Excursion: East Tiger Creek, 16 June 2014

On 22 April of this year, I recorded some audio in the Tiger Creek area of DeSoto National Forest.  My secretary and I were birding together that afternoon (stalking warblers, specifically), when I heard a bird I did not recognize.  We were near East Tiger Creek, a tributary of Bogue Homa Creek, which flows eventually into the Leaf River, which in its turn empties into the Pascagoula.  (Incidentally, the Bogue Homa flows from a lake of the same name, an area for which I have an eyewitness report of Ivory Bill, albeit a questionable one.)  The area we were in was bottomland hardwood and pines, surrounded by both mature upland longleaf and a small tract of slash pine.  The bottoms around East Tiger Creek -- I suppose I should specify that it was not West Tiger Creek, nor simply Tiger Creek, but East Tiger Creek.  All three join together some miles to the south, and none are terribly large, for creeks, anyway.
     As I was saying, the bottoms in and about East Tiger Creek are primarily magnolia, sweetbay, maple, American holly, some beech, an occasional cypress, and pines.  This area was hard hit by Hurricane Katrina, and there are still many downed trees as evidence, making the already difficult terrain even more so.  When the trees fell, they left many open areas that have since grown up into wild, brambly thickets, rife with greenbriar and blackberry and other (generally thorny) plants.  Susanne and I had been birding from a bridge over East Tiger Creek, when I heard a bird I suspected might be a blue jay, but couldn't be sure.

I have since decided that it was probably a blue jay.  It was calling to another one farther up the forest road, to the north, and the replies cannot really be heard on the clip.  I am still not 100% sure that it was a blue jay; and the calls were different enough to make my heart beat a little faster.  Now let me say:  I have hiked, hunted, and birded woods here in the Pine Belt since I was ten.  I know a blue jay when I hear one.  This may have been a blue jay; or the kient-like calls we heard may have been a raptor of some kind.  I sent the audio to Dr. Jerome Jackson, probably the world expert on Ivory-billed Woodpeckers, who kindly took a listen.  He suggested that what I had heard may have been a young, fledgling woodpecker, or a tree frog.  I don't think it is either one, but it is, likely, only a blue jay.
     I guess.
     Now that is not the only time I have been brought up short by an unknown bird in this area.  Twice now this year, at the Tall Pines Trail a few miles north of the East Tiger Creek bridge, I have seen and heard large birds that I could not identify.  Both incidents are so seemingly trivial as to be almost unworthy of mention, but they continue to play over and over again in my brain.  Which is why, on 16 June (this past Monday), I returned to the bridge over East Tiger Creek, and this time I ploughed into the wild tangle where Susanne and I had heard the calls that day back in April, to see what could be seen.
     It was hot, and despite a Deet drenching of possibly toxic levels, there were Bugs.  I used the occasion to test the MosquitNo, a citronella wristband that is supposed to be very effective in repelling insects:

I did not notice that it was particularly effective in anything, except maybe to state that I was trying to raise some kind of social awareness.  To make matters worse, I had fought my way over a hundred yards into the thickets before I realized I had left my binoculars in the truck.  This is bad enough -- anathema, even -- for a birder; but for a King Pellinore hunting the Questing Bird, it was an immeasurably abysmal personal slip.  I considered (briefly) turning back to get them:  but that was A Bridge Too Far, so to speak, and decided instead to limit my exploration to an hour or so.  Recalling my map of the area from the DeLorme Atlas and Gazeteer, I would make for where the East Tiger Creek joined with Tiger Creek, which looked to be only a couple of miles away.  And after all, I still had my camera.
     Luckily, there was little need for binoculars.  I only saw 1 small bird that was too far away to identify, but got a decent look at a female Prothonotary Warbler, and a male Hooded Warbler in rapid flight near my head.  The most interesting subjects there, at that time, were the trees, beginning with this fellow most specially:

A large woodpecker nest cavity in a living ash or beech (I am not sure) directly over Tiger Creek.  Note the snag above the cavity, similar in placement to the snag in this photo, though farther up the trunk:

I only point out the snag, and its position relative to the nest cavity, because Tanner says:

This makes twelve reported species of trees in which Ivory-bills have nested... The first nest described by Allen and Kellogg (1937) was in the dead top of a partly live red maple, with the entrance 43 feet from the ground and facing north, directly underneath a small broken stub... the second was in a large dead oak stub... below the bases of broken off branches...

Audubon (1831) stated that the Ivory-bill carefully chose its nest site for protection from rain, digging below a sheltering limb... (The Ivory-Billed Woodpecker, Chapter 13, p. 69:  "Nest Building and the Nest.")
     

