Lucky Feathers: Unique Stories and Experiences of a Yellowstone Ornithologist

Everyone has a story to tell. My story is about experiences I have gained over the past three decades studying birds, primarily in Yellowstone National Park. The following are excerpts from the new book I am working on entitled, "Lucky Feathers: Unique Stories and Experiences of a Yellowstone Ornithologist." Enjoy!

A Northern Pygmy-Owl Christmas Tree
Chasing the Siberian Accentor 1997
The Lost Pigeon

The Northern Pygmy-Owl Christmas Tree

An office Christmas Party is not complete without a Christmas tree. In December 1989, Yellowstone Chief Ranger Dan Sholly asked if I would be willing to take a pickup and drive north out of the park and into national forest land to cut a large Christmas tree for the Chief Ranger's office. I agreed and asked a secretary if she wanted to join me. She gladly accepted the invitation, happy just to get out of the office.

I remember the day clearly, for we cut the Christmas tree in 10-15 degree Fahrenheit weather. We found a green monster of a tree, dragged it through the snow to the pickup and away we went. As we drove into Yellowstone via the north entrance station and headed south up Gardner Canyon to Mammoth, I noticed a small plump object 100 meters away on the top of a conifer. While driving I explained that the small object on the dead tip of this live conifer called a Douglas-Fir is nothing less than Northern Pygmy-Owl. I continue to tell my friend "it is a typical place to find a pygmy-owl in the winter." The secretary said, "Sure, but how do you know it is a pygmy-owl? It looks to me like a pine cone in a tree." So I pulled the pickup over, stopped and said "Trust me, it's a pygmy-owl." I carried on by saying "And if we got closer and had binoculars with us you could see its yellow eyes, small beak and feet, and false eyes on the back of its head." "Mac," she said "I'll take your word for it, but to me it looks like the tree."

Just then the bird was glancing in our direction and I told her the bird was ready to fly and to keep an eye on it. The bird seemed interested in something in the vicinity of the pickup truck we were sitting in. The bird flew all right; it flew from across the river towards the pickup and, to our surprise, landed in the newly cut Christmas tree in back of the pickup. Now, the Northern Pygmy-Owl was perched in our Christmas tree, three feet out the back window of the pickup truck. It was then that I said, "Now do you believe me." She replied, "That owl is so cute, I can't believe how small it is." You could see clearly the yellow eyes, small beak and talons, and the "false eyes" on the back of the owl's head. The little owl was looking for small prey associated with the tree. So it stayed in the Christmas tree about three minutes and it flew off downstream.

That experience was the closest encounter I have ever had with a wild, free-flying Northern Pygmy-Owl. To this day, I continually check live Douglas-Fir with the dead tops, hoping to see another Northern Pygmy-Owl. It was one of the most entertaining, yet beautiful, Christmas ornaments I have ever seen.

Chasing the Siberian Accentor

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to chase a rare bird and make the trip into an adventure? An adventure that would be etched in your mind for the rest of your life.

I did just that. It started with a telephone call from a friend of mine by the name of Paul Baicich from Maryland. He called and one of the first things out of his mouth after, "Hey, McEneaney!" was "How far is it to Boise from you?" "Why?" I asked. "Well there is a Siberian Accentor (Prunella montanella) in Hailey, Idaho." Paul went on to remind me how rare this bird was. There are only 10 records of the bird in North America. Seven of the records come from remote areas of Alaska, two from British Columbia, and one from Washington. I knew it was a great bird to see, especially since Paul and another close birding friend (Ken Hollinga) and I traveled over much of the continent in search of birds.

So I got excited. I looked at the maps, called some friends for information, and looked out the window of my office in Yellowstone National Park. I said to myself, "No way am I going anywhere with -30 degree Fahrenheit temperatures coupled with snow and ice-packed roads for eight hours of continuous driving. It was nothing short of a death wish, so I gave myself an option. I thought, "If the weather improves by next week and the bird is still there I might consider it." The next week came, the temperatures moderated to -10, and the thought of seeing a Siberian Accentor consumed me. I phoned a friend in the park, another in Bozeman, and one in Rigby, Idaho and said I planned to chase a Siberian Accentor. I told them when and where to meet me if they wanted to join me. I was on a vacation for a day.

We headed out at 5:30 p.m. on January 16, 1997 from Gardiner, Montana, driving as fast as the weather would allow on our 450-mile journey to Hailey, Idaho. We briefly saw a few birds en route through the crepuscular and evening hours. We drove from Yellowstone, Wyoming through Montana to Bozeman, Ennis, and on to Island Park and Rigby, Idaho. One slip of the car and we would spend a cold night in the vehicle. We had sleeping bags and were ready should something expected occur, but we would rather be watching a Siberian Accentor in the morning. After eight hours of driving we stayed the night in Arco, Idaho, on the wind-swept, sagebrush-dotted Snake River Plains.

