Keith Watson updates the bird list. 



to innumerable bird-watching opportuni- 

 ties. Nature-lovers of all kinds can inspect 

 the scenery from cars and buses, pontoon 

 boats, the Hatteras-Ocracoke ferry and 

 canoes, as well as on foot. 



My paddling adventure in the 

 Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge 

 is one of the "general natural history trips," 

 and it's my first time in a kayak. As we 

 leave the open water and the last colorful 

 leaves behind, I'm still searching for birds. 



Though there are wood-duck nesting 

 boxes in the trees along the shore, they are 

 empty — our guide says the ducks actually 

 prefer to nest in natural cavities in the tree 

 trunks. A few members of my group spy a 

 woodpecker through their binoculars, but I 

 can't see it. Finally, as I blunder down a 

 root-choked ditch, chickadees flit in the 

 branches overhead. 



My hands are numb with cold and my 

 jeans are stiff with water by the time I 

 clamber from the kayak at journey's end. 

 Seated in my unfamiliar craft, I've sailed 

 beneath towering bald cypress trees and 

 wended my way through a maze of marsh- 

 grass channels. Still, I'm only too ready to 

 climb back into my car for the long drive to 

 Kitty Hawk, where I'm staying with 

 friends. 



I'm happy to be able to throw my wet 

 clothes in a dryer and to warm my cold 

 bones with a home-cooked meal. But most 

 of the festival's 250 other participants are 

 staying at local hotels, eating at area 

 restaurants and buying gifts at nearby 

 shops. 



Thigpen's survey results will show 

 that more than 90 percent of these 

 participants are from outside the coastal 



A white ibis stalks its lunch. 



region, and that they contribute more than 

 $90,000 to the local economy. Most of 

 their spending is for food and lodging, but 

 birders also drop significant sums on 

 registration fees and birding equipment. 



Fortunately for Wings Over Water, 

 coastal North Carolina meets many of the 

 criteria birders seek in their field trips, 

 according to the survey results. Their 

 number-one priority is seeing a wide 

 variety of birds, but other high-ranking 

 items include clean air, crime-free 

 communities and scenic places to view 

 wildlife. 



MY, 



HOSTS 



have a clock that chimes every hour with 

 the song of a different bird. By 6 a.m. 

 Saturday, when the house wren warbles its 

 tune, I'm already on the road to Lake 

 Mattamuskeet for my next field trip. 



The sun rises as I drive, and my 

 breath smokes in the unheated car. Heavy 

 frost bristles on the roadside, where crisp 

 white-edged grass slopes down to meet 

 black canals. Fog rises from the water. By 

 8 a.m., when the tour starts, Lake 

 Mattamuskeet glints like metal in the sun. 



"We winter about 1 8 species of 

 waterfowl on the lake and adjacent 

 freshwater marshes," says John Stanton, 

 wildlife biologist at Mattamuskeet National 

 Wildlife Refuge. Altogether, the lake is a 

 temporary home for 150,000 waterfowl. 

 "We have about 30,000 tundra swans and 

 10-15,000 geese," Stanton says. In winter, 

 "waterfowl, bald eagles and hawks are 

 really what show themselves in a big way." 



A black bear munches wheat. 



And this trip does not disap- 

 point. From the lakeshore, I can see 

 hundreds of snow-white swans. 

 Birders spot a great homed owl, a 

 rare Eurasian wigeon and a few 

 Ross's geese. "That's a smaller 

 version of the snow goose," says 

 Stanton. 



Surprises include a blue-headed 

 vireo, hermit thrush, and pine and 

 palm warblers — small songbirds 

 that "should have been long gone to 

 Central and South America," Stanton 

 says. By far the biggest surprise is a 

 black bear. 



The tour leapfrogs from an 

 observation deck overlooking the 

 marsh to the refuge's headquarters 

 beside historic Mattamuskeet Lodge. 

 In the tall reeds beside the lodge, 

 invisible songbirds make beautiful 

 music. When I ask Stanton what is 

 singing, he says they are marsh 

 wrens: "They sing a really nice song 

 but you hardly ever see them." 



I chase a belted kingfisher along 

 one of the lake's drainage ditches — 

 its wings flash blue as it stays one 

 step ahead of me, chattering. At Lake 

 Landing, where birders walk the 

 dikes at the east end of the lake, I 

 spot a huge, crested gray bird on a 

 snag over the water, its head hunched 

 to its breast. "A black-crowned night 

 heron," Stanton says. I'm beginning 

 to enjoy this feathery scavenger hunt. 



I dawdle after the tour is over, 

 and join a small group exploring 

 the lodge, which was originally a 

 pumping station to drain the lake and 



10 AUTUMN 1999 



