountain majesties..." in America the Beautiful is what I was seeing, right in front of me. Maybe a very expensive camera, or an operator that really knew their f-stops and shutter speeds could capture what I was seeing, but I knew I couldn't. So, I simply watched.
I stood there trying to catch my breath as I watched the colorless gray slowly move up into the treetops nearest me. This continued like a giant blanket moving up the slope claiming the lower elevations first, then the middle ridge, and finally the highest ridge above, as they bid farewell to the sun.
The dogs stood panting on the trail about fifty yards ahead, waiting patiently for me to take a few steps in their direction. This would be the signal to lunge on ahead and find something good to sniff. Now that the bright light was gone, the subtle colors of the forest came back into view...the browns, the light yellows and grays, all reclaiming their positions. A cool wind began to fill the gap where the light was. I zipped the fleece up to my neck and continued on, hoping to avoid the next progression in the daily ritual of color change.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Casualty of a Dog Battle
...This time, I was out getting in a quick walk with the dogs. The roads were dry, no problem there. It was approaching darkness and I just wanted to let them stretch their legs for a bit, get some sniffs in, and take care of business. Our only obstacle to a peaceful stroll would be one of their cousins.
Over the past few months, a new dog has shown up in the 'hood; a brown shaggy-looking mutt that is very territorial of his section of road. Usually he just comes down to the edge of the yard snarling and barking. The problem is when his weiner dog brother is in the yard with him. That yappy little dachshund gives the mutt an extra dose of courage and he ends up in the road, baring his teeth while my large dogs pull forward silently, wishing that I would let 'em at this annoying duo of canine bluster.
On this particular evening, I'd had enough of their threatening charges and decided that a small rock on the backside would put an end, once and for all, of this daily harassment. I heard them coming through the woods, so I stepped into the roadside ditch to find said rock and found nothing but leaves and dirt. They were coming rapidly so I aborted my search to get back up on solid pavement for the latest face-off.
I stepped up onto the pavement with my left foot, which my dogs mistook as an invitation to lunge at their fellow canines. While the entire weight of my body was on my left leg, my right still lifting up out of the ditch, my dogs surged towards the source of irritation. The problem this time was all of the pea gravel left over from the snow events. Ironically, this material is spread to provide traction in icy conditions; when the snow and ice is gone it becomes an impediment to traction. My left foot slid forward while my body stayed behind, bending my knee joint in an unnatural backwards trajectory.
The pain was instant with white flashes showing up in my eyes. I fell on my right side while refusing to let go of the leashes. Rocket and Tobey continued forward not bothering to realize that they were dragging their beloved master, all 300 lbs of me, across the asphalt. After about ten feet they mercifully stopped allowing me to writhe and moan in a singular location. This is what I fear most, a hyper-extended knee; an injury that often ends with torn ligaments that require major surgery and a long period of inactivity.
Finally, I shook off the agony enough to remember that there were hostile dogs about that would love the opportunity to attack the throat of their enemy laying helpless on the road. I looked around, expecting to see teeth inches away from my face. Instead, the dog was just standing there about twenty feet away, looking at me curiously and not making a sound. Finally it gave a half-bark, then turned and walked away. It was almost like it wanted to make sure I wasn't hurt too bad before going back home.
I considered calling Jennifer on the cell phone to come help me get up off the road. But, I decided if I could get up that I could hobble my way back to the house. It was a long trip, but I made it without further incident. For the next few days I was certain that I did some real damage to my knee due to the pain that was not subsiding, that combined with the sensation that my knee joint felt weak and kind of floppy.
Day by day, the pain has eased and things now feel pretty much back to normal. I did discover that intense knee pain is a cure for nagging neck pain in that it made me focus on something else for a while. Warmer days are coming, hopefully no more pea gravel will need to be applied to the roads so that I can enjoy firmer footing. Brown mutt and weiner dog still come out to harass, but neither have ventured into the road anymore. Maybe they too have decided it just isn't worth all the fuss. I'm ready and eager to get back up on the steep slopes.
