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I questioned my sanity as I pulled off I-84 at
Ranch Exit 32 at 12:30 this afternoon. I've never heard that Whites Valley
is a birding hotspot in October. I was also arriving during the
hottest, lowest-bird activity time of the day. I had just driven up from
Willard Bay State Park where I didn't see a Phainopepla, but I did
see...hee-hee...a Ruffed Grouse, of all unexpected birds. I was in
for a few more surprises, indeed.
I hadn't seen one bird after a couple miles of
driving slowly and scanning all manner of perches. I finally spotted a
Red-tailed Hawk perched on a fencepost high up on a golden, rolling
hillside. As it turned out, the Red-tailed Hawk was my first and last
species today--did anybody else notice the major push of Red-tails along the
Wasatch this weekend? Between my first and last hawk, I saw 30 to 40
others. Later in the afternoon, I found them all over the place just south
of Hyrum in Cache Valley.
Back to Whites Valley, I was still a mile or two
shy of my destination when I stopped to walk through a roadside patch of
sagebrush. I hoped to rustle up a few Greater Sage Grouse. It
was hot, dry, and still--one of those afternoons when you can smell the dust in
the air. The silence was broken by a two-note, scolding "Ch-ch"
call. The call was familiar, but my mind refused to put the familiar
name of the bird and the call together. There was no way.
"Ch-ch...Ch-ch." I followed it through the sagebrush, until I got a little
peek at the Ruby-crowned Kinglet actively foraging low and scolding as it hopped
from bush to bush. Huh! I might not have believed it if I hadn't
seen it. I had just seen many RC Kinglets foraging and scolding at
Willard Bay. The sound was just so out of place in Whites Valley that I
had to chase it down to see the bird, instead of believe my ears.
I continued north and finally saw a few American
Magpies and Western Meadowlarks. Another surprise was in store for me
here. Five Mountain Bluebirds populated the barbed-wire fence.
They perched; upright, silent and big-eyed. A brilliant blue
male ground-sallied for insects and lifted his catch back to
the fenceline. I was to see a total of 13 Mountain Bluebirds in
Whites Valley this afternoon. In addition to the fenceline perch, I
also saw them perched on sagebrush and on abandoned farm equipment. I
haven't seen other reports of this particular species up there. It's
probably the right environment for the bird during migration, but for some
reason, seeing the brilliant blue such an arid place surprised
me.
As I made the first 90-degree left turn, a covey of
17 Gray Partridge ran out of the weeds along the road and scurried across a
field of sparse alfalfa. They stopped to crane their necks and get a good
look at me. The bloom of orange on their cheeks made them look
flushed, as if embarassed that I had found them in their hiding
place. They alternately ran and stopped to look back at the perceived
threat. Looking across the field at them, I was in for another
surprise.
An abandoned farm is tucked in the turn of the road
I mentioned above. A couple decrepit buildings, many pieces of rusty brown
equipment, falling fences and a truck or two complete the picture. One of
the buildings is a long-abandoned clapboard house. The white paint is so
flaked off and peeling that the gray weathered clapboards show through.
The windows must have lost their glass long ago. As I looked past the
alfalfa and the scurrying partridge, I could see a long, pale form--thick
at the top, slim at the bottom--perched on a peeling green window
sash. It was a Barn Owl.
I raised my binocs toward the window and saw
double-decker birds. The Barn Owl perched on the middle of the sash
and a magpie perched below the owl on the window sill. Other magpies
peered down from the eave. The owl faced into the house, but occasionally
turned its heart-shaped, Chinaman face toward the outside. Its tawny wings
and back looked as if they were sprinkled with cracked peppercorns. Its
wings drooped a bit, to reveal that the wing tips were significantly longer
than the perfectly notched tail. The owl's long and drooping primary
projection reminded me, oddly enough, of a hummingbird's.
The owl flew out of the window twice and landed on
the ground, briefly out of sight. It came up empty-taloned both
times. On its second return a passing American Kestrel took notice and
veered in toward the green sash, screeching, "Killee! Killee!
Killee!". The owl paid no attention. Eventually, it flew inside the
house. I repositioned my scope so I could see down the long driveway into
an open window. The owl was perched inside the room on top a door that was
ajar. It saw me and bobbed its head from side-to-side,
Egyptian-like. I doubt this daylight owl considered me as nice a
surprise as I did the owl.
The owl sighting represented my last surprise at
Whites Valley. However, I still saw a few more nice birdy things. I
parked at the final "No Trespassing" sign about 1/2 mile south of the double
silos. Here I found two Sharp-tailed Grouse and more Mountain
Bluebirds. I watched a first-year Golden Eagle soar in higher and higher
circles. A Northern Harrier matched the eagle circle for circle. The
harrier was finally close enough to mount its attack and it caused the eagle to
flinch from the perfect circle pattern several times. The interaction of
the two raptors looked like a fighter aircraft intercepting a bomber.
The eagle finally set its wings and beelined away, and the harrier descended to
more familiar altitudes.
Whites Valley provided a serendipitous birding
day. Whoda thunk I'd see a Ruby-crowned Kinglet in sagebrush, 13 Mountain
Bluebirds, and a Barn Owl perched on a window sash in broad daylight? And
of course, there was also that Ruffed Grouse at Willard Bay, 35 or so Red-tailed
Hawks...and I haven't even begun to describe all the terrific "expected"
birds. I guess I'll save all that for some other time.
Kris
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