January 2009      An Incident near Fort Supply  The bird photographer soon learns that this pastime offers brief triumphs amid long stretches of tedium and disappointment.  I had traveled around western Oklahoma for two days, mostly experiencing the latter.  The landscape of wheat fields and rolling grassland that extend to the horizon held few birds.  All were remarkably wary.            Flocks of sparrows – American Tree, Harris’, and White-crowned, would occasionally appear but could not abide a large lens pointed at them. The birds of prey were no better.  Northern Harriers, Red-tailed and Rough-legged Hawks lifted from their perch and soared into the distance at the mere idea of being photographed.          The little backwater hamlet of Fort Supply, population 328 and dwindling, was sere and brown on this cold sunny January day.  Quickly leaving behind its grain elevator and boarded-up storefronts, I headed toward Woodward, passing by the Cooper Wildlife Management Area.           On impulse, with nothing better to do, I turned the car around, entered the reserve and soon came to a manager’s residence, complete with metal storage barns and trees struggling to survive in a dry climate and relentless wind.           At once I saw them.  A flock of 50 – 100 Mountain Bluebirds, feeding on the ground under an aged juniper tree.  I think it was the stark contrasts that made the scene most memorable:  the deep blue sky; the drab ochre landscape; the brisk cold wind.  And these brilliant blue avian jewels, as lively and vivacious as the surroundings were dreary.           Twittering among themselves, they would feed for a while, then for reasons known only to bluebirds, take flight en masse and swirl about in the clear sky, now alighting on the fence surrounding the compound.  Soon they would work their way along the fence back toward the juniper and my car.

Finally one courageous bluebird, the catalyst if you will, would alight within range of my camera.  In seconds I had a dozen or more posing for me.  Some lingered for a photo; others vanished from the field of view as they swooped back down to their juniper berry feast.       Mountain Bluebirds nest in the majestic setting of the Rocky Mountains, amid soaring peaks and verdant forests of pine and fir.  In winter they spill out into the decidedly un-majestic southern plains, trading breathtaking mountain vistas for bleak rolling monotony.       But I do not think these bluebirds feel the less for it, or judge Fort Supply as I do.  Perhaps for them, western Oklahoma is Palm Beach and the French Riviera rolled into one.  Here the sun shines brightly even in January; snowstorms are rare; and a bounty of juniper berries feeds them until the Rockies beckon them home.  In return, they enliven a place desperately in need of beauty and joie de vivre.  Among our winter guests here, few are more welcome than Mountain Bluebirds.