Good Morning
We arose relatively early to depart by 7am, picking up Courtney for a jaunt to Hagerman. I'm glad the guru is back in the country for the time being, because he's better at planning birding trips than I am. But following through on the plan took all three of us.
With the help of some adroit map-reading skills, we ended up on Refuge Road without a single wrong turn. Along the road, we saw lots of meadowlarks, doves, and starlings. I mutely pointed at a perched Red-tailed Hawk but the driver failed to stop and our presence scared him into flight; this allowed us a look at his distinctly red tail and large frame. Kestrels and a harrier rounded out a good road for raptors, and bluebirds, phoebes and signs for the visitor center straight ahead dotted the roadside.
At Hagerman we entered the visitor center after a short hesitation based on the sign that said "Office hours: 10-7 Monday through Friday." This being Saturday, it took a leap from the moving car for me to check the door to see if it was really locked. There were actually two employees there, and they were eager to provide birding lists, posters, bookmarks, and information. After absorbing many options and directional gestures, we backed away and went to the car to put away our extra things. David pointed out a small flock of juncos flitting around in the bushes.
After a moment of indecision, we went on to look out upon the low marshes. Our first stop next to a bridge revealed coots, a distant Great Egret and Great Blue Heron, and several flocks of water birds flying over, one of which David identified as Redheads. I found ducks in flight difficult throughout the day, so I would have to wait to be able to know for myself. He assured us we'd see them all later on the water.
Meanwhile, closer in, a Lincoln's Sparrow hopped onto the bridge railing and allowed us an extended look at her. She even had a companion close by and they provided Courtney and me with a short sparrow lesson. I gave up on them a while ago, but the field marks seemed to make so much sense coming from the guru. I doubt, however, that the next time I run into a Lincoln's Sparrow, I will "just know" that is what it is.
Down in the brushy marsh a Sora wandered around, and a Marsh Wren was momentarily visible. Three long-legged, long-billed shorebirds flew over and David said they were yellowlegses. Somehow he managed both to hear and remember their calls as they flew, and he later pronounced that those were the Greater variety.
We proceeded to an apparently man-made peninsula with an oil rig in the middle of it providing a peaceful outdoor ambiance to our wanderings. We looked out in to marsh and open water, of which coots were the primary denizens. There were Blue-winged Teal and Gadwall on one side, Pied-billed Grebes a little further off, and a raft of ducks which David with a scope confirmed were mostly Redheads. As he scanned through them, a Canvasback and a Northern Pintail also emerged. The pintail evaded my gaze, but his race and I would meet again later.
A white van, which we had seen earlier at the visitor center, pulled up alongside us and several elderly people disembarked. The leader asked if we were members of the Audubon, and she seemed surprised to find that no, we were "just interested in birds" (her second option). After a short glance into the water, a man in the group saw the Redheads, Canvasback, a distant American Pelican, and Green-winged Teal.
These last two had escaped us so far, and they continued to do so until we left; the American Pelican turned out to be a piece of white trash, and the Green-winged Teal, we concluded, were the product either of crack or senility. Our departure was speeded by the man's surprised confirmation of David's observation: "Y'know, I think he's right about the pintail!"
For the rest of the trip, the white van symbolized terror, stalking, and all forms of evil. Despite these unfortunate associations, it no longer harassed our observations and we freely moved along.
Stay tuned for the next installment of our October 22 adventure: Student Revolt
With the help of some adroit map-reading skills, we ended up on Refuge Road without a single wrong turn. Along the road, we saw lots of meadowlarks, doves, and starlings. I mutely pointed at a perched Red-tailed Hawk but the driver failed to stop and our presence scared him into flight; this allowed us a look at his distinctly red tail and large frame. Kestrels and a harrier rounded out a good road for raptors, and bluebirds, phoebes and signs for the visitor center straight ahead dotted the roadside.
At Hagerman we entered the visitor center after a short hesitation based on the sign that said "Office hours: 10-7 Monday through Friday." This being Saturday, it took a leap from the moving car for me to check the door to see if it was really locked. There were actually two employees there, and they were eager to provide birding lists, posters, bookmarks, and information. After absorbing many options and directional gestures, we backed away and went to the car to put away our extra things. David pointed out a small flock of juncos flitting around in the bushes.
After a moment of indecision, we went on to look out upon the low marshes. Our first stop next to a bridge revealed coots, a distant Great Egret and Great Blue Heron, and several flocks of water birds flying over, one of which David identified as Redheads. I found ducks in flight difficult throughout the day, so I would have to wait to be able to know for myself. He assured us we'd see them all later on the water.
Meanwhile, closer in, a Lincoln's Sparrow hopped onto the bridge railing and allowed us an extended look at her. She even had a companion close by and they provided Courtney and me with a short sparrow lesson. I gave up on them a while ago, but the field marks seemed to make so much sense coming from the guru. I doubt, however, that the next time I run into a Lincoln's Sparrow, I will "just know" that is what it is.
Down in the brushy marsh a Sora wandered around, and a Marsh Wren was momentarily visible. Three long-legged, long-billed shorebirds flew over and David said they were yellowlegses. Somehow he managed both to hear and remember their calls as they flew, and he later pronounced that those were the Greater variety.
We proceeded to an apparently man-made peninsula with an oil rig in the middle of it providing a peaceful outdoor ambiance to our wanderings. We looked out in to marsh and open water, of which coots were the primary denizens. There were Blue-winged Teal and Gadwall on one side, Pied-billed Grebes a little further off, and a raft of ducks which David with a scope confirmed were mostly Redheads. As he scanned through them, a Canvasback and a Northern Pintail also emerged. The pintail evaded my gaze, but his race and I would meet again later.
A white van, which we had seen earlier at the visitor center, pulled up alongside us and several elderly people disembarked. The leader asked if we were members of the Audubon, and she seemed surprised to find that no, we were "just interested in birds" (her second option). After a short glance into the water, a man in the group saw the Redheads, Canvasback, a distant American Pelican, and Green-winged Teal.
These last two had escaped us so far, and they continued to do so until we left; the American Pelican turned out to be a piece of white trash, and the Green-winged Teal, we concluded, were the product either of crack or senility. Our departure was speeded by the man's surprised confirmation of David's observation: "Y'know, I think he's right about the pintail!"
For the rest of the trip, the white van symbolized terror, stalking, and all forms of evil. Despite these unfortunate associations, it no longer harassed our observations and we freely moved along.
Stay tuned for the next installment of our October 22 adventure: Student Revolt
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