The wonderful rain had frozen overnight and all the buds were encased in ice. That’s spring in northern Minnesota.

As we piled into the van (all hatted and gloved again!), Bill told us we were headed out to scratch trees. Scratch trees? Well, if you scratch at the base of a tree having cavities in which birds are nesting, the birds will pop their heads out. Our target was Pileated Woodpeckers. We drove out to the area around the Kawishiwi Campground (Highway #1, just after the second bridge) and parked in the driveway of the Forest Service Research station. There were lots of tall, aging aspen with multiple cavities along the road (holey trees?).

Bill scratched away.

We all watched intently, placing bets on which hole would house a bird. Four trees (with about four holes apiece) before we finally found a woodpecker at home. The female poked her head out and looked us over, turning her head from one side to the other; they must not have binocular vision. After we had walked on down the road she flew out; breakfast time I’d guess.

We were scanning for Eastern Phoebes along the river when a Merlin dived at the birds. The falcon then flew to a phone line and watched us while we watched him: stalemate. We gave up first. Live birds rather than eggs or rodents are the preferred food of these falcons.

Over in the campground we thought we saw a Ruby-crowned Kinglet; it was moving around so much that firm identification was difficult – but I’ll trust Bill. Birdsong filled the air: Chipping Sparrows, White-throated Sparrows, Red-winged Blackbirds, American Robins, Eastern Phoebes, and an Ovenbird, probably more. The brisk air was loud with birdsong.

We scratched more trees and roused only a tousled-headed camper and his beautiful white dog. More mutual watching. Since coffee wasn’t being offered we moved on.

Bill talked about the Kawishiwi area as being uniquely and reliably full of a variety of birds. He pointed out the trail around the campground that leads through a variety of habitats should be great for birding when we have more time.

On the drive home Bill swung by the old ball field that we had visited on our first session. No much moving there: a couple of Ring-billed Gulls foraging along the road and some Killdeer inside the playing field.

Next week is our last outing.

It was a crisp 26 degrees when I pulled into the parking lot to meet the “birding” van. The sun had been up for an hour, rising over an hour earlier than at our first session. We headed out for one of the few open areas in our town – the cemetery. It is apparently a Mecca for birds.

We checked four Bluebird boxes and found “reservations” in three of them. It seems that Eastern Bluebirds are very careful about the placement of even the earliest pieces of grass for their nests. Even if there were only a few pieces of grass, they were tucked neatly around the edges and curved to create the “cup” that would eventually be a nest. The male bluebird sang brightly from a power line while the female played peek-a-boo in a nearby tree. Their melodic song was wonderful to hear. Bill took us through the old part of the cemetery pointing out newly arrived Chipping Sparrows and Tree Swallows.

I was distracted looking at the old grave stones. The oldest date of death I spotted was 1891; Ely had just been founded. Then over to the newest portion of the cemetery where a large area of native, e.g. undesirable, shrubs had been cleared away last fall and replaced by a lovely landscaped planting of – shrubs. The old plants had been safe haven for migrating sparrows, pipits and longspurs so much so that Bill had nicknamed them the “sparrow shrubs.” I was distracted by Forsythia in bloom! In Ely! In April!

Then we drove out to check on a Bald eagle’s nest on Highway 88 (Grant McMann Blvd.). It had been reported that an unbroken egg was found at the base of the tree holding the nest. This is such an unexplainable happening that it led to speculation of whether the eagles might abandon the nest. We watched for several minutes but detected no signs of movement or occupation.

Heading out to Winton we experienced an eagle fly by – something I always consider a blessing. We stopped at the river crossing and observed only male ducks feeding. Bill speculated that the hens may already be sitting on eggs. We saw Mallard, Common Golden Eye, Bufflehead and Common Merganser drakes. Winding our way through Winton and along the shore, we continued to see only the drakes; hypotheses confirmed.

