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Feather Fund Makes Another Dream Come True

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THE BOOMERANG COLT

By Sonora Hannah

I would like to dedicate this, my first published work, to God, my Heavenly Father, and to my mother, Genna, and my Aunt Laure… because without them, this story never could have happened.

“I believe that in the moment God created me, He put in my soul a love and a passion for horses. It is something I was born with… a part of me that has always existed, even before I discovered it was there.”

Sonora Hannah

When I sent my application to the Feather Fund in the spring of 2010, I pretty much felt sick to my stomach. I thought that after I sent it, I’d finally be able to stop thinking about it and get some relief from the rollercoaster of emotions I’d been living with for months. That turned out to be wishful thinking because now that I didn’t have the application to work on, all I had were my thoughts.

 What made the waiting worse was that I had already applied to the Feather Fund the year before and remembered the pain of disappointment that had plagued me when I did not win. I was determined to shield myself from that kind of disappointment so to protect myself, I chose to believe in the improbability of my winning a foal. But despite everything, I kept hoping that the odds of my winning might not be so slim after all. I dreamed night and day about what it would be like to raise and train a wild Chincoteague Pony foal from the windswept island of Assateague.

 I had told the Feather Fund in my essay, “I look at all of the people around me who have their own horses; they have a chance to grow together and become permanently bonded in spirit. Sometimes I wonder if they realize just how blessed they are. My heart aches with the desire to have that strong bond of love, trust, and friendship that comes from having traveled a long road together; my heart yearns to start out on the road that will earn me the love, trust, and friendship of one special horse… my horse.”

Mid-May came… the time when I was to find out if I was or was not going to embark on that road. I checked the Feather Fund’s website daily and I tended to get rather nervous when the phone rang. But no news came either on the website or by phone. I was discouraged, but at the same time hopeful. If no winners had been posted, maybe that still meant I had a chance! Even though I tried to tell myself I very likely would not win a foal, I couldn’t seem to really believe it. There had to be a chance for me, especially because this was the last year I would be eligible to apply because of my age. I tried not to feel defeated by that thought; I knew that if I did not win, that it must mean that God had a different plan in mind for me. I wanted to have the strength of heart to trust Him that His plan was what was best for me, and that is something I had been learning to do since the first time I had applied for a foal. In my essay I had said:

“This whole Feather Fund experience has been a lesson for me in trusting God. I want it SO very badly that there are not enough words in this world to fully express the intensity of my desire. It is a feeling so deep and strong that it can only be felt, not spoken. This I can tell you: If I should be awarded a foal it would be the answer to my heart’s prayer of many years, and I would work for all I’m worth to keep that foal healthy and happy in body, mind, and spirit for all of its life. And in return, that foal would be giving me an ongoing purpose, a reason for working and living with all of my heart, and a chance for healing in my life.

“A foal of my own would mean the WORLD and beyond to me. It would be a priceless gift that I would work hard to ever deserve. I leave you in no doubt, I hope, of the sincerity of my heart’s prayer and desire and I want you to know that I would not take ownership of a foal lightly. I have waited most my whole life for the day that the miracle of my own horse would come. My heart is bursting with love to be given away to the one little horse I may call my own.”

I told Feather Fund board member Lois Szymanki, who is now one of my dearest friends, “The day you called is the day I gave up.”

It was June 7 and I had hung onto hope for several weeks past the time when I had thought the winners would be announced. But that day something inside me snapped. My pet rabbit had gone into labor and we rushed her to the emergency room when it became apparent that she was having trouble. The vet gave me a long list of procedures they might have to perform to save Jane and any unborn babies… and it wasn’t going to be cheap. The only money I had to spend on such a big vet bill was what I had been saving back for my pony. I told the vet we’d do whatever it took to save Jane. What else could I do? I said to my mom, “I’m not getting a pony anyway.”

I was pretty shocked to hear myself admitting to it, but I figured I’d better get used to the fact that it was true… I wasn’t getting a pony.

