We woke up at 3:30 am to watch some chickens. I guess that means we’re officially — I don’t know what — officially bat-shit looney. I’m ambivalent about the whole thing. It was really something to see the GREATER PRAIRIE CHICKEN in action (a lifer for us both) — no doubt about it. But to travel 250 miles, to sleep just three hours in a crummy motel, and to freeze our asses off in the Black Hole of Calcutta, well, that’s a lot for a chicken to ask.

The chicken viewing was at Buena Vista Grassland in Wisconsin, a few miles south of Stevens Point, if that means anything to you. The Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources does a great job setting up the program: you pay $15 a head and you meet someone at 4:30 in the morning who escorts you to a plywood blind. The blind was nice as far as blinds go, with a big bench and plenty of window hatches.

Pole, wrapped to her eyeballs, chicken watches
The birds appeared on schedule, and I even managed to digiscope a photo that was almost in focus. The mating dance was amazing, and I’ve never seen a bird with a puff-up-able air sacks before. All through the morning, their low “old muldoon” call that seem to come out of everywhere. We saw 6 males and from 3 to 6 females.

But as the morning went on, we got colder and colder. Pole wrapped herself in a picnic blanket, but it didn’t keep her warm — or from complaining. They told us we had to stay until the females left the lek, which was supposed to be at about 7:30. But when the cold starting getting to us, we forgot the spectacle, and just wanted the goddam females to get the hell out. Just as some females began to leave, juvenile males started showing up, and since they look like females, things got confusing. These new birds had neck feathers — pinnae — that stuck up, so we thought they were juveniles. There were some agonized whispers in our blind about the sex of these newcomers, and whether we were justified in leaving. Our decision was to leave at 8:00 no matter what. (But I’ll be honest: the colder it got, the more the birds looked like juveniles.) As soon as we opened the door, the two guys in the blind next to ours got out, too. No one wanted to leave first; it was like a game of (prairie) chicken. Which we lost.

We got back to the hotel — a Best Western and a real dump — and managed to sleep for about and hour before we headed out to Necedah Wildlife Refuge, which was relatively close. Necedah is one of the stopping places for captive-bred Whooping Cranes, so we were hoping we’d see some. Sure enough, as soon as we pulled into the first viewing platform, Pole spotted a WHOOPING CRANE in the distance. Then, to our delight, it flew right over us, calling all the while. We got a great view of it, and it was a toss up which was better: the chickens or the crane.

We spent the rest of the day at this wonderful place, and got a few new birds: WILD TURKEYS, a GREATER YELLOWLEGS, a RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET, and a RED-HEADED WOODPECKER. I didn’t see the kinglet because I took a nap in the car. Pole — who got less sleep than I did — was relentless. I, on the other hand, was sleepy. Relentless . . . sleepy . . . relentless . . . sleepy. Which character trait is more admirable?