Highlights from Recent Reading

Johnnie (who fell dead at his desk a few years later) was a laconic guy whose method of complimenting me on a piece of writing was to say, “You got a constipation of ideas and a diarrhea of words.”

from Low Man on a Totem Pole, by H. Allen Smith

__________

About the grammar in this book. It is, without question, atrocious. Grammar is a thing I never learned and like most other human beings, I have nothing but contempt for anything I don’t know. I play the typewriter strictly by ear and when the tune sounds all right to me I’m satisfied with it.

from Life in a Putty Knife Factory, by H. Allen Smith

__________

I began parting my name on the side at an early age when I first started getting by-lines on newspapers. Ever since, I have been accused by many drunks and a few moderate drinkers of being affected and vain — a charge which I deny by citing that I neither say eyether or nyether. It was almost essential that I decorate up my Smith name with something fancy at the end. I can agree that when a man named Archibald F. Throcklepidgeon begins calling himself A. Fieldstone Throcklepidgeon, he might be motivated by affectation and vanity; but when a Smith decorates himself up front he has reason and justice on his side. If he goes around calling himself Joe Smith or Jim Smith or Harry Smith he’s likely to run into embarrassments. As it is, half the time when I’m introduced to someone merely as “Mr. Smith” the party of the second part always says, “What’s your real name?” A Smith without a feather in his nomenclatural cap generally has one hell of a time getting a check cashed, and the way those hotel clerks look at you when you register as man and wife!

from Life in a Putty Knife Factory, by H. Allen Smith

__________

“If I ever get rich,” he told me that afternoon of the long talk, “I’m going to buy a yacht and call it the Great White Also. When I was in elementary school, back in Ithaca, I came upon a line in my geography which said,

The Arctic is inhabited by the brown bear, the black bear, and the great white also.

“It worried me. At home I asked about the Great White Also. The family let me go on believing that a Great White Also was some horrible, child-eating beast, and whenever I misbehaved they used to tell me that the Great White Also would get me.”

from Life in a Putty Knife Factory, by H. Allen Smith

__________

Hitchin is a small town of roughly 30,000 souls on the River Hiz. Although the locals now pronounce this as “His,” the letter z was once a contraction of the dental sibilant “tch” sound and so the real name is, phonetically, “Hitch.” (This is rather like the “y” in “Ye Olde Worlde Pub.” Fifteenth century printers, such as Caxton, did not have the Anglo-Saxon letter “thorn — which looked like a lower-case b and p imposed upon one another and sounds like the “th” in, well, “thorn— so they replaced it with a “y.” “Ye” was always meant to be pronounced “the.”

from Three Men in a Float, by Dan Kieran

__________

The election of Abraham Lincoln threw the whole South into a ferment; everywhere men looked into the faces of their fellows and asked what must be done, for truth demand that it be told that the fearful alternative of secession had not suggested itself to the minds of thousands. The convention of border States seemed to promise much, and Arkansas fully expected to be represented there. Conservative men were in favor of trying every thing save the fearful remedy of separation. On the other hand, the advantages of direct trade, the greater security of slave property, the boundless wealth of the South when released from dependence on the North were insisted upon, and when it was intimated that peaceable secession was impossible, it only produced a laugh of scorn; the idea of Northern mechanics, brought up in workshops, unskilled in horsemanship and the use of fire-arms, endeavoring to cope successfully with those accustomed to the saddle and the use of the rifle from childhood, was not to be mentioned or heard with gravity. The latter class, however, were at first largely in the minority; men who by honorable industry had acquired a competency, and even wealth, thriving mechanics, rising pubic men, prosperous merchants, and well-to-do farmers were fearful of a change which at best would not bring increased prosperity, and might bring ruin. But men largely indebted at the North, to whom a severance might bring an easy release; planters nominally wealthy, but really bankrupt; broken-down politicians, and such men only as had nothing to lose, whom nothing but a revolution or a rebellion could bring to the surface and give a bad prominence, were in favor of following in the path in which South Carolina had led.

