Total {solar} Eclipse of the Heart – April 8, 2024

I’ve heard from a few people now that if you have an opportunity to see a total solar eclipse, take it. Do anything you can to make it happen. Go see one of the most awe-inspiring celestial wonders that graces the planet we call home. So with countless recommendations, we decided to do just that.

April 8, 2024: When the moon moved between the earth and the sun. My first total solar eclipse.

This eclipse was a big deal for North America. Unlike some eclipses that occur over the ocean or inaccessible areas, this eclipse passed through multiple major cities in Mexico, The US, and Canada. It also was a long total eclipse compared to others because Earth was in perihelion, aka slightly closer to the sun. (Scientists could explain this phenomenon waaaay better than me, but here’s my summary: Earth’s orbit around the Sun is slightly elliptical rather than perfectly circular and on April 8th the relative distances between the Earth, Moon, and Sun were such that the Moon appeared larger in the sky from the perspective of the Earth. All of that just to say: totality would last for a longer duration.)

Speaking of totality, find the path, and go see the eclipse there. Don’t settle for 97% or 98%. Experience totality. Experience 100%. Experience a total solar eclipse. (The difference between 99% and 100% when it comes to eclipses is literally night an day.)
After seeing the sky completely darken as the moon passed in front of the sun, I can safely agree with anyone who ever suggested chasing an eclipse that it is indeed worth it.

We viewed the path of totality for April 8th’s eclipse, and we chose to commute 6 hours to Erie, Pennsylvania to view this phenomena in our home state. It seemed perfect; not only could we witness celestial greatness, but we could also be around Lake Erie, one of PA’s premier birding locations, in the spring, during migration, in a year when Ross is doing a PA big year. A win-win-win-win.

We drove to Pittsburgh the night prior and my mom graciously agreed to take off work to watch Roger on eclipse day so Ross and I could have the day to ourselves. (Grandparents who want to be involved cannot be understated. And I must admit that I still feel a bit of guilt in having my mom watch my son so that I could go experience something that I wish she could have experienced as well. So mom, if you read this, I OWE YOU BIG TIME.)

We left Pittsburgh early in the morning and drove the 2 hours to Lake Erie. We arrived just after dawn, where we stood at the point in Presque Isle State Park and watched as a number of passerines flew towards land after being caught flying over the lake as the sun came up. Migration, in case I haven’t said it enough already, is a wild, wild thing. Clearly these birds were unaware prior to sunrise that the path they had chosen to migrate while it was still dark was over a large body of water. The Brown Creepers, kinglets, and Fox Sparrows were fun to watch as they frantically returned to land. Hundreds of Red-breasted Mergansers along with Lesser and Greater Scaup made up most of the birds we saw while scanning from various points along the shore.

But even though the birding was alright, it wasn’t anything spectacular and we were becoming increasingly worried about the clouds in the sky. It had been intermittently raining all morning and if there’s one thing that can ruin views of the sun, it is thick clouds. Today we needed nothing more than sunshine.

With just 4 hours until ‘show time’ we made the difficult decision to chase blue skies in Ohio and ditch the eclipse viewing in PA. Suddenly we felt like we were on a spontaneous adventure. We didn’t know where we were going, it just needed to be cloudless skies.

We landed at a small wetland in Ashtabula County, Ohio, and I don’t think it could have been more perfect. The marsh was a great way to immerse ourselves in nature and see how the animals of the marsh would respond to such a rare event. Best of all, we had our little spot in the marsh all to ourselves, except for a few southeastern PA friends who were also in the area and whom we invited to join us. Everyone agreed the spot was truly perfect.

I came prepared with a solar eclipse app timer that would remind me when to look for the rare phenomenon such as shadow bands or crescent circles so I wouldn’t possibly miss a thing. I wanted to see it all.

At 14:00 the moon made it’s first contact with the sun. For the next hour we watched through special solar glasses as the sun became a smaller and smaller crescent in the sky. (This is what you would experience during a partial [98%] solar eclipse.) While this is a unique experience in and of itself, the best was yet to come.

At 15:15, the moon completely blocked out the sun, plunging the world around us into darkness. Only the ‘corona’, a small ring of light, remained visible in the sky as the moon obscured all of the sun’s rays. Darkness in the middle of the day. We ditched the solar glasses and had a free ability to stare into the sky at what would normally be a sun. Part of me wanted to take photos to document this moment and part of me wanted nothing more than to stand there and soak it in. And since I’m not a fancy photographer, I chose the latter.

Totality lasted for 3 minutes and 47 seconds and it might have been the fastest almost-4 minutes of my life. I wish I could bottle this up and do it again and again. Totality is truly an experience that you will never understand unless you experience it. And even then, it still seems surreal.

I truly have no words to adequately describe the whole experience, but let me try.
One of the most spectacular parts of the whole experience was the 360° sunset. I could literally spin in an entire circle and it looked like a sunset all around me. The temperature completely changed and there was a chill in the air.

As naturalists, we watched as the animals around us changed their behavior as it suddenly became dark. This was one of the best reasons why standing inside a small marsh was so rewarding. We saw a group of Turkey Vultures stop circling in the sky land in a nearby tree. The Spring Peepers became audibly louder.
As birders, we noticed the Northern Cardinals singing their evening song, American Robins doing dusk calls, and Common Grackles coming in to roost. The sounds around us completely changed and it was a truly immersive experience.

Ross especially loved watching a single American Crow fly by in the darkness of totality, clearly confused as to why it was suddenly time to find a place to sleep, only to watch as that same bird flew back in the exact opposite direction when the light reappeared.

When combining all of these factors, there’s just a level of complex awe that cannot easily be articulated. And no photos can truly capture the experience. I cannot photograph the temperature, the sounds, or the feelings.

And just as fast as totality began, it was over. Soon this inexplicable feeling slipped away into nothing more than a moment in time. But let me just say, this was a moment in time that I will never, ever forget.

After 3 minutes and 47 seconds the moon had moved just enough for the sun’s rays to shoot back down upon us. Snapping a photo of this moment in time makes it look like a diamond ring in the sky. Suddenly the trees lit back up and there was a warmth instilled into the air. Again the sounds changed.

Totality was one of those things that leaves an impression. I know I’ll never look at a sunrise or sunset the same way ever again. Whenever I hear the phrase “it’s the difference between night and day” I’m going to think of April 8th, the time when I chased a total solar eclipse and got to experience night in the middle of the day.

There are certain celestial wonders that happen that are worth their weight in gold and surely this was one of them.