I went birding on Saturday. I had it in the back of my mind that, if I saw 14 new birds for the year, I’d reach 100 on my 2018 list by the end of January. It didn’t happen.I saw nine, but it was still a good day.
I drove down to Lake Pueblo State Park where I’d seen the Snowy Owl a couple weeks ago. It hadn’t been reported in a couple days, but there was others stuff around. I got out of my car on the ridge above the marina and was immediately distracted by a flock of small birds in a bare tree next to the lot. Closer inspection revealed them to be mostly Mountain Bluebirds, at least 40 of them. There were Pine Siskins, House Finches, and a Townsend’s Solitaire thrown in.
They were obviously most interested in a couple juniper bushes closer to the water, so I grabbed my camera and walked slowly in that direction. The flock got used to my presence pretty quickly, and I was able to get close enough for some good shots.
That’s Pikes Peak in the background, about 35 miles north.
I quit taking photos with my camera at this point, but I’m not sure why because I saw some other cool birds. I drove west out of the state park into the state wildlife area where I saw a Loggerhead Shrike, a Red-necked Grebe, and a raft of Eared Grebes.
I headed back toward Colorado Springs and pulled off just north of the El Paso County line. Some southern birds have been seen regularly along a stretch of road on the extreme southern edge of the county. I drove back and forth for about an hour. I missed the Greater Roadrunner that’s been spotted there, but I did see a Ladder-backed Woodpecker and a pair of Curve-billed Thrashers. The woodpecker seemed way out of place in the cholla flats at least a mile from the nearest tree. The thrashers felt more at home, but that’s the first time I’ve seen that species since 1984 in Arizona.
Clockwise from upper left: Loggerhead Shrike at Lake Pueblo SWA; Coyote; Longhorn; and Curve-billed Thrasher all from Hanover/Meridian Road area.
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A friend had sung the praises of Schmitdt’s German restaurant in German village. We drove straight there after picking up our rental Toyota Rav-4. It wasn’t 5:00 p.m. yet, but the place was busy. We had a half hour wait, part of which we spent in the fudge store across the road.
My wife ordered weinersnitchel, I ordered breaded pork. Both were OK, but the sides are what we really liked — spatzle, potato pancakes, and the cream puff we split for dessert.
On Sunday morning, I did an hour of birding in a cemetery and small wetlands park along the Olentangy River. I saw some of my old friends that don’t show up in Colorado — cardinal, Carolina Chickadee, Carolina Wren, mockingbird, Red-bellied Woodpecker. It had snowed in Ohio a day or two previously. Sunday was warm and overcast, and everything was damp.
We spent the afternoon in Springfield at the Heart of Ohio Antique Mall. We bought some old toys, and I bought a Toledo Torch — a kerosene roadside torch used in the 1930’s. As I was paying for it I wondered if I could take it on the airplane. Just in case, I took it to a UPS store in the morning and mailed it to myself.
When we got back to Columbus, I drove downtown to see some new deer statues along the Scioto River.
It was harder than you might imagine to prop up my phone to take this next photo. That’s why, as you might have noticed, I’m only wearing one shoe.
A second deer nearby was supposed to look like it was reclining in the grass, but I thought it just looked like it had slipped in the mud.
A third deer sat nearby on the steps of a museum.
I used a snowball for a tripod to get this shot.
The World’s Largest Gavel sat between two law buildings on the other side of the river.
For lunch on Monday we went to Skyline Chili, of course, and to Krema Nut Company. We got to the airport two hours before our flight. My wife sat in an alcove at one end of the terminal while I walked around to get some exercise. When I got back, she was standing. I asked her why, and she just grinned at me. That’s when I noticed the roof was leaking right above when she had been sitting. Our flight out of Columbus took off in the rain, but we soon got above the clouds.
The clouds were breaking up over Chicago as we flew north over Lake Michigan.
We landed at Midway for a layover of about an hour. That was long enough to buy a box of Nuts on Clark caramel/cheese corn mix which we polished off on the flight back to Denver.
It was weird being in Chicago and not being able to go “home.” We had to keep reminding ourselves that we didn’t live there anymore. But it sure felt like home.
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On Tuesday, when I was up by Denver looking at the Yellow-billed Loon, I wasn’t in Pueblo looking at a Snowy Owl that had been hanging out near the marina in Lake Pueblo State Park. On Sunday after church, I drove down. There were a lot of people there, drawn by the owl.
I parked on the rise overlooking the marina and asked a woman where it was being seen. She told me I could see it from there. I set up my scope and took a look. I then let her and her husband look through my scope as thanks for pointing out the bird. Apparently this was a pass for everybody in the area because they soon lined up to look through my scope, even though I’d only gotten a brief glimpse of the owl myself. I was gracious and allowed this to go on for a little while until some lady kicked the tripod and knocked the owl out of the picture. I took that opportunity to grab my stuff and go.
Several other people were out on the marina dock, so I walked out there. Turns out the owl was only visible by looking through and around the railings of boats, and the view wasn’t much better than what I’d seen on the rise. Anyway, here are some shots I got by holding my phone up to my scope.
