Rarity Unto Death- searching for the rarest birds in the continental US (part 1)

"Let's start by imagining a fine Persian carpet and a hunting knife. The carpet is twelve feet by eighteen, say. That gives us 216 square feet of continuous woven material... We set about cutting the carpet into thirty-six equal pieces, each one a rectangle, two feet by three... When we're finished cutting, we measure the individual pieces, total them up- and find that, lo, there's still nearly 216 square feet of recognizably carpetlike stuff. But what does it amount to? Have we got thirty-six nice Persian throw rugs? No. All we're left with is three dozen ragged fragments, each one worthless and commencing to come apart."
David Quammen
The Song of the Dodo

Ragged patches of untouched Sagebrush gleam silvery-blue in sharp and ironic contrast amid a sea of agricultural fields

Hickman Flat Rd (Monticello), San Juan County, UT

Mar. 24, 2017

The concept of habitat fragmentation that Quamman so eloquently illustrates in the analogy above has now become established among the world of ecologists. By now most children in Elementary school are introduced to the idea amid lurid photos of burning tropical rainforest in Brazil and Malaysia. I know I was. We were then bombarded with numbers that were supposed to quantify the destruction. The number of acres per year, per month, per day, per minute. They used phrases like "by the end of this program, "x" number of acres will be felled." In the end the room full of kids was just sad to see the distressed sloths and jaguars, and the full extent of the destruction was lost on us. 

What those programs and lessons failed to mention were the reasons behind the destruction. Beef production in the Amazon fueling the conversion of forest to pastureland so that Americans can enjoy cheap hamburgers. The continued practice of slash-and-burn agriculture by locals just to produce enough food to survive due to the nutrient poor soil. All of it adds to the continued creation of "recognizably carpetlike stuff," but the destruction of what was once a Persian carpet.

What is most frustrating about this curriculum, is the fact that it pulls attention away from the current crisis happening in North America. While the extent of biodiversity lost is exponentially greater in the tropics, there is a similar ecological-holocaust occurring here on the mainland United States and Canada that is largely ignored.
Habitat fragmentation among the average populace is colloquially viewed as an issue endemic to the equatorial region, but this couldn't be further from the truth, especially considering the added impacts of a climate that is becoming increasingly unpredictable and chaotic.

Fallow agricultural field, Hickman Rd (Monticello), San Juan County, UT

Mar. 24, 2017

The owner of this property may be participating in the USDA's Conservation Reserve Program (CRP) which compensates enrolled landowners who allow fields to revert to a natural state to conserve soil and wildlife. Though not an active agricultural field, in its current state it is still nearly useless to a species that relies on Sagebrush except to act as a buffer between the Sagebrush habitat and the active fields. 

Unfortunately, what headway was made protecting the natural and biological resources of the United States over the past eight years is likely to be largely undone by the current administration, and the pro-development sentiment seems to be shared by Canada's administration, which has voiced their support of increased oil and gas development between the two countries.

Expecting the worst, and desperately wanting to see those species which are most imperiled before their potential extinction, I made it a personal priority to see those bird species whose futures are clearly uncertain. While many species will likely become endangered (and possibly even extinct) in the United States in my lifetime, I feel compelled to observe, experience, and enjoy them before they do potentially become extinct. Especially with the looming threat of climate change and an administration that has made it quite clear in its first two months that it is not going to take action against it, I felt that these species are already disappearing whether I see them or not, so I might as well get out there and do what I do best: look.

Piping Plover (Charadrius melodus)
Golden-cheeked Warbler (Setophaga chrysoparia)
Gunnison Sage-Grouse (Centrocercus minimus)
California Condor (Gymnogyps californianus)

The first portion of my week off (spring break) was devoted to a camping trip in Texas with my parents, so birding wasn't the primary priority, but I still managed to see quite a few species. I made a try for Piping Plover (Charadrius melodus) on South Padre Island, but didn't have any luck. I was pretty discouraged by the rampant development, and the additional garbage produced by college students engaging in a more "traditional" spring break only made things worse.
The US Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) sites exploitation for the millinery (plumed hat) trade in the 1800's as decimating the Piping Plover  population. Further development in the breeding region (Great Lakes, Great Plains, and northern East Coast region) including dam construction and filling in of wetlands has caused a decline in breeding success. The species winters on the Gulf Coast and southern East Coast where beach development and pollutants have further crippled the population. 

