Carol of the birds: A Christmas Bird Count story
<p>My first Christmas Bird Count was a few decades ago in the hot desert that separates Arizona and California at <a href="https://www.fws.gov/refuge/imperial" rel="noopener ugc nofollow" target="_blank">Imperial National Wildlife Refuge.</a> The Colorado River seemed to narrow and fade by the hour, but at sunrise, the birds were heavily at play. Birds were my daily chorus, my companions, and my seasonal gauges. I learned all their names, tail flicks, wing bars, and cadences. Western grebes had shaded eyes like those of the Arizona cowboys. Ridgeway’s rails clapped from the reeds and cactus wrens raised a brow from deep within the cholla. Years later, after moving around and spending some time out of the field in a regional position, my tools dulled, the species shifted and my ear waned.</p>
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