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By Nic.Korte
Monday, December 7, 2015

There are “seven swans a swimming” in Mesa County as I write this. With Christmas on everyone’s minds, the title was a natural. Christmas comes every year, but it is unusual to have so many swans in our local waters. What’s even more exciting is that five of these are Trumpeter Swans. I don’t have all the records, but a quick check indicates Trumpeters have been sighted in Mesa County on less than 20 occasions. The electronic data base,, shows only two sightings since 1984. {These swans are at Highline Lake.}

One reason for a lack of reported sightings might be the difficulty of identification. “Oh, come on,” you might say. “Here’s a bird bigger than anything else on the water and it is pure white (if an adult), surely you can identify it!” I wish it were so easy. A few years ago, I was certain I had seen a Trumpeter Swan because the bird’s bill lacked a yellow spot characteristic of most Tundra Swans. I say most because when I returned home and read up on swan identification, I learned that 10% of Tundra swans do not have the yellow spot. LESSON LEARNED: DON’T BASE DIFFICULT IDENTIFICATIONS ON A SINGLE CHARACTERISTIC. I should have looked at the shape of the bill. I should have taken a photo. My camera was right next to me, but I was too excited to photograph the bird until I realized it was taking off.

Take off is quite a sight. For a Trumpeter Swan, becoming airborne requires lumbering across the water for about 100-yards. Trumpeter Swans can be distinguished from Tundra Swans on takeoff, if you know what to look for. It has to do with the neck position, but I was unfamiliar with that characteristic the time I thought I might have seen a Trumpeter. In the end, I had to consider that bird unidentified.

Trumpeter Swans are our biggest native waterfowl, stretching 6 ft in length and weighing more than 25 pounds—about twice the size of a Tundra Swan. If you are thinking, I should be able to tell the two swans apart by size, my response is that size is a notoriously difficult parameter to judge when viewing distant birds on the water. There is also a much greater difference in weight than in length. Tundra swans appear nearly 90% the size of a Trumpeter, so size when viewed at a distance, and without a comparison, is no help.(Two of the Trumpeter Swans at Highline Lake)

Trumpeter Swans are also a major conservation success story. In the 1930’s, there were <100 birds, all in the area of Yellowstone National Park. By 1968, numbers had rebounded to 3,700—by 2010, there were more than 46,000. The Federal Government established a refuge specifically for Trumpeters in Montana. Several state agencies also assisted in the recovery as did a private group, The Trumpeter Swan Society ( Their combined actions are responsible for the increase in population and the fact that these swans are reclaiming their former home range. A personal example exists in the St Louis, Missouri area, near where I was raised. Trumpeter Swans were unheard of until a few years ago. Now the combination of their population rebound and the establishment of the Riverlands Migratory Bird Sanctuary ( has resulted in as many as 1000 swans spending the winter just North of St Louis on the Mississippi. Federal funds established the sanctuary which is now managed, in part, by a local Chapter of the Audubon Society. 

Tundra swans are more common, and are typically seen every year here in the Grand Valley, although often they are only present for a few days. As I am writing this, there are two in some ponds near Whitewater and the Gunnison River, which combined with the five trumpeters yield “seven swans a swimming.” The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service estimates the North American population could be as much as 200,000 with ~100,000 in the eastern population and 60,000 -110,000 in the west. There is even a hunting season for Tundra Swans—which unfortunately, is a risk factor for Trumpeter Swans--as you can imagine from my discussion of the difficulty with identification.

Tundra Swans breed primarily on lakes, ponds and pools situated along river deltas in Alaska and Canada. Breeding birds need large wetlands and lakes with long shorelines that support pondweed. Increasingly, Tundra Swans rely on agricultural fields for subsistence during migration and winter. Hopefully, humans can continue to provide sufficient habitat and care to maintain stable populations of both of our native swans.

This post provided by Nic Korte, Grand Valley Audubon Society. Send questions/comments to]To learn more and to participate in the activities of Grand Valley Audubon, please see our website at and “like” us on Facebook!]




By Nic.Korte
Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Honestly, this effort is not evidence of my being lazy or too busy.

