Looking For Mr GoodGrouse

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Apparently there has been a tipping  of the scales up in Yellowstone as far as the ratio of female grouse relative to male grouse. The cause of this is so far unknown but the effects are not. Back in the swinging sixties and surreal seventies there were like 27 male grouse to every female grouse and the ladies had their pick of the littler, or the flock as it were. Now the situation has reversed itself and the ratio has swung heavily to the right. And in the mating game it seems like every female is out looking for Mr. GoodGrouse.

Unfortunately this leads to a situation where the females of the species tend to take more and more risks to find a mate. They begin frequenting seedier and seedier nightspots looking for that one chance to find happiness and a future that leads to eggs and chicks and a warm stable nest to raise them in. The tawdrier the bar the lower the chances are of finding a good strong mate that knows where the best seed places are and has a willingness to stay close to the nest to provide the protection the family needs. But desperation overrules caution and common sense and poor decisions are made.

This young female grouse, Ms. Terry Done Flutterfoot has just left a very rough seedmill called The Cracked Shell that makes even the dating section on Craigslist look safe, where she met an unsavory character named Stoney the Nair Wingdrop. Stoney has a bad rep around a place where bad reps are as common as implants at an Adult Film starlets’ sleepover. He has promised to show her a place in the brush nearby where the nest sites are plentiful and the seeds last way into late March. What she doesn’t know and will probably never realize is that Stoney has an arrangement with several of the human bird hunters that lurk around the edges of this rough countryside and for a 10 lb. bag of wild bird seed will deliver a fresh young grouse where the hunters dogs will soon flush her out into the open and at the mercy of their double-barreled 20 gauge shotguns.

What you see above is where Terry suddenly realizes that not only has she not been told the truth, she has been put in grave mortal danger. Her disappointment at being misled is just dawning on her as she hears for the first time the sound of dogs bursting through the brush intent on locating her. She recognizes her betrayal but believes her flight will save her. She is unprepared for the sound of the shotgun as she clears the tops of the sage and mountain mahogany.

This is a sad tale to be sure, but all too true as it points out the risks of looking for love in all the wrong places.

Redtail Hawk 1 Rattlesnake 0

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As they say out here in Colorado “The mail needed picking up” and since we occasionally get financial remuneration via snail mail and we haven’t had any interns able to pass the strict bonding requirements we have here at The Institute, it fell to the Director to go and get  the mail.

Our mail box is located down the five mile dirt road that gets you up and down from the mountain top The Institute is located on, to the modern one lane highway below. On the way down the ‘hill’ you run the chance of seeing wild animals being wild, such as turkeys walking around trying not to get eaten by the coyotes, elk in both male and female forms, mule deer of course, bears, just the black ones not the big grizzlies that roam further north, foxes, the red ones, the aforementioned coyotes, Eagles mostly Goldens but once in a while a bald one will fly by, and lots of birds. Everything from songbirds to grouse and now some Chukar. Hawks, falcons, pelicans flying by to get to somewhere where there is enough water, lots of migratory birds and our favorite species the Redtail hawk.

The Redtail is the hands down favorite because it does one really neat thing. It hunts, kills, and eats rattlesnakes. Rattlesnakes are what takes the fun out of running barefoot through the tall grass. Rattlesnakes bite. We had a neighbor near us, who was minding her own business doing absolutely nothing provoking, get bit and besides costing what a small Korean car costs it made her foot swell up to the size of your standard microwave oven. And she said it hurt too. A lot.

Most people in this country don’t like rattlesnakes. I mean, there’s a few that like them but they are not the majority by any means. People who don’t like them, the rattlesnakes not the people who do like them, generally hit them with a shovel until they’re dead. It is said by those folks who do like rattlesnakes that one of the reasons we should take these rattlesnakes close to our bosoms, are of the opinion that they do good by eating rodents, therefore let’s have them hang around doing that. Others say “Nope. Don’t think so. Gonna kill ’em”.  We believe that if they, the rattlesnakes, want to act that way they should do it way, and I mean way far away from where good American taxpaying citizens hang around. So there is a difference of opinion there.

It’s amazing that the Redtail hawk sides with the shovel smacking people and kill every one of those rattlers they see. They also pass this trait on to the young Redtail hawks by bringing home the snake, often still wriggling, for their little ones to eat. We at The Institute believe this is laudable behavior and compliment the Redtail parents on their good sense whenever we chance to speak with them.

The image above, which was taken just across the highway from our mailbox, shows the Redtail parent in the act of taking the rattlesnake it has just that moment caught, to a tall telephone pole where it would begin the process of making it not alive. Then it flew it back to the nest for the young to eat. We cheered and gave it the universal thumbs up gesture of approval before returning to sorting out the bills from the junk mail, then throwing the entire mess in the dumpster. I know, you’re saying if you’re just going to throw it all in the dumpster why bother sorting it out. We sort because every once in a while there is a check in there and then we’d have to go back and do dumpster diving which is not very dignified for a Director of a major Institute like ours to be doing. Which of course brings us to, if you’re looking for nominations for the “Most Useful Bird of the Year” award we heartily recommend Nature’s helper the Redtail hawk. Remember vote now and vote often. These birds need our support.

Too Sexy For My…

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A lot of people don’t know that Disco is alive and well in Yellowstone National Park. It is so popular in fact that it is nearly the only music you can hear playing when you’re out in the bush. I found this scene as I was stumbling through the  Willows along the Madison river one fall evening by following sounds that were strangely familiar. Against all probability it was the sound of Disco.

For these grouse Saturday Night Fever happens every night all summer long. Donna Summers, the Bee Gees, KC and The Sunshine Band, they’re gods to this dancing ornithological chorus line and these dancing fanatics can always be found at their favorite hot spots like, The Lek, and Drummers, and the infamous but packed, Spandex, dancing their feathery legs off all night long.

I caught up with this John Travolta look-a-like while he was flashing his under feathers to the hit “I’m too sexy for my Feathers” and I can tell you the females standing around the forest floor were riveted to his every move. Some were even throwing some of their Tertiaries at him, not  to mention the keys to the branches they were staying at that night.

And cool, they  don’t come any cooler than this guy. He never cracked a smile or broke a sweat during the entire performance. The glistening egg that slowly rotated and hung above the dance area highlighted everyone with brilliant flashes of light and you could hear the deep drumming of the male onlookers keeping time with the music. The flock was in a frenzy. It made you want to be a grouse.

Even though musical styles have changed for us and Disco has faded far into the distant past, its amazing, not to mention unbelievable, to know that it is still popular somewhere. It was getting pretty dark as I took this photo and even though the disco egg was reflecting light everywhere I couldn’t take the chance of breaking up this party by using flash. I backed away carefully and left them to their glittering, sparkling, whirling, enjoyment. I could hear the sound of the deep base notes all the way back to my car. Soon the sounds of “Stayin’ Alive” slowly began fading away as I left. The Bee Gees will live forever, somewhere, and if these grouse have anything to do with it that somewhere will be Yellowstone National Park. Keep on Dancin’.