![]() ![]() However, consistent, longitudinal data collected over the past 20 years by dedicated volunteers has shown, according to Davis, “a definite increase in bald eagles and peregrine falcons.” Unfortunately, he says, the problem with the disappearance of the monarch butterfly has become obvious over recent years.ĭavis, who has logged days as long as 10 hours at the observation tower, remembers on a particular fall afternoon watching an immature bald eagle tearing down Sweet Springs Valley, not paying attention to his surroundings as teenagers are wont to do. Early counts, taken over a two or three-day period, were not thorough and didn’t provide much usable data for researchers. Hanging Rock has been an official reporting site since 1952. In 2013, 4,509 of the hawks were observed passing through on their way to Mexico and South America. Three-quarters of the birds observed from Hanging Rock are broad-winged hawks. Twelve species of raptors, including hawks, eagles, falcons and osprey, are monitored from this point during the migratory season that begins mid-August and continues through December. Davis explains, “That’s why there aren’t many counts in the state.” Most reporting sites for the corridor can be found to the east in Virginia and other states up and down the coast. ![]() West Virginia finds itself on the very western edge of the eastern migration corridor. Hanging Rock Raptor Observatory, a tidy wooden structure perched upon a rock outcropping near Gap Mills, is the only official raptor monitoring site in the state, reporting bird of prey counts to the Hawk Migration Association of North America (HMANA). Davis is one of a handful of volunteers who maintain the raptor count at Hanging Rock Raptor Observatory in Monroe County, West Virginia. Anyone who takes it to the next level and becomes proficient at identification is considered a birder.” Rodney Davis is a birder, and this is his answer when I ask him the correct term for someone like himself. "Anyone who likes to watch birds at a feeder is a bird watcher. The seat is hot and my boxers are clinging to my thighs and my fiancée is crouched forward, gripping the dashboard like she’s climbing the summit of a roller coaster. My hands leave sweaty imprints on the wheel. Every noise we make carries through the forest: the chains dangling from the hitch, the various tinny pings under the hood, the trailer rocking back and forth, up and down, as if the mountain itself were bouncing it on her knee. The air smells like earthworms and wet leaves. I max out at 10 mph, which feels like a standstill, or worse, like we’re slipping. I’ve cracked the window to listen for problems, not that I could fix them, not here anyway. ![]() The road is steep, full of shadows and switchbacks, beautiful and perilous at once. We’re hauling a vintage travel trailer up a one-lane dirt road through a wrinkle of the Alleghenies called - what else - Devil’s Hollow. I could have written about West Virginia from 30 different angles, but in the end, I focused on two state treasures: pepperoni rolls, and West Virginia short story writer Breece D'J Pancake. We're continually surprised at how much we see and do on the road without intention, at the errors and pitfalls that make any particular state feel - in retrospect - packed with activity. ![]()
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