PBS Wisconsin Documentaries

cc >> Prepare to be amazed. Something special has come to Wisconsin. It's a new way to dive in to our state's treasure trove of natural wonders. >> Wow! >> This is cool. >> From soaring sights to small the rights. It's called the Great Wisconsin Birding and Nature Trail. It was created by the Endangered Resources Program in the Wisconsin DNR and the Wisconsin Department of Tourism. And it consists of more than 350 sites that showcase some of the best places in the state for bird watching, or wildlife watching, or simply taking it all in. For the past year, we've traveled the trail, collecting stories, collecting a visual treasure trove. Join us on this journey as we head out "On The Trail." >> Major funding for "In Wisconsin" is provided by the people of Alliant Energy, who bring safe, reliable and environmentally friendly energy to keep homes, neighborhoods and life in Wisconsin running smoothly. Alliant Energy, offering energy saving ideas on the Web. And the Animal Dental Center of Milwaukee and Oshkosh. A veterinary specialist, working with pet owners and family veterinarians throughout Wisconsin, providing care for oral disease and dental problems of small companion animals. Additional funding was made possible in part by the Paul E. Stry Foundation of LaCrosse, Wisconsin, and Friends of Wisconsin Public Television. >> That was an Eastern Towhee. They have a great song, because they say, "Drink your tea." It's a real easy mnemonic for almost everybody to remember. >> Mnemonic, a device, often a verse or rhyme, used to aid memory. Andy Paulios of Madison, like a lot of birders, has a bundle. >> Those are Goldfinches flying overhead. That chipper-chipper, chipper-chipper, chipper-chipper. There are birds everywhere. And they sing so they're noticeable. You know, there are lots of mammals out here that we walked right past, that you never saw because they don't talk to you. >> Paulios is one of the state's best birders. He works in bird conservation for Wisconsin's Department of Natural Resources. And on a day in July, he took us to this thick green woods, a place where 125 different bird species have been sighted of the some 400 bird species that call Wisconsin home for at least part of the year. >> All three state threatened birds are singing right from here. In the distance over here in the undergrowth, you can hear a Hooded Warbler, which sort of says, "Wee-do-wee, do-weee-do-do." And then behind us in the ravine is an Acadian Flycatcher. And he says, "Pizza." And then in the distance, I can hear a Cerulean Warbler. It's kind of far away, but making a sort of, "Cheetle-cheetle chee-chee-chee." Just so you know what the Cerulean Warbler sounds like. ( bird song ) Those are three of the birds that a lot of birders come to see and hear at this spot. >> And where is this spot? Well, it's called Cook Arboretum, and it's no far away, remote forest. In fact, it's just one mile as the crow flies, or as the Blackpoll Warbler flies, from the city of Janesville. >> This time of year, I almost bird exclusively by ear. I mean, I always take my binoculars, because it's sort of a cardinal sin not to have them with you. I use them very rarely when I'm out. Once you get good enough with your ear to identify things. My biggest fear is losing my hearing, before probably losing my sight. >> Mid-summer is a time when some of Wisconsin's birds are still nesting. >> We must be close to a nest there. She must have a baby out here, or something. >> In just a few months, come fall, many of our birds will be gone. >> Probably well over half of the species that nest in Wisconsin spend the winter in the tropics. So, they are really only here for three or four months. And we think of them as our birds, but really they probably spend more time outside of Wisconsin than they do inside of Wisconsin. >> They're migrants. They come and go. They're birds like this one. A Golden-winged Warbler. Every September, Wisconsin's Golden-wings travel the skies, thousands of miles to their wintering grounds in Central and South America. They end up in places like Panama, to the great delight of bird-watchers and the locals. Who, of course, regard our birds like the Golden-wing as their own. >> Golden-wing Warblers. >> Golden-wing Warbler, okay, go up and to the right of the light. >> You got him! >> Frank, you're the man! >> Wow. >> A Waterthrush, perhaps Wisconsin-born, cruises a rain puddle in Panama in search of insects. The birds that make these extraordinary journeys to the rainforest and cloud forests of the faraway tropics are called neo-trops in birders' parlance, short for neo-tropicals. >> Then there are the neo-trops that we're most familiar with, things like Orioles, Warblers, and those sorts of guys, have all evolved to eat insects. So they need to go down to the tropics and non-breeding grounds to get that food. They go down to Mexico and Central America, which is pretty amazing, because