The proof of this is found in the fact that most of the seceding States were hurried out of the Union without even the semblance of the forms of law: Missouri, by the famous Pineville Convention, and Arkansas by a convention of which two-thirds of the members were elected by the votes of Union men — our county, Washington, with the largest voting population in the State, sending the whole delegation, four in number, by a Union vote of from nineteen hundred to twenty-one hundred, out of a voting population of twenty-five hundred, or a majority of from four or five to one. Indeed, this body at its first meeting rejected the ordinance of secession by a two -thirds vote; but on being called together again, under the influence of threats, promises, false telegraphic dispatches, false charges against the Government, and all the appliances which traitors know so well how to use, the fatal measure was carried, and the State hurried into the whirlpool of treason and ruin. …

Thousands, it is true, were indignant at the act of the Convention, but the fact that the treasury and arsenal were in the hands of the secessionists, that the power of the Confederacy was pledged to maintain the position the State was forced unjustly to assume and the significant fact that Arkansas regiments were sent east of the Mississippi, and Texas and Louisiana troops brought into Arkansas, prevented any open resistance on the part of the loyal men of the State. When an individual or a people have determined upon a false step, a plea of justification is never wanting; hence the election of Mr. Lincoln was made the pretext for charging upon the North all manner of intended injustice to the South. Abolition, coercion, negro equality, subjugation became watchwords with the favorers of secession; and when any one ventured to urge that it was unjust to charge upon Mr. Lincoln a policy that he had not yet indicated, that it would be better to wait for his acts instead of condemning him in advance, the charge of Black Republicanism was the usual retort.

Indeed, so well was the public mind prepared on these matters that, when the President’s inaugural was issued, in the eyes of many it contained the obnoxious sentiments above-mentioned; which fact a circumstance, which occurred on the day that it was telegraphed to us, will illustrate. Just after leaving the telegraph office I stepped into a store, where I found quite an excited party discussing the policy presumed to be set forth in the Inaugural; among them was a State Senator from one of the rural districts, who, addressing me, said he supposed “that I was now satisfied, from the President’s own words, that he was a favorer of negro equality.” To which I replied, “that I did not so read it.” “What!” exclaimed he, “does he not quote the language of the Constitution that all men are created equal?” In answer to this, I said: “The Constitution contains no such language as that which you have attributed to the President”; which caused a look of astonishment from the bystanders who were of his way of thinking, and regarded him as an oracle, on political matters at least; he then repeated his assertion, upon which I remarked that the language quoted by the President was to be found in the Declaration of Independence. “Well,” said he, “it is all the same thing.” “With this difference,” said I; “that the Constitution has the force of a law, while the other is a declaration of rights, and has no binding force whatever.” As there was no reasonable reply possible to this, he began to indulge in a style of remark in which wounded pride and personal spleen were so mingled that I felt that further reply was not only useless, but might also prove injurious; but from that time I knew that the evil eye was upon me.

Soon after the assault upon Sumter I encountered, in the telegraph office, a physician, a man of some influence, then engaged in raising a military company. He charged the North with plunging us into a war destined to produce untold suffering; when I remarked that the South could not justly blame the North for the war, since she had provoked it by striking the first blow, and that we could no more expect the North to submit to such an insult than we could bear a similar one ourselves. On this he flamed out in language most bitter and threatening, intimating that such sentiments would no longer be tolerated, but that popular violence would be employed against those who took the liberty of expressing such views; and this, in the existing state of public feeling, the very worst elements ready for an explosion the moment a spark fell or direction was given to the popular rage, was by no means an idle threat, or to be lightly regarded.

from Pea Ridge and Prairie Grove, by William Baxter (1864) This was a long quote, but I thought it gave a very different perspective on the Civil War and also showed that there is nothing new under the sun.

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Chico Basin Ranch

My goal this Thursday was to see, for the first time ever, 100 species of birds in the month of March. I started the day with 95. Someone spotted Mountain Plovers in the prairie dog village on Hanover Road, and Chico Basin Ranch is only about five miles from there and seemed like a good place to reach my goal.

Another couple had already pulled off the road and was scanning for the plovers. We spent about 10 minutes scanning the far reaches of the large prairie dog village when the guy spotted the plovers on the south side of the road, opposite from where they are usually seen. They were actually copulating when we first saw them, one standing placidly on the other’s back for a couple minutes with little motion and no discernible enthusiasm. Perhaps it was part of the courtship and not the actual act? I don’t know, and they weren’t saying. I got a quick photo by holding my phone up to my scope.

