Time To Say Goodbye

tanjabrittonwriter 43 Comments

…to our winter waterfowl. Most overwintering species have taken off in the last several weeks for their breeding grounds in more northern latitudes, even though a few stragglers are still lingering, and some will not leave at all.

Es ist an der Zeit, auf Wiedersehen zu unseren Winterwassergästen zu sagen. Die meisten hier überwinternden Entenarten haben sich in den vergangenen Wochen in nördlichere Gefilde zu ihren Brutstätten aufgemacht, obwohl einige noch hinterherhinken, und manche uns überhaupt nicht verlassen werden.

Time not only to say goodbye, but thank you. When many birds fly south and leave a gaping void in autumn, this void is filled, at least partly, by the arrival of an assortment of ducks, whose presence brightens the short, dark days of my least favorite season.

Es ist nicht nur an der Zeit, auf Wiedersehen zu sagen, sondern auch Dankeschön. Denn wenn viele unserer Vögel im Herbst gen Süden fliegen, und eine gähnende Leere hinterlassen, wird diese Leere wenigstens teilweise von einer Auswahl an Enten gefüllt, deren Präsenz die kurzen, dunklen Tage meiner unbeliebtesten Jahreszeit erhellen.

I will not provide details about life cycles or migratory routes of the individuals presented here, which are available in any printed or online birding guide, other than to say that most ducks who spend the winter here, arrive between September and November, and leave again between February and April, when they point their beaks north, some as far north as the Canadian or Alaskan Arctic, where they will mate, incubate their eggs, and care for their young.

Ich beschränke mich auf wenige Details der Lebenszyklen und Wanderrouten der hier vorgestellten Individuen, die in jedem gedruckten oder computerbasierten Vogelführer zu finden sind. Die meisten Entenvögel, die hier den Winter verbringen, kommen zwischen September und November an, und verlassen uns zwischen Februar und April. Dann richten sie ihre Schnäbel gen Norden, teilweise bis ins arktische Kanada oder Alaska, wo sie sich paaren, ihre Gelege hüten, und ihren Nachwuchs aufziehen.

Without having conducted any scientific research or consulted any statistical data, my impression is that Mallards are the most common ducks not only in El Paso County, but possibly in the country. They are year-round residents, but I include them in my review because the males’ conspicuous colors and the females’ conspicuous quacks are a joy to behold any time of the year.

Ohne wissenschaftliche Studien betrieben oder statistische Tabellen konsultiert zu haben, sind Stockenten wahrscheinlich die häufigsten Enten nicht nur hier im Bezirk, sondern im ganzen Land. Sie gehören zu unseren Standvögeln, aber ich erwähne sie trotzdem, weil die bunten Farben des Erpels und das auffällige Quaken seiner Dame zu jeglicher Jahreszeit Freude bereiten.

To enlarge a photo, click on it. To read its caption, hover cursor over it.

Zum Vergrößern, das Bild bitte anklicken. Um den Titel zu lesen, mit der Maus darüber schweben.

Mallard, male in the back, female in the front
Mallard, male

 Gadwall might be the least distinctive of all our ducks, but I like their understated style.

Schnatterenten zählen vielleicht zu den unauffälligsten Enten, aber mir gefällt ihr dezenter Stil.

Gadwall, female on the left, male on the right
Gadwall, male

American Wigeons always put me in a good mood. The males have a gorgeous green eye patch and white crown, a feature responsible for their old name, “baldpate.” Their whistling calls enliven any winter lake.

Nordamerikanische Pfeifenten machen immer gute Laune. Die Männchen haben einen großartigen grünen Augenstreif und eine weiße Krone, die für ihren alten Namen, Kahlkopf, verantwortlich war. Ihr Pfeifen belebt jeden winterlichen See.

American Wigeon, mixed group
American Wigeon, male in the back, female in the front
American Wigeon, male on the left, female on the right
American Wigeon, male
American Wigeon, female

Any bird with a head this color will automatically become a favorite: Meet the Redhead.

