Rain is a pain

A semi-trailer packed with cattle thundered by, enveloping me in a brownish mist reeking of cow feces. Being passed by a livestock truck is bad enough when its dry- when it’s raining it’s an experience. There are plenty of other unpleasant realities of cycling through day after day of rain; panniers full of wet and musty nylon clothes, leather cycling gloves that are slimy when soaked, sleeping in a damp and clammy sleeping bag… the list goes on monotonously like a prairie highway.
It rained during eight of the ten days it took me to cycle from Rocky Mountain House, Alberta to Avon, Montana. Rain isn’t all bad though- the chronically cloudy weather helped me save money on sunscreen and reduced my susceptibility to skin cancer.
A few mornings ago I even found myself actually appreciating the rain. I’d miscalculated my water supply as I cycled south from Glacier National Park, ending up on a desolate stretch of highway with only half of a nalgene of water. Once it got dark I pulled off to a clearing next to the road and set up my tent. I poured two thirds of the valuable liquids into my pot to cook linguini, then wasted little time in knocking the pot off my stove and spilling the contents into the dirt. I salvaged most of the noodles but the water was gone. I couldn’t afford to use any more water to cook the pasta so I ate the noodles half raw, chewing carefully and spitting out the gravel that had stuck to the spilled pasta.
I was out of water by the morning- but thankfully it had rained overnight. For breakfast I ate handfuls of dry raisin bran, sipping water droplets off tree leaves to help the cereal go down. I cycled for thirty kilometers before finally reaching Seeley Lake, Montana: population 1,580. I searched for a grocery store where I could fill my water bottles and stomach, but I was out of luck. If however I wanted to go to church, I’d have four to choose from.
At the far end of town I found a gas station with a convenience store. I refilled my water bottles from the sink in their dingy bathroom, then searched the shelves of food for something edible. Chips? No. Cheesies? No. Little Debbie’s doughnuts? Not quite that desperate. “There’s more food over there,” said the woman behind the counter, pointing towards cases of hot dogs, hamburgers and beef burritos. I wasted a minute inspecting the cases for a meat-free option, but I should have known better. Finding vegetarian food in small-town Montana is as hard as to find as a mosque in Manhattan. In the corner I spied a tray of what appeared to be doughnuts, though it was hard to tell under all the icing. They looked disgusting. I bought three and sat at a picnic table outside to eat.
The flavour of the goodies gave no clues to their identities, so I dissected one. It was a cinnamon bun. I looked up at the stars and stripes flying against a backdrop of gray skies, then back at my cinnamon bun. Was today an unpleasant ordeal or part of the American experience?

The Alaska Highway

I'm in Fort Nelson, BC. I've made great progress down the Alaska Highway, covering 1060 kilometers during my first week. I've attributed my good progress to four factors, which will either result in me reaching Montana ahead of schedule, or will land me in a psychiatric ward.

i. I'm the sort of person who will return from a run and drink an entire litre an a half nalgene of water, or, upon finishing a bike trip, will eat three foot-long subs. Once I no longer feel sick I am filled with an ever lasting feeling of success. On day two of this trip I cycled for nearly fifteen hours, covering 257.73 kilometers. I was left with a short feeling of accomplishment and a sore knee that continues to persist.

ii) Before I left I made several adjustments so improve cycling efficiency at the expense of comfort. I installed aero-bars on my bike, which give me a more aerodynamic riding position and a sore neck and shoulders. I attached a yoghurt pot to my handlebars which I can put my lunch inside, so I can eat while cycling, thereby ensuring that I do not waste valuable minutes on a lunch break. I also swapped my mountain bike pedals for racing pedals, My new pedals are lighter and more aerodynamic, but are practically impossible to walk in, making me look like even more of a nerd whenever I clip-clop into a store.

iii) You know you're hungry when you enjoy power gels. They are the consistency of algae and taste like chocolate mixed with the chemical dispersants used to treat the Gulf Oil Spill. I consumed three gel packs yesterday, and managed not to throw up!

iv) It can be very lonely and dull cycling alone through the BORE-eal forest. I've passed many hours pretending I'm talking to Stephen Harper or Jim Prentice. I say things to the Prime Misister like, "you have ashma so you care about air quality, but you also have children so I can't understand why yuou don't care about climate change," or "can you look me in the eye and tell me that your government is doing enough to prevent my generation from inheritng a world devastated by climate change?" In my imaginary meeting with Jim Prentice I ask our Environment Minister if he sees a link between climate change and the Russian Wildfires or Pakistan Flood, and I give him a copy of Climate Wars to see if he is interested in learning about how climate change is a human rights and global security issue.