these birds are only a few ounces in weight, and can fit in the palm of your hand. But they're traveling thousands of miles every year. >> All that traveling has a cost. >> These birds are losing 30-40% of their body weight overnight. A little 6-ounce or 10-ounce bird might lose two or three ounces overnight in a 300-400-mile flight, so it has to find a spot that's not only safe from predators, but also that it can really gorge itself on insects and fruit, and build all that fat back up for its next leg of migration. >> Which is where Cook Arboretum comes in. It's the largest, uninterrupted block of forest in Rock County. Great for birds to nest. Great for birds to refuel. >> This spot's great, because with a nice big block of forest, both a school forest and the private land around it. It's a good combination of having enough habitat to have some really good birds. >> How good? Well, during our visit, there was a significant score. This little bombshell. It's a female Cerulean Warbler. And it is a threatened species in our state. >> Not only are they threatened here in Wisconsin, but they're probably one of the most imperiled warblers in North America. A lot of their habitat has been lost in the eastern U.S., most recently to a lot of mountaintop mining efforts in the Appalachians. And then to make things worse, they also winter up in the Andes Mountains. That bird that we just saw might be on its way to Peru in two weeks here. It's a bird that U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and a lot of other groups are worried about. So it's great that a little school forest like this can play a part. >> Cook Arboretum. It serves as a way station for these little birds on their long journey. >> We have a lot of good research now that shows that their populations can be impacted, or limited, not just about where they live and produce young, but where they stop and refuel during migration. This is sort of a classic kind of Cerulean habitat. You wouldn't think about it, but these city parks, urban parks, or even your backyard on any given day in migration, could be really important to a bird. You know, if you have a little warbler that spends the afternoon in your backyard eating the caterpillars off your tree, to that warbler, it might have been a lifesaver. Maybe you allowed it refuel for its next 200-mile flight to Northern Wisconsin. >> These tiny travelers need to refuel. They need their rest stops. Places like Cook Arboretum. It's a critical part of a journey that can cover continents. The journey back home. >> There's an animal that is so secretive, so hidden you're lucky if you hear its call in these woods. To say nothing of actually seeing them. These mysterious creatures only emerge at night, which is why Jim Dufek arrives in the waning hours here at the Woodland Dunes Nature Center in Manitowoc County. Dufek volunteers here as a member of a group called the "Night Gang." >> The Night Gang is a group of volunteers who come out to check the nets at different times during the night. Right now,

we have 10

00pm, midnight,

and 2

00am. People come out. >> They show up at these time slots nearly every night for nearly six weeks. Every night, these nets go up. >> We've actually had as many as 70 in a night when you get northwest winds. >> You don't want to stick your finger in there. Oh man, there is something in here. Now remember, these are full grown. >> Bernie Brouchous reveals the animal the Night Gang netted squinting in the sunlight. >> These are not baby owls. These are full grown. >> They looked awful, but they're really not. >> This is a Saw-whet Owl. And Saw-whets are the stars of the Woodland Dunes annual Owl Fest. The name again is Saw-whet. It's Wisconsin's smallest owl. >> Saw-whets maybe 8 inches, wingspread maybe 14, 16 inches. They're very light. Just a couple ounces. >> Owl Fest provides a chance to see this petite predator up-close, and to gain an appreciation of how it survives in the world of night. >> Where are its ears? Who can tell me? Where do you see them? You don't see them! You see that disc of feathers, the disc-shaped feathers here? They direct the sound to behind that disc. Back there is where the ear is. If you look, there it is. >> Oh, my gosh! >> Behind the eyeball. >> Oh, my gosh! >> That's weird. >> Oh, my goodness. >> That's weird. >> These disc-shaped feathers direct the sound to the back of that disc, to where the ears are. One is higher, one is lower, which helps them be able to hear even better. >> This bird is a hook. A way in, through an interesting animal, to an interest in the natural world. Jim Knickelbine, the Executive Director of Woodland Dunes. >> I hear references to gateway species along the Wisconsin River. Or, you may have Bald Eagles congregating. For us, it's Saw-whet Owls. They're very appealing to people. They're a calm bird. They're amenable to being shown and then released. Being able to get people in close proximity