1 pm, Tuesday, 3/1/2011 at Left Hand Reservoir, south of Brainard
Lake, Indian Peaks Wilderness.
For location map and some pics, go to end.

But for long, whimsical version: I just finished reading Barrow’s
Boys, by Fergus Fleming about intrepid nineteenth century British
arctic explorers like Franklin, Ross, Sabine, and Barrow—names
familiar to birders. So in a Walter Mitty mood I decided to make my
own arctic voyage today, to search for White-tailed Ptarmigan at Left-
Hand Reservoir, a.k.a. the Sinister Sea. I brought along an esquimaux
porter named Barb. (She carried my lunch sandwich.) We hoped to follow
the route of the ill-fated Schmoker expedition of 2010, wherein
Captain Willy and crew were forced to retreat in the face of ferocious
gale winds. On our way to the Sinister Sea we sailed by the old penal
colony of Ward, but did not stop.

We snowshoed with ski poles up Left Hand Reservoir road, deep in
packed snow. The trip up was strenuous but beautiful with warm, clear
weather and the usual birds—Mountain Chickadee, Steller’s Jay, Dark-
eyed Junco, and Cassin’s Finch. But at the reservoir the winds were
very stiff. We looked for ptarmigan in the willows below the dam, but
the winds were too strong. At that point I believed our expedition had
failed—just too windy for ptarmigan to be up and about. But in the
spirit of my British heroes I decided we would circumnavigate the
Sinister Sea to gather information for the Royal Geographical
Society.

So we removed our snowshoes and hiked along the rocky shore. We
flushed about 8 Canada Geese and a Common Raven who were pecking at
the dried bottom of part of the reservoir. We reached the far shore
and Barb observed, “Well, here are some willows.”
I replied, “Yes, but I know ptarmigan habitat, and this is not quite
right for them.” No sooner had I spoken than 8 White-tailed Ptarmigan
flushed right before our eyes, their very white wings and bodies
fluttering toward dark spruces across the willow meadow. Gorgeous! I
high-fived Barb in true British, err, Motown fashion.

Two ptarmigan were nice enough to stay behind for photographs.
Snowshoeing back to the mother ship through the woods I was delighted
to hear a distant Eastern Screech Owl that sounded uncannily like my
Mark Peterson mobbing tape. Barb pointed out that I was hearing from
my pocket my iPod and speaker at very low volume. (Esquimaux porters
can be very outspoken.)

Notwithstanding, as to the ptarmigan, venimus, vidimus, vincimus! And
God save the Queen.
(If you go up there to look for ptarmigan, please give them plenty of
room, no dogs, etc. per ABA rules of engagement. I used a 400mm lens--
could give them some space.)

Location:
40 degrees, 03.907 minutes N or +40.0651,
105 degrees 33.887 minutes W or -105.5648
http://tiny.cc/gqdiz

12 pic slide show of our voyage of discovery: 
http://twilberding.zenfolio.com/p900537222

Cheers!
Tom Wilberding
Boulder, Colorado

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