Jeglicher Vogel mit einer solchen Kopffärbung ist automatisch beliebt. Darf ich vorstellen: Die Rotkopfente.

Redhead, male in the front, female in the back
Redhead, male

Canvasbacks resemble Redheads, but note the different shape of the head. I think they look particularly graceful.

Riesentafelenten ähneln Rotkopfenten, doch ist die Kopfform unterschiedlich. Ich finde sie besonders graziös.

Canvasback, male on the right, female on the left
Canvasback, two males

Ruddy Ducks are only ruddy during the breeding season when the male is nearly red (see first photo) with a blue beak (see second photo).

Schwarzkopf-Ruderenten sind nur während der Brutsaison rot (siehe erstes Photo), und das Männchen bekommt einen blauen Schnabel (siehe zweites Photo).

Ruddy duck, male, snoozing
Ruddy Duck, breeding male on the left, nonbreeding male on the right

Lesser Scaup are quite common and can be confused with their cousin, Greater Scaup. I have trouble telling them apart. I think these are Lesser Scaup. 🙂

Kleine Bergenten sind häufig zu sehen und können mit (Großen) Bergenten verwechselt werden. Ich glaube, hier handelt es sich um kleine. 🙂

Lesser Scaup, male in the front, female in the back
Lesser Scaup, male

Ring-necked Ducks are similarly patterned as Lesser Scaup, but notice the white vertical crescent along the flank of the male. They should really be called Ring-billed Ducks, as the ring around the neck can only be seen when the bird is dead, and the ring around the beak when the bird is alive.

Halsringenten ähneln kleinen Bergenten, aber die Männchen haben einen weißen vertikalen Halbmond an der Flanke. Ringschnabelente wäre eine bessere Bezeichnung, denn der Ring am Hals ist nur an toten Enten zu sehen, doch der Ring am Schnabel, an lebendigen.

Ring-necked Duck, male in the front, female in the back
Ring-necked Duck, female

Common Goldeneye do their name justice.

Schellenten machen ihrem Namen im Englischen Ehre (Goldaugen). Ich weiß nicht, worauf sich der deutsche Name bezieht. 

Common Goldeneye, female in the front, male in the back
Common Goldeneye, female

Bufflehead are so called because the massive bulbous head of the male reminded someone of buffalo. They are great divers and seem to spend more time under the water than on top.

Büffelkopfenten erinnerten die ersten Beschreiber an Büffel. Sie sind gute Taucher und scheinen mehr Zeit unter Wasser zu verbringen als obendrauf.

Bufflehead, male on the left, female on the right
Bufflehead, male

Common Mergansers are anything but common. The classy appearance of the three males gliding through the featured photo above, as well as the females’ headdress should convince you, too.

Gänsesäger sind bemerkenswert, wie die klassischen Klamotten der Herren ganz oben im Bild und der fantastische Kopfputz der Damen beweisen.

Common Merganser, male in the front, female in the back
Common Merganser, female

Hooded Mergansers also wear great hairdos and are a beautiful adornment to any body of water.

Auch Kappensäger haben faszinierende Frisuren und sind Zierde eines jeglichen Gewässers.

Hooded Merganser, male on the left, female on the right
Hooded Merganser, two females

Green-winged Teals are our smallest ducks, but this can only be appreciated when seen next to other waterfowl.

Amerikanische Krickenten sind unsere kleinsten Enten, aber das sieht man eigentlich nur im Vergleich mit anderen Wasservögeln.

Green-winged Teal, male
Green-winged Teal, female

Northern Pintails are elegance personified. Enough said.

Spießenten sind von erlesener Eleganz. Mehr ist dazu nicht zu sagen.

Northern Pintail, two males
Northern Pintail, males and females

Last, but not least, Northern Shovelers. The size of their bills is astounding. They often go round and round in circles while dabbling in the water, which has led me to call them the “Whirling Dervishes.”

Zu guter Letzt: Löffelenten. Ihre Schnäbel sind frappant. Sie drehen sich so oft im Kreis während sie gründeln, daß ich sie tanzende Derwische getauft habe.

