Olaf Danielson's Blog, page 4

Not evil, it is just a weevil

The Boll Weevil decimated the cotton crops of the South over a century ago.  In most places the economy collapsed and withered, just like the cotton balls out in the field, but not Enterprise Alabama. Here, the insect brought prosperity, as inadvertently as it did.  Elsewhere, the bug transplanted from Mexico caused a total estimate of 23 billion in damages and led to massive social upheaval and mass migration, in Enterprise, realizing what was ahead, they switched to growing peanuts, and the town prospered.
Today was the Boll Weevil Fall Festival in Enterprise Alabama, and yes, Olaf was there, well my wife was there too.  We came late looked on a bit and went and saw some of the statues to the local bug hero.
                           
Pharmacist weevil
Power company employee weevil
This weevil was waiting for a dental exam, Silja was in need of a cleaning so she got in line
farmers market weevil
There was also AC and heating repairman Weevil
Silja was touched by an angel in downtown Enterprise today, literally.  This older woman asked me to send her a photo of the iconic Athena holding the Weevil statue (it is named the Harald of Prosperity erected in 1917), instead Silja volunteered to take her photo.  Why was she an angel, you ask?  Well we told her we were from up north and South Dakota.  The woman proudly exclaimed, she was from heaven.  The Heaven?  Well, there is no "Heaven" in Alabama, in fact, although there are two places called Hell (one in Norway and one in Michigan) there is no city or village named Heaven anywhere in America, so therefore she must be an angel, as there is no other Heaven.  Why is an angel taking a selfie on an Iphone 11?  Maybe the shipment of I-14s have been delayed up there too?  Silja taking a photo of an angel in front of the Harald of Prosperity
It was not our only stop with unusual monuments,  We swung through Memphis to see the Great Pyramid of Memphis.  I was tired of three days of heavy wind so I needed a stop.
The Great Pyramid, once a odd basketball stadium (Memphis Grizzlies) is now a Bass Pro Shop and a hotel.  I needed gloves and a belt and lunch sounded like fun.  It was brave to drive the big rig in downtown Memphis at the Riverfront.  I checked the online community.  "Sure, you can camp in the bug lot.  Well, luckily I also read to just park at the Tennessee Welcome visitor center, which we sort of bailed out in when I saw the low arched sign over the road and the ominous warnings,  = Morale:  do not believe the internet!
We had our visit and got out in one piece, no problem.  Like Enterprise, we came we saw and we weeviled
We are 350 miles from Land O Lakes Florida and our winter campsite, seeing everything in Enterprise and since our campground is a little lo-cal, we will make it tomorrow.  Snowing at home and here, in the land of the cherished weevil, 85 today.  What a difference 1400 miles makes.
So far an uneventful trip and an angel, good day all in all
Olaf

 

The dang old Zugunruhe.

Summer is over, the better (best?) part of fall is also past and well, like a migratory bird we are getting that antsiness to head south.  In German, Zugunruhe, that migratory-anxiety, which I guess is appropriate since son, Allwin is now safely in Jena Germany, waiting his job at the Max Planck Institute.  He is now blogging about his experiences so like father like son, send me a note and I'll give the link.  
Zugunruhe is a terrible feeling, one of the worst, for me at least....what to pack, what to leave, where is what.....panic, anxiety, and just the feel of dread.
We have packed the RV, loaded up the Volvo and the bikes behind, and plan on a Wednesday departure.  We have to go to St. Paul to drop off the furry children tomorrow since we are soon off to Thailand, and then Bhutan, Tiger and Snowball will be at daughter Laurens "Cathouse" for the rest of fall.  The kiddos do not travel well and it seems better to just leave them safe and sound until we retrieve them near Christmas.
Our trip south is routine, not much added save two days in Enterprise Alabama to....see Boll Weevil statues.  The whole city is littered with them.  Okay, the strange and true.  Maybe throw in some other chance stop like the Memphis Pyramid, and it will be a quick and to the point trip.
What have we spent our last few days doing?
We went to see the author William Kent Kruger in Milbank at the public library.  He inspires and entertains, at least me, also an author and writer (although much less famous).  
Then we went to make sure the cabin was put to bed.  Our dinosaur stood watch, stately in the wind on Enemy Swim Lake.
Everything looks so brown, but it has been a nice fall so far.  
We painted our house, it has been a 4 week project.
I started a new book, not reading, writing, "Burnett County, Revisited" and another anthology of history of my home county in Wisconsin.  Not many more years to do projects with my mother and this may be the last, who knows.  
So anyhow, on the road again as they say, and you will hear an update in a few days. 

A unique family adventure to North Dakota

We went on a little explore into North Dakota today, sort of a family outing with our two sons before they head back home.  We saw a little of America few see, one was a rather diminutive waterfall. Mineral Springs Waterfall as it turns out, IS the largest within the State of North Dakota.  To be fair, it does not look like much, but the two and a half mile walk into it was pleasant and worth the adventure.  Who knew? 

The Sheyenne River valley is a cool place. The look of fall is in the air...

We then went to Ft Ransom, and looked for the many archeology oddities found nearby.  Pyramid Hill, a mound of conflicting origin, overlooking the Sheyenne River, much like Pilot Mound overlooks the end of the Pembina River to the rest almost straight north in Manitoba.  I have my theories but that is beyond this blog.
The Black Viking sits on top, a rather recent addition to an ancient mound.  It all started when Snorri and Bjarne--Snorri Thorfinnson and Bjarne Ness, two old cronies in Fort Ransom--decided they would put their little town on the map with a Viking monument. They were inspired both by Snorri’s discovery of Norse mooring stones along the Sheyenne River and by the example of Elmer Peterson of Jamestown College, whose World’s Largest Buffalo not only put Jimtown on the map but also lured Republican hopeful Nelson A. Rockefeller out for the dedication in 1960. Snorri and Bjarne started sculpting classes with Professor Peterson, the master of concrete, and planned to fashion the great Viking themselves. They wanted to place it atop the conical hill overlooking town from the south, an elevation Snorri thought surely was an Indian burial mound. That was when the dream began to unravel, for Bjarne got cancer, and died, and Snorri’s enthusiasm flagged.
Somehow, then, as the story goes, a Vietnam veteran named Bill Woell, down and out and living in a tipi, made connections with Snorri and other men of the Fort Ransom Commercial Club, and he offered to sculpt them a Viking.  He did the work in a farm building down by Leonard, fashioning the figure of pipe, steel mesh, and a sort of burlap-mache.  One afternoon in the early 1970s, a helicopter lowered the Black Viking into place.
It was not exactly what the Nordic stalwarts of Fort Ransom had in mind.  The Black Viking was downright demonic. He was, of course, black, and way too slender to be stolid. His spear was like a trident, his horned helmet like horns, and his eyes, they glared vacantly. “We wanted a Viking,” a local woman observed, “but not that kind.” The subsequent physical deterioration of the Black Viking testifies to the not-so-benign neglect by the community for a stunning piece of outsider art.  They now have a turn out and a sign below him.
We could not locate the mooring stone or the Writing Rock, sigh, a missed opportunity

We also went past the Scenic Theater in Lisbon ND, the oldest continuously operated movie theater in the United States.  It began operating in 1911.  "Where the Crawdads sing" is currently playing, should anyone get up this way.  It is a one of a kind place worth visiting.

