This morning’s excursion was a fun one. What started as a day when every bird I pointed my camera at immediately flew away ended with three successful chases. One successful chase is an occasion to celebrate—but three?
First was a flycatcher I heard near the lopped-of scrub oaks, the spot where I’ve spied Dusky Flycatchers multiple times already, and it sounded like a dusky, but it fluttered way down the slope before I could get a look. Still hear it, though, so I crept down a ways and finally spied it on the tip of a tree. Yahtzee!
Second was a Warbling Vireo. I’ve heard this species calling nearly every day down in the leafy gully where it had a nest last year, but I’ve not had a chance for a decent photo. This morning, it might’ve been a different bird, because it was singing up the slope a ways, in a lone maple tree. Assuming I’d not succeed, as usual, I nevertheless crept up the deer trails until, by damn, I spotted the singer. Clickclickclick! A bunch of photos.
Third, a Virginia’s Warbler. The song I heard sounded like it came from one, but I couldn’t be absolutely sure, so—again—I started up the slope (from where I’d seen the vireo) until I found a long view of it in a snag about a hundred feet away. A Virginia’s for sure. Click!
Three successful chases. (No dips!) On a lovely, mostly overcast morning.
[Note: this day was exceptional also in that I spied my first Wild Turkey in Utah. It was strolling across a residential street down in the neighborhood.]
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 7:55 a.m. (8:55 MDT), I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
I’ve probably bragged too much about still having good hearing for my age. But, truly, hearing the notes and sounds and music that birds make helps me find them, ID them, engage with them. I feel lucky, thankful, grateful. Of course having good, accurate sight also means better birding—and there are plenty of birders who have only one or the other. But today in particular, my ears did most of the grunt work.
For instance, eight of 18 species on my hike list (and one on my “elsewhere” list) are there only because I heard ’em. I identified a “confusing” flycatcher based on the little subtle sounds it made. And I managed to hear (and learn) a brand new bird song.
In the latter case, my distant photo of the bird helped also. Dog and I were up on the deer trail, when I heard what sounded like a Chipping Sparrow singing a unique song for the species: its trill started high, then fell down a notch, and ended with a brief third pitch. I spied the singer at the top of a distant juniper and snapped off a few pics just in case.
Later, based on the blurry photos, I looked up the song of the Brewer’s Sparrow—and, sure enough, that was the bird I’d heard.
It’s fun to bird by ear.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 7:37 a.m. (8:37 MDT), I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
Much unlike yesterday’s lowery overcast, this morning’s sky had no clouds in it, and the air carried quite a chill. Still fun to watch the doings of the wild bird life—especially, this morning, the Black-chinned Hummingbirds.
Broad-tails are also nesting around here somewhere, but it’s the black-chinneds that are zipping around everywhere above the scrubby surrounds. I’ve learned the peculiar hum their wings make as they zip by, as well as the fluty sounds those wings can emit when they’re doing their “U” display—zip up, pause zip down and up, pause, back and forth in the exaggerated shape of the alphabets twenty-first letter.
Today, I watched this display in minature, as a black-chinned made little declarative U’s in front of clump of sagebrush. I spied another hummer within the slump—rival? potential mate?—as the U-maker decided to perch for a bit.
That’s when I took this picture.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 7:11 a.m. (8:11 MDT), I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