Northern Shoveler, male
Northern Shoveler, female
The Whirling Dervishes

Spring migration, while it promises the arrival of those feathered friends that left us last fall, also means the departure of our darling ducks. It’s time not only to say goodbye and thank you, but also good luck. Good luck with all the challenges that await you. I hope with all my heart to welcome you and your offspring again later this year.

Auch wenn der Frühjahrszug die Ankunft der gefiederten Freunde verheißt, die uns vergangenen Herbst verlassen haben, bedeutet er auch die Abreise unserer entzückenden Enten. Es ist nicht nur an der Zeit, auf Wiedersehen und Dankeschön zu sagen, sondern auch viel Glück. Viel Glück mit all den Herausforderungen, die auf Euch warten. Ich hoffe von ganzem Herzen, Euch und Euren Nachwuchs später im Jahr wieder willkommen zu heißen.

Glassy Surprises

tanjabrittonwriter 43 Comments

Colorado Springs‘ Fine Arts Center had long been on my „must see“ list, and when it offered free visitation in March, I finally filled this glaring gap in my education. I wanted to explore at least two exhibits, one permanent, the other temporary, but otherwise had no preconceived notions. Incidentally, the museum will celebrate its centenary throughout this year, having originated as the Broadmoor Arts Academy in 1919.

Immediately upon entering the lobby, my attention was riveted by the Medusa-like light fixture featured above, but the title Chihuly Chandelier didn’t mean anything to me. Later, when I strolled into a darkened gallery highlighted and illuminated by an array of additional glass art, I learned about world-renowned (where have I been?) American glass artist, Dale Chihuly (born 1941), whose designs have dazzled viewers everywhere. They certainly dazzled me, and I became an instant fan. Additional research revealed that a 1976 accident resulted in blindness in the artist’s left eye. The associated loss of depth perception and a subsequent shoulder dislocation both affected his ability to blow glass, and forced him to limit himself to designing, rather than fashioning his art. According to a quote on Wikipedia, Chihuly describes his role as “more choreographer than dancer, more supervisor than participant, more director than actor.”

The Persian Wall Installation was arranged by the artist in 2006 and emulates some of the oldest surviving ancient glasswork from the Persian Empire of the 5th and 4th centuries BC. Concentric circles in contrasting colors captivate and charm.

Macchias are glass bowls characterized by spots (macchia is Italian for spot, from Latin macula). Countless color combinations make each one of these calyx-like structures unique, and assorted varieties resting on pedestals form so-called macchia forests.

The focal point of the room was the Orange Hornet Chandelier, composed of 384 pieces, which add up to a weight of 1200 pounds. In addition to hornets, it reminded me of ristras (from Latin restis, for rope or cord), decorative strings of red chili peppers popular in the American Southwest. The ponderous taper, first installed in Venice in 1993 as a smaller incarnation, had additional elements added specifically for the Fine Arts Center, to commemorate its 2007 reopening after a major expansion.

For the same occasion, the museum’s café was adorned with a third luster, the Gilded Blue Sapphire Chandelier, a cerulean dream with golden touches.

My outing reminded me that chance meetings are often the best. Encountering Chihuly’s creations was a wonderful surprise, and in this instance my ignorance was indeed my bliss.

Thus Endeth March

tanjabrittonwriter 49 Comments

I should be accustomed to Colorado’s idiosyncratic climate by now, but it still takes me by surprise. The last week of March was a case in point. Maybe the month had lost track of time, or wanted to prove that it, too, can be as moody as changeling April. Monday started mild, with seasonal temperatures and friendly weather, but by Thursday, we approached near record-breaking 70 + degrees Fahrenheit and a risk of prairie fires in parts of the state because of associated winds. While most of us gratefully swiveled our faces toward the warm sun like the blossoms of the few blooming flowers, we were forewarned to gird ourselves against the vicissitudes of the season.

To enlarge a photo, click on it. To read its caption, hover cursor over it.

