In Place
Written on 4/5/2024
There are times when I do not have to go far to find what it is I am seeking. This holds true with birds as well. During a biggest year, where I am trying to break a personal record, I have traveled thousands of miles in an attempt to find species of birds that have later been showing up within a short distance from my home. At times this can feel frustrating, or as if I am being wasteful in my pursuits. It can be comedic too. I have occasionally felt like I am a man frantically searching for glasses that are on the top of my head. However I look at it, this is a year where it sometimes seems like the birds are searching me out, and not the other way around.
It started in early January, when I made a two hour drive to Salt Lake City to find a pair of Greater White Fronted Geese that had spent a few weeks with a larger group of Canada Geese. The mixed flock had all been feeding on the lush grasses of a baseball outfield. I had not seen Greater White-Fronted for a number of years, and figured I would get few chances during 2024. At the time, I felt like this was the only sure shot I would have.
I drove up and over the mountain on a bluebird day. I pulled up to the complex of fields where the geese had been reported, and spotted what I was looking for moments after I put my truck in park. This flock was nearly tame, not straying too far from the spots where the snow was thin enough for them to feed. Birders had been watching the Greater White-fronted Geese for weeks, and it seemed as if they were not too camera shy by the time I got there.
On February 22nd, I didn’t have plans to bird far from home since the next day I’d be taking a lengthy trip. It had been warm, so I drove to Knight Ideal Pond, a nearby spot that I frequent. It was a gamble that early in the year, but I wanted to see if the ice was beginning to give way. When I got there, a large flock of geese was congregated on the north end of the pond near where I had parked. There was a goose that stood out with its thick pinkish-orange bill, and a white front. I had spent an entire day traveling to see Greater White-fronted Geese in Salt Lake City, when I would later see one six miles away from my home.
The day after seeing the Greater White-fronted Goose in Carbon County, I drove to Delta, Utah for the annual Snow Goose Festival. This venture took seven hours round-trip. The Snow Geese congregate in the thousands on and around Gunnison Bend Reservoir in Delta, and I knew that this would be one of the the most certain sightings during my biggest year. At the time, I thought the drive was worth it. On that trip, I added three species of geese to my year list: Snow, Ross’s and Cackling. I spent about 30 minutes birding the area before turning around and driving home, so I could make it back through Spanish Fork Canyon before dark.
My biggest year is not constrained by any geographical boundaries, so I have been exploring hotspots near my home. In 2022 and 2023, I was doing Carbon County big years, so nearly all of the birding I did was within the confines of my home county. Desert Lake, a sizable oasis is just over the border, in Emery County, and is only 17 miles away from my house. I have been spending a lot of time there in 2024. I am typically the only person around. I love to set my scope up in a blind on a hillside that overlooks a series of wetlands that surround the main lake. One pond is ringed by phragmites, cattails and bulrush, and can only be viewed from my hilltop vantage point. I feel like a voyeur, looking down on the secret lives of ducks.
The week after driving out to Delta, Snow and Cackling Geese were still migrating through the state in large numbers, and I found them at Desert Lake. I picked six cacklers out of a flock of hundreds of Canada Geese. There were nine Snow Geese standing on a causeway that raises up like a scar between two large bodies of water. These were two more species that I hardly had to drive for, although I wouldn’t have Ross’s Goose on my list without the trip to Gunnison Bend Reservoir.
Last weekend I visited my parents in Salt Lake City. I stayed in their guest bedroom on Thursday night, and wanted to do some birding along the Wasatch Front the next morning before returning home. At first, my plan was to drive to Henefer, Utah, to see Sage Grouse on a locally-famous lek, where the males strut their stuff, and puff out air sacs in their chests that look like garish party balloons. This ritual takes place early in the morning, so I would have needed to leave my parents’ house around 5 am. I hadn’t seen my parents since Christmas, and we stayed up late watching episodes of All Creatures Great and Small, and catching up. I knew I wouldn’t be able to claw my way out of bed early enough for a 5 am departure, so just before going to sleep, I changed my plans for the following morning, and decided to go to the Great Salt Lake instead. There was a Long-tailed Duck (considerably rare) hanging out along the Antelope Island State Park causeway, and I assumed that this would be one of the only chances I would have to get that species this year. I would need to travel to a sage grouse lek later on.
I foolishly did not bring my scope on the trip, and only had my 8x pair of binoculars. I spent hours searching the deeper waters along the causeway, but all the ducks were so far out, and backlit by a golden spring sun, that all I could see were dark, duck-shaped silhouettes on the water. I left Antelope Island without spotting the Long-tailed Duck, but did add eight other year birds, so I felt it was worth it. I’d much rather see all the common birds versus frustratingly searching for single rarities anyway.
Yesterday I woke up early for a big day of birding. I was driving to Scofield Reservoir to look for Common Loons, and Wilson’s Snipe. Loons are passing through now, and haunting our large bodies of water with their eerie calls. I had already penciled in Wilson’s Snipe on my June agenda, when I would visit a wet farm field outside of Capitol Reef National Park. However, in doing a biggest year, I have found that it’s nice to see species earlier than expected, which will free up time later on.