I was in pretty low spirits when I came home that evening with a stillborn baby bunny to be buried and my dream of winning a Feather Fund foal to be buried with it. I dug a grave and lined it with ferns and other spring greenery and then came up to the house to invite my mother to come for the burial. My mom was squinting at the phone when I came in. She asked me to read the missed call for her, because she couldn’t see it very well. I took the phone and read the name on the screen. My mouth dropped and I looked up at my mom, speechless. Mom says she’ll never forget my face; she knew as soon as she looked at me who the missed caller must have been.

And so it was I went to Chincoteague Island, Virginia for Pony Penning, an event I had only ever dreamed of attending! I saw the wild ponies swim the channel from their home on Assateague Island to Chincoteague Island where the foals would be auctioned off to the public to maintain a healthy number of ponies on the wildlife refuge and to benefit the Chincoteague Volunteer Fire Company who care for the ponies all year round. The days before the swim were spent meeting my new Feather Fund family and searching the pens on Assateague for my top favorite foals to bid on at the auction. I found three I decided to keep in mind, but I really didn’t know which of them my favorite was. I had decided I wanted a filly rather than a colt, so I chose a tall liver chestnut paint filly as my number one to bid on. But nothing really felt definite in my heart, even though I had decided it in my mind.

Auction day arrived. My calm exterior belied the intensity of my nervousness. Joy and relief consumed me when my fellow 2010 Feather Fund winner placed the winning bid on the pony of her dreams. And I realized, it would be my turn next. When the liver chestnut filly I had chosen as my favorite came out into the ring, I felt a flurry of excitement, but something about it didn’t feel real, didn’t feel right. Then it was announced that this foal was to be auctioned off as a buyback, a foal which would be sold for a high price to benefit the fire company or a charity, but would be returned to Assateague Island to live wild for the rest of its days. My Feather Fund family and my mom sympathized with me when the news came over the loudspeakers. But strangely, I didn’t feel much disappointment. Instead I felt that it was a message from God saying that this filly wasn’t the one for me. There must be another one out there with my name on it, I thought.

There were only 57 foals to be sold at the 2010 auction. By foal number 52 I was beginning to fear that I wouldn’t be getting a foal at all. I looked at each foal to come out. I watched their mannerisms; I looked into their eyes, searching for some glimmer of a connection between us. I almost bid once or twice out of fear of not getting the chance to bid at all… but I couldn’t do it. Something felt empty. It felt wrong. None of the foals spoke to my heart; none felt like they could be the pony of my dreams. Then I saw him.

He was rearing, plunging against the weight of the wranglers who held him. He was lost to sight as he dragged them along, trying to escape the prison of their arms and bodies. But I had already recognized him! He was on my list of top favorites, the first of my favorites I had seen since the paint filly early on in the auction.

The flashy pinto markings against his dark red/brown coat made him easy to identify. The boomerang marking at the top of his neck on his right side were why I had dubbed him the Boomerang Colt. Excitement welled up in my heart as he was finally escorted into the ring. Before I knew it I was in a bidding war for him. Somebody else had taken a fancy to him, too. I knew in my heart I couldn’t lose him. This was it! He was the one! I only wondered why I hadn’t seen it before. The price on his head went up and up, but I was encouraged to keep bidding. I raised my feather high and finally stood up in desperation.

“Please!! Please,” I said.

The bidding slowed. Then it stopped. It was the longest few seconds of my life before the auctioneer bellowed, “SOLD!” and pointed to me.

Sold! The Feather Fund had purchased him for me for $2,500!!!

My eyes welled up with tears of joy. In disbelief I realized that my dream had just come true. In one little fleeting moment, my dream had been fulfilled for a lifetime.

Even before the Boomerang Colt had come into sight, Lois had leaned over and said to me, “I don’t know why, but I think you are going to get the Boomerang Colt.”

More than once she said it, saying she didn’t understand why, but she felt that it was so.