View of the mountains early in the week/Bergblick anfang der Woche
Last year’s still colorful vegetation/Bunte Überbleibsel vom vergangenen Jahr

Sure enough, Friday brought clouds and a chill, driving everybody back indoors. A thunderclap announced more impending changes. Small (thank goodness) kernels of hail, and a tornado that touched down about 25 miles east of here, were the first harbingers of unsettled spring conditions, but were followed by a reminder that winter is not yet willing to give up its rule entirely, when a few hours later, wet, heavy flakes dropped from a low, gray sky. Frosty Saturday did not bring a single glimpse of the sun. On Sunday, the last day of March, it managed to burn a window into the clouds for a few hours, before a somber veil was once again pulled across the sky, which released intermittent squalls of snow.

Frosty fungus/Frost auf dem Pilz
Fresh snow in the mountains/frischer Schneefall in den Bergen
Fresh snow/frischer Schneefall

Is it any wonder that one’s emotions follow the ups and downs of this meteorologic roller-coaster ride? Spring at the fringe of the Rocky Mountains seems a long time coming. Nightly frosts retard the growth of plants, and winter’s desiccated vegetation still dominates the scenery. There are hopeful hues of greening grass, and the hyacinths and daffodils in front of the house have unfurled their pretty petals—only to have their noses bitten by frost, as is the case each year. The wildflowers know better, and are not fooled by wrong promises.

Hyacinth with ice crystals/Hyazinthe mit Eiskristallen
Hyacinth/Hyazinthe
Daffodil/Osterglocke

Spring migration, always a balm for the soul, has not yet fully started. Each new avian arrival is greeted with a happy heart, but the number of new birds does not yet equal or surpass that of the birds that have left us, or soon will leave us, for their summer breeding grounds.

Scrub Jay, year-round resident/Buschhäher, ein Standvogel
Townsend’s Solitaire, a winter-only resident/Townsendsklariono, ein Wintergast
White-breasted Nuthatch, year-round resident/Carolinakleiber, ein Standvogel
Western Bluebird, spring migrant/Blaukehlhüttensänger, ein Zugvogel
Say’s Phoebe, spring migrant/Zimtbauch-Phoebetyrann, ein Zugvogel
Squirrel, always here and always hungry/Eichhörnchen, immer hier und immer hungrig
Tasty morsel/Leckerbissen

This transitional time is a time for sad goodbyes and impatient restlessness, but also for hopeful expectations and cautious optimism. Hope springs eternal.

Moving toward spring?/Dem Frühling entgegen?

Castle Of The Plains

tanjabrittonwriter 48 Comments

My recent journey to southeast Colorado revived memories of earlier stopovers at one of the region’s legendary landmarks: Bent’s Old Fort. Also known by the evocative title above, this National Historic Site is unusual, in that the National Park Service reconstructed the original building from scratch, thanks to detailed descriptions, drawings, and diary entries of erstwhile visitors, first and foremost the meticulous sketches of Lieutenant James W. Abert, a topographical engineer, who stayed there twice in the 1840s.

Mein Ausflug in den Südosten Colorados vor kurzem erinnerte mich an vorherige Besuche eines der bekanntesten regionalen Wahrzeichen, Bent’s Old Fort (Bents altes Fort), das auch als Schloß der Prärie bekannt ist. Dieses Denkmal ist ungewöhnlich, weil es von der Verwaltung der amerikanischen Nationalparks auf historischer Grundlage wieder aufgebaut wurde, was durch detaillierte Beschreibungen, Zeichnungen und Tagebuchaufzeichnungen ermöglicht wurde, insbesonde diejenigen von Leutnant James W. Abert, der sich in den 1840er Jahren zweimal dort aufhielt.

Built in 1833 under the direction of brothers William and Charles Bent, and their friend, Ceran St. Vrain, near the present-day town of La Junta, the fortification became the major hub of commerce along the 844 mile Mountain Route of the Santa Fe Trail, which connected Independence, Missouri, with Santa Fe, New Mexico. A multi-cultural and multi-national nexus, it embodied a model of peaceful, if short-lived, coexistence between American Indians, Hispanics, and Europeans. Beset by disease and declining economic fortunes as a result of diminishing trade in beaver pelts and buffalo hides, the fort was abandoned, before it perished in a conflagration in 1849, likely the work of William Bent himself, after his offer to sell it to the US Army was declined. He subsequently operated a trading post forty miles east, which became known as Bent’s New Fort.