Standing Rock is a rather odd deal.  What a piece of obsidianish stone is doing on this high overlook is not natural. There is a lot of money placed on it, for reasons I can only guess.  It is at an extensive 15000 year old burial mound complex (a mound is behind my son), this is about 8 miles north of the Pyramid Mound.  Who was here 15,000 years ago?  Nobody really knows.  Some speculate but they do not know.   
We saw the 1910 built Sargeant County courthouse in Forman, ND, to add to me nascent collection of County Courthouse photos.  The maroon trim is quite nice and considering this sits in a town of 450 people, and in a small county, its upkeep is good to see.

Plus a more recent one in Lisbon, for Ransom County, This one looks very much 1930s and upon looking it up, I was not surprised to see the building date at 1937.
I decided to not photograph birds today.  I watched but somehow felt I was intruding and could not press the shutter, the same held true for butterflies but I snapped a couple of photos anyways.  There were a few Gray Hairstreaks about.
and so diminutive Dainty Yellow butterflies hanging on in the rapidly browning of fall

Saw some western plains garter snake subspecies of the common garter snake, many were out on the roads
I also saw a smooth green snake as well, but could not get it photographed It was a good outing to the north, might be the last for a while, Allwin middle is leaving for the Max Planck Institute in Germany in two weeks and Tyko, is heading back in a couple of days to Chicago to complete his medical studies.  It has been a wonderful  idyll home with our boys.

Is the Doctor in the house?

                              

We drove to Madison and the University of Wisconsin to welcome the newest "Doctor" in the family, Dr Allwin McDonald PhD, after he gave his public dissertation for his PhD in Chemistry today, he was done, All under the watch of his mentor, faculty researcher Dr. Andrew Buller  

the start of his hour presentation of 5 years of research, Dr Buller gave him a great introduction of how he became his initial 1st year lab grad student in 2018.
He is a well published protein engineer specializing in biological enzymes.  After leaving the University in Wisconsin now, in October, he leaves for the Max Planck Institute in Jena Germany for a post doctorate fellowship.  Since he majored in German in college and did both a summer internship in Vienna and studied for a year in Bonn, it should not be that big of a shock.  He will be using his expertise to aide their lab.  We will miss him terribly, but once the chicks have left the nest, what is a dad to do....I guess German birds are in my future, crested lark anyone? 
A department toast with his boss Dr Andrew Buller on the right, it was Allwin's big day and he seemed to revel in his element



His lab
the table said all kinds of nice things

We are such proud parents!

Angling for an Adventure

So what did you do this summer?  It turns out, I went fishing....and winning awards doing it.

First there was Truman versus Dewey, Jesse Ventura in 1998, or even the Miracle Mets of 1969, but on Thursday I (yes I) shocked camp winning the much coveted Smoothrock Walleye Fishing Challenge" and got to hoist the Stan Peer Memorial Trophy for the first time ever and win the fabulous prize money.

Dr Rapp the 2019 champion presenting me in Duluth with Stan Peer Trophy

Why is this such a shock? You may ask.  First of all, we spent more time blueberry picking than walleye fishing, mostly because we found a blueberry spot that was just incredible and we never win the walleye trophy, walleye fishing is just too ....slow.

Greg, boat partner, picking berries on "Burnt over Lunch Island"
Secondly, we aren't very good at it.  We do not have the sophisticated sonar, fancy rigs, or anything, we just fish jigs, sometimes rotate colors, but only reluctantly, and well, catch many small ones but nothing large.  Greg, my boat partner almost never catches even a fish for the "Slot Board," over 19 inch fish we release and mark on the board.  This year the group had 58 registered fish, Greg, he caught 1, and was happy he caught one.  The first one I caught, was on a pike lure in 2 feet of water.  

Our boat spends almost our entire effort pike fishing going after a separate trophy, one in which we can win, one in which we have won, and won in which we expect to win, the only question is typically who in the boat is going to win it, and it becomes quite competitive, I the "Pike Whisperer" but also the guide, who usually fishes second on casts, so Greg has an advantage on each bay.

Greg admiring the Falun Sucker Club Memorial Trophy that hangs in Cabin #11 at Smoothrock Camp, first awarded in 1984 after being caught by me Musky Fishing on Big Trade Lake in NW Wisconsin (long story) and then fashioned into a traveling trophy of sorts, first won by me in 1985, since 2010, when Greg dedicated Canada fishing towards pike fishing, he has won it 5.5 times and me 3.5 times, one year not awarded due to Covid, two years we did not win it, and in 2016, I did a big year and did not go up there (but Greg won it with someone else.
3rd place, 37 inches.  The group landed and released 19 pike over 28 inches
2nd Place 40 inch fish, although heavier than the winning fish, it was a 1/2 inch too short to win.  Our boat caught 197 pike for the week, about average.  Our best total 352 in 2013, a year in which we boated 5 over 40 inches
Greg holding the first large fish caught, last Saturday, 40.5 inches, but it held out for the entire week
Greg Peer holding his cash prize, and luckily getting a chance again to "pet the beaver" in an annual tradition under the coveted trophy which will have Greg's name on it for 2022.

