Cerulean Blues by Katie Fallon

Author:Katie Fallon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Cerulean Warbler, birds, bird research, Appalachia, Colombia, nature, mountaintop removal mining
Publisher: Ruka Press
Published: 2011-10-17T16:00:00+00:00

West Virginia is hands down the most beautiful place on earth. Once Jesse and I crossed into Kanawha County and entered the state forest, the road became paved and wound gently through the trees. The forest canopy closed above the road, allowing just a little sunlight through to dapple the blacktop. The 9,300-acre Kanawha State Forest harbored more than a thousand flora species and scores of birds, including nineteen warbler species. A black-throated green warbler sang zee zee zoo zoo zee from the trees overhead as we cruised towards the campground.

To our delight, when we arrived at the “rustic” tent camping area, it was deserted. Vacant tent sites lined one side of Store Hollow Road, and beyond the sites ran a thin, trickling creek. A wooded mountain rose behind the creek, and another loomed on the other side of the road, forming the hollow. The road dead-ended at campsite 16, which we gleefully claimed; it was surrounded on three sides by the forested walls of the hollow, and the creek ran just next to it. The site included a picnic table, a trash can, and a fire pit. We normally avoided camping in designated “campgrounds”—we strongly preferred backpacking far from roads and picnic tables—but this site seemed like the best we could hope for in a state forest next to a large urban area. We hung a sign on the numbered post indicating that we were claiming the site, and we set up our freestanding two-person tent while Mr. Bones investigated the creek and surrounding undergrowth. When we had finished, we climbed in the car again and drove back to the state forest entrance to try to get another look at the mine we’d passed on the way in.

We wound back up the quiet road through the forest and stopped just outside the park boundary. A gated gravel road led up and into the woods to the left of the entrance; we snapped on Mr. Bones’s leash and started hiking up it. As the road steadily climbed, Jesse and I scanned the canopy for birds. Mr. Bones’s constant tugging on the leash made birding difficult; usually, we let him off his leash in the woods, but since we were on more of a road than a hiking trail, we were nervous we’d encounter a vehicle. When Mr. Bones gets a smell he likes, his beagle half takes over; with his nose to the ground and tail wagging, he zigzags along whatever scent trail he’s found. When he’s in beagle mode, we can call and call but he ignores us. So, to be safe, we kept him hooked to the leash.

We hadn’t been walking more than a few minutes when we heard the call of a male cerulean warbler. We tilted back our heads, raised our binoculars, and searched the treetops, but we couldn’t find him.

“Damn,” said Jesse, lowering his binoculars, “I’d really like to see one of those guys today.”

We pressed on, and the road switched back and continued to climb.

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