And here’s a shot of the same owl taken by someone with an actual camera.
As I was walking back toward my car, I passed the woman who had originally showed me the owl. She said, “You’re going to be very popular.” I looked where she was pointing and saw a large crowd staring at the owl through binoculars. I decided I’d seen enough.
I drove down below the dam and found a bunch of people looking for the Prairie Warbler that’s been hanging around there for about a month. I saw it in late December. Nobody had seen it since early morning. I relaxed and looked at what else there was to see. All the birders cleared out. I walked down closer to the river and soon spotted the warbler.
Again, here are some photos of the same bird taken by people with actual cameras.
I drove to some other areas of the park, but didn’t see much. I was heading back on the road below the dam when a guy in an SUV came roaring up behind me. He came up very close to my bumper and was making gestures of frustration at the fact that I was only going five mph OVER the speed limit. We went through a passing zone. There were no cars coming in the other direction, so I pulled way to the side of my lane and slowed down a bit for him to pass. Instead, he got up even closer behind me and made some more gestures. I was passing the ticket station and saw a guy dressed in brown. I don’t know what made me think it was a park ranger, but something did. I slowed down to the exact speed limit — 25 mph along that stretch. The guy in the SUV was fit to explode. He was inches from my bumper. I kept watching in my mirror to see if he would do something more stupid than he was already doing, or even dangerous. Through the cab of his truck I suddenly spotted flashing lights. It was about 39 seconds before the jerk noticed. He pulled over. I kept going. The last I saw of him was when he was stopped along the road, and the ranger was getting out of his car. This made me happy.
It’s not just that we thought the Wild West Show at the National Western Stock Show might be reminiscent of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, it was actually billed that way.
And I know that entertainment 120 years ago didn’t always live up to its billing. But that was some billing. And that show featured the real Buffalo Bill and Annie Oakley and Sitting Bull.
Here’s the cover of the program I bought for our show. (It cost me $1 for a single piece of paper, folded in half.) The driver is seconds away from falling asleep and his shotgun rider is gone.
Here’s the inside of the program.
As we waited for the show to begin, we watched a light show of sorts — because nothing screams wild west like florescent polka-dots.
And then the show began. Some old fat guy with a gray beard and a buckskin coat ambled into the center of the arena and spoke through a mic that was hidden in a megaphone.
The stagecoach came out and did a lap.
Three women on horseback rode out with flags, and we sang the “National Anthem.” A fifth of the way through the program, and already, absolutely nothing had happened. In the background of my videos, you can hear the announcer with his “howdy pardner” accent. He kept saying “Thank you, friends.”
Next up was a guy whose horse only went in tiny circles. I guess this came in handy if he was out alone in the desert when Indians attacked. He could circle his wagons all by himself.
Four women walked out with ropes. Two of them set their ropes on fire and spun them over their heads. I’m not sure this is a skill. The rest of the act wasn’t much more impressive.
Then came the first of two performances of the Indian dancers. The announcers kept referring to them as “fancy dancers.” I hope the Indians have a more impressive name for them.
Next came a troop of Cossacks — because there were a lot of them running around the West. They managed to pull off about 60% of the tricks they tried in slap-dash fashion. But I promise you, in this video, you’ll be much more entertained by what happens with the three horses standing in the foreground. Trust me.
Two women came out on horseback, portraying Annie Oakley and Lillian Smith who were supposedly fierce rivals as tricks-shooters in Buffalo Bill’s shows. Here, they rode down a row of traffic cones and popped balloons with BB’s I guess. They certainly couldn’t have been using bullets.
Next was an odd act — three guys making their horses take tiny steps and a bunch of kids who decided just moments before to try out the lasso for the first time. At least that’s what it looked like. The act was all called “Charros.” Keep your eyes on the kid in the white shirt in the front. And try not to notice the “above the belt” area of the guy in the dark coat to his right.
There was a lady who got a horse to do tricks even though it wasn’t wearing any harness. The tricks included exciting things like sitting down and walking around her.
We then heard a long, silly tale about a woman named Lucille Mulhall who, back in Buffalo Bill’s day, claimed she could ride a bucking horse. So they put her on a bucking horse and she rode it. Yes, folks. To demonstrate the thrill of this moment, two cowboys rode out with a third horse between them. A woman walked out and got on the middle horse. The cowboys let the horse go. It made a couple of bored hops, and then ran down one side of the arena. One of the cowboys rode after it and dragged the lady off the horse which wasn’t doing much of anything by this time. Without exaggeration, I could have done this “trick.”
Square Dance consisted of eight Mexican girls who square danced on horseback — to the Macarena. Since this song came out in 1993, this didn’t seem terrible authentic. Although the actual meaning of the song — about a woman who repeated cheats on her boyfriend as he’s being drafted into the army — does fit the “wild” part of Wild West Show.
The Fancy Dancers came out for another spin, this time with hoops. Then the one actually impressive act of the night — three young ladies who displayed trick riding.
