dipping on the big white falcon

Today our peaceful morning was disrupted by a message that a white-phase Gyrfalcon had been spotted in a neighboring county. As it turns out, my husband and I found a gray Gyrfalcon right here in our home town earlier this year. It’s hard to be blase about a Gyrfalcon, but I’m not very inclined to chase birds. I consider myself primarily an ornithologist, but also a birder, and I do keep lists. I am most apt to go after a bird in my own city or county; it has to be something I’m very interested in to make me burn the gas to go very far. That’s my main discomfort in chasing birds: it seems like an indulgent waste of fossil fuel.

To further dull my enthusiasm, there was a strong north wind blowing, which would be amplified at the open, dismal place on Lake Erie where the bird had been seen, and it involved a mile-plus muddy hike. But, my husband is into raptors, especially wanted to see a white Gyr, and was keen to go, so off we went. To make a long story short, it was a miserable walk, most of which I plodded alone, as The Kingfisher is 14" taller than me, and I was not about to trot to keep up with him. We also had to spend time examining a scenic gravel pit and handsome municipal landfill (with its bag-spangled adjacent woodlot) where someone thought the bird had been seen. After all that, we missed the bird.

We did find four occupied Red-tailed Hawk nests and a Great Horned Owl nest to document for the state breeding bird atlas, so I felt I’d accomplished something.