Common Bottlenose Dolphin (Tursiops truncatus) breaching adjacent to the SPI South Jetty, Cameron County, TX

Mar. 21, 2017

After a few days on the coast it was time to head north, but not before an over-night stop at South Llano River SP in Junction, TX to search for a special species of warbler.

South Llano River SP- Fawn Trail, Kimble County, TX

Mar. 22, 2017

The entire known breeding range of the Golden-cheeked Warbler (Setophaga chrysoparia) lies within 33 Texas counties (Texas Parks and Wildlife Division hereafter TPWD). The Golden-cheeked is an Ashe Juniper (Juniperus ashei) obligate, stripping the bark and incorporating it in its nest construction. However, the Golden-cheeked apparently requires a diversity of hardwood trees within its breeding habitat as well, and is not found in stands comprised of 90% J. ashei or more (TPWD).
With such a narrow range of habitat requirements for suitable breeding territory, it is little wonder that habitat degradation has lead to the decline of this species. TPWD sites development, grazing by native and non-native ungulates, as well as the clearing of land for livestock grazing as all contributing to the increased fragmentation and degradation of Golden-cheeked habitat.

Breeding range of the Golden-cheeked Warbler (Setophaga chrysoparia)

(eBird)

Less than 2% of Texas is publicly owned (federal and state combined). This makes management difficult because so much land is under the jurisdiction of private land owners. With the continued onslaught of suburban development around population centers such as San Antonio, it seems unlikely that much headway will be made in protecting more habitat for this species. There is relatively little published on the requirements of this species' requirements on the wintering grounds (Central America south to Costa Rica), so it is possible the fragmentation of habitat there could impact wintering survival. 

Golden-cheeked Warbler (Setophaga chrysoparia)

South Llano River SP, Kimble County, TX

Mar. 22, 2017

This species returns earlier than most other neotropical migrant warblers, arriving and occupying territories by mid-March it also is one of the first to leave, with most departing by early August

After receiving wonderful directions from the park staff I managed to hear up to four singing male Golden-cheekeds (and got to see and photograph one). I was delighted to hear both the type "A" song (buzzy notes towards the beginning) and the type "B" song (buzzy notes towards the end). 
I had looked forward to seeing this species also because it was the last of the "yellow-faced" North American Wood-Warbler complex I had yet to see. This includes the similar looking Black-throated Green (S. virens), Hermit (S. occidentalis), Townsend's (S. townsendi), and of course the previously mentioned Golden-cheeked Warbler.
Regardless, it is a very pretty bird, and one I was quite happy to see (especially after missing the Piping Plover).

Golden-cheeked Warbler (S. chrysoparia) inquisitively checking out the source of my pishing

South Llano River SP, Kimble County, TX

Mar. 22, 2017

After a full day of driving back to Santa Fe, I bid adieu to my parents and continued north on my own. I left Santa Fe around 7:00pm and drove through a snow storm to the Gunnison Valley in Colorado (5 hrs). As the elevation climbed and the mercury dropped near Monarch, CO the wind drove the snow in a nearly impenetrable white sheet, though it wasn't sticking to the roadway. After making it over the pass and into the Gunnison Valley I pulled off onto the very wide shoulder of the highway at the edge of the National Forest land where I was able to get about four hours of fitful sleep. I arrived at the fabled Waunita Hot Springs Lek at 05:00 and as the sun slowly illuminated the landscape through the dense clouds, I waited in nervous anticipation for the sound of lekking Gunnison Sage-Grouse (Centrocercus minimus).

Waunita Hot Springs lek in the cold glow of dawn.

"Lek" is actually derived from Swedish where it essentially means "play"

This is a reference to the apparent "dance" displaying males give at these congregations and is a phenomenon shared by many gallinaceous birds

 As the light got brighter my hopes sank. Not only was it breezy, but the storm had deposited a fair amount of snow, blanketing the landscape. I had hoped that the males' drive to reproduce would outweigh their desire to sit tight and stay warm (or forage). Unfortunately, it seemed that the desire to survive had won out, and around 08:00 I decided to try driving along CO RD 38 south of Gunnison where I had seen a lot of birders had encountered this species spontaneously (no lek). Had I been here a month later and this storm had moved through, I imagine they would have still displayed, but this early in the breeding season, it seems the males could afford to stay home.