This was followed by the world’s least-impressive cattle drive reenactment.
And then everyone came out to take a final bow. Even with all the performers in the arena at the same time, it seemed small-time.
Who knows, maybe the original wasn’t all that flashy either. Maybe that’s why it didn’t last. But it was better than this. This tribute was mostly just sad.
For 16 days every January, Denver hosts the National Western Stock Show. There are feature events — rodeos, concerts, mutton-busting — but there’s also the pure joy of walking around looking at the back end of cows. When I first found out about the stock show, I figured we’d want to spend a day there every year. Now I’m not so sure. For our first trip, we decided to see the Wild West Show, having recently seen the Buffalo Bill Museum in nearby Golden. It was scheduled for late afternoon, but we got there several hours earlier to see what else there was to see.
The “grounds” are squashed into an older industrial section of the city with parking lots and buildings scattered on either side of a railroad track, an interstate, and who knows what else. We arrived late in the morning to discover that all the the convenient parking lots were filled to capacity. The fine men and women who operated these lots had no better information to tell us than, “It’s full. I guess just keep going that way.” We crawled along in bumper-t0-bumper traffic for several blocks. We finally found a spot behind the Rocky Mountain Pipe Company. Even after we got into the lot, we had to wait another five minutes to park because a guy with a pickup bigger than he could handle insisted on backing into his space.
We walked across the lot, down a small berm, and through a hole in a fence. Somebody had placed a piece of iron plating over the chain link so it wasn’t terribly difficult to navigate, but after making it through the fence, we had to wend our way though a minefield of cement blocks and holes.
After a stroll through an uneven gravel lot, we filed through a gate that said, “No Public Access.”
We finally found our way to the stock yards where ranchers were fluffing up their cattle to make them look pretty.
And it was impressive. When they were done, the hide looked like velvet, and the beasts were spotless.
People were leading their cows back and forth down the aisles, so walking anywhere was a tricky affair, not just because of the cattle, but because of what they left behind. After wandering aimlessly for a while, I stopped at an information booth and asked, “We have tickets to the Wild West Show. Where do we need to go, and how do we get there?” The man pointed to a large building on the other side of the tracks and told me there was tunnel up ahead, just beyond the admission ticket booth. We found it, and a long line to buy tickets. The people operating the booth must have been hired specifically for their incompetence. The line crawled. In a half hour, we’d moved maybe 15 feet and we still had 50 feet to go. That’s when I noticed that our tickets to the show said, “Includes free grounds admission.” Oh.
We went through the tunnel and entered an area somewhat more organized than where we’d been. It was lunchtime, so we headed for the food court. We had cheeseburgers and bottles of pop, which weren’t bad, to our surprise, but expensive. We found a lovely spot nearby to enjoy a view of Denver while we ate.
We wandered the exhibition hall for a while, looking at the booths of western clothing and western furniture and cattle corrals. There really wasn’t much there for us, but I did buy a coonskin cap since I’d just watched the original Davy Crockett Disney movies the night before. The room was packed with people, and I had to exercise a tremendous amount of patience with those families who were completely and totally unaware of how anything they do (like spreading out side by side to fill the entire aisle and then stopping to discuss where the bathrooms are) affects those around them.
It was about this time that I began to worry that the time on our tickets for the Wild West Show was 4:00, but the daily schedule said 5:00.
We found an arena where owners were showing Hereford cattle and sat and watched for a while.
It wasn’t the most exciting show we’ve ever seen. I left my wife there and went hunting for answers. When I found the arena where the Wild West Show was to be held, I asked an usher about the time difference. He figured it out almost immediately. Do you see it?
Yes, I had brilliantly come on the wrong day. At this point, there was no way I was going home and coming back to fight that traffic and parking and crowd situation again. I asked the guy if there was a way we could slip in. He told me which entrance he’d be stationed at later, but warned me that he couldn’t guarantee us seats. At this point, that was fine.
I went back and found my wife. We strolled through the barns and saw colorful sheep.
And more cow-fluffers. Seriously, these guys were going at it with combs and polishes and precision razors, cutting off almost-invisible bits of hair. Like a spa day for a heifer.
Then we stumbled upon the best part of the day. In a nearly empty arena, we watched about an hour of a horse jumping competition.
I think this horse was actually the winner. Many of the contestants knocked down bars. A few refused to jump. One horse managed to get its rider over a jump without going over itself.
We had to leave the arena so they could seat for the Wild West Show. We stood in the lobby for half an hour, then went back in. I’ll cover the show in my next post. I’ll just say here that we stood on the concourse until the show began and then found perfectly suitable seats, so the whole wrong-day debacle wasn’t a disaster.
Afterwards, we went back through the tunnel, filed through the stock yards (in the dark, so we couldn’t see what we were stepping in this time), out through the “No Public Access” gate, over the fence on the piece of iron, and home.
There are plans underway to rebuild the entire area, with new buildings and stock yard and parking underneath. It’s all due to be completed in six years. We might not wait that long to go back. But then again, we might.
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