I wondered at it, but I was so caught up in the auction and searching over the foals that I didn’t give it too much thought. I kept thinking about the little bay and white foal with the butterfly marking on its rump.

 Interesting story: foal number 52 was this foal, but I did not recognize it. I believe that God shielded me from recognizing it because He knew that if I had, I was feeling so desperate that I very well might have taken the plunge and jumped in on the bidding. How thankful I am that I did not get either one of those foals I had chosen for myself! What God had chosen for me was better than anything I could have imagined or dreamed of. Here’s more proof that the Boomerang Colt is God’s gift to me: one of his flashy pinto markings is in the shape of my profile!! No kidding!

The Boomerang Colt’s name is now Mincaye (Min-KY-yee). People are usually pretty curious as to where that name came from and the significance of it to me. To save time explaining, I usually just tell them it is a name that comes from a tribe in Ecuador. Truth is, there is a lot more to it than that. But that is another story…

Sonora Hannah is a high school graduate with dreams of becoming a writer, artist, and horse trainer. She resides in Washington State where she cares for her menagerie of animals which include a Chincoteague pony, a Shetland sheepdog, and a Bengal-mix cat.

Refuge Staff Goes All Out for ‘A Celebration of Migration’

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By Robert Boswell

Publisher, Wild Pony Tales

This is the time of year when the outstanding work of the biologists and park rangers at the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge and the National Park Service is showcased, helped along of course by the arrival of the snow geese and other migrating waterfowl.

I sometimes worry that the year-long fallout from the alternative beach parking controversy will overshadow all that is good about having the Refuge so close, about having a place we can go where it is quiet and we can, at least for a few hours, give our minds a break.

No matter what our views are on the future of beach parking and refuge management let’s not forget to give credit to the highly qualified and dedicated staff members who keep the place running every day of the year. I do not say this tritely or lightly.

I have taken our writers to Assateague many times to gather information for the stories on this website and I cannot recall an instance when our sources – I mean Lou Hinds, his managers, the biologists and park rangers – were not helpful and knowledgeable. Most of the people at the Refuge have degrees it took them years to obtain.

When I was teaching journalism in middle school I would sometimes have a student working on a class assignment call Amanda Daisy, the wildlife biologist, right from class, a real life interview by a 6th or 7th grader.

On a sad note I want to mention a park ranger who was especially helpful to us, Barry Brookshire. Barry was at the Refuge for 16 months until his contract ran out and then he returned to his home in Texas. But soon after he was found to have a malignant tumor in his colon. Doctors were successful in treating Barry but he has been unable to return to work. While at the Refuge he answered many questions for our young writers with all the patience of the teacher that he once was. At the Refuge Barry was what he called a “roving ranger,” moving around the pathways, talking to people, answering questions. If he didn’t know the answer he would go and find it.

Waterfowl Week is a special time at the Refuge. We have the event highlights in another story but what follows are more details, the times, places and descriptions of the activities coming up over Thanksgiving. Every single event is worth attending.

One of the big issues I have with the whole Assateague show is how easy it is to come here and never see a pony, or see them only at a great distance. When our niece, Marcy, was little I don’t think we got to see any ponies, except the ones at McDonalds for which I was thankful, until her third visit. And she only made it here once a year. We did see plenty of evidence, but few ponies.

Rescue Saves 3 Chincoteague Ponies from Slaughter

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By Robert Boswell

Publisher, Wild Pony Tales

See “Life Better Now for Rescued Chincoteague Ponies,” under Recent Posts

Clipper, a small bay gelding, had no hair from under his jaw to his chin with pus oozing from a dozen sores. 

Ginger, a big chestnut mare, was very thin and weak from starvation and parasites.

Captain, a bay pinto gelding, was very thin too. He had the worst parasite problem of the three, so bad he had stopped eating.

All three ponies were several hundred pounds under weight. All had cuts on their faces from ill fitting halters. All three were covered in dry, caked on feces from laying in a dirty stall for days without clean bedding.