At this time of year, certain things are on our minds: turkeys, bird-feeding, and Christmas presents. I decided my blog should be about one of those topics. But, I had already written on those themes. I liked what I wrote, so here, they are again!

TURKEY: The Violent Turkey of the Grand Canyon ( ),

WHY WOULD ANYONE (ME?) HAVE SEVEN BIRDFEEDERS? Which one should you have? Which should you buy for a friend?  (,



For Christmas, buy your friends Shade-grown coffee, a book about the Birds of Western Colorado, or a membership in Grand Valley Audubon or the Bird Conservancy of the Rockies (


This post provided by Nic Korte, Grand Valley Audubon Society. Send questions/comments to]To learn more and to participate in the activities of Grand Valley Audubon, please see our website at and “like” us on Facebook!]



By Nic.Korte
Sunday, November 15, 2015

Anyone who knew my Dad is surprised by this title. As I recounted previously, my Dad never cared to learn that egrets and herons were not cranes (

(In honor of my Dad, lets call this Great Blue Heron a "crane.")

On the golf course, we would frequently see Killdeers, and no matter how many times I named them, he would say, “There goes a snipe!”

Dad enjoyed birds at his feeder, but to him I think there were three kinds: Cardinals, sparrows, and not-sparrows. When I was in Illinois to visit, I would often show him the difference between the non-native House Sparrows on the feeder, and the native White-throated Sparrows feeding underneath. He would nod appreciatively, but would have forgotten by my next visit. How could this man have taught me to watch birds?

I was raised in a small Southern Illinois farming community. My Dad had the only shoe store. He was from a large farming family. They were not well-off. In comparison, working at his store six-days and one evening a week was easy. There were no animals to care for. No outside chores on cold days. He never complained about all the hours he worked at the store, but I did. Like most of my peers, I wanted to go hunting whenever I could. I was gifted a 12-gauge shotgun for Christmas during my 8th grade year. My favorite hunting partner was my Dad, but he had almost no opportunity to go. My mom and two younger siblings also deserved his time. Sunday morning was for church leaving little or no time for Dad to go hunting with me. 

We did manage an occasional hunt for rabbits after church on Sunday morning. Unfortunately, my favorite hunting was for squirrels. Squirrel hunting is best if you are in position pre-dawn. Not only are squirrels more active at that time, but most days become breezy about 8:30 or 9 when seeing a squirrel moving in the trees becomes very difficult. Between church on Sunday and the store opening at 8AM every other day, squirrel hunting the way I wanted to do it, wasn’t possible for Dad.

(I "shot": this Illinois Fox squirrel with my camera.)

Dad and I went squirrel hunting only once.  It was before I left for my first or second year of college. I don’t recall if Dad opened late that day or, more likely, mom opened the store and my brother was left to watch our sister for a couple of hours.

I had hunted squirrels with friends, and a couple of times with one of Dad’s younger brothers. I was going to show Dad that I really knew what I was doing. After all, even if he’d hunted squirrels growing up, it had been more than 20 years by now.

We went to a “timber” that I knew well—or thought I did. With squirrel hunting, usually you hunt separately, as we did. I spent a lot of time describing the woods to Dad and telling him where he ought to try. We entered the woods and I suggested we meet back at the same place at a pre-determined time, probably about 9:30.

Here’s what I remember: I was excited. Squirrel hunting requires stealth with little movement. I knew that, but I had a difficult time sitting very long because after a few minutes of seeing nothing, I would begin to believe that the clump of hickory nut trees 50 yards away was probably better. I would move. I would see no squirrels for a few minutes, and begin to think that the oaks over the hill were better, and I would move again.

I kept in mind the locations I had told Dad to hunt so I didn’t move toward him.  After a while I heard a shot. I only have one good ear so I can’t tell direction of distant sounds. I assumed it was a hunter on an adjacent property. I kept moving from place-to-place. I never saw a squirrel. Eventually, I heard another shot. The idea that Dad might have taken these shots didn’t occur to me. My conviction was that on this morning, in this woods, the squirrels weren’t moving, or they had been hunted too hard and thinned out, or were too wary.  I was frustrated and anxious and a little late to our meeting location. I walked there, and looked for Dad. Then I saw him sitting—just where we had split up. I said, “Sorry, have you been waiting long?” He said, “No, I’ve just been sitting here.”  “Lousy hunting wasn’t it?” I said. To my amazement, he picked up two squirrels. 