like that forms a connection. So for us, they're our gateway. >> Bernie Brouchous has been absolutely critical to making that connection. He's not a researcher. For most of his life, he worked in local grocery stores. >> Usually, we'll catch between 200 and 400 Saw-whet Owls each fall. >> But for all of his life, Brouchous has been passionately in love with birds. Bird watching and banding. Every year, the Saw-whets migrate through the woods and wetlands of Woodland Dunes as they migrate south along Lake Michigan. >> We use the glove, because it lays on its back with his talons up waiting for me. He's snapping his beak. He wants to scare us. >> Those that are caught are banded. >> I always band on the right leg. I guess it doesn't make a difference, but I band on the right leg. >> And information about these little birds is recorded. Secrets spill out of their wings. >> You see, there are two different colors of these. These are lighter than these. That means that this is an adult. It was not hatched this year. Well, we want to find out where they go, how long it takes them to get there. Do they come back to the same spot? How many have bird books? All right. You look in there and it tells you where the bird nests, and where it goes in the wintertime. That's all through the banding program. >> There was no Woodland Dunes Nature Center when Brouchous started banding here. In fact, it was the success of his banding efforts that put this place on the map as a migratory hot spot. Because of that, Brouchous pushed to get this place preserved. 1,200 acres and 30 years later, it is. This is a bird haven. But it is the Saw-whets that steal the show. Darren Lorre. >> I've been fascinated by owls. And I learned of this event going on and I thought, wow, I have to go down there and be part of that. >> You decide who will adopt this owl, because we need somebody to raise it. There, we got one, okay! >> Brouchous has spearheaded a program to adopt an owl at Owl Fest. The money raised will help the Center buy new nets. >> Put the owl right on the ground, let him go. Okay. >> There he goes. >> He cheated! He went in the mulberry tree instead of the lilacs. But we can all come and see if we can see him now. We should be able to walk up to him. >> There is something that makes me feel good to know that I've perhaps helped, and just knowing that I kind of did something that is out there in the wild. >> To be out there in the wild. Brouchous now serves as the Center's Environmental Education Director. He'd love to pass on his love of birds. >> We want to teach kids the love of the out-of-doors. That is diminishing and that's a disaster. >> It's called a Saw-whet Owl. >> It's a piece of wilderness. These kids have never seen an owl like this before. They don't even know these things exist. >> Spread your fingers like that, and I'm going to take his legs and put them on your hand like that, on that finger. And you close your hand. >> It's a touch of wildness that hopefully will help a love of nature take wing. >> Open your hand, and he'll be fine. >> She's going to take a picture. Put your hand on the grass. Pull your hand away. >> There she goes. ( engine starts ) >> All aboard! >> You know, I had heard about the train ride. And I thought, birding by train, I don't think so. That's not going to be my cup of tea. And the first time we came out, I was really just blown away. It is just such a great time. And it gets you down to the habitats you normally can't get into, which is really fun. >> This is a rare visit to one of the wilder places in Wisconsin. There are no roads here. You can hike in, but it will take you hours. Or you can ride these rails. The run is 8-1/2 miles, but it only happens maybe a dozen times in a year. In May and September. They call it the Tiffany Train, because it travels through the Tiffany Bottoms State Wildlife Area. The river that runs through it is the Chippewa. This is a wild place. And it's owned by us, the State of Wisconsin. >> We're talking 13,000 acres in public ownership here. It's the largest flood plain forest in the upper Midwest. This area is gigantic. >> Craig Thompson is a Regional Land Manager for the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources, and an ardent birder. >> It's gigantic and remote. You could be in here and wander around for a long time and see all kinds of neat things and never see another person, but you're going to bump into a lot of critters. >> That could be a female grosbeak. >> On top of the tallest-- >> A grosbeak on the top. >> Yes, it is. >> Great. >> The Tiffany is one of the best birding places in the state. It's big, it's wild. And it's got location. Take a look at this map. The Chippewa feeds the Mississippi River, one of the world's major migratory flyways. That makes for a lot of birds coming through, which in turn makes the Tiffany and surrounding forest land around the Chippewa a treasure trove. Hundreds of different