Tramping through the Meadowlands

You can't get a more iconic place in New Jersey than the Meadowlands--exotic wetlands, bird sanctuary, water resource and graveyard to mobsters, crisscrossed by the Jersey Turnpike, with the New York City skyline in the background. The email from the NJ Audubon Society was inviting: come visit Harrier Meadow - NOT usually open to the public. Why is an exclusive event so irresistible? Not exactly a pass to Studio 54, but I wanted to be an insider -- even if it's just in the birding world.

Reclaimed landfill along Disposal Road

I showed up promptly at 9:30 at the Meadowlands Environmental Center in Lyndhurst, following my GPS and a few scattered signs. After passing a number of  non-descript office buildings, the road yielded to scrubby fields. We carpooled for the short ride to Harrier Meadow in North Arlington, along Disposal Road, prompting me to muse on the uniqueness of birding in Jersey. 

A birder's landmark: Look for the tire!

How many wildlife sanctuaries abut reclaimed landfills? How often does the leader of a birding hike instruct you to focus your binoculars on the cinnamon teal or the shoveller ducks swimming near those black truck tires? It makes observation easier for me because I always felt challenged locating the three branched cottonwood with the birds at 9 o'clock. I'd have to sneak peeks at everyone else to see which direction I should be facing.  But tires? Now that's an easy landmark to spot.

I was worried about not fitting in with the crowd, but soon found out that it was equally split between experienced Auduboners and the newly curious. A busload of college students from Jersey City were definitely newbies. The contrast was striking: senior citizens with floppy outback hats or baseball caps, hiking boots, bug spray, sunscreen, water bottles, and pants tucked into socks to discourage ticks versus urban, carefree teenagers in shorts and sneakers, a few with white earbuds dangling from their ears, glad to be out of the classroom and definitely underdressed compared to their older safari partners.

We began with a short talk and demonstration from the Meadowlands study team, who were capturing birds, measuring them, recording data and then banding them for release. Mike, the presenter, was good and suddenly we were all enthusiastic, as two volunteers stepped up to hold the fragile Savannah sparrows in their hands and send them skyward.

Savannah sparrow

Blue Jay

Of the forty people, all had binoculars, but some had their bird books and shouldered hefty scopes and professional cameras. At various points along the hike, the leader would set up her high powered scope, trained on a feathery friend, for all to observe. As the woman ahead of me stepped back, allowing me my turn, I asked her, "What are we looking at again?"  She bent her head towards me, and shifty-eyed, lowered her voice, so only I could hear.  "A bird" she whispered.

My favorite part of the morning was the juxtaposition of nature and the modern, industrial world. Keep your eyes downward and you could have been in the Everglades, but raise them above the horizon and you were surprised how close the highway was, how many utility poles and lines there were, how illusive the city skyline appeared, like a faraway Oz. I was simultaneously "counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike" and gazing at the majestic flight of the harrier, a raptor, and namesake of the meadow. I was feeling pleasantly distracted with one foot in each world.