The Black Mesa: A Birder's Paradise

Most people have probably never heard of the Black Mesa, some birders have never heard of it either, and that's a shame. It can be found in Cimarron County, Oklahoma, north into Colorado and west into New Mexico. The mesa sits at a whopping (for that area) 5,700 feet above sea level and is surrounded on all sides my smaller mesas and buttes rising out of the arid canyonland below. This beautiful area was visited often by famed naturalist George Sutton during the first half of the 20th century. Of it's allure, he wrote: "…it is this element of the unexplained, the unexpected, the unknown, that gives this country so much of its charm." After just one trip, I know what he means. The whole area is a magnet for birds of the high and low Rockies. It's thought that the mesas and buttes are a last frontier for these birds that won't cross the vast low-country to the east. One can see this draw with the high mesa tops, deep canyons, cottonwood arroyos, lonely pinyon pines, and juniper. It's the perfect hybrid between western forest and open cactus country, in its own world entirely.

Black Mesa Country and Cottonwood Arroyos

For my first trip out there, two birder friends and I spent 3 days in the area. We searched for life birds and racked up western species that are virtually nonexistent in Arkansas; all the while enjoying the great scenery and weather. Sunrise day one found us at Black Mesa State Park waiting on the road, hot coffee in hand, for Burrowing Owls to greet the day. As we waited in vain for the owls, a burbling song could be heard about 100 yards from us. A view through the scope showed a Sage Thrasher sitting in a cholla cactus. A lifer across the board and much desired at that! An uncommon resident of the area at best, this was one of many we saw and the only one farther away than 30 feet :-)

Sage Thrasher. Taken later on, but in a cholla none-the-less.

Deeper into the state park, my crew and I decided to take a quick jaunt up a canyon. Within seconds, we were greeted by a loud "chili, chili, chili!" No doubt a Canyon Towhee…X marks lifer number two. This towhee and many others gave us great looks. The sound of cameras snapping in the canyon was deafening as the bird stared at us, all the while a Spotted Towhee moving around below it.

Canyon Towhee

Continuing on, we headed north to the site of Cimarron County's annual Easter Pageant. This passion play setup is nestled in a canyon below a great mesa; the perfect spot for eastern birders on a pilgrimage west. As we birded the road on the way in, I had one of many stop-and-drool moments of the trip. Perched on a dead shrub, flanked by a rock wall, sat one of the three most elusive nemesis birds of my life so far: Ladder-backed Woodpecker. Nearby was another. After viewing and getting photos from close-range I had to do a little dance.

This stunner couldn't have been more obliging if it landed on my head. As for the other two, they were both possibilities on this trip, but remain at large.

Hiking up the side of the mesa at Easter Pageant, we stopped to enjoy a Canyon Towhee. While gawking, we were ambushed by a sneaky Canyon Wren! This bird should get the most cooperative bird award. We watched and took photos for at least 15 minutes as it disappeared into crevices and popped up just feet away. While we played around, a Curve-billed Thrasher materialized nearby. Two lifers just a few feet apart!! As we laughed a Rock Wren began sounding the alarm above us. This drew in a Sage Thrasher and several Rufous-crowned Sparrows. The attention was astounding and had us literally spinning in circles trying to see it all.

Canyon Wren. Possibly my favorite shot of the whole trip.

After pulling ourselves away from the scene, we headed to the top of the mesa. Out of breath already, we lost more at the breathtaking views before us, 360° all around. From the valley, scrub-jays were in deep conversation, from just below us a Mountain Chickadee called and after a playback, it was confirmed that we had Juniper Titmice too. As the titmice (another lifer) worked their way up to the top, we once again found ourselves surrounded by an overwhelming number of birds. Gnatcatchers, Oregon Juncos, a Bewick's Wren, Canyon Towhee, Townsend's Solitaires, and a Chihuahuan Raven "kraak"ing from somewhere below. For most of the show, I was sitting near the edge trying to take in vista and birds at the same time.

Juniper Titmouse

As the birds slowed down, so did the birders. Our last hurrah for the day was some time well spent with a roadrunner. This species is a regular in Arkansas, but great to see where it's much more common. I never get tired of that multicolored head stripe and iridescent feathers. 

Greater Roadrunner

Day two in mesaland found us once again at the state park where we had a Western Screech-Owl at the campground. Try as we might, the bird would not come out of a dense thicket across the creek from us. This would-be lifer went uncounted after the lack of a visual. Before leaving, we also bagged Cassin's Finch, one of the more uncommon vagrants to the area from the Rockies. A flock of 17 plus some thick mule deer made things even more worthwhile. After this quick morning jaunt, we headed about 10 miles north to the real Black Mesa. The smaller mesas and buttes of the day before are put to shame by this hulk. The mesa was an incredible sight, but birds were sparse. We got great looks at Townsend's Solitaire and a Pink-sided Junco, but the day heated up too fast. It never got above 75, but in a vast openness, under harsh sun, with no breeze, it's pretty hot for little critters. Except for snakes apparently. I fully expected that the cold night temperatures had put any herps down for the winter, but that notion was thrown out. As we drove down the road, a snake appeared, laid out straight. We made its day, as it was luckily short enough that straddling it in the car was a life saver. We immediately turned around to find it coiled in the middle of the road. A look through binoculars showed a good-sized Prairie Rattlesnake (Crotalus viridis) coiled with head tucked. As we moved closer for photos (but not too close), it uncoiled to show its face. From a distance we were able to coax it off the road and home free into the scrub. Though cool, seeing that snake ended our desire to go traipsing through the bush. With its size and our distance from medical care, I'm sure it would've done a number.

