I woke early, pealing myself out of bed around 4:30 today (5/24), in 
anticipation of meeting *Rebecca Laroche* and *Chris Rurik* at deKoevend 
Park (Arapahoe Co.) a few hours later. I ate breakfast believing I might go 
out early and look for owls. But it dawned on me, as the sky lit before I 
finished my coffee, that there was no chance of that. So I worked around my 
yard and listened for the MacGillivray's Warbler that’s been around for the 
past week and, perhaps, since May 8. I didn’t hear it, but a singing *Wilson’s 
Warbler*, the first I’ve found in my yard this year, was a nice consolation.

 

A bit after 6:30, Chris, Rebecca, and I met at deKoevend, where we walked 
the western portion of the park, moving from the area behind the rec center 
toward the southern edge where the Rose-breasted Grosbeak has been. We 
probably should have started on that edge. By the time we got there, the 
city was mowing the playing fields. We struggled to hear each other, let 
alone the birds, over the noise of the three or four mowers. 

 

But the walk was productive. We had a singing *Lazuli Bunting* take a break 
from its song and work the very edge of the canal. As we made our way 
south, we heard and saw several *Warbling Vireos*, at least one of which 
sang. The same for a few *Bullock’s Orioles* and *Western Tanagers*. High 
in a tree, near the southeastern corner, was a *Swainson’s Thrush*. Almost 
directly behind it, perched on an electrical line and right outside an 
apartment window (staring in, menacingly), was a *Red-tailed Hawk*.

 

As we made our way further south along the High Line, we all swore that the 
robin-like song we were hearing was paced too quickly to belong to a robin. 
A grosbeak, we agreed. We hustled toward the bird, found it conspicuously 
singing from a tree’s edge near where the Dry Creek enters deKoevend, and 
celebrated…a rose-breasted…no, well, a red-breasted robin after all. Woops.

 

Near that robin, we heard an intriguing song and an unfamiliar call. The 
song, we discovered, belonged to an *American Goldfinch*, not the Indigo 
Bunting that I’ve convinced myself will one day show up in west Arapahoe. 
Again, woops. But we followed that unfamiliar call for a time and Chris 
picked out a deep red bird high in the tree. We all got poor but definitive 
looks at a male *Orchard Oriole*. The best view came as it perched at the 
tree’s edge. Chris and I aimed our cameras, and the bird flew off before 
either of us got a photo. It didn’t go far, though. We found it in an 
adjacent tree, which it shared with a Bullock’s Oriole.

 

We closed out our time at deKoevend by walking along the Big Dry Creek 
through the park’s playing fields. We didn’t find signs of the 
Rose-breasted Grosbeak, but the mowers were still going so we might not 
have heard it even if it was there. We did see a female *Black-headed 
Grosbeak* along the creek, though.

 

We left deKoevend, and headed northeast, stopping briefly at the High Line 
Canal Trail off of S. Colorado Blvd., near where the Little Dry Creek 
intersects the High Line. A pair of Wood Ducks, flickers visiting apparent 
nest cavities and inspecting us as we passed (bird watching goes both ways, 
after all), a Broad-tailed Hummingbird  (perched at eye-level), and another 
Warbling Vireo were our best birds. We also got a look at a raccoon resting 
in a tree cavity.

 

Our third and final stop was at Three Ponds Park in Cherry Hills Village, 
more or less directly north. The hope was to see a Green Heron, as eBird 
shows some visits from the bird over the past decade and some evidence of 
nesting in this area. We’d walk from Three Ponds Park to Blackmer Lake, 
finding no Green Herons, but one distant *Black-crowned Night Heron* and 
one flyover *Snowy Egret*. Chris commented, early in the walk, that the day 
had already been a good one and, if we didn’t see anything else of note, 
it’d stay a good one. 

 

He was right, after all. The Orchard Oriole was a county bird for Chris and 
me; it had repaid us, even after we’d botched the robin’s and the 
goldfinch’s songs. At deKoevend, nearly all the migrants were singing, 
alternatively hiding, which allowed us to work to find them, and, then, 
finding a conspicuous perch, which allowed us to appreciate them. Even the 
Wood Ducks at the Little Dry Creek played along, waddling slowly away from 
us as we watched them, rather than fleeing while screeching as they so 
often do. 

 

Thankfully, the day paid no regard to Chris’s sentiment. On the walk from 
Three Ponds to Blackmer, we unintentionally flushed an oddly-shaped, 
ground-hugging, neckless and tailless bird. We all watched as it passed by 
us. The three of us had no doubt about what we saw and we said so after the 
bird disappeared into the long grass and brush: *poorwill*!, a county bird 
for us all. The encounter stupefied me. What good, dumb luck to meet this 
bird here. And to do so with Chris & Rebecca was especially meaningful, our 
paths having crossed through the Denver Botanic Gardens, largely due to the 
cooperative poorwills there. At some point over our hour long walk to 
Blackmer and back again, Chris & Rebecca may have grown tired of me shaking 
my head and muttering, “I can’t believe it….” If they did, they didn’t let 
on…

 

Along the walk from the park to Blackmer Lake…more Warbling Vireos, more 
Western Tanagers, and a singing *Gray Catbird*. At Blackmer Lake, Rebecca 
heard a *Western Kingbird*; on our way out, we spotted three of them. We 
all got different look—all terrible—at an empid., possibly a Least, before 
the bird disappeared into a thicket.

 

On the walk back to the park, we spotted a *Cooper’s Hawk* on the High Line 
near what might have been its nest. We didn’t relocate the poorwill, but we 
didn’t really try to.

 

We went our separate ways from Three Pond Park, the midday heat and work 
calling us each home. I drove back to Centennial slowly, content and lazy, 
listening, on repeat, to Magnolia Electric Co.’s twangy ode to the 
poorwill’s eastern counterpart, “Whip-poor-will.”

 

- Jared Del Rosso

Centennial, CO

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