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Searching for "Elvis"

Allan J. Mueller

When you search for an “extinct” bird with the charisma of the Ivory-billed Woodpecker, you have to deal with the media – TV, radio, newspapers, blogs, YouTube, etc. So when my friends at the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission asked me to cover a TV spot for them, I said “Yes” - without asking enough questions. A farmer near Augusta had grown a corn maze in the shape of an Ivorybill, very creative. Tracy Douglass, with KARK, Channel 4 in Little Rock, wanted to do a piece on it and asked for an Ivorybill expert. So far so good, but now comes the “not asking enough questions” part. Tracy was doing a feature segment for the morning show, which translates into a 0530 show up time at the farm near Augusta, a two hour drive from my home in Conway.

In the dark, with bright camera lights, we did several quick spots to fill the time before commercials on the morning show. I was impressed at how little warning Tracy got for when the spots would start. The farmer, his family, and I stood around ready to go when all of a sudden Tracy would be talking into her mic; we were on the air with essentially no warning. This was old hat to Tracy, so everything went smoothly. I was on the air for about 45 seconds!

It was now about 0800, and my mission was accomplished. As we left, the generous farmer loaded us up with pumpkins and squash of all shapes and sizes. Even though it was a little late to start, a search for the Ivorybill was the logical thing to do. After all, I was in the Delta and not very far from my favorite search area at Mike Freeze/Wattensaw Wildlife Management Area.

It was after 1000 by the time I walked into the Wattensaw Bottom from Buck’s Landing on the White River, expecting not much that late in the day. The best way to search for anything in the forest is alone; you are quiet and not distracted by companions. There were no woodpecker miracles that day, but I did walk up on two raccoons. The first one was working the edge of the water that was covering part of the flood plain. He was so intent in his food search that he never did see me; of course, I was invisible in my head-to-toe camo. The second coon saw me and very casually climbed the nearest tree, perching on a branch to see if I was going to bother him any further. By now I was almost to Wattensaw Bayou and decided to do a “watch”, sitting and waiting for Elvis to come by. Picking a comfortable log to lean against, I sat down hoping for good luck. Very soon I noticed movement nearby on the ground from a very young, and not frightened, Yellow-crowned Night-Heron, about 10 feet from me. He was quite happy to pose for pictures.

What started out as an unexpectedly early morning TV spot turned into another good day in the swamp.

(If you want to see Allan and others talking about the swamp and the Ivory-billed Woodpecker, try the following links:

“http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QWSnbwlKQRo&feature=PlayList&p=69B4FD8B519D227D&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=8”

“http://vimeo.com/3165574”

“http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RtFg3j-UyaY”

“http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f7CqHNYMU4Y”

“http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iYAhxPxbrsY)”

 

 

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Searching for the Ivory-billed Woodpecker

Quiet Floating in the Big Woods

Allan J. Mueller

The typical, overcast, winter morning in 2006 began simply enough as I met Ron Rohrbaugh, of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, at the Highway 17 bridge across Bayou DeView. Cornell kept several canoes chained up at this popular starting point for Ivory-billed Woodpecker searching, and Ron unlocked one for my use. He wished me luck as I paddled upstream – the current on Bayou DeView is weak enough to permit comfortable travel in both directions with a return to the starting point, making the normal car shuttle associated with canoeing unnecessary.

Any paddle on Bayou DeView is a good, even on a gloomy day such as this one. As I quietly moved upstream, my thoughts followed the usual path – is it my turn to be lucky, will this be the day, will Elvis be around the next turn? Bayou DeView is a beautiful stream and the significant spice of the Ivory-billed possibility adds a giant piece of hidden excitement to each trip. I was prepared for a pleasant day in the swamp, hoping to be attacked by an oversized woodpecker.

When I was only a couple of miles up the bayou, it started to rain, just enough drizzle to make you completely aware of your surroundings. Now rain is not unexpected in Arkansas’ winters, and I was prepared with rain gear, but it did make me think; after all, here I was up the swamp, alone, in a 40 degree rain. “What am I doing here? Perhaps I should rethink my plans for the day?” Time to see if the canoe can go downstream.

Although the current was slow, it was enough to keep me moving, so paddling was limited to keeping the canoe in the channel. This resulted in even quieter than usual travel, and the light rain helped to cover the small remaining non-swamp sounds. Suddenly a strange swamp sound struck me – “wae, waaa, waa-waa, waa” – repeated several times, with a pause and more repeats. Not Elvis, but what? Even in this leaves-off swamp, the sinuous channel and dense tupelos limit the range of vision, and this new sound (call?) was a mystery somewhere in the invisible distance.

As I floated around the next bend, the sound was solved. Two river otters rolling in the mud, the mating mud, squealing, and totally engrossed in their own activity. They were only about ten feet from the channel edge, but I was invisible to them. Eventually the sluggish current started to carry me past them and I put the paddle in the water to hold my position near the action. Now I was discovered, with dual shocked looks, a moment of “what now!”, and a quick dive into the water. Both of the aroused animals eased their heads out of the water under the cover of an overhanging bush, wondering how I could be so rude and wishing me to leave their swamp.

The trip back to Highway 17 was comfortable and relaxing, but the swamp had once again given me a treasured prize.