Prairie Rattluh

Up this same road, we found ourselves in Baca County, Colorado watching Common and Chihuahuan Ravens harass two Golden Eagles at close range. After a little faith and wishing, the eagles flew towards us. They banked and soared overhead, surrounded by a calm, but wary escort of ravens. These majestic creatures were the stars of the day.

Juvenile Golden Eagle

A big rattlesnake and Golden Eagles. I don't believe there's a better greeting from this perfect, rugged country. After our encounters, we opted for shade under massive cottonwoods and one more try at the screech-owl back at the state park. Hours later the owl was still in the same thicket across the same creek; the only one in the area with water I'm sure because it was a finger of the state park lake. Inconveniently, there was a road on our side, but not on the owl's side. To get to the thicket one would have to drive the mile back to the park entrance, cross the creek on a bridge, and walk the mile back down the other side to the thicket. OR….wade across the creek. Leaving my companions to watch the show, I decided to wade the creek. Gear in hand, I crossed about 40 yards downstream from the thicket. The water was deeper than it looked and I was quickly in over my waist. Fortunately it didn't get any deeper and after climbing the bouldery canyon wall I was to the top, headed towards the trees. After thirty minutes of scouring the cottonwoods and willows, eliciting several "toot, toot"s from the darn owl that I could hear but not see, I decided enough was enough. I began walking away and turned around to give the central cottonwood one last glance. As I turned, I caught the glow of a yellow eye peeking around the trunk at me from about 10 feet away. Sneaky sucker! I could've jumped to the moon and back. After watching for a few minutes, I quietly left the area and waded back across. Soaking wet, muddy, and cold. It was all well worth it.

Western Screech-Owl

The final day of our four-day trip took us east towards home. Along the way, we had a prairie dog town scoped out that would be our last shot at Burrowing Owl. After checking every prairie dog town we came across for 3 days, I was ready for a good look at one of the owls. Our target location was Optima NWR, home to Not-a-Lake Optima: the dammed expanse of sand dunes and scrub that never held the water. As we drove in, thick fog covered the refuge, playing on the nerves as we hoped for the best at the p.d. town. One Ferruginous Hawk, several Scaled Quail, and a Merlin later, the fog had burned off to give perfect views of the town. The prairie dogs were busy at work collecting seeds and running around. As we scanned, a lump atop a yucca stalk stopped us in our tracks. There it sat…one Burrowing Owl. We really had come full circle since this was the first bird we looked for after arriving in the Oklahoma panhandle. This marked life bird #9 for the trip. Eight out of ten hopefuls for the panhandle was not bad at all, especially when coupled with the incidental Costa's Hummingbird coming to a feeder near Tulsa. I couldn't have asked for a more magical fall getaway. Our species total for the trip was 97 and included a bit more than just birding the Okie Panhandle. Like I said, we got Costa's Hummingbird in Tulsa, but also spent the better part of a day birding Great Salt Plains NWR in the central part of the state and taking in all of its Sandhill Cranes.

I'm one of those birders who can rejoice in the common things, so you've got to know that a new bird, or even those I see seldom, really gets me excited. Birds are miracles here on earth and I truly believe that one of my reasons for being here is to relay that to our ailing humanity through words and photos. So, good reading!

"…a day is happily spent that shows me any bird that I never 

saw alive before. How then can you with so

much before you, keep out of the woods another minute?"

--Elliot Coues, Key to North American Birds, 1872

For a complete set of photos from the trip, visit: www.pbase.com/mpruitt/recents

Ferruginous Hawk

Peace on the Prairie

Walking through the tall grass, I stop in a large patch of blue sage to close my eyes and listen: Eastern Meadowlarks competing with the soft, yet constant din of grasshoppers, the cool breeze playing through the grass, and a House Wren scolding some distant annoyance. Against the afternoon sun I can picture myself sitting on a horse, one of the first settlers moving west through this wild country in awe of the rolling hills that are a patchwork of colors thanks to goldenrod, sage, and various grasses. That's the magic of the Flint Hills for you. I start again, flushing a Vesper Sparrow along a hillside, as a shrike watches from afar. At the top of the rise I stop to enjoy the purple brilliance of Eryngium leavenworthii…a personal favorite.

