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Dendragapus obscurus —what a howling good taxonomic name—and a great bird as well. I saw about a dozen and a half D.O.s, a.k.a. Blue Grouse (Grouses? Greese?) around Powder Mountain Ski Area on Sunday from 4 pm until dusk. The first family of six crossed Highway 158 at about mile 10.4 under the careful supervision of one who I assumed was Mother. Several birds showed developing yellow combs over their eyes and all sported dark charcoal-gray tail feathers with a broad light-gray terminal band. As Mother Grouse carefully shepherded her 5 cheepers (thanks for that word, Milton) across, she kept a wary eye on the big green thang (my truck) just 30 feet away. Once her duty was done she became curious and cautiously approached me to a distance of 20 feet or so. Occasionally she cocked her brown eye skyward, ostensibly to look for predators. She stretched her neck as she closed in. She placed each foot with great deliberation, folding and expanding her individual toes with each step. Her neck feathers blew around a bit in the light wind and revealed yellow-orange skin beneath. Twenty feet was close enough. Apparently the inspection satisfied her curiosity and she turned to join her charges foraging on the shoulder.The scene repeated itself .4 miles up the dirt road to Powder Ridge Village condominiums. The new grouse didn’t perceive me as a threat either. This family foraged on wild lettuce along an embankment and needed only to be still to disappear against the dirt and rock backdrop. In the evening I flushed another single bird in open coniferous and mixed deciduous habitat. It landed on the trail ahead and I slowly followed its meandering, tail-fanned fanny until it took to a higher embankment. I also saw several grouse foraging along a rocky path. The sentry watched me and I watched it silhouetted against the western sky. I found yesterday’s experience remarkable for how docile and approachable the Blue Grouse is. This observation is repeated in Kaufman’s Lives of North American Birds. I left the high elevation environs in murky dusk light. Rounding a curve I saw another grouse ahead and just a step away from finishing its road crossing. This grouse, however, was not approachable. My creeping forward for a closer look caused it to take the last step to the road shoulder. Raising my binoculars with lightning speed wasn’t fast enough. I kinda think-I sorta caught-a little bitty of an impression-of a crest and black ruff feathers, but I wouldn’t bet my next paycheck on it. The grouse exploded off the road into thick Sub-alpine Firs 20 to 30 feet away. "No problema!" I thought; pulled up adjacent to the firs, and employed my million-candle power owling spotlight. But alas--or perhaps hurrah, Mother Nature has equipped grouse with survival instincts to select the safety of thick conifers for roosting that also stymies detection with binoculars and million-candle power owling spotlights. I couldn’t find it. I’ve given that grouse the taxonomic moniker Obscurus obscurus. I’ll just have to be satisfied with my earlier sightings of Dendragapus obscurus, and those were pretty darned good. Kris |