The Second Week - Day 7: That Mystical and Illusive Creature

The Second Week - Day Seven: That Mystical and Illusive Creature

6/13/12:

June thirteenth was the day that I discovered exactly how much I liked birds. Which is to say, not nearly as much as Quentin, but well enough at that.

Today, Yelena and I stretched our awkward little wings and departed from the safe haven of the arch crew to venture forth into the frightening world of wildlife biology. After a week of good times, Neil had loaned us out to Roger and John, the KNF Wildlife Biologists. Following much deliberation (not really), we were shuffled further down the totem pole to the dregs of the bio department: the other interns.

I can’t speak for Yelena, but I was horribly uncomfortable. Sure, we were all KNF interns (the interns), but Quentin and Joe were both college grads and actually seemed to know things about things. Sure we got paid more (thank you Grinnell funding gods), but they actually knew what they were doing.

Not that a whole lot of knowledge was essential for Goshawk surveying. We tromped off in twos into the KNF, Yelena with Quentin, Joe with me. I had the “Caller of the Wild” or squawk box, and Joe was in charge of the GPS and map. At designated points, we would stop and standing back to back, I would dial the “Caller of the Wild” to the Goshawk distress call and let ring. It was a pretty easy recipe: play distress call five times, listen and watch for Goshawk response, see nada, speed-walk to the next point, repeat.

Repeat, repeat, repeat, add internal diatribe on people with freakishly long legs (Joe is 6’5”), repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat.

Repeat something like twenty times while very rapidly becoming disenchanted with the whole process. In theory, the high-pitched shriek should elicit either an audible or visible response from any nearby Goshawks; in reality (determined after six hours of survey) the only thing it elicited was a rather fierce headache.

Contact between Joe and I was limited: he walked fast, I was awkward, he had his earplugs in (wisely) for most of the morning, I was too out of breath to say anything anyway. When we did speak, the memorable bits were about food; specifically, my love of orange juice and Joe’s love of everything edible. Yup, he’s a foodie. My opportunistic self (tired of surviving on hot dogs, cherry tomatoes, and cereal) could not have been more thrilled. Was this the light at the end of the tunnel? Could I convince him to cook for me? Amidst the artificial screams of a very angry bird, a dream was born.

The wildlife bios, being an unusual breed, also kept unusual hours. So it was at dusk that Yelena, Joe, Quentin and I accompanied Roger to Kendrick Mountain to finish out our day with a Mexican Spotted Owl (MSO) survey. We hiked two miles up the trail, staked out a spot in the trees, watched an Arizonian run bellowing a war cry down the trail, and waited for dark to settle.

And then we hooted.

Roger got us started, his call indistinguishable from that of a MSO. Quentin followed with a decent imitation, Joe’s was above average, and I sounded like a dying cow. After twenty minutes of hooting and listening, Roger took us back down the trail to the second and last point. A few hoots later, we were rewarded with both a call and the fluttering wings of a MSO. Quentin and Joe, who had been surveying Bill Williams Mountain for MSOs for weeks without so much as a squawk, got overly excited as only bios would.

Walking down the trail in the dark (myself sans a headlight, essential camping gear as Quentin was to later inform me), Roger talked about strange creature sightings in the KNF and a colleague who swore he’d seen something other.

Frankly, I’d have been happy to see that mystical and illusive creature, the Goshawk. 


Photos: 1. Night view of Bill Williams Mountain 2. AZ bumper sticker 3. Heading back to Williams at dusk