To make a long story short, I didn't find any Sage-Grouse along this road either, despite several hours spent driving and hiking along the road. So, seeing someone had reported seeing one near Monticello UT, I decided to try there instead (beyond the reaches of this recent storm).

Entire extant range of the Gunnison Sage-Grouse (Centrocercus minimus) is confined to the Gunnison Valley in Colorado and a tiny isolated population in southeastern Utah

(eBird)

 The Hickman Flats Rd just northeast of Monticello, UT is toted by the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources as being the only place in the state where the Gunnison Sage-Grouse occurs, and after seeing an entry in a helpful Utah birding blog about birding along the road, I did as was advised and called the DWR to inquire as to where I might best position myself to hear the lekking birds (none of the leks are accessible from the road itself). I was also hoping to get advise as to how to avoid disturbing the birds). This inquiry went nowhere as I was forwarded to the head biologist with whom I left a message explaining I was going to try and look for the Sage-Grouse and would greatly appreciate any tips. I never got a call back, so I proceeded anyway. Granted, answering phone messages from visiting birders is probably not high on his priority list, especially when considering the status of this species in Utah is truly precipitous. It was still disheartening, and considering how scarce this species is in Utah, I would have expected a less laissez faire attitude when it came to birders potentially disturbing the birds. After seeing the area however, I realized birders driving the road at dawn were probably the least of Utah's DWR worries.

A portion of intact Sagebrush along Hickman Flats Rd (Monticello), San Juan County, UT

Only a few patches of "original" Sagebrush seem to persist in the area, all of which are separated at best by marginal grassy habitat, and at worst by open agricultural fields, creating small insularized populations and contributing to the genetic bottlenecking of the Utah population of Gunnison Sage-Grouse (C. minimus)

I had the fortune of hearing Clait Braun's presentation on the current status and history of the Gunnison Sage-Grouse last spring, and when looking towards the future, he painted a dire picture for the persistence of this species. There is little doubt that Braun knows more about this species than probably anyone else on earth, and he was one of the driving forces behind not only getting it recognized as a full species, but also its listing as an endangered species. Emphasizing the accumulated impact of habitat fragmentation and genetic degradation, Braun mentioned that it seemed unlikely that this population in Utah would persist for another 50 years (best case scenario).
After seeing the area for myself, I would certainly agree. Even genetic augmentation through the introduction of transplants from the Gunnison Valley would not change the fact that the habitat is in a very poor state for a bird that relies on extensive continuous Sagebrush. The miniscule portion of "undisturbed" Sagebrush is surrounded by a few fallow fields that are beginning to grow some Sagebrush, but it mostly consists of grass. Other portions are bordered directly by active agricultural fields.
The Gunnison Valley population may have more habitat at its disposal, but it too could fall victim to the ills of genetic bottlenecking as vulnerability to diseases increases as the population's accumulated gene pool becomes increasingly homozygous. It would seem the persistence of this species into the 22nd century is uncertain at best.

Recently plowed agricultural field, Hickman Flats Rd, San Juan County, UT

Mar. 24, 2017

Just like the famous scraps of tropical rainforest vegetation left amid a sea of barren red earth immortalized in documentaries shown to children of the Western world, the silvery patches of sagebrush lie amid a sea of equally auburn soil, right here in the United States. There are no Jaguars or Sloths fleeing the destruction here in Utah. Instead the loss is much more discreet. A few peculiar birds, persnickety in their habitat requirements, slip closer to extinction. A little more Sagebrush is converted, leaving less contiguous habitat for the Sage-Grouse. A few more individuals die. Soon even a mundane event such as a minor drought or relatively cold winter leads to the death of several individuals. However, because the population is so small, these instances have a greater proportional impact on the population then if the population had been large. Then, suppose a case of Blackhead disease is transmitted to these wild fowl via domestic chickens on nearby farms. When this species slips finally slips into the vortex of extinction, the initial loss is subtle, but one more thread has been torn from one of the ragged Persian throw-rugs. 