But that is pike fishing, to win the walleye award is the big honor.  My dad, Doug Segelstrom has never won it in the modern era despite first coming to Smoothrock with me in 1982 and many fishermen have came and went without having their name on the trophy.  I won it in 2013 (but before we got the new trophy to award two years later), but with the smallest walleye ever at 22 3/4 inches and I think everyone must have been drunk that year or something odd was in the air.  
So a newcomer named Butch from Phoenix took the lead on the second day, with a 24 and 1/2 inch fish, a respectable fish.  Greg proclaimed most accurately that we would have a better chance to both beat his 40 1/2 inch pike than to beat that walleye.  I had only caught one walleye bigger on the lake, and that was in June a few years back, well before an August contest.  Greg had never caught one bigger. So we never even fished walleyes for days 2, 4,5, and on day six, bored we fished them for an hour, just the 2nd hour to do it.  Everyone else fished for dinner and for ones to take home, but even though that was only our second hour fishing them (we had picked blueberries for four hours and pike fished for 50 hours during the week), I used some advice I gleaned earlier in the summer- fishing deeper down the drop offs away from the smaller fish and Greg and I caught three fish between 21 and 22 inches, his only one for the week.  It seemed to hold true but only to get on the fish board.  
But it wasn't like we were plotting an "attack," there was no attack, we were never going to win anything.  We spent the week otherwise enjoying the sights and doing what we do while fishing.  BS-ing at camp, telling tale tales of ones that got away
stealing gas from a sister camp ten miles away so we can get home
wildlife watching and photography
Making shore lunch
Enjoying the many fantastic views.......
So the last day arrived, we went...pike fishing, rotating directions to hit the holes on the way to blueberry picking.  While passing a spot I have fished once for walleye in June, for reasons never clear I stopped to walleye fish, Who knows why I do things on the lake. I found the reef and backed off and Greg immediately hooked something large....and undoubtedly green, it would be a feisty 31 inch pike that made us struggle to land on light tackle and no leader. But, we did. It was pike #190 for the week and a tricky catch on the walleye rod
So we did it again, Finally after sorting out some small fish I kept catching while backing down the the drop off, I finally saw the depth dropping fast.  I had a bite and set the hook then I got something on, it was notedly large. When hooking a bigger pike on jigs, if they don't cut the line immediately, need to be slowly hoisted off the bottom and then a quarter, half way up especially in August will just take off and swim away fast.  Greg noticed my hoisting efforts with my even lighter rod than he uses for walleye.  "Big one?" He asked.
"Yes, and if this is a walleye, It has money attached to it," I laughed at what I said knowing full well it was a pike just waiting for a big and fast run and which it would probably never be seen. Knowing such, I have changed my walleye reel to a smaller clone of my pike reel, a salt-water and hard to find, baitrunner series with two drags in which I use for different things than the company intended.  I use the second "baitrunner drag," to have an emergency second drag set very light to allow a run away pike the chance to go fast without giving it a chance to either pull the rod out of my arms or to break the line since it is so hard to keep up.  My 40 inch fish on heavy line ran 150 yards before it stopped enough for me to turn it back toward the boat.  I once had a 38 inch pike on this same reel that ran and ran so much Greg had to take the tiller to chase it down as twice it was nearing the end of my spool.  It took us 40 minutes and nearly a quarter mile to even land.  As such, knowing this was a bigger pike, I had my finger on the second drag button ready, but how big was it?  It is hard to tell at this stage.  On my rod, they all feel huge.  I struggled to pull the fish off the bottom knowing what was coming, I was ready for it to go.  But then It gave up some depth, and then some more, I was thinking the new and a little heavier line I had put on had helped, (my wife on her similarly equipped rod was able to out hoist a rather lazy 40 3/4 inch pike that never ran and we got it in the boat).  Maybe I could beat Greg's pike?   
It was coming up and I struggled to look into the depth to see how big the "pike" was to determine what we had to do to get it into the boat.  Maybe I would switch places with Greg so as to maybe chase it down when it ran.  The boat sometimes scares the lazy ones into running.  We prefer to hand land all pike but a walleye might cut you on a gill plate, and my fingers were sore for weeks in June from walleye fishing, so we use a net on them.  Greg held the net but was also trying to get a plan of what we would do.  My light trusty rod, was bent over double as I hoisted the fish.
Then Greg and I saw it together, "It IS a walleye."  It came right up to the surface and without a word,  He scooped it up and there it was a 26 INCH FISH!
   We high fived each other, I let out a hoot as I measured it as my arms started to shake.  It was not a record or anything. Then we laughed at the absurdity of it all.  Then laughed the rest of the afternoon thinking about it again.  It wasn't that big of a fish so other boats were out there fishing and fishing for walleyes in places were big ones lurked, I had not even won anything yet. But the laughing subsided...
So, what does Olaf do next?  Well, then I tried to snatch defeat from apparent victory.  We went blueberry picking two miles south of camp, but we were 12 miles north of camp and I never stopped to refill the gas tank, and after blueberry picking drove a mile even farther south.  I kicked the gas tank of the boat accidentally.  It showed empty and easily moved around.  Crap, I'm out of gas. Would we even make it home?
There is a rule for the contest.  All fish need to be registered by a certain time on the last day.  Previously, it had been 5PM, BUT someone still fishing caught a tying walleye five minutes after five a few years back and was not given the award.  There was also the event when a pike was trying to eat a walleye that was caught which was promptly netted by my dad which was never on a line, would that win (luckily Greg bested that fish two days later so it was never a real issue)?  We have had rule SNAFUS and committee rulings, that have adjusted the rules.  Quitting time now was 8pm, but if I ran out of gas, got stranded and would I even be rescued on Thursday, let alone by 8PM?  I could hear the lore for decades more, of how I had neglected to stop and register my fish only to run the boat out of gas....and lose.  Uff Dah!
I put the can up on the seat and shook it, it would be close and headed back to camp and into the wind, we would never even drift the right way home.  We had seen no one fish that direction all week so no one was going to come to our rescue.  I sighed and soldiered on.  Keeping close to one shore so we could paddle the boat to a point to increase our chances.  A mile ahead of us eventually I spotted a boat near an island not far from camp, it would turn out to be three boats.  I shook the can.  It was going to be close.  They would never notice us a mile off so I started to cross the open water heading straight towards them, it was probably unwise to go a few extra yards but I needed to get as close to them as I could.  Then I was a half mile, still too far to yell, then I crept to a quarter mile, and began to think we had a chance....
As I passed them, people I did not know, I was too close, I wonder if they got bothered by this crazy guy who was running flat out way too close to them but well, I might have needed them.  I got passed them and I breathed easier.  WE did have enough gas to get back to camp, but had I not kicked the can and noticed we would have ran out from where I was going.
Greg went and got more gas and I.....registered our fish.  We fished a half mile from camp for the rest of the day, actually walleye fishing for fun and then the previous champion returned from the their spot to join me at a place we call the "Hump." Dr Jeff Rapp and Butch fishing at the Hump.

As I was marking the underwater mound with buoys, the three boats I had buzzed earlier drove over, circled around me in what all I can surmise was some sort of "f" you gesture.  I waved a small walleye on them and put down a second buoy and looked like I was not moving.  They all eventually drove off.
So that was it.  The fish held and in the morning, we organized our stuff for the flight out, luckily I was on the first flight out.  Like usual the plane was delayed due to fog at the basecamp and now sitting in the office, I tried to take a nap.
The fog cleared, the plane came, unloaded reloaded, and then we were able to board led by the camp dogs...


The men in Cabin #11 2022,  Most had not been here for three years due to COVID and Canada travel restrictions. 
It is not the biggest award nor the biggest fish, and there is ALWAYS a bigger fish, but for an older guy, you do not get much glory in this world and this may be it, for me.  My real glory is seeing my kids and wife and their pictures are what makes me happy, but everyone needs a little recognition in life.  I am still feeling like I accomplished something special and that is why we live or at least why I live. In 2023, I will put in my tournament "fee" and well, fly to Smoothrock Camp and try again to win this award for two years in a row, something never done before.  Will I fish walleyes more?  maybe but probably not.  Nothing beats a big time pike run like the biggest one I caught, nothing.  Will I succeed in repeating, probably not, but heck, as they say it beats a day out at the office. 
So go out there, go fishing, go blueberry picking, something I shall savor all fall, as I brought back 20 pounds of them and why only 20 pounds?  It was all the containers we had with.....
Go out and enjoy yourself
Olaf 


   

Our Daughter's Big Day of Achievement

We came back from Scotland just in time to attend our youngest's graduation at Hamline University in St. Paul yesterday.  It was Lauren's big day, graduation with honors in Chemistry and History on her way to Dental School at the University of Minnesota.  

It was a crazy line trying to get into the Rivercenter in St Paul for the ceremony.  The previous graduation went late, but we got in fine and the pomp and circumstance started late.