How could this be? I was the mighty hunter who knew these woods. I quizzed him, “Where?” “How?” He said, “Right here.”  “Here?” I said in disbelief. It didn’t look a good place to me. I had told him where to find the Oaks and Hickories where the squirrels feed. There were big trees all around, but no nut trees.  Dad replied, “Well, this was a nice place to sit, and a nice morning, I liked just sitting and looking around. After a while, I saw a squirrel move. It came close enough so I shot it. I was comfortable, so I sat back down and after a while, another squirrel came into view so I shot that one too.”  

I had worn myself out trying every “great” place in the woods and had found only frustration. I hadn’t had a particularly good time. Dad clearly didn’t care if he saw or bagged a squirrel. Free time in the woods on a beautiful morning was a rare thing for him, and his priority was to enjoy being there.  I’ve never forgotten the lesson of that hunt. Sometimes when I’m watching or looking for birds, I get anxious, thinking the day may be a failure, or that I should be somewhere else. Often, I think of Dad and that squirrel hunt. I realize, I need to slow down. Sit down. Maybe this isn’t the best location, but sit down anyway. Something might happen. I’ve had some of my best bird and wildlife encounters that way. Thanks Dad!

 Our family lost this fine man a few weeks at the age of 91. He had a good life. We miss him.

This post provided by Nic Korte, Grand Valley Audubon Society. Send questions/comments to]To learn more and to participate in the activities of Grand Valley Audubon, please see our website at and “like” us on Facebook!]




By Nic.Korte
Wednesday, November 4, 2015

80%, 70% 95%...Pete Marra, head of the Smithsonian Migratory Bird Center, is ticking off population declines for many once-common grassland birds. “This IS the Sixth Extinction folks,” he says. “You are watching it.” These sobering comments were uttered during a recent lecture I attended at the Denver History Center. Dr. Marra’s visit was sponsored by the Bird Conservancy of the Rockies (, a group doing very important work regarding public education, private land partnerships and research regarding bird species under threat.

The status of many grassland birds is truly dire. When you drive through a grassland area—or more likely, a former grassland—that is now heavily grazed or cropped, you may see a bird fly up or sit on a wire. The bird could be a remnant of a once thriving population of native grassland species, but it is more likely a colonist—a bird well-adapted to farming and heavy grazing. To an ecologist or an ornithologist, that bird observation tells a much larger story. To most people, however, it is just a bird.

The great conservationist and writer, Aldo Leopold, referred to “the penalty of an ecological education.” That penalty, he said, was like “living alone in a world of wounds.” He would see wounds on the landscape that were invisible to others.

After the somber beginning, Pete Marra’s talk took on a different tenor. He described how much we have learned in the past few years, and how this knowledge can be the key to ensuring the survival of these species. That was the “We can do this!” portion of his talk. Important examples were provided later in the program when two Eastern Colorado ranchers rather humorously described their initial (quite negative) reactions to learning their property harbored species at risk of extinction.

Their final comments, however, were happy ones. Usually, good stewardship of ranchland can be compatible with protecting a species. One rancher recounted that his family had lived on their property for three generations and never knew they were providing homes for endangered Mountain Plovers. At first, they were far from happy about it. 


What about now? 2016 will see the 10th Annual Karval, Colorado Mountain Plover Festival ( held the last weekend in April. Attendees are invited to stay with ranching families or camp on their property. Authentic ranch-style food and entertainment are provided—as is, of course, ample opportunity to view wildlife, such as the endangered Mountain Plover.

Some especially good birds, besides the namesake species, that have been observed at recent festivals include: Broad-winged Hawks, Nashville Warbler, Cassin’s Sparrow and Grasshopper Sparrow.


