[at-l] Trip Report: Searching for the Ivory Billed Woodpecker(LOOOONG!)

[Jason Ball <jball65@shaw.ca> (Jason Ball)]

Shane,
This was like reading from a satirical novel I have about the south. Not to
poke fun but I read it and chuckled the whole way through. Your character
development made me think they was reel people. <VBG>
Keep the hike reports coming.
Jakealoo
----- Original Message -----
From: "Shane Steinkamp" <shane@theplacewithnoname.com>
To: "AT-List" <at-l@mailman.backcountry.net>
Sent: Monday, March 25, 2002 12:57 PM
Subject: [at-l] Trip Report: Searching for the Ivory Billed Woodpecker
(LOOOONG!)


> Well, after dragging all my gear out of the closet, I couldn't help but go
> hiking.  This turned out to be lucky, since one of my erstwhile hiking
> buddies called me out of the blue on Thursday night.  Slim is an avid bird
> watcher and has evidently been very excited over the recent 'sighting' of
an
> Ivory Billed Woodpecker in Pearl River Louisiana.  He's been out looking
for
> it, and he wanted to know if I wanted to come out with him and look for
the
> birds this weekend.  He'd gotten lost last weekend, and needed somebody to
> keep an eye on him while he kept an eye out for the birds.
>
> Now, I had heard about this 'sighting', listened to the NPR radio
articles,
> and read about it in the Wilson Quarterly.  Strangely enough, I had never
> paid any attention to Ivory Billed Woodpeckers until a few weeks ago - and
> in reality I was about as interested in looking for the critter as I was
> interested in looking for Elvis.
>
> I didn't have many plans, however, and my gear was packed.  A weekend in
the
> outdoors when the weather promised to be perfect was more than I could
> resist.  It would also be nice to catch up with Slim.  Slim had a plan,
> which is to say that he wanted to go to Pearl River and look where
everyone
> else had been looking in an attempt to see something that nobody had seen
> for awhile - except for one person who may or may not have been under the
> influence of dandelions at the time...
>
> I had a different plan, and he agreed to it.  We drove out on Friday
evening
> to see Mr. Fournier (four-nay).  Mr. Fournier is a real Cajun.    The
> genuine article.  A WW-II veteran somewhere above 80 years old, he's
> prowled, hunted, fished, boated, camped, and hiked more of Southeast
> Louisiana than most people probably think exists.  I learned my perfect
> Cajun accent from Mr. Fournier on several 'shopping' expeditions during my
> boyhood.  'Shopping' usually meant hunting, fishing, and picking wild
> berries all rolled into one.  I don't think the man has ever eaten fast
> food.  His freezer is stocked with various fish and game.  Lest you think
> that he lives in a cedar shack in some back woods swamp, he actually lives
> in a modest brick home in Chalmette near New Orleans.  I called him on the
> phone and told him that I wanted to show him something.  He was glad to
hear
> from me, and Slim and I appeared at his door promptly at 7:00 P.M.
>
> "What cha say, Reverend?", he said and hugged me.  He gets a kick out of
> calling me Reverend.  I introduced Slim and showed him the picture in the
> Wilson Quarterly article.  "Now I know you been everywhere you could go
> around these parts.  So I thought you might have seen dis boid", I said in
> my finest accent.  He gets a kick out of that too.  "Sure I seen it.  Why,
I
> seen it plenty.  I seen dis boid all de time!"  I thought Slim would faint
> with ecstasy.
>
> The thin smile on the old man's lips gave him away however, and he led us
> into his bedroom and pointed to a very nice print of an Ivory Bill on his
> wall.  "See?  I see him e'ry day!", he laughed.  Slim was not amused.
>
> "Yeah, but you ever see a real one, Captain?"  "I don' tink so."  "Do you
> have a good idea where we could go look?"  "Why you wanna do dat for?  Why
> you want dis boid?"  "So Slim can take a picture of it."
>
> He thought for awhile, then he said he did have an idea where we could go.
