Our destination? Rocky Mountain National Park, specifically the Alpine Visitor Center. Located about 25 miles west of Estes Park, the visitor center is at nearly 12,000’ elevation and is close to a trail where the Ptarmigan had been reported lately.
The beginning of the trip on Thursday boded poorly. Flight delays on both legs of the journey and a missed connection meant we arrived at the hotel at midnight instead of 6pm. We had to wrap up some projects the next morning so didn't get out of the hotel until noon, and then I nearly broke a toe walking to lunch. Fort Collins City Planners, why would you put a 4” high planter box in the middle of the sidewalk and not paint it something visible? So, both Thursday and Friday were devoid of birds.
Saturday, we arrived at the visitor’s center at 9am when it opened, interviewed rangers about where to look, then were off to trailhead just down the hill.
The trail had a few ups and downs and was only a half-mile long, so it didn't look challenging. Except, there is literally no oxygen at that elevation. A match won’t stay lit, there’s so little oxygen. For reals.
So as we gasped along, we paused frequently to suck down as much air and scenery as we could. Ptarmigan Pterritory was very beautiful, in a way. The mountain slope was blanketed with tundra, a treeless biome consisting of low and thick mats of grass, moss, lichen, and other small plants no more than a few inches tall. We counted at least a dozen varieties of tiny wildflowers, in blues, yellows, and oranges. The plants were interspersed with small granite rocks and outcroppings, and a few marmots watched us curiously from the boulders while we wandered about.
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| An example of tundra. Note the lack of shrubs or trees. Oh, and some Bighorn Sheep. |
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| A cute, chubby little marmot on the lookout. |
Well, let me tell you this about that.
The day was sunny, but W-I-N-D-Y. Wind speed at the visitor center gusted up to 25mph, but the trail area was windier and became progressively worse as the day wore on. And this wind was cold; it was a bully of a wind, the kind that slaps you in the face until you cry, then whips the tear off your face before it even reaches your eyes.
And, about ptarmigan: because there is no cover for them to shelter in, they have to hide in plain sight. They can sit motionless for hours, and in the summer, their feathers are camouflaged to look like rocks:
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| From Flickr user Bryant Olsen, You can see the similarity between the rocks and the ptarmigan. No offense intended, Mr. P |
We returned to our car around noon for lunch, then out to the end again. As we hunted, we found plenty of ptarmigan feathers… maybe they were all eaten? How many feathers would we need to find to recreate a ptarmigan and thus be able to count it?
Back to the car for a break, then when the winds died down at 4pm , we gave the birds another shot. Note that I do not literally mean we attempted to shoot the birds, although I would have considered it at that point. I was already imagining t-shirts with slogans like, “Ptarmigan: it’s what’s for dinner” and “Ptarmigans are Ptasty”
Another 90 minutes, and nothing. So, down the mountain we went, disheveled and dismayed.
The next morning, we tried again, this time arriving at 730a. (early bird, etc, etc)
We were joined by several other birders, and also two prairie falcons swooping about. At first, this was dismaying (the falcons, not the other birders, although all of us became more depressed as the morning wore on). We were concerned they (again, the falcons) would scare the birds into remaining even more motionless. Then an idea struck me: there were 3 chicks, so if the falcon gets one, then that would give away the location and we could see the other two! I know, grim, right?
Around 9am, everybody else had given up, and we wandered back to the Visitor’s center for another consult with the rangers. We needed more details after 9 hours of searching and finding nothing…where were they seen along the trail? What time? Upslope of the trail? Downslope? What if the wind was really blowing? The ranger’s response… “Um…I’ve just seen them all over the place.” OK, thanks?
Now, we came all the way here for a ptarmigan, so we were not leaving without a damn ptarmigan. Back to the trail!
As we marched down the so, so, so familiar path, we ran into a couple we had seen earlier, hiking up from somewhere lower on the hill. (Note to Rangers: Everybody saw the signs instructing people to stay on the trails. In no way did anybody looking for a ptarmigan ever veer from the trail. Certainly not. No matter how this account makes it sound.)
“Well, we hiked all through the lower area and didn't see anything. Do with that what you will.”
They looked and sounded like competent birders, so we decided to trust them and focus on the upper area for our fifth trip out.
I was almost to the end when The Wife came into view, running down the slope as best one can when the slope is covered with ankle-catching plants and toe-stubbing rocks.
“I think I hear something!”
We gently trudged up the steep mountainside, our ears peeled. We hiked left. We hiked right. Then left again. Then, I heard something, too. To my ears, it was like… Squabbling? Arguing? Annoyance?
Scanning the rocky field below us, I saw them! At least three birds, jumping on each other and cackling as they worked through their disagreement.
Can you find the birds in this scene? (click to enlarge if you wish)
Stumped? Here's a closer look:
Victory!
The rest of the weekend consisted of driving around Colorado, chasing reports of Buff-breasted Sandpiper and other rarities. We struck out, but the jubilation of tracking down the ptarmigan made up for it. And, we got upgraded to First Class on the way home. Double Yay!
So, we have about 72 hours at home, and then we're off to our next destinations: St. Louis and then Boston. Frequent flier miles galore!
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