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
Within ten or fifteen minutes of hitting the trail this morning, I could tell last night brought fair migration winds. I say “fair” winds because of the good variety of species I spied early—Western Tanager, Western Wood-pewee, Yellow-rumped Warbler, and a few other species-in-a-hurry that I couldn’t ID. Has me psyched about the days to come.
Western Wood-pewee.
But the sweetest thing about my hike with dog this cool morning was the company of Black-capped Chickadees. What with the recent spate of western fires, a hurricane making landfall, and other dramatic climate events, it’d be easy to fall into a funk. But there they are, the chickadees, their optimistic-sounding voices as they check in with each other—voices so matter-of-fact and unworried that they attract other little silent species moving through the foliage.
One even flew within inches of my head today. I thought it might land on my hat, but it didn’t. Maybe someday.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 8:11 a.m., I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
1. Black-billed Magpie* (v) 2. House Finch* 3. Black-capped Chickadee** 4. Woodhouse’s Scrub-jay 5. Black-chinned Hummingbird 6. Blue-gray Gnatcatcher 7. Spotted Towhee 8. Northern Flicker** 9. Western Tanager 10. Downy Woodpecker 11. Sparrow (sp) 12. Western Wood-pewee 13. American Robin 14. Yellow-rumped Warbler 15. Lesser Goldfinch* 16. Broad-tailed Hummingbird 17. House Wren
Elsewhere
18. California Quail
Mammals
Red Squirrel (v)
(v) Voice only *Also elsewhere **Voice only elsewhere
Chilly, breezy morning. Sweatshirt weather again. But within a few minutes of beginning my hike with dog, I could tell it was gonna be a big day.
Bird after bird after bird. Species after species. A pair of Western Tanagers, an Olive-sided Warbler with a yellow jacket in its beak, two sparrow species, two warblers, three hummingbirds. I took nearly 900 photos. (Took a while to winnow them down to a couple hundred or so.)
And for the first time I heard the sweet calls of the wren—whose photo was the best of the bunch, I decided.
From four species Tuesday to 22 this morning. A fun day for sure.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 8:17 a.m., I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