Over the past few months, a new dog has shown up in the 'hood; a brown shaggy-looking mutt that is very territorial of his section of road. Usually he just comes down to the edge of the yard snarling and barking. The problem is when his weiner dog brother is in the yard with him. That yappy little dachshund gives the mutt an extra dose of courage and he ends up in the road, baring his teeth while my large dogs pull forward silently, wishing that I would let 'em at this annoying duo of canine bluster.
On this particular evening, I'd had enough of their threatening charges and decided that a small rock on the backside would put an end, once and for all, of this daily harassment. I heard them coming through the woods, so I stepped into the roadside ditch to find said rock and found nothing but leaves and dirt. They were coming rapidly so I aborted my search to get back up on solid pavement for the latest face-off.
I stepped up onto the pavement with my left foot, which my dogs mistook as an invitation to lunge at their fellow canines. While the entire weight of my body was on my left leg, my right still lifting up out of the ditch, my dogs surged towards the source of irritation. The problem this time was all of the pea gravel left over from the snow events. Ironically, this material is spread to provide traction in icy conditions; when the snow and ice is gone it becomes an impediment to traction. My left foot slid forward while my body stayed behind, bending my knee joint in an unnatural backwards trajectory.
The pain was instant with white flashes showing up in my eyes. I fell on my right side while refusing to let go of the leashes. Rocket and Tobey continued forward not bothering to realize that they were dragging their beloved master, all 300 lbs of me, across the asphalt. After about ten feet they mercifully stopped allowing me to writhe and moan in a singular location. This is what I fear most, a hyper-extended knee; an injury that often ends with torn ligaments that require major surgery and a long period of inactivity.
Finally, I shook off the agony enough to remember that there were hostile dogs about that would love the opportunity to attack the throat of their enemy laying helpless on the road. I looked around, expecting to see teeth inches away from my face. Instead, the dog was just standing there about twenty feet away, looking at me curiously and not making a sound. Finally it gave a half-bark, then turned and walked away. It was almost like it wanted to make sure I wasn't hurt too bad before going back home.
I considered calling Jennifer on the cell phone to come help me get up off the road. But, I decided if I could get up that I could hobble my way back to the house. It was a long trip, but I made it without further incident. For the next few days I was certain that I did some real damage to my knee due to the pain that was not subsiding, that combined with the sensation that my knee joint felt weak and kind of floppy.
Day by day, the pain has eased and things now feel pretty much back to normal. I did discover that intense knee pain is a cure for nagging neck pain in that it made me focus on something else for a while. Warmer days are coming, hopefully no more pea gravel will need to be applied to the roads so that I can enjoy firmer footing. Brown mutt and weiner dog still come out to harass, but neither have ventured into the road anymore. Maybe they too have decided it just isn't worth all the fuss. I'm ready and eager to get back up on the steep slopes.
Bad Winter...so far.
This has not been the best winter for me. It has been a very wet season in North Georgia, particularly with rainfall. But, it has been the unusual amounts of snow that has caused me the most trouble. Living on the side of a mountain isn't the best place to be when any amount of snow has accumulated on the driving surfaces. Union County has endured at least three major events that have left me unable to enter my driveway for days at a time. I know that my Yankee friends scoff at this, but when you live in an area that may have one snow event per year that tops three inches, the local budget and equipment for snow removal is sorely lacking.
Did you know that snow can be slippery? Especially when there may be hidden objects lurking beneath the pretty white powder; maybe some pieces of lumber that were supposed to be installed last summer as a trellis for my Rasberry bush?
Around December 13 we had snow on the ground when it became my job to hike down and around a retaining wall to check the level in the liquid propane tank. The snow wasn't terribly deep, around three or four inches and it seemed harmless enough to plod on down the hill and.....
