THE INCREDIBLE MAGNOLIA BIRD WATCHER

I  belonged  --  and  I  guess  I  still  belong  --   to  a  worldwide  organization  dedicated  to  the  study  of  ancient  inscriptions   called  The  Epigraphic  Society.      Once  I  drove  down  to  the  the  woods  just  north  of  the  Potomac  River,  near  Antietam  Battlefied,  to  look   for  an  ancient  inscription  reported  to  be  on  a  boulder  down  there.  As  I  traipsed  through  the  woods  in  search  of  the  inscription,    a  really  big  bird  came  wafting  in  my  direction,  landing  in  a  tree  a  few  feet  above  my  head.  I  looked  up,  and  saw  that  amazingly  it   appeared  to  be  an  ivory-billed  woodpecker,    thought   by  many  to  be  extinct.   

I  stood  still   to  avoid  frightening  the  bird  away,  so  that  I  could  hear  its  distinctive  call  (which  I  later  learned  is  called  the  "kent  call"   by  ornithologists).     And  then  I  heard  it ...

kent ... kent ... kent ... kent ...

I  actually  got  to  see  one  of  the  last  ivory  bill  woodpeckers  in  existence.  

I  told  a  group  of  ornithologists  I  came  across  in  the  woods  that  day  about  my  find.  They  didn't  believe  me.     I  wrote  to  the  author  of  a  magazine  article   on  the  ivory  billed  woodpecker  about  my  find.  No  response.   

Heh-heh-heh  HEH  heh!



My  bird  encounters  weren't  limited  to  the  woods  of  Maryland.  A  few  occurred  right  here  in   exotic  Magnolia,  New  Jersey.

One  late  Fall  morning  in  the  1980s  I  was  on  my  way  out  to  my  car  to  represent  someone  in  court.     The  air  was  very  still,  and  snow  flurries  were  coming  down.    I  heard  some  rustling   in  the  leaves  to  my  left.  There,  in  my  front  yard  to  my  left,  inside  my  fence,  was  the  biggest  pheasant   I  had  ever  seen.

I  took  a  single   tentative  step  in  its  direction.    The  thing  was  startled.  It  flew  over  the  fence,   landed  in  Warwick  Road,   it   flew  up  into  the  air  again  before  a  car  could  hit  it,  and  made  it  to  the  access  road  to  the  Little  League  ballfield.   I  ran  into   the  house  to  get  my  camera,  a  Pentax  K-1000  SLR,   but  when  I  came  out  the  pheasant  was  gone.

My  next  interesting  ornithological  encounter  was  when  I  was  taking  an  early  morning  walk   before  work  one  Fall  day.    As  I  walked  down   Jackson  Avenue  from  my  house  on  Warwick  Road  toward  Camden  Avenue,    I  saw  that  "Zimmo"  --  my  name  for  Mr.  Zimmerman  on  Jackson  Avenue  at  Camden  Avenue  --  had  left-out  a  large  live  animal  trap  overnight ...

...  and  that  he  had  managed  to   capture  a  groundhog  in  it,    and   perched  on  top  of  the  cage  were  two  huge  bald  eagle  youngsters  --  probably  from  the  Petty's  Island  brood   in  the  Delaware  --  trying  to  figure  out  how  to  get  INTO  the  cage  to  eat  the  groundhog.

I  tiptoed  up  Zimmo's  walk  to  quietly   knock  on  his  door  to  let  him  know  that  he  had  a  wonderful  miracle  of  nature   on  his  lawn  on  the  Camden  Avenue  side  of  the  house.  But  I  guess  it  looked  too  much  like  I  was  stalking  to  the  eagles,  who   flew  away   as  I  reached  Zimmo's  porch.



My  last  and  greatest  ornithological  encounter   occurred  as  I   was  walking  down  Warwick  Road  toward  the  Wawa  store.    When  I  crossed  Madison  Avenue  and  was  in  front  of  Olivo's  house,  I  happened  to  look  left  and  glance  up  to  the  roof  of  Trinity  Lutheran  Church  and  --  there  it  was!    I  couldn't  believe  it!    A  great  horned  owl  on  the  church's  roof,  as  still  as  a  statue,  poised  to   take-down  whatever  prey  it  might  happen  to  see  with  its  sharp  eyes.

I  hurried  home  to  get  my  binoculars  to  get  a  closer  look.   In  short  order,  I  was  out  there  on  Warwick  Road  in  broad  daylight,   my  powerful   binoculars  from  Edmund  Scientific   focused  on  the  mighty  bird.

I  didn't  notice  that  Rose  from   Phillips  Avenue  was  walking  down  the  sidewalk  behind  me.

"Hi,  Pete!"    she  said.  "Why  are  you  looking  at  my  church  with  binoculars?"

"Rose!"   I  answered,  "How  are  you  doing!   This  is  really  incredible!  Trinity  Lutheran  has   a  huge  adult  great  horned  owl  perched  on  its  roof,  probably  looking  for  some  small  animal  to  pounce  on!"

"Uh,  Pete,"  Rose  said  to  me  quietly,   "That's  a  plastic  owl,  for  scaring  away  other  birds."