When my wife Alex announced that her ride to the Conference on College Composition and Communication (her academic field’s biggest annual conference) had fallen through and she would need me to drive her to Cleveland, this year’s host city, she pitched it as an opportunity.
You can do some birding.
Birding! In Cleveland! On any given day Alex is brimming with good ideas, but this time she outdid herself with potentially the greatest idea she, or anyone for that matter, has ever had. Cleveland has provided me a bounty of rarities and life birds over the last few years. Heermann’s Gull, Black-throated Gray Warbler, Brant, Little Gull, and Red Phalarope, to name a few. Yes, the shores of Lake Erie have been generous with exciting and varied avian life, and I can never wait to get back.
With luck, I could add a bird or two to my life list. At worst, I’d have a great time looking at gulls and waterfowl. Whatever the case, I was sure to wring a Substack post from the experience.
And the more I thought about it, the more my adventure evolved. When the time came to set sail, a tripartite plan had solidified, and I defy anyone to find a flaw in my itinerary.
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Part 1—Birding
I’ll be honest—the rare bird alerts coming out of Cuyahoga County lately haven’t exactly been setting the world on fire. Great Egrets are tall, elegant, statuesque, and indeed great, but I’ll see 200 of them in a single tree in North Carolina this June. Eastern Towhees are wonderful and beautiful and all, but why drive two hours for a fat sparrow I often see and hear in my own yard?
Gulls. That’s what I wanted. Rare gulls. I had one in mind specifically—the enormous Glaucous Gull. Larus hyperboreus. I’d never seen one. They’re not terribly common in Cleveland, and yet apparently not scarce enough to merit rare bird status. A quick peek at eBird informed me that two of them had been reported at Wendy Park on March 3rd—two days before our departure. Perfect! Good chance they’d still be there, and Wendy Park was just an eight minute skip from where I’d be dropping Alex off.
I was ready on Wednesday morning, equipped with binoculars, spotting scope, camera, and snack. For added luck, I was bringing along my copy of Amar Ayyash’s The Gull Guide. Calcifer, our sturdy Kia Sorento, was ready too. We got a bit of a late start due to some last-minute multi-conference planning (Alex, attending two!! conferences over four days, would be jetting to Baltimore on Friday to attend the Association of Writer & Writing Programs conference), but by 1 p.m. the Cleveland skyline was rising on the horizon.
Or at least it should have been.
Is something on fire? I asked Alex as we exited I-77 onto East 9th Street. No, something was not, but downtown Cleveland was enveloped in a soupy fog I had not anticipated in the early afternoon. After kissing Alex goodbye at the Hilton Cleveland Downtown, I drove west, mildly dismayed by the conditions. Might make birding tough, I thought, but hopefully there would be some visibility on the lakeshore.
Think again. Thick fog and icy waters meant the gulls were far from shore and way out of sight. I could hear them plenty good in the distance, screeching what seemed to me like targeted derision.
As for ducks? Forget it. Couldn’t see any. Couldn’t hear any. Only at the adjacent Whiskey Island Marina was there anything amounting to visibility. I was the lone birder on the scene, a fact not lost on this Ring-billed Gull, who perched just long enough to sneer and side-eye me before adding its voice to the symphony of belittlement.
If there was a speck of empathy to be found, it came from this dock, where a lone American Herring Gull stood in solidarity, refusing to chide me in my plight. I can’t say why exactly—call it a vibe—but I swear I detected sense of fellowship in that moment—man and gull and a shared lament for the conditions at Wendy Park.
And would it be crazy to say that I also felt a twinge of remorse from this bird, as if abashed by looking so incredibly similar to a Glaucous Gull, especially through a veil of fog?
Well, I wasn’t about to spend much more time staring into a stubborn wall of gray. In a show of courtesy, I bowed to the Herring Gull, gestured obscenely to the Ring-billed Gull, and pointed Calcifer east.
I’m not through with you, Wendy Park. See you soon.
Part 2—Feeder Ninja
When my college bestie Holly texted me a few months ago seeking advice on a bird feeder for her new home, I got to thinking what the best options were. A good old-fashioned tube feeder filled with black oil sunflower seed was the obvious choice, but that would also perhaps require a shepherd’s hook and a squirrel baffle, if she didn’t want the feeder ransacked by a relentless squirrel army. All those accessories can add up, especially if you want something that won’t rust or break down after a year or so. A finch feeder loaded with thistle seed is less attractive to rodents, but thistle is also less likely to attract a wide variety of songbirds.
Then it hit me—in an effort to scale down my feeders and attract birds with native plants (and to slim my bird seed budget), I’d indefinitely decommissioned my FeatherSnap smart feeder. I enjoyed my time with the feeder and got a kick out of the tech, but in addition to the cost in US dollars, there was the time lost checking my phone for new visitors. That wasn’t the feeder’s fault. No need for it to languish in a garage, so why not give it a new home? When I offered the feeder, Holly accepted, though when and how it would be delivered remained unknown, until my plotting mind got to work.
