Listing Through Life

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.

After a week of cold weather, I was anxious to get outside and bird on Saturday. I checked the rare bird reports, and there really wasn’t anything worth chasing. When I went to bed on Friday, I had no idea where I’d head in the morning or if I’d just stay home.

But in the morning, I decided to go out and find a rarity of my own — something for other birders to chase. This is a constant wish by all birders, but it rarely happens. That’s why they’re called rarities.

I headed down to Lake Pueblo State Park and parked by Valco Ponds. I walked to the nearest pond and found it, not frozen over like I expected, but filled with ducks. A lot of times when I find a lot of ducks, I scan to see what species are there but just make wild estimates of the numbers for my eBird checklist. But I wasn’t in a hurry this day, so I took my time. I picked one species and did a slow scan from one end of the pond to the next, counting individuals. Then I picked another species and did the same thing. I’d been there about 10 minutes when I spotted a Eurasian Wigeon. I had my rarity.

Now, as rarities go, it wasn’t spectacular. A Eurasian Wigeon had been seen on that same pond in December — I’d seen it there myself. Chances are very good that this was the same bird. But it hadn’t been seen in a couple months, and it’s still a rare bird. That’s it on the left, chasing a female American Wigeon. (The two birds in the foreground are a pair of Hooded Mergansers.)

I took a slow stroll around the other ponds and, an hour or so after I spotted the wigeon, I submitted my Valco Ponds checklist on eBird. Then I headed up the river. I saw a Merlin, which kept flying ahead of me and never let me get close enough for a good photo. I also saw my first-of-the-year Northern Shrike. Later in the day, about half a mile away, I saw a Loggerhead Shrike, making this the first time that I’ve seen both shrikes in the same day. Here are some other photos from the day.

The bird in the right foreground is a female Redhead. The birds on the left and right are a pair of American Wigeons. The red bird in the middle is a Cinnamon Teal, also my first of the year and a little bit early for the species.

American Coot

Northern Pintail

Buffleheads

Red-breasted Merganser (chasing a female)

Two large flocks of Snow Geese flew over headed northwest. I estimated 400 birds, about a dozen of which were of the blue phase — like the top bird in the second photo.

American Kestrel

Immature Northern Shrike

Immature Cooper’s Hawk

Bald Eagle

Wilson’s Snipe

In all, I walked more than seven miles, and it was early afternoon when I got back near where I’d parked my car. On the bridge over the river, I met Brandon Percival, one of the top-notch birders in Colorado and a very nice guy. I’ve run into him several times — often enough that we recognize each other. As soon as he saw me, he said, “Thanks for the wigeon.” He was with another birder, and they’d come to see the duck because of my checklist.

When I got to the pond, there were five or six other birders there to see the bird. Here’s what the Colorado rare bird report looked like later that day.

And later that day, Brandon sent this out on the Colorado Birds report.

Over the weekend, many birders went to see it. So even though it wasn’t ultra-exciting, I did find a rarity.

Today wasn’t rare because of the number of species I saw (24), the number of lifers I found (0), or even the rarity of the birds I saw (although some of them are pretty rare in Colorado). It was rare because I saw all of the target birds I was hoping to see.

A couple weeks ago, I drove to the community of Alice, high up in the mountains north of Idaho Springs. I saw all three species of Rosy-Finch, which was nice. But I missed Pine Grosbeaks and Cassin’s Finches, which were being seen there regularly. Both species have continued to be seen, so I made another trip.

Cassin’s Finch (two males and then a female). There were six or seven that came and went.

Pine Grosbeak (two photos of a male and two of a female). I only saw the one male, and he didn’t stick around long. I think I saw three females, but I’m not sure.

(A Brown-capped Rosy-Finch in the background)

Brown-capped Rosy-Finch

Clark’s Nutcracker

Brown Creeper

Mountain Chickadee

From there, I drove to Standley Lake in Westminster to look for two Tundra Swans that were seen yesterday. I drove into the park and discovered a fee station. When I expressed surprise, the woman in the booth told me I could park for free just up the road and walk into the park. And so I did. After a long walk through snow and mud and more mud, I got to the lake and discovered the swans sleeping on the ice about half a mile away. With the light behind them. I thought I could get a better view from the other side of the lake, so I drove several miles and hiked a couple more through more snow and mud and more mud, only to find that I could get no closer from that side — maybe not even as close — although the light was better.

OK, confession. I normally wouldn’t count these, because, although I’m pretty sure they’re swans and not bags of laundry, I certainly can’t tell whether they’re Tundra or Trumpeter Swans from this distance. But I did see some close-up photos of these very birds taken yesterday, so I know what they are, and I did walk through a great deal of mud to see them, and that ought to count for something. I’d never count them for a lifer, but for a year list, why not?

In spite of all the mud-walking, I still hadn’t gotten in my five miles, so on the way home, I stopped at Bear Creek Trail in Lakewood to look for a Pacific Wren that I missed a couple weeks ago. I was standing by the log jam where it’s been seen so frequently when I saw two women with binoculars walk with determination down a nearby path along the creek. They acted like they had a destination in mind, so I followed and came upon one of the women actually looking at the wren. It was in the brush in the woods, about 30 yards from the creek, foraging rapidly through the sticks. The three of us watched it for about 20 minutes, waiting patiently for good photos, and our patience paid off.

