![]() ![]() The fragrant flowers of the common milkweed, which find a home on the marshy point, are the only sources of food for monarchs. The point, it turns out, provides a perfect home for monarch butterflies. “Monarchs of the Marsh.” Again, I’m not a sign reader, but at the leisurely pace I was traveling, this sign about halfway down the trail seemed like a good place to pause the interruptions my footsteps were causing the birders. I learned to identify a magnolia warbler by its yellow belly, a piping plover by the distinct black mark on its forehead, and a double-crested cormorant by its size and matte black appearance. Barely audible whispers, points toward rustles in leaves or a set of wings above, and a few helpful tips from some kind birders on the trail helped me identify a few birds, though. With my naked, non-birdwatcher eyes, it was hard to spot any birds nestled in the dense trees. Some of them walked slowly, but most of them stood still, their necks craned and their eyes peering through spotting scopes or cameras. The people around me wore camouflage, countless shades of tan and binoculars around their necks. In athletic shorts and a University of Michigan T-shirt (an outfit that would usually allow me to blend in), I felt like I stood out. Many of their vacations to Tawas were planned with the intent to catch a glimpse of a Cape May warbler or a white-crowned sparrow. Many of them would say that birdwatching is not a mere hobby, but a lifestyle. These people on the point, though, were birdwatchers. His email address and social media handles are all different iterations of the phrase “finch master.”Īll this, yet I’ve never really considered him a birdwatcher. He has always kept the bird feeders on our back deck stocked full of bird seed and simple syrup (for the hummingbirds – his favorite). His binoculars and red leather-bound bird identification book have sat on the same shelf in our living room for as long as I can remember. My dad, an avid outdoorsman, has always watched birds. ![]() Heads turned as I accidentally stepped on small sticks, creating obviously unwanted noise. I became aware of the sound of my own footsteps on the soft, dirt trail. This is just something you get used to as a Michigander.īut, as I passed the entry signs to the trail and continued my walk, birdsong became all I could hear. Historically, birdsong has only served as background noise to me anytime I’ve gone outside or heard it faintly through my bedroom window as the sun rises. It turns out I was a few days late for the actual birding festival, but right on time for peak bird migration. Through the thinnest parts of the wooded areas there were small visible patches of wetlands and beautiful beaches. ![]() Young cottonwood and birch lay ahead of me, lining the trail. “Pets, bicycles and unauthorized vehicles are NOT permitted beyond this point.” The land that the Sandy Hook Nature Trail sits on is defined by the DNR as Primitive Zone – an underdeveloped recreational experience. “STOP – PLEASE READ.” I tend to not be a sign reader, but this sign that sat at the start of the trail seemed to have an important message. The Sandy Hook Nature Trail, which I was set to explore, winds through the state park and is carved by the feet of thousands of visitors from all over the world every year. The southernmost half of the point is a state park managed by the Michigan Department of Natural Resources. ![]() The point itself extends south out into Lake Huron for about 2 miles and marks the northern edge of Saginaw Bay. The path I planned to walk split Tawas Point down the middle, and it conveniently began only a few steps away from the back door of the lighthouse. The point is technically surrounded by the same body of water, but the east and west sides have completely different temperaments. The other, more visible body of water – Tawas Bay – sat quietly and calmly only a few yards to my right. Their rhythmic crashing and the early summer sun reminded me of some of my most pleasant memories of childhood, where I would spend all day in Lake Michigan swimming and surfing almost every warm summer day. The peak of bird migration typically occurs during the third week of May, my first week as keeper.Īlthough the water’s edge of the fourth-largest lake in the world, Lake Huron, was over 200 yards to my left, I could still hear the waves clearly. Birdwatchers, or “birders,” flocked by the thousands to Tawas Point during the whole month of May, many traveling from out of state to attend the annual Tawas Birding Festival. ![]()
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