Das Fort wurde 1833 unter der Leitung der Brüder William und Charles Bent sowohl ihres Freundes Ceran St. Vrain nahe der heutigen Stadt La Junta errichtet, und diente als Haupthandelszentrum entlang der etwa 1360 Kilometer langen Bergroute des bekannten Santa Fe Trails, der die Stadt Independence in Missouri mit Sante Fe in Neu Mexiko verband. Es repräsentierte einen multinationalen und –kulturellen Schnittpunkt, und ein Modell friedlicher Koexistenz zwischen Indianern, Mexikanern und Europäern, wenn auch nur auf kurze Zeit. Von Seuchen und sinkenden Umsätzen geplagt, was hauptsächlich auf das zurückgehende Gewerbe mit Biberpelzen und Büffelfellen zurückzuführen war, wurde die Festung  aufgegeben und fiel 1849 einer Feuersbrunst anheim, die wahrscheinlich das Werk von William Bent persönlich war, nachdem sein Angebot, das Fort an die US Armee zu verkaufen, abgelehnt wurde. Danach eröffnete er 65 Kilometer weiter östlich einen weiteren Handelsposten, der als Bents neues Fort bekannt wurde.

To enlarge a photo, click on it. To read its caption, hover cursor over it.

Distant view of the fort
Inner courtyard, or placita
Front gate as seen from the courtyard
Nearby Arkansas River, the erstwhile border between the US and Mexico
Cactus growing on the wall

The once bustling center of Bent’s Old Fort was reclaimed by prairie for more than a century, until the structure was resurrected in 1976. Its attractive adobe attire is well-suited for an area that offers limited timber and abundant soil, is furnatially hot in summer, and teeth-chatteringly cold in winter. In exploring this eye-catching edifice and environs, where history comes alive during various annual reenactments, one gains an inkling of what it might have meant for weary travelers to reach this welcoming haven on the mighty Arkansas River. For a short while, it offered water, food, rest, and refuge from the dusty, dangerous wagon tracks, before it was time to resume the perilous, protracted journey.

Die Prärie verleibte sich das einst geschäftige Zentrum von Bents altem Fort über ein Jahrhundert lang ein, bis das Bauwerk 1976 neu errichtet wurde. Sein attraktives Adobegewand ist für diese Gegend gut geeignet, die sich durch niedrige Baumbestände und reichhaltige Böden sowie durch backofenheiße Sommer und zähneklapperndkalte Winter auszeichnet. Beim Erforschen dieses ins Auge springenden Gebäudes und seiner Umgebung, wo Geschichte mehrmals jährlich duch historische Nachstellungen lebendig wird, bekommt man/frau eine kleine Ahnung dessen, was es für müde Reisende bedeutet haben könnte, diese einladende Oase entlang des mächtigen Arkansas Flusses zu erreichen. Für eine kurze Weile gab es Wasser, Proviant, Erholung und Sicherheit von der staubigen Wegstrecke, bevor es mit der gefährlichen und langwierigen Reise im Planwagen weiterging.

Trade room
Trade room
Mouse catcher
Another cat
Weapon rack
Private chamber
Interior decoration
Kitchen fireplace
Blacksmith shop. Blacksmiths were in high demand, to repair wagon wheels and other necessary equipment.
Kitchen
Storage room
Saddles
Private desk
Private room
An opportunity to wash off the trail’s dust
Free-ranging mule
…with his buddy
Peacocks were kept at the original fort
Oxen became the preferred draft animals for all caravans across the plains
Horse and ox grazing
Beware of the horns!

Southeast Colorado

tanjabrittonwriter 39 Comments

In addition to constant Snow Goose sightings, the High Plains Snow Goose Festival in Lamar last month offered many memorable moments. Colorado is known chiefly for its Rocky Mountains, but over a third of our state occupies the Great Plains. Despite a dearth of peaks and a landscape that appears monotonous and barren at first glance, the plains scenery is variable and punctuated by unexpected rises and falls, as we festival participants experienced during field trips to both public and private properties.