bird species move through this place. >> 75% of all the birds that occur in Wisconsin utilize, from a breeding standpoint, this particular tract of forest. If you look at the additional species that occur in northern Minnesota and northern Wisconsin that don't necessarily breed here, but travel through here, you probably have virtually everything coming through this system, because it's so large. >> Which is why on a Saturday in September, Thompson and other DNR volunteers are leading a bird watching trip in the Tiffany, sponsored by the non-profit group, the Natural Resources Foundation. >> Are you keeping a bird list? I'll keep one. >> Fellow DNR employees Mike Mossman and Georgie Steel, the former Manager of the Tiffany, Dave Linderude and the current Manager, Kris Johansen are there to show off the place. >> We have this combination of these beautiful flood plain forests, the largest intact flood plain forest in the Midwest. And in amongst it, you have these prairie openings. >> And field questions. >> What was the bird we just heard over here? >> The Red-bellied Woodpecker? That rattling? It sounds a good deal like a kingfisher. >> It does, right. >> While they're watching for wildlife... >> A resting monarch. >> Let's backtrack. Let's go back to the train. It's staffed by volunteers, train fans who found a mother lode here. This railroad was abandoned in 1979, after a derailment. Abandoned until this group took out a lease from the power company that actually owns these tracks. They bring their own railroad cars, and they cleared the tracks. No small task. Terry Yest of the non-profit Chippewa Valley Motor Car Association. >> Nature had taken the thing over again. There were trees, two and three and four and five inches in diameter, growing up between the ties, between the rails. We had to cut down through here with chain saws. And it took us about three years to get 8-1/2 miles south. >> It's wide open now, and makes for one of the more unusual train trips in the country. >> We do these rides, probably seven, eight times a year. We hook all of our available cars together, and we can haul 60, 70 people. It's a beautiful piece of country. It's pristine. Kick back and watch the scenery go by for about 8-1/2 miles. >> If it's so wonderful, why so few trips here, just in May and September? >> As beautiful as it is today, this place is a green hell in the summer. Tall nettles, poison ivy. There are bugs everywhere. Ticks, skeeters. This is a head net place. You can't do it without it. When the deer flies hatch, never mind, you're a donor. >> But during those precious days in spring and fall, there's no place finer. Mary Keese elaborates. >> It's awesome to come out here and have someone who has this bird book. >> Catbird, Waxwing, Spring peepers are calling. Goldfinch, Canada Goose, Crow, Red-bellied Woodpecker. >> Then he lists off 12 different birds he's seen or heard. And I felt deaf. >> White-tailed Sparrow. >> When did you start birding? >> Today. It was really wonderful. Really interesting. You just learn so much coming on these things about Wisconsin. Nature is just so awesome. I'm just enjoying it. >> This is an old-growth forest here. They're over 200 years old. They're about 125 feet tall, on average. ( loud chattering ) That's the Herons. The noise they make. The chicks are going to be begging for food. The adult birds are going to call to each other. This place here is called a rookery. It has Heron nests in it. A Great Blue Heron is the largest in North America. He's about four feet tall. They like to nest in the tallest trees they can find. They show up here in mid-April to May for nesting to begin. Then, between September and October, they migrate down to Central America, Mexico and the Gulf states, where they spend the winter. They mate for life. They'll return to the same rookery year after year. We have about 85 nests. That's 170 herons. That's a lot of herons. Then if they each have a couple of chicks, that's quite a lot of birds up there. They can have anywhere from one to two chicks, up to four or five. How many chicks survive depends on what the food supply is like that year. The herons don't really know how much food they're going to be able to get. It's a survival strategy. They'll lay all the eggs that they can. If there isn't enough food, the older stronger chicks will push the weaker ones out of the nest. You probably want to get out here in May, June or July. July is most active, because the chicks are older. You can see them sitting in the nest and hanging out. By August, the rookery is quiet. They are very fierce. They'll use their beak to try to stab a predator if they can reach them. The taller the tree is, the more advanced warning that they have, that there is a predator trying to get up there. That's why they choose the tallest trees they can find. They nest in big groups, so that way, there's always one parent on the lookout for the predators like