Stansbury Mountain Range - Tooele County, Utah

Winter can be a spectacular time for birding. First, there aren’t any leaves on the trees, making finding birds a little bit easier than during the foliage filled spring, summer, and fall seasons. Second, the amount of open water is greatly reduced making looking for waterfowl quite easy at times. Third, there are birds that come visit us in Utah that if you want to find in the Summer, you’d have to travel up to Northern Canada or Alaska. Last is the solitude. You can get out your cross country skis or some snowshoes and travel for hours without seeing another person.

Me looking at some Rosy Finches

The last week of December I found a small flock of Gray-crowned Rosy-finches a few miles up South Willow Canyon. A great find for me. Last winter birding in Utah County I saw a few flocks of several thousand rosy-finches on the West benches of Timpanogos, but they were too far away for me to identify to species so I didn’t count them for my personal list. This was my first up-close and personal encounter with this species – a new County bird, State bird, and Life bird! Another bonus was that this species has only 2 other records in ebird for Tooele County – and one of those was from 1975!

Gray crowned Rosy-finches

As the New Year rolled around I returned over and over again to the same location to try and locate the flock with no luck. I really want to get this species for my 2013 list. No luck so far. The road is paved about 3 miles up the canyon and is regularly plowed to a winter forest service gate. On a few Saturdays and occasionally after work I’ve actually hiked past the gate a few miles. Snowshoers and Cross-country skiers had left a good packed snow trail on the road past the gate which made for semi-easy hiking. There are miles and miles of exposed cliffs and steep rocky/muddy hills were rosy-finches love to hang out in winter. Unfortunately, there are dozens of other canyons close by that might only take a flock 2 minutes to get to, but for me would take hours. Maybe I’ll get lucky one of these trips.

Miles and miles of solitude

One trip did reward me with a small flock of mountain chickadees and red-breasted nuthatches. Another trip I saw a downy woodpecker excavating a hole in a willow tree and several Townsend's solitaire. The birds are very few and far between. I’ve been amazed at the feeling of solitude while hiking for hours up a snow-filled canyon and not seeing or hearing a single other animal for miles.

Creek in South Willow Canyon

Another bird I’ve had difficulty finding this year is American Dipper. Living in Provo, I could drive 4 miles from my house to the mouth of Provo Canyon and pick one of 4 or 5 parking lots, walk 20 feet to a bridge, and almost be guaranteed a dipper. Tooele County is a little different. There are almost no paved and plowed roads that go up any of the nearby canyons. South Willow is paved for about 3 miles, but the creek is pretty far from the road near the mouth of the canyon and is mostly underground or frozen.

Snowshoes makes winter birding much more enjoyable

After acquiring some fancy new snowshoes yesterday, I had to take them on a test drive. I hiked about a mile past the gate in South Willow Canyon to what is normally a nice picnic area in the summer to find several feet of snowpack. I was able to get a lot closer to the creek with my snowshoes (I was still sinking in a good foot because of how much powder there was!). The moment I got to the creek I could hear the familiar song of an American Dipper and spotted him singing away on a rock in the creek. So much more rewarding to find a dipper after a nice hike than peaking over a bridge at a parking lot. Unfortunately, I only had my little point and shoot camera so no great pics.

Can you spot the Dipper?

Little Cottonwood Picnic Area - South Willow Canyon

Have you had any great winter birding experiences this year?

In need of an adventure, I took to the mountains this evening. Lamb's Canyon is one of my favorite places to go hiking. It is mainly a narrow chute of a trail winding in a fairly steep manner up to a western overlook. The trail is flanked by the canyon waters on one side and a steep incline on the other. Aspens and conifers abound and for the most part, hikers do not. It's exactly the kind of place I like to go when I'm looking to do some thinking or unwind or just get away for a bit. The trail is clearly used by the creatures of the woods as well; specifically moose tracks are all over it. In addition to the moose and mule deer I've seen in this canyon the bird life is great. Owls, Thrushes, Towhees, Flycatchers, Kinglets, Warblers, Nuthatches, Woodpeckers, Vireos and the list goes on. On this particular evening, I wasn't necessarily expecting to see much. By the sound of it (or lack thereof) the Thrushes have for the most part vacated. This is unfortunate because the sound of singing thrushes is truly unparalleled in my opinion. Highlights, however, did include several Golden-crowned Kinglets, Red-breasted Nuthatches, Mountain Chickadees, a Broad-tailed Hummingbird gorging for an imminent migration, a Common Nighthawk at the summit at dusk, a Cooper's Hawk perched in a dead conifer and a handful of Macgillivray's Warblers and Dark-eyed Juncos. I reached the summit right around sunset, knowing I'd have a long, dark hike if I lingered long but I couldn't help myself. As I struck down the mountain after snapping a few pics, the light began to disappear and before I knew it I was reaching for my small flashlight. There really is nothing like being alone in the dark in the mountains knowing no one is around. It's exhilarating and terrifying but you sure know you're alive. I knew I'd run into a moose at some point, I just hoped it wouldn't be in the trail since they rarely get out of your way when they've picked a spot. Sure enough, as I came around a bend I heard a tremendous crashing in the woods to my left. There is nothing subtle about a moose; when they move, they crunch and crush. My small flashlight found the eyes staring at me. I issued a quick "hello, how you doing, just passing through" and bolted past the moose and down the trail keenly aware that moose attack more people than bears and wolves combined. Of course I still had quite a bit of hiking to do to get back to my car and knew there could easily be another moose or who knows what else. So began the "Hey Moose, Hey Bear, Hey Lion Hey Hey Hey" for what seemed an eternity. As an amusing aside, I noticed that the way I called it out sounded very much like a vendor at a baseball game: "Moose Moose Moose, Hey Hey Hey Get Your Moose Here".

Perhaps this whole adventure was foolhardy but I'm not sure life is meant for anything else.