Cowboy Up!

Estimado vaqueros,

Coming to you from Rodeo, NM, the Phrase That Pays is, "Cowboy Up!"

April 29 was a milestone day, because after 14 hours in the field, we broke 500 birds for the year!

Aside: We actually had no idea what time it was most of the day. New Mexico is one hour ahead of Arizona, and much of the morning we were on the border of the two states--literally, on "Stateline Road". Birds on the right of the road were in Arizona, birds on the left were in New Mexico. Plus, the truck's clock was still on Texas time. Makes for some messy record-keeping!

Today was spent in the vicinity of Cave Creek, in the Chiracahua Mountains, on the east side of Arizona. It's a beautiful place, and if you're ever in southern Arizona, Chiracahua National Monument is worth the 2-hour drive from Tucson for views like this:

If you're a birder, then the west side is good, but the east side is GREAT. The shady, riparian canyons attract all kinds of birds, especially in spring and summer. 

However, these birds aren't arrayed for you on a silver platter. You have to go looking, and look pretty hard. And when you're tired, you need to seriously Cowboy Up, because the rewards will justify the effort. To wit: 

Our festivities began around 730am with a flock of 20 Lark Buntings and a few Botteri's Sparrow, and the new birds continued like a leaky faucet, slow but steady, all morning. After lunch, we hiked up the famous South Fork of Cave Creek, finding everything from a Grace's Warbler, to a pair of Elegant Trogon, to the aptly-named Magnificent Hummingbird, until we finally limped back to our truck at 5p. But did we quit? No!

Instead, we drove an hour over washboard roads to the top of the mountains, elevation over 8,000 feet, to find a number of high-elevation specialties. We found Mexican Chickadee and Yellow-eyed Junco, but unfortunately whiffed on all the rest. Tired and slightly disappointed at the ratio of birds to miles driven, did we quit? No!

We returned to the canyons, at a modest 5,400' elevation, and slowly cruised the roads. Every mile or so, we stopped, turned off the truck, and listened for a few minutes. At around 9:30pm, we hit paydirt...our first-ever Mexican Whip-poor-will!

And thus 14 hours of birding produced 20 new birds for the year, and two very tired people who are the first E-birders in the country to tally 500 birds for 2015!

We are now only 97 birds short of our goal of 600, and still have 8 months to go. Hitting our target seems achievable, although everything will come much more slowly from here on. 

So when you are tired and ready to quit, just remember... Cowboy Up!

Haiku

We are parked next to the highway in Big Bend National Park, about 2 miles west of Panther Junction (gooooo Panthers!), because it's one of the only pockets of cell signal we found in 50 miles. Here's a quick update on our progress, and a poem.

Yesterday's challenge was locating a Colima Warbler. The Colima Warbler is possibly the most physically exhausting bird to find, as you must hike at least 3 miles up a steep rocky trail, gaining as much as 2000 feet of elevation, to reach its habitat. And, the only place in the United States that the bird can be found is in Big Bend, so it also requires a several hour drive from the closest big cities.

Fortunately, we found the warbler, signing his little heart out while plucking bugs from the leaves of an oak tree. While we didn't see a second bird come join him, we thought his song was sexy enough to merit the attention of a day, and we wish him well in his romantic endevours.

On the way down, inspired by our recent Texas experience, I composed this, just for you:

I hate mosquitoes
Blood suckers leave itchy welts
Die, mosquitoes, die

One more night here, then off to Arizona!
Me

Addition by Subtraction and then More Addition

Queridos amigos amigables,

I reach out to you from Laredo, Texas, with tales of joy and dismay wrapped in a single day, like an overstuffed messy burrito from that little shop in the Mission; you feel bad and a bit guilty at first, but then you can't wipe the smile from your face as you dig in, even if you can wipe off the guacamole. And thus, similes and sentence length have been stretched to their limit, like the tortilla wrapping that burrito. 