fisher, eagles or bears. Their main self-defense is to vomit on intruders. And even the chicks will do that. Over time, the herons, in whatever place they choose for a rookery, they'll end up killing the trees, because of their acidic droppings. Here, the herons are actually moving their nests a little bit closer to the trail system every year, as the trees that they were nesting in start to decline and die. So, you can see them right off the trail. I don't know of anyplace else where there is a heron rookery right on a trail. There are other rookeries around, but they're usually way back someplace you can hike into. Here, you can hike along a nice little trail. >> Yeah, it's something else to hear them chatter up there. They must have a regular conversation with each other, huh, when they jabber like that. This is quite something, this area right here, isn't it? All them pines. Oh, my! So nice and straight. >> These tall, old-growth pines provide protection for these fragile heron families. If you visit, remember, this is a rookery. There are babies here, so tread gently and speak softly. Disturb them and they may leave. Keep them here. >> There are countless reasons to come here to the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore. It's a place of clear blue waters and wide open sky. It has some of the most wild and pristine territory in Wisconsin. Territory that, in turn, provides some of the best birding and wildlife watching in the state. But Bob and Peggy Hom of Duluth, seen here on their hands and knees, were drawn in by a different siren song. This couple came to Stockton Island in the Apostles, specifically to Julian Bay, for the singing sands. >> He wanted sea caves. I wanted singing sand. >> This is the sand in question. Neil Howk is an interpretive ranger for the Park Service. And he's palming a handful of the melodious grains. >> There are specific characteristics that you have to have in a beach sand for it to make sounds. >> We're from Duluth. We have a beach there. And it's different sand than this. You can definitely tell the difference. >> The sands of Julian Bay are different and relatively rare. It's estimated that only 10 to 20% of beaches worldwide have what scientists call singing properties. >> It can be called whistling sand, or whispering sand, or barking sands. >> It takes a bit of technique to make the sand sing. Howk demonstrates. >> If you just kind of... ( howling-like sound ) There. >> Yeah. You hear that squeak? >> You sure can. >> If you listen really closely, it sounds like "Shine on Harvest Moon." ( laughs ) >> Very closely! >> Okay, it's not the New York Philharmonic, or even "Harvest Moon." >> It sounds like corduroy pants. ( sand sounds continue ) >> There's more to singing sands than meets the ear. >> Is there a particular time when it's good to try to catch singing sands? A particular time of year, or time of day better than the other? >> They have to clear their throat first! >> I hooked up with Howk to get the score. >> What makes the sound is the sand grains rubbing together. It's like having a bag of glass marbles and pushing them around. You can either walk on it, or just move it back and forth with your hand. And that gets the grains to slide past one another, and elicit that high-pitched sound. Sometimes it's called squeaking, singing or whispering. >> That's too cool. And it makes your hands clean! >> Another factor in making beach-based music is the shape of the beach itself. Julian Bay is perfect. This mile-and-a-half long curve serves as a kind of conveyor belt to move and work and re-work the sand. >> We've got this beautiful long crescent-shaped beach, and the sand is trapped here. It is not eroding out into the lake very fast. And it moves back and forth up and down the beach. It's that rolling up and down the beach that rounds the sand grains. That's important to being able to produce the sound. >> Just as critical is the kind of sand. Cue the quartz. >> When you look at the beach sand here at Julian Bay you notice that it's very light in color. And about 90% of this is quartz, which is mostly made of silica. It's just like glass. So by the time the sand has come this far down the beach, the wind and wave action has rounded all the sand grains. It's worn away a lot of the lighter material, so it just leaves the quartz. It also has sorted the material so all these sand grains are very similar in size. So the similar size, the rounded nature of the sand grains and the high percentage of quartz are the three things that come together to create the sound that the sand makes when the sand grains rub together. ( howling-like sound ) >> This song is special. And it's not going to stay on the charts forever, geologically speaking. >> The Apostle Islands are temporary things. We look at them, and we think that they've always looked this way. And they've only been here for a few thousand years. They're in the process of being eroded