I also saw a lone Burrowing Owl standing still on a mound far off in the prairie, and several Common Grackles in a tree near a feeder in Hanover. So I was up to 98 birds by the time I entered Chico Basin.

The pond by headquarters was packed with ducks. It would have been a great place to take a new birder because there were 16 different species, with decent numbers of most of them.

Blue-winged Teal

Northern Pintail pair

A Great Horned Owl that allowed me to walk directly underneath it.

A very vocal Greater Yellowlegs.

Sage Thrashers

Ladder-backed Woodpecker male actively digging a new hole in a Cottonwood

Song Sparrow at Fountain Creek

Pair of Cinnamon Teal

I made a quick stop at the Double-Tree Hotel pond to see a Black Phoebe and ended up with 53 species on the day and 104 on my March list. I’ve also seen 135 species on my year list, the most I’ve ever seen through March 31 except for 2020 when I spent a week in Florida in January.

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Bird #569 — Slaty-backed Gull

larus (ravenous seabird) schistisagus (slate cloak)

Larimer County, Colorado — Kyger Open Space

Thursday, March 24, 2022 — 11:58 am

On Sunday, when I was on the way home from Kansas, a Slaty-backed Gull was found at a state park near Loveland, Colorado. I found out about it that night when it showed up on rare-bird reports. I thought about driving up Monday to see it, but Monday was rainy and windy. I decided to wait for better weather and see if the gull stuck around. The weather on Tuesday was worse, and most people who looked for the gull didn’t find it. Nobody found it on Wednesday, when the winds were 70 mph at times. Thursday was forecast to be a pleasant day, but the gull hadn’t been reported in a couple days, and four hours of driving for nothing didn’t sound exciting.

Instead, I headed down to Fountain Creek and wandered about. After a couple hours, I decided to complete my five miles of walking and then head home. How quickly things change. I checked the Colorado birding group and saw that the Slaty-backed Gull had been refound at a lake in an open space about six miles from where it was originally seen. I was two hours away, with the entire Colorado Springs and Denver metropolitan areas between me and it. But it was a lifer, and lifers are hard to come by these days. I headed north, curbing my urge to rush madly by repeating the mantra “It’s worth trying for, but not worth dying for.” I’m not sure where I came up with that, but I didn’t die, so it worked.

The Slaty-backed Gull isn’t just any lifer. It’s an Asian species that breeds along the east coast of that continent from Siberia down through Japan. It’s uncommon along the Alaskan coast and rare elsewhere in North America. This is only the fourth or fifth time one has been seen in Colorado. So this was likely my only chance to see one.

On the other hand, it’s a gull, my least-favorite category of bird. All gulls are very similar, with difference between species coming down to the amount of black on a particular feather or two, the color of the ring around the eye, or some similar obscure point. Which wouldn’t be bad except that they’re often at scope distance and packed in close together in huge flocks so that it’s hard to see an entire bird, much less see the details of plumage. My strategy, which I employed to perfection today, is to let someone else pick through them and find the good ones, then look where they’re pointing. I’m guessing I would have missed the Slaty-backed Gull if I had come upon the flock by myself without prior warning that something rare was hiding in plain sight.

When I was half a mile away from the reservoir, I could already see a couple birders with scopes staring out at the lake, which was a good sign. I parked and walked as close to the water as I was allowed to get, which was probably 150 yards from the mud bar where 200 or so gulls were sleeping (visible on the right in this photo). The two birders (one of whom was the guy who first found the gull on Sunday) assured me the target bird was still around.

The Slaty-backed Gull was sleeping when I spotted it. It was larger than the Ring-billed Gulls that surrounded it, with a darker mantle. (That’s a Herring Gull on the left in the photo below, picking at its feet.) In addition, I could see that the Slaty-backed Gull had a blocky-shaped head and a dark smudge through its eye (a key mark). It also showed a lot of white on the wing coverts. Two similarly sized and colored Lesser-Black-backed Gulls were also in the flock. They were sleeping in the same position as the Slaty-backed, but showed almost no white on wing coverts.

After perhaps 15 minutes, a hawk scared up the gulls. They all took off, drifted in the wind for maybe 30 seconds, then settled back down. The Slaty-backed landed on the far side of the island and stood just long enough for me to get one photo (below). I could see that the legs were a rather vivid pink and that it had a pinkish-red spot on its bill. When it took off, I could also see its wing pattern — a broad white trailing edge and a limited amount of black feathers near the tip — but I didn’t get a photo.