You may wonder what all this has to do with birds, and I will get there eventually. Just like you eventually get to that bit of tortilla and sour cream that is wrapped in the bottom of the aluminum foil encasing your burrito.

The day began with a sad, sad email from a volunteer at eBird about our putative Hook-billed Kite. Her dagger:

"The bird at the bottom is a Broad-winged Hawk without a tail, and I have to say it is a very odd looking bird!"

This made us sad, like when you discover that, despite clearly asking for extra jalepeños on that burrito, that there are actually NO jalepeños. Bummer! No Hook-bill!!

We considered drowning our sorrows in a pitcher of margaritas at lunch, but decided to stay frosty. We might be needing our senses, like when your burrito has a beautiful garnish of cilantro and crema, and that spicy chipotle chicken, and yet the mariachi band is approaching.

This turned out to be the right decision. Unlike tipping the mariachis.

Driving west from McAllen, we took a left turn at San Ygnacio in our umpteenth attempt to find White-collared Seedeaters. You see, we have looked and looked and looked for these damn birds, and have struck out every time. And this isn't walk-in-a-manicured-park-in-perfect-weather birding. This is usually 90F-and-90%-humidity-walking-through-overgrown-area-on-banks-of-Rio-Grande-under-watchful-eyes-of-Border-Patrol birding.

While other visits have been unkind, today was different.

No kidding, we parked, walked down the hill to the banks of the Rio, paused to listen, and heard the birds calling. We walked 100 yards down the trail, looked up, and there was our first Seedeater!

Was this Birding Karma paying us back?

Like when that little place in the Mission apologies for forgetting the jalepeños and brings you a free side of guacamole.

Salud,
Me

Spray and Pray

Buenas noches, mis lindos pequeños bandidos,

McAllen, TX is a hot, steamy conglomeration of shopping malls in an otherwise hot, steamy but low-budget area. It's the largest city in south Texas, and has become a mecca of retail therapy for both Texan Fashionistas and well-heeled Mexicans. Now go forth, and consider yourself informed.

We happen to be in McAllen (again) because certain birds love this climate. Wild guess, but I assume they aren't here for the Saks-Off-Fifth or Cavender's Boot City...a better guess would be the plethora of bugs, dense brushy cover, and aforementioned hot-n-steamy weather. All of which explain why we'll be getting out of here soon!

Our recent birding adventures have continued to turn up one new bird after another, albeit at a slower pace than before. This is causing us to try new techniques, at which the Birding Purist (and you know who you are!) may cringe.

I have dubbed my favorite technique, "Spray and Pray" (which is ironically appropriate given the evangelical bent of the region). In this technique, the brave/lazy birder aims their camera at a possible target, blasts a bunch of pictures, and then reviews the pictures later to see what they hit.

Does this technique work? Believe it or not, sometimes, your prayers do get answered.

Exhibit #1:

What chu lookin at, Willis?  (betting nobody under 40 gets that reference...)

Now, we knew that we had a number of Green Parakeets, which have entirely green bodies. We didn't know until we reviewed the picture, however, that they had been joined by a Red-Crowned Parrot (you may need to zoom the pic to see that the middle bird, staring at the camera, has a red forehead).

Note also that some of the pictures we took that night highlight one of the major cultural problems sweeping America today: Public make-out sessions by Parrots. In this particular place, there were probably 500 parrots lined up on the electrical wires, most of them in pairs. And, most of them were shamelessly snuggling and kissing, like this set in the middle:

Get a room!

I could not tell you what the upper-left parrot is doing. But I digress.

Exhibit #2:

One of the tricks-of-the-trade for raptor identification is to look at the silhouette of the bird. Since details of feather color can be hard to see from 1000-2000 feet away, other clues like the shape of the wings and length of the tail are needed.

