Photos: Annie Aguirre, Justin Rippey, and Austin Broadwater ready for the solar eclipse with safety glasses; and the trees at Mary Gray Bird Sanctuary. All images by Annie Aguirre.
BY ANNIE AGUIRRE
Sitting in my lawn chair by a secluded pond at Mary Gray Bird Sanctuary, I felt like I had scored the ultimate front-row seats.
It had taken some effort to get there. Carefully rationing my vacation hours to take a full day off was hard enough. Chronic narcolepsy tends to eat away any morsel of spare time I have. Finding a place to stay and witness the eclipse also proved to challenging after plans to stay at a friend’s family condo (conveniently located right next to Goose Pond Fish and Wildlife Area), abruptly fell through. But thanks to a last-minute volunteer gig with Indiana Audubon, I managed to line things up just in time to witness the solar spectacle at my birding happy place: Mary Gray Bird Sanctuary.
With phone in hand and sporting my eclipse sunglasses, I shifted gears from anxious traveler to hardcore birder and set out to observe all that I could during this once-in-a-lifetime event…
Before Totality
An hour before the eclipse, things were surprisingly normal. The transition from light to dark was more subtle than I expected. It felt like a throwback to the hazy wildfire days of last year – still plenty of warmth and light, wildlife just seemed a bit sluggish.
A pair of Turkey Vultures swooped in lazy circles overhead. A Red-tailed Hawk followed close behind, riding the same thermals.
Mid-day songsters carried on as usual, but with longer breaks as the shady haze crept in. Cardinal pairs “what-cheered,” Yellow-throated Warblers trickled songs from the tops of sycamores, and titmice shortened their melodies to “pete-weet-weet.”
While bird activity still seemed fairly normal, herps showed signs of stronger influence. Snakes and turtles vanished from their basking spots, while frogs took turns chiming in with occasional croaks, but none fully committing to it.
Fifteen minutes before totality, I started to sense a shift. The mid-day singers dropped off or switched to contact calls. The nail clipper chips of Cardinals snipped back and forth. Towhees buzzed “zhree” calls from the woods.
Out of nowhere, the metallic call of a Louisiana Waterthrush tinked overhead. A new arrival.
In the final minutes before totality, a swift wind swept low through the wetland prairie – there and gone, like the day letting out its last breath. Then, darkness.
During Totality
As it turns out, the sun has an off switch. In the blink of an eye, light, warmth, and life was snuffed out. Well, not entirely. A few Song Sparrows and towhees – like partners trying to figure out travel plans after a canceled flight – made frantic calls back and forth. The same Louisiana Waterthrush (now on layover in a nearby woods) chimed in with a few nervous tinks.
At the pond, peepers switched on at max volume, while fish literally flipped out. Above, backlit by stars, the Turkey Vulture pair from before swooped low overhead – quickly pursued by their Red-tailed Hawk travel companion.
Beyond, the eclipse halo sparkled and glinted with rubies – solar flares.
After Totality
The sun also has an on switch. A flash of lightning blue, and light and warmth returned in full force.
Following their brief three-minute and 45-second intermission, Yellow-throated Warblers, titmice, chickadees, and other singers resumed their concert. No time for a dawn chorus warm-up.
For the first time, a pair of Barred Owls commemorated the moment with a few whooping rounds of “who-cooks-for-you.”
Peepers switched to silent mode. Fish retreated to deeper waters. Butterflies grew bolder and flashier. A turtle poked its head out from the muck.
New birds flew in. A flock of Purple Martins bubbled overhead. A Pine Warbler announced its arrival with its trilled song. Migration and spring life resumed.
My time at the edge of the pond at Mary Gray Bird Sanctuary was just one tiny moment in a much, much bigger one. Just a snapshot. But through the eclipse, I was able to zoom in and feel the pulse of the landscape, and all the life within. And that has to count for something.
This story originally ran in the June–July 2024 print edition of The Cardinal.
Tags: birding story mary gray bird sanctuary
