On September 20, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) web site predicted a rise in the Illinois River of about two feet over the next twenty-four hours. So I knew all of the mudflats at Quiver Lake, which has a direct connection to the river, would soon be under water. That was unfortunate because the shallow water and mudflats were just beginning to attract shorebirds. I had yet to spend much time looking for shorebirds during this particular fall migration, and so I was disappointed. But ospreys were also on the move. Over the last few years, I have learned that Quiver Lake, just south of Chautauqua National Wildlife Refuge, is a good place to view ospreys migrating along the Illinois River valley. My focus shifted to ospreys.
Quiver Lake, an Illinois River backwater
The next day, after a lazy breakfast, I moved a fold-up chair to the water's edge at Quiver Lake in the shade of a silver maple, and remained mostly hidden from view by a swamp privet shrub, black willow tree, and a pile of driftwood deposited in the last flood. Tree swallows were very numerous, quickly flying back and forth at high altitudes as well as just over the water's surface. But even more numerous, it seemed, were the American white pelicans, which engaged in all types of activities including soaring in large flocks so high they were at times almost beyond sight, even with binoculars. There also were double-crested cormorants, great blue herons, great egrets, ring-billed gulls, Caspian terns, and turkey vultures. The light blue sky behind high, wispy clouds with light south winds seemed a good backdrop for detecting migrating raptors.
For the next few hours, I alternated between reading and watching birds flying over Quiver Lake, the floodplain forests between the lake and the Illinois River, and the nearby refuge. And yet, even after a couple of hours I saw no osprey, and I was beginning to become discouraged. An additional factor, though, was that the majority of my attention was focused on reading a novel called Bootheel Man by Morley Swingle, and I was thinking more about southeastern Missouri and the pre-historic Mississippian Indians than the birds right in front of me. But because I was not finding any osprey, even during September along a backwater lake with abundant fish, located on a major migration flyway, I wondered whether it was a good day for migration after all.
Then just as I finished making some quick notes about the lack of ospreys, I looked up: about 50 feet over the water, directly in front of me, an osprey flew past heading southward. In less than a minute, it was out of sight; but those few moments made my day.
And so, I went back to my book. About a half hour later I finished another chapter and my thoughts once again re-emerged to the present time. I put the book down, glanced around, and instantly made eye contact with an osprey that had been perching almost directly overhead on the top of a tall cottonwood tree. The bird immediately left its perch, a bit awkwardly, I thought, and quickly flew in the direction of the far lakeshore. Then it soon abruptly stopped in mid-air, held its wings back, and dived straight into the water, far enough away from me that there was a slight delay between the sight of the bird making contact with the water and the sound of the splash. Immediately the osprey emerged from the water and continued flying southward out of sight. I returned to my book, feeling a bit like the birder who was photographed looking for birds with a bird perching on his binoculars.
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Additional reading on the Illinois River and birding can be found in my book Side Channels. For information on the book, please link to my Amazon author page.