In this case, we believe the bottom bird is a rare Hook-billed Kite, based on the very round, paddle-shaped wings, [4/24 update -- it's not :-(  An expert said that it was a Broad-winged Hawk missing his tail feathers] (He's joined by 3 Broad-winged Hawks and probably 1 Mississippi Kite a Sharp-shinned Hawk, if you care. Which I know you do.) There are fewer than 50 breeding pairs of these birds in the US, and all of them are located within 20 miles of McAllen. None had been reported recently, so we didn't even think we would see one. And, this was literally a random blast of the sky. We're waiting to hear back from the local record-keepers to confirm our guess, so hopefully I won't have to edit this blog post in a few days! [4/24 update -- I'm editing :-( ]

Now, you can question the validity of counting this bird, since we didn't know we'd seen it at the time. However, we did see the sky with the bird in it at the time the bird was there, and we did ID it from the photo, so to our ethics, this counts. If you don't think we should count it, then just track your own damn list, and keep your hands off our rights to bear 400mm lenses!

Stay frosty,
Me

Island Time

Happy 4/20 from South Padre Island!

We've been here since Saturday, weathering one more huge thunderstorm downpour, but otherwise had fairly decent weather.

Turns out this weekend was the 12th annual Beach-N-Biker Fest here, which resembles Sturgis in much the way a tabby cat resembles a mountain lion. Each night of the Fest offers a concert, and Saturday night's headliner was the Georgia Satellites, who were last relevant when Rocky battled Drago and Alex P. Keaton walked the halls of Leland U. Which also gives you an idea of the average age of the Fest'ers. Saturday night was pretty tame around here.

Birding has primarily revolved around two unlikely places, Sheepshead Street and the South Padre Island Convention Center. Sheepshead has several vacant and overgrown lots that are maintained by a local land trust, which has set up water drips to attract birds. The oasis of green draws all kinds of migrants, from warblers to cuckoos, and we've had a slow but steady stream of new birds from there.

The Convention Center has lush landscaping that also has turned into a Bird Magnet. The Center allows Birders to park in their lot and walk around the grounds, and it is hugely popular; we stopped by today at 11am, and there were probably 50 people there. Aside from the popularity, the other problem is that they allow people to put up memorial signs for deceased friends and family. So, every 10 feet, there is a waist-high sign of a dead person, which we find both a bit of a downer and a hazardous obstacle:

Photo from thedauphins.net

But, there are many, many birds to be found in this Migrant Trap. So, we tolerate it.

We went off-island only once, attempting to find our first Aplomado Falcon, yet another bird on the Endangered Species list. They're struggling due to habitat loss and pesticides, and so breeding programs and preserves are set up to help them recover. They tend to have large territories, and so can be hard to locate; we've been to Texas at least 5 times and never found one.

This trip promised to be no different at first. We first drove back and forth for about 20 miles along the highway near where they had been reported. Then, we tried a dirt road where they had been seen, but almost got stuck due to mud from recent storms, and had to back up 1/4 mile to turn around. Finally, we said to ourselves, "Hey, Selves, this thing called the Internet might be helpful here!" And, a quick search later, we found the magic words, "Breeding platform located at milepost X near the AT&T cell tower". And, voila:

If you do happen to be in the vicinity, I recommend a side trip to the Palo Alto Battlefield NHP, which documents the first battle of the US-Mexican War in 1846. They do a good job of explaining the event, and their grounds are also a good place to find Cassin's Sparrow. If you care. Which I know you do.

Otherwise, we've pretty much hung out here, stopping to check the beaches and bushes for whatever may come by, as migration season is always full of surprises. For instance, just a week ago, we were wondering where all the Franklin's Gulls were, as we had yet to see one. Just so happens, they're here:

Click photo for the full Glory of Gulls

Tomorrow is eagerly anticipated by Birders around here, as the weather forecast is for winds from the Northeast until 3AM. This should slow down the birds, so we may have some interesting finds in the morning!

Go Warriors!
Me

You Spin Me Right Round Like a Record

A todos mis pequeñas bailarinas,

Corpus Christi, Texas is not an atypical American city. There is a somewhat decrepit downtown and a robust commercial area/StripMallHell along the freeways. The city was founded in 1839, so it has some old neighborhoods with interesting architecture, but many other less-appealing places. Time and hurricanes have taken their toll.