Leavenworth's Eryngo (Eryngium leavenworthii)

The Flint Hills were named for their rocky nature, actually limestone and chert, not flint. This particular weekend I was with other birders at the Tall Grass Prairie Preserve in Osage County, Oklahoma, at the south end of this region. The Flint Hills have been used by different people for what seems like forever, as evidenced by a near perfect arrowhead resting on the prairie surface…perfect grays blending in with the soil and other rocks…probably from the Caddo 2,000-3,000 years ago. When white settlers came, the name of the game was grazing land and eventually natural gas and oil; the boom continues today with the methodic thumping of oil wells that can still be heard in many areas on the 40,000 acre preserve. This first afternoon was just a prelude to the next day's main event: 10 hours of birding, photography, botany, and more on the pristine prairie. On my way out for the night, I passed a stand of sunflowers and noticed that each was adorned with its own Red-winged Blackbird. Here, a female caught my eye. Normally seen as dull, this one needed its photo taken.

Red-winged Blackbird

The next morning was cool, but just right for us gear-laden birders. By 8:00, we were at County Road 2809 which leads into the preserve. We stopped just off the highway where a fencerow stand of scrub and cottonwoods creates a mini-oasis for migrants. Down the line, the birds ranged from the yellow to the brown. Wilson's Warbler and Palm Warbler to assorted sparrows. The Palm Warbler (two for the day) is a rare occurrence considering we are at the EXTREME western end of their migration range, and maybe even a little west of that. Among them, the sparrows, many shades of brown: Clay-colored (12), Lincoln's (9), Savanna (1), and Vesper (1). For us western Arkansans, Clay-coloreds are a yearly occurrence, but it's always good to see such a large number.

Clay-colored Sparrow

Beneath two Clay-coloreds sits a Lincoln's. Equally as carefully colored. Sparrows are too overlooked and taken for granted, which is a shame. A closer look can prove them almost as good-looking as any super model bird.

Lincoln's Sparrow

Continuing on to the preserve, you pass through post oak cross timber habitat. The cross timbers, a perfect fading zone between the western prairies and eastern forests, gets its name from the tightly-packed trees, whose intertwined limbs make it impassible in many areas. The oaks were absolutely LOADED with acorns and full of Blue Jays, Red-headed Woodpeckers, and the likes. All acorn eaters, I had never seen so many in one place. Granted the preserve is 40,000 acres, but still! Both the jays and RHWOs were a constant racket in the oaks as they caching the nuts. Many of the jays just pass through on their mass migration out of the northern forests and this was clear from the 100s flying over in small, constant flocks all day. Northern Flickers joined in the movement, starting double takes from the birders as we looked for that flash of red instead of our usual eastern yellow. After two days of hoping, and all yellow-shafted flickers, we got it on the second day. A glimpse of red shot over our heads. I followed it into the trees where I was able to watch it as it flicked its tail…nothing but brilliant red. SCORE!

The Flint Hills at Sunrise

Late September is the perfect time for a trip to the TGPP. You can get the best of both worlds with migrants still moving through and winter residents starting to show up (Think Yellow-billed Cuckoo meets Sharp-shinned Hawk). This weekend, a light south wind had stopped migrants in their paths. Including the exceedingly rare Monarch butterfly. After being at the TGPP, I'm not so sure they're in as steep of a decline as what we thought. Late in the afternoon, we stopped at the top of a ridge that overlooked prairie and post oak barrens for as far as the eye could see. Walking away from the rest of the group, I was drawn ever further into goldenrods and blue sage, nearly every one covered in Monarchs. Eventually out of sight of the car, the ridge came to a point. I followed it back around and below the rim just a little bit, stopping all the way to take in the Monarch miracle. With each puff of wind, the monarchs would rise off the flowers creating clouds, yes, clouds. There were 100s of them in this few acre oasis.

Monarch Butterfly

Catching my breath, I couldn't help but stare. The good news: every patch of flowers on the preserve was a slightly lesser, but similar sight. The bad news: we are not professional mathematicians. Here's what we came up with. Consider that there were 5 monarchs per acre (which is grossly underestimated), then consider that 1/2 of the TGPP had flowers conducive to monarch nectaring (20,000 acres). That would mean that on Saturday, September 27, 2014 the preserve had 100,000 monarchs, and I suspect that number was much more. Blessed was the only word that could come to my mind as I walked away from the scene, still awestruck hours later.

When I'm out on excursions like this, I try to pay attention to everything. I think I do a pretty good job most of the time. As the heat of the day struck and we lunched under huge, ancient bur oaks, I decided to take a walk down the sunny road. Going, a flash across the ground caught my eye…a tiger beetle. These ferocious predators always warrant a photo shoot.

Hairy-necked Tiger Beetle (Cicindela hirticollis)

Clouded Crimson (Schinia gaurae)

On our last day at the prairie, we met up with a PRO botanist for some lessons. At a place like the TGPP, a lot of my mind is on the birds, but I tried to be a good student! During the "lesson" we came across a really cool caterpillar on velvety gaura. Jumping the gun, one might identify it as a Monarch caterpillar, but look closer. Another red flag was that it wasn't on milkweed.

Leaving this magical place was bittersweet, but life must go on. As much as I'd like to, I can't live in a prairie dream-state forever. Luckily, the grand scene of a Northern Harrier gliding silently over the landscape to see us out will tide me over until next time.

Another successful adventure! And I am happy to report that no one got charged by bison, which would be no bueno.

Northern Harrier

For more photos of this exciting trip, visit: http://www.pbase.com/mpruitt/tall_grass_prairie_2014