THIS IS THE season of one of the greatest migrations on Earth happening right now.
We’ve all heard of the epic flights of migrating waterfowl flying from the Arctic Circle to the tropics.
The epic flights of geese, ducks and cranes arranged in precise Vs, blade straight and steel true, flying non-stop directly to their tropical winter vacation paradise.
Then there are the other birds — they are the lost genetic throwbacks that couldn’t keep up with the rest of the flock.
They always seem to come straggling by about this time of year when any bird with half a brain would have already migrated by now.
These birds are late, lonely and looking for a meal.
I tried to help these lost souls continue on their journey with leftover junk food from my drift boat, but it seems to have the opposite effect.
Some of these migrating birds have become so well adjusted to their new surroundings, they won’t leave.
I worry about enabling the birds or endangering their health by subjecting them to the rank leftovers of a human diet.
Then I see some freezing feathered friend pecking away at a soggy hotcake, and I know I’ve done the right thing.
Like the mourning dove that flew in this week.
The poor thing should have been in Mexico enjoying a tropical vacation by now.
Instead, it was lost in a frozen swamp in the wilderness surrounded by a flock of what could be the worst birds in the world, the Canada jays.
Also known as the camp robber or whiskey jack, the Canada jay is a voracious pest that becomes more obnoxious each time I feed them.
This has not stopped me, but it has become an increasing source of embarrassment to have a regal bird like the mourning dove grace my bird feeder with its presence, only to have the moment ruined by a food fight with hillbilly trash birds.
The camp robbers fly away with the largest chunk of junk food, doughball or hotcake they can possibly lift, then stash it in the woods for later.
These birds must forget where they put the secret stash shortly after they hide it, because they’re always hungry and demanding more.
It was sad to see the slim, elegant, mourning dove adopted into the flock of morbidly-obese camp robbers and sink to their level.
While some birds may be too fat to migrate, others are just too stupid and lazy to go anywhere.
Just because a bird can fly doesn’t mean they’re migrating.
The sandhill crane is a migratory species about the size of a great blue heron, famed for the length of its migration.
It is a dirty little secret in the birdwatching world that the only reason the sandhill crane’s migration is so long is because the birds spend so much time soaring around in circles while making a ridiculous call that sounds like a goose trying to gargle a beer.
This flying in circles draws more cranes who join up until the flock decides to fly a few more miles and start circling all over again.
The specklebelly or white-fronted geese can spend days flying around in circles, not migrating, not on purpose. They get lost in the fog and circle all night.
You can tell when the geese are in trouble. They call more when they are tired, lost or both.
As night falls and the moon rises over the misty swamp, flocks of geese are passing by in their flight over the mountains. By the morning, they are gone.
We wish them Godspeed.
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Pat Neal is a Hoh River fishing and rafting guide and “wilderness gossip columnist” whose column appears here every Wednesday.
He can be reached at 360-683-9867 or by email via patnealproductions@gmail.com.