All three are registered Chincoteague ponies, sired by island stallions, and they were all bought at the July 2001 wild pony auction on Chincoteague Island.

The three are safe now, thanks to the kindness and courageous work of Debbie Ober who rounded up money to rescue the three ponies. She provides a home for some 15 Chincoteague ponies with her husband, Tom, on a 30 acre farm in Ridgely, Maryland.

Debbie stays on the lookout for Chincoteague ponies no longer wanted and are headed to sales barns where horses are sold only to be sent to slaughter, some for human consumption and some as dog food. She had already noticed the three ponies in a Pennsylvania holding barn, but then she got about 15 emails from people letting her know what was happening.

Friends with Debbie Elliott-Fisk from California, a member of the Buyback Babes who are known for buying ponies at the Chincoteague auction, the two women knew they had to move fast when Deb Ober discovered the three registered Chincoteagues in a “kill pen” that were going to slaughter if not purchased by that coming Saturday night, Sept. 10.

“I had the means to transport them and care for them, but not the bail money to buy them off the kill truck,” said Debbie. So with Debbie Elliott-Fisk they called some members of the Buybacks and other friends for help. “We had a dozen donations come in and we were able to save them,” said Debbie.

But all did not go smoothly.

“The three ponies were paid for on a credit card on Sept. 10, but due to hurricane Lee and flood damage, including a washed out bridge, we had to wait an additional two weeks to pick the ponies up.  They were held in a ‘holding barn’ and brought to the separate ‘pick-up’ barn the evening of Sept. 25.”  The pick-up barn is south of New Holland, PA.

For Debbie these were a very long two weeks. “I continued to make daily calls, sometimes 10 a day, and send emails to check on the status of our ponies.” Another week, then more phone calls, more emails. “My feelings during those days were like a roller coaster, elated that the ponies would not go to kill, then disappointed that we could not go get them. We were losing time to get them to safety and to get them well.”

As much as she wanted to go on the pickup, Debbie had to stay behind. “We had a new foal born the night before and I didn’t want to leave with the foal so young as the first 48 hours are the most crucial.  So my husband and a friend, who gave up his only day off that week to help the ponies left pulling a rescue trailer on September 26 and went to Pennsylvania.

“My feelings were an emotional roller coaster,” Debbie said. ” Tom got home around 6 p.m. that evening and I was elated to finally have them home and safe, but they were in dire condition. I was heart-broken. I found that one had come down with strangles and would have to be quarantined for a week or so.”

But no sick ponies have likely gotten more love and attention than these three rescues. “Two of the three were very sick upon arrival,” said Debbie. “They have all been treated for strangles, similar to human pneumonia, and parasite infestation. Not to mention cuts, scaring, etc. from their auction experience.”  We aren’t out of the woods yet, but are on our way, Debbie wrote on her Facebook  page.

On the Ober farm the new dwellers will have plenty of company.

“We now have 20 Chincoteague ponies on the farm, 10 of which are either retirees for life, have been cared for and are waiting for their forever homes and the last three that just came on September 26 for rehab due to illness and injury,” said Debbie. ” Five of our personal ponies were purchased at the auction on Chincoteague in 2000, 2002, 2006 and 2011. 

Debbie has been providing shelter and care for horses for 15 years, and exclusively Chincoteague ponies for the past 11 years. “With the current economy,” she said, “many more of our Chincoteague ponies are in trouble and I can no longer carry it alone.” She said she gets four to eight ponies a year, some of them weanlings a month after the auction on Chincoteague. “People can’t care for them or didn’t realize the expense involved.”

“If old or injured horses don’t sell, they are usually purchased by buyers who take  loads of horses to Canada and Mexico to be killed for human consumption,” Debbie said. “Very few end up in a retirement facility. A few are purchased as companion horses if someone has another horse needing a “buddy.”  We have four of those on the farm now, she said.

