Southwest of Oklahoma City, up from the plains, rise sharp
and striking mountains. The granite spines of the Wichitas are remnant, left to
stand in memory of years gone by. The area is the epitome of the west. The
region got its start with the establishment of Fort Sill, in 1869, to supply
the escalating Indian Wars. The fort was strategically placed in the foothills
of the Wichita Mountains, an important landmark for Comanche and Wichita
Indians in the area. A controversial part of our American history, campaigns
were waged against them throughout the last half of the 19th-century.
Fort Sill also played an integral part in bringing some law and order to the
west, even aiding the “Hanging Judge” Parker back on the east side of Indian
Territory at Fort Smith, AR. In 1901, as things calmed down, the town of Lawton
was established. Comanche tamed and outlaws ousted, the area would become the
Comanche, Kiowa, and Apache reservation. Fort Sill remains a major installation
today, the last of the original South Plains forts.
In 1901, a wildlife refuge was established adjacent to the
fort, and remains an important upland oasis today. It was at the Wichita
Mountains National Wildlife Refuge where I, and two other birders, found ourselves
one weekend in early May 2016. Under the shroud of finals and prepping for my
second graduation, I couldn’t help myself.
I am usually able to find excitement on even the most
typical day. Sometimes, though, “normal” life itself isn’t enough. With an
average life expectancy of around 78 years (I like to think mine will be longer),
there’s no time for dilly dallying through a boring day. We only get one life
in this world and it’s the greatest earthly adventure with which we’ll ever be
bestowed. I think our duty here is to live it vibrantly and effectively. This
is precisely the reason I rarely pass up the chance for adventure…I sure wasn’t
going to pass this one up either. The Wichitas called and I came.
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| Early Morning in the Wichitas |
The Wichita Mountains are a stronghold for Black-capped
Vireo, listed as endangered by the US Fish and Wildlife Service. The species
winters in western Mexico and spends summers in northern Mexico, central Texas,
and southwest Oklahoma. It is the smallest of our North American vireos and
prefers oak scrub on rocky hillsides. No wonder the Wichitas house so many; almost
4500 pairs at the last estimate! We arrived mid-morning the first day, early
enough to enjoy another hour of cool temperatures and intermittent cloud-cover.
With vireos in mind, we hiked the Elk Mountain trail. The peak sits at 2270
feet in elevation, compared to 1600 feet at the trailhead below, and we went
all the way to the top.
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| I'm always amazed at how well cell phone photos turn out these days. |
The terrain in these mountains is rugged. Rounded granite
dressed in reds and oranges, provided traction as we climbed. Yellow lichen
coated the quartz-laden rock and cacti grew from its crevices. Our first
Black-capped Vireos came just five minutes up the trail, in a drain culminating
into a steep canyon far above. In the oak mott, here, lived a pair. The tiny
male was heard singing from a thicket and soon seen darting through the scrub
oaks. His dark black head was colored in stark contrast against a white face
mask, all surrounding a brick-red eye. His yellow flanks and greenish back were
like a beacon as he moved around marking territory with insistent singing. The
female, much like the male, but with a slate gray head, followed close behind.
Cameras waited anxiously as these two quickly skulked from oak to oak.
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| One of our first Black-capped Vireos of the day. |
They didn’t pay us much attention, as it was early morning
and matters were still focused on finding food. The duo, and others throughout
the day, could be seen singing, darting in some direction, grabbing a snack,
and perching to quickly swallow it before emitting a quick song, and moving to
the next tasty morsel. Nearly every one gave the cameras only a split second
chance, often missed with the photographers vying for a precarious boulder
perch. Vexing little birds. The Black-cappeds were interesting to listen to, as their song repertoire is an order of magnitude greater than other vireos.
Soon after our first vireo encounter, a Canyon Wren sang
from boulders above us. It’s descending series of tee-tee-tee-tee-tees is one of the sole melodies that draws me back
to the west. The welcome was appreciated. Without much coaxing, he landed on a
boulder right in front of us, curiously bobbing up and down as he scoped out
the area…a typical wren behavior, even way out here.
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| A common sight in the western canyonlands: Canyon Wren. |
As the clouds parted, and we rose higher, things began to
heat up. Before it got too hot, the rocks came alive with Eastern Collared Lizards.
This species is recognized for being very large and colorful. Known as
“Mountain Boomers” back in Arkansas, the lizard has been extirpated from most
of their former limestone glades. Back home, males have brown heads and backs,
two black collars, and lime-green-yellow to bluish-green legs, tails, and
sides. In the populations of the Wichita and Glass Mountains, males have the
same two black collars, but have bright golden heads and backs, with
electrifying teal-blue legs, tails, and sides. The Wichita lizards also have a
nice set of speckles covering their bodies. Females of both types are
nondescript and blend in well with the rocks.
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| Eastern Collared Lizard |
Unlike our Arkansas collared lizards, those in the Wichitas
are not wary and sit calmly for a gawking naturalist.
For all intents and purposes to this southerner, the Wichita
Mountains are the west, but ecologically speaking they’re the very near west.
Most of the birds are something I could easily see back home, but it’s the few
that I can’t find at home, and the dramatic terrain, that make trips like this worthwhile.
One of the coolest birds of this canyon habitat is the Rufous-crowned Sparrow.