The ceremony was fine, but it also ended up being a little long as Senator Klobuchar made a cameo appearance and gave a surprise speech.  (Her husband went to graduate school at Hamline).  Her speech was a classic stump speech, but okay.  Hamline divides their graduation in two and Former Gov (and senator) Dayton gave the keynote.  Ours was some 80 year alumni who I had never heard of before.

L was near the back of the line but eventually, all masked up, her name was called and she got her moment of achievement!  We all had to wear masks inside, except when speaking I guess.  Oh well, photos of the time.

The proud family....

Grandma and Grandpa Segelstrom
It took a village to get Lauren through Hamline.  Aunt Jena tutoring sign language classes, Allwin Chemistry and Calculus, Grandparents feeding and helping her move.....well all of us helped her move.  Numerous mentors for her future Dental practice,.....it took a lot!
She still calls me with bird consults and I suspect we'll go birding and fishing next week.
Congrats Girl!! A proud Dad
O
PS I got a Minnesota lifer Wilson's warbler walking back from the ceremony!!! 

  

By Land, By Sea, my Clan Experience

There is more to Scotland than just tits, (like this coal tit).  One cannot go to Scotland and not notice the local culture, the kilts, the tartan, the titles, and the Clans.  I have hated to admit this, and for most of my life ignored it, but as it turns out I have deep roots around the Highlands of Scotland.  As it turns out, I am a member of the Clan Donald, one of the largest clans around and usually known as the Clan Mac Donald.  By land and By sea, the motto of the clan is etched in my soul somewhere.

Clan Donald traces its descent from Dòmhnall Mac Raghnuill whose father Ranald or Reganeld was styled "King of the Isles" and "Lord of Argyll and Kintyre" and grandfather was Somerled, King of the Hebrides.

Specifically, I am from the branch known as the McDonnells of Antrim, in County Antrim in Northern Ireland.  You see, I have deep roots in the whole of Scottish history.  The MacDonnells of Antrim are descended from John Mor MacDonald chief of the MacDonald of Dunnyveg, John Mor MacDonald was the second son of Good John of Islay, 6th chief of Clan Donald and six generations descendant from the founder of the clan.  This birth was through John of Islay's second marriage to Princess Margaret Stewart, daughter of King Robert II.  Hence why the MacDonald's ended up on the Jacobite side of the whole threat to the English crown when the Tudors of Henry the VIII's line had no more children and the Stewarts took over but then they were removed by William of Orange in 1688 when the Protestants kicked out Catholic King James in the Glorious Revolution.  James or Jacobus would lead revolts from Scotland as would his son Charles,  Scotland would lose its independence in the ensuing years. 

John Mor MacDonald married Margery Byset daughter of the Mac Eoin Bissett Lord of the Glens of Antrim. They would take on the title Lord of Antrim from the Bissets even though that was not given.  It would turn out John Mor would be murdered in Edinburgh in 1427 by James Campbell continuing a feud that continues between the two clans, possibly even until today.

 John Mor MacDonald is my 20th Great Grandfather as it would turn out, and like probably hundreds of thousands, I am a direct descendant of the founder of the clan.  As the Jacobites gathered their forces in 1688, the second son of of the nobility of the Clan McDonnell, a young man named Bryan McDonnell was commissioned at Lieutenant of the Jacobite army, to fulfill the loyalty of the clan to the Stewart king James II, this despite that they were protestant.  James was open to al religions or so the history states. In 1691, James II left his army to go to Europe to secure support and left Lord Tyrconnell in charge of the Williamite War in Ireland, and he distrusted protestants in his army despite Clan loyalty and purged them all including my ancestor Bryan, who not being the family heir, decided it would be a good time to leave for America.  He purchased 693 acres from William Penn & moved to Delaware in 1691 with his family.  He was then known as "McDonald the immigrant."

So my ancestors have been in America for a very long time, oddly, as far as can be determined, none of my ancestors ever married another Irish person.....

Everywhere I went, I was surrounded by my Clan history.

The Urquhart Castle on Loch Ness was sacked by the Clan in 1513 and just about everything was carted off.  It was retaken in 1517 by the Clan Grant and then sacked again by my clan in 1545 when even more was taken.  The Grants blew up the castle in 1690 so the Jacobites would not use it in the Uprising of the period. 

Now it just gives a nice view to look for monsters

The Loch Ness Monster?  No, just a pipe.

We went to Skye, which we would learn must be the most crowded place on Earth in the summer and was still nuts.  The weather is also nuts out there.  Rain, fog, wind, cold, .....seeing the sky in Skye, a lucky break. 

It is also home of the ancestral and spiritual center of the Clan Donald out at the ruins of Castle Armadale. 

The view from the castle
The MacDonald's have been largely replaced by the Clan MacLeod of the other side of the island and who owns like 100,000 acres of the island which is most of it.   
We toured their castle, Dunvegon.  The MacDonald's were kicked out as "Lord of the Isles" in 1493.  The end of the MacDonald Lords came in 1493 when John MacDonald II had his ancestral homeland, estates, and titles seized by King  James IV of Scotland. Since that time, the MacDonald Clan has contested the right of James IV to the Lordship of the Isles and uprisings and rebellions against the Scottish Monarch were common.  This is why they sacked things like the castle on Loch Ness.

The MacLeod's (Leod which means "Ugly" in old Norse, the son's of Ugly, is a rather interesting name).  and the MacDonald's have had a rather odd and UGLY history.  Let us review a few of them.

Until the Lordship of the Isles was forfeited to King James IV of Scotland in 1493, both MacLeod branches were loyal to MacDonald Lord of the Isles, and kinsmen from both families fought side-by-side at the Battle of Bannockburn in 1314 for the Bruce cause; the Battle of Harlaw (1411) for the Chief of Clan Donald; and at the Battle of Bloody Bay in 1481 for John of Islay. After the loss of the Lord of the Isles’ title and lands, however, Scotland fell into a period of crisis and anarchy and the two major family branches — the MacLeods of Dunvegan and MacDonalds of Sleat — became locked in a violent feud that would last for over a century.

The enmity was bitter, the fighting barbaric, and both clans committed terrible atrocities towards each other’s kinsmen in a bid to regain and extend their powers over the Island. The fighting laid waste to farmland and the collateral damage to communities was high with reports of the civilian population being reduced to eating horses, pets “and other filthie beasts".

In addition to the battle sites during the Wars of the One-Eyed Woman, there are many places on Skye which mark the historical hostilities between these two vying clans. One such place is Trumpan Church, now a ruin, on the Waternish Peninsula.

In 1577, after a MacLeod raiding party landed on Eigg, the island’s population of MacDonalds fled to a cave in the south of the island. With a view to flushing them out, the MacLeods blocked the cave entrance with heather and vegetation and set it alight. Instead of becoming prisoners, however, all 395 MacDonalds were suffocated to death. Enraged by the slaughter, the following year, the MacDonalds of neighboring Uist landed eight birlinn war galleys at Ardmore Bay. While the MacLeods were all gathered inside nearby Trumpan church for their Sunday worship, the marauding MacDonalds barred the doors and set alight to the church, killing all but one – a young girl. The girl apparently managed to escape through a window, run the 10 miles to Dunvegan Castle and raise the alarm. Unfortunately for the MacDonald party, a low tide had grounded their escape vessels, leaving time for the MacLeods to catch them. A battle ensued, during which MacLeod raised the fairy flag and slaughtered his enemies to every man. The bodies of the fallen MacDonalds were lined up behind a turf dyke which was collapsed over the top of them. This bloody moment in history is widely known as the Battle of the Spoiling Dyke.

