Living in the suburbs of metropolitan Detroit, I’ve learned to be flexible with my naturing. If I had my druthers, I’d be alone or in very quiet human company. But the closest parks I visit most often are part of the Huron-Clinton Metropark system. They tend to be large and multi-purpose. Most have golf courses, playgrounds, swimming pools and more. But all have dedicated nature study areas, with well maintained trails where dogs, jogging and biking are prohibited. High density regional population means these parks are well used, including the nature study areas. So I’ve learned to adjust, and even welcome human interactions. To quote Maya Angelou,
If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude. Quotespedia
With solitude usually out of reach, I’ve changed my attitude and been surprised that sometimes, other people turn out to be the best part of the outing. Such was the case this past Sunday.
I’ve been going to the Detroit River Hawk Watch at Lake Erie Metropark, hoping to catch a glimpse at a Golden Eagle. Last week, I saw a couple, but they were distant and barely visible to my aging eyes. With binoculars. Luck would have it that one came fairly close on Monday. Close enough for a photo that’s good enough for ID. So human interaction #1 was with the good folks who volunteer at the hawk watch and go out of their way to make sure spectators like me can share the wonder of these raptors.
I was also able to catch a Red-shouldered Hawk. And a Red-tailed Hawk made a nice turn and bank.
Just after the Golden Eagle flyover, I was talking to another birder who looked familiar. Turns out she’s Ms. D, a friend of a friend who I met birding. After oooing and ahhing over the Eagle, she asked if I’d seen the Least Bittern. Least Bittern? Here?? This late?!? So human interaction #2 had me jumping in the car and off to a different part of the park. Ms. D had helpfully given me a description and photo of where she’d seen the Bittern that morning.
Least Bitterns make the eBird Michigan rare bird alerts, so I expected to see at least a small crowd along the Lake Erie shore, which in that area is about a half-mile long. I only saw a younger couple near the shore, enjoying the sunny day and sitting at a picnic table. They didn’t look like birders, but I approached them anyway, for human interaction #3. I asked if they had seen the Least Bittern. “The least what?” Neither had even heard of the bird. Being of a certain generation, they did an internet search and I had the sense that they didn’t think I was a totally crazy old lady.
I headed south along the shoreline, which is banked by limestone boulders, tree snags and tall grasses. I did my best to peek over the rocks to try to see the shore. I was almost at the end of the trail when I see Ms. D coming towards me from the south. She had driven after me to help me find the Bittern. What a sweetie! But she’d had no luck and neither had two other birders who were also coming from the south end. We decided to turn around and head back north to check one more time.
Within minutes, who do we see jogging toward us and waving his arms but the young man from the picnic table. He yelled that he thought the bird was back where he and his girlfriend were sitting. As we hustled our way back, we learned his name was Max. Us birders kept thanking him for running all that way just to let us know. Sure enough, the Bittern was there by the picnic table, standing still and slightly hunched in the shallow water.
We approached slowly and as quietly as the dried leaves on the ground would allow. The Bittern was totally unphased by us gawpers, and stayed in clear view in the late afternoon sunlight. It was finding lots to eat, catching what I think were gizzard shad. One after another. Sometimes freezing in place and then striking, sometimes slowly walking in the shallows.
Us four birders were gobsmacked. None of us had ever seen a Least Bittern in the open like that. We’d all had similar experiences, where this secretive and well camouflaged tiny bird lurked in thick cattail marshes, moving close to the water by grabbing the cattail stalks and rarely coming into view.
After thanking him for the umpteenth time, Max explained that he was not a birder, but his mother Annette had been. That day was the second anniversary of her death. Max had asked for a sign from his mom. He saw that sign when he spotted the Bittern, and just had to run to tell me he’d found the bird. I still get teary eyed when I think of this grieving young man going out of his way to make the day of a stranger from a chance encounter.
Oh, and did I mention it was my birthday?
THE DAILY BUCKET IS A NATURE REFUGE. WE AMICABLY DISCUSS ANIMALS, WEATHER, CLIMATE, SOIL, PLANTS, WATERS AND NOTE LIFE’S PATTERNS.
WE INVITE YOU TO NOTE WHAT YOU ARE SEEING AROUND YOU IN YOUR OWN PART OF THE WORLD, AND TO SHARE YOUR OBSERVATIONS IN THE COMMENTS BELOW.
FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT THE PURPOSE AND HISTORY OF THE DAILY BUCKET FEATURE, CHECK OUT THIS DIARY: DAILY BUCKET PHENOLOGY: 11 YEARS OF RECORDING EARTH'S VITAL SIGNS IN OUR NEIGHBORHOODS
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