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That spring moon--did anyone else see the moon this
morning, at about 6:30? It's one day short of full, and on a clear night
like we just had, it was brilliant, glistening; breathtaking. As I drove
north past Willard Bay the moon descended toward the Promontories and its
white-gold brilliance reflected in a broad, glittering swath across the
bay. It was a wonderful start for a day of desert beauty, but the best
view of the moon was yet to come.
I headed to Box Elder County early this
morning to do some Golden Spike birding. I also planned to check
for the Snow Geese in Corinne again, but I was pretty sure I would
make them disappear like I did last weekend by just making plans to try to
see them. Those silly geese were caught off-guard when I arrived much
earlier than they expected me. They hadn't yet made their dawn escape over
to the North Bay of Bear River MBR.
By 6:45 a.m. the sky was a deep gray-blue and
cast light of the same color over the emerald fields of Corinne. I
found the flock of Snow Geese just where Lu Giddings reported previously--on
6800W about 1 1/2 miles south of UT 83. I guestimated that about 700 birds
rested in a long, ragged line across the field. They were too far away to
determine if other species, like Ross's Geese, were present. But they were not too far away for me to absorb the spectacle
that the geese and the waning night presented. Due west of the geese
and by then low over the Promontory Mountains, the moon hung, huge and
blond. The geese seemed to waddle toward it and I watched them,
the smoky blue mountains, and the moon in my telescope at the same
time. As the moon made its descent it seemed to grow even
larger and became a bright citrus color. It developed a ragged
edge. And then it melded with the highest ridge and inexorably sank,
sank, sank...out of sight. I felt a little melancholy because I was
alone and no one else had seen the mix of snow-white geese, green fields, smoky
blue mountains and sky, and that huge, descending, glittering orb.
I passed by Salt Creek WMA briefly and noted many
dabblers, Great Blue Herons, American Avocets, and what I believe was a
first-year Black-crowned Night Heron at the edge of one of the
impoundments. The only big white birds present were American White
Pelicans. Many of those same species were represented at the open water
along UT 83 at mile marker 11. I also noticed many species--Canada Geese,
Northern Shovelers, Cinnamon Teal, Mallards, Green-winged Teal--seem to have
selected nest sites.
After turning off UT 83 onto Golden Spike Drive, I
swept the field to the north of the road looking for those little brown blobs,
Burrowing Owls. I saw brown blobs for sure, but they turned into 17 widely
spaced Long-billed Curlews, 3 Willets, and approximately 17,832 cow pies.
I approached Golden Spike NHS via Promontory
Road and the Last Cut. At the Last Cut historical marker, that mocker of
the desert--the buffy and gray Rock Wren, greeted me with a
"Tik-keer! Tik-keer!" The bird was a welcome sight as
it busied itself in every crack and sang from every orange lichen-encrusted
rock down in the railroad bed. The big
Chukar coveys of winter have fragmented and now all the Chukars are
appearing in Noah's Ark order. I saw and listened to two pairs with
brilliant red eyerings, also along the Last Cut. Far away and
from a bluff's peak, a Golden Eagle surveyed the early morning
desert. His or her head flashed and the mottled gold spanned on
the scapulars as well. I later saw and
heard many Say's Phoebes and several Sage Thrashers around the Golden Spike NHS
Visitor's Center.
About a dozen miles west of Golden Spike as the
curlew flies, and southeast of Salt Wells Flat, I saw something a birder
never wants to see in the wide open, remote spaces of Box Elder County--a flat
tire. There had to be someone around on whom I could pull my most helpless
act! I think I could earn an Oscar playing a dumbsel in
distress. Well, dang it all anyway, I never saw another human
being. That sad, floppy tire experienced TLC only from
me. This county road is so remote that NOT ONE person came along in
the hour or more I hogged the entire road, jacked the truck and employed all the
leveraging devices at my disposal. Hmmph. Where are all the
knights in shining armor who have a way with lug nuts when you need
them? My carefully-nurtured dumb act went completely to waste.
The bad thing about the flat tire is that I
lost more than an hour of birding on a fabulous, sunny gift of a day. The
good thing about being on that road and in the area in the first place, is that
I saw a Prairie Falcon, another Long-billed Curlew, a pair of Burrowing Owls,
and a Pronghorn Antelope. So I think I came out ahead, in the long
run.
On the way back through Golden Spike territory in
mid-afternoon I walked the Big Fill trail for the first time. If
you have the opportunity, you might consider taking this trail, too. I
recommend the cool morning hours for this endeavor. The Big Fill
Walk presents a great history lesson on the building of the
Transcontinental Railroad, or breathtaking scenery stretching across the mud
flats of Bear River MBR to the Wasatch Front snow caps, or just an easy
walk. Oh, yes--and I saw birds, too. Say's Phoebes, Rock Wrens,
Western Meadowlarks, Chukars, and Long-billed Curlews serenaded me. The
Say's Phoebes stuttered and whistled, "Ch-cheeuuuww.
Tch-tch-cheeuuuww. Ach-cheeuuuwww. God bless yeeuuuww."
All right, I'll fess up--I don't exactly know what they said, but it always
seemed to end in eeuuuwww. Maybe they were sneering at me. I also
watched a Turkey Vulture sail low enough over my head that I could see without
binoculars its red, wrinkled cranium. It sailed down toward the mud
flat. The vulture provided an interesting perspective--we don't usually
get to see these birds from above, but indeed, the bird flew down that draw like
a skier on a slope, and I watched it from my perspective higher above on
the trail.
This early in the season is the perfect time to get
out there and absorb the desert's stark and expansive beauty. The Northern
Utah sage has not yet blushed green for those fleeting days before the hot, dry
days of summer envelope us, but no matter. Golden Spike becomes an
inhospitable place as the weather warms unless you're from some place
hotter...like Death Valley! So get out
there and walk the walks, read the historical markers and enjoy the
best of the Great Basin desert before the scorching
time.
Kris
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