The Damn fairy flag of the McLeods, supposedly given to them by the supernatural and it hangs in the Dunvegan, when I saw it, my instinct was to steal it.
They were brutal...
Iain Ciar MacLeod, 4th chief

Iain Ciar and his wife were a particularly infamous couple. He was described as a “tyrannical and bloodthirsty despot” who was not only hated by his enemy but also his own clansmen. His wife apparently had her two daughters buried alive in the castle dungeons for trying to escape the clan.

Alasdair Crotach, Alexander the Humpbacked, 8th chief
“The Crotach” is lauded as the MacLeods’ greatest chief. Said to have been mutilated by a strike with a MacDonald battle axe during the Battle of Bloody Bay off Mull, this belligerent warlord who was feared by many had an aesthetic side to his nature. He embraced culture: he positively encouraged dancing, poetry and music. He formed a piping college on Skye and installed the MacCrimmons as pipers to the MacLeod chiefs, a relationship that still lasts today. He built the castle’s Fairy Tower and entertained King James V to a mountain feast on Healabhal Beag, one of the MacLeod’s tables overlooking Orbost. ‘The Crotach’ spent the latter part of his final years living as a monk on Harris and died there in 1547.

The strange but true

In 1739, Norman MacLeod of Dunvegan (The Wicked) and Sir Alexander MacDonald of Sleat and others were accused of being involved in the kidnapping of 96 of their kinsmen, men, women and children with a view to selling them into slavery at £3 per head. The plot was led by Waternish tacksman Sir Norman Macleod of Berneray who managed to herd his victims onto a ship bound for the Americas. A storm wrecked the vessel off the coast of Northern Ireland and the reluctant passengers were all rescued.  They escaped justice.

He also locked his first wife in the dungeon of Dunvegan to starve slowly to death, lost the ancestral lands of Harris due to excessive spending, never visited Skye, and was a generally all around bad dude.

John MacLeod of MacLeod, 29th chief, this man was featured on the introductory video of the castle, had a prominent painting and was a classically trained actor and looked like an outstanding citizen.  His picture is everywhere....but the truth, maybe is not so great.

I had thought MacLeod was a cool dude, but then I read about him.  He was just like the rest of the elites and not unlike his ancestor Norman, anything for profit mentality.  In 2000, John MacLeod attempted to sell-off the Black Cuillin for £10million in order, he said, to restore the dilapidated roof of Dunvegan Castle. At the same time, he also put forward plans to build a 60-80 bedroom hotel and leisure complex near the village. The intended sale of Scotland’s most iconic mountain range caused public outrage and fuelled a heated debate about Scotland’s ownership. When the plans fell through and the Cuillin taken off the market, MacLeod was forced back to the table for funding ideas. A subsequent bid to the National Lottery for £25 million with a promise to hand over the Cuillin and Dunvegan Castle to the public also failed. Further controversy followed his death in 2007 when he left £15million in his will.  Pleading poverty?  Hope his death was painful.

The Black Cuillins would be like selling Yellowstone to a mining concern or Exxon.  Would he have let go the famous Fairy Pools where his kin may have gotten the famous battle flag?  Stunning mountains, the best in the whole UK.

There were birds (and other creatures) on Skye and the son did shine.

Common ringed plover
Eurasian Curlew, a lifer
Gray heron
Greylag goose
Highland cattle
hooded crow
rock pipit
Northern wheatear Don and then Leroy befriended this chicken at the old MacDonald hunting lodge nee Sconser Hotel on Skye.

Old Man of Storr, owned by the MacLeods is an over popular hike

We finally moved on 

First Glenfinnan, another MacDonald site, better known as the site of the Bridge scene in Harry Potter and everyone came to see the steam train go over it

Inadvertently on the MacDonald tour as the monument to the Jacobites and the clan is on the other side of the road

Then on to Glencoe back on the mainland in the Highlands, despite this fleeting picture, the stunning area was encased in fog and rain on our entire visit.  

Again, MacDonald land.  In 1692, the MacDonalds took in a patrol of Loyalist forces from the king during a terrible snowstorm.  Twelve days later, violating the code of the Highlands, the men, led by a Campbell, massacred somewhere over thirty men and women with children in their sleep, and forced the rest into the Highlands in a blizzard, most and unknown number died.  This even shocked the nation, but after a parliamentary investigation, nothing happened.  There have been coverups for centuries.
Can I even listen to Glenn Campbell's music again?

Lesser redpoll, a lifer, recent split from the common redpoll, British birding thinks there is 5 species of redpolls, there is probably just one, but here we say three


I needed a pub after all of this Clannish stuff, some serious pints

I was overwhelmed.  I even thought, do I contact the Clan Chief for the Irish arm of the clan?

The Clan chief is the Right and Honourable Randall Alexander St. John McDonnell, 6th Earl of Antrim even looks a bit like me., well maybe.  LOL

Do I buy a kilt with the colors?  Do I keep up the feud with the MacLeods and Campbells?  Do I join the MacDonald Society USA?  What to do...but maybe history IS bunk.  Even for me, I had way too much, and it was all surprisingly thrust upon me due to poor choices for places to go birding.  maybe it was my genes dragging me here, I do not know.  It made me want to go home.  There was too much here for me, and the damp clouds did NOT help and we had some sun.  
More to come
Olaf

Doing the Lek dance in Scotland

 A lot has shaken my confidence in the future, humanity, and just about everything recently.  Was this rook on a gravestone an omen?  No, and I’m not talking about the little issues, like “family,” “my values,” “owning a good dog,” birding,” “the joyful solitude of fishing,”  just walking in the forest or a meadow, or even the “peculiarity of cats.”  No, I mean the bigger issues…..politics, religion,  “America” as a concept, the future of humanity….etc.  At least I haven't lost my confidence in sex, however, but I guess I am now what should be referred to as a "cis-gendered male," and I am not sure really what that means or why I am that, so maybe my confidence in sex IS shaken.  I am just so....confused.

This all started with a trip to Scotland recently, so recently, I am just getting back, although it just exacerbated it.  I have been festering thinking for weeks and I've had a month of writing fatigue.  Maybe it was just the documentaries I watched on my Delta flights.  “The Fibs of American History.”  Some I knew, like Revere was not the only rider.  The Soviet nuclear threat of the 1950s was exacerbated, and the tenuous ties with the Civil War to end slavery was there.  But my new lack of faith was more.  In the UK, I read a headline.  “NASA sending nudes photos into space,” in some sort of misguided attempt to attract aliens, maybe they’ll get lustful and come….?  IDK. To be fair, I did not read the article.  There has been talk about Artificial Intelligence and how it was going to “improve life on Earth.”  Soon AI controlled drones could be directed from a remote location to “bring peace.”  I began to think….has ANYONE read science fiction?  How many episodes of Star Trek, the movie series Star Wars, or Terminator have the people in charge not watched?  Are they that naïve?   All I can say, is NOTHING nothing good can ever come of Alien contact, just ask the Incan, How many native islanders of Easter island are there?  Maybe a US Native tribe?  Pick one, anyone.