For those reasons, we're camped north of there in Port Aransas. However, the birds don't realize that CC isn't the most pleasant place, so we spent much of today exploring parks and other places in the area. One thing you learn quickly as a New Birder is that birds find all kinds of habitats appealing, such as:

With its groomed lawns, lofty trees, extensive mosquito collection, and gravestones and mausoleums from the 1800s, the Rose Hill Cemetery is an ideal location for birds to relax while in Corpus Christi. 

After a long day in the city, we returned north to our campsite, stopping at the Port Aransas Nature Preserve to see what might be lurking. While strolling the mile of trails and boardwalk over the mudflats, we were shocked, shocked I say, to find a large group of Wilson's Phalaropes fueling up for the next stage of their migration.

We managed to get a video of their activities, presented for your edification:

One might compare this to the game played at Sunday picnics everywhere, where you put your forehead on a baseball bat and rotate excessively before running to a goal. Except, instead of just doing it at a picnic with Uncle Morty, you do it every day. Many times per day. Or you starve.

So, our annual tally after today's exertions stands at 450 species! On to 500!

Tomorrow night, we should be on South Padre Island, ready for a potentially migration-stalling north wind that is supposed to hit Sunday night. [Editor's note: Assuming we make it through tonight, see postscript]

Dancing the night away,
Me

p.s. Oh, by the way, there's a tornado warning currently underway here, and we are advised to seek shelter, as two twisters have touched down east of CC. Thanks to a massive thunderstorm, we're advised to be prepared for floods, quarter-sized hail, and given this state's Biblical inclinations, likely a plague of locusts. Oh, Texas! Let's hope our solar panels make it through OK...

Confessions

In Corpus Christi right now, after a semi-eventful day. Today will forever be known as, "The Day of Many F***-Ups":

1. Today at dawn was our last chance to hear a Yellow Rail without driving hundreds of miles out of our way. Last night, I set the alarm for 5AM, but left it in the front of the trailer. Unfortunately, at 5AM, the alarm went off but the volume was turned down, so we didn't hear it. At 7AM, we woke, but alas, it was too late. Adios, Rail Amarillo.

2. Turns out, several of the birds that had been seen recently near us were in Anahuac NWR. Unfortunately, last night, I didn't research this sufficiently, so we decided to go to Smith Oaks instead after missing the Yellow Rail. Didn't see anything interesting. Tonight, 250 miles south, we realized that not only were birds we needed being seen in Anahuac, but they aren't being seen anywhere else in Texas right now. So, an additional trip to Texas may be in our future this Fall...

3. In Smith Oaks, we saw a bird but didn't think too hard about it, since we thought it was a regularly-seen Red-Eyed Vireo. It sounded a little different, and looked a little different, but that didn't register with us. Later, looking at the bird ID book, we're 90% sure it was the not-so-regularly-seen Philadelphia Vireo, which had been reported in the area. If we don't see it again in the next few days, then we only have one more chance in our current itinerary, which would be September. Dammit!

So close, yet so far...

Regretfully,
Me

The Greatest Animal Sound, or the Greatest Sound?

Para mis pequeños anfibios,

Still near Galveston, but the weather was much better today. Sunny, windy, 85F, and near 99% humidity for much of the day. This sounds bad, and it was, but the windy moist heat is a far cry better than a no-wind moist heat. Which still isn't as comfortable as a dry heat. But I digress.

The birds today were good, but not the highlight (foreshadowing). We added 8 birds for the day, from the diminutive Bay-Breasted Warbler, to the secretive Least Bittern, to the stocky Gull-billed Tern (no insult intended, buddy, but that's what they call you...at least it's better than "husky", right?).

The highlight of the day was a sound. Not just any sound, but one of the greatest sounds ever.

