Fall migration’s a bit understated here in the sagebrushy Utah foothills, from what I’ve observed. Still interesting—a warbler here, a sparrow there, a hawk flying over, some random bird—but not as exciting as on Monhegan Island, Maine, where a bunch of birder friends are hanging out just now.
Still, I like it. I like the challenge. I like the usual suspects, and I like the crazy random Mountain Chickadees that’ve lately come down from the heights. I even like whiffing on those few species I didn’t get a good look at.
These little critters are moving, moving, moving. Heading south for hundreds or thousands of miles, usually at night, then stopping off in the morning to stock up on energy, only to make a return trip a few months hence—often ending up in the exact same bush where they were hatched.
(Can you guess I kind of have a thing for fall migration?)
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 8:23 a.m., I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
1. House Finch** 2. Black-billed Magpie** 3. Yellow-rumped Warbler 4. Lesser Goldfinch* 5. Black-capped Chickadee 6. Woodhouse’s Scrub-jay 7. Red-breasted Nuthatch 8. Blue-gray Gnatcatcher 9. Pine Siskin 10. Spotted Towhee 11. Northern Flicker** 12. American Robin 13. Downy Woodpecker (v) 14. Western Tanager 15. Mountain Chickadee (v)
Elsewhere
16. European Starling
(v) Voice only *Also elsewhere **Voice only elsewhere
Got a whiff of smoke this morning on my hike with dog. A haze hovered over the basin. The fires in California are alarming, to say the least—as is the local drought. Thought we’d be getting some rain tomorrow, but apparently not. Going on two months without significant rain.
Perhaps that’s why things continue to be quiet up the foothills trails. Mostly the usual suspects this morning, bu also a couple of birds whose calls I didn’t recognize. One in particular—with a semi-harsh, semi-musical chip-note—flitted out of a juniper and showed itself to be warbler-sized with flashes of yellow. Tried to track it down but didn’t see it again. Another little chattery bird, too, I couldn’t sneak up on.
“Dips” in birding lingo usually mean you’ve heard of a rare or interesting sighting and go looking for it but fail to find it—i.e., you “dipped” on the bird. In my mind the same applies in the shorter term: you see or hear something curious but don’t end up getting a good look. Happens a lot.
But also, on occasion, you stumble onto a pretty great sighting without even trying. It all works out in the end, I suppose.
No smoky smell later in the day. I hope at least the West Coast gets a little rain.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 8:13 a.m., I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
Encountered another Rock Wren this morning—on a quiet but fun (they’re all fun) hike with dog—but this was the first I’ve seen that wasn’t in the little abandoned quarry atop the bluff. Far afield, in fact.
And it participated in the most serene moment of our excursion, in fact: I’d taken some photos of the wren when a hummingbird flew up and hovered a few seconds about two feet from my face. (“Well, hello, there,” I said.)
And after that we just stood there, Jack and I, in the presence (at a little distance) of a Rock Wren.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 8:16 a.m., I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
1. Woodhouse’s Scrub-jay 2. Black-capped Chickadee 3. Blue-gray Gnatcatcher 4. American Kestrel 5. Spotted Towhee 6. House Finch* 7. Broad-tailed Hummingbird 8. Rock Wren 9. Black-billed Magpie* 10. Northern Flicker
