February 27, 2010
The day’s weather was expected to be mostly cloudy, quite windy, and cold. But snow geese were beginning to show up in ever larger numbers in the skies over Havana. So it was time to make a short visit to Chautauqua Refuge; even though I knew beforehand, because of a long stretch of below-freezing weather, that its surface would mostly be frozen, and wildlife would likely be scarce.
At the head of the nature trail, the winds seemed almost calm, and I optimistically thought of having a chance to sit at one of the observation decks for a couple of hours without enduring much cold. But as I followed the trail through the forest, I could hear the winds become progressively louder through the treetops as the trail approached the bluff edge. At the furthest deck, northwest winds screamed without obstruction off the frozen lake surface directly into my face, and I knew my time for observations would be limited. And so I wrapped my head in a thick scarf, cleaned ice and snow off the bench, and poured a cup of hot coffee from my thermos.
Chautuaqua Nature Trail
A few Canada geese and several hundred greater white-fronted geese followed the Illinois River valley northward, and an adult eagle soared over the river near what I assumed was its nest. The Arctic scene before me inspired thoughts of admiration for any wildlife that could scratch food and shelter from such circumstances; it must not be an easy life. But this was good. The coffee kept me warm, and I was comfortable in my heavy clothing.
Every once in a while the ice cracked loudly and made other strange sounds, which suggested that while the ice may have been thick and solid, as a mass it moves and heaves with the waters below as pressures change and build. In fact, after a closer look, I noticed that all of the willow thickets, with their bases in water below the ice sheet, were leaning at about a 20 degree angle. Was this due to one massive movement of ice or had it been imperceptibly gradual over several weeks or days? [Recently, there has been an effect of the same process at Thompson Lake (Emiquon) across the Illinois River, where utility poles, with their bases locked within lake ice, have been pushed and snapped by the moving ice sheet.]
Thompson Lake "Emiquon" at Route 78
Then as I took another sip of coffee and re-adjusted my scarf to seal in the warmth, I noticed a coyote on the frozen lake surface, trotting along probably a quarter mile away. I set my coffee down, and through binoculars could see that it was a healthy-looking animal, solidly built and with a good coat. The coyote loped at a brisk no-nonsense pace, alert eyes and ears facing forward, moving almost in a straight line. At a certain point, though, one of the coyote’s senses must have detected something, because the animal quickly stopped to investigate the ice more closely: perhaps a dead fish frozen in the ice or a scent mark by another coyote. But after a few seconds, with wind chill in the low teens and its energy being drained away in the cold, the coyote plodded onward.
When I took another sip of coffee, its heat too had been dissipated by the cold and was gone forever; it’s the Second Law of Thermodynamics after all. And on that note, I packed up my belongings and followed the snow-covered trail back to the parking lot. It was time for lunch, which at least I would have no trouble finding.