This is a short story about a question that had been vexing me for several months. Over the course of those months, I’ve found myself wandering around in the north eastern Sandia range in New Mexico covering hundreds of miles in the process. The Sandia wilderness is a magical place where one can view wildlife, amazing geology and ancient fossils – all practically at the same time.
Back in April, I was keeping an eye on what I suspected was the nest of a Golden Eagle. The thick nest of large branches, probably 4 feet or more in diameter, was perched on a limestone ledge high up on a cliff towards the end of one of my favorite trails. Often, I’d stop for what must have been 10 minutes, staring up at the thing through my binoculars at a 60 degree angle hoping for some sign of life – any movement. I was searching for any sign that a clutch of young eagles was preparing to go out into the world and hoping I’d be there to witness the momentous event. Unfortunately, it just never happened. Maybe next year? Or, maybe it’s just a rat nest?
Almost every time I passed under the cliffs, however, I would hear some other bird up in the rocks that had a provocative and interesting call. It was one I’d never heard before – or didn’t remember hearing. I’ll later blame this on my eastern U.S. based ornithological education. Try as I might, I never got a glimpse of the bird but heard the call dozens of times. On several occasions after arriving home, I’d go through my library of bird calls trying every possibility I could imagine and failing each time to find a match.
The call was loud. It started with a high-pitched trill of descending notes. Then came 4 or 5 slower notes in succession each seeming to hit a half scale tone lower than the one previous. Finally, it finished with some other difficult to distinguish guttural sounds. All put together, it seemed like this bird had to be the original inspiration for the chromatic music scale. It was driving me crazy. I had to know the identity of this illusive creature that was tormenting me (to practice my guitar scales) each time I passed under the limestone cliffs.
Today, I found myself ambling down the same trail with my friend Rex, looking for fossils and talking about birds. I told him I’d seen some rock wrens on a previous trip and enjoyed watching them flit around in the canyon below the trail we were walking. He asked me if, by chance, I’d seen any canyon wrens. I couldn’t remember having seen any, I answered, as we continued down the trail. He went on to describe the bird’s markings and then, began whistling his interpretation of the bird’s call. After the first three notes he whistled, I knew I must have found my answer! I told him the story about my frustrating quest to find what I thought was the exact bird he was describing. It had to be the canyon wren! Using Ibird (Iphone app), I looked up the canyon wren and we went through the calls. We listened to them one by one. The fourth in the list of canyon wren sounds was the “Canyon Wren A6” and it was an exact match to the sound that had been burned into my memory over months of listening. I’m sure Rex thought I was crazy as he witnessed my seemingly unjustified and disproportionate excitement over the simple set of bird facts he had just related.
We arrived at the cliffs about 20 minutes later and stopped just below the abandoned eagles nest. I pulled out the phone, loaded the call and pressed play. We looked up hopefully at the cliffs. We waited and were met with only sounds of the northwesterly breeze bending through the pinyon pines & junipers. After about more 2 minutes, I played it again. And then, we both heard it. From behind us, downhill and what must have been a few hundred yards, a report. Another canyon wren replied with the exact same beautiful, descending scale. This nagging question, the burr in my saddle that had, for months been perplexing me, was answered in the course of a random conversation about another bird sighting and by the reply of that lone canyon wren.
Quote: …and yet the simplest things could turn a day into a jewel.
Found this pic of the wren on the internet and am currently trying to contact author to make sure it is okay to use it here. Credits at bottom of photo in the meantime. The fossil photo is mine from a find by Rex on the trail today.
Canyon Wren singing
Sandia Limestone Fossil