away. The lake action, the wind and the waves is constantly chipping away at the islands, and breaking off pieces, and washing it out, and filling up Lake Superior. If you were here 100 years ago, there would have been at least one more Apostle Island. There used to be one over on the west side called Steamboat Island. A winter storm around the turn of the century washed it away. >> Singing sands face another threat. It's much more immediate. When there is too much organic matter in the water, it can clog the sand, and degrade the singing qualities. Singing sand beaches around the world have been silenced by pollution. ( sand sounds continue ) So musical sands are like a canary in a coal mine. This song speaks to the health and the clarity of the waters of Lake Superior. >> Mornings are often songfest time on the trail, particularly in spring. So sit back and take in some tunes. Here's what we heard on a dawn visit to Rose Lake. ( bird songs throughout ) >> It's a Wisconsin tradition. It's a wonderful early bird adventure. >> Oh, there's a crane. >> Where? >> It's flying. See it? >> Yes. Yes, right there. Okay, so mark that in that quadrant. >> It's the crane count. The annual Midwest crane count. >> I see another one coming. >> Where? >> Over there. >> Once a year, on a Saturday in April, for two crack-of-dawn hours, 5:30am

to 7

30am, they count. >> You just heard one, right? >> Yeah. >> Yep, great. So we've got three so far. >> Yep. >> They count Sandhill Cranes. Binoculars first went up on this bird back in 1976 in Columbia County. That count was sponsored by the International Crane Foundation in Baraboo. Now the count has been expanded to involve more than 3,000 volunteers, in 100 counties in five states. >> Uh, I'm waking up. >> This early morning in Jefferson County, volunteer Hallie Kirscher Henning of Madison and her mom, Claire Kirscher, joined long-time friend Diane Walder of Madison, and her nephew, Devon McCune. They were assigned to count four quadrants in Zelowski Marsh. >> Here are some donuts! >> That was promised a long time ago, right? >> They were guided by veteran birders, Nolan Kollath and Ed Grunder of Lake Mills. The day starts before dawn with a quick class in crane calls. >> Here's Sandhill Crane. ( crane call ) You hear the two different tones there? That's a unison call. >> That means they're calling back and forth? >> They're right together. They're doing this right together. It's a pair. >> It might seem a little dark to be bird watching. ( different crane call ) >> Hear the different tones up and down? Okay, that's not one crane. That's two cranes. >> But veteran bird watchers, like Kollath, don't need to see the birds. >> What's that little toot? Do you hear that? "Toot," yeah. >> They ID primarily by call. >> That is one part-- >> That is? >> Yeah, right there. >> I'll be darned. >> It's a matter of listening, as much as watching. Listen to this. What do you hear out there right now? >> I hear Song Sparrows. I'm hearing Redwing Black Birds. I'm hearing Grackles behind me. ( various bird songs throughout ) That's the Song Sparrow again. Killdeer. >> Which is why sound, the calls, the songs of the sandhills are used in addition to sightings to count the birds. >> We had a unison pair calling up there twice. >> It's more like three times. >> Three times up there? >> And I've got a call here. >> Devon is getting them all. ( cranes calling ) >> Of course, cranes fly. So how do you count them, and count them only once? The volunteers note if they hear the cranes, or if they see them. They note the time and the direction the crane is flying through each of their assigned quadrants. The process is not completely precise. But it does give a picture of the population of this amazing bird. >> Once you hear the call of the Sandhill Crane, it's just -- It's in your blood. >> So I look forward to that every spring, hearing the first crane. It's very exciting. The harbinger of spring. >> When I was a kid, we didn't see them. They were hunted close to extinction. I think I was in my 30's before I saw my first one. I didn't know what it was, and I'm a bird watcher. I heard the call, and I didn't know what it was. >> It was just incredible that comeback story, a success story. The Sandhill Crane count had dwindled at such low numbers. The numbers now are just incredible how they have come back. >> This bird was nearly gone in the 1930s. It's estimated that Wisconsin had just 25 nesting pair. With the right habitat, it's taken off. The most recent count was over 13,000 in Wisconsin. Habitat matters. This place, Zelowski Marsh, is a testament to that. >> We're looking at the incredible restoration and progress. It was a wetland in the early '40s. It was drained and turned into a muck farm by the Zelowski family. It was potatoes, and mint, and onions grown here for years. And then in 2005, it was purchased by the Madison Audubon Society. >> The Society and a host of partners