In the middle of this, I spent a week with Silja and two friends at a nature center in Scotland, Aigas, owned by a Baronet, Sir John Lister-Kaye.  The place meant well and is trying to save Scottish Wildcats and beavers, plus other things like the pine marten and the badger, but as we drove about, what I saw was the elite core of the UK, a various Who is Who of the UK aristocracy.  These landowners, ones with bigger titles than sir John, and leaders entrenched in the House of Lords in London and in Edinburgh, totally in control of the land, and managing it much like Facebook, Google, and Amazon manages the internet (for profit). Management is all for hunting, hunting lodges, and anything that might be a predator, even the lowly magpie, has been shot, killed, and stuffed.  I found two stuffed eagles at the Aigas manor, unconscionable…..the best thing in America is the protection of raptors and migratory birds with a huge fine for shooting one.  In the somewhat secret case of windmills killing them, corporate fines…..is it perfect?  NO, but here we have a place with a VERY well represented Green party, giving more talk on Kyoto and whatever than in the USA, and….the employed gamekeepers shoot magpies…( I challenge anyone to find one in the Highlands of Scotland or see a close up eagle.

Aigas Manor, our home for the week
Our cabin for the week, MacIntosh Manor

Enough rant....well maybe not.

Scotland………I just do not know what to say, it is a place mismanaged for over population by red deer, managed for the elite to shoot, and to go on ptarmigan hunts to just shoot hundreds of birds because, I guess, they can.   It is a place of much water, BUT few ducks.  I say, back in just Day County South Dakota, there are more ducks in a 20 mile by 20 mile square than the whole of Scotland.  One good sized bay between Port Angeles and Neah Bay Washington, has more sea ducks, and eider, yeah, I do not what to think about it.

Not a single duck on Loch Ness, nor a monster for that matter, I guess they were full from eating ducks

In all of this, I went to a lek.  The highlight of my trip as it would turn out.

We met up with the local expert on a reserve, I would lead my four intrepid travelers, Don and Nancy Harrington and my wife and I, two days earlier by pure happenstance to look for tree pipits and whatever else we could find, and inadvertently walk past a very nice black grouse lek, which we would return at the crack of dawn to see the birds.

Black grouse male
Black grouse hens

In two leks we saw 20 males and 3 hens, doing the dance of life and spring.  The black grouse is a pretty widespread species, essentially Scotland all the way across the north into Siberia, and its dance was sort of a sharp tailed grouse meets black grouse, or a prairie chicken with more noise.  There was fighting, or mock fighting as the case make be.  Some spinning, and a dance like the “B-52” takeoff of sharp-tails, but mostly we saw posturing and a couple of males just squawking for their mates to return. 

Some more pictures……

They were a life bird, one of 14 for the trip and the number one bird I was looking for.  The tree pipit was also a lifer, and essentially the only ones we saw.  They had their own acrobatics, sort of a skylark meets a bit of a snipe.

It is a strange thing, thinking about life in a grouse lek, with numb toes, shivering legs, and a having ones fingers shake from the cold so much, that the photos tend to get blurry, but in 2022, my only grouse lek will end up being a black grouse’s lek…..hopefully, I still have many leks in me.  But such is like, one needs to enjoy what they can of it.

Tree pipit, first lifer of the trip

I think the black grouse are holding their own here, but I'm sure someone would want to shoot them.

I have been thinking a lot lately.  Introspection is good to a point, I guess.  In days before my trip, I went to memorial to an old friend of my, in some ways, a kindred spirit, but in others very different.  I would love to just show some of what are probably Bill’s favorite moments besides his wife Joyce and family, but well, I am not sure if all 1970s photos can be handled by the majority here.  Others Woodstock photos a probably best left censored or in the drawers.  Bill was also an atheist.  His was the first atheist funeral that was pretty upbeat I have been to…..the problem with humanism and atheism have always been the voids at the end.  Being the ever historian, Joyce gave me some old photos of lost Halcion days, and they made me laugh, and made me smile, and made me wonder what I was going to do with them…..I am not sure about atheism…..it is hard not to look at a grouse lek and see God, others may just see nature. It is easy to see the Devil at work…..hw is working right now in Ukraine and maybe many of the world’s capitals.   

The Devil may also me seen in a Uber-rich Malaysian owning an estate in some Glen in Scotland with a game keeper managing the place only for deer, filled with starving stags, and forever altered environment due to overgrazing and refusal to manage the population down.  It is also hard to support Green House gas initiatives over apparent hypocrisy in tearing up carbon holding peat moors to put up a windmills, that may, may just go carbon Neutral in year 20 of their existence while it kills eagles, hawks, and the roads to an from it are covered in plastic little.  Just drive the streets near the Glasgow airport, to see good old fashioned 1970s American littered roads.  I Guess the windmill manufacturers are laughing all the way to the bank.  Plus, who is going to tear down the old oil drilling rigs anchored and rusting away in ports on the east side of Scotland, like at Crawley? 

Oil derricks at anchor rusting in Crawley Scotland 

Are they going to do it in 10, 20, 40 years?  Is it going to end up looking like the old castle ruins of the previous estate owners with too much money who would rather hang out with the kings and Lords than actually take care and manage their property?  These old ruins sit abandoned and neglected in the moors and points of view and are now called historical sites.  If there EVER was a place that screams property redistribution it is Scotland.

Maybe I am confusing the Scottish National Party (the SNP and the party that wants Scottish independence) as a party that cares about the country not only in who leads them.  It all seems like History revisiting from the Jacobite insurrection of three hundreds years ago, something I will revisit next time, in my “Clans” blog, and yes, I am not just a product of Swedish ancestry from Grangarde Sweden— an insignificant town halfway between Ludvika and Falun Sweden. I have deep roots in the Scottish moors, possibly too deep, it is ancestry I have largely ignored, but it is there, and I stumbled upon it, like I always do.   I am not sure I even want to deal with it, either.

This is all above my pay grade, and I am punching above my weight.  I have my own religion thoughts, and I gave up trying to convert anyone long ago to anything. I am just a philosophical birder, maybe birding is my religion?  I am a father of three, husband of a wife who for reasons unknown took hop on Olaf’s bus of (mis)adventure, and who is a bad writer, and I can't even convert them.  

Aigas was a nice visit....

Badger (Eurasian), different from ours
Our group of UK birding enthusiasts

The Eurasian pine marten

Some of the garden birds at Aigas were not common to us, but I had seen most before
wood pigeon
willow warbler
white (oied) wagtail
common firecrest

European Robin "Bob"
Great spotted woodpecker

Finally, a lifer and a bird that eluded me on the grounds for six days, a Dunnock

and saw some vistas in many of the glens on private estates looking for...eagles and scoured the lochs for...ospreys.   

