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Christie’s Chronicles: Paradise by the Peninsula Point Light

A vagrant white-eyed vireo is a recent visitor to Peninsula Point. The Lake Michigan birding hotspot is a magnet for migrating birds. (Photo courtesy of Ryne Rutherford)

Who knew paradise could be found in a shrubby area behind a couple of outhouses? May 11 began not unlike our previous trips to that spring birding hotspot, Peninsula Point, which juts into Lake Michigan from the Stonington Peninsula.

Things with feathers, having had to fly across a Great Lake from southern regions, get tired from that migration segment and take a respite at the first sight of land, which often is a peninsula. After all, they can’t always rely on hitching a ride on a passing boat.

The birds don’t care if human outhouses are in the vicinity, nor do humans, to be honest, especially if they are in dire need of them. They just want a nice spot to rest, hide, skulk — some birds skulk more than hide — and feast on insects.

Speaking of insects, Peninsula Point had plenty of hatches, but they did not bite or sting me. My kind of hatches.

Anyway, our trip began with the drive to the point, seeing white pelicans and other birds along the way. The terminus by the Peninsula Point Light, though, is the ultimate destination. Trees and shrubs dot the green space by the lake, and thanks to devoted volunteers, husband Dave and I saw Baltimore orioles whose orange plumage blended in with the fruit, put on the trees by the volunteers, that the birds ate.

We also saw red-headed woodpeckers, which we rarely see in Marquette. Their heads are so vivid, I just wanted to pet them, but I resisted the urge to try to do that. I can’t climb trees that quickly, for one thing, plus it might have humiliated the woodpeckers.

One of the main reasons we went to Peninsula Point, though, was to try to glimpse migrating warblers, with May being a prime time.

Trying to think as a warbler would, we walked down a path that skirted the lake, and also happened to be by the outhouses. Speaking of which, I made use of one — the women’s facility after Dave told me not to use the men’s facility that I first approached. Unfortunately, I could not get out from inside right away. A short panic attack later, I managed to push open the door. That was fortuitous considering Dave left his tools at home.

I don’t think I would have seen many warblers there anyway.

But we did start to see them in the thick, shrubby area behind the buildings, taking note of a sighting of a rare-for-the-region hooded warbler. We befriended a couple who helped us spot the bird, which although wasn’t a “lifer” for me was only my second such bird of the species.

The hooded warbler was not to be the last. We saw an American redstart, common yellowthroat, and yellow-rumped, black-throated green, black-throated blue, yellow, Cape May, blackburnian, black-and-white northern parula, magnolia, Nashville and pine warblers — all in that little spot. I think I walked about 20 feet in total one way during the trek, which I hesitate to even call a trek with it being such a short distance.

And I’m sure we missed more species. Supposedly there was a “Brewster’s” hybrid, a cross between golden-winged and blue-winged warblers. I thought I might have seen this curiosity, but sometimes colors, mixed with my wishful thinking, can play tricks on me.

I also saw a cowbird get into the mix. Maybe it was a warbler wannabe for the day.

The day wasn’t done, though. Dave and I sat at a picnic table near the lake and a line of trees and spotted a golden-winged warbler and a blue-headed vireo.

Now, many of you readers are tired of all this bird-nerd talk. But May migration comes but once a year, and is a fun version of an ornithological Pandora’s box with all sorts of stuff flying out.

The Peninsula Point Pandora’s Box on our trip was a colorful one, full of flying blobs of orange, blue, yellow and other colors. During one stretch, it’s like every time I turned around, I was seeing another warbler. Then it would drop off a bit, which is to be expected. Birding has to be a bit of a challenge, don’t you know?

The trip had to come to an end, unfortunately, which actually brought years to my eyes. Unbeknownst to me, on our return trip, Dave and I came across two western fox snakes trying to cross the road. I had Dave stop so I could assist them in their journey. One of them didn’t seem to understand my well-meaning efforts, and was doing a little cobra imitation to tell me to back off.

Back off I did, and as far as I could tell, both snakes crossed the road safely.

I look forward to Peninsula Point Trip 2023. I suspect that upon our arrival, I will make a mad dash toward the outhouses — probably not for any gastronomical reasons, but to see its Pandora’s Box reopened.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Christie Mastric is a staff writer at The Mining Journal. Contact her at cbleck@miningjournal.net.

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