My first bird photo this morning was a blue image of a Song Sparrow singing from the weathervane atop a neighbor’s garage. This sparrow has hung around the bushy side yard since I moved here last summer—persisting through winter. It’s lived here a good while, I can tell.
Song Sparrows are one of several species Utah shares with Maine. Black-capped Chickadees are another. Both have different accents out here: the chickadees’ casual burbly notes are brighter and have a distinct inflection; the song sparrows’ phrasing sounds higher-pitched, the trills especially.
It’s comforting to awaken to the familiar voice of a Song Sparrow. It and the chickadee serve, to me, as proof that Nature transcends space and time.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 8 a.m., I hiked several hundred feet up a mountain.
On a mostly overcast morning, dog and I had a very nice hike. Coolish still (but this will change), and no others encountered on our trek up the switchback and around the hillsides.
MacGillivray’s Warbler.
The usual suspects, bird-wise—including two resident warblers singing dependably in their preferred locations: MacGillivray’s and black-throated gray. If birding scarcity increases value, warblers are precious here.
Maine’s wood-warblers got me birding in the first place exactly 40 years ago—I couldn’t resist their crazy spring music in the woodlands of northern New England. A couple dozen species pass through Maine during migration. Where I lived, maybe a dozen stick around.
Since I moved to the high desert last summer, I’ve encountered far fewer warbler species. Resident species in my patch number maybe a half-dozen. Still, the two I saw today were enough to whet my warbler whistle.
Later, this warm afternoon, as I worked at my front table, I saw a large, winged shadow pass across the lawn. Peeked out and spied a Red-tailed Hawk soaring in the warm air—and perhaps 1,000 feet above it, two or three paragliders.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 7:45 a.m., I hiked several hundred feet up a mountain.
They’re everywhere. Singing bright songs from high perches, zipping back and forth overhead, occasionally chasing each other. Making their presence known—or (in the case of females) usually lurking just out of sight.
I’m talking about Lazuli Buntings.
The species was my first lifer after I moved to Salt Lake City last August. I happened to see a male feeding a fledgling. There was no singing going on. For the most part, the birds were laying low. I thought they might be a little uncommon, maybe even rare jewels.
Turns out they’re abundant jewels—at least in these parts. And I gotta say I’m not too unhappy about it.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 7:45 a.m., I hiked several hundred feet up a mountain.
