In late May 2024, as part of my prairie recording expedition with Lang Elliott and Beth Bannister, I checked out Red Bird Canyon in the southern Black Hills of South Dakota. I arrived there late in the afternoon after being pushed across Wyoming by a strong tailwind. Although not very deep or extensive, the canyon blocked most of the wind, although it was still howling in the trees above the canyon. The road winds through a series of homesteads, before the canyon narrows, with red rock outcrops and a nice forest of pines and deciduous trees. There were mud puddles in the road from recent storms, and numerous trees had fallen across, although most had been moved or cleared. I found a wide pull-off that was flat enough to call camp. Despite the recent rains, the creek bed was dry so I wouldn’t have to worry about stream “whoosh.”
Lang had mentioned a large cliff face with big colonies of swifts and swallows. I found the cliff but saw no swifts nor swallows. I don’t know if it was too early (unlikely, as most of the other migrants had arrived), or for some reason, they had abandoned the cliff. A disappointing mystery.
As soon as I arrived in the canyon, I started hearing birds unfamiliar to me. Ovenbirds and Veerys called along with more familiar Spotted Towhees and Black-headed Grosbeaks. Not the prairie birds I came for, but a nice juxtaposition of eastern and western birds. The evening was cloudy with a threat of rain, so I only set out one microphone overnight. It captured a lovely evening chorus. Unfortunately, one of the batteries died overnight, so it stopped recording at 1 am, and I missed the dawn chorus on my only morning in the area that wasn’t windy. It was the first of several equipment failures that would plague the trip. But at least I captured this lovely recording:
The next morning, I drove back into Newcastle, Wyoming, for gas, maps, and water, then returned to the Black Hills to explore. I opted to stay away from the numerous state and national parks in the area, as my new rescue dog, Sage, was very reactive at the sight of strangers. The Black Hills are laced with dirt roads, probably old logging and mining roads, that makes it an ATV heaven. It also makes it very confusing to find your way around. But I muddled through, enjoying the high country where the aspens were just starting to leaf. By mid-afternoon, storm approached with dark clouds and brisk winds. I found a route that led me back toward Red Bird Canyon and found a small spot to camp in Boles Canyon. Right after I arrived, it started raining. Luckily, it didn’t last long and stopped just long enough to get camp set up and cook dinner. With heavy clouds rolling in, I opted not to set out any mics for the evening.
The clouds began to clear at sunrise but left behind a cold north wind. I set up a mic further up the canyon and picked up a small flock of American Goldfinches as the wind roared through the pines above the canyon:
After a quick trip to town to check email, I had another day to kill before I would meet up with Lang and Beth near Ten Sleep, so I drove back up to Red Bird Canyon and spent a relaxing afternoon bird watching and reading. And pondering the name of the canyon. When I think of “red birds”, I think of Northern Cardinals. Or Summer Tanagers. Or Vermillion Flycatchers. Of the three, only cardinals are seen occasionally in the area, although I was not fortunate enough to see or hear one. Hopefully, they didn’t disappear like the swifts and swallows. The clouds mostly cleared out although it stayed breezy. I set out a couple of mics overnight, and managed to catch this nice morning chorus, as usual accompanied by the winds above the canyon:
After breakfast, I packed up and headed for the Bighorn Mountains, and that’s where I’ll pick up the next installment.