Nemesis—Part 2

Ruffed Grouse, taken on 9/18/2024 on a Forest Service Road outside of Paradise, Montana.

Many good stories end when a protagonist overcomes their nemesis. In the case of a nemesis bird, there is no vanquishing to be done, it only involves seeing the species after years of searching. I began birding 18 years ago, and have been looking for Ruffed Grouse ever since. I finally saw one while on a mid-September visit to northwestern Montana.

On September 17th, Alex and I traveled to the CSKT Bison Range, where we had been looking for grouse on the auto loop that goes up and over Red Sleep Mountain. She had seen them there before, which got my hopes up. She pointed out where she spotted the birds running across the road, and drove slowly through that stretch of forest as I scanned the hillside. We spent a nice afternoon watching bears, bison, deer, and many good birds, but missed the species that had been evading me my entire birding life. Halfway through the drive, the day turned soggy, and my enthusiasm had become dampened.

The next morning, we sat around drinking nice coffee, and planning out our day. After a longer trip to the bison range, we both thought that it would be better to bird a little closer to her house. She had to be back home for a meeting later that afternoon. She asked if I’d like to drive up a nearby Forest Service road, which I had been on once before, and I thought that sounded like a good time. We relaxed the morning away, and left around lunchtime. When planning this excursion, I had completely forgotten about my search for Ruffed Grouse.

The road we were driving is just south of Quinn’s Hot Springs Resort, between the towns of Paradise, and St. Regis, Montana. We took an eastward turn off the highway, and followed a well-maintained gravel road that can be driven in most vehicles when snow-free. The route follows a thin thread of a creek, and runs through dense Montana forest. Thick mats of moss hung off the tree branches, which made them look like arms cloaked in a loose-fitting knitted sweater. We drove with the windows rolled down, so the scents of flowing mountain water and pine trees could enhance our moods.

Just after pulling onto the road, we saw a tight flock of small birds traveling from tree to tree. We stopped, and after a bit of pishing, saw that they were Chestnut-backed Chickadees. This is a species I have only seen three times in my life, and it was my first sighting of them in 2024. Their calls are more nasal than the Black-capped Chickadees I’m used to here in Utah, and unlike the species I’m familiar with, these birds wear a rich mahogany saddle.

Farther up the road, we saw another flock of tiny birds that were flying together. We stopped, and pished again. There were more Chestnut-backed Chickadees, and also a Ruby-crowned and Golden-crowned Kinglet mixed in. Golden-crowned Kinglet was my second year bird in only a half mile of road. Not bad.

Alex continued to drive slowly. We were the only car up there. The only human-caused sounds were the grinding of gravel under our tires, and the occasional ping of a rock ricocheting off the wheel wells. A breeze whispered through the forest with pine on its breath. I looked ahead of the car, and saw a dark mass on the shoulder of the road. “Is that a rock, or a grouse?” I asked Alex. She stopped the car. I looked through my binoculars, and saw a sleeping brown bird that was hunched into itself. It was shaped like a miniature football, with a distinct crest. It was the first Ruffed Grouse I had seen in my life.

We watched the grouse for around 10 minutes or so. Both of us were alternating between taking photos (mine didn’t turn out great), and looking through binoculars. Alex then shifted the car into drive, and began to creep up on the sleeping bird while I took more pictures with each revolution of the wheels. When we got too close, the grouse’s neck shot straight up, and it casually walked off the side of the road, down a hillside, and disappeared into tangled underbrush.

It was getting later in the day, and it was time to head back for Alex’s meeting. We had seen the grouse at the perfect time, just before we turned around to head home.

On the drive out, Alex was talking about Northern Saw-whet Owls, and how she would love to see one (well, there was also a fantasy about one flying in her car and coming home with her as a pet). Just after this conversation, I saw another flock of small birds flitting around a larger bird at the top of a pine snag. I asked if we had time to look. Alex stopped the car, and I saw a group of agitated Red-breasted Nuthatches and Chestnut-backed Chickadees. I had to angle my binoculars to see what the larger bird was. It wasn’t a saw-whet owl that she had wished for, but a Northern Pygmy-owl perched at the top of the tree. Nuthatches, chickadees, and kinglets often mob small owls, so if you see a flock of agitated birds, it’s always a good idea to see what’s angering them.

Alex put the car in park and got out to take photos. I stayed farther back and looked through my binoculars. It appeared as if the owl had some prey clutched in its talons, perhaps a small bird that was taken from the flock that was now trying to exact revenge by dive bombing the predator. Finally, the owl had enough, and flew off out of view. We got back in the car, and returned to the highway, getting home just in time for Alex to start her meeting.

Throughout our short drive, I ended up seeing four new birds on the year (Chestnut-backed Chickadee, Golden-crowned Kinglet, Ruffed Grouse, and Northern Pygmy-owl), but none of them were as important to me as the species that had eluded me for over 18 years of birding. There is no longer a bird that I can think of that I would consider a nemesis, at least not in the West. I finally got it. Often with nemesis birds, once you see one, you start seeing the species more frequently. I’ll continue to look for Ruffed Grouse, but none of the sightings will be as special as the one I waited 18 years for.