“The kill pen is the last stop for unpurchased horses,” said Debbie.  It is a holding area waiting for the trucks to pick them up.  The trucks come weekly to these auction barns and take any horses left.  I have been told that a facility in New Jersey has two to four tractor trailers a week hauling horses to market for human consumption and dog foods. 

The parents of the rescued ponies are well known to Chincoteague pony fans.

Clipper is the small bay gelding who’s sire was Gunner’s Moon.  Ginger, a big chestnut mare, was sired by  Surfer Dude. Captain, a bay pinto, is a gelding sired by Wild Bill.  “They are all great island stallions, two of which are still living on the island,” said Debbie. ” These are the names on their Chincoteague Pony Association registration papers which they gave the owner in 2001.”

So far little is known about these three ponies between their life on Assateague Island and now. The three  ponies will be available for adoption once they are well. 

Other well known ponies reside on the Ober farm. One is Tornado, a buckskin pinto stallion born in 1988. “He was king of his band for two decades,” said Debbie. “Though he inhabited the same island and roamed the sandy beaches of Assateague made famous by “Misty of Chincoteague,” Tornado become a legend of his own.” He has sired many foals over the years and is one of the most photographed stallions on the island. He was removed from the herd after being injured. Tornado is the sire of Prince, bought by the Buyback Babes in 2007 for $17,500, the most ever paid for a Chincoteague pony.”

Debbie has owned horses since she was 13, as a member of the local 4-H Club. She has bred, shown and raised Quarter Horses and Appaloosas since 1986. “My first Pony Penning was in 1998 and I fell in love with the Chincoteague ponies.” Like countless others, she said she was raised on the Misty stories by Marguerite Henry and in 2000 purchased her first Chincoteague pony.

Having lost her job a few months ago, the cost of caring for the ponies is becoming more than Debbie can handle. It cost nearly $1,500 to buy the three rescues off the kill truck and that was just the start of it. Vet bills so far have hit $300 and then there is hay at $5.00 a bale, feed at $11.50 per bag, wormer at $10 per tube and the ponies need a farrier every eight weeks to have their hooves trimmed.

So with the need growing to pay for the rescues Debbie and others have applied for a formal non-profit  organization to be known as Chincoteague Pony Rescue. Debbie said she thinks the rescues she has handled are only the tip of the iceberg.

 ”We would be grateful for donations to go toward feed and care,” Debbie said. She said if anyone knows of a Chincoteague pony in need, she can be reached at hawkeye@goeaston.net. Her cell is 410-829-3026 and messages may be left on her Facebook page. The mailing address is P.O. Box 125,  Ridgely, MD 21660.

She is also looking for personal and corporate sponsorships for the ponies and the rescue organization.  Corporate sponsors will be listed on the horse trailer and elsewhere, she said. A new website will be chincoteagueponyrescue.org and it is expected to be up and running in a week or so. 

Meanwhile, Debbie is supporting the herd by selling items on Ebay and she is working on a home-based business selling custom business forms, tee shirts and patches and she provides phone answering services.

“I truly love these ponies and they are worth saving,” said Debbie.

Naturalist: Details Count When Watching Birds

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By Betsy Muente

Many types of ducks feed with tails up and heads below the water. Skimmers glide with uneven bills just below the surface of the water waiting to feel the touch of food on their bills. Osprey and eagles soar gracefully through the sky then catch their food with their powerful talons.

George Budd, Naturalist

These are some of the details about birds on the Eastern Shore presented by George Budd, a master naturalist, to an audience at the  Herbert H. Bateman Visitor Center of the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge. The “talk” is one in a series to be sponsored this year by the Chincoteague Natural History Association

The audience was shown intriguing up-close pictures of local birds in their natural habitats. Everyone’s eyes seemed glued to the screen as Mr. Budd showed his pictures and talked about how to tell one warbler from another. He played audio clips  of some birds as their pictures were shown. Other types of birds were shown and details were pointed out so we could see the differences to help us recognize Eastern Shore birds.