That sums up my first week on my bike, now its time for me to start cycling again!

We are writing the Bird Year book

Snow is swirling outside our windows. Inside, we are writing a book about Bird Year. We hope to have it finished by the end of next summer. We will keep you posted here!

Borscht

Some people try the "100 Mile Diet", where they eat only locally grown food. I'm on a 120 kilometer diet, after cycling a long distance I can eat anything and everything I want. When you are constantly hungry everything is delicious. This is fortunate because under normal conditions, our menu would get repeditive very quickly. Our breakfasts and lunches are the same every day, oatmeal then wraps. Our suppers vary slightly more, we rotate between curry, pasta and burritos. These dishes should each have their own unique flavour, however due to our limited supply of ingredients and cooking supplies, they taste pretty much the same.
A few days ago I made something really different, borscht. Or the closest thing to borscht considering the circumstances. In case an upper class restaraunt would like to serve this borscht variation, I'll share my recipe:
* Two week old beets. We'd purchased them before Winnepeg. They'd been kept in the same scuzzy bag ever since, along with the disgusting end of an old cucumber.
* Two week old onion, same life story as beets.
* Celery
* Oriental snack mix with pumpkin seeds. I'd been carrying this since the Alaska Highway. They had been pulverized, then soaked during our week of rain. The snack mix had found a dark, mildewey spot at the bottom of a saddlebag, only to be discovered when I was on the hunt for ingredients.
* Thai seasonings, left over from a noodle package.
* Curry powder
* Coconut milk
* Olive oil, purchased before Edmonton.
I got hungry before I could wait for it to cook properly. Strangely, some may not have enjoyed it. Admittedly, it does resemble a compolation of ingredients that could be fished from a dumpster. But I loved it.

Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain

"Summer" isn't the right word to describe this season. Winter and spring have come and gone in Ontario, yet summer is missing in action. It has rained on us for eight miserable days strait. If scientists can prove weather like this is linked to climate change, then a mass of Ontarians will probably join pedal for the planet.
But everything the rain brings isn't bad. Really, the rain has been a positive phenomenon. Due to the cold and the wet, the bugs aren't terrible. They're only really bad. None of us have to worry about getting skin cancer, or bad cycling tan lines. Nadia doesn't have to worry about keeping her phone dry anymore. It could be put under a waterfall without the risk of any further damage.
You see, cycling is a great way to spend a "summer"!

Showdown in Regina: Tar Sands vs Mother Earth

A throng of Greenpeace protesters lined the fence that kept the public away from Government House. Some lay like corpses on the sidewalk; their hands painted red, paper tombstones over their heads inscribed with "Dying for Climate Leadership" The Canadian premiers were behind the fence for the Council of the Federation meetings. Numerous organizations had united to plan rallies and protests during the week of the meetings. Our goal was to make a huge racket and force climate change on to the agenda. We hoped that at least one premier would speak out against the tar sands and take the first step down the "green brick road". For most of the week I would be a protester, but this time I had left behind my placard and my Kyoto Plus t-shirt. Instead Martina and I were disguised as reporters, hoping to get up close to the premiers. I was hoping to ask one of them a tough question, Martina was hoping to get a photo of one of them looking awkward. We were soon being grilled by security guards. Our identities were scrutinized, phone calls were made and our bags were searched. We were supposedly with a university radio station, yet I had no recording software. I didn't even know where I was supposed to go. I was hoping that mycluelessness would be overlooked, or that we'd pass as dumb, harmless students. They finally gave us our acredditation passes and we were free to go. A forest of reporters and photographers surrounded Manitoba premier Gary Doer. He answered a few questions then vanished through a door. Quebec's premier stepped up to speak. Soon Saskatchewan premier, Brad "climate criminal" Wall approached the mic. I heard the protesters shouting from outside the compound. "When I say fight for you say justice. Fight for! Justice! Fight for! Justice!" "When I say climate you say justice. Climate! Justice! Climate! Justice!" "When I say Wall you say criminal. Wall! Criminal! Wall! Criminal!" "Mr Wall, as you can hear, the protesters are demanding stronger action on climate change." called out one journalist. "What would you say to them?" Premier Wall launched into a lengthy answer. I couldn't believe the nonsense he spouted. He assured us that Saskatchewan's leadership on combatting climate change is as good if not better than any other jurisdiction in the world. How could he get away with such blatant hogwash? Saskatchewan's target for greenhouse gas emissions reduction for 2020 is 12% higher than than its 1990 levels. The scientists are telling us that we need to cut our emissions by 25-40% below 1990 levels. Brad Wall's head is stuck in the tar sands. He would love for the destructive industry to expand from Alberta into Saskatchewan. The tar sands already releases dozens and dozens of megatonnes of greenhouse gasses into the atmosphere, and leaks deadly toxins into water systems. It is easy to get depressed by the tar sands, by Brad Wall and other short-sighted polititions, yet my week in Regina gave me great cause to hope. I met hundreds of activists and citizens who are part of a grassroots uprising. Our voices are being heard in across Canada; our political leaders will no longer be able to ignore us. I remember a first nations activist, Clayton George Thomas Muller speaking at our rally. He told that during during the civil rights and womens' rights movements, and in every struggle in the history of humantiy there have been tough times. There have been times when bringing about change has been impossible, when the opponent has seemed overwhelmingly powerful. But Clayton reminded us that every time the hard work of grass roots foot soldiers has prevailed, and that change will come. The fight against climate change will be no different.

