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Smiling Gods and soaring Kites



On Monday morning I decided on a whim to go try for the Swallow-Tail
Kites and Bachman's sparrows in Francis Marion National Forest north
of Charleston. It is about time that after being in the south two
years I should see these birds; thus, off I went on a
coming-of-age-in-the-south ritual, armed with explicit direcions from
Gary Phillips and other Charlestonians.

The first evening's walk in the Santee delta produced lots of forest
birds like Blue Grosbeaks, YB Cukoos, and Orchard Orioles, Indigo
Buntings, Parulas and Yellowthroats, but not a shadow of a Kite; in
fact, no raptors at all, and only one measely GB Heron. What I did see
was incredible numbers of Tree Swallows flocking all over the
grassland, and a Bobwhite pair calling forlornly from the scrub. Not a
bad start, since I have yet to see or hear a Bobwhite this year; but
it was definitely less than I had hoped for. In my fecund imagination
the delta would be shaded by immense flocks of Swallow Tailed Kites
mixed in with an occasional Mississippi to provide relief, as one 
trips over a Bachmans' with every step, and Painted Buntings serenade
one from every patch of scrub. The reality was considerably more
austere.

The second morning I tried the coastal reserve, and here, at the very
entrance, I did finally trip over a Bachman's as it fluttered into the
understory. This was a bit of an anti-climax since after waiting for
so long for a glimpse I had hoped to get every field mark on the bird:
all I saw was an unmistakably dark-tailed sparrow with a gray head (no
eye-line etc.); but since it could not be anything else (so much
darker than a Song sparrow, though of the same size), that I feel
quite comfortable calling it. But what the sparrow lacked in detail
the forest more than made up for. It was all dappled shade under an
open long-leaf pine forest with a thick green understory of ferns and
young sweet-gum. If this is what much of North Carolina used to look
like we have lost something stunning. There was a healthier population
of Great Crested Flycatchers and Bobwhite here than I ever remember
seeing anywhere. Every other tree had a  Great Crested on it, flashing
through the upper branches. Red Cockadeds moved through the forest and
kept in constant touch with their sharp little 'kek' calls and BH
Nuthatches chattered amiably in the pines, prothonotaries sqeaked in
the marshes at Washo reserve. BUT Still no Kites.

headed south to the Seewee visitor center to ask directions, where a
VERY knowledgeable ranger told me the best strategy for the kites was
to head back up to the delta and forego the red wolves in a nearby
enclosure, and even the carefully done exhibits in the center. I would
highly recommend this visitor center, they were helpful and very
smartly done. 

So back I headed up the coast making a small excursion to the Moore's
Landing pier, where in the coastal scrub a Painted Bunting did indeed
serenade me as I drove up under its tree; Even getting out of the car
and walking up right under it did not scare it, and it was still
singing for all it was worth when ten minutes later the thoughts of
the missing kites tugged at me. At the end of the pier in the sand
bank/islands were willets, turnstones, least sandpipers, and some
curlew-type bird that was too far to identify with my binos.

Off to the Santee river where I perched at the very edge of the bridge
and tried scanning for the kites while trying to ignore the semis
hurtling by and smacking me with a wall of air. Pelicans and Royal
Terns swooped over the river, reminding me that if I were to be
knocked off I would swoop considerably less competently on my way down
to the brown water. Someone drove by in a car and shouted something
incomprehensible at me, and by about the sixth semi I was convinced
that martyrdom to Swallow Tailed kites on a S Carolina highway was
definitely not how I wanted to earn fame as a birder. A question for
local birders: Do you folks really hang out on the bridges in your
quest for the kites, or is there some saner method you advise?

By now it was two thirty and I had to start heading back, kites or no
kites. And then, just as I drove over the North Santee River, there
they were: three of them swooping marvelllously right over the
freeway; as it happened this was right next to the trailhead for the
Santee Delta, so I pulled off and watched this unearthly bird. The
three of them glided in and out over my head, reached down to their
talons and picked off god knows what little mite or bug, even preened
in flight, and seemed completely unphased by me standing gawking up a
them. The only bird that surpasses this in seeming more unearthly is
the Magnificent Frigatebird. And the two are, quite literally,
un-earthly.

And then, since the gods had begun to finally smile at me, I decided
to take one more little hike down the delta to see if the kites would
reappear there. They did very breifly, but what this yielded was a
pair of Mississippi kites flying very high over the river, even as an
osprey fished leisurely on the water and Black and Turkey vultures
soared lazily. So, in fact, the delta was finally shaded by soaring
raptors.

This is the first trip where I have seen EVERY one of the target
birds. 

Year List: 290 (the 290th was a common nighthawk over the freeway near
Fayetteville).

Still on a birding high:
Shantanu Phukan
Chapel Hill