 Mr. Budd didn’t always have such an eye for spotting, or as he says, seeing birds. Identifying them came later.

Mr. Budd retired to the peninsula a few years ago. An interest in birds and trips into the marshes and woodlands with friends helped him see what was there but had been hidden from his eyes. More sound clips of bird calls were played showing our ears can be very helpful as well.

Mr. Budd’s interest in sharing his knowledge of Eastern shore birds with refuge visitors prompted him to become a master naturalist focusing on local birds. “Nature is just too broad a topic to not focus on a special interest,” he said. People interested in more information about master naturalists can try virginiamasternaturalist.org

While the audience viewed the array of colors, Mr. Budd pointed out differences in types of warblers, woodpeckers, waterfowl, raptures and more. “Main body color is a good start,” he said. “Look at beaks, size, body types and tail shapes. The smaller details can be key to identification.”

Look carefully at egrets, the naturalist said. The great egret, not only has its size, but also a long yellow bill and black feet. The snowy egret is smaller,  black bill, black legs with yellow feet. The cattle egret sometimes seen on the horses has patches of yellowish feathers on head, chest and beak. Beware though, because I just found out that the little blue heron has a whitish phase. Noticing details can make identification a lot of fun.

In each marvelous photo, one also saw part of the bird’s habitat. Mr. Budd joked about his property originally having lots of rose bushes which attracted Japanese beetles. As the roses died, his wife replaced them with perennials creating a new habitat. Suddenly the yard became alive with life, especially birds. He stresses being aware of what birds like to eat and other needs.

The bills are a key for what birds eat. Short and sturdy identifies seed eaters; while those with a little longer and thinner beaks are insect eaters. He began to see varieties of acrobatic woodpeckers, insect catching warblers and beautiful indigo buntings. “Plant your yard for attracting insects, such as butterflies, and/ or growing seeds.  Be patient, watch and ‘see’ what you couldn’t before.”Mr. Budd said.

 

The talk was filled with details and differences about Eastern Shore birds. Yellow rump warblers dance in the air. Great blue herons stand still or move in slow motion looking for food form such interesting curved poses. “Listening to some birds, we learned that their calls actually gave them their names,” said Mr. Budd. He admitted thinking of all gulls as sea gulls until friends pointed out differences in types of gulls and terns.   

Mr. Budd asked people to remember there’s more out there than birds. Flowers, dragonflies, frogs, butterflies and so much more are to be watched and enjoyed. Some equipment can help, he said. One of the first is a pair of binoculars. The Bateman Center has some that can be signed out at the visitor’s desk. Field guides are a must to identify new birds. Mr. Budd uses a Nikon 70x 300 zoom that he got free for points. He likes the smaller lens for mobility. He suggests that a big money investment isn’t necessary especially to start.

The history association sponsors events and activities promote a better understanding and appreciation of the Chincoteague refuge. The association may be reached at www.cnha@verizon.net or 757 336-3696. The association website is www.piping-plover.org.

Betsy Muente is a staff writer for Wild Pony Tales.

Ducks Swim Into Traps But Find Friendly Captors

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By Sarah Taylor and Robert Boswell

If you were one of the black ducks that stops over for rest in the winter at the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge you might find a welcome meal of corn waiting for you along one of the waterways.  No problem getting to it, just swim through an open space in some wire and there it is.

But guess what. You have just been trapped. That open space you swam through to get to the corn only goes one way. You cannot swim back out.

You will, however, get to help from the biologists at the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge who are trying to learn more about black ducks. Chances are you will be taken out of the trap, a big wire cage, the next morning and cuddled safely in someone’s arms. You will be written up in a special record book. Then you might have a small metal band carefully attached to one of your legs before you can fly away to another spot on the refuge, to wait for spring and the long journey north to feeding grounds in Canada.

We got a ride out to the duck catching area from Janelle Walters, a biological science technician at the refuge. She took us on the service road that runs nearly eight miles out into the northern part of the refuge. On the way we saw the famous ponies, egrets and other birds, and even a baby box turtle.