Rocking Prentice's Constituency Office

Jim Prentice’s photo smiled at us from above the entrance to his office. The environment minister wouldn’t have been smiling so broadly now, if he knew what pedal for the planet was up to. 20 banner waving activists cheered and chanted anti-Prentice messages.
The Canadian Government is consistently ranked at the bottom when it comes to climate action. Canada’s GHG emissions reduction target is only a 3 % reduction from 1990 levels, when many countries have promised to cut there emissions in the range of 25 – 40%. Last year Canada “won” the Colossal Fossil Award for embarrassing lack of action, and Canada is it’s best to defend the title.
Our press releases and pitch calls had succeeded in luring the media. The handful of reporters and camera people starred at the more eccentrically dressed of us with bemused expressions. Steve had become Windy the Unemployed Wind Turbine. Nadia and Martina were Climate Action Super Cyclists, with green tights and superman capes. Someone wore a Grim Reaper outfit; I wasn’t sure which politician he was impersonating.
“OK, now we’re going to rock the Constituency Office!” called Jeh. For Jeh, simple verbs such as enter or visit are too boring. When you’re with Jeh, you don’t go grocery shopping. You rock the grocery isles.
Our delegation rocked its’ way into Prentice’s office. Jeh rocked over to Prentice’s desk and placed a wad of papers on his desk. “OK, now we’re going to give you guys a chant!” announced Jeh, turning to one of Prentice’s aids.
“Sorry, but there are people taking calls from constituents. I’ll have to ask you to be quiet.”
“We understand, but we really want to give you this chant so…”
“Oooh, it’s hot in here, there’s too much carbon in the atmosphere!... When I say Jim you say where are you?... Jim!… Where are you?... Jim!... Where are you?...When I say Climate, you say action… Climate!…Action!... Climate!...Action!...
I guess that Jeh was right when he said we’d be rocking the constituency office.

Day 17 - Km 2019 (Wendy)

I have just rolled into Edmonton with Malkolm. My leg of Pedal for the Planet is over. I am proud to have made it. Tonight I will catch the bus back to Whitehorse.

I came along mainly to provide safety in numbers when passing bears along the Alaska Highway. No sensible bear will get between a mother cyclist and her son. All 16 bears we saw were sensible.

Having safely passed all the bears, I felt really bad the other night when we cycled into the thick of a lightning storm. The lightning got worse as we headed closer to it. Apparently being on rubber tires does not protect you from electrical shocks. The road we were on offered no shelter. I felt very vulnerable.

We stayed in a hotel that night. You could smell smoke. Yikes - the hotel's computer system had just been fried by the storm.
Pedalling the Alaska Highway is not all hardship. Not at all. Wild strawberries for breakfast, for example.

Nine days in...

