Recent Peregrinations

October 2020: Manitou Island, Lake Superior, MI

During October 2020, I had the good fortune of counting waterbirds for Copper Country Audubon on Manitou Island, approximately 3 miles off the tip of Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula. While there, we lived in a functioning (but automated) lighthouse, consumed an abhorrent amount of calories to stay warm. The photos below are just a little taste of what life there was like, and for those interested in the migration study (we noted some really interesting disparities of duck migration between Manitou and other Lake Superior count sites!), check this out: https://www.coppercountryaudubon.org/manitou-island. 

During October 2020, I had the chance to count migrating waterbirds from the vantage of Manitou Island for a Copper Country Audubon migration survey. Manitou is roughly 1,000 acres, uninhabited, and in Lake Superior a few miles east of the Keweenaw Peninsula's tip. The weather there was elemental; mercurial...
During October 2020, I had the chance to count migrating waterbirds from the vantage of Manitou Island for a Copper Country Audubon migration survey. Manitou is roughly 1,000 acres, uninhabited, and in Lake Superior a few miles east of the Keweenaw Peninsula's tip. The weather there was elemental; mercurial...
Manitou is covered with thick boreal forest; no deer or moose are present, so the island has not been browsed. Aside from this footpath, which connects the dock to the lighthouse (~0.6 miles), most of Manitou is fairly impenetrable.
Manitou is covered with thick boreal forest; no deer or moose are present, so the island has not been browsed. Aside from this footpath, which connects the dock to the lighthouse (~0.6 miles), most of Manitou is fairly impenetrable.
Hauling our gear between dock and lighthouse was the most reliable means of achieving warmth on Manitou
Hauling our gear between dock and lighthouse was the most reliable means of achieving warmth on Manitou
Manitou Light & Foghorn Building. For me, part of the intrigue of Manitou was that we'd be living in a functioning lighthouse. It was built in 1860, and by appearances has been gradually forgotten since. It had plenty of character--and built plenty of character, too.
Manitou Light & Foghorn Building. For me, part of the intrigue of Manitou was that we'd be living in a functioning lighthouse. It was built in 1860, and by appearances has been gradually forgotten since. It had plenty of character--and built plenty of character, too.
Our very cool and very loved lighthouse abode (built in 1860, and automated since 1978) had no heating, electricity, or running water. What it did have was mice--and lots of them. And, since bad weather hastened our departure for Manitou by a couple days,, mousetraps were just one of the items we forgot to bring... The only way to get cell signal on the island was to climb up 80 steps to the top of the lighthouse -- which we took to calling "The Tower of the Knowledge of Good and Evil." Our first use of the Tower of Knowledge was an admirable one: figuring out DIY mousetraps...
Our very cool and very loved lighthouse abode (built in 1860, and automated since 1978) had no heating, electricity, or running water. What it did have was mice--and lots of them. And, since bad weather hastened our departure for Manitou by a couple days,, mousetraps were just one of the items we forgot to bring... The only way to get cell signal on the island was to climb up 80 steps to the top of the lighthouse -- which we took to calling "The Tower of the Knowledge of Good and Evil." Our first use of the Tower of Knowledge was an admirable one: figuring out DIY mousetraps...
The office. I've been fortunate to work for several seasons as a migration counter on Lake Superior; to exist, for the span of a migration, to observe and document this diaspora is, for me, restorative to the ancient natural rhythms we're increasingly disconnected from. The Manitou project was particularly focused on tallying migrating loons, ducks, grebes, and geese. My biggest flight day there, I observed over 13,300 waterbirds (mostly Redhead and scaup) in 8 hours. To see things like this is always mind-boggling.
The office. I've been fortunate to work for several seasons as a migration counter on Lake Superior; to exist, for the span of a migration, to observe and document this diaspora is, for me, restorative to the ancient natural rhythms we're increasingly disconnected from. The Manitou project was particularly focused on tallying migrating loons, ducks, grebes, and geese. My biggest flight day there, I observed over 13,300 waterbirds (mostly Redhead and scaup) in 8 hours. To see things like this is always mind-boggling.
