While watching humans reach new world records in the Winter Olympics this month, it dawns on me that some birds, insects and spiders in northern Illinois deserve medals of their own.
The red-eyed vireo, which flies from South America to the United States in spring to nest, wins gold for its singing prowess.
In late April and May, the vireo starts singing from trees and continues singing all summer long, even in the heat of the day. One source says a single male belted out more than 20,000 songs in one day. He sings, “Here I am over here, right over here,” incessantly as if he’s not sure anyone knows he’s there.
This vireo actually is singing its song to woo a mate or deter another potential romantic partner from intruding on its territory.
The peregrine falcon, once endangered in the United States, has a couple of great flying records. It can fly 60 mph in a straight-level flight when pursuing its prey, perhaps a sanderling flying along the Lake Michigan shoreline. As it dives straight down toward its potential meal, it may reach 200 mph.
Downhill skiers only reach up to roughly 80 mph, although one French skier, Simon Billy, clocked in at roughly 153 mph while pursuing his sport.
Hudsonian godwits make Olympian migrations every year. (U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service)
But wait. There’s a common arachnid called the orb-weaving spider native to Illinois and other Midwestern states that has the falcon beat. This spider species lunges at speeds equal to a human sprinting at 1,700 mph, according to Nova.
Move over, peregrine falcon. The orb-weaving spider gets the gold. Extra points go to this docile, non-venomous spider that eats mosquitoes, gnats and flies.
After ski jumpers do their tricks in the air, they have to land on their feet to stay in the competition. Squirrels are quite the acrobats themselves. Many times, I’ve watched a squirrel jump from a tree limb onto a bird feeder, then practically hang upside down trying to get a seed. They’ll even try to land on squirrel baffles, large, round metal structures placed beneath the feeder.
They often miss their mark or fall off the baffle. However, one intrepid squirrel figured out how to climb up the pole about a foot beneath the baffle, then jump out away from the pole in mid-air, toward the edge of the baffle. As it jumped, it twisted its body so it could grab the top of the baffle and pull its whole weight up atop the baffle. There was the feeder right above with plenty of food rewards for its efforts.
Studies have shown that squirrels need to learn the best way to navigate, and some do fall during their education. So in that way, they are similar to the ski jumpers who also fall during practices and competitions.
One of the fascinating feats of figure skaters is when they twirl so fast that they appear like spinning tops. Professional figure skaters spin about 300 revolutions per minute. But the hummingbird again gets the gold. It can beat its wings 70 times per second, which translates to 4,200 times per minute.
Cross-country skiers require muscle and stamina when traveling up and down snow hills during competition. This year, many of them did a 50-kilometer race, which translates to about 31 miles. At the end of the race, some collapsed from exhaustion.
The monarch butterfly, however, which only weighs about as much as a potato chip, travels at least 50 miles at one time, flying over mountains and rivers during its annual migration.
The gold medal winner for best all-time flyer is the Hudsonian godwit, which breeds in southern Alaska and west-central Hudson Bay in Canada, near the Arctic tundra. Each fall, this bird migrates across North America and then southward across the Atlantic Ocean to northern South America, and finally to Argentina to spend winter.
In spring, the bird flies north over the Pacific Ocean 6,000 miles to Nebraska in one continuous seven- to eight-day flight, rests and then flies farther north back to the breeding grounds. We lucky Illinoisans occasionally see this bird in a small group feeding in wetlands on its journey northward or southward. The last time I saw a Hudsonian godwit was on a May day at Ethel’s Woods wetlands near Antioch. It is a beautiful, regal-looking, long-legged shorebird.
It is amazing to think that the Hudsonian godwit species, which can live to be 20 years old, travels 20,000 miles annually in migration and can fly 6,000 miles at a time without stopping.
Nature certainly has its own true Olympians.
Sheryl DeVore has worked as a full-time and freelance reporter, editor and photographer for the Chicago Tribune and its subsidiaries. She’s the author of several books on nature and the environment and co-author of a coming book on “Birds of the Midwest,” to be published by Timber Press. Send story ideas and thoughts to sheryldevorewriter@gmail.com.
https://www.chicagotribune.com/2026/02/18/outdoors-column-olympians/