I was on the ground before I knew what had happened. The last thing I saw were my feet pointing up to where the trees limbs hung. While in the act of walking, you should never be able to look up and see the tops of your shoes. I landed flat on my back, which protested with cracking sounds that ran up my vertebrae. A split second later, my head whipped back and did not nestle gently into the snow. It made a resounding thump as it discovered the leaves and twigs that are normally exposed on the ground. The whole episode sounded like the cartoon noise we are all so familiar with when Wiley Coyote, Yogi the Bear, or Scooby and Shaggy hit the ground hard. That sound is remarkably true to life. It is the sound of flesh and cartilage and bone hitting the earth, combined with the grunt and rush of air that leaves the lungs....all at the same time.
As usual, when I fall, I try to get back up as quickly as possible. This reaction is a combination of proving to myself that the injury is not great, and to prevent anyone seeing me laid out uncontrollably prone. I got up, brushed off the wet and cold snow and spied the lumber that did me in. Before taking another step, I flung it into the treeline so as to prevent other such episodes. I continued my journey, checked the propane level (less than 5%...shit) and went on about my business.
It wasn't until the next night at bedtime, when I went to lay my large head down onto the pillow, that the sensation of damage to my neck came rushing into reality. It was like my head was too heavy for my neck muscles to support. I had to take my hands and hold the back of my neck for extra support on the way down, and the same thing in the morning as I attempt to rise up from my slumber. This went on for a few days until the pain migrated behind my left shoulder blade, up the left side of my backstrap, into my neck and up behind my left ear. Nagging, nagging, nagging pain for weeks...until I found myself on the ground again about 6 weeks later...to be continued.
Did you know that snow can be slippery? Especially when there may be hidden objects lurking beneath the pretty white powder; maybe some pieces of lumber that were supposed to be installed last summer as a trellis for my Rasberry bush?
Around December 13 we had snow on the ground when it became my job to hike down and around a retaining wall to check the level in the liquid propane tank. The snow wasn't terribly deep, around three or four inches and it seemed harmless enough to plod on down the hill and.....
I was on the ground before I knew what had happened. The last thing I saw were my feet pointing up to where the trees limbs hung. While in the act of walking, you should never be able to look up and see the tops of your shoes. I landed flat on my back, which protested with cracking sounds that ran up my vertebrae. A split second later, my head whipped back and did not nestle gently into the snow. It made a resounding thump as it discovered the leaves and twigs that are normally exposed on the ground. The whole episode sounded like the cartoon noise we are all so familiar with when Wiley Coyote, Yogi the Bear, or Scooby and Shaggy hit the ground hard. That sound is remarkably true to life. It is the sound of flesh and cartilage and bone hitting the earth, combined with the grunt and rush of air that leaves the lungs....all at the same time.
As usual, when I fall, I try to get back up as quickly as possible. This reaction is a combination of proving to myself that the injury is not great, and to prevent anyone seeing me laid out uncontrollably prone. I got up, brushed off the wet and cold snow and spied the lumber that did me in. Before taking another step, I flung it into the treeline so as to prevent other such episodes. I continued my journey, checked the propane level (less than 5%...shit) and went on about my business.
It wasn't until the next night at bedtime, when I went to lay my large head down onto the pillow, that the sensation of damage to my neck came rushing into reality. It was like my head was too heavy for my neck muscles to support. I had to take my hands and hold the back of my neck for extra support on the way down, and the same thing in the morning as I attempt to rise up from my slumber. This went on for a few days until the pain migrated behind my left shoulder blade, up the left side of my backstrap, into my neck and up behind my left ear. Nagging, nagging, nagging pain for weeks...until I found myself on the ground again about 6 weeks later...to be continued.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Birding in 2010
2010 ended up being a pretty good year for adding birds to my list. In January I added the Song Sparrow and Red-bellied Woodpecker.
A February trip to the Alabama coast found me spotting a Cedar Waxwing and a Royal Tern at Dauphin Island and Fort Morgan, respectively. In Spanish Fort, AL a Boat-tailed Grackle was seen perching on the reeds next to Ed's Seafood on the Battleship Parkway. I really expected to add more species during this trip, but forgetfulness got the best of me. During a day trip from Mobile to Dauphin Island, across Mobile Bay on the ferry, and a drive through the Bon Secour Wildlife Area, I discovered that I left my binoculars and bird book where I was staying in Mobile. I will make a return trip to this area and it's wonderful Alabama Coastal Birding Trail stops.
