Franklin Parker Preserve 11/8--Northern Shrike

Back in January I was patting myself on the back while simultaneously slapping myself upside the head because I had found, fairly quickly, a Northern Shrike at Franklin Parker Preserve while at the same time was having no success with much larger birds around the state. That shrike hung around a good long while although on a second visit there last winter it proved elusive. A few days ago, that shrike, or one very much like it, returned to the same spot in the vast preserve and this morning I drove down hoping to get a better look at it than I did at the beginning of the year. The old bog that it has been frequenting is large with lots of trees for it to perch upon and lots of brush for it to dive down into and hide. Normally, when I look for a rarity, I don't give it a lot of time--it's either there or it ain't as far as I'm concerned, but today, just to see, I scoured that bog. I walked 3/4 of the way around it until it the path started to go back into the woods, then retraced my steps the opposite way and didn't find the bird. Saw lots of flickers, with which it has been known to associate, but no shrike. 

I crossed the street and walked up to the Bald Eagle Reservoir and there wasn't an eagle, duck, swan, goose, or kingfisher to be seen there. Hard to believe that much water could be that empty. So I decided to go back to the east side of the road and walk all the way around the bog, this time in a clockwise direction. Just before I got back to the gate I ran into a Burlco birder who had already seen the shrike and few days ago and was there to do some botanizing. She wished me luck and I started back. This time in the wooded area, I came across half a dozen Pine Warblers, and saw that both the goose and Mallard flocks had built up substantially in the hour or so I was gone, but still, no shrike. 

I was pretty close to the exit when I saw Kay coming up the path. I gave her thumbs down and she seemed surprised. "I just saw Matt and he said he saw the bird pop up in the bog just a little while ago," she told me. Up to that point, I hadn't really been frustrated. I figured either the bird was hidden, eating or digesting whatever small rodent it had killed, or else it just wasn't there. But to hear that it had just been sighted really kicked me into aggravation mode. 

I turned around. Kay very cheerfully said, "I'll help you." We got out to the bog and hadn't gone 50 feet when she put up her bins and said, "I see it." And there, in a dead oak tree, was the bird, fairly distant and with its back to us, but clearly identifiable as a shrike. And then it turned around and removed any lingering doubt. I took some non-award winning photos, but, as I said to Kay, I didn't know whether to be happy or mad--obviously I was glad to see the bird, but that I either missed it three times or that it favored Kay over me was irritating. It was success and failure at the same time. "Be happy," Kay said, "it's easier." 

So I am.