A long time ago, Wheaton (1882:347) retracted his record of a blue
grosbeak in Ohio, expunging it from his list of Ohio birds. By 1903,
Lynds Jones narrowly included it in his "Birds of Ohio," saying it had
been "Reported at College Hill, Cincinnati, June 12, 1899, by Laura
Gano. No specimen was secured. It seems likely that it may occasionally
reach our southwestern border." I recall that a few decades ago we still
had to drive down to Adams County to find this species, a pair that
nested at a regular spot. Now it seems to be an increasingly familiar
nester in a number of other spots, from Lucas County down to Franklin
County.
        Even as recently as 2000, I recall writing for members of the local
Avid Birders before a field trip the following, which I titled "The
Maltese Grosbeak":


        It was no problem making her out in the dim light of the saloon. She
was a deep-dish redhead with a figure that just wouldn't quit, and she
left a trail of interrupted conversations and distracted looks behind
her. When she passed my bar stool, she paused and focused on me for a
second, then looked away, smiling as if to herself.
        Before I knew it she materialized beside me in a puff of some heady
perfume, an unlit cigarette in her long fingers. Her green predatory
gaze swept over me briefly, then rested on the bartender's back as he
fixed a cocktail. Tough luck for him this time.
        I scraped my Zippo off the bar and lit her cigarette, watching her eyes
acknowledge me briefly in the lighter's flare. I fumbled out a deck of
Luckies, stuck one to my lower lip, and lit up, my eyes fixed on hers.
Why not, I wondered: I was on a job, but my contact was late, and she
was something special.
        "Sure," she said, glancing at the tiny gold watch on her wrist and then
away. "Sure, why not? Rye and ginger, OK?"
        "I don't remember hearing myself ask if I could buy you a drink," I
answered, as quickly as I could. I was going to say something wiser, but
she interrupted me.
        "You're Willie, right? Willie Wren? You're waiting for the Fat Man,
aren't you?"
        "Yeah, matter of fact," I said, relaxing a bit and hooking a finger at
the bartender. When he went off to make her drink I went on, "I thought
he was coming in person."
        "He's taking care of something--for you. So he sent me." She sent a
smoke-ring over the bar like a warning shot. "So, you got a complaint?"
        "No, no...no complaint." I gave her the smile I reserve for nervous and
difficult clients. "So what did the Fat Man ask you to do? Hit me up for
a drink?"
        I tossed a slug of bourbon against my tonsils, feeling my gut warm, my
eyes carefully on the bottles behind the bar. When she didn't answer, I
looked her way, and found her looking at me.
        "Yeah, Willie," she breathed, her voice husky, her fingers fanned at
her throat, "Yeah, the Fat Man says to tell you one thing--grosbeaks."
        "Grosbeaks?" I croaked. I hadn't expected this. "What kind of grosbeaks?"
        "Wouldn't you like to know," she said, and wet her lipstick with rye,
tidying up with the pink tip of her tongue.
        "C'mon, lady, don't kid around," I boiled over. "What do you mean,
grosbeaks? Is the Fat Man playing some kind of game?"
        She didn't say anything, just gave me a lash with those hot green eyes.
        "Look, I came here, didn't I? Why don't you level with me?" When I saw
her look away I butted my smoke roughly and stood up. "Have it your way,
baby," I said. I picked my binoculars up off the bar and looped the
strap behind my neck.
        "No...wait, Willie--don't go." She took my arm, her voice urgent.
"Listen, he did say grosbeaks...blue grosbeaks."
        I didn't think she knew what she was saying. How could she? I looked
down, saw the pair of Jason autofocus binoculars concealing her
cleavage. They still had a price sticker on them. Something was screwy here.
        I lurched toward her, stopping with my face a few inches from hers.
"Blue grosbeaks?" I demanded, my voice harsh.
        She looked up then, her eyes wide open. "Yeah, Willie. Like I told you.
Blue grosbeaks, at Crown City Wildlife Area. Lots of them. That's all he
said. Honest." I saw her hand adjust her purse, and inside a cute .25
automatic nestled beside her unthumbed field guide. "Don't you believe me?"
        I bowed my head. My heart was leaping like a beached fish. "Well, baby,
I don't know what to believe right now." When I finally raised my eyes
she was gone.


        Also in the interest of frivolity, I just looked at a map of the
counties of Ohio from 1803, the year of the foundation of the state,
showing that among the 17 counties of the day Franklin probably hosted
more birds species than any other; see a version of the map of that day:
http://content.daytonmetrolibrary.org/cdm/ref/collection/maps/id/32 .
Based on that map--containing as it does today's Franklin County, but
also includes Killdeer and Big Island, Pickerel Creek, ending at Lake
Erie to include everything from the western half of Sandusky Bay over to
the current location of Maumee Bay SP, including a virtually unspoiled
string of marshes all the way to Maumee Bay SP. So at one time Franklin
has to have had--historically speaking--the largest bird list of any
county in the state.
So there,
Bill Whan
Columbus


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