After my gull debacle, I drove 25 minutes east to the suburb of Willoughby, where a Wild Birds Unlimited would provide sustenance sure to attract a wide variety of colorful songbirds to Holly’s yard. Readers know my mission is to spread bird joy, and on Wednesday I was gonna spread joy with all my might. Not only would Holly be Crazy for Cardinals in no time flat, she’d be Wild for Woodpeckers, Nutty for Nuthatches, even Freaking the Fuck Out for Finches.
To solve the potential squirrel problem, I procured a bag of wild bird seed laced with hot pepper. Squirrels hate that stuff. As for Holly’s kids, they like spicy food. I could only hope the mealworms would deter them from reaching for a handful of mixed seeds and nuts.
Holly’s house was a short drive from the shop, and soon I was pulling into her driveway with devilish glee. I got to work straightaway.
Because I had to pick our son Santiago up from an Odyssey of the Mind rehearsal back in Pittsburgh, the clock was ticking. The idea was to sneak over, install the feeder, and vanish into the shadows (or rather drive away in our Kia) like some canny bird feeder Ninja. None would be the wiser, but just as I was putting the finishing touches on the setup, a school bus pulled up in front of the house. Out popped Holly’s two sons, who are friends with our two sons. Busted.
You caught me! I said with amused resignation.
Hey! they answered in unison.
I just set up this bird feeder. Kind of a belated housewarming present.
Cool!
I gotta run or I’d stick around and say hi to your mom.
Okay!
Her younger son disappeared into the house. His brother, about to follow him in, paused suddenly and turned to me with an impish smile and a parting question.
Can I see your bald spot?
What could I do but laugh and oblige? I bent over to give him a favorable angle of my middle-aged glory, winked in admiration of his temerity, and hopped back into Calcifer.
Time for the final stage of my master plan.
Part 3—Swensons
Swensons, a regional chain of drive-in hamburger stands operating mostly in northeast Ohio, was founded by Wesley “Pop” Swenson in the Wallhaven neighborhood of west Akron in 1934. For almost 100 years Swensons has been serving the best goddam fast food burger in the world and slowly expanding its footprint around the state. Two locations that existed when I was born in 1975 have since expanded to 25, including this stand in Willoughby.
I’d hoped to celebrate my lifer Glaucous Gull with a double cheeseburger with everything. Nothing doing, but you think one little gull setback was going to spoil my lunch? No way. Whereas my no-quit attitude might have petered out at Wendy Park, no amount of fog could ruin a cheeseburger with pickles, onion, and mustard. Anyway, I needed some comforting, so why not indulge in my ultimate comfort food?
As much as I wanted to savor it, the burger went down in a blink, gone so fast I might have thought it a dream, if not for the photographic evidence.
With that, I applauded some nearby parking lot House Sparrows for their good taste, bade goodbye to Northeast Ohio, and turned Calcifer toward Pittsburgh. Not long after, Holly texted her thanks and disappointment we couldn’t hang out. That was a bummer. Time for a less stealthy visit soon!
Two days later, the FeatherSnap feeder was synced to her phone. As of publication, no birds have yet been lured, so let’s make the most of their reticence. I put the question to you, dear readers—what bird will be first to pluck a morsel from Holly’s new feeder?
10/10 Recommends
A rite of passage in the maturation process of any Akronite is the realization that there is no reason to eat at McDonald’s when a far more delectable option has been available since long before the Golden Arches first darkened Akron’s culinary scene. Where I have failed so far to make birders of our children, they request—nay, they demand—Swensons every time we visit Akron. That makes me proud. As for you, dear readers, next time you’re in Ohio, give Swensons a try. In 2026, the entire state is peppered with locations. Cheeseburger with everything is my recommendation, and any of their tasty sides and beverages. (I also recommend you avoid the Galley Boy, though the signature burger with its two special sauces has its devotees.)
Countdown to 1,000
On the morning of March 5, posted our podcast episode of Ten Birding Questions on his own Substack. Shortly after that, a wave of new subscribers pushed me to 1,000 and beyond. Thanks to Bryan for the wonderful talk and the generous share. And welcome, new subscribers. Hope you’ll sit and stay for a while.
Current subscriber count—1,005
That’s all for this week. Have you seen any good gulls lately? Has rotten weather foiled your birding plans? Do you have a favorite hometown burger joint? Have you ever surprised a friend (or been surprised) with a gift? Let’s talk frustration and redemption (and burgers!) in the comments.
Until next time, thanks for reading, and don’t forget to bird your ass off, or in lieu of good birding, eat the hell out of your favorite comfort food.
nwb
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This post was human generated. All media by Nathaniel Bowler.
Developmental edits by Alexandra Hidalgo.
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