The Pacific Wren looks very like a Winter wren, but with warmer brown tones. I’m familiar with Winter Wrens from Illinois, and this bird definitely had more red-brown coloring. The two species used to be considered one species — in fact, when I saw my first Pacific Wren in Oregon, it was still a Winter Wren. This is actually the second Pacific Wren I’ve seen in Colorado, but it’s my first photo of the species.

And yes, this isn’t a bird. But it is the tamest Black-tailed Prairie Dog I’ve ever seen. I took this photo while standing on the other side of a post and rail fence, not six feet away.

turdus (a thrush) rufopalliatus (from rufus rufous and palliatus mantled)

Cortez, Colorado — Denny Lake Park

Monday, February 7, 2022 — 3:27 pm

The Rufous-backed Robin is a close relative of the American Robin. Its normal range is central Mexico, but it’s been known to wander into southern California, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas upon occasion. It had never been reported as far north as Colorado — until January 18 when one was discovered at Denny Lake Park in Cortez, in the extreme southwestern corner of the state.

Cortez is a long way from home, and I had covid at the time, so I could only watch the eBird reports and wish. But the bird stuck around day after day — longer even than my virus — and since I’m now retired and fancy-free, I decided to go for it. But then I had to wait another four days for a snowstorm to rumble through and the roads to clear.

The couple who found the bird live locally and head to the park pretty much every day. They saw it on Sunday, so I knew it was still around. I headed west on Monday and was prepared to stay overnight in Cortez and look again on Tuesday morning if I struck.

I left home at 6:30 AM and drove down, arriving shortly after 1:00. Denny Lake is man-made, about four acres in size, and is bordered here and there by clumps of Russian olive trees. The robin has been eating the olives.

There were no other birders around, and I wasn’t sure where people normally saw the bird. I wandered up and down the shore without seeing robins of any sort. I did remember one report that mentioned a “periwinkle” house, so that’s where I concentrated my efforts until another birder showed up.

He was a local birder named Eric who had been coming daily to check on the bird. He said he knew its habits well, and escorted me around the area, pointing out all the places the robin has been seen over the past 20 days. We didn’t find it, and I was beginning to get that feeling — the one I get when I show up to see a rare bird a day after it was last seen. But Eric told me not to get discouraged. He was confident it was around somewhere.

There was a clump of olive trees at the far north end of the lake where the bird has been spotted once or twice during the three weeks it’s been at Denny Lake. We wandered up there and were approaching the final olive tree when a robin-like bird flushed up from the ground under the tree and landed in a tangle of branches. I didn’t have a great view, but I could see it was the Rufous-backed Robin. My camera did not want to focus on the bird — it was convinced I wanted pictures of tree branches. This was the best shot I got before the bird flew down out of sight.

Five minutes later, Eric found it again, and this time it was more cooperative. It flew up into the higher branches of the same tree and foraged for olives for maybe five minutes, moving from branch to branch. I spent the time trying for a better photo. Here’s what I got.

In several of the photos on eBird, the robin is standing on one leg. I wondered if it was injured, but apparently, this is just something it does — like in the photo below.

Perhaps 15 minutes after I first saw it, it flew out of the tree across the lake toward the periwinkle house. I had my bird and my photos, so I decided not to chase it again. I shook Eric’s hand and thanked him for his help. He was beaming. I think he enjoyed helping me find it as much as I enjoyed seeing it. He was also oddly excited that he could add Rufous-backed Robin to his “birds seen pooping” list. I don’t have one of those.

The Rufous-backed Robin has a similar shape and feel as an American Robin but is a little bit smaller and trimmer. Its head, nape, wings, and tail are slate gray. Its breast, at least on the bird I saw, was a paler orange than that of an American Robin. The back was a rich rufous. The eye, bill, and legs are orange. The white throat is streaked with black, but this didn’t really stand out to me on the bird I saw. You can see it a bit in a couple of the photos, but it’s not as noticeable as in the field guide pictures.

Here is my search pattern. We finally found the bird at the upper right — that clump of blue was me walking back and forth looking for an angle for a good photo. (The periwinkle house is under the “E” in “Lakeside.” I knew you were wondering.)

A photo of Denny Lake, although I took the picture before I saw the bird and didn’t pan as far to the north (left) as the olive tree where I saw it.

It was almost four by this time and still light out. I didn’t want to spend six hours in a hotel in Cortez, so I headed back east and ended up driving all the way home. I arrived shortly after 10:00 after having driven 736 miles in 13 hours, interrupted by four food/gas stops and a two-and-a-half-hour search for a bird. Silly, yes. But fun.

UPDATE: Eric and I were apparently the last people to see this bird. It couldn’t be found later on Monday or on Tuesday or Wednesday. This isn’t really an accomplishment, but it does make an interesting addition to the story of my 13-hour drive. It’s just that birders get a lot of credit for finding rare birds, but I got none whatsoever for losing one.