On the way out Ms. Walters explained that capturing the black ducks helps keep track of their population within the salt marshes of Assateague Island. “The grasses in the salt marshes are very critical habitat for black ducks to feed and rest during their migration,” she said. “We capture them to gather scientific data,” said Ms. Walters.

On the day we were along with her we didn’t actually see any ducks. She said they had stopped coming the week before, near the end of the catching time, March 20. But she showed us how the whole process works.

To band the ducks they first have to catch them. So they build big cages out of wire and metal. The cages are made so the ducks can get inside but can’t get out until they are taken out.  The cage is placed in shallow water and the biologists then trick the ducks to come in by adding  corn as bait.

The bait the biologist use to capture the black ducks will catch the duck’s eyes and, while the duck is swimming. it will go to the corn which is inside the cage. Soon other ducks swim in and all of them will become part of the research. 

Traps, she said, are baited either very early in the morning or late in the afternoon. Either way the biologists show up within hours. Ms. Walters showed how they can close the top part of the trap and lift it by a handle out of the water onto a nearby location on land. Then, one by one, the ducks can be taken out and calmed by cradling them. “They really calm down once you are holding them. They feel relaxed.”

The tools and record books used by the biologists are kept in a backpack, including a string of metal bands.  The first job, said Ms. Walters, is find out if you have a “clean” duck. This is a duck that has not already been banded. Next they check their sex, age and if they are  healthy.

  Then, using a special tool called a crimper, they open the right size band and place it on a duck’s leg. The crimper is set to allow just the right pressure to close the band without injuring the duck.

Ms. Walter said they work in teams. They double check each action, calling out, for example, “Putting on band 56.” Each band has a unique number.

She said the information collected is used by a lot of people. “Migratory information is really important,” she said.

Black duck banding also takes place on Fisherman’s Island on the lower part of the Eastern Shore. Wildlife specialists from the state also help out with banding on the Assateague refuge.

Kevin Holcomb, the supervisory wildlife biologist, told about another way of catching ducks. The wire cage is called a “confusion trap” but they also use “rocket traps.” With this method ducks go to the bait and then small rockets are fired which carry a net over the ducks.

Mr. Holcomb said other bird banding takes place on Assateague. He said Dick Roberts has been catching and banding small birds for years. “He has a wealth of knowledge and is a volunteer not affiliated with the state.”

All of the information collected by Mr. Roberts and by the refuge biologists is sent to the Bird Banding Laboratory in Laurel, Maryland.

Sarah is a 5th grade student at Kegotank Elementary School near Chincoteague Island and Mr. Boswell is publisher of Wild Pony Tales.

BLACK DUCK FACTS:

·       The Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge is on the Atlantic Flyway, the main north-south migration route for birds.

·       The first record of a metal band attached to a bird’s leg was about 1595 when one of Henry IV’s banded Peregrine Falcons was lost in pursuit of a bustard, a large bird, in France. The falcon showed up 24 hours later 1350 miles away.

·       In 1899 a Danish school teacher, Hans Mortensen, began placing aluminum rings on the legs of European teal, pintail, white storks, starlings and hawks. He wrote his name and address on the bands in hopes they would be returned to him. His system of banding became the model for banding done by biologists today.

·       Between 1909 and 1939 a pioneer in bird banding,  Jack Miner,  established a waterfowl sanctuary in Ontario, Canada and banded 20,000 Canada Geese. Many bands were returned to him by hunters.

·       The North American banding program grew out of work by the Bureau of Biological Survey and Canadian Wildlife Service. Bird banding data from North America is now sent to the Bird Banding Laboratory in Laurel, Maryland.

·       Banding research has revealed that some species of birds go south in one pathway and return north by another pathway.

·       The Arctic Tern makes the longest migration flight of any living species, making an annual round trip of 25,000 miles.

·       Bird banding allows researchers to reconstruct the movements of the individual bird.