My stepson -- who I will refer to here as "Boy" -- is 15 and is having the kind of troubles in school many of us are familiar with: bullies, girls, fitting in. He also gets the most enjoyment out of electronic games, which were only a brief diversion for me "back in the day" and at whose modern manifestations I am hopelessly inept.
Back in April I took Boy down to the Stronghold, for the long hike on Hollow Man Road. He surprised me with his stamina, and was awed by the great silence of the Swamp, broken only by the voices of birds and of the wind in the trees. We paused about a half mile in, so that I could let him watch some of the Cornell video, and to have a listen to the old audio of the Ivorybill. Nothing like hearing those recorded kent-calls in true Ivorybill habitat. He seemed a bit awed.
Back in April I took Boy down to the Stronghold, for the long hike on Hollow Man Road. He surprised me with his stamina, and was awed by the great silence of the Swamp, broken only by the voices of birds and of the wind in the trees. We paused about a half mile in, so that I could let him watch some of the Cornell video, and to have a listen to the old audio of the Ivorybill. Nothing like hearing those recorded kent-calls in true Ivorybill habitat. He seemed a bit awed.
Hollow Man was open for a visit.
Hollow Man Lake, where I spied my first swallow-tailed kite of the year as it wheeled above the nearby River.
Last leg of the trail: to Elephant Man Swamp.
Looking north from Elephant Man Swamp. The Lord God Tree is well hidden by foliage now, as he prefers.
End of the trail: Elephant Man Swamp.
Not sure what flowers these are. They were on a large shrub or small tree at the field's edge.
Now I'd like to share with you some words from our friend Dean Hurliman of Iowa. Dean had requested this be shared in a comment on the last post, but they are deserving of a more visible location within the main body.
There will be no Blue Fairy with a transforming wand
for the Hurliman IBWs, no Jiminy Cricket to befriend them. And
yet...if Brian and Chris were to show me their photos and say:
"Come see the Ivory-Bills we've found
Where the ancient Cypress grow."
I should go with them through the swamp
Hoping it might be so.
Dean S. Hurliman
P.S. Thanks to Thomas Hardy's poem "The Oxen".
I hope to take the 'yak out tomorrow for a visit to mighty Hutson Lake, the grand old oxbow commanding the north end of the Stronghold. Meanwhile, the rains are here today, polishing the new green leaves among which big birds may easily hide from prying eyes.
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