We were unexpectedly joined by photographer Jim Brandenberg when we stopped to watch for Trumpeter Swans where the Shagawa River crosses County Road 18. Jim, too, was watching for these rarities. But no luck with swan sightings on this day. They have been reported on Fall Lake and have nested in recent years in the BWCAW. What a wonderful comeback they have made.

We met again before the rest of the world was stirring – interesting to note that the sun was already up – what a difference a week makes. Also not as cold.

Bill took us to Winton to begin the morning. He reminded us that it is always good birding in Winton. Between the twisting of the Shagawa River and the meandering shoreline of Fall Lake, one can always see something in motion. But be aware that most of the areas are private land.

Bill set up his marvelous scope at a cleared area along the river right off “Main Street.” It was posted no-hunting and used to be the railroad right-of-way along the river. A cluster of Canada Geese honked their good mornings. There were beautiful Wood Ducks cruising near by as were some Common Golden Eye. Also saw Song Sparrows, a Bald Eagle and the Red-Winged Black Birds. We learned that all the Red Winged we were hearing were male birds that come first in the migration to claim their territory. The females will come later and get busy with nesting.

We then headed West on Co Rd. 990, know locally as the Old Winton Road, and came out on Hwy. 88 Grant McMann Blvd, which goes around Shagawa Lake. A right turn, a short distance and we stopped at Old Koschak Farm Natural Wild Life Area. It used to host the breeding ponds of a DNR fish farm. It is now a breeding area for lots of different birds and ticks – and mosquitoes, Bill says. The dikes around the old ponds make for interesting and varied vistas over the several viewing areas. It was here that I finally got the hang of the very good binoculars Bill loaned me: Don’t put them right up to the eyes.

We heard – but did not see – a Snipe! I was sure that it was a hoax – remember your days as a camper and being taken on a midnight Snipe hunt? Bill showed the drawing in the bird book and sure enough–there was a Snipe, a shorebird with the characteristic long legs and long beak; but I’m still not convinced.

Also spotted were a lot of wood peckers: Downy, Hairy, Yellow-Bellied Sap Sucker and a Flicker; lots more Red Winged Black Birds, Song Sparrows and another Bald Eagle. Ducks included Mallard and Common Golden Eye.

We crossed the road and walked through the grass (tick-haven) to Shagawa Lake shore where we saw a Ring Necked Duck. This bird is one I’ve often seen, but since it looks pretty much like generic “duck” I’ve never paid much attention to it. Bill told us all about the nesting habitats for all the diving ducks: the Pileated Wood Pecker hollows out a cavity in a tree, uses it for a season and next year the ducks move in to raise their young, then the cavity is empty again – short term rental tree condos.

We were graced with another Bald Eagle fly-by and then headed home.

The sun was well up when we assembled at 6 AM, but it still was cold and we were all gloved and hatted. This week we had one focus: Great Blue Herons. Bill took us to the rookery on Eagles Nest. I didn’t even know that Ely had a rookery, and it turns out there are at least two.

Finding the rookery is not easy. I’d suggest that anyone not really familiar with the area find a guide. From the Eagles Nest Road we turned west on to Walsh Rd., then wound along that extensive peninsula with its astonishing number of cottages. We stopped and parked at a gated access to the Tomahawk snowmobile trail, went left on the trail only a short distance, and then struck off right on a very faint footpath.

The area is one of extremely tall Red and White Pines. Our appearance in the area – even though we were at least 200 ft from the nesting area – was designed to observe from afar and not disturb the birds. We could hear a cacophony of sounds and see birds flying over.

We easily could see about five occupied nests; the birds must be incubating eggs. Unlike an eagle’s nest, these must be quite shallow as we could easily see the sitting birds. They were visiting with one another as well – imagine a long-legged Heron perched on a swaying branch of a pine tree! Other birds were to-ing and fro-ing, often with sticks suggesting that some remodeling was in progress. (I hope some of Dan’s photos of the lumber re-supply flights turn out.)

According to Bill, Heron nests are extremely flimsy-looking collections of sticks; you can even see through them. Nevertheless, they must be sturdy enough to hold the weight of at least three birds. Bill told us that they use the same nests year after year. Gradually, the accumulation of guano on the trees and nearby grounds will kill trees and reduce the variety of plants.