Allow me to present to you, [drumroll],

The Sheep Frog!!!!

I never knew they existed until today, when we heard them while standing on a road through the middle of a marsh. We whipped out a mic, and they laid down some ill tracks. I don't know why I love that sound so much, but I do.

What could be better than a few Sheep Frogs going off? Try a group of them!

Note that this is NOT the most annoying sound in the world. This is:

For extra fun, start the video above, and when it gets to about 7 seconds, start the video below:

Sleep well,
Me.

Fast and Furious

Greetings from Galveston!

Actually, we're not in Galveston. But from here, we can hear her seawinds blowing and see her seabirds flying in the sun. We're just a little north, on the Bolivar Peninsula, which is close enough for horseshoes and birding, I say.

Today was another marathon in a string of 26.2's. We rose at 5:30am, were on the road by 6am, and didn't relax until dinner at 8pm. In between those times, we battled rain, another series of thunderstorms, 120 miles of freeway through the middle of Houston, more rain, ravenous and dastardly mosquitoes, and there may have been a new bird... or twenty.

That's right, we picked up *twenty* new birds today, woohoo!

The first few birds came on a visit to the Attwater Prairie Chicken National Wildlife Refuge, where we took a tour to see the eponymous fowl do its version of the Chicken Dance.

FYI, the Attwater's is possibly the rarest bird in North America. The refuge estimates that in 1900 there were around 1 million individuals, and now maybe 100 or so remain in the wild, which actually is double the population from 10 years ago. Turns out that we value prairie more as tract homes and strip malls than we do as habitat. Oh, and bringing fire ants to America, which consume all the insects that the baby chicks eat as well as the chicks themselves, probably wasn't the best of ideas. And frankly, the male birds themselves are pretty dumb... they insist on doing their mating dances in the middle of open spaces, so they're easy targets for hawks.

After that ecology lesson, we relocated about 120 miles east to our current campsite, passing such fine businesses as Daquiris To Geaux and Darque Tan ("the finest chain of luxury tanning salons in the world") as well as an inordinate number of gentlemen's clubs and churches, often not that far from each other. Texas!!!

Around 4:00pm, having checked in and dropped our trailer, we headed north to the famous High Island, one of the richest birding areas during spring migration, for a little evening excursion. The area is just a few inches higher than the surrounding land, which makes the difference between supporting only small shrubs vs. huge trees. Birds flying up the coast see that oasis of oaks and dive in for a respite, which concentrates them in a fairly small area.

Today, after the recent storms, there were a ton of birds and probably 100x the mosquitoes. Despite long-sleeve jackets, long pants, boots, and a DEET bath, at times we held out binoculars with one hand, while slapping pests with the other.  Yet in one stretch, we averaged finding more than one new bird species per minute!

With all that, our tally has jumped to 424, which crushes our prior personal best of 406. Not bad for a couple of amateurs...

For the next few days, we're going to hang in this area and see what the weather does. As of now, thunderstorms are supposed to rumble around through Saturday, so we'll see what that does to the migration itinerary.

Until next time,
Me

A score of a score and two of birds!!!

A mis amantes de las aves, con salsa de naranja,

This missive is fired your way from... wait, guess where we are!

• There are many many many bugs. Most of them bite, and some of them are big enough to make a man tremble in his boots.
• The weather has ranged from windy and hot, to raining and hot, to the old Donner and Blitzen.
• Everybody around us has funny accents. 
• There's a guy across the way in our campground named, "Danny Bug".

What did you guess? If you guessed Alaska, you would be incorrect. Since when is it hot in Alaska? I mean, it will be in a few years, but not so much yet. If you guessed anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon line, then you would be close. We're in Texas, just outside Austin!

The last few days have challenged our bird-finding powers. Wind and rain are nemeses of The Birder, and we've lived through more than enough of those since leaving Colorado. Oh, and we drove, like, 1,000 miles and had to get the oil changed on our truck. Oh yeah, and we also broke some the safety equipment on our towing system pulling out of a Dairy Queen, for a snack that will turn out to be one of the more expensive Blizzards in the history of all mankind. Aside from that, though, it's been great!

