A Family Trip to the Necedah National Wildlife Refuge
And a break from screen time
We have struggled to pry our kids away from video games. The allure of screens has shaped them and us in so many ways. Fortunately, our kids spent their early childhood years on our organic vegetable farm in the country. They had an outdoor childhood that already seems as if it was from a distant past. I like to believe they carry that experience deep within themselves, as we are still able to convince them to spend time with us outdoors. But just barely.
They are in college now, and we know they will soon leave the nest. So, we mix in a little guilt with our honest plea extolling the virtues of the sand counties in central Wisconsin. “Join us to explore a marsh in Wisconsin in search of rare birds. We will see Sandhill Cranes, other wildlife, and possibly Whooping Cranes. We might also encounter a few mosquitos and ticks.”
Somehow, this plea worked, and our kids agreed to join us on a birding trip over Memorial Day weekend. We rented a house near Necedah, Wisconsin, so we could hike at the Necedah National Wildlife Refuge. Our goals for the trip were to spend time together, cook, read, hike, and see Whooping Cranes. Our kids are not technically birdwatchers, but they are curious and they like frogs, chipmunks, and turtles. Trips like this require compromise all around. Mercy and I scale back our birding ambition and take a more open and relaxed approach that includes a lot of downtime and a focus on a more general appreciation for nature and people.
Hiking in natural areas this time of year presents a few challenges, but that is part of the appeal. We seemed to have timed our visit to coincide with peak tick abundance, and we managed to pick them up despite our precautions and preference for well-worn trails and boardwalks. The other primary challenge was a tiny force of nature: mosquitoes. Windy days were okay, but the few still days that we had were more challenging. We kept ourselves covered up as much as possible and kept moving. The hum of mosquito wings in our ears kept us focused on the moment.
The house we rented was near a fishing resort and campground, where we were immersed in rural Wisconsin fishing culture. Our boys were intrigued by the golf carts, ATVs, and seeing so many people on the water. The docks by our house were a major social hub. There were people hanging out, fishing, and eating on the docks from sunrise to sunset. We briefly intersected with this culture in the local bar. It turns out the people with the big trucks, boats, and ATVs have some of the same concerns as us. We talked to a local who told us how he is struggling to teach his kids how to fish. The kids are busy with school, sports, and video games, and their time on the water is limited. They often miss the best times to fish - early morning and dusk - which means the fishing is often slow and challenging. That does not bode well for people who are used to instant gratification.
For me, this conversation reinforced the powerful, homogenous aspects of our culture. We are all shaped by the same forces: Facebook, YouTube, TikTok, round the clock. There was a point on the trip to Necedah where all of this fell away. Our tires rolled over gravel, and the marsh hugged the roadside. Birdsong filled the air, dragonflies were everywhere we looked, and the wind coursed through the leaves. We all breathed deeply and relaxed.
On our first visit to the refuge, we set out on the trails and become increasingly enmeshed in nature. We went slowly and were intentionally open to epiphany. We scanned the extensive open wetlands around us for Whooping Cranes, but we also admired the dragonflies and the turtles basking in the sun. It was not long before we encountered a Painted Turtle digging a hole in the sand near the trail. She was preparing to lay eggs. Observing her at close range drew us below the soil line where there was a richness and depth of understanding in the humus. The smell of it wafted through the air and entered our bodies.
We felt a little calmer and more tuned in for our next encounter with a remarkably tame Thirteen-lined Ground Squirrel. He popped out of his burrow and stood upright looking at us like a miniature prairie dog as we approached. Then, to our surprise, he stayed there as we walked right up to him. We got within four feet of him, and he did not move. We could see his small ears, dark shining eyes, and twitching whiskers.
The ground squirrel watched us pass as we made our way through the open oak savanna and came up to a high point that looked out over the marsh. We started scanning with our binoculars and noticed pairs of Trumpeter Swans foraging in the water and flying over the wetland. A few minutes later we noticed two large white birds flying over the marsh about a half mile away. When we found them in our binoculars, we could see a straight profile and black tips on the wings. It was a pair of Whooping Cranes!
At this point, we went full bird nerd and regaled our kids with the story of Whooping Cranes. They had heard most of this before, during visits to the International Crane Foundation in Baraboo, Wisconsin, but seeing them in the wild was a different experience. We told them this is the country's second rarest bird after the California Condor. In the 1940s they were down to less than 24 birds, and extensive efforts to bolster their populations have led to breeding and captive populations that total 650 birds. Our excitement was contagious, and we all enjoyed watching the cranes forage in the marsh. They eventually disappeared from view, and we stood and waited, hoping they will return.
We passed through sand prairie and made our way down to a boardwalk that traversed an open marsh. My son quickly noticed a frog in the marsh and focused on him with his binoculars. The nice thing about frog watching is that they tend to be cooperative. This Leopard Frog sat still and provided a satisfying view. Meanwhile, a pair of Trumpeter Swans nesting in the sedges attracted some attention from our kids, as did the Barn Swallows swooping around the boardwalk.