set into motion this current day restoration. Drains were closed, basins filled by the U.S. Department of Agriculture, and in just a few years, the marsh came back. And so did the wildlife. >> It's just been incredible. >> Pre-restoration, they counted 30 bird species out here. Those numbers have soared. >> In 2007, it was the first year post-restoration. We did weekly bird counts out here. We came up with 169 species. >> It's a paradise. >> It's a big water park for birds. >> A paradise for wildlife and wildlife watchers, like myself. >> A paradise reborn and ready for the next generation to take up the binoculars. Hallie provides the final numbers. >> Today, we saw 22 total cranes. And then last year, they only saw 18. So we beat the new record by four. Last year, there was five breeding pairs. And this year, there's seven. That's really exciting. >> When I think of the north woods, I think of the four W's. I think woods, water, winter and wildness. We are at the Little Turtle Flowage in southern Iron County. It's a manmade flowage built in 1970. I think it's 11 degrees. And in the wind, it's a lot chillier. There's no such thing as cold weather, there's just bad clothes, as someone said, as I'm sitting here shivering. Winter is the root of the north woods. If you can't handle winter, you aren't going to survive. This is the testing moment for every single species here. If you want to truly appreciate what's going on in the summer, these things all had to survive the winter to get to the summer. But it's not going to be a cornucopia of life, like it is in late May, when everything is singing, and there are birds dripping off the trees. That isn't the case yet. ( bird songs ) The adventure on a day like today is to find, in a landscape that seems empty, the life that's really going on. Most of our species of birds have gone south, and are drinking pia coladas right now quite happily. I think the greater trick is not so much this outward journey of finding things, as much as the inward journey of understanding what's taking place. There are physiological miracles by the dozen going on out here. Hibernation would be one. Animals can drop their body temperatures down to near freezing, have a breath once a minute at most. They're in fundamentally a lifeless state, and not eat or drink for six months, not urinate or defecate for six months. These are miracles. Frogs are buried at a depth just about three inches down. Wood Frogs and Chorus Frogs, for instance, Spring Peeper. They're frozen. They're literally frozen. They're little ice cubes. You could stir your drink with them. They'll pop out in late April and be calling. ( loud sounds of birds calling and frogs croaking ) How does that work? It's really an ordeal to survive here. Think about being a Chickadee. You know, weighing a few ounces and survive a 16-hour-long night and it's 30-below. You only weigh a few ounces. How much fuel do you have in your furnace to get you through? Not much. You know, Chickadees go into controlled hypothermia every night. That's their physiological miracle to let them survive. They actually drop their body temperature 15-plus degrees in order to burn less fuel. That's a miracle. Any place in the north woods, in my mind, is open for exploration 24/7. So you roll the dice and you come out and you look, and you see what happens. You take what the day gives you. Every day has its blessing. You look for that, and be glad you've got clean air and some silence, and a tremendous amount of beauty around you. Then go home satisfied. >> Devil's Lake State Park is always a stunning place. And on an 80-degree day in October, it's bustling with visitors. It's a bit of a climb, up past those boulder fields, to the top of the ridge. But the view is worth the walk. Look again. There's something more. Many more. >> Look at all of them! >> This morning, we saw 250 of them at once. >> Wow! >> Wow, cool! >> Wow, this is cool. >> You're watching an annual October event. Turkey Vultures massing in Devil's Lake State Park before their Fall migration. >> Their in migration time, when 300-400 birds congregate. >> It's the biggest roost in the whole Great Lakes area, for sure. Mike Mossman led this field trip for the non-profit group, the Natural Resources Foundation, along with his wife, Lisa Hartman. Mossman works as a wildlife researcher for Wisconsin's Department of Natural Resources. On their own time, this couple has spent decades researching this bird. >> I met Mike in '81. I guess in '83 was when I started going out to do Turkey Vulture work with him. So, I've been doing it for 25 years. I just love watching them fly in. >> It's absolutely magical. It's still like that for me. It doesn't change at all. They're just so beautiful to watch in the air. They seem to be so adept. They can fly, literally, for hours and hours and hours without flapping their wings. They're very adept at just soaring. I'm sure that when they're