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I went out last evening to seek out Morgan County's
creatures of the night. I had such a great time that
I wanted to post this glowing report. Here it is:
Common Poorwills' eyes glow brilliant, iridescent
orange.
Venus glows 14-karat white-gold.
Mule Deer's eyes glow luminous, emerald
green.
Great Horned Owls' eyes glow fiery, deep
red-orange.
A spider's eyes glow surprising,
golden-green.
I'll give you a birder's measure of the night--it
was a two-Goatsucker evening, and that's really good! The first
Goatsucker I heard and then saw, was a Common Nighthawk on UT 65
near mm 13. The nighthawk alerted me to its presence with a single,
nasal, drawn-out "Beeeet" note. I searched the gray and puffy sky
until I found it; delicate, erratic, and flashing those windows in its
wings.
The second Goatsucker I saw was the
littlest Nightjar--the Common Poorwill--at approximately mile 20.4.
After dark I pulled off the road to listen for anything that
might vocalize. The Common Poorwill obliged and as I
stepped out of my truck, jarred the night with its calls:
"Poorwillup! Poorwillup! Poorwillup!" The poorwill
sang from the crest of the road cut on the south side of the road. I
flashed my spotlight up and caught those orange beacon-eyes glowing
from a greasewood bush. I stopped watching momentarily and set
up my scope. The poorwill relocated to a metal post that supports
strands of barbed wire and still looked like a beacon. When it flew again,
the eyeshine was so bright that I was able to keep the bird in the
spotlight by following the glowing spot of orange. The poorwill landed on
a single dead branch and I honed in on him with the
scope. I can write "he" because the band of white across the lower
side of the tail was wide--really wide--indicating that the bird was a
male. He also appeared to be wearing a gray cryptically-colored
V-neck tennis sweater. The "V" was black. Under the sweater the
poorwill must have been wearing a white t-shirt. His thick white
crewneck collar showed above the black "V".
All the while I watched and listened to the
poorwill, two more Common Nighthawks flew high over my head and called their
nasal call. Every time I looked up I saw Venus glowing a steady,
bright white-gold. But it was too dark to see the nighthawks. One
nighthawk startled me by flying low--perhaps just 30 feet or so, and the
loud "Beeet! Beeet!" made me jump. A bat twittered
and fluttered by. Another poorwill answered the first from
afar. When "my" poorwill decided it was time for yet another new perch,
he dropped off the branch with great mothy flaps. His flight pattern
was very buoyant and owl-like. I once again followed him using the glow
from his eyes. He flew behind a small aspen and I could still see the
shine moving, filtered through the leaves.
When I left the poorwill behind I thought I was
heading home. Two Great Horned Owls dropped off the guardrail a short
distance later and changed my mind. I parked again and swept the
light beam high up over the crest of the road cut. Three disembodied pairs
of glowing green eyes nodded gently over the sage. The paired green
lights revealed the presence of silent sentinel Mule Deer that watched
me from above. The deer seemed curious instead of alarmed. I
had the impression they thought the cover of darkness was their refuge from
danger. They stared down at me, wagged their tall ears, and watched for a
long while.
I decided to try to bring the owls back with a
recorded call. Both owls returned to a tree at the crest of
the road embankment. They were adults and I'm sure they were a
mated pair. The size difference between the two was obvious as they
perched close together at the top of the tree. Their bodies overlapped in
my view and they faced different directions, but still turned those
distinct facial disks toward me. They bobbed; they weaved; they
hooted. The vision of those owls together with eyes glowing a fiery
deep red-orange from the top of that tree was a sight I won't soon
forget. Both owls later relocated lower to the dirt embankment above me
and hooted only 50 feet away. Before I left them to the night, I heard a
raspy-voiced owlet vocalizing from a thicket of trees below the road. I
also heard poorwills again.
It was deja vu all over again--I thought I was
heading home. Several miles later I passed another Great Horned Owl
perched on one of the waist-high roadside reflector posts. Although I
passed the owl from the opposite land and just 20 feet away, the owl
flew when I stopped for a look. Calling this one was fruitless and I
didn't try for very long. But flashing the spotlight down the road
revealed a small spot of golden-green luminescence moving across the road.
I thought it was a moth. How wrong I was. The slowly-moving
object was a hefty brown spider. The golden-green glow shone
from at least one pair of the spider's eyes. The spider's legspan was
about 2 inches, and the dorsal side of its large abdomen was covered with
yellowish nubbs. I had a theory...and I ran to the side of the road to
pluck a blade of grass. Tickling the yellowish nubbs on the spider's
abdomen confirmed my suspicion. The nubbs came alive. The
spider was carrying her young on her abdomen. One of the nubbs, a
perfect miniature of Mother, became active and do-si-do'd around one of
Mother's legs. Then the active offspring settled down again among its
brothers and sisters. If anyone can provide the ID of this spider, please
reply.
I figured I would need to put on blinders if I
was ever to get home. Morgan County's creatures of the night were
keeping me out later than I had planned. I was fortunate (or
unfortunate) in that across the last couple miles of UT 65 to Henefer, I
didn't see any more wildlife along the road. Finally, I was able to glow
home, and I did.
Should you desire to become a creature of the night
and seek out Morgan County's nocturnal wildlife, I caution you to
drive a much lower speed than the posted speed limit on highway 65.
At different times between the Salt Lake/Morgan County line at Big Mountain
Pass and Henefer, I have seen moose, elk, and deer on the road.
Last month I rolled a porcupine that was squarely in my lane when I rounded a
curve.
Kris
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