Newborn lambs were everywhere, and sometime there a hour after we walked past
At the moment I am just travelling home, trying to get home, on a just crazy 24 hours, I may NEVER write about and I have a to prepare a Zoom talk on birds of the South Atlantic, again, more on that later, and I am glad that I am leaving Scotland sit and ripen like a cask of Ben Nevis Scotch, and Scotland, likes it signature alcohols needs to mellow, it is still like gasoline in my mouth and I am still high over Iceland, too close to be objective.

I am going to now watch “Little Miss Sunshine” on the Plane’s entertainment system, a happy fictional memoir centered on “body image” and a satirical look at pre-pubescent beauty pageants….more OMG…I switched to "Yesterday"  a story of what if the Beatles never existed but a guy remembered their music and sings it..that was better.  I need to revisit old Bill’s treasure trove of photos…maybe they will cheer me up.

Sending nude pictures into space?  WT....F

this was just the start of a very long trip, so more soon....I got a lot to say but on simpler topics like....Scottish Caravans, Clans, and well, more birds....

Olaf        

Nearly Beaten and Busted searching for Boris

I have never worked so hard on a bird, enduring nine days of freezing temperatures, snow, and wind.  The last three days I have stood out on a bridge over the Back River in Maine waiting, looking, and hoping.  I joked to a person next to me, saying that this was like going to Ocho Rios in Jamaica, camping out on a top of a building overlooking the main road and waiting for Keith Richards to pass (he owns a house nearby on the island) and thinking, maybe I could get a photo, maybe he'll stop and get out of his car.  Maybe...I do not know what will happen.
I have never been on a bird stakeout filled with such vitriol.  Yesterday, after hearing apparently something from a call (they did not note details) we had police watching us, not to see if we were doing anything wrong, but to protect us.  Had we been threatened? Nothing happened of note yesterday, we were harassed and taunted by roaring motors. This morning, however, we were greeted with a new sign chained to the bridge and it had an ominous look.  Why would you take the time to make a sign and chain it out on a bridge in the middle of the night?
Others had a dead crow thrown at them this week.  I almost got into a fight with some guy this morning at 7AM , as he told us "we were going to get someone killed here on this bridge." As I noted that he was the one stopping in the middle of the bridge and causing a traffic issue, but I got the feeling that was NOT what he meant.  The guy next to me thought the person who was going to get killed was maybe me, as in he (or someone) was going to shoot me (or someone).  The man stormed off in his pickup but zipped by a little later at 70MPH gunning his engine.  Officer Chad did not show up today, it made us a little uneasy.  It made me uneasy at least.  Yesterday he put up warning signs, handed us reflective vests, and placed warning cones, but the swearing at us continued.  Asshole, F u, motherf$^, you name it.Arrowsic Bridge outside Georgetown Maine
I ask .....Are we that dangerous?  We stayed behind the white line.  Why are people so angry? What is their problem? I got a discount for being a birder at my motel, people seemed polite, it is not all Mainers.  I do not know why some hated us so.  It was not this bad in Boothbay.
All this fuss to find the hold grail of birds and one that noted ornithologist David Sibley described "if seeing this bird was rated between a scale of one and a ten, it would be an eleven."  
The story of the Steller's Sea Eagle, a Russian bird never seen in the lower 48 even Canada for that matter, named either Boris or Stella, (no one knows its sex) is a long story that may even involve doctored pictures for a supposed Texas detour, that was maybe made up, but what are the odds of fraud for a bird so outlandish, so un-probable, to have it then, show up a few months later?  Think about that......It is like winning the lottery twice in a row.
 If I was going to make up a sighting through a photoshopped picture in Texas, it would NEVER be a Steller's sea eagle, it is just too crazy.  
Its journey from the Russian Kamchatka region or northern Japan to Alaska to maybe Texas, then to Quebec, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia (briefly), to Massachusetts , and now Maine has been massive with or without Texas and something no one ever dreamed would happen.  Seeing this bird in Washington state would be crazy, but Maine?
It has been a ghost, showing up, disappearing, and/or showing up where no one can see it.  People not wanting the hoards of birders to visit their yards, delayed intel, no intel.  I have spent 9 days looking for it, on three trips, and all I had to show for it were frozen fingers, a stiff back, and just shivering.   There are no bathrooms and no places to eat.  The stakeout is not really fun, but you have to try to see this bird.  This is the best bird EVER.
Oh though the birding gods through Boris mocked me. Twice the bird had been seen the morning I got there, and sat in a tree for hours the day before.  But for me nowhere.  
Yesterday, even the unthinkable happened, having controlled my liquid intake, a 1230 after 6 hours on my feet, I decided to make a break to town, get a sandwich go to the bathroom and come back, I had to go. I left at 1231, I drove down the road fast when I got a text while pulling into the grocery store, ..........bird seen at 1235.  Now I was swearing.  Of all the luck.
I came back quickly, without food, but I had to go, so I went.  The bird made a 10 second flyover, then maybe sat in a tree for a few seconds before it was done.  "Keith Richards" did not even slow down to look at the crowd.  Not even everyone on the bridge saw it.  It was like a select few.  Many were taking a warmup break in their cars and they were like me, out of luck.  Afterwards, there was even some dispute.  One guy took a photo but it was a Juvie Bald Eagle, so did they even see it.  Was it mass hallucinations?  I don't know, all I know is that I saw a bathroom, and no bird.
I watched futilely the rest of daylight and a Facebook friend even gave me a potential lifer beer for luck as he drove past me on the bridge.  It at least was not a dead crow.   It was nice and it edged the pain back in Bath as I drank it as just a plain old beer.  O needed more alcohol but watched a silly movie and fell asleep. 
I felt beaten, though, and then after a groggy night, and a morning I could not drink coffee as I had to restrict liquids, I decided I'd hang on for another day, see what happened, I could stay until 10 and catch the normal flight, and even later and go home through Detroit.  The day unlike the other, went fast.  Hardly anything was flying.  I watched a bluebird sing.
Someone spotted a harbor seal, the day before we had a mink swim and then scurry past us down below
Red breasted mergansers fed below us....