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John Martin Reservoir west of Lamar
John Martin Dam, along the Arkansas River
Two Buttes (only one visible)
Sandstone formation
Frozen pond
Stark colors

The plains are windy places, and not a single day passed without a breeze at best, gale-force gusts at worst. During the three-day event, we enjoyed only a few calm hours. On a single-digit morning, we braved a biting wind, before it blew us back into our vehicle. At times, we hid behind the bus or a building in order to steady our binoculars and cameras. Native Americans and homesteaders had to be a hardy lot to survive in this challenging climate, with freezer- and furnace-like conditions alternating in the course of the year. Petroglyphs and smoke-darkened caves bespeak long-term human activity in the region, and ruined homes and artifacts tell of those hopeful settlers who arrived, but could not make a go of things.

Overhang with smoke-blackened ceiling
Stone etching with teepee
Indian rider with headdress
Homestead ruin
1899 School house
Pioneer windmill, with modern-day wind turbines in the background

Lamar exists because the Mountain Branch of the Santa Fe Trail traversed the southeastern portion of Colorado. From 1821 until 1880, the legendary trade route connected the US with Santa Fe, which was part of Mexico until 1848, when it was appropriated by the US. The arrival of the railroad consigned the trail to history books, until the 1987 creation of the Santa Fe National Historic Trail by the National Park Service. A series of historical markers, which we encountered on several occasions, recall its historic significance.

Old railroad engine with windmill and water tower in Lamar
Sante Fe Trail marker
Santa Fe Trail crossing

Lamar Mural

Lamar Mural

While Coloradans have reason to celebrate some past events, we still try to come to terms with others. Southeast Colorado has borne witness to, and bears the scars of, several inglorious acts. It saw the 1864 Sand Creek Massacre, in which Colorado militia attacked a group of peaceable Arapahoe and Southern Cheyenne, camped under express US government protection. Close to 200 persons perished, among them women and children. The area also witnessed the construction of Camp Amache, one of ten internment camps that imprisoned American citizens of Japanese descent from 1942 until 1945, in the wake of the attack on Pearl Harbor in World War II.

Wherever I am, experiencing the beauty and order of the natural world while being reminded of some of the inhuman acts perpetrated by humans on one another is a source of never-ending sadness and outrage. I continue to struggle with negativity and cynicism about humankind, but I don’t want to give up hope that we can yet find a way to make this earth a welcoming home for all people, as well as for all our fellow creatures.

Wild Turkeys
Greater Roadrunner
Great-horned Owl
Bald Eagle

White As Snow

tanjabrittonwriter 48 Comments

During January’s excursion to seek out the Pink-footed Goose, a rare European visitor in North America, I also beheld a handful of Snow Geese, mixed in with gaggles of Canada and Cackling Geese. In February, my attendance at Lamar’s 17th Annual (my first) High Plains Snow Goose Festival in Colorado’s southeastern corner, exposed me not only to a handful, but to a multitude of Snow Geese on their late winter northward migration. During various festival-associated field trips, we saw and heard Snow Geese nearly incessantly—feeding on fields, flying in formation, or floating on lakes—in numbers that ranged from single birds to thousands.

To enlarge a photo, click on it.

We birders good-naturedly ridicule ourselves for willingly forsaking sleep to catch the early bird, so to speak. On the event’s final day, a sunrise trip was offered to a reservoir, where Snow Geese are known to roost. Seven of us gathered at the meeting place at 5:15 AM, before we climbed onto the school bus that carried us to our destination in utter darkness. Once there, our driver turned off the engine, and we were greeted by countless bird voices, even before we could discern the whitish ribbon of their mass at the water’s edge in the graying morning light.

