Moosehead, Above It All

The idea of driving for the Bicknell’s Thrush trips was pretty exciting when I volunteered to do it several months ago: I figured it would be my only chance this week to get into high-altitude habitats, and it wouldn’t break my heart to see the thrush again, a couple of years after Alan and I undertook our successful expeditions to the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

I was having pretty serious second thoughts at 1:45 this morning. It was cold, it was dark, it was an organizational nightmare (I mean “challenge”) getting all those sleepy birders into the right vans. But we pulled out into the darkness, bound for Big Moosehead Mountain, two hours from Bangor. My “shotgun” rider did a great job of keeping me awake on the drive, and a good thing, too, especially when a really big moose stepped calmly into the road in front of us.

But we arrived safe and relatively chipper, and the group set out up the steep and beautiful trail, accompanied by the finest chorus of birdsong I’d heard the entire convention. Black-throated Green, Black-throated Blue, and Blackburnian Warblers sang along with Blue-headed and Red-eyed Vireos, and the leafy maples sheltered a few Rose-breasted Grosbeaks and Scarlet Tanagers. Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers beat their tatoo, and a couple of Pileated Woodpeckers yelped as we walked by. By the time we reached the realm of Blackpoll Warblers and Yellow-bellied Flycatchers, the sun was out and the views of the lake below us and the rest of Maine in the distance made me glad I’d heeded my wake-up call and stumbled out into the dark 5 hours earlier.

Swainson’s Thrush serenaded us all the way from parking lot to summit. When I arrived at the old firetower at the top, a Bicknell’s Thrush was singing quietly in the distance (probably loudly, come to think of it, but it was a long, long ways away); another invisible bird responded later to a tape (not mine!!) with a few bzeer calls. So our target essentially eluded us, but what we did find up there was even better. A pair of Boreal Chickadees was buzzing around the path at the summit, and most of us enjoyed spectacular looks at this endearing little bird. And somehow, one of the participants spotted a Spruce Grouse perched low just a few feet off the trail; Eric very generously came back to get me, communing with nature with my eyes shut and my mouth open, and I had fantastic views of a life bird! The walk down was pretty strenuous, but no one complained.

The long drive back was easier, and I was awake enough to pay attention to the road and to do a little birding along the way. A Broad-winged Hawk got on the wrong side of an Eastern Kingbird at one point, but the best sighting was an American Bittern that flew right in front of the van, the last addition to my list during this Convention.