Bill also told us that when he has hiked in after the young are dispersed, he has found as many as 30 nests in this immediate area. I found it curious that the nests were smack dab in the middle of a forested area. I expected them to be on the shore of a lake since all the heron’s food comes from the lake. However they are only a short flight from the numerous bays of the nearby lakes.

Eagles Nest lakes, with their shallow bottoms and lots of shoreline, offers their favorite foods, crayfish and panfish. And the tall, tall trees give them a seriously long view. Imagine 60 alarmed herons (each having a six-foot wing span!) rising up to chase off an intruder.

When the birds were agitated, we heard their hoarse and guttural squawks, hoots and squeaks, atonal sounds that can only be described as primitive, conjuring up scenes of Pre Cambrian jungles. I’ve heard that sound before but not known what it was.

The Great Blue Heron generally lays three to four eggs and incubates them for 28 days. It takes between 8 1/2 and 11 weeks before the young fledge. Shortly after that they disperse.

The only other birds of much interest were a Yellow-bellied Sap Sucker busily tattooing a dead tree and the lovely Evening Grossbeak.

We met at 6 a.m. (!) in the parking lot outside Vermilion Community College. Eight of us piled into a van with the heater going on high. It was a brisk 28 degrees. The sun was just beginning to show on the eastern horizon. Today is the first of a six-session field-based class on the Ely-area birds. I was lucky to get a spot on the roster.

Around 6:20, Bill Tefft (VCC instructor) started us out near the Birch Lake Dam on Highway 1 south of Ely. The water is exceptionally low this year, and while the returning ducks are usually all clustered on a small area of open water, they have already begun to disperse since the ice was history as of four days ago. On both the running water side (north, I think) and the lake side, there was only a small amount of duck and bird activity.

Common Goldeneyes
Mallards
Hooded Merganser
Pied-billed Grebe
Eagle on nest – eggs likely to hatch in a few weeks
Song Sparrows
Common Raven
Crow

Bill pointed out the old dike along the lake side (south, I think), telling us the area is usually good birding. An old road on that side leads to the CC Camp, which is also good birding.

Heading back toward Ely, we turned in at the old Ely airport. (A sign says Forest Concrete and there is a State sign for the snowmobile trail access; White Street is directly across the Highway.) We followed the very rutted road circling an old ball field. Bill says this is reliably a good birding area.

Here we again saw/heard a song sparrow. Bill says it is the only bird singing so early, but out where I live on the lake, I have heard the Red-winged Black Birds and the Evening Grosbeaks exchanging “notes” about their winter adventures.

Killdeer in the grass of the old ball field
Northern Flicker on the fence
European Starlings in the grass

Then we headed through town toward Ely Memorial High School. Bill said that a common raven was trying to nest in the tall lighting platforms that surround the high school football field. Alas, we were unable to see a nest. However, we did spot a raven carrying a stick right there, so they may be undeterred. More on that potential conflict in future notes, I think. We circled around the school compound to the 4th Avenue side and spotted a long-established raven’s nest in the tall spruces alongside that busy area.

We were back at the college campus by 7:45 a.m., psyched up for our next trip.

All Minnesota State Snowmobile Trails officially closed on April 1.

Where did the winter go?

I took my last fishing trip up to Basswood three weeks ago, the morning of February 25.  The temperature was 24 degrees below zero when we arrived at the Fall Lake landing at 8:00 AM.  It was a perfect day for the teams.  We had three teams, a total of eighteen dogs.  All were in prime end-of-the-year condition and ready to roll.

Many teams had gone out ahead of us, and the landing was full of excited, barking, howling, dog teams.  We unboxed and harnessed the dogs and waited our turn, helping others get dogs hooked up and ready to go. 

First to leave were two big teams going camping, then a team hauling freight, some skiers going fishing, and two smaller teams; finally we were up.  Of course the dogs got more excited while watching all the other teams leave, so they were in a pretty big frenzy by the time we were ready to leave. 

