Our farm in Littleton, Colorado, sits on the west wall of the South Platte Valley and commands a broad view to the east. At dusk, I often go out to enjoy the vista and to watch the avian commuters as they move across the evening sky.
Today, after a sunny, mild January day, the winter traffic was typical. Small squadrons, moderate skeins and large flocks of Canada geese were scattered above the horizon, moving from their feeding grounds to large reservoirs along the South Platte Valley; there they will spend the night, safe from attack by predators. In like manner, ring-billed gulls cruised across the darkening sky, also headed for community roosts on the ice. Joining these evening commuters were smaller flocks of ducks, including mallards, gadwall, green-winged teal and redheads. Seemingly out of place (though common) in the Colorado winter sky, a great blue heron flapped toward the river, its stately form and slow, steady wingbeats conveying a specific flight plan, as controlled as the jets that drifted toward DIA.
Closer to home, the sight and distinctive calls of collared doves dominated the scene, paired off and settling in the treetops to catch the last rays of the sun. Northern flickers, house finches, common bushtits and a lone Townsend's solitaire also moved about our property as a half moon glowed overhead and our mother star dipped behind the Rockies. Just another glorious dusk along the Front Range; within hours, the night shift would rule the farm.
