I’m not a true birdwatcher, but I watch birds just the same. Sometimes I focus my attention on game birds, like shortly before the upland seasons start. There are a hefty number of sharptail grouse populations around my house, and I always like to know where they are as we get close to the opener for the season.
I also keep my eyes peeled for them this time of year. There are a few leks in my neighborhood, and I keep trying to get some good pictures of their courtship rituals.
But it’s not just game birds. I also like to see the migrations of birds we only see once in a while as they come through in the spring on their way to cooler climes or in the fall on their way back to tropical locations. It’s always neat to see hundreds of mountain bluebirds when they seem to just materialize out here on the open prairies.
My dad has long been the one I turn to when I see a strange new bird I can’t quite identify. He’s been interested in birds as long as I can remember, and he’s an encyclopedia of bird identification and behavior. But now I have another source, too. My oldest son just finished an ornithology class at the University of Wyoming, and he has rapidly learned a great deal about all the birds you’d be likely to see in Wyoming. It was fun having him home over the weekend, when we had a migration of Cassin’s finches roll through. I had long thought what I was seeing was house finches, but Colby set me straight and pointed out the differences. He showed me there are a lot more varieties of birds around our high plains home than I had previously believed.
So I guess I’ll dig out the Sibley again and learn a few new facts. There are worse ways to spend a spring afternoon.
