I just can’t help myself. I had a chance to sneak in one more trip along the River Road and couldn’t resist. This week’s mission: find out why there is such a fuss about the annual fall migration of tundra swans.
Tundra swans (Cygnus columbianus) spend half of their lives getting from place to place. After this summer, I can relate. The swans that pass through the Upper Mississippi Valley winter along the coasts of Virginia and North Carolina, some 4200 miles from their nesting grounds along the Arctic Circle in Alaska and Canada. These swans are big birds – about 4 feet tall with 7 foot wingspans and weighing 15-20 pounds. They are about as white as white can get, with black beaks and black feet. They are also damn fast. Swans in formation (and a good tailwind) have been clocked flying up to 100 miles an hour – damn, that’s fast! With the ability to reach altitudes up to 8,000 feet, they can be hazardous to aviation. Collisions between tundra swans and aircraft have been blamed for at least two fatal crashes – fatal to the birds and to the people, I assume.
Every year in early to mid-November, thousands of tundra swans use the Upper Mississippi Valley as a way station, resting and feeding in areas from the Minnesota/Iowa border to just north of Winona. This is what got my attention – the possibility of seeing hundreds or thousands of big white birds vacationing in the river. Updates on their migration numbers just before I left home suggested that the best viewing spots would be around Brownsville, Minnesota, just a few miles north of the Iowa border. When I reached that stretch of the river early Friday afternoon, I was not disappointed. The river was dotted with specks of white as far as I could see. After a few minutes of scouting around for places to hang out and watch, I parked south of Brownsville and walked along the railroad tracks until I reached a small point of land that jutted out into the river. With the tip protected by vegetation, this little point of land came with camouflage.
I learned a few important things from this experience. 1) Bring something to sit on. The ground was wet, so something to protect my butt from getting moist would have been nice. 2) Birds are skittish. I had a hard time getting very close before they fled, even if I approached slowly and quietly. The swans didn’t really spook, they just kept swimming further away from me. The ducks, (canvasbacks, I think) took flight as soon as I got within a couple hundred feet. I can’t really blame them. It was duck hunting season, a point driven home to me (and them) every few minutes by the occasional muted ‘pop-pop’ of a shotgun echoing across the water. 3) It can get really boring hiding under weeds, alone, for a stretch of time. I may need to bring something to read next time. 4) My 70-300mm zoom lens is fabulous, and I really like it, but it is also temperamental. I still have much to learn about using it. Sitting under weeds trying to get pictures of birds in flight is not the best time to be learning how to use it.
I gave up my stake out at this location after an hour, because the birds kept getting further away from me, and I only had another hour or so of decent light. So I walked back to the car and drove a few miles further north to a new public viewing area. Lo and behold, there were dozens of swans just below the viewing area who were not spooked by the humans and their cars. Imagine that – a good viewing area where I don’t have to crouch in the weeds and get my ass wet.
I stayed put for another half hour or so, but I have to admit that I preferred the first spot. It’s hard to feel like an adventurous wildlife photographer when you are snapping pics just five feet from your car and when you are standing next to a more senior woman gleefully snapping away with a small point and shoot camera.
Today’s Bad Decision: Forgetting to check Saturday’s weather forecast on Friday night. This is Wisconsin in November, after all, and conditions can change quickly. Friday was a beautiful day, with late afternoon sun and temps in the upper 40s lulling me into complacency. Imagine my surprise waking up to snow on Saturday morning. Even though the snow didn’t amount to much, it fell steadily throughout the day. It was enough to stop me from spending more time pretending to be a wildlife photographer. I just wasn’t prepared to subject my new camera equipment to the cold and the moisture for a few more pictures of birds.
Happy Thanksgiving, y’all!
© Dean Klinkenberg, 2007