The next morning I awoke before the alarm sounded. I was too excited to sleep, my mind racing with thoughts of the Siberian Accentor. Siberian Accentors summer in the willow-birch habitat of Siberia and winter in eastern China and Korea. This bird was way off course. Finding it in the bird world was like winning the lottery. We repacked the car in the dark and headed out ahead of schedule. The red sun loomed behind the eastern horizon. Time was on our side, so we stopped at the "On the Run Café" in Carey, Idaho. The people who owned the place were kind and wanted to know what we were doing up that hour of the day. "We're chasing a rare bird, a Siberian Accentor," I told them. They had heard about this bird in the paper and started asking more questions as we waited for our meal. We gobbled down the food, bid our new friends adieu and were on our way. A brilliant vermillion filled the skies to the east as the sun rose. The excitement was increasing.

We were right on schedule. I started driving slowly as we reached Picabo, Idaho and my friends couldn't understand it. I was secretly, yet intensely searching for a specific habitat for another great bird, a Gyrfalcon. As we drove slowly, the curiosity got to my friends. "What are you looking for?" they asked. I didn't want to tell them about this bonus bird. We glanced at a Prairie Falcon. "I am looking for a Gyrfalcon," I said. "What do you look for?" someone asked. "Look for a large falcon on a fence post or on a telephone pole," I responded. As soon as I made that statement, I said, "there it is!" And sure enough, we got excellent views of a gray Gyrfalcon, a rare arctic bird for these parts.

But time was wasting. We got a good look at the Gyrfalcon but needed to keep moving in our race against time. We ended up in Hailey, Idaho after 11 hours in the vehicle, yet we were right on schedule. As we walked up a tree-lined lane near some homes and towards some bird feeders, there was a plastic bag hanging from a tree with the name "Terry McEneaney" inscribed on it. I opened up the package, and it was from a birding friend from Idaho, by the name of Don Morgan, welcoming me to Sun Valley and providing information about the bird. That really made my day, but more importantly we were close on the heels of the target bird. We spread out to increase our chances of finding the bird. And there was the Siberian Accentor. A small bird resembling a Red-breasted Nuthatch, with a dark crown and dark wide streak passing through and in back of the eye. Above and below the eye was a beautiful orange-ochre blend, a rusty brown back and flanks, gray side collar, streaks on the back and sides, and one pale white wing bar on each wing. We were ecstatic and had excellent views of the bird on four different occasions within a half-hour.

In the birding world, this was an exciting find. It was getting cold and we had seen the Siberian Accentor in sufficient detail. So we were off again. We had found the primary bird (the Siberian Accentor), and the secondary bird (Gyrfalcon). But to make our trip complete, to get the grand slam for the trip, we headed in another direction for a another target bird, a Tufted Duck from Eurasia. We headed to Hagerman Fish Hatchery in Hagerman, Idaho; an hour and a half of additional driving. As we drove down the lane leading to the fish hatchery, we were overwhelmed by thousands of Ring-necked Ducks. Looking for a Tufted Duck in a huge flock of Ring-necked Ducks would be like finding a needle in a haystack. But before long, I shouted, "I got it." We had attained our goal and were ecstatic. But there were more bonus birds such as a Greater Scaup, a Glaucous Gull, a Herring Gull, a Greater White-fronted Goose and a Bar-headed Goose from Asia. The Bar-headed Goose record could not be accepted for the conterminous United States for there are a fair amount of these birds in captivity in North America and such sightings are considered probable escapees. Nevertheless, it was a great occasion seeing this bird flying among Canada Geese. As we watched the Bar-headed Goose, out of a car stepped four birders, two from Idaho and two from Ohio. I knew them all. Interestingly, one was Don Morgan who had left me the note in Hailey, Idaho, the other a close friend and authority of North American birds by the name of Jon Dunn. They, too, were excited about the birds before us. It is a small world I thought.

We bid adieu to our well-traveled friends, packed up the car and headed home. En route home we came across six road-killed N. Barn Owls in the Snake River plains of Idaho. Regardless of the sad circumstance, they were great finds. We headed home tired but elated.

After dropping everyone off I went home but my adrenalin was flowing, so I reflected on the memories. A 30-hour trip, with 22 hours spent driving. We covered approximately 1300 miles, had some diverse conversations and met some nice people. It is small world, when you chance upon good friends in a small town in Idaho.

It is a small world, when a Siberian Accentor ends up in Idaho. Chasing the Siberian Accentor was one of my greatest experiences in bird watching. Would I do it again? If the right bird comes along, the answer is, "You bet!"

The Lost Pigeon

In the late 1980s, a Homing Pigeon was continually reported on the south shore of Shoshone Lake in Yellowstone National Park. For some reason, it would not leave. It was seen constantly flying around in circles. I had a hunch about the cause, but needed to examine the pigeon. So I captured and retrieved the bird in question. On examination, I found it to be in excellent physical condition. The bands on the legs identified it as a bird from North Carolina. I fed the bird grain, gave it water and held it overnight. I released it in the Gardiner area, watched it circle several times and fly off in the eastern horizon. My hunch turned out to be right. I had heard of, and experienced, a strong magnetic field that causes compasses to bounce around at times in the area of Pitchstone Plateau. Apparently, the Homing Pigeon got caught up in this magnetic field trap and couldn't get out. By removing the bird from this area, it got re-oriented and was back on track heading home once again.