After dipping on the Sage-Grouse in the evening, I slept along the road in National Forest land outside of Monticello. I woke at 05:00 and made it to a hill overlooking the most extensive patch of Sagebrush along Hickman Flats Road that I could find and waited and listened. Eventually, I managed to hear a distant lekking male. The low pitch burblings of the display carried fairly well. It wasn't as satisfying as I'd had liked, but I did get to hear one, which may be as close as I ever get to a Gunnison Sage-Grouse (especially in Utah). At least for now they persist in these fragments of habitat. For how much longer is anyone's guess. I at least felt some sense of relief at hearing one before its peculiar vocalization may be lost from the landscape forever.

Finally, with a day before I needed to return to Las Cruces, I decided to make a run for one final species on my "four-corners and Texas" state tour of endangered species. I would also be visiting a place that was on my bucket list.

Grand Canyon at dawn looking westward from Moran Point (South Rim), Coconino County, AZ

Mar. 26, 2017 

Unlike the other species on my list of targets, the California Condor (Gymnogyps californianus) has a particularly convoluted path to near-extinction, though it too is due to industrialized humans entering the West. The population experienced a steady decline, reaching a critical point in the 1970's, at which point they were removed from the landscape and became the subject of an intense captive breeding program. Reasons for the decline are varied, but include egg-collection and active persecution by land owners. Being scavengers, Condors rely on carcasses for food, and as pioneering Americans entered the Condor's range they began clearing it of the native game. Even with cattle ranching and the associated carcasses this industry produced, there apparently was not enough food available to sustain the Condors. The most damning contributor to the decline was ingestion of lead shot by Condors which resulted in lead poisoning. Condors would consume gut piles left by hunters and subsequently consume the shot, an issue that still impacts the population today (though now there are also instances of Condors dying of zinc poisoning after consuming coins thrown into the canyon by tourists). I had dreamed of coming to the Grand Canyon and seeing a California Condor for a while, and was ecstatic at the opportunity to finally go and look.

Grand Canyon from Bright Angel Trail

(South Rim), Coconino County, AZ

Mar. 25, 2017

I had seen a recent reporton eBird from the Bright Angel Trail, and despite being unable to get into the Visitors Center to ask a ranger (parking was a zoo with spring break adding to what I assume is typical tourist volume) I heard from a friendly local that Bright Angel was indeed a good place (they apparently sometimes nest just down-canyon).
Unfortunately, the weather wasn't terribly cooperative. On the rim it would swing between pleasant and warm (though windy) to driving hail/snow (and windier). Not conducive weather for thermals, nor good for a bird partial to riding them. So, given my limited time I decided to hike the Bright Angel Trail. If I happened upon a Condor, then great. Regardless I wanted to experience the canyon in a more intimate sense then merely gawking down on it from the rim. I started out at 14:30 and made it to Indian Garden in two hours. I had wanted to go all the way down to the river, but knew I didn't have enough time, so I turned around and hiked back out, getting back on top right before sunset at 18:25. I didn't see any Condors, but I did hear a male Broad-tailed Hummingbird (Selasphorus platycercus) in the vicinity of Indian Garden, which seemed a bit early for being so far north. I was amazed at how much warmer it was down there, but at approximately 4,000 feet lower than the rim (the river itself being about 5,000 ft lower) I guess I shouldn't be so surprised.

Afterwards I took in a gorgeous view of the sunset from the rim before making my way to a forest road in the Kaibab National Forest where I spent the night. Getting up at dawn I managed to catch the sunrise into the canyon from Moran Point which was equally splendid. I milled about for about an hour or two, taking in the canyon as much as I could before painfully tearing myself away so I could make the nine hour drive to Las Cruces (I had classes the next day).

I was so delighted when I first arrived at the Desert View overlook of the Grand Canyon to spend a full 10 minutes gawking at it with the multitude of tourists before I heard anyone speak American English. It was nice to think that even in a world of such political animosity, people are still willing to come and see the treasures that make America truly unique and great among the world's nations: our National Parks system.