In between the Alabama trip and a May visit to Washington, D.C. (where a Ring-billed Gull was seen at the U.S. Capitol reflection pool), I spotted a Yellow-rumped Warbler at the Augusta Canal, and made acquaintance with a Great Horned Owl that I have been hearing for months in the woods near my home. Also spotted here in North GA was a Northern Flicker (yellow shafted variety), a Brown-headed Cowbird and a House Finch.
My greatest haul occurred during an August trip to Hunting Island and Pinckney Island Wildlife Refuge in coastal SC. At Hunting Island I spotted a Black Skimmer, Willet, Tri-colored Heron, Sandwich Tern, and Ruddy Turnstone. Pinckney Island sightings included a White Ibis (or hundred), Common Moorhen, Wood Duck, Pied-billed Grebe, Wood Stork, Black-crowned Night Heron and American Bittern. Pinckney Island is a fantastic place to bird watch, but it was damn hot! I strongly recommend taking a bicycle, an ample supply of water, and sunscreen.
After that trip, almost four months of nothing new until a snow storm in December brought a Pine Siskin and a Purple Finch to my deck to munch on some sunflower seeds. My final sighting for 2010 goes to a Northern Harrier spotted near Washington, GA, swooping and gliding along a pine forest near Hwy 17. The white patch above its tail gave it away.
All of that made for a total of 26 birds for 2010.
I already have 2011 kicked off by sighting a Red-tailed Hawk munching on some varmint by the side of Hwy 180 near Vogel State Park (GA). I can't believe it has taken me a year and a half to finally spot one. This brings my list total to 66 birds since May 2009.
A February trip to the Alabama coast found me spotting a Cedar Waxwing and a Royal Tern at Dauphin Island and Fort Morgan, respectively. In Spanish Fort, AL a Boat-tailed Grackle was seen perching on the reeds next to Ed's Seafood on the Battleship Parkway. I really expected to add more species during this trip, but forgetfulness got the best of me. During a day trip from Mobile to Dauphin Island, across Mobile Bay on the ferry, and a drive through the Bon Secour Wildlife Area, I discovered that I left my binoculars and bird book where I was staying in Mobile. I will make a return trip to this area and it's wonderful Alabama Coastal Birding Trail stops.
In between the Alabama trip and a May visit to Washington, D.C. (where a Ring-billed Gull was seen at the U.S. Capitol reflection pool), I spotted a Yellow-rumped Warbler at the Augusta Canal, and made acquaintance with a Great Horned Owl that I have been hearing for months in the woods near my home. Also spotted here in North GA was a Northern Flicker (yellow shafted variety), a Brown-headed Cowbird and a House Finch.
My greatest haul occurred during an August trip to Hunting Island and Pinckney Island Wildlife Refuge in coastal SC. At Hunting Island I spotted a Black Skimmer, Willet, Tri-colored Heron, Sandwich Tern, and Ruddy Turnstone. Pinckney Island sightings included a White Ibis (or hundred), Common Moorhen, Wood Duck, Pied-billed Grebe, Wood Stork, Black-crowned Night Heron and American Bittern. Pinckney Island is a fantastic place to bird watch, but it was damn hot! I strongly recommend taking a bicycle, an ample supply of water, and sunscreen.
After that trip, almost four months of nothing new until a snow storm in December brought a Pine Siskin and a Purple Finch to my deck to munch on some sunflower seeds. My final sighting for 2010 goes to a Northern Harrier spotted near Washington, GA, swooping and gliding along a pine forest near Hwy 17. The white patch above its tail gave it away.
All of that made for a total of 26 birds for 2010.
I already have 2011 kicked off by sighting a Red-tailed Hawk munching on some varmint by the side of Hwy 180 near Vogel State Park (GA). I can't believe it has taken me a year and a half to finally spot one. This brings my list total to 66 birds since May 2009.
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