     I do not have measurements for the cavity, but its large size and location in a living tree are intriguing.  It was, however, not more than 25-30 feet up from the ground, which would put it at the extreme low end of average Ivory-bill nest heights which could be up to 70 feet, he says.  There is scoring to the bark above and to the left of the cavity, and apparently some damage or rot to the top of the entrance.  Concerning the shape of the cavity, Tanner goes on to say:

     Audubon (1831) and Thompson (1885) described the entrance hole to an Ivory-bill nest as being round, but the nests described by several other writers and all those I have seen have had oval or irregular entrances.  The holes that I have examined in the Singer Tract varied from oval through egg-shaped to nearly triangular...The smallest recorded hole measured 3 1/2 inches (Scott, 1888), the largest, the 1937 nest in the Singer Tract, was 4 3/4 by  5 3/4 inches, and the most enlongate measured 3 1/4 by 6 3/4 inches (R. D. Hoyt).
     For comparison, the entrance holes of Pileated Woodpecker nests are described by Bendire (1895) to be from 3 to 3 1/2 inches in diameter... (69-70).

This area had several groves of mature white oak and magnolia, and there were squirrels actively feeding while I was there.  Signs of woodpecker feeding activity were plentiful, including evidence of a powerful bill at work:

This pine had its top removed by a tornado, probably:

I think it had died in the years since Katrina.  There is the telltale sign of a lightning strike:

Regardless, the wood-boring insects are hard at work on it, as shown by the powdering of sawdust about the tree's base:

And woodpeckers have been at work, as well:

As I have said before, the terrain is very difficult, and it is nearly impossible to move in those woods quietly.

Despite the rough going, Tiger Creek has some areas of serene beauty:

All that remains of a stump:

The trunk lay nearby.  The area is a wash that is probably covered with water during the rains of early Spring:

It, too, showed signs of Order Piciformes:

I suspect these trees came down during Katrina:

Rot and fire damage to a living pine:

The pine in question, probably dying:

Another view of the mixed bottomland forest canopy:

After over two hours, I had not found the junction of Tiger and East Tiger Creeks.  It was getting hot, I was getting tired, and I knew I had to be home in time to get ready to go to work later that afternoon.  I set off eastward, away from the creek, a course that took me straight through a nearby stand of youngish slash pine. Even there, I found much evidence of woodpecker activity, though I do not doubt it was the work of Br'er Pileated, as I have observed them before working on saplings such as this one:

In summary, short and relatively birdless as the excursion was, it was not without merit.  My eyes are becoming attuned to spotting woodpecker sign, which I now see in more places than ever before.  This part of the Tiger Creek drainage area, while quite small, links directly to the greater riparian highways of southeast Mississippi, culminating in that river of my hopes, the Pascagoula.  The problem I seem to be developing is one of a lack of reference material.  There are precious few images illustrating Ivory Bill's bark-peeling activity, and I feel that much of the time I may only be witnessing the work of Dryocopus pileatus.  However, I have a plan that may remedy that, which I will discuss in a later post.

Excursion: Kingdom of DeSoto, 11 June 2014

I am lucky enough to live within 15-20 minutes of one of the largest tracts of pine forest in the entire Southeast; and, more specifically, to a nice 3-mile trail that affords me views of upland pine forest, mixed bottomland hardwoods, thickets, and a couple of nice ponds, one of which is home to a couple of pairs of wood ducks.  Some mornings, when I do not have to be at my "regular" job until later, I can be in these woods at dawn, and be back home in time for a good breakfast and to knock out a few chores.  This past Wednesday was such a day, and was moreover bright and fresh after a cool front moved through the night before.

Only a couple of hundred yards from the trailhead, I spotted this pine, which I had never really paid attention to before (even though I've probably hiked this trail a dozen times):

This pine was either fire-killed or killed by beetle infestation, I think; it did not bear the telltale sign of lightning strike, a narrow line bare of bark running up the length of the tree.  I do not see any drilling in this tree, which is a sure sign of nearly every woodpecker species that haunts these woods, including the Red-cockaded.  There is a line of very large mixed bottomland forest about three hundred yards on down the trail, which contains a significant number of dead pines of impressive size, and where I have observed pileateds feeding on several occasions.

Besides this, the only other item of interest that day was this fellow, who graciously allowed me to not only photograph him, but to dig out my Peterson's guide to identify his species.  Any sparrows beyond the White-throated, White-crowned, and Fox, are problematic.

Field Sparrow.