soaring, they're as relaxed as they would be if they were standing, except they have to pay attention and follow where those currents are. Their wings are kind of held at a dihedral, you know, a little shallow "V" above the body. That's an identifying characteristic of the birds in flight. >> Flight is one thing. Do they still compel close-up? For this couple, they do. >> I can't stop looking at them. I am just so taken with them. I could spend all my days just staring at that bird, watching them coming in to roost, watching them flying, watching them socialize with one another, in the trees in the morning. There's nothing that I'm not interested in knowing about them or watching them. >> It's this passion that has fueled their decades of research. We prevailed up on those years of knowledge when we asked these two Turkey Vulture experts to look close, to analyze some roosting and flying footage we'd shot. For example, we knew that the Turkey Vultures are stars at soaring. They can float for hours. But how do they change directions if they don't flap their wings? >> Their wing tips. They have emarginated primaries, so there's like finger-like space between the tips of the primaries. So they maneuver those. Each feather is a shape of a wing in itself. And so, they use just the wing tips to maneuver on the currents. >> They talked about feathers and behaviors, sunning, and the preening of feathers. >> They do a lot of the same things he's doing right now. >> Yes, that he, with his head buried in his feathers, sitting on a perch, overlooking their kitchen table, is their Turkey Vulture. >> Okay, so this is our captive Turkey Vulture, Uncle Bootsy. I named him Uncle Bootsy after a favorite uncle of mine who loved birds, and who encouraged my interest. His left wing is broken. We took him on as an education bird. >> Uncle Bootsy provides the up-close portion of their education program. We have learned that our birds go down to South and Central America for the winter. I would do slide shows, educational slide shows for people. Still people were coming away and saying, "Oh, they're ugly and they stink." Then I started taking a live bird with me. It was amazing the difference than just trying to convince people how beautiful they were. The bird could do it by itself. It's so beautiful. You've got to look at him close-up. They have this incredible iridescence in their feathers. I just think it's so anemically described in the literature and the field guides. >> Both Mossman and Hartman feel that the Turkey Vulture doesn't get its due. And it's unduly dissed for chewing on dead things. Consider another bird. And American icon that often shares the same diet, but has much better PR. >> In the winter, Bald Eagles are feeding, primarily, on dead things. The same fields, the same type of carcasses that the Turkey Vultures would be in on in the summer, the Bald Eagles are in the winter. >> Death is ever-present. And vultures play a crucial role due in part to their biology. >> They have a very good sense of smell, which is strange for a bird to have. >> Maybe it helps to watch them for a while, to gain an appreciation of their place. Jen Aslaakson of Lavalle, one of the trip participants. >> Being on a farm and seeing when something dies out in the field or the woods, and you see the Turkey Vultures cleaning it up, they do a good job. Nature's clean-up tool. >> For me, they're beautiful because they're part of creation. They have a place in nature. We look up and there's a whole bunch of vultures flying around. We feel like, you know, the world is okay. Everything's working. Everything's beautiful. Nothing could express that more than that bird. >> Hartman has been writing a memoir about her time as a Turkey Vulture researcher. Here's a little bit to leave you with. >> It's just that sort of day where the only thing that makes sense to do is to stand on the highest point possible to greet migrant vultures coming in from the south, to search and wait like the fair young maidens in the old ballads, for their lovers to return over the distant and rolling seas. The only difference is that I know my love, the vultures, will actually return, whereas for the young maidens in the ballads, this was not always the case. >> There is, beneath our busy lives, an old call, painted stroke after stroke on the sky. It's the call of migration, that ancient coming and going, reminding us of our own rise and fall. Dawn in a marsh, in Columbia County. It's our last stop for our trip on the Great Wisconsin Birding and Nature Trail. Hundreds of sites remain, waiting to be explored. Time to create your own journey. Time to head out on the trail, the Great Wisconsin Birding and Nature Trail. To learn more about the Great Wisconsin Birding and Nature Trail, including information on getting your own free copy of the five guides that make up the trail, you can check out our Web site.

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