The rush of a busy day of birding in the the sunshine is fleeting at best. My mood today mirrors the overcast stormy weather. The hangover from yesterday's birding high has set in. Ammodramus and the Moon feel imagined and distant. And who knew last night's moon was a dress rehearsal for the Harvest Moon...more on that in a moment...
I would have thought my body would insist on rest by the time 4 o'clock arrived early yesterday evening. But I seemed to have been riding high on adrenaline when I promptly decided to brave rush hour traffic and drive to Lake Barney in southern Dane county in search of orange sparrows, genus Ammodramus. Both LeConte's and Nelson's have been repeatedly reported here in recent weeks. I had already seen Nelson's this year, but the view was unsatisfying leaving me wanting more. In addition, both species are quite stunning birds to behold in their adult plumage and are known to be crepuscular. So timing on all accounts seemed fortuitous. Early eve in early October, how could I go wrong?
Le Conte's and Nelson's are considered uncommon in southern Wisconsin. Windows of opportunity to photograph these species often seem quite limited. Hence I place them in the category of "difficult-to-photograph" per their relative rare occurrence as well as their skulking behavior.
I have experienced success in photographing both species in the past. However, I am ever looking for the challenge to improve my existing images of these sparrows. But yesterday would not be that day. While I did find both species, they were expectedly difficult to photograph. And even though the sparrows were reportedly seen near the fence line closer to the parking area, per the usual I did not encounter either species until I was deep in the "back forty" among the grasses and weeds growing above my head and in the ankle-high water hidden beneath the dense reed canary grass.
Lake Barney birding is the antithesis of geri-birding. It has all the makings for busting an ankle. The terrain is uneven and the ground is often not visible, ladened with mammal-made trenches and "manholes" hidden deep within the grasses. There are plenty of opportunities for wet feet too if you come unprepared. I knew better and wore my waterproof hikers. Traversing the dense tall grass can be a bit physically challenging which provides a great workout for a short-statured person like myself. Navigating the grass requires a particular method of walking: lift one leg high, forward and swing out to spread the grass apart. Switch legs, repeat, lift high and swing.
I successfully located a single Le Conte's and at least two Nelson's Sparrows. The Le Conte's was a scruffy young-looking bird that I struggled to view through the swaying and towering prairie grass. It most certainly was not a high quality representation of the beauty of this species.
The Nelson's were a bit more cooperative. But none crushed my vision like former encounters when I happened upon them by chance. There is definitely some wisdom to be realized in the captivating awe of experiences that are the least planned, be it in nature or human exchanges. These are the bursts of light, the most golden of moments in the darkness of life, the bearable and necessary lightness of being. Like when a Nelson's or Le Conte's Sparrow pops up in the open within feet of you, melting your face off and you are on your game to capture the moment.
Or like the moon last night: serendipitous, brilliant, uplifting, larger than life. I was intensely navigating the dense grasses and weeds, onward toward my car, up in my head, thinking in silent conversations, debriefing, intermittently brooding, when some unknown force beckoned me to look back to the east. And there she was. It was as if she had tapped my shoulder, pulling me out of that stinkin' thinkin'. She was captivating and magical.
Had I known last night's moon was a precursor to her rare "Harvest" form, perhaps I would have honored the experience with greater reverence. Then again in many ways I did. How could I not honor such a glorious orb? But because I did not seize the moment by digiscoping her, I feel I did not give her prelude to the Harvest the justice it deserved. Nevertheless her first few rising moments were fabulous.
It was not until later today that I realized last night had been on the cusp of the Harvest Moon. Bucking this age of pervasive information will do that. In my increasingly insulated existence, I miss things. But it's mostly noise and not to be fretted. The spontaneity of the encounter heightened my sense of awe in witnessing the moon's brilliance last night. It happened without the assist of the internet, TV or any other form of information. It was perfection as it should be.
I wanted to linger in the moment, but the day was growing long. So I turned my back to the moon's brilliance making my way toward the exit thinking, "that's no man in the moon, but rather a majestic woman, the goddess of the moon, Artemis." She is my spirit, my namesake, Cynthia.
Of course in learning of the Harvest Moon, I went looking for her again this evening to no avail . She was shrouded in clouds, nowhere to be seen.
Though invisible, her lessons resound:
Truly there are NO do-overs.
I would have thought my body would insist on rest by the time 4 o'clock arrived early yesterday evening. But I seemed to have been riding high on adrenaline when I promptly decided to brave rush hour traffic and drive to Lake Barney in southern Dane county in search of orange sparrows, genus Ammodramus. Both LeConte's and Nelson's have been repeatedly reported here in recent weeks. I had already seen Nelson's this year, but the view was unsatisfying leaving me wanting more. In addition, both species are quite stunning birds to behold in their adult plumage and are known to be crepuscular. So timing on all accounts seemed fortuitous. Early eve in early October, how could I go wrong?
Le Conte's and Nelson's are considered uncommon in southern Wisconsin. Windows of opportunity to photograph these species often seem quite limited. Hence I place them in the category of "difficult-to-photograph" per their relative rare occurrence as well as their skulking behavior.
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| Nelson's Sparrow, Lake Barney, Dane Co, WI 4Oct2017 |
Lake Barney birding is the antithesis of geri-birding. It has all the makings for busting an ankle. The terrain is uneven and the ground is often not visible, ladened with mammal-made trenches and "manholes" hidden deep within the grasses. There are plenty of opportunities for wet feet too if you come unprepared. I knew better and wore my waterproof hikers. Traversing the dense tall grass can be a bit physically challenging which provides a great workout for a short-statured person like myself. Navigating the grass requires a particular method of walking: lift one leg high, forward and swing out to spread the grass apart. Switch legs, repeat, lift high and swing.
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| Le Conte's Sparrow, Lake Barney, Dane Co, WI 4Oct2017 |
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| Smartweed of which was nearly nonexistent at Lake Barney this year due high water and an abundance of reed canary grass. The seeds of smartweed are an important food source in fall for Nelson's Sparrow. |
Or like the moon last night: serendipitous, brilliant, uplifting, larger than life. I was intensely navigating the dense grasses and weeds, onward toward my car, up in my head, thinking in silent conversations, debriefing, intermittently brooding, when some unknown force beckoned me to look back to the east. And there she was. It was as if she had tapped my shoulder, pulling me out of that stinkin' thinkin'. She was captivating and magical.
 |
| Prelude to the Harvest Moon, Lake Barney, Dane Co, WI 4Oct2017 |
It was not until later today that I realized last night had been on the cusp of the Harvest Moon. Bucking this age of pervasive information will do that. In my increasingly insulated existence, I miss things. But it's mostly noise and not to be fretted. The spontaneity of the encounter heightened my sense of awe in witnessing the moon's brilliance last night. It happened without the assist of the internet, TV or any other form of information. It was perfection as it should be.
I wanted to linger in the moment, but the day was growing long. So I turned my back to the moon's brilliance making my way toward the exit thinking, "that's no man in the moon, but rather a majestic woman, the goddess of the moon, Artemis." She is my spirit, my namesake, Cynthia.
Of course in learning of the Harvest Moon, I went looking for her again this evening to no avail . She was shrouded in clouds, nowhere to be seen.
Though invisible, her lessons resound:
Truly there are NO do-overs.
Moreover, some things are simply not meant to be no matter how intensely I may orchestrate my quest for them. In due time, those entities which ARE meant for me will find me just as the moon did last night.
Until then, I need to stop looking back.
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| A curious Sedge Wren that accompanied me on my exit Lake Barney, Dane Co, WI 4Oct2017 |
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