This publish was initially printed on March 01, 2013. It’s republished in our new “From the Archives” collection, by which we need to draw consideration to our huge again catalogue of greater than 10,000 birding-related posts printed over the past 15 years or so.
I cajoled my associates into a visit as much as Polson to see the Snowy Owls. Apart from the owls themselves, I promised them the very best pie in Montana, which is to be discovered within the Ronan Cafe.
These lures drew three of my fellow writing college students out of the woodwork – two poets and a fiction author. None of those individuals have been birdwatchers, as such, earlier than coming to Montana, though one of many poets was outdoorsy in a mountain climbing and snowboarding manner. Now, the opposite poet had not one however two subject guides, and the fiction author was sporting a pair of binoculars borrowed from a professor. Within the dry mountain air, my insanity is slightly contagious.
We set out in direction of Kalispell round ten, which is early within the morning for writers. Nearly instantly, my fellows started discussing their love of Black-billed Magpies, certainly one of which promptly flew over. Then a Raven handed us, sparking appreciative dialogue of the wonders of corvids. It was begin.
As we obtained additional out into the agricultural reaches, Tough-legged Hawks turned an everyday sight. We additionally handed Golden and Bald Eagles, just a few hardy Purple-tailed Hawks, and what we thought was in all probability a Peregrine Falcon though (or as a result of) it zipped by quick. A mountain vary slipped away beneath us. We handed by a city known as Paradise, Montana, the place a lady was main a horse throughout the garden of the publish workplace. We handed a decrepit mini-golf course the place massive plaster dinosaurs tilted drunkenly towards the winter-sere garden. It wasn’t till we stopped for attractiveness at an American Kestrel (a goal species for each the poets) that we realized we had taken a mistaken flip on the Nationwide Bison Vary, and have been now some sixty miles from our vacation spot.
By this level, although, the others have been having a lot enjoyable that they have been keen to press on (even if the hour after I’d promised pie had come and gone.) We corrected course, and after many extra Tough-legs and some extra eagles we discovered ourselves by the shores of the noble Flathead Lake, the biggest pure physique of recent water west of the Mississippi.
A cruise by the shore revealed some Canada Geese, Widespread Goldeneye, and Bufflehead. However what we needed was owls, so we set out for the open fields on the southern finish of city.
My secret hope was to discover a group of birders already in place, scopes on owls, and thus save ourselves some hassle. Alas, it was to not be. We noticed not a soul within the fields as we cruised slowly, scanning for lumps of white. We noticed not an owl both. We have been all getting hungrier, and the street was tough on the fiction-writer’s Prius. After half an hour or so, we had seen all there was to see, and there have been no owls.
I felt terrible. My associates had given up their total Saturday for a bust, and whereas a birder is aware of that dips occur, I had hoped to introduce them to the sunny facet of the interest first. However they have been all well mannered, particularly after we reached Ronan and ate. Greater than well mannered. They appeared fairly proud of our 5 Bald Eagles, our three American Kestrels, our uncountable Tough-legs and Magpies, the one Downy Woodpecker we’d noticed clinging to a weed stalk close to the sphere with no owls. And the pie. If you’re ever in Ronan, Montana, attempt the pie.