Expedition: Herman Murrah Preserve, 9 June 2014

IBWOH's:  Richard Ezell, Brian Carlisle, Christopher Carlisle

Summary:  We began the hunt by meeting at the Dollar General store in McLain, MS, where we left two of our vehicles.  Taking Brian's Tundra, we headed south on Mississippi Highway 57, past the Leaf Wilderness which Brian and I had explored in May.  We passed the Nature Conservancy's Fisher and Murrah Preserves, and after some exploring around the Merrill Bridge near the Pascagoula headwaters (where I saw my first ever Northern Parula), we backtracked and parked at the locked gate at the Murrah, which is nearest the Pascagoula.  Our hope was to find some good timber nearer the river that might show signs of IBWO feeding activity, or perhaps even hear something encouraging.

Morning on the Merrill Bridge. 

View from the bridge.  The Pascagoula is about 20-30 yards to the left; some private property to the immediate right.

The Way is shut.  (To vehicle traffic.)

Beyond the gate, the single-lane vehicle track extends southward several miles, through some cutover land and a large swathe of mostly young hardwoods, which I imagined would be buzzing with warbler and vireo activity during Spring migration.  As it was, Brian spotted an American Redstart, which was doing some flycatching up in a small tree.  It was another species first for me to add to the Life List.  Eventually, thankfully, the road forked; and just off to the left, we found an old oxbow lake, surrounded by old cypress, gum, and tupelo.  There was an aluminum boat moored near a crude landing; and while Brian and Richard cut poles to get across the lake, I continued on through the mud around the southern end.  The trees, while not as big as Treebeard back in the Leaf Wilderness, were of impressive size and very, very beautiful.  No tree symbolizes the Southern wild to me more than the mighty cypress.

We met on the east side of the lake, and continued onward over a mile through some difficult terrain.  The woods between the lake and the River were older, and more favorable in my opinion to Ivory Bill and woodpeckers in general.  There were many dead and dying snags, in addition to downed timber that showed signs of woodpecker feeding activity.  There were many large sycamores in addition to the oaks, gums, cypress, and tupelo.  Nearer the River, the going got easier, and even pleasant, as swampy thickets gave way to open understory, thanks to enormous quantities of sand the River had dumped there during flood stages of years past.   We found a rat snake and at least one water moccasin; and it was in this area that we encountered a wild hog with at least three piglets, headed away from us with a grunt, towards the Pascagoula.

Dead snag showing signs of woodpecker feeding activity.

 Pascagoula River, looking south.

 Looking directly across from the "cut," or bend, towards a sand bar on the eastern bank.

 Looking north.  Merrill Bridge is somewhere beyond the bend.

Turning back west towards the lake, Richard discovered a dead cypress showing signs of woodpecker activity, and possible bark peeling.  Cypress is a very hard wood, even when dead for a while, and so only a very powerful beak could inflict this kind of damage, in my opinion; certainly, at least that of Dryocopus pileatus.

Marks near top left seem indicative of peeling.

The slog back was very hot and tiring.  We saw another redstart at one point.  Coming back upon the northern end of the lake, we found another boat, but returned to the original, and this time I crossed the lake with my companions.

Downed tree trunk showing woodpecker work, possibly after it fell. 

Dead sycamore showing woodpecker drilling, with a poison ivy vine as a bonus. 

We rudely awakened this fellow from his nap near the lake's north end.

 Ensign Carlisle navigates us towards the landing, coming in at .35.

Conclusions:  The most promising habitat for Ivory Bill was around the lake, and between the lake and the River.  The bulk of the Murrah Preserve looked too young to support IBWO feeding habits, and though I did note some woodpecker feeding activity on small dead snags in the younger woods, I suspect it was Dryocopus pileatus, which I have observed on more than one occasion working on small dead trees no bigger around than my arm, or smaller.  The Fisher Preserve, to the west of the Murrah, suggests it may be composed mainly of the same younger stands of hardwoods; I will reserve judgment until such time as I can investigate, but my gut feeling is that the larger timber lies to the east, closer to and along the Pascagoula.

The difficulty in any search for Campephilus principalis during the warmer months really hit home.  The heat and humidity were impossible to ignore, though under the deeper forest canopy and near the River, this was mitigated somewhat.  The worst of the insects were the biting flies, but I had no trouble at all from mosquitoes or ticks, or chiggers.  The presence of venomous snakes weighed on our minds constantly, and though we only spotted a couple of moccasins, I suspect there were three or four times as many that went undetected.  The leafy canopy prevented us from gaining many decent aerial views.  However, all that being said, I believe excursions such as this to be invaluable later in planning IBWO searches during the cooler months, when valuable time need not be wasted in scouting for suitable locales.  The IBWOH's and I will continue to do so, as we are able, during the summer months.