One of my constant companions on my walks along the Virgin River and into the Narrows was the American dipper (Cinclus mexicanus). On purely external appearances this just looks like a dumpy, drab, short-tail bird that flies like a sinking piece of lead but sketching and birding forces you to stop and notice.

I can watch this aquatic song bird for hours as it bobs up and down along the river bank, floats like a leaf downstream, and disappears under the turbulent waters of the Virgin. On one hike up the River Walk Trail I paused at the sound of the whistles and trills of a dipper song, rising above the sound of the river. I finally located the juvenile bird, perched on a branch, close to the water. I sat near, the only audience member to one of nature’s concerts. Here is how John Muir described the song of the dipper:

The more striking strains are perfect arabesques of melody, composed of a few full, round, mellow notes, embroidered with delicate trills which fade and melt in long slender cadences. In a general way his music is that of the streams refined and spiritualized. The deep booming notes of the falls are in it, the trills of rapids, the gurgling of margin eddies, the low whispering of level reaches, and the sweet tinkle of separate drops oozing from the ends of mosses and falling into tranquil pools.

As I was listening to the dipper, many people passed on the trail, none pausing or noticing the wonderful music emanating from one of Zion’s most amazing creatures. I then composed a short poem, really just the same poem that I have composed before, only the words were different. The gist of the theme can be summed up as: People in nature, shame on you for not noticing.

The always enjoyable dipper on the banks of the Virgin River, Zion National Park.

In all the majesty and marvel of the Sierra Nevada Mountains and Yosemite, John Muir focused his attention and writing this small, drab bird, which he called the water-ouzel. He writes so poetically about this bird in The Mountains of California:

He is the mountain streams’ own darling, the humming-bird of blooming waters, loving rocky ripple-slopes and sheets of foam as a bee loves flowers, as a lark loves sunshine and meadows. Among all the mountain birds, none has cheered me so much in my lonely wanderings, –none so unfailingly.

A field sketch of the juvenile dipper, singing on it’s perch above the Virgin River.

For my fall break I thought a visit to a National Park was in order. My first choice was American’s first National Park, Yellowstone. But after further research I found out that most of the lodging options within the park were shut down by late October, so I headed south. And the one park that immediately came to mind was Southern Utah’s Zion National Park.

I was most interesting in a park that would lend itself to my sketchbooks and Zion, with itself vertical landscapes, provided it’s own challenges. I brought a Stillman & Birn Beta Series 9 by 12 spiral sketchbook. In retrospect a panoramic watercolor sketchbook would have suited Zion’s landforms better but I had to make due with what I had. (I did bring a Stillman & Birn Gamma Series landscape book but the paper was not up to take multiple watercolor washes.)

One pleasurable Zion sketching experience was sitting on the banks of the Virgin River, with an American dipper as my companion, sketching the Pulpit at the Temple of Sinawava. In the morning the sun was just hitting the golden cliffs in the background leaving the Pupil in rich, velvety shadow.

A little behind-the-scenes in the making of a sketch. Here perched on the peaceful banks of the Virgin River, with an American dipper at my feet (more about these amazing birds in another post).

I later took a drive out on the scenic Zion-Mt Carmel Highway (Highway 9) in eastern Zion. I sketched the Checkerboard Mesa.

In the early morning my dreams were full of birds. I was in a marauding flock of birders searching the canals and side streets of an unknown seaside town for an unnamed rare shorebird. The dream ended before I saw the bird. I looked over at my bedside clock, it was just past 5 AM.

I left by 6:45 on this Saturday morning, in an attempt to make it a two life bird week. My destination was outer Pt. Reyes on the Pacific Plate. There was a very rare plover, that was spending some time with the local snowy plovers on Point Reyes Beach, between North Beach and Abbotts Lagoon. The lesser sand plover (Charadrius mongolus) breeds in Asia and winters in southern Asia, Australia, and Africa. In the fall, a rare few make it to Alaska, and an even smaller number make it down the west coast to California. When I arrived at 8:00 there were already a fair numbers of cars and a few birders heading north with their scopes slung over their shoulders for the 40 minute hike, in sand, to the stretch of beach were the lesser sand plover that been seen on the past few days.

I hit the beach at 8:15, hoping my early morning sand-hike would be fruitful.

Corvidsketcher on route to the very rare sand plover on Pt. Reyes beach, with great viewing light to my back.

30 minutes into my hike I passed a birder returning to North Beach and he told me to follow the other birders and he pointed up shore to the north. On the horizon I could see a group of tripods with around ten birders standing in loose groups. This was indeed a good sign. I approached the group at 8:58 and I scanned the beach to the west, finding many snowies hunkered down in the sand. I was looking for a larger plover with a brownish nape. At 9:00 I spotted a plover that stuck out like a sore thumb, standing next to some bull kelp and to the right, the much smaller snowy plover. Bingo, Lifebird # 505! I watched the bird feeding around the snowy plovers for 20 minutes and then headed south, back to my car. That was well worth the hike.

After adding lesser sand plover to my lifelist, I birded a few other sights in outer Pt. Reyes. In the trees of Drakes Beach I found another tropical kingbird and two palm warblers.