Birding Henderson, NV

Natural beauty abounds at the Henderson, Nevada sewage treatment facility.

I spent my happy morning today enjoying the birdlife attracted to the Henderson, Nevada, sewage treatment plant. Michael and Diane Porter of birdwatching.com picked me up in their rental car at my cheesy casino hotel, and we headed (blessedly) out of town to the birdiest place for miles around.

The huge sewage lagoons of the Henderson facility shine like a beacon to birds and wildlife looking for water in this harsh desert. Several years ago, when I was facing a weekend in Vegas, I found this birding hotspot on the Internet and ever since, it has acted like the anti-venom for the time I've had to spend here in Sin City. A few hours birding at the Henderson Poo Tumbler and I'm good to go.

This is one of the few places on Earth where birders are accorded the special treatment that we deserve. And how fitting, since this is a treatment facility. When you approach the heavily fortified gate of the Henderson Sewage Treatment Plant, you are faced with lots of signage that warns "Absolutely No Admittance", and "No Trespassing."

Why so secure? Well, you can imagine that Las Vegas has a vested interest in making sure its highest-volume outflow is handled properly. Right next to these warning signs, near a telephone keypad, it says "Bird Watchers Press #100 and Wait for Answer." When you do this, a perky voice says "Hello?" And you say "Yes we'd like to go birding!" "Oh, great! I'll open the gate for you!" comes the answer. And the giant steel gate begins to slide off to the left, clearing your entry path.

Once inside, you must sign in at the visitors' center, where you can also peruse the list of recent sightings, get a map and checklist, and buy any number of souvenirs.

It was a beautiful morning, clear and cool with a light westerly breeze. The sounds of verdins and Gambel's quail greeted us before we'd slammed the car doors. I was SO happy that I chose to get some birding in before the SHOT Show. It seemed the civilized thing to do.

I've never seen so many northern shovelers in one place as we found this morning at the Henderson treatment plant.

We walked a couple of miles around the settling ponds, occasionally trading sightings and info with other bird watchers. Mostly we just enjoyed bird after bird, Some of them were ones we knew well from back East (the Porters hail from Iowa)--osprey, loads of ducks, especially shovelers, song sparrows, Lincoln's sparrows, white-crowned sparrows. Other species were more exciting for us non-Westerners, including Say's and black phoebes, crissal thrashers, Abert's towhee, and the aforementioned Gambel's quail. We ended the morning with a little better than 40 species.

A Say's phoebe (above) and a black phoebe (below) made me miss my own sweet Phoebe.

It was a treat birding in Henderson with Diane and Michael Porter.

From an Airplane

Here is some aerial eye-candy for you. My flight from Denver to Las Vegas flew over some of the most stunning mountain vistas in the West. I know taking pictures out an airplane porthole is stupid and the results are rarely worth saving, but I could not resist. Besides, as a Big Fly, the birding was dismal: house sparrow, rock pigeon, Euro starling.

I was fascinated by how the topography changed, how it seemed there were different species of mountains. So here's what I saw and what the camera captured. I was sitting over the wing in the exit row (and there's a funny story there, which I will try to get up here later today), so I had to crop the plane's engine and wing out of a few of these.
Hope you enjoy....

Snowy-capped peaks leaving Denver.

This view reminded me of a Japanese watercolor.

Red and coppers as we flew over Utah.

The last mountain ridge east of Vegas.

Las Vegas:The anthill in the desert.

The actual mountains all around Las Vegas must not have been pretty enough to look upon.

Manmade mountains along The Strip. Please, Mr. Captain-From-the-Flight-Deck, can we fly over the real mountains again?

Boulder, Land of Spandex & Fleece

Snow made the mountains outside Boulder even more majestic this morning.

This red-tailed hawk was just waiting for a slow prairie dog.

Douglas and Caroline and their beloved dog Lola.

I spent Thursday night visiting friends Caroline & Douglas in Boulder, CO. Caroline is my fellow Western College alum, a gifted singer/musician, and a very talented graphic designer. Boulder is a very lovely place tucked between the foothills of the Rockies and the edge of the Great Plains. Very dramatic landscape, lots of birds and wildlife, perhaps the city with the most greenspace of any other here in the US. And the population of Boulder avidly takes advantage of the easy access to the great outdoors. I have never seen more spandex, lycra, or polar fleece in my life.

I visited these same friends back in the early 1990s and one morning I hiked up the mountainside on the edge of town, near their house. I got to a natural place to stop and, looking back down into Boulder below me, I was struck by the amount of physical activity I could see. people were jogging, speed walking, doing Tai Chi, bicycling, skateboarding, rollerblading, playing tennis, playing soccer...it was incredible.

When Julie and I travel we often play a game called Could You Live Here?
Nearly always, Julie's answer to that oft-posed question is: "Too dry to grow good tomatoes!" or "I'd spend all my time watering." But Boulder is one place I know I could easily live. Julie is going to have to bring her watering can, though.

Caroline and Douglas and I took a short hike this morning on an old cattle ranch now owned as green space by the city of Boulder. The cold morning air crackled as we walked along the snow-covered footpath. In the distance, the Rockies occasionally peeked out from behind the clouds. All around us black-billed magpies whistled, warning each other about us and about the large number of raptors around--red-tailed, bald eagle, American kestrel northern harrier. Prairie dogs whistled warnings, too. Other notable sightings included red-shafted flicker, common raven, and horned lark. The walk was too short, but nonetheless I breathed a bit hard. The air was thinner than I was used to, since we were hiking at 5,600 feet.

It was a lovely way to end our too-short visit. But we've got plans to get together next fall at the Festival of the Cranes in New Mexico.

CQ and I pose in front of the mist-enshrouded foothills of the Rockies. That's Lola, world's second-best dog.