The Peregrine Welcome Committee. There were 5 Peregrines--2 adults and 3 juveniles--on Manitou. The juveniles would perch up on the outcroppings where I counted, like a twisted Statue of Liberty--"give me your tired..." When the weary siskins and faltering blackbirds dipped lower and lower towards the swells, the Peregrines would go out to meet them. They'd dive and hit and clutch and return, trailed by a wake of feathers so delicate it didn't imply the death that freed them.
The Peregrine Welcome Committee. There were 5 Peregrines--2 adults and 3 juveniles--on Manitou. The juveniles would perch up on the outcroppings where I counted, like a twisted Statue of Liberty--"give me your tired..." When the weary siskins and faltering blackbirds dipped lower and lower towards the swells, the Peregrines would go out to meet them. They'd dive and hit and clutch and return, trailed by a wake of feathers so delicate it didn't imply the death that freed them.
Dark Rough-legged Hawk. While there, I got to see a few Rough-legged Hawks--like this one-- come off the lake. Watching big raptors hit land after traversing so many miles with just water beneath is always so moving to me...and dark roughies are so striking. Note Manitou's take on fall colors (foreground) and the Keweenaw headlands in the distance.
Dark Rough-legged Hawk. While there, I got to see a few Rough-legged Hawks--like this one-- come off the lake. Watching big raptors hit land after traversing so many miles with just water beneath is always so moving to me...and dark roughies are so striking. Note Manitou's take on fall colors (foreground) and the Keweenaw headlands in the distance.
A gorgeous lake trout caught from land! ...and what a beautiful fish this was! We gorged ourselves on its flesh, which was a nice deviation from the beans/rice/pasta passout monotony. Thank you Manitou; thank you trout...
A gorgeous lake trout caught from land! ...and what a beautiful fish this was! We gorged ourselves on its flesh, which was a nice deviation from the beans/rice/pasta passout monotony. Thank you Manitou; thank you trout...
Evenings on Manitou: sipping tea, reading Blood Meridian (which inspired some quite stellar dreams), spirited game nights...entire pages of my journal became columns of rummy scores and notes about the ever-growing mouse tally (ultimately, 158!)
Evenings on Manitou: sipping tea, reading Blood Meridian (which inspired some quite stellar dreams), spirited game nights...entire pages of my journal became columns of rummy scores and notes about the ever-growing mouse tally (ultimately, 158!)
Weather on Manitou was intense. A migration counter occupies two worlds, human and bird. October is a season when the veil between worlds thins, lifts. October is also the month when ducks travel--in tens of thousands--down the Great Lakes, as they depart diminishing resources. The word "Manitou" is a word prevalent throughout this region. It's an Algonquian word, defined--imperfectly, I'm sure--as spiritual power manifest in the world, as an explanation for the universe's mysterious powers ,and Manitou is strong in natural phenomena. I feel like I was not just a guest to the island--I was a guest to Manitou. Day after day, gale warnings were the standard forecast. Wind ripped singles from the lighthouse, completely stalled waterbird movement,, and tempted us to wonder if our leaving might involve a USCG rescue. I became spectator in a theatre where conditions impacted my being not dissimilarly to how they did the ducks I counted; the veil between the human world and the bird world thinned, and I came away feeling like I've experienced migration in a further dimension.
Weather on Manitou was intense. A migration counter occupies two worlds, human and bird. October is a season when the veil between worlds thins, lifts. October is also the month when ducks travel--in tens of thousands--down the Great Lakes, as they depart diminishing resources. The word "Manitou" is a word prevalent throughout this region. It's an Algonquian word, defined--imperfectly, I'm sure--as spiritual power manifest in the world, as an explanation for the universe's mysterious powers ,and Manitou is strong in natural phenomena. I feel like I was not just a guest to the island--I was a guest to Manitou. Day after day, gale warnings were the standard forecast. Wind ripped singles from the lighthouse, completely stalled waterbird movement,, and tempted us to wonder if our leaving might involve a USCG rescue. I became spectator in a theatre where conditions impacted my being not dissimilarly to how they did the ducks I counted; the veil between the human world and the bird world thinned, and I came away feeling like I've experienced migration in a further dimension.