April 17, 2010
Milnesand, New Mexico
5:00-8:00 AM
The sky in that particular patch of New Mexico was even bigger than in Lubbock because the land was so flat. It was a massive blue bowl full of clouds. Standing in fields of prairie grass, all faded yellow waves, we were surrounded by the clouds, by towering blue mountains in the sky, a world of blue hues.
The tents looked silly in the daytime, especially because we were camping in someone's backyard. But at night they were beautiful and mysterious--they were glowing blue, green, and grey mounds in the dark, flashlight islands that quivered like flames in the wind.
The people of Milnesand were very kind and friendly and amazing cooks. I knew we would be fed while we were there, but I didn't expect there to be vegetarian accommodations, nor did I expect to love the meals.
I sat with Laura and a group of smiling strangers. It was amazing to get a glimpse into this world. The people we met were serious birders who shared really cool stories with us.
Notes on the Prairie Chickens:
>pending, left them at home<
Retiring at last to our flashlight island, I made a few phone calls, smiled when I heard screams from another tent (later to learn they were telling ghost stories), wrote a letter, and went to sleep.
4:30 AM comes fast.
Up, up, up! Hurry, hurry, hurry! The Prairie Chickens won't wait!
I'm slow-natured. I do everything slowly. So I was scrambling to get ready and barely made it to my van in time. But, thanks to Laura, I did.
We rode down dirt roads, past gate after gate in the morning dark. Finally the van lazed to a stop near a lek.
Waiting.
First you hear them. The Prairie Chickens' cooing in the dark, a sound like laughter. I couldn't help but think it sounded sinister, those gently rising, sneaking cackles.
Gradually, the sun rises and you notice spots of brown moving. I felt silly when I finally saw them--they were everywhere. Perhaps ten males and two females, all scurrying around bobbing heads, puffing orange air-sacks, twirling pinnae feathers, stomping feet, jumping, flapping wings, fanning their tail feathers.
All the males gather and dance to impress the females. The females will choose only one male, and then the two go off to make a nest.
They're such silly birds, but they're so serious. Before the trip, I didn't understand why this was so special, but now I do.
All the males hopping around, the females walking about looking bored. I loved it! It was amazing to me that there was no violence; the males never attacked each other and never attacked the females as some animals do. Instead, the males sometimes had stand-offs. They would face each other and make that laughing sound, bob their heads, and sometimes jump over each other. Never touching, one of them always backed away.
I didn't get any good sketches. I tried, but somehow the graphite seemed pathetic to me. Was I really trying to sketch this? I didn't want to spend my time looking at paper and my silly pencil marks. Instead, I just watched them.
When we returned to a big, delicious breakfast, everyone was talking about the Prairie Chickens. It was a good year; everyone saw some for a substantial amount of time. Some people were moved to tears.
Next up, the service project!
I was hoping for some happy manual labor, but not this time. This time we were marking fences, which was still fun and rewarding.
Many Prairie Chickens die from hitting barbed wire fences; they get tunnel vision as they race away from a predator and don't see the fence, flying straight into it. The predators are often injured or killed, as well; they have the same tunnel vision problem where their focus is completely set on their prey and nothing else.
And so we set forth down the road with buckets of white plastic markers, tagging fences to make them more visible to the Chickens and predators (because the markings help them, too).
Laura and I had great conversations as we went. We worked calmly, talking and enjoying the sky and the gentlest kiss of rain.
"Tracey... I think I see a snake," she said after a while.
"Really?"
"Yeah. I think we should move away."
Calmly, we walked around the spot she indicated and moved past it from higher ground. We came back down close to the fence and I cautiously approached the place where we left off. Just a few feet away, I saw it--a rattlesnake curled up in the grass. Our friend was pretty small and seemed to be having a nice nap.
I love snakes. Laura and I were really excited about this great opportunity to see our first rattle snake. We watched him/her for a few moments and then moved on quietly.
When lunch time swung around, we had marked 4 miles of fence. All for you, Prairie Chickens! <3
We returned to another delicious meal, and another exciting sight. A golden eagle. I don't mean in the sky. I mean 3 feet away.
A man there had a captive golden eagle perched in the back of his van. He told us he caught him because he'd been hunting a farmer's cattle. Golden eagles are a protected species, so the farmer was prohibited from killing it. The problem was solved by catching him.
The man used thick elk leather gloves to handle him. His talons are lethal; there were evident scratch marks on the gloves.
I was in awe. The eagle was huge. He was breathtakingly beautiful with his watchful eyes. I felt grateful to see something so amazing, but also sad for him that he was no longer free.
The last thing we saw before we left was a sheep dog presentation. We watched a group of sheep wander under the watch of a beautiful Border Collie. The man who handled the group explained some of the basic commands to us.
Then it was off to pack up the tents.
I almost didn't go on the trip because I was sick. In the end, I was very glad I went--it was absolutely worth it.
You are a fine writer.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much. I appreciate that.
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