On the Move: Getting into the Good Stuff

By end of May everything was packed up, vacated, discontinued, etc. We were essentially homeless, jobless, and heading across country in our pod-topped Outback with an 11 month-old, hoping to go 6 to 7 hours a day. We puddle-hopped in 2-hour stints from McDonalds to Chik-fil-A, or anywhere else that had a "Play Place" along the I-10, I-40, or I-20.

P.S. Ball pits don't exist anymore, sad but understandable.

The light at the end of the tunnel was not our final destination, but western North Carolina and the mountains, where we rendezvoused with grandparents to recoup for a few days in Maggie Valley. The view in the evening was pretty good. The view in the morning was even better.

...if you're into the Great Smokies and what not

Like fancy hotels and aggressively advertising crappy apartments, the NC mountains offer many amenities, though the montane amenities are of a much more natural and holistic aesthetic. For the grandparents, it was all about the bucolic drives and quaint roadside stands toting knick-knacks and mountain honey. For B's Bs Jr. it was just about comfortably being outside, in general, for once. For Mrs. B's Bs and I it was all about the critters and the fungi, and of course, The Birds.

Now is the time for Wild Turkeys and chicks. 

We dallied in the Great Smokies in mid-June, and as such we had missed the larger concentrations of birds one might catch during migration (and many birds were much higher in the canopy now, if still very vocal), but we still experience an fantastic variety of fauna. The mountain ponds contained outrageous numbers of tadpoles. A couple of cool mystery newts/salamanders were basking as well.

Internet identification has been typically ineffective for these guys. I'm not sure if it's my own poor searching or if these are some intermediate stage of salamander species and I'm only seeing mature phases.

Pre-pubescent Eastern Newt and Slimy (Dusky?) Salamander made for easier IDs, and at the other size of the Great Smoky size spectrum, we had roadside looks at Elk while traveling the Blue Ridge Parkway just after sunrise. 

Such majesty...

There was also plenty of cool flora to appreciate, such as this super water-logged disintegrating vine. I had never noticed nor appreciated the structure of the vine as it came apart, revealing sheet-layers of fiber. There were also some enterprising vines that, tired of a life of parasitism and living in the hardwoods' shadows, seemed to be making a tree unto themselves.

Mrs. Butler's Birds and I recently listened to some very interesting podcasts about the subterranean communication and exchange networks between fungus and tree roots, with fungal networks exchanging minerals for sugar with tree roots, facilitating flow from tree to tree, and even seeking out organic life--little bugs and such--and ensnaring it to be processed. 

Also, emerging evidence is that some plants can sense the presence of water from vibration alone and they can learn to react or not react to certain stimuli over time. In other words, if the AI or the octopi don't come for us, the trees will finish us off. M. Night Shyamalan was right all along...but the first prophets are always stoned. It's best to play it safe.

                     

"The fields have eyes and the woods have ears" --Chaucer

Anyway, there were plenty of cool Appalachian fungus (they may be less socially evolved than more metropolitan fungus, but are much more wholesome and down-home).We have a guide book now, but have not even begun to climb the first slope of the learning curve.  I will have to work on IDs for these at a later time and provide some proxy IDs until then.

Orange-capped Bark Propper

White-scaled Trunk-stacker

Fulminating Slime-Piler

On the auditory scale, the birding was great. There were many species, including wood warbler varieties, singing on territory. However, unless one could find a ridge, road, or trail portion that elevated up to canopy level, the visual logs lagged far behind. 

Northern Parulas are always gregarious though and we did have a couple that weren't too busy to check us out in various poses.

This reminds me of a Cuckoo posture

Dark-eyed Juncos were everywhere. They were at every elevation, in every habitat, making all manner of varied calls, chips, and songs. It was kind of frustrating to be honest, but one can't help but admire their success. So here's an acknowledgement, one such individual of many hundreds. Respect, Junco. Please try to sound less like other birds. I swear they're mimids sometimes.

Keeping excursions balanced with the rest of the crew's wants & needs, we made a couple of forays on Black Balsam Mountain in pursuit of an overdue lifer, a buzzy flash of orange up high in the mixed hardwoods. The first few days were actually pretty crummy weather, overcast and windy. We dipped on the first of our three attempts at Flat Ridge Trail. We did pick up a pretty adorable consolation prize, so no complaints.

On Day 2 we hiked from the Black Balsam Campground to a little higher elevation, actually where the previous day's trail would end as well, had we time to finish. The morning 'smoke' burned off to an unusually clear day, and near the Heintooga Overlook we heard that much lusted for buzzy warble. Alas, when we looked up, there was only a Waxwing being weird.



Our quarry was high, and small, and flighty as all get out. It was also an astounding combination of bold oranges and blacks, and we chased the flashes of flame through the verdant canopies for a while in search of the SSV (soul satisfying view).

We had two males and a female near the terminus of Flat Ridge and Balsam Mtn. Nature Trail, be the Heintooga Overlook. I thrashed and crashed around like a 3-legged Elk (but even less majestic) while Mrs. Butler's Birds opted to recline and stay put. Obviously she's the one who had a male BLWA foraging like 10 feet away from her face. Good thing she had the wherewithal to snap this photo shortly before her face melted. 