To give you an idea of the experience, we recorded this sound file this morning, as we found Bird #398, a Golden-cheeked Warbler. Turn up your sound and click this link for a taste of our morning... you can hear the rain, then the thunder, then at about 13 seconds in, our target announces to the world that today is a wonderful day:

But, the exciting news is that we have ID'ed our 400th bird! After 5 more today, we sit at 402 for the year, which, as of tonight, is tied for the highest count in eBird this year in the country!!

The weather forecast for the next few days includes a number of storm fronts moving through, including more wind and rain. While this is annoying for me, it also could create terrible conditions for migrating birds, causing them to take shelter on land so that we can see them. The Gentle Reader may find taking advantage of the misery of wee little birdies to be a bit selfish, but to that I say, "Hey, dude, don't hate the player, hate the the game!"

Half a day around Austin tomorrow, then we head toward Houston for the Boomin and Blooming Festival and hopefully a view of a Greater Prairie Chicken, then over to the Galveston area.

Happy weekend to you,
Me

Are You Experienced? Part 4

Dear Loyal Readers,

Today is the day for which you have been waiting your entire life, or at least for 2 days. Did they succeed in seeing the endangered Gunnison Sage-grouse? Or did they fail spectacularly, as with the infamous and despised Brambling? And, more importantly, how can I see this fascinating bird?

Allow me to start with the last question first.

The Birding Experience, Ten Steps to Seeing the Gunnison Sage-Grouse 

1. Drive somewhere in the vicinity of Gunnison, Colorado. Unfortunately, it’s not called the “Las Vegas Sage-grouse” or “Someplace-I-Would-Actually-Plan-To-Visit Sage-grouse”. 
2. The morning of your viewing experience, rise at least 2-3 hours BEFORE dawn. So, if dawn is 6:30AM, plan on rising around 4AM.
3. Bundle up! You’ll be sitting still for 3-5 hours. Oh, and pack something to do that doesn’t require Internet access, as there ain’t no coverage out there in the boondocks.
4. There is a place where the grouse meet to dance and attract mates (refer to prior blog post for scientific details) with a parking area built by local volunteers. You must arrive at the parking area at least 1 hour before dawn. Arrive later and you risk scaring off the precious little darlings, ruining your experience, as well as the experience of everybody else who is following these same precise instructions on that day. You wouldn’t want to be Debbie Downer, would you?
5. After you arrive, roll down your windows and get comfy in your car. You will be sitting from the time you park until the birds decide they’ve done enough dancing and fly away. You could be here a while…
6. Shhh! Don’t make noise! Grouse be sensitive.
7. Brrr! It’s cold. Snuggle up in that extra blanket you brought, as you can’t run your car’s heater. Noise, remember?
8. Watch carefully. You’re looking for something that resembles a rock in the middle of the field, or a pebble on top the nearby ridge.
9. When/If they arrive, prop your scope on your car door and observe closely. If you’re lucky, you may even see them get down and dirty. If you’re not lucky, then at least enjoy the sunrise.
10. When the guide gives the OK, then you can leave your car to use the portable toilet or drive away. But not before then! So…there should probably be step 3.5, Be sure to use the restroom before you leave your hotel! (but that would be step 11, so I left it out)

So, did we see them? Yes! We got reasonably close looks at one, and saw three others in the distance. But, unfortunately they didn’t boogie.

But, SHOULD we see them? They’re endangered after all, and human activity disrupts them. Would YOU go see them?

That, Loyal Reader, is up to you to decide.

But, at least you now know what you’re getting into.

Adios,
Me

The People You Meet, Part 1

Dear mis pequeños girasoles,

Greetings from South Park! We're in Fairplay, CO, which is in the heart of South Park in which the TV show is set.

