Rain and Spilled Hot Cocoa, but No Owls or Buffalo

Photo 1 of 3

Sunday I awoke to rain. I sighed and went about canceling my plans for the day, which were to go bird-watching with a friend to Antelope Island because the soggy weather would mean a fruitless trip. I texted my friend, suggesting that we reschedule, but she replied that the weather was supposed to clear.

Looking doubtfully out the window at the gray sky, I nevertheless made two mugs of hot cocoa for the journey. When my friend arrived, we packed up the car, headed out into the rain, and I promptly spilled hot cocoa all over my white T-shirt because I hadn’t properly secured the lid on the travel mug.

At that point, I called two strikes against the day and wanted to turn back. My friend, however, was looking forward to seeing the barn owls on the island, so I grimly preceded through the wet weather.

My mood improved when we reached the causeway, where the hundreds of brownish dots bobbing in the bay, viewed through my camera lens and her binoculars,  turned out to be eared grebes. I happily added that species to my list of birds I’ve photographed.

We drove on, stopping to pay the entrance fee. At the ranger kiosk we got our first laugh of the day – the sign on the window cautioned that it was insect season and the no-see-ums were active, but refunds would not be given for insects.

My friend and I both saw the humor in that. Can you imagine going to a nature preserve and complaining because there are insects? They’re a natural hazard in the outdoors.

We got our second laugh of the day when we pulled into the marina. Perched on one of the buildings were four yellow-headed blackbirds surrounded by a swarm of flies. The birds just waited for a fly to come into reach of their beak, then grabbed it and gobbled. We watched for probably five minutes before the birds flew off.

They were replaced by a raven that landed on the pavement to inspect a glob of red, yellow and green that turned out to be a couple of gummy worms. The raven cawed his disapproval – I suspect he had hoped that glob would be a broken egg for breakfast – and winged away.

We, too, decided to move on. At the main road, atop the wooden sign that read “Antelope Island,” was a meadowlark, singing for all the world to hear.

“Our welcome committee,” my friend said, and gave a spiel about “Welcome to Antelope Island, the bugs are out, but no refunds will be given for insects,” which made me laugh.

At Lady Finger Point we walked out to view the beach. I was disappointed that we saw no shorebirds – one of the reasons I had wanted to visit the island was to add phalaropes, sandpipers and plovers to my list.

The shorebirds remained absent, but a lark sparrow played peek-a-boo in the rocks until it finally consented to pose in plain view for a photograph.

We got back to the car just before the rain began to pelt so hard it bounced off the pavement. I pulled off the road for a couple of minutes until the worst had passed.

At the ranch house we looked for the barn owls in the silo and the great horned owls in the cottonwoods, but if they were present they refused to show themselves. A docent mentioned that burrowing owls had taken up residence on a different part of the island, and we also chatted briefly with some other visitors, who were curious about the Western tanager I had photographed earlier.

For lunch we headed to one of the beaches, and on the way I got photos of a horned lark and a mockingbird. At the picnic area, we were entertained by a pair of barn swallows that were building their nest in the structure above us.

My friend laid out a spread of some of my favorite food – fresh bread, cheese, chocolate and a delicious stew she had made – and we sat down to eat.

As we bowed our heads over the food, I thanked God that we were able to enjoy the day. It was not perfect – the rain, the spilled hot cocoa, the fact that we saw not even one of the buffalo for which the island is famous, nor an owl nor any shorebirds all failed to meet our expectations – but we had laughed and experienced nature’s beauty. In addition, I had added seven species to my list, including the mockingbird, which apparently is uncommon in Utah. The day God gave us was better than what we expected. I never could have imagined the sign about no refunds due to insects, nor the blackbirds gobbling the flies.

Typically, I go bird-watching alone, but having someone laugh along with me on the trip to Antelope Island made the day inexpressibly richer. God is the giver of all good gifts, a god of surprises, a god who opens to those who knock, a god who has seen fit to provide us with friends who will encourage us, a god who can turn spilled hot cocoa into an opportunity to experience his love.

Marie Mischel is editor of the Intermountain Catholic.