The swallows looked so peaceful resting, preening, and carrying on an animated conversation. They looked directly at each other, and with mouths agape, produced a remarkable string of notes. Close proximity enhanced this experience; binoculars are not needed for birds that are ten feet away. We could clearly see the brilliant steel blue iridescent wing feathers and the chestnut forehead and throat. The long forked tail extended beyond their wing tips. Female Barn Swallows select mates based on tail symmetry and length as well as the size of tail spots, ventral coloration, and the chestnut color on the throat and forehead. At this distance, we were able to see every detail.
Female swallows are not the only ones that appreciate those long tail feathers. Barn Swallows were nearly hunted to extinction in the 1800s so their tail feathers could adorn fashionable hats. This slaughter prompted George Bird Grinnell to start the first chapter of the Audubon Society in the late 1800s.
As I looked at the dainty swallows, I wondered what are we doing now that is akin to killing swallows for long feathers.
On the way back to our house, we stopped by the observation platform to take one last look at the marsh. When we got to the tower, we were surprised to see a Sandhill Crane sitting on a nest in the marsh 50 yards from the tower. It looked like the refuge staff had positioned this bird and nest for optimal viewing. The experience of observing her unfolded in layers. We could just see her head from ground level, and she appeared to be sleeping. The view from the first level of the tower revealed her rusty red feathers and long black bill held slightly agape. The view from the top level provided a remarkable look at her folded up and nestled into a perfectly round mat of dried grass stems.
After ten minutes of scanning the surrounding marsh, she stood up on long, dark legs that looked like rebar. We could see a single, large, mottled egg resting on the elevated platform a few inches above the water. She ruffled her feathers, preened, looked directly at us with brilliant yellow eyes, turned the egg, and tidied up the stems in her nest before settling back down.
“From wonder to wonder, existence unfolds.” Lao Tzu
We could feel our sense of empathy amplifying as we became a little more connected to her and the marsh. We knew that the marsh was both beautiful and brutal. There were many threats to her, and especially to the life in her egg.
We left the tower and set out to our next destination: a state park known for rock formations and petroglyphs. The petroglyphs were fascinating, and the bird petroglyphs were the star of the show. The ancient symbols included different types of birds, including the Thunderbird and simple X figures. This led to interesting conversations about human nature, language, and history. We then decided to hike up the 300 stairs to the top of the rock formation. That turned out to be an epic staircase. We were all sore the next day from our effort, but the view from the top was spectacular. The landscape was covered in trees as far as you could see.
A flash of blue captured our attention as we gazed into the distance. A male Indigo Bunting perched on the very top of a pine tree that was at eye level. He was impossibly blue. He was electric. We were all so captivated by him that we did not talk for a minute or so, and then our conversation turned to the color blue, refracted blue light, and song neighborhoods.
“Strange to have come through the whole century and find that the most interesting thing is the birds. Or maybe it’s just the human mind is more interesting when focusing on something other than itself.” John Hay
We made it back down the daunting staircase and then set out on a trail through an oak savanna. We heard a Scarlet Tanager singing from the top of an oak tree, and we caught glimpses of him moving through the branches. He eventually dropped down to the lower canopy and perched in the open. The sunlight filtered through the leaves and illuminated him like a Christmas ornament. My son raised his binoculars, and to our surprise, we heard him exclaim, “Wow!” when the bird came into view. He is typically understated, so this was equivalent to him doing a backflip. I was secretly elated. He is an artist and he appreciates colors. The bright red-orange color of the tanager made a real impression on him.
A little further down the trail, my son spotted a Pink Lady’s Slipper Orchid. I stood next to him and scanned the vegetation looking for the pink flower. He had to point it out to me due to plant leaves partially obscuring the blossom. At this point, I realized that he is a keen observer. He must be really tuned into color. Most people, myself included, would have walked by without noticing this plant. The ability to perceive your surroundings can be cultivated and is one of the many benefits of slowing down and spending time in nature.
This fascinating rare flower forms a symbiotic relationship with fungi in the soil and is restricted to high-quality habitats. It also plays tricks on bees. Bumblebees are attracted to the large pink flowers, but once they enter the large pouch, they discover that there is no food for them inside. In the process of turning around and exiting, they brush against the stigma and pick up new pollen as they exit. This unrewarding experience influences the behavior of the bees, and pollination rates in this orchid are low as a result.
Our energy was getting low thanks to the stairs and miles on the trail. We headed home to prepare our dinner, which included crab cakes, salad from our garden, asparagus, and rice. It is hard to know what our kids take away from trips like this, but we feel like it is time well spent. These little windows into nature that correspond with a break from screens seem critical to me. We have given them an entry point into a larger world beyond the limited scope of human affairs. Together, we are tending a fire within that cannot be extinguished. It is fuel for our creativity, dreams, and the skills required to navigate a complex world.
I can' t tell you how much I loved this essay on your family trip. You are so lucky to be able to share such joyous insights with your sons. I'm constantly in awe of your descriptions of the birds. I particularly was in awe of the one about the crane and her egg. I had no idea that when a bird is hatching her eggs that she actually turns them....I learn so much from your observations. You have the soul of a poet! Aunt carol
Thank you so much for this post. Absolutely made my day.