The gull then sat back down, tucked its head, and didn’t move for 25 minutes or so. The two birders soon left, but others came. I heard at least two of them joke that they’d be sleeping too if they’d traveled all the way from Siberia.  We spent the time scoping the rest of the reservoir and comparing what we saw. Finally, the Slaty-backed Gull stood up.

It acted a little indecisive — a few steps here, a few steps there, then walked slowly down to the edge of the island, swam about 40 feet out into the lake, then turned around and swam back.

When it got to shallow water, it did a little preening and splashing. I was taking a video and managed to catch the few moments when it spread its wings. These next four shots are stills from the video. They’re fuzzy, but clear enough to show the limited black on the underwing and the “string of pearls” effect of the white spots near the tips of the wings.

The gull stood in shallow water and looked around and did a little more preening.

This is the best shot I got of the pink legs, the eye smudge, and the yellow bill with the pinkish spot. The Slaty-backed Gull is also described as “pot-bellied,” and that shows up in these photos.

While it was still standing in the water, the gull tucked its head again. I decided I’d seen what I needed to see, so I left. I saw on later reports that the bird left about 20 minutes after I did and wasn’t seen again at that location again on Thursday. It was found in subsequent days back at the original lake and at one other location. But from what I hear, it was a lot closer to the viewers where I saw it, and the weather was a lot better.

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Bird #568 — Lesser Prairie-Chicken

Tympanuchus (from tympanon, kettle drum, and echein, to have) pallidicinctus (from pallidus, pale, and cinctus, belted, encircled — probably in reference to the barred feathers)

Logan County, Kansas — Smoky Valley Ranch

Sunday, March 20, 2022 — 6:20 am

Lesser Prairie-Chickens can be found in Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, and Colorado, although their numbers are dwindling and most (70%, probably) live in four counties in western Kansas. There are two ways to see them. Either drive a whole lot of back roads and hope to a lucky quick view of a running or flying bird — or — visit a lek when the males are performing their courtship dances. Most, if not all, the leks are on private or protected property, so the way to see a lek is to sign up for a tour. Which is what I did — or tried to do.

I signed up for a tour in 2020, but I managed to pick a date right when everything shut down for Covid. I inquired about a tour in 2021, but was informed that the only available tours were for groups, not individuals, and the groups didn’t want anybody along who wasn’t part of their group, again because of Covid. This year, finally, I managed to sign up for the last spot on an open tour.

I drove to Oakley, Kansas on Saturday, birding and exploring on the way. On Sunday morning at 5:50 (4:50 Colorado time), Jim Millensifer, the tour leader, picked me up at my hotel. It turned out that three others on the tour had stayed at the same hotel.  Jim drove us south through the morning darkness, then headed west on a dirt road. He opened a gate beyond which was a rutted track. Another mile brought us to an old horse trailer parked in the middle of nowhere. Jim unlocked the door and let us in, then left us. He had to go back to the gate to pick up four other birders who had followed us in a car.

The four of us stranded in the trailer laughed at our situation. We had been picked up by a total stranger, driven to who-knows-where, told to get in an old trailer, and then abandoned. It felt like a scene from a horror movie.

Jim and others did return, and we all sat on a long bench that ran the length of the trailer. It was a chilly morning, around 45° with a bit of a breeze, but it could have been a lot worse. We stared into the darkness and waited and listened. Jim had told us we would hear the birds before we’d see them. We heard several Horned Larks and some distant Coyotes and Ring-necked Pheasants. A beautiful male Pronghorn wandered by, coming within about 30 yards of the trailer before hearing or smelling us and taking off.

After about 20 minutes, we heard the prairie-chickens. The Lesser-Prairie chicken gives off a variety of gurgles and squawks as it dances, but the main call, when the males puff out their air sacs, is a short burbling. They expand their sacs and make the noise, they stomp their feet, they strut around, and they make little flutter-jumps — all to impress the ladies.

We had a bonus on the tour. Jim told us a Greater Prairie-Chicken had been joining the Lessers on the lek. This wasn’t a lifer for me — I’d seen a hen and chick run across a highway in Minnesota back in 1991 — but that was a long time ago and, of course, I didn’t get any photos.