There is a lot more to the festival than birds and wildlife. Some of these families have been in place for generations, and have great stories to share. Attendance at the festival combines support for wildlife, with support for a human way of life that most of us admire and hope to see persist. Check out their website and plan to attend. (Check the website for the Bird Conservancy of the Rockies, which has been instrumental in saving some of Colorado's excellent Mountain Plover habitat. Lend your support to their important work.)

This post provided by Nic Korte, Grand Valley Audubon Society. Send questions/comments to [To learn more and to participate in the activities of Grand Valley Audubon, please see our website at and “like” us on Facebook!]



By Nic.Korte
Saturday, October 24, 2015

A good friend of mine, and one of the best birders in Colorado--and the world--told me that he thought, of all the states, Colorado might have more great birders per capita. Why would that be true? 

In my previous post, I talked about favorite birds in Western Colorado. As I write, my wife and I are driving to the Midwest where I have some consulting work near Kansas City. Later, we will visit my family in Illinois. (Many years of car-traveling together to work locations have made me more or less immune to car-sickness, and able to work/write while my wife drives. She also believes she is safer not having to risk my distractibility as I tend to look for birds when at the wheel.)

Although our destination tomorrow is Kansas City, we won't be taking the southward swing of I-70 east of Denver. Instead, we will continue due east on highway 36 heading for the tiny town of Idalia which isn't too far from where Colorado meets Kansas and Nebraska. Last year, south of Idalia, I found a Sprague's Pipit--a declining species of the prairie grasslands. I had some dissatisfying views of one in flight. I am hoping for a better view this time. Two days ago, someone reported seeing six.
(Sprague's Pipit [] Sprague's Pipits have been determined to be threatened or endangered, but are not listed because of lack of funding.)

Sprague's Pipits nest along the US-Canadian border and in Canada's Prairie Provinces. They mostly winter south of the US, and only pass through Colorado during migration. For several years, a reliable location during September and October has been a small hill on heavily-grazed state land a few miles from the Kansas border. The location even goes by the informal name of Pipit Hill. For some reason, the east side of this small hill has not been pulverized by the cattle, and consists of short-grass prairie and a tussock-like environment of tiny shrubs favored by the pipits.

In previous posts about our Grand Junction area, I mentioned birds that are difficult to find elsewhere in the state such as Chukar and Western Screech-owl. In between these Western species and my hoped-for pipits, are the mountains with their own complement of birds ranging from alpine obligates such as White-tailed Ptarmigan and the near-endemic Brown-capped Rosy-Finch ( to lower elevation specialties such as American Three-toed Woodpeckers, Flammulated Owls, and Hammond's Flycatchers. 

(This American Three-toed Woodpecker was photographed on Grand Mesa.)

Thus, it is Colorado's considerable biodiversity, ranging from high mountains to desert canyons to prairie grasslands, that accounts for the many expert birders choosing our state as a home base. The state's large reservoirs, perhaps a topic for a future blog, also provide habitat for many annual rarities.

How many species have been officially accepted on Colorado's state list? An impressive 499! Compared to the rest of the country, only Alaska, coastal states such as California and Oregon, and states with some tropical habitat such as Arizona, Texas and Florida exceed Colorado. Arguably we have as much or more diversity of landscape than virtually any other state; no wonder birders flock here.

Like most birdwatchers, I keep track of what birds I find, so I know how many species I have seen in Colorado--313. A quick perusal of ebird ( shows me that the leader in the state has 468 (and counting!). I barely make the top 100, and there may well be 100 or more additional birders who don't use ebird, or haven't had time to update their records. Fortunately, birding is never a competition for me, but it is fun to live where I will always have the possibility of seeing something new.

Postscript: The Sprague's Pipits did not disappoint. I saw, perhaps a half-dozen identified by their call, their undulating flight, and their habit of folding their wings and dropping out of the sky when landing. Best of all, after many tries, I had some good views of one on the ground.

This post provided by Nic Korte, Grand Valley Audubon Society. Send questions/comments to [To learn more and to participate in the activities of Grand Valley Audubon, please see our website at and “like” us on Facebook!]

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