Greater Prairie-Chickens!

As my date with the prairie-chicken blind approached, I watched the forecasted temperature drop, and drop, and drop. And in response, my packlist grew longer and longer. The weather could be worse, though.

4:30am: phone alarm goes off. I whip up a travel mug of cappuccino and hit the road. The weather is in line with the most recent predictions. Cold. A snow flurry turns into a decent snow shower as I head towards Rothsay, and in short stretches the windshield is almost whited out. Visibility continues to be an issue as I arrive at the parking place for the blind and head out on foot. I'm now very glad I scouted out the area the previous weekend so I can confidently walk straight while the glow of my flashlight is mostly exhausted by the falling, blowing snow; the reflective posts meant to guide birders to the blind were completely concealed. I arrived at the blind, began setting up, and realized I had left my cappuccino in the car.

By 5:49, I'm fully set up in the blind, and the wait isn't long. At 6:11, still dark, I see a chunky, winged silhouette descend into the mix of snow and grass about forty feet away. Then a few more. Then begins the haunting and hilarious sounds of the greater prairie-chicken courtship displays. The morning is already a success.

The wind howls on. The sun creeps over the horizon, casting its awesome "golden hour" effect for a sliver of a moment before ducking back into cloud cover. All the while, the prairie chickens dance, boom, strut, spar, sit and rest. It's incredible to watch and listen to.

I don't know if I've ever been so cold for so long--something I'm grateful to claim. I've been out in far worse temperatures, but the < 20F and the incessant midwestern winds had me doing my best chickadee impression in the blind. At 7:58, the prairie-chickens whirled away, leaving but two behind. As excited as I was by the birding action, I was excited to get out of the cold. But a short while later, the prairie chickens returned to the blind area. I certainly couldn't complain about a lack of the bird I was out to see!

At 8:41, the prairie chickens fled once more, and this time none remained. Hastily, I closed up the blind, flung my backpack and camera bags over my shoulders, and made my way to the warmer confines of my car.

It's approaching 11:30 as I wrap up this post, and I'm already looking forward to watching birds for Project FeederWatch tomorrow. I will definitely book another morning at the prairie-chicken blind in the coming years, and I will definitely make it for a later date in April or May.