According to the Colorado Division of Wildlife ranger who accompanied us, we were looking at 15,000 geese. The day before, he had counted 40,000. As the sun slowly bathed the scene in an auburn glow, one vociferous skein after another arrived, carrying an estimated 10,000 additional birds. They gathered along the far shore of the lake, and I was unable to capture a single close-up. Fortunately, I had no trouble approaching the migrant geese winging their way through a beautiful mural in downtown Lamar, and they are depicted in the topmost photo.

One of the reasons the birds kept their distance—hunting. They were wary of humans. Like many nature lovers, I have mixed emotions about this activity. Not a hunter myself, I am nonetheless aware of the necessity of controlling certain animal populations. Snow Geese winter in the US or Mexico and migrate all the way to the Canadian and far-northern Alaskan tundra for the breeding season. Global warming and civilization have benefited their species. Earlier snow melts in the Arctic prolong the breeding season, and the availability of man-made reservoirs and agricultural crops in what was once wild prairie, improve survival during their twice-yearly journey. They have, however, been too successful, and depletion of their precious Arctic habitat is of concern not only for themselves, but also for other animals.

Even though it saddens me to visualize people shooting at these beauties with guns instead of with cameras, my rational self knows this is a necessary and beneficial intervention. We no longer live in Eden, where nature can balance itself. It is easy to criticize hunters, but in many instances their fees help protect crucial animal habitat, and their actions help maintain healthy populations. Instead of disparaging one another, we need to collaborate to tackle today’s challenges. “We’re all in this together,” as Red Green has long been telling us.

Lost?

tanjabrittonwriter 65 Comments

To look for one bird in a flock of thousands is like trying to find the proverbial needle in the haystack. When I arrive at Milavec Reservoir in Frederick, about 100 miles north of Colorado Springs, on this early January day and am greeted by the resounding calls of countless Canada and Cackling Geese, I know that my chances of finding my hoped-for goose are slim. Ever since the report a few weeks ago of the first-ever Colorado appearance of a Pink-footed Goose, which typically breeds in Greenland and Iceland, and overwinters in Northern Europe, a great buzz has energized the regional birding community. Occasional sightings in Canada or the East Coast have occurred, but this species’ presence in our state is sensational.

I am not the only one with binoculars on this frosty morning—two fellow bird enthusiasts are scanning the lake with their optics, and I make their acquaintance. Joe, who has already seen the bird twice, has brought his brother, Steve, to show him this rarity. As on so many previous occasions, I benefit from the heart-warming kindness of strangers, because Joe’s subsequent discovery of the goose allows me a brief glimpse—just long enough to capture two photographs—before I lose it in the ceaseless ebb and flow of myriad geese. I clearly notice its short beak, responsible for its scientific name, Anser brachyrhynchos (Anser is Latin for goose, and brachyrhynchos is Greek for short-billed). Interestingly, the German common name, “Kurzschnabelgans,” reflects the short beak, whereas the English focuses on another prominent feature, the birds’ feet, described by Joe as “bubble-gum pink.”

To enlarge a photo, click on it. To read its caption, hover cursor over it.

Pink-footed Goose/Kurzschnabelgans (Anser brachyrhynchos), surrounded by Cackling Geese
Pink-footed Goose/Kurzschnabelgans (Anser brachyrhynchos)

Alas, I never see the goose’s legs, but I do not mind terribly, especially when I realize that other seekers, who arrive a little later, do not get to observe any part of the bird. I indulge in the enjoyment of other geese, whose visits to Colorado are limited to wintertime.

Snow Goose/Schneegans (Chen caerulescens)
Snow Goose/Schneegans (Chen caerulescens)
Ross’s Goose/Ross Schneegans (Chen rossii)
Greater White-fronted Goose/Bläßgans (Anser albifrons)
Ross’s Goose-Cackling Goose Hybrid/Kreuzung zwischen Zwergkanadagans und Ross-Schneegans

This Pink-footed Goose makes my birding heart beat happily, and even though it is far off-course, reminds me of the amazing miracle of bird migration that spans our one-of-a-kind globe, of the interconnectedness of all living beings, and of the desperate need to get our act together, so that our fellow creatures may continue their age-old movements across continents, which have inspired humans since the dawn of consciousness.