[Editor’s Note] As this fall migration season winds down, Agate is pleased to share three poems by Phil Fitzpatrick from his recently published book, “Hawks on High.” The collection is inspired by the migratory birds that pass through at Duluth’s Hawk Ridge Bird Observatory, and the many people drawn to the site to count, band, observe and wonder at the yearly spectacle.

The official fall count at Hawk Ridge starts in mid-August and continues through November. This year, by the first week in November, trained observers had reported more than 249,000 winged migrants. Over 57,500 of these were raptors, with broad-winged and sharp-shinned hawks leading in the totals. A wonderful website offers a wealth of information, including a live count feature that updates in real time during the season. Check it out, it’s addictive!

Poems by Phil Fitzpatick

In the Beginning…

Molly Evans and her husband David were two of the original members of Duluth’s hawk watching community. Here, Molly recalls how it was years before Hawk Ridge had gained popularity. She and her fellow pioneers in hawk counting were committed, dedicated to a seriousness of purpose that is still practiced by the Hawk Ridge staff today.

Oh, it was all so simple back then; for a while, we
just used tally marks on the back of an envelope,
whatever we could find; no crowds or computers

too chaotic now; the birds don’t fly quite as low;
we were serious counters but didn’t use clickers,
much too fancy; instead, we used the box method

Jack taught us that: four dots, four sides and an X
equals ten; he was the best, he always had some
little rhyme or song for the kids who were there

you know that Golden Eagle they caught once,
the one they rigged up to send signals back here?
well, they named that handsome bird after Jack

we used to lie back on that big rock and count;
folks would stop by n’ ask what was going on;
back then, we only counted ‘shins, broads n’ reds

Jan, she was so good with details, she’s the gal
got us thinking about our name; we used to be
Hawk Hill, but we changed it to Hawk Ridge

Jan mapped out the trails; she and John cut them;
we said no motorized vehicles n’ the City agreed;
those trails are there yet today and still no motors!

Fud, that’s Dave, doing that banding all alone
like clockwork for years without complaining,
dawn to dusk dutifully sending in his hawk data

was him first thought of using cans to carry ‘em in,
those colored chip cans for sharp-shins, n’ for reds
coffee cans; at last, we could show folks the hawks

no, it’s not like it used to be: a handful of us then,
on an Indian Summer day lying on a rock counting
n’ babbling along together under hawks and clouds

Oracular Info

it takes some time
to learn the order
the proper order
in which raptors
riding ridge winds
will arrive and
everyone here who
already knows it
sounds like Tiresias
at Thebes or the Oracle
at Delphi telling you
broad-wings come first
sharpies too both long
before red-tails arrive
balds ride on through
from start to finish
but goldens you know
not until mid-October
Rough-legged Hawks
of course come last
and close the season
it doesn’t take long
to learn the drill
especially if you listen
to the prophets
they’re the ones
using the Swarovskis

Parallax

is that you, again, old man
watching and wondering
down there on the lonely overlook?
go ahead and wonder on
flight is my birthright
you have yours, I have mine
there are no questions
that can or should be asked
it is all about time,
time and readiness
I know the sense of your thoughts;
like arrows they pierce the sky
around me as I fly

yes, I am lucky, but
the luck is hard won
it lasts a mere moment
you, too, are lucky
rooted down there on the diabase
disappearing behind me
as the orange sunset fades ahead
you have your moment, too
find your own wings, old man;
wonder if you must,
but live now, this season
live the next as well
soon enough, we will both
return to earth

“Hawks on High” is illustrated with fine drawings by Penny Perry, and was published by Savage Press, Brule, WI. Thank you to Phil for granting permission to share his work with Agate’s readers, and for reminding us to keep looking up.