The town does kind of resemble what's in the show, and they play it up a bit:

And, after meeting a few people, I see where Trey and Matt got their inspiration. For instance...

Two nights ago, we went to dinner at Mason's High Country BBQ, a place that looks a bit run-down from the outside, but the food was tremendous.

During dinner, one of the owners came out to chat. She asked where we were from, and hearing that we were in town for hiking and looking at birds, she asked curiously, "So are you doing that bird thing they made a movie about?"

We looked at each other, shocked. How would she have guessed that? The author of "The Big Year" book and one of the participants was from Colorado, so maybe there had been some local publicity about it?

When we said Yes, she got very excited. "Lady, I'm going to help you!" she declared. (Wait, why does the wife get help? She's better than me at this.)

First, she went to the shelf of stones and crystals near the door (she sells crystals on the side, as well as practices reiki, declared her business card), and selected a small stone, a citrine. She presented it to my wife, saying "Lady, this is for success!" (I thought about saying, "she's no lady, she's my wife" but thought better of it).

Then, Ms. BBQ-Owner went behind the counter, and from a shelf hidden below, produced a large metal prayer bowl.

"Lady, now I'm going to raise the vibration of the stone for extra luck." She placed the stone in the bowl, and tapped the edge of the bowl with a small baton. The bowl rang like a bell, as she closed her eyes and concentrated. After a few seconds, she stopped the ringing and withdrew the stone.

"Here you go, lady," she said, handing my wife the stone. "Now you're sure to find your birds!"

She then called a friend, and asked if it would be OK if we stopped by her house in the morning to watch her feeders. Getting consent, she wrote down her friend's address and wished us good luck again.

The next morning, a clear, crisp 14F morning with a dusting of snow powder from the night before, we did go to her friend's house. Sure enough, we found a new bird for the year, a Brown-capped Rosy-finch, along with several Evening Grosbeaks and Cassin's Finches! But, we were missing two other Rosy-finches, including the somewhat rare Black Rosy-finch. So, off to Silverthorne, a 35-mile drive north. Not too far for a life bird, right?

But, getting to Silverthorne required crossing a Hoosier Pass, a 12,000-foot "low point" just before Breckenridge. And, as we climbed, the temperature started to drop and the snow started to fall. Slowing to a crawl, with 4-wheel drive activated, we gingerly crept up and then down the mountain, with snowplows racing past.

Arriving safely in Silverthorne, we re-read the recent Rosy-finch report. "Found in the Wildernest neighborhood" was all the guidance it offered. And, it turns out that Wildernest is a large place, as we drove around in circles for 30 minutes on steep, snowy roads without seeing any birds.

About to give up, we spied a flock of small birds overhead! We followed them, as they landed on a driveway and mobbed the sunflower seeds the owner had scattered. Could these be our guys?

Sure enough, after several episodes of the birds spooking and scattering due to an unseen enemy, we finally found our target on the home's roof, playing in the snow:

Black Rosy-finch on the far right, Brown-capped on the left.

There must have been some magic in that old citrine stone she found...

And now, off to find the endangered Gunnison's Sage-grouse!

With gusto,
Me

Do You Know the Way to Studio 54?

As the sun contemplated how to rise over the horizon, Gus woke.

As the sun chose a path, Gus pondered. Was this the day? Was this his time? Could he? Should he?

As the sun elbowed its way over the horizon, she giggled. And, Gus called out.

"Hey, Gene."

"What?"

"Do you think I can do it? Do I have the moves?"

"Moves like Jagger? No. Moves like Tippi the Turtle? Yes"

"Ouch, that hurts"

"Hey, man, I don't make stuff up. I just speak the truth"

Gus fell silent, deliberating. Then swiftly, he made his choice.

And he let loose:



And the sun giggled.

As for Becky?

Not impressed.

And so, this is how Gus the Greater Sage-grouse found himself back in the gym, working out tirelessly to perfect the moves that would cause Becky to have no choice BUT to fall for him.