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| Rufous-crowned Sparrow |
Dubbed “little brown jobs” (LBJs) by many birders, sparrows
get a bad wrap for being dull. Those who say a sparrow is dull, though, clearly
have never looked closely at any of them. A good friend of mine inspires birders away from this mindset with his “Sparrow
Wall of Fame”, a collection of his brilliant sparrow photos adorning a wall in
his home. The large Rufous-crowneds love rocky slopes and walk around
all day feeding along boulders and among the grass and cacti. Not wary at all,
we had several walking amidst us in the rocks. One, not noticing the three
photographers standing on a boulder, walked almost too close to focus on! We did a lot of boulder perching…picture a circus act where a
mass of performers climb on top of something, join hands, and hang off the
edge. Not quite what we did, but you get the picture. Ta-da!
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| I hope he doesn't get this close to every large predator he encounters. |
The habitat on Elk Mountain and its slopes is very interesting.
Great expanses of granite hold many, small oases in the form of scrub
oak/juniper thickets and grassy meadows. This interspersing of habitats exists
in harmony. The little, grassy meadows are home to many of the spring
wildflowers still in bloom: antelopehorn milkweed, larkspur, tiny barrel cacti
with hot pink blooms, and firewheels, among others. The canyon oak motts are
home to our Black-capped Vireos, Blue-gray Gnatcatchers, Summer Tanagers, and a
few other familiar faces.
In the meadows were long-dead oak and juniper snags; some
standing, some fallen. Some probably saw their end in a hot fire, some in old
age. The singing of Painted Buntings was the persistent anthem of the snaggy
meadows. One didn’t have to look far to find a nice male perched up, head
thrown back in song. As a matter of fact, one didn’t have to go far at all to
be stopped in their tracks by a Painted Bunting. They held up progress so, I
thought we would have to start swatting them out of the way like flies; a
blasphemous thought.
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| One of the most incredible plumages of the avian world. |
Up we went, thinking we would soon run out of Black-capped
Vireos. We never did. At the capstone of Elk Mountain’s peak, the highest
absolute point, 700 feet above the plains below, sang one of the vireos from a
grove of junipers. With 30 mph gusts of wind, I was surprised it had decided
to, at least temporarily, take up residence here. Us large humans could hardly
even stand at the top without threat of being blown over the edge! Yet somehow,
this tiny bird, a poster-child for scrubland conservation, seemed to be having
a great life in this sweeping field of nearly treeless orange granite. Looking
out from the top, bison could be seen grazing on the plains far below, where
the main park road snaked through a sea of green grass. The rest of the
Wichitas could also be seen from this almost 360-degree view. Views like this
spark in me a sort of nostalgia for times gone by and I can’t help but think I
would have been part of those times in another life. How I would love to go
back and partake in the early years of conservation, when the land was still
completely wild. But my place is enjoying today's time and continuing what was started.
All in all, it was about two miles to the top, but took us
most of the day thanks to all of the incredible sights and birds along the way.
With my wiry build and active lifestyle, I always find myself in need of food.
With breakfast at 6:00am and a measly granola bar at 11:00, I quickly regretted
not packing lunch for our hike, but there was no way I was turning around to
get it. I am too competitive to leave my friends for even a few minutes. I
might miss THE Black-capped Vireo shot of the day! The granola bar helped for
about thirty seconds, but its energy was used in flexing my big toe as I
clambered over yet another boulder. Amazingly, the day’s 25+ Black-capped
Vireos helped me forget most of my hunger.
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| One of the upper-most vireos. |
Out of water and food, we arrived back at the car after
2:00pm. One stick-gouged calf, four sunburned limbs, and two sunburned eyes
later was enough to put most people over the edge, but our group of three
birders isn’t most people. This is all a welcome price to pay for good
adventure, good fun, and good birds, most of all. We enjoyed a Black-chinned Hummingbird feeding above us, at prairie larkspur, and another photogenic collared lizard before finally calling it a day.
The next morning found us at the refuge just before sunrise.
We arrived in time to have front row seats to the show we missed the day
before. As sunbeams started to peek above the mountains, turkeys began to call
from every direction and, somewhere, a Chuck-will’s-Widow ended his long night.
As we photographed the sunrise, two turkeys went back and forth gobbling from
someplace just out of sight. Camera snapping at the orange and blue sky, I
could hear their loud wing beating display, snapping as the stiff feathers
scraped the ground. We soon found the two toms in a strutting face-off nearby.
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| Early sunbeams over the mountains. |
It wasn’t long before we were interrupted by Painted
Buntings again and our thoughts drifted to Black-capped Vireos. Back at Elk
Mountain, we spent several hours enjoying them again, chasing one in circles, during its morning rounds, for at least 30 minutes. Eventually, we made our
final descent and left the vireos behind.
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| Sing, feed, sing, feed, sing, feed...a never ending process for an energetic bird. |
Later, back down on the plains, Lark Sparrows seemed to
dominate. Lark Sparrow is another striking sparrow that will draw even the
worst advocate of the LBJ from their evil ways. They, along with a large flock
of Clay-colored Sparrows and Painted Buntings, provided late-morning entertainment.
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| Lark Sparrow, large and charismatic. |
Bison bidding us farewell against a backdrop of rugged granite, it began to rain, and so ended our Wichita Mountain excursion. As with any trip west, I left changed just a little bit more.
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| The way it used to be. |
"Time, geologic time, looks out at us from the rocks as from no other objects in the landscape...Even if we do not know our geology, there is something in the face of a cliff and in the look of a granite boulder that gives us pause."
--John Burroughs
Happy travels!