> Better than that, he'd take us since he was going to head out in the
morning
> anyway.  If we wanted, we could leave right now, so long as I drove, since
> his failing eyesight didn't allow him to drive at night.  So, we agreed.
We
> hitched the boat, bought gas, ice, cigarettes, and a bottle of Wild Turkey
> for Mr. Fornier (which is one reason he agreed to take us - he knew we'd
pay
> our way), and three hours later we arrived at the boat launch and put her
in
> the water.  In Southeast Louisiana there are lots of places you can go by
> boat that you'll never get to any other way - except, perhaps, by
> helicopter.  I got Mr. Fornier's kit out of the truck and we dropped out
> packs into the boat and fired up the motor.  The old man fired up the spot
> lamps (SERIOUS spot lamps) and piloted us lazily down waterways that he's
> known since he was a small boy.  About 3:00 AM he slid us into the bank
and
> told us that this was as good a place as any to look for a bird that
didn't
> want to be seen.  Slim and I piled out and we arranged that Mr. Fornier
> would pick us up at the same spot on Sunday afternoon.
>
> We set camp while Mr. Fornier went off in the boat to do some fishing.
Real
> fishing.  There are real fishermen like him, then there's the rest of us
who
> play like we're fishing, but in actuality we're just messing around in the
> boat.
>
> At first light we were up and I made note of where we were so that we
could
> come back again.  Getting lost in the swamp is as easy as falling off a
log,
> since there is NO terrain, and one bit of wetlands looks remarkably like
> another bit of wetlands.  I would have to keep track of where we were if
we
> wanted to get back.  From past experience I knew that Slim would be lost
> after we went ten steps.  I had a roll of orange plastic marker tape in my
> pocket to tie around limbs at visible spots so that should the map and
> compass idea fail, we could play Hansel and Grettel and find our way back.
> The only problem with the practice is that you have to retrieve them all
as
> you return.  This isn't easy in some areas, since quite a few people
follow
> the practice of orange taping a trail - but few pick them back up.  You
can
> suddenly find yourself on someone else's trail if you aren't paying
> attention to your map.  Fortunately, we were in an area where there hadn't
> been traffic for years - but I quickly decided to not to use the tape so
> that we wouldn't have to backtrack our own trail.
>
> Since the temperature was perfect I stripped completely off and stuffed my
> clothes in the pack.  Having hiked with Slim before, I knew he wouldn't
> mind - and we were as likely to see another human being out here as we
were
> to see an IBW.  Slim wasn't entirely comfortable stripping completely off,
> and I noticed with a chuckle that he was 'modestly' dressed in an electric
> blue Speedo.  I suspect the man has never seen himself naked in a mirror.
> Modern synthetics be damned; the best thing against human skin
is...nothing.
> Quick breakfast, tarps folded, fire extinguished, and we we're off.  Slim
> went first, since he was the bird fanatic, and I followed at a distance
that
> let me see him.  Moving through the swamp at anything other than a snails
> pace is often impossible, if not just undesirable, so we took our leisure
> and enjoyed ourselves - stopping frequently to interact with items of
> interest.
>
> About 11:00 we stopped and made lunch in a promising area, all the while
> Slim warning me to be as quiet as I could, and making more noise than I in
> the process.  Mr. Fornier had done a good job of putting us in a spot
where
> we might find an IBW if any actually existed.  Slim told me that the
habitat
> was ideal.  He tapped on trees with a stick, made all kinds of crazy bird
> noises, and generally made a fool out of himself.  It was very
entertaining.
> We'd already seen lots of birds and other wildlife, but no sign of Elvis.
> About 2:00 Slim wanted to go on, and he'd even let me go first this time.
>
> We continued along slowly, notating the 'map', which was nothing more than
a
> blank piece of typing paper with my scribble on it.  By my reckoning, we'd
> made four miles.  I saw the usual array of snakes, birds, squirrels, an
> armadillo, rabbits, a nutria, and maybe one deer - but I wasn't sure at
that
> distance.  While Slim was on the lookout for an IBW, I was on the lookout
> for a Louisiana Black Bear - which was about as likely as finding Elvis.