                       

Insert caption to make this an REI advertisement for boots or a fleece or something: "Wherever you go, go with comfort."

Sweet, sweet lifering. It has been a while, and I have missed the feeling in all the ways and means. What a crippler. A Top 10 Best Looking North American Bird? Most probably.

Maggie Valley is about as close as you can get to the Great Smokey NP, but it's still 20-30 minutes of single-lane mountain roads to the nearest trailheads (albeit on beautiful stretches of Blue Ridge Parkway). The drives are loaded with scenic vistas, but between the early morning fog and the roadside elk, it can be a little nerve-racking as well. Having some Black-throated warblers near our lodge was thus both convenient and wonderful. The Greens stayed in the highest strata but the Blues would forage within view. I bore witness to a geometrid holocaust every afternoon while poking around the local woods. 

All different birds (presumably) with all different worms (even more presumably)

Between the steady overcast and heavy shade, conditions were never great for photos, but they were great for observations, and I saw many the cute little inch worm snatched and thrashed to pieces by the voracious and appropriately re-classified setophaga (moth eater).

I don't know what sort of moth the inchworm larva become, but this impressive specimen was hanging around the lodge the first two nights, and then hanging around dead the third day. He was almost BTBW-sized himself. 

I snuck out for a couple hours on the day of our departure, planning to bird a little lower in less specialized but more birdy habitat. Butler's Birds UNLEASHED coming up next time (although it got cut short because the kid woke up early, we had to hit to road, etc...so re-leashed pretty quickly).

Thank You for Smoking: Birding Appalachia Part II (Getting High)

The foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains offer much by way of diverse flora and fauna. So much greenery and water makes one feel transported to a rainforest more so than the Tennessee/Carolina border, and yet there still is something lacking. A good birder and a good American desires more, he or she desires not only the lush, but also the hard and craggy. One must climb ever upward, to the Appalachian balds and the hardy spruce/fir forests that dwell there. It's like Caspar David Friedrich's ideal picnic. In the early mornings these primordial mountains exhale deeply, linking earth and sky with an intoxicating timeless mist and blurring everything in between.

P.S. It's super tricky to bird in said mist. 

This is the sort of place one can get lost. This is the sort of place one hopes to get lost. This is the sort of place one loses oneself. This is also the place one finds some birds.

With those who were willing and able, we went on an 9 mile hike along the Charlie's Bunion portion of the Appalachian trail, moving between 4,500 and 6,100 feet, up from the deciduous forest to the ancient evergreen peaks. Sunlight was a rare thing and dryness rarer still. From the bowels of heavy growth and pervasive mist, Veeries chimed and Black-throated Green Warblers buzzed in a perpetual homage to the smoking mountains. Once above 5,500 feet, I was reacquainted with a recent lifer and what I believe to be one of the most aesthetically successful Warblers.
There was also an actual lifer in the form of this Blue-headed Vireo, but it's best not to dwell on that.

The Black-headed Blue Warblers were still defining and defending territory, and their periodic outburts also tended to stir up other birds including Canada Warblers, Golden-crowned Kinglets, and the inevitable hordes of Dark-eyed Juncos. Black-throated Blue Warbler is so damned good-looking I want to tear my face off and put it back on upside down. Yeah, you heard me.

Rather surprising to me was the abundance of amphibians, given the altitude and temperature (but less surprising given the moisture). Apparently this area, the southern Appalachians, has more Salamander diversity than anywhere else in the world, or so sayeth wikipedia. The Southern Two-lined Salamander was about two inches long and skinnier than a pencil. The Appalachian Red was about double that, and equally shy, while the mighty and better-armored Northern Dusky Salamander adults (the most common species in mountain streams) dwarfed them both.

There were times hiking along the ridge when we'd pause and look out into straight nothing. The low-stratus clouds emanating from the mountains were so thick we could not see the range on either side of our trail, but as the morning drew on eventually the smoke gave way and shapes took form.

The termination of Charlies's Bunion was supposedly named by one surveyor in honor of his accompanying buddy's gigantic toe affliction that he revealed upon resting in that area. Given the heavy vegetation it was hard to tell exactly the to-scale dimensions of said bunion, but the tree-line birds did not pay that ambiguity much mind. 

The dour weather dampened the birding overall, but Black-throated Blues would have been compensation enough. Chestnut-sided Warbler was another potential lifer for others in our group however, and I had been puzzling at their absence all morning, since in previous experience at this altitude they were the most common behind Black-throated Green. 

All worry was put to rest on our descent, perhaps when the birds were more confident their parades would not be precipitated upon. Upon hearing their calls at long last I ran down the trail to catch up with Pops, only to hear him likewise calling back that he was, "Surrounded by singing Chestnuts and in danger." Indeed. Awesome.

Unfortunately we did not have enough time for further exploration and pursuit of Blackburnian, as well as Ruffed Grouse, but the hike was gorgeous It was like that level of totally comprehensive, soul-shaking gorgeous that sticks with you weeks later and sustains you through torrid summer working conditions...