I pulled the release snap and blasted off—down the hill, over the dip and onto the lake. We made it!  I looked back: Team Two made it and so did Team Three. We were off and heading for a day of adventure.

The trail was in great condition, and we made good time to our spot.  The temp was already moderating and very comfortable.  It was one of those incredible bluer-than-blue-sky days.  Upon arrival, the first thing we did was get the teams settled and tied out.  Then some of us worked on drilling the holes and others gathered firewood and got the fire going.  It was time for coffee, some food cooked over the fire, and fishing!

We did not see another person or team the whole day, only the vast white lake, blue, blue sky, and tall pines, calm and quiet, reaching upward.  The dogs snoozed in the sun while we relaxed and fished.  The beautiful day flew by like the birds singing their spring songs overhead.  At 3:00, we began to pack our gear, and by 3:30 we were back on the trail.  Around 4:00, as the sun set behind the trees, the temperature began to cool down and the dogs picked up the pace on a fast trail. We glided along in silence, save for the slight jingling of the necklines and the occasional grawking of a raven. 

The trip back was all too short.  The dogs head up the hill to the truck with energy to spare.

Tomorrow is Wednesday, March 17.  Every bit of snow is gone, and the temperatures have been near 50 or above for over a week.  Dog sledding is over for this year. It’s  time to hang up the harnesses, collect and organize the gear, put away the sleds, and try to explain to the dogs why we’re not running this morning . . .

Orion is spanglier than the rhinestone cowboy tonight as he jumps up into the eastern sky and the crescent moon lends a little illumination to what would be a lovely snowshoe stroll.

But I am not strolling.

I am being pulled along lickety-split behind Mantis the recreational skijoring dog. Neither one of us has a headlamp, and she sometimes switches tracks which I find only by feel and luck beneath my skis.

Jeff is hooked to Nacho the Iditarod dog who does not like to turn or stop. They are somewhere in the darkness far ahead of us.

I’ve taken some spectacular spills (thank goodness for yoga!).  Skijoring in the dark is not sane. Your mother and I do not recommend it.

But it is a BLAST!

After an evening with friends, made lively by a tumble of dogs and kids in a small house, one of them says, “Want to go for a ski sometime this week?”

So I clip an hour off the end of a workday, and we slide around the Trezona Trail. 

Our pace varies with our conversation, and at times we come to a full stop so that we can face each other. The warmth of the sun is helping balsam and pines release snow loads from branches. We hear the occasional shoosh, plop of a clump of snow tumbling to the ground. Sometimes we catch sight of a spray of snow crystals as the branch springs up, bouncing gently with relief. 

We stop on the trail where it overlooks a cluster of icehouses. Two men without hats lean against a pickup truck parked on the ice, perhaps discussing the day’s catch.

In summer, we will walk this trail, enjoying each other’s company, and the people in the icehouses will be bobbing about in boats. 

Today I’m enjoying the glide advantage the snow gives us.

Doesn’t it get cold there?

We nod and pull long faces. “Yeah, it does.” We walk away feeling tough and stoic.

We don’t confess that when the ice comes on we hope for cold that will give some thickness to the ice, then we hope for snow and more snow, then more cold. 

We’re not hard and long-suffering.

We’re a bunch of kids.

We pull on long johns, mukluks, mittens. Then we go outside and PLAY.  We jump on skis or snowmobiles or snowshoes and look for adventure. We cozy up inside a heated icehouse or sit down on an overturned bucket and hope that a big fish will check out the little fish we have on the end of our fishing line.  We hook dogs up to a sled and let them run. We use our kids as excuses to go careening down a hill on an inner tube or a plastic sled. We play hockey or just plain skate. We build snow caves, pitch canvas tents, or maybe just roll up in bedding under a lean to and watch the stars’ slow spin. 

Spring comes and we think, “How come I didn’t get that closet cleaned out this winter?”

“Why didn’t I get my files organized?”

“What the heck did I DO all winter?”