Smells Like IBWO Out There

Autumn generally comes a bit later to the Deep South than to the rest of the country, and this year was no exception.  We had several nights below freezing a week or so ago here in south Mississippi, finally sending the maples into firegold.  The big poplar at the back of my lot dropped most of its leaves in shock, and the cypresses in the little grove I planted nearby now stand rust against the neighbor's bamboo forest.

Wonderful personal news:  IBWO-1 is back in service.  I will retrieve it from the mechanic tomorrow, having been without it for fully four weeks.  Thanks to my Mom for the use of her car, which I enter and exit like a spider in and out of its tunnel; and for the use of her money, without which I could not have met the expense, which was considerable.  Hopefully, we will be able to return to the Pascagoula WMA once or twice to search before the New Year turns.  Dace Lake, I have my eye on you.

In what is undoubtedly the biggest Ivorybill news lately, Project Coyote is returning to the field on Thanksgiving Day to continue the search in Louisiana.  Mark and Frank feel they are very, very close, so keep checking the Project Coyote site and their Facebook page for updates later this month and in December.  I know I am not alone in wishing them success.  I am not sure, but Project Coyote may be the longest-running continuous Ivorybill search effort going these days, and their methods reflect those years of refinement.  If anyone can find the Ivorybill, I believe it is their team.  Good luck, guys.

For myself, my backpack sits at the ready, and fresh batteries lie beside my battered camera.  I have nearly finished Hoose's The Race to Save the Lord God Bird, which I thankfully found in my local library.  It has helped to pass these days when I could not walk the bottomland, trying to simultaneously watch the treetops for big woodpeckers, the space in front of me for spiderwebs, and the ground for snakes.  The book holds a wealth of information, and Hoose's prose is easy on the brain, though I am at odds with the overall tone of the book.  I find his lack of faith disturbing.

IBWO-1 Down Again... for a while...

Looks like the repair shop did the equivalent of placing a Band-Aid on a stab wound.  Much more extensive, and expensive, repair work is in order before IBWO-1 can take me back to Ivorybill territory.  Perhaps a break from the search would be no bad thing, especially during these next weeks of deer season in Mississippi.  Besides, there is much that needs tending to around my house, things that have been a bit neglected in the past few months of my search; and there are holidays upon us as well.  Oh, and I am getting married in December.  So, a busy time.

But I do chomp at the bit on these cool autumn mornings, and wonder about the sounds and shadows in the bottomlands.

IBWO-1 Up!

Got the call from the mechanics today... not the starter, but the ignition switch.  I should have my own ride again in a day or two.  YES!!!

Not sure when I'll be able to get back into the field, though...

An Important Edit

Recently I was made aware of some impressions my post "Confessions of an IBWOH:  1. Thrushes, Thrashers, and the Silent Sky" made -- impressions I in no way intended.  I would like to take the opportunity to apologize to any who may have taken offense, and would like them to know that I have gone back and edited my original post.  I hope the edit will make my meaning more clear.  I also want to thank those who voiced their criticim constructively.  They were well-founded opinions, and much appreciated.

IBWO-1 Down

I think the starter has gone out on my Nissan Frontier.  Looks like I'm grounded for the time being.

Close Survey: Stalking Big Sam: The Land South of Hutson Lake, Pascagoula WMA, 23 October 2014

IBWOH:  Chris Carlisle.

Summary:  South of Hutson Lake, an oxbow in the north end of the Pascagoula WMA, lies a smaller, V-shaped lake that my companions and I have somehow managed to completely miss in our surveys of the area.  Having discovered an old logging road there via Google Earth, I determined to walk the road to the lake, then walk around it through the trackless bottomland, making my way cross-country back to the familiar trail.

I started rather later than I would have liked, and so was not on the trail itself until shortly after 7 a.m., barely beating the sunrise.

On this survey, I decided to make some short videos as I went, which I hope will add a little variety to the blog and give the curious a better idea about the lay of the land, and getting about in this remote place.

Turning down the unexplored old logging road, I found myself walking in bottomland hardwood forest typical for this area, and found a nice, small woodpecker cavity in a living oak tree:

The trail ended soon enough at a field, recently cut like the others.  Beyond it lay the small lake I'd found on my Google Earth map.  I bore westward, around the north end of the lake, and soon found myself in a series of sloughs in various stages of dryness.

Continuing west-southwest, I had to bring out the machete and hack my way through briars and vines.  In a big mud puddle, I found some baby catfish:

A number of large oaks grew in that area, including this one with a very large, oval-shaped cavity, one of the biggest cavities of its type that I've seen in a live tree of any kind:

Trying to maneuver into a better position to see the cavity, I was startled by a series of unusually loud knocks on an oak tree several yards away.  Making my way as quietly as possible through the tangle, I finally saw an extremely large woodpecker, working on a high bough.  The bird was difficult to see in the shade; adding to the difficulty, I faced east, with the full glare of the sun in my eyes.  Naturally, I held my machete in one hand and my walking stick in the other.  By the time I had fumbled my binoculars into my hands, the big woodpecker had flapped off in the direction of the opposite shore of the lake.  I could not make out the markings of a pileated, and it looked to be bigger than any pileated woodpecker I have ever seen, adding to my uncertainty.

I continued on among the wooded sloughs.  At the end of one, I found this:

Not sure what kind of equipment this is.  It looked to be an old sluice that controlled the water level in the adjoining slough.  Not long after photographing it, I again heard the loud rapping, and quickly moved on.

This time, I could not locate the bird.  A quick snack, and I moved forward again, keeping the lake to my left as I moved south.

The strip of land between the River and the lake is quite narrow, for I was among the oaks at the south end of the lake after a brief hike.  I found an old tree stand there, its canopy in tatters, though its ladder and frame were still in good shape:

Not far beyond, I once again encountered the loud knocks of a big woodpecker at work.

I was able to actually identify the bird this time.  It was a pileated woodpecker, but the biggest pileated I've ever seen.  It must be an old bird; I would imagine the oak cavity I photographed is one of its roost holes.  I was not able to determine its sex, so I named it Big Sam, which allows for some gender ambiguity.  I never saw it fly off.  I continued eastward until I reached a familiar stretch of one of the old logging roads, and made my way back to IBWO-1.

Conclusions:  No kents, although it is still early in the season.  No double-knocks.  No bark peeling of any kind, although visibility is still limited by foliage.  I would like to return to this area, if for no other reason than to photograph Big Sam.

I did drive farther south, and re-crossed the River on the Wade-Vancleave Road, but was unimpressed with the quality of habitat there, which was mostly pines.  Houseboats line the banks of Pascagoula, at least along the stretch visible from the bridge.

Next time I am in the Pascagoula WMA, I will wear blaze orange.

UPDATE to 'The Way Is Shut': Brian Carlisle Photography

My brother Brian Carlisle has updated his photoblog with images from our last excursion, to the Rimes Lakes area and McRae Dead River.