|
The Kolob Canyons area of Zion National Park
is a terrific on-the-way birding spot. Not only is the area
breathtaking for its red rock canyon beauty, but it's an easy place to bird due
to the proximity of exit 40 of I-15. I birded Kolob Canyons
yesterday from 8:30 to 2:30. Birds sang at every turnout along
the scenic drive. If you have time for just a quick stop here, pull
into any turnout, get out of your vehicle, listen, and chase whatever you
hear up and down the road. If you have more time, choose a trail and go
for it. The Kolob-only Zion entrance fee is $10.00.
Along the road I came across Black-throated Gray,
Virginia's, Orange-crowned, and Yellow-Rumped Warblers; Ruby-crowned Kinglets;
Blue-gray Gnatcatchers; Spotted Towhees; a Juniper Titmouse and Western
Scrub Jays. I came across one particular tree where a Black-throated
Gray was singing its burry, "Come'n, come'n, come'n, come'n, come'n SEE
ME!". A couple other sprites moved about in the same tree and when I
brought up my binoculars, instantly I had a red-orange crown in my
view. It was the seldom-seen crown of a Ruby-crowned Kinglet.
Another warbler foraged in the top of the tree in bright morning sunlight.
The Orange-crowned Warbler dipped its head toward me and the sun to show
its slight orange crown. I've never seen the crown before yesterday
morning. The sight was gratifying, but wait! Who named this bird
after that feature, anyway? I might have to have a little discussion with
them about creating bird names that make sense.
A male Broad-tailed Hummingbird scribed deep,
corkscrew crescents down into and above the canyon along the
road. I watched the display with two Minnesota birders who
were thrilled to see and hear their first Broad-tailed Hummingbird. I
heard several species that never showed themselves--Song and Chipping Sparrows
and Canyon Wrens.
A Plumbeous Vireo offered great views and I
watched it forage in a pine tree while singing its burry sing-song. I
especially liked to watch the vireo because it allowed me protracted views in
comparison to the busy birds I'd been watching. The vireo hopped
about at a measured pace throughout the tree and even paused out in the sunlight
for me to study its spectacles and degree of gray across its crown, back, and
tail.
Be sure to stop at the switchback called Lee
Pass (not Lee Pass Trailhead). This is a GREAT place for
White-throated Swifts. In fact, I was passing through the switchback with
windows rolled down to listen for birds and I heard the swifts' robust,
descending, metallic twittering. I turned around, parked, and walked a
short distance up a trail and watched the cliff activity for
about 30 minutes. White-throated Swifts seemed to billow off the
cliff face at times. I saw several dozen, but of course, they're
impossible to count. I concentrated instead in catching them in good light
so I could see the geometric, contrasting black-and-white pattern on their
ventral sides.
While I was developing a good case of
White-throated Swift neck, a pair of Golden Eagles soared over the top of the
cliff. I passed on watching them in favor of the swifts. My priority
system says Golden Eagles are here year-round and I can watch them some
other time. The eagles got the last laugh at my choice. A little
later I caught sight of one of them perched at the top of a
precipice. While I watched, the eagle dropped over the edge toward me
without flapping. I saw the Thunderbird silhouette of indian lore and
legend. As the eagle rapidly lost altitude it pulled its wings into a
stoop and crossed the canyon in front of me. It swooped low to the
opposing canyon wall. Just as it reached the other side, it spread
its wings, flared, and landed on the rocks. I watched to see what held its
interest. The eagle's mate was already there, struggling with
something behind a small pine. Both birds eventually took off. One
of them held a small, pale brown object dangling in its talons--say, ground
squirrel- or cottontail rabbit-sized. So much for my not being interested
in the eagles in favor of the swifts.
The last thing that caught my interest at Lee Pass
was another raptor in a dive-bombing stoop against the red face of stone.
The bird's upper side was gray-blue and lower side was a pale, uniform
color. That's all I saw before the bird simply disappeared at the bottom
of the dive. I'd like to think it was a Peregrine Falcon, but since hope
is not a method of bird identification, the raptor will remain anonymous.
I later walked the 5.4-mile Taylor's Creek
trail. This trail is a one-way up and same way down excursion, but good
news--it's only uphill for half the total distance ;^D. Most of the birds
I saw along the trail were the same species as those along the scenic
drive. The trail hosted amazing numbers of Blue-gray Gnatcatchers,
Black-throated Grays, and especially, Virginia's Warblers. The Virginia's
sang all the way up and down. I could almost use the phrase, 'infested
with Virginia's', but that choice might be the result of a birder's irrational
exuberance. The Black-throated Grays were more common along the lower
portion. I also saw another titmouse and a single Bushtit
rattling its tiny chain to create that incessant clinking-chipping. There
were more singing vireos, Black-capped Chickadees, and I heard Canyon Wrens and
Mountain Chickadees.
The reward at the top of the trail was not a
bird--it was Double Arch Alcove. This tranquil spot is a cradle of red
rock streaked with black and green and cream. The opposing canyon wall
formed the fourth side of red rock and I was completely surrounded in
geologic beauty. I stood inside the cool, moist amphitheater and listened
to the tiny splats of dripping from the underside of the lower
arch. The sky above was a bright, irregular blue
trapezoid. Two jet-black ravens soared on the updraft at the top of the
canyon wall and added their far-away, hoarse croaking to the dripping
sound and the cool wind coursing through the pinion pines. The
tranquil moment offered a panoply of Dixie wonders and was the perfect last
impression of my visit.
Kris
|