The drive to Scofield traverses multiple habitat types. Starting out in piñon/juniper forest outside of Helper, Utah, the road quickly climbs into ponderosa pines. After gaining even more elevation, it straightens out into a flat area that is dominated by high sage. After turning off the main highway towards the reservoir, I saw a large bird picking through the gravel on the shoulder of the road. Even flying by it at 55 miles per hour, I could tell it was a grouse. I pressed my brakes hard, and found a pullout around 100 yards past the bird. I got out, and looked through my binoculars, seeing the black belly that is diagnostic on a Greater Sage Grouse.
The bird was so close to the road, and I worried for its safety. Semis use this route to get to coal mining operations beyond the reservoir. Since Greater Sage Grouse populations are in peril, and should be listed through the Endangered Species Act, I thought it would be best to wait for a clearing, and intentionally flush the bird off the highway. I could hear the static of an approaching car. As it passed, the grouse got spooked, and walked to the edge of the pavement. I knew I had to get the bird away from the road before the next car came, so I briskly walked towards it, photographing as I went. It flushed as I approached, and flew into a vast sagebrush expanse, well out of danger.
I entered the grouse into an eBird.org checklist and it was flagged as rare, likely because there isn’t much suitable sage habitat in Utah County. This sighting helped me cut out six hours of driving to a lek further north, and I did not feel so bad about sleeping in the previous weekend after spending quality time with my parents.
Scofield was still mostly frozen, but at the south end, water was starting to nibble at the edge of the ice, opening up two separate, small areas where ducks were packed thickly in. Since these spots were shallow, they couldn’t support large diving birds like loons. Along the shore, there was a single Wilson’s Snipe, probing the mud with its long bill.
There wasn’t much birding that could be done at Scofield, so after spending less than an hour there, I felt that I had seen everything, and I drove back home. I took a nap when I returned.
After waking up, I pulled up my email and saw an alert that there was a Long-tailed Duck at Huntington Reservoir, just 19 miles south of me. I was groggy, but I packed my birding gear, and my dog Everett into the car, and hit the road. I made sure to bring my scope this time.
As we were driving, I felt the wind pick up to a fierce gust that pushed my car around the highway. I realized that this meant bad news for birding at the reservoir. When I got there, I could see the waves that the wind was creating. White caps two feet high were rocking the lake, and a misty spray was lifted into the air. I pointed my scope towards a dark spot on top of the water, that I assumed was a raft of ducks. They were surfing up and down, getting pounded by waves. The viewing conditions were too poor to identify anything far out. I looked closer, and saw some very large birds near me. I put my scope on them, and saw the black checkered backs, the dagger-sharp upturned bills, and the white necklace of breeding Common Loons. The loons were actively diving, their bodies powerful enough to overcome the turbulent water.
The sun would be setting soon, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to pick out a diminutive Long-tailed Duck in these conditions. I looked at the next morning’s weather, and saw that it would be windy again starting at 10 AM. I packed everything up, and headed back home so I could get to bed and return early to the reservoir.
Today I woke up and got ready according to the schedule I had set last night. I wanted to leave the house at 8:30, so I could get to Huntington Reservoir by 9:00, and have an hour to look before the viewing conditions became poor again. As I drove through the south end of Price, I saw that an American flag was slapping in the wind. The rabbitbrush at the edge of town was bowing down as if in prayer. I knew that this was a bad sign. As I got closer to my destination, though, I noticed that the wind was actually slowing, and the roadside vegetation was only slightly swaying in a moderate breeze. When I pulled into the state park, the water was mostly still.
The Long-tailed Duck was one of the first birds I saw on the lake. It was taking lengthy dives underwater, and coming up very far away from where it went down. It became a game to re-find it after it dove. After the fourth or fifth descent into the depths of the lake, I was unable to relocate the bird. I scanned the entire reservoir, counting 21 common loons, and the wind started to pick up 45 minutes before the weather app predicted it. When it began to get miserable, and the viewing was again impeded by frothing water, I packed up and left.
It’s early in my biggest year, but so far, many of the species I’ve been chasing all over the state have been coming to me. I don’t want to get spiritual and say that the birds are teaching me something, because I don’t believe that there is some design behind all of this. I am internalizing a lesson, however.
I have seen 145 species this year in my quest for 300. The underlying goal has never been the number, it has always been about learning more about birds than I ever have in a 12 month period. What these birds are teaching me is that I can stay closer to home, and that many of the them will come to me. I am learning much more about bird distribution and migration pattens in the eastern portion of Utah. I will have much more time to appreciate and study the birds here, if I am not spending as much time in my car. I can accomplish the learning part of the goal within a 30 mile radius. I certainly won’t get 300 without traveling, but the number has never been the main point anyway.
I am not giving up on the listing portion of the goal, I’ll keep going since I’ve come this far. I guess what the birds are teaching me is that listing doesn’t equal learning. The learning part of my goal can happen wherever I do or don’t go. It turns out that I do not have to go far to find what it is I have been seeking.
That's a great count of 145 so far Carl - considering it's only mid-April. Hopefully you get a lot of migratory birds over Spring, Summer, and Autumn to help towards 300. Nice move to flush that Greater Sage Grouse as well to keep them out of the dangers of the roadway.