This is the ninth day of my leg of Pedal for the Planet". My mom and I are in Fort Nelson, BC. We've cycled 979 kilometers so far. On an average day we spend 9 hours on the highway and 10 to 11 hours sleeping. The leftover hours are spent eating, or thinking about eating.
There are three notable events to describe.
1) Some friends of mine, Pete, Anne and John cycled with me on the first day. We stopped at a rest area, and John started up a conversation with some RVers. He told them about Pedal for the Planet. "Malkolm is cycling from Whitehorse to Ottawa to pressure the Canadian Government on climate change, ahead of the huge meeting in Copenhagen."
"So, you're biking across the country for climate change..." said on of the RVers. "What side are you on?"
Wow. How many people to long bike trips to raise support for Tar Sands deregulation?
2) I had a dream that we were cycling along, getting passed by RVs and Semi's. The trucks were loudly revving their engines as they passed us. I woke up and found out that the sound was not roaring engines, but my mom snoring.
3) We've passed 15 bears so far, 5 of which have been Grizzlies. Once, an RVer warned us about a Grizzly and two cubs ahead on the road. They told us that the bears were only "a mile and a half ahead"
We cycled for ages, wondering when we were going to pass the bears. After 10 nervous kilometers we figured that we must have missed them. After 13 kilometers we finally saw the bears. The moral of this story? Don't trust motorists to judge distances!

The Continental Divide

Another message from Ken, Malkolm's father. I got a message last night that Malkolm and Wendy had made it as far as the "Continental Divide" last night. They had helpful (unusual) tail-winds which helped them travel 120 km - great going for fully loaded bikes on the Alaska Highway.

Small note - it seems odd, but they cycled south from the Pacific watershed into the Arctic watershed. The Yukon River flows north and west to the Bering Sea (Pacific), but now the water where they are now flows into the Liard, the Mackenzie and north to the Arctic Ocean.

I expect Wendy will be tired today . . . (Malkolm wanted to go further yesterday, but she put her foot down (off the pedals).

The photo is of Malkolm's friends who joined him for Day 1 ride to Teslin (John Streiker, Peter Heebink, and Ann Middler), with the respective distances they each cycled . . .

Pedaling for the Planet

Hi, I'm Malkolm Boothroyd and I just finished grade 11 in Whitehorse, Yukon. I'm very concerned about climate change and try to reduce my personal carbon footprint. I recently collected more than 400 signatures from concerned northern Youth on a petition asking the Canadian and Yukon Governments to do more about climate change. We presented the petition to the Yukon Minister of the Environment. I've been an avid birder since I was 7, and last year my parents and I cycled more than 20,000 kilometers during our "Bird Year." I identified 548 species and raised more than $25,000 for bird conservation. I also hope I helped to raise awareness about climate change.

I'm excited to be joining "Pedal for the Planet." I'm leaving on June 28th from Whitehorse, aiming to join others in Edmonton on July 16th . . . and then on to Ottawa to light a fire (or is that put out a fire?) under our government. We need to take climate change seriously!

Note from Ken (M's father) - Day 1, Malkolm made it 180 kilometers through the wind and rain to Teslin. His blogs will be sporadic until he gets off the Alaska Highway . . .

Ski-cycling (Ken)

After returning home from Bird Year, we’ve decided to continue our car-less, though not necessarily careless existence. We aren’t sticklers for traveling solely by non-fossil-fuel power, but usually we hop in a vehicle with someone only if they are heading the same way we are anyway.

A couple of days ago I decided to cycle through Whitehorse and up to the cross-country ski trails. With 13,000 miles of cycling behind me, I thought that the trip would be easy. I shoved my boots in the bottom of a backpack and wedged my skis and poles in beside them. I wobbled out of the driveway with the ski tips wobbling above my head like willows bending in a stiff breeze. A flock of Bohemian Waxwings in the spruce trees across the street ignored me as did a solitary Raven out on business of its own.

The side streets were clogged with snow – no problem for the trucks and snow-machines that whizzed by me. I tried the sidewalks which were mainly clear of snow. That worked well, until my skis listed to the side and smashed into a road sign. I slithered to a stop. I never had to cope with this problem last June in Texas.

After that I paid more attention to my unwieldy load, weaving carefully around signs and overhanging branches. I only made as far as downtown on the bike. I locked it outside the grocery store and hike the last few kilometers to the trails.

The next day our friend Lewis cycled to our place with his skies safely and cleverly bungee-corded along the frame of his bike. I’ll try that next time.

Haines Report (Wendy)

YA-HOO! We just returned from a week in Haines, Alaska. We picked blueberries with the determination of blueberry lovers who didn’t get to pick last year. Now we have 18 “blueberry pie equivalents” neatly stacked in the freezer. Also, sour cherries and pesto made from beach lovage. We have jars of dried mushrooms –cauliflower, chanterelles and boletes.

