Birding at the “Wilkie Unit” of the Minnesota River Valley National Wildlife Refuge

I set out at noon for this place on the Minnesota River. The day was cold, only 40 or 45 degrees, but so wet that I could be sure the temperature would stay roughly the same. I dressed more for water resistance than for warmth. The overcast sky scattered light everywhere in the phenomenon so coveted by photographers. These optics and the wetness of the foliage always make the various shades of green so much more distinct than usual.

Although I could feel the cold in my wet toes and fingertips, I was rewarded for my afternoon adventurousness. At the beginning of the day I told myself I would do something new today, and I did. I followed a new trail where I saw northern shovelers, blue-winged teal, tundra swans, red-tailed hawks, bald eagles, wood ducks, American coots, great blue herons, and a chipping sparrow. For many of these birds, today was a day not for adventure but for loafing before continuing their yearly journey north.

I saw only two people on my walk, and only from a distance. And I had an encounter with a fox. The fox was reddish orange and its fur was wet. I saw the black tips of its erect, triangle ears. Through binoculars I watched it traipse and bound. It was looking around for prey, not paying me any mind at all. From the distance I was at I don’t know if it even saw me. It appeared to be using its sight as much as its hearing to hunt. Or perhaps it was foraging, taking whatever it could get. Maybe it was a mother who had pups to bring food to. Funny that they should be called “pups.” I have read that a fox can bark like a dog. It did not catch anything before I lost sight of it, as it entered a dense copse of quaking aspen.

Because my perception is dim and my memory is distorted, there are certain moments I must record as they happen. I feel compelled to write them down so they don’t dissipate like vapor and go cold. The time when I helped a dead-drunk man to a bench, the time I skinny-dipped with eight girls in the Caribbean, the time I heard meteorites as they fell to earth, all these events can slip away from me if I do not put them down somewhere. My hike alone on a cold and drizzly – but bright – April afternoon is the same way.