Moments after the Lessers began calling, Jim pointed out the sound of the Greater. Although the birds look and dance very much alike, they sound very different. The Greater’s call, as it’s puffing out its air sacs, sounds like somebody blowing across the neck of an empty bottle. You can hear both species in the video, and the difference is obvious.

By this time, we began to see the birds. For the next hour, we sat spellbound as 9 male Lessers and 1 male Greater strutted their stuff. For much of the time, they were performing without an audience (apart from us), but two female Lessers showed up after a while and wandered around ignoring the males.

After about an hour, Jim made sure we’d all seen what we wanted to see and had gotten the photos we wanted to get. He took the first group back to the gate. As they exited the trailer, the prairie-chickens all took off. Before he got back, four or five of them had returned. As we left the trailer, three Lessers froze in place, not moving a feather.

Since the Lesser Prairie-Chicken was the lifer, I’ll start with photos of them. (I’m not going to post my photos in the order I took them. The bluer ones were taken before sunrise.)

Male Lesser

Two male Lessers

A male Lesser with a female in the background. The air sacs on the Lessers have a reddish-pink tinge. The sacs on the Greater are more orange/yellow. The barring on the belly of the Lesser is thinner, almost disappearing in the center of the belly. Lessers are also slightly smaller than Greaters, but this isn’t easily noticeable.

Two photos of a female Lesser with a male in the background. The pinnae on the neck of the female are much shorter than on the male. Those are the feathers that look like ears when the males raise them up.

A male Lesser

A female Lesser

Another shot of a male Lesser being ignored by a female

The Greater set up shop right in the middle of the lek, closest to the trailer, and defended his territory with vigor. Apart from the actual field marks, we could identify the Greater because he was missing a tail feather. Jim said there was one Greater on this lek last year that was also missing a feather, and he’s positive its the same bird. Greater and Lesser Prairie-Chicken ranges only overlap in a very small area in this part of Kansas. They occasionally hybridize. This guy didn’t act like he was aware he was in the wrong lek.

The male Greater in one of his few moments of repose. You can see the darker, thicker barring on his belly.

Most of my attempts at capturing the flutter-hops came out too blurry to post, but I got lucky with this one of the Greater.

It seemed like the territorial dance stage of the Greater and one of the Lessers was marked by a dried cow pie. The two birds were constantly facing off on either side of it. Most of the time, the confrontation consisted of both birds crouching down and staring at each other. Occasionally they would jump around and flap their wings. I never saw actually physical fighting like I did with the Greater Sage-Grouse last spring. The Greater is on the right in this photo.

The Greater is on the right. A Lesser male is on the left. And a Lesser female is between them, ignoring both. Typical.

Again the Greater is in front, with three Lesser behind.

Two shots of them flying when Jim and the first group left the trailer.

In this one, you can see how the Greater (right) is darker than the Lessers.

Here’s the view of most of the lek. The Prairie-Chickens appear as small dots in the middle-distance. They were as close as 20 yards from the trailer.

A Horned Lark showed up just as we were leaving.

And the trailer. Jim is closing the door on the right.

On the drive back to the hotel, Jim told us that the Lesser Prairie-Chicken might be classified as endangered next year. If it is, nobody would be allowed to get as close to a lek as we did today. It would be more like the experience I had viewing the endangered Gunnison Sage-Grouse four years ago — where the lek was half a mile away and the birds were little dots. That would not have been nearly as enjoyable. Covid almost messed this experience up for me, but it turned out to be thoroughly enjoyable.

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Rough-legs and Ring-necks

On my drive to Kansas to see Prairie-Chickens, I saw dozens of Rough-legged Hawks — more than even Red-tailed Hawks. At times, I saw several within a couple minutes of each other. I was surprised there were so many around, especially this late in the spring.

Male in Lincoln County, Colorado

Dark phase in Logan County, Kansas. This was a stunningly beautiful bird.

Female south of Oakley, Kansas

On our drive back to the hotel after seeing the Prairie-Chickens, we spotted several Ring-necked Pheasants in the fields. I realized I’d never gotten a photo of one, so after I was dropped off, I drove down into the croplands and soon came upon a cock and two hens. The cock headed out into the field away from me.

But one of the hens actually came closer to hide in the grass along the road. After I took the first photo, she headed back into the field, but stopped long enough for me to get some photos.

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