"...the ornithologists still had serious doubts. Sutton finally put it directly: 'Mr. Spencer, you're sure the bird you're telling us about isn't the big pileated woodpecker?'

"Spencer exploded. 'Man alive! These birds I'm tellin' you all about is kints!' he shouted in their faces. 'Why, the pileated woodpecker's just a little bird about as big as that.' He held his fingers a few inches apart. 'A kint's as big as that!' he said, holding his arms wide... 'Why, man, I've known kints all my life. My pappy showed 'em to me when I was just a kid. I see 'em every fall when I go deer huntin' down aroun' my place on the Tinsaw. They're big birds, I tell you, big and black and white; and they fly through the woods like pintail ducks!'

"After Spencer's outburst, the members of the team were all believers -- not just because of his vehemence, but because his description was so accurate. Ivory-bills do not have the typical bounding flight of the pileated woodpecker. They generally fly away high and straight, with stiff flight feathers, looking very much like a pintail, and their call is a distinctive nasal kent, kent, kent -- very similar to the local name Spencer used, kint. Sutton and the others couldn't wait to get to the bayou and start searching.

"As it turned out, that was not an easy proposition..." --Gallagher, Tim. The Grail Bird: Hot on the Trail of the Ivory-billed Woodpecker, pp. 10-11: "Of People and Peckerwoods."

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Along the Dragon's Belly: Fafnir's Lake, 18 June 2019

Brian and I returned to Horseshoe Lake on 18 June.  Some weeks before, I'd noticed on Google Earth a small, heavily wooded lake to the north of Horseshoe; its shape suggested to me a somewhat stylized dragon.  With no name appearing on Google Earth, I decided after consulting with Brian to call it Fafnir's Lake.  It was a short trip, heavy from the beginning with the promise of rain, and the heat and biting flies were nearly unbearable.  We only just made it to the "underbelly" of the dragon; and as the forest there seemed very young, we cut our trip short, having just enough time to scavenge some driftwood from the other end of Horseshoe Lake before a heavy downpour that would not abate for several hours.

All photos in this post, unless otherwise noted, are by Brian Carlisle.

 It's a bit of a stretch, admittedly.

The humidity was ridiculous.  (My photo.)





 


Sigurd, a very large baldcypress we encountered on the trail in the vicinity of the Dragon. 

 There were numerous box turtles on the high ground between Horseshoe and Fafnir.


 Brian has an eye for the small things I often miss.






Horseshoe has some of the best forest views along its shores of any of the lakes in the Pascagoula River Swamp.  Just my opinion.

Thick muck on the southwestern end of Horseshoe Lake.




 We found some nice pieces of baldcypress driftwood.

On the bluff overlooking the River.

 Upstream.

 Sandbar directly across the River.

 Looking downstream as the rain began.
 
I took this photo of a sweet gum as we were pulling away from Horseshoe Lake.  I could not get a good shot because of the downpour.  I suspect it is damage from a tree that fell, though I did not see the remains of one.

Brian and I would like to thank all who continue to visit this blog, and all past support and kindnesses that help inform this blog's perspective.  Our relationship with the remarkable Pascagoula River Swamp -- now in its fifth year -- is changing in some ways, though we continue to explore it with cameras in our hands, mindful of the messages reaching our eyes and ears.  My goal is to continue to share our journey here with all the clarity, humility, and reverence I can.

-- Chris

Friday, July 5, 2019

In Memory: Bob (Robert) Russell

Thanks for all the kind words, optimism, and encouragement, Bob.  You are missed.

Boneyard Lake at dawn.   Pascagoula WMA, Mississippi.  (Photo:  Brian Carlisle)

Monday, June 24, 2019

Hutson Lake, 5 March 2019

A morning kayak of Hutson Lake, my favorite grand old oxbow off the upper reaches of the Pascagoula River.  Birds were very active, especially flycatchers and Prothonotary warblers; I watched a female of the latter species building a nest in a dead snag just inches from the waterline. 

I took few photos; and I need to note here ongoing difficulties I am having with uploading video from my iPhone to YouTube.  So this post, and likely posts in the near term, will be brief.

 I kayaked mostly among the trees on the north end of the oxbow.



 This dead tupelo has been heavily worked on.  I do not often see Pileated Woodpeckers out over the water, but this does suggest Pileated work to me.
 

 Large, recently completed beaver lodge.

 This dead relict still stands, a few years after my brother and I first encountered it.  


Thanks to all who continue to visit this blog, and for the words of encouragement.  My visits to the Swamp have decreased, but I now have more reasons for going, which I will not yet divulge here.  I can only say that I will from time to time step into that world, and share my time there, as long as I live nearby.

Saturday, May 4, 2019

Boy, and Other Business

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.








 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.