It had been an evening of wine, food, and laughter with good friends, and now it was the day after — December 31st, to be exact, a heavy, bone-chilling, blustery day, perfect for drinking coffee around the kitchen stove.
But our guests weren’t huddle-around-the-stove types. My friend Steve, the rocket scientist, and his wife Joanne, the microbiologist, were in the mood for a hike, so Shana suggested that we head up to the Audobon Hawk Watch at Waggoner’s Gap.
You see the sign for this little park as you’re about to crest Blue Mountain on route 74, just before the bend in the road at the old microwave relay tower. We’d passed it dozens of times on our way to Carlisle, and said to each other, “We’ve got to check that out,” but the spectacular view of the Cumberland Valley that opened up a few seconds later always seemed to erase the idea from our minds.
Snow had been falling on and off for days, and the hills seemed to shiver under a tattered white blanket, but the road was clear.
The parking lot, on the other hand, was thick with virgin snow. The gate was open, but the entrance was blocked by high curb of icy tailings.
“Are we really driving on that?” Joanne asked. She was born in Taiwan, where the average annual snowfall is approximately zero.
“Sure,” I said, aiming the Forester at what I hoped was the low spot.
We crunched across the lot without incident, a testament to Subaru engineering – and the combined weight of four well-stuffed holiday-makers.
The kiosks at the trailhead were covered with rime, so we bypassed them, slipping and sliding up the trail, the wind biting ever more viciously as we climbed.
It’s not far from the parking lot to the stony ridge where, in decent weather, volunteers can presumably be found glassing the horizon, occasionally stopping to scribble in their notebooks. We took our time, acutely aware, as middle-aged people tend to be, of the hazards of twisting an ankle in such a steep and remote place.
When we finally reached the ridge, a breathtaking view opened up around us. To the south, the Cumberland valley lay at our feet like a somber quilt, its deep blues and grays shot through with brilliant ice filigree. In the distance, South Mountain brooded under an oppressive sky. We scanned the horizon, but there were no birds to be seen.
Turning to the north, we feasted our eyes on Perry County, rougher and greener than the valley at our back, and limned by the long rigid arm of Tuscarora Mountain, nearly fifteen miles away.
Winter winds swirled around us; the boulders gleamed with sheets of ice; we spoke in boisterous, reassuring tones.
Steve and Joanne are practically newlyweds. A scenic vista means one thing to them: romantic Facebook photos! So we snapped pictures, and studied the glassy lichens, and from time to time, when we felt strong enough, opened our eyes to the luminous landscape.
It was exhilarating, numbing fun. The one disappointment was the lack of birds! Then again, what was I expecting? Hawks? On December 31st?
It wasn’t until later, after our guests were gone, that I learned we weren’t alone on Waggoner’s Gap that day. December 31st is the last day of the annual hawk watch. In fact, there were bird watchers on the mountain from 8:30 to 3:00.
How do I know this? Because the volunteers of the Waggoner’s Gap Hawkwatch keep painstaking records, which they contribute to a national database of raptor migration.
If you’re interested in the history of this multi-decade project atop Blue Mountain, go to www.waggap.com. Even better, consider a donation to Waggoner’s Gap Hawkwatch to support their important scientific research.
There have been meticulous observations of migratory raptors at Waggoner’s Gap since 1952. Since then, over half a million birds have been logged. In any given year, nearly 20,000 birds are observed and noted, everything from the relatively common red-tailed and broad-tailed hawks to the exceedingly rare gyrfalcon.
On December 31st, the day we were on the mountain, primarily staring at our feet, Hawkwatch volunteers spotted four raptors: three red-tailed hawks and one northern harrier. My hat’s off to the birders who brave the cold to record these facts, and who so generously share their research on the Web.
It gives me great pleasure to report the Waggoner’s Gap HawkCount entry from Christmas Day, 2012:
“The 4YR BE [bald eagle] at 1:31[PM] broke our previous season record of 777 for combined eagles [bald, golden, and species unknown].”
Nearly eight hundred eagles! I would never have guessed there were so many aloft in Perry County.
Thank goodness someone’s keeping track.
This column was published in the Perry Co Times on 10 January 2013
For more information, please contact Mr. Olshan at writing@matthewolshan.com
