30 December 2021
How this Green Big Year ended was bittersweet and completely unexpected. It was also a terrible day as entire neighborhoods burned to the ground in Boulder County in an almost unbelievable (but not an unsurprising) fire, fueled by 80-100+ mph winds. I was seeing reports of a couple fires in Boulder County, which were 25-30 miles to our north, but I didn't know the extent of what was going on. I had planned to work the rest of the afternoon since my morning/day birding plan was thwarted by the wind forecast, but I decided to go for a walk instead. I walked to my patch (Clement Park) to see what the smoke plume from the Boulder county fire(s) looked like. It felt a little wrong to go see what was happening, but I also assumed it was just a grass fire at this point because I didn't know where the fire was precisely. The winds, at times, were pretty strong on top of the hill at the park, but the 360 degree view from the top is pretty amazing. The dust being kicked up to the south and southwest almost looked like something you'd expect to see on the beach or in the desert on a windy day.
The winds were howling at times, while at other times they were completely calm. The smoke plume was pretty extensive, and by the shape and height of the plume, it was clearly being blown east by very strong winds. The smoke was black, which should have told me it was structures burning and not just grass.
Anyway, I noticed several hundred gulls on the mostly frozen reservoir, which was odd as I hadn't seen more than 75 or so for the last few weeks. Instead of going home, I walked down to the lake shore to look through the gulls and see if I can find anything other than a Ring-billed Gull. I was on the sandy/dirt shoreline on the east side of the reservoir and it got very calm. The winds had been 20-30 mph with stronger gusts at times. Yet it became completely calm. The calm and overall ambiance was quite eerie honestly. The calmness felt so strange with the big gusts we were having now and again which gave me flashbacks of the time a buddy and I rode out Hurricane Katrina (on the west side and we were 150 miles inland, but it was still wicked!).
As I was scanning the gulls in complete calm, I heard a very distinct raspy, harsh two-note call just about overhead. I immediately thought, "What the heck was that?" But quickly realized, upon hearing it a second time, that it was a SNOW BUNTING! I heard the two-note call three more times, and in spite of frantically trying to find the bird overhead, I never saw it. Maddening! I even put on my sunglasses real quick, which are polarized and are often very helpful in finding birds I hadn't otherwise seen. No dice. I walked all over the shoreline hoping to flush the bird, but the strong winds returned. It was pointless. I walked one last pass along the shoreline and then down the berm that is supposed to hold the reservoir in, but it never really plays that purpose for a variety of reasons. I was nearly blown off and sandblasted at the same time. It got really wicked out there, so I booked it home. I can't imagine trying to fight a wildfire in something like that. It's no surprise the Boulder fire was so catastrophic.
Just last week I had listened to a lot of Snow Bunting calls in preparation for trying to relocate the bird Steve Mlodinow had at Aurora Reservoir. If you recall, I rode 72 miles for a Red-necked Grebe the previous week, but I was also on alert for the Snow Bunting in the area. If there's one thing I've learned as a birder over the years is that you should expect the unexpected and be prepared for the unlikely bird. Know your birds. And know your bird calls. If you know me and have ever birded with me, you know I'm an ear birder! I don't know every call or flight note, of course, but I'm constantly listening for birds near and distant when out birding, or when talking with neighbors while shoveling snow, drinking beer and cooking on my griddle in the yard with, or really any time I'm outside doing anything. I'm always listening. :)
My preparation paid off big time on this one though. I had spent significant time preparing for a flyover or for flushing a Snow Bunting over the last couple weeks. Although I don't have much experience with Snow Buntings, having only seen/heard them a few times, being prepared is priceless. The time I spent listening to call of similar yet different species like Lapland Longspur, Common Redpoll, and others paid dividends.
As frustrating as it was not seeing the Snow Bunting, having those minutes of calm in which I very clearly heard the bird call five times was incredible. Of course I was excited and I frantically checked my bird apps to make sure I had the ID right. I was excited, but I also quickly heard about the devastation in Louisville and Superior and my enthusiasm waned. I wondered if I know anyone directly who lost their home. I wondered if everyone made it out of the flames. My wife works every other Thursday in a doctors office attached to the hospital in Louisville that was evacuated, but fortunately this was her Thursday in another office. Luckily the hospital didn't burn down, but it sustained significant smoke damage and is closed for a while.
I told a few friends about the Snow Bunting, but didn't bother to submit an eBird report until the next morning. I realize it made no difference since surely the bird was gone and no one was going to be chasing in the last 45 min of daylight in tropical storm force winds. It just didn't feel right to report the bird when way more important and tragic things were going on in the area.
The interesting part of the entire situation is that I had been walking the extensive shoreline at Clement Park for the last couple weeks hoping to find a Snow Bunting. I was just walking and hoping, just with little to no hope, of actually finding a Snow Bunting. I never thought it'd actually happen as finding one is completely against the odds. But this is also why you go out looking for birds. You don't find good birds if you don't go look. I have proven that point many times over this year! And I ended the year with a prime example of the value of knowing bird vocalizations, knowing what to look for, when and where to look, and simply spending time in the field pays dividends. Of course, those who pledged per species for my green year probably wished I'd just stayed home at this point!
What a bittersweet way to get the last bird of the big year. I couldn't have scripted a better end to the year (but we could do without the fire!). It was amazing to have a self found local mega-rarity to end the year. The Snow Bunting is the 3rd eBird record for Jefferson County, my first in the county (only because I didn't bother to chase a bird that stuck around for a week or so a couple years ago), a new bird for my patch (all time Clement Park bird #181!), and Green Big Year bird #285. There was some weird Joe luck happening this day! I'll take it! Unfortunately, and not unsurprisingly, the bird wasn't seen again the next day.
I mean why wouldn't a snow bunting drop in here at some point????
This is the view the next morning (Dec 31) during the fruitless search.
The last morning of the Big Year.
Green Big Year species list: 285
Miles ridden: 3,125
Elevation gain in 2021: 128,000 ft
# of trips to Chatfield State Park: 45
2021 Joe Roller Memorial Green Big Year Species List
Thanks for reading!
Scott
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