> I'd only seen three wild LBB's in my lifetime, all of them in Northern
> Louisiana.
>
> We made camp about 5:00 in a spot that seemed higher than the rest of the
> area, although it too was moderately damp.  A good fire and a hot supper
was
> a very good end to a nearly perfect day.  Slim and I had a very good
> conversation about gear that evening.  I was pleased to report that the
> Bridgedale sock on my left foot seemed to be doing better than the Thorlo
on
> my right foot.  In cooler weather I suspected the Thule would do better.
> I'd switch feet in the morning to see if it was just my imagination.  He
was
> (again) appalled at the condition of most of my stuff, and using my own
> arguments against me, convinced me that I needed to replace, if not
> necessarily upgrade, some of my stuff.
>
> Slim drifted off into never-never land quickly, and began snoring.  I
> couldn't sleep, so I wandered off into the darkness.  It suddenly occurred
> to me that wandering around naked in the swamp in the middle of the night
> was a pretty good way to get lost, so I went back and got my light,
compass,
> and whistle.  I tied a red Photon micro light to a tree branch and
switched
> it on so I could find my way back.
>
> Bird watching is fine during the day, but at night there are lots of other
> critters worth seeing.  Most people never see them, because most people
> sleep while the critters are awake.  After wandering a short distance from
> camp till about 3:00 AM, I returned and slept fitfully.
>
> Slim was up and at breakfast before dawn, still wearing his electric blue
> Speedo.  He seemed deep in thought, so I didn't bother him.  I made my own
> breakfast, packed up my camp, extinguished the fire, and raked the area
with
> a branch.
>
> Slim had, what was to him, a brilliant idea.  Rather than traveling single
> file, we could walk parallel to one another and cover a wider area.  I
> didn't like it because it would be easy to loose one another that way, and
> eventually he let me take the lead again since he was, by his own
admission,
> hopelessly lost.  I tried to orient him for about 15 minutes, and only
> succeeded moderately.  Finally he got frustrated and said, "You're the
damn
> Navigator; so navigate!"  This was, after all, one of the reasons he had
> called me in the first place...
>
> Slim is a level guy, mind you, and an excellent outdoorsman in his own
> right.  It's just that the bird fever gets him.  He's always walking along
> looking up - which is an excellent way to get lost.
>
> We traced a leisurely circular route, seeing nothing more - or less -
> interesting than we had seen the day before, although today we saw a small
> alligator, about 20 inches long.  Slim stopped a few times to make bird
> noises and tap on trees.  He tried to educate me on the subject, but if
> animal calls are a required part of a woodsman's diploma, I fear I shall
> never receive one.
>
> About 2:30 in the afternoon, I caught a faint whiff of roasting meat.  I
> followed that scent right into Mr. Fornier's camp - right where he said
he'd
> be.  He was roasting a nutria on a forked stick rotisserie that you
usually
> only see in camping books.  We had a nice meal, got dressed, packed up the
> boat, and started home.  Mr. Fornier had an ice chest full of fish, but he
> hadn't shot anything except the nutria.  He'd had a very lazy weekend, and
> had enjoyed himself.  I noticed that the bottle of Wild Turkey was empty.
>
> Slim was allowed to pilot the boat, and we chatted on the way back.  The
old
> man got a good laugh out of ribbing Slim over looking for a IBW.  He asked
> Slim what he would have done had he actually found one.  "Well", Slim
said,
> "I'd take two or three rolls of film, report it to every nature society
> between here and Timbuktu, and lead the right people to the birds so that
> they could be studied and conservation efforts could be made."  The old
man
> laughed.  "And what do you think the boids would think of all dat?"  Slim
> thought about it for a minute and said, "Well, I'd shoot three rolls of
> film, then, and the rest be damned."
>
> We got back in, cleaned the fish, and all made it home before midnight.
> All-in-all, it was a wonderful weekend - nearly perfect - even if we
didn't
> spot Elvis.
>
> Shane
>
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