So in order to improve my chances of actually making it to the finish line I decided to spend a week out in Colorado acclimating to the altitude, a great excuse (as if I needed one) to seek out some much-wanted western lifers.
I just returned from a week-long trip to Colorado, and although I spent most of that time birding, it was actually not the main reason behind the trip. You see, I have this crazy plan to run a marathon in all 50 states. I was sidelined from serious running for a year and a half after a freak accident involving a second-story deck, but finally this year I was ready to sign up for what I see as my "comeback" marathon. Something possessed me to choose the Leadville Trail Marathon as my first post-deck-collapse marathon: a trail race that starts in Leadville, CO (at 10,000 ft) and climbs up to Mosquito Pass (13,000+ ft) with a net elevation gain of roughly 6,000 ft throughout the race, much of it on rocky trails scarcely less treacherous than the surrounding scree slopes. Ummm... right.
So in order to improve my chances of actually making it to the finish line I decided to spend a week out in Colorado acclimating to the altitude, a great excuse (as if I needed one) to seek out some much-wanted western lifers.
My adventure began when I left Arkansas early on June 24th. The drive was pretty uneventful, a couple of a good sightings including Great Horned Owl and Striped Skunk in the predawn darkness, and an Upland Sandpiper somewhere in Oklahoma. I arrived in the late afternoon to John Martin Reservoir in southeastern Colorado and set up my brand-new 1-person tent. The campsites were set among some large cottonwood trees, and the songs of Warbling Vireo (eastern subspecies) and Lark Sparrow greeted me on arrival. A pair of Bullock's Orioles was nesting right in my campsite, and from my picnic table I spotted Red-headed Woodpecker, Eastern Bluebird and Yellow-billed Cuckoo, all new for my Colorado list.
After a hurried dinner of cold canned chili (too lazy/hot to bother with my camp stove) I drove out to the south end of the reservoir to have a look around. I walked along the sandy trails, passing through sagebrush plains and willow thickets. It was fairly quiet, a Cassin's Sparrow gave a single flight song, while in the willows a few Northern Mockingbirds sang and more Bullock's Orioles chattered. I reached the shore of the reservoir and scanned in vain for Piping Plovers and Least Terns, finding only Killdeer and campers. I returned to my car and found a surprise waiting for me- as I flipped through my field guide, I looked up just in time to see two Scaled Quail running across the road, crests erect and colors stunning in the early evening light- one of my main targets!
Buoyed by this (honestly) unexpected success, I drove around to the marsh on the north side of the reservoir and waited impatiently for dusk to arrive so I could try for my second target- Black Rail. My expectations of success were (again, honestly) rather low, but I figured I'd give it a good try. The marsh was filled with the cacophony of Red-winged Blackbirds, the sweet songs of Yellow Warblers and Common Yellowthroats, and the occasional calls of Virginia Rails. As the evening shadows began to creep out over the marsh, I put on my rubber boots, grabbed my headlamp, flashlight, and mp3 player with speakers, and stepped out into muck. There was a shallow, open area of dead vegetation, and I worked my way along this for a while before decided to give the player a try. Somewhat to my surprise, a Black Rail soon called in response from deep within one of the expansive, thick stands of cattail. I crept rather ungracefully through the cattails towards the sound, getting as close as I dared before stopping. I played the tape off and on, and the rail responded first from one direction, then another, then maddeningly close. I stood as still as possible, trying my best to ignore the mosquitoes that were beginning to feast on me. Finally I tried another technique- I set my speakers down and back up a few feet. Soon I was rewarded with glimpses of a small dark head- I guess that was the best I could hope for, and I decided I had bothered this guy enough.
I was going to leave it at that, but I heard several other Black Rails calling and decided I'd try for a better look. Turns out I should have taken my camera! The next one responded immediately, giving crippling views as it circled around right underneath my feet, showing off its speckled back and chestnut nape in the light of my flashlight! Amazed, satisfied, and thoroughly mosquito-bitten, I returned to my tent for bed.
Congratulations on nailing the Black Crake - sounds like it was the hard earned jewel of your first evening's "acclimatisation".
Looking forward to hearing more.
Cheers
Mike