and the best bird....a red throated loon, as I had not seen one of those for a couple of years, it was a worthy consolation, or so I thought.  We hoped the tide would come in and get the birds moving but the tide came in and nothing flew.  
Ten o'clock came and went, the weather was nice, quite nice the nicest day in Maine so far, and generally after the shipbuilding plant shift change was over, we were stopped being swore at, someone brought coffee ,and I told stories.  I looked at the late flight and the price had gone to 1800 dollars to get to Tampa, I could not leave, that was too much.  It was like I was stuck there, Groundhogs Day movie or something.  Hell for birders, is the never ending --never seeing stake out, when you are constantly moving to a new sight but never seeing the bird.  One birder after another who had been there for days left.  We began to wonder, what if the bird IS dead?  Would the USFWS even find them for killing a raptor.  One guy thought they would not have the correct gun.  I know that was wrong.  I grew up in rural Wisconsin.  They all have a GOOD RIFLE for this, don't fool yourselves.
https://www.npr.org/2022/01/14/107270...picture from the NPR article NOT mine.
I did not pray to the birding gods, there was no dance or pagan ritual to do, I was just stuck on a bridge waiting.  I was tired, sore, sick of Maine, sick, of locals harassing us, and sick of birding.  My faith had been tested and I lost, the birding gods had done me in.  My nemesis bird was now named Boris.  I'd been beaten by a bird!  I soldiered on, but was having severe bin-fatigue and then at 211 PM, something odd happened.  Tate, a regional birder, younger guy, dressed like he was more out at the beach than a bird stakeout in the cold quietly and with little doubt stated flatly, "got our bird."
There was the mad scramble to get on it, four eagles at distance ketteling high up in the sky but after days of doubt of how to recognize the noble creature in flight, there was no doubt.  It was a clear as seeing your mother, as knowing home, or seeing your own toes.  Big bird with white forewing patches catching the light so bright, even flying straight at you you could see the dark head, white mid-wing, dark wings.  We moved around on the bridge to get angles and watched the aerial show for 20 minutes as it circled lazy a long ways out, coming a little closer but not much and then all the birds vanished.  It was done.  I had seen Boris, the grandest eagle, and on a February 21, 2022, I saw three species of eagles in the lower 48 states, Bald, Golden, and Steller-sea eagles, we had a golden fly over which itself is a great bird.  Yes, it would have been nice to have taken a photo, see it perched up close but, I was just lucky to have seen the bird, but it did not matter, I saw the blasted thing, it was a glimpse but had no doubt, and I enjoyed the show, helped as many people get on it as possible, and well, survived Boris and Maine.....whew!!!!
God was talking to Adam in heaven, they were planning about Eve and how she'd look when Adam saw a old shriveled up being in the corner.  "Who is that?" Adam asked.  God looked at the being and sighed.  "That is Keith Richards, he was here when I got here."
Many say that there is some higher meaning to this bird, and maybe the Rolling Stone analogy is mine.  It is just lucky to see somebody famous pass us by in life.  The eagle story now has me in it.  I saw it, and we are connected.  I saw Jesse Jackson ahead of me in a SAS flight line in Sweden once, we are connected.  I passed Alice Cooper at the door of a hotel in Iceland, and we are connected.  I can still see his cheap plastic $1 shoes and now .....I saw Boris the eagle in Maine.  I do not think there is anything more than that.  There was no nirvana, and no spiritual awakening, I did not have an epiphany, nothing like that at all.  I saw a bird.  
The bat falcon is pretty rare bird and well, I felt the same, more just relief again, like this after some more brutal punishing stakeouts.  I am not sure what I feel, actually, besides painful fingers, sore legs and back, and well, I need clean clothes.  I smell.  Having chased so many birds, maybe each one now loses some of the punch.
Uber birder and lister Paul Sykes got his Steller's on a glacier in Alaska after a helicopter ride years ago, I asked him in 2016 what he felt after that, or any thoughts on such a crazy chase?  Maybe what was his better chase?  He looked at me and said, "we don't think that way."  He just wanted to know what the next bird was and where to get it, Paul apparently had no higher meaning to his Steller's, just a check on a checklist.  You know what I really felt?  The taste of a damn nice lifer beer.  Wow, a beer had never tasted so good!  It was one I earned, really earned, and now, my life can move on.

Tate, you saved my soul, many thanks to whoever and wherever you are, I owe you some sanity and another magnificent bird.
Olaf

Day 5: Lifer super chase: A bridge (and a bird) too far.

Somedays, one wonders if a plan is just too much, too ambitious and despite valiant efforts one may just be trying to attain the unattainable.  In 1944 in an effort to end World War II, the British Army concocted Operation Markey Garden, to recapture Dutch territory and get a bridgehead on the Rhine into Germany, but despite a big plan, the project was just a "Bridge to far," to steal a movie title about the event.

Quite possibly attempting to get five lifers in five days in four states was, like this 1944 plan, attempting too much and attempting to get a bird too far, and in this case a stakeout on an old and somewhat rickety swing bridge (The Southport Bridge, Boothbay Maine), so my trip to Maine was a bridge and a bird too far....

It was the big dipper of bird chases, for the biggest eagle, and a big nothing. 

Stakeout at the closed Aquarium overlooking Boothbay Harbor

It was a cold 2 1/2 days on a stakeout in snow, heavy wind, and cold, but luckily it was not on the Beaufort scale cold like it was here a few days ago OR like it will be in a few days. I had had a marvelous week of 4 lifers, but after the exhausting two plus days and a day of getting there and back, I was frustrated, beaten. and happy to get home, and I had forgotten the past success.  Like life, birding for big listers is much about the high or low from your last chase, a tick or a dip, and what I will remember about my time looking for the great Steller's Sea Eagle, the king (or queen) of Birds, a huge, one of a kind bird that should not be anywhere close to the Northeast, in fact even seeing one in the Bering Sea islands is a once in a lifetime event.  

So I missed the bird on Tuesday by about three hours, it has not been seen anywhere since. This bird has been seen at least in Quebec, New Brunswick, Massachusetts, Maine, in later 2021, but in March 2021, it (well probably) was seen in Goliad County, Texas, and then in 2020 it was seen and photographed in Central Alaska (which is confirmed the same bird), so this eagle has wondered around the North America some 7000 miles.  

From the Bangor newspaper, I hope to someday get another chance

This morning, the sounds of dozens of long-tailed ducks calling and echoing across the bay was almost as cool as seeing the majestic eagle.  Long-tailed ducks are handsome critters and their incessant calling was neat.  A new group of searchers showed but after an hour of nothing, many wandered off for breakfast or places unknown.  It is hard to stay at a stakeout as long as one may need to.

Long-tailed ducks, handsome even in winter.

Red Breasted meganser
Common Loon

I also saw three species of Alcids, Common murre, black guillimot, and razorbills Black duck at sunrise before the snow yesterday

How does one evaluate what ended up being a six-day adventure with seven flight segments, three rental cars, maybe a thousand miles of driving, and some really bad meals? All in all, it was a good trip, maybe a bit long, and it ended badly, but heck....it was a big epic bird chase, maybe too big.  Maybe the eagle will even head towards Florida.  These eagles go to the southern islands of Japan in the winter.  

It is good to be home.  I was able to jump and earlier flight in Baltimore yesterday afternoon and still, no eagle reports.......but I was exhausted.  I need to get in better birding shape and in shape in general.

You may want to ask me, would I do this again? I will say it now, that I will never have the opportunity to do this again.  Mostly, because I will never have 5 lifer birds on the ground at the same time.  It was a fluke occurrence. The odds are so against it, that I was somewhat shocked it happened.  Of course if it wasn't for sloth and COVID I would not have had this happen, so it was good that I finally....finally got going and out birding.

Maybe it was a bridge too far, and an old rickety bridge, but it was a good bridge, just as it was a bird too far, but it was such a good bird, that if it is refound, I'll probably jump a Frontier or Southwest flight to get myself back up there

Until them, stay warm out there.

Olaf