Ken usually catches enough pink salmon to fill a cooler. Last week a young brown bear with blond ears interfered. This bear swam out to the island where Ken was fishing, chewed on his box of lures, and then returned to shore and lay down at the place where he would walk back. Ken realized if he caught anything he couldn’t bring it home. Our friends made up for our shortage of pinks. They gave us sockeye salmon, halibut and crabs. We are lucky ducks.

The front page story in the Chilkat Valley News was about the outdoor ping pong table that our friend Eric built out of concrete. We helped rig up a canvas tarp over it – the tarp weighed about as much as the concrete table. We had a table tennis tournament while a winter wren chirped from the wood pile.

When we landed in Haines, curtains of rain glistened in front of the dark green forest. This has been the coldest summer there since 1974, with only 16 days reaching 60 degrees Fahrenheit. I put on all my long underwear. I thanked Malkolm for reminding me to bring rain pants. I got chilled, riding the ten miles out to our friends’ place outside town.

Cruise ship passengers also cycled in Haines that day. One guide led a bike tour along the Chilkoot River.”I apologized about the rain,” he said. “But they did not mind it at all. They were happy to experience rain. They were from southern California.”

All Media is Good Media (Malkolm)

“Admittedly, there are few would ever undertake a year-long journey in search of different species of mice.”

That was printed in the Yukon News, just after we arrived home in Whitehorse, Yukon. We were joined by friends and family for the final 70 mile ride back home, after we cycled over the White Pass from Skagway. Then we were greeted by a flurry of interviews. But that whacky statement in the Yukon News was not the first of its kind.

Supposedly any press attention, whether it is positive or negative, accurate or riddled with errors, helps your project. We’ve been blessed with plenty of media attention during our travels, but nearly every time there have been mistakes, such as:

A TV program from our home in Whitehorse superimposed a silent clip of us all chuckling, when our voices were discussing the decline of Spotted Owls.

A news station in Florida showed footage of a Turkey Vulture while I said, “There’s a Bald Eagle!”

A newspaper in Florida wrote that the big year world record holder traveled 100,000 miles, (he traveled 270,000 air miles) and mentioned that he raised 60,000 dollars (as far as I know he raised no money, though probably spent way more than that amount on travel expenses).

An article that was syndicated to big city papers throughout Texas diminished Ken’s 57 year old age to 16.

But not all articles about us are flawed. Jane Braxton Little, the author that wrote the Audubon Magazine article (March/April 2008) meticulously went over every quote with us, and Audubon’s fact checker made sure the article was completely accurate.

If you find any inconsistencies in this blog, shhhh!

Memory Lane Blues (Ken)

Yesterday we cycled north down Memory Lane. Memory Lane, aka Chuckanut Drive, just south of Bellingham, Washington. The Chestnut-backed Chickadees, Swainson’s Thrushes and Winter Wrens were singing, just like a year ago when we were heading south.

“Today I feel sad,” Wendy told us. “When we were here before we had a year of feedom before us, and now it’s almost over.”

Malkolm looked into his bowl of cereal, bananas and orange juice. We had forgotten to buy milk yesterday. “I don’t know if I can finish this,” he said, gazing into the brownish-orange glop in his bowl.

I didn’t ask him if he was missing the freedom of the road.

Later today we are boarding a ferry north to Skagway. We’ll taste freedom again for a couple of days when we ride over the White Pass back to Whitehorse. Then, I hope, we’ll start thinking of the next adventure.

CBC, Kiwis & a Coincidence (Wendy)

A security guard buzzed Malkolm and I through the bullet proof doors at Canadian Broadcasting Corporation’s Vancouver building. He directed us down a long corridor to Studio 5. We passed a lot of other studios on the way, but what I noticed was the large room for storing bikes. At studio 5 we met Rick Cluff, who has a huge smiling face. He interviewed us for “Sounds Like Canada”. It airs right across the country.

Think globally, act locally. Neil and Hazel MacMillan are sheep ranchers near the Bay of Islands in New Zealand. Hazel volunteers in the annual kiwi census, sitting up at night and listening for the whistles of these rare birds. They wrote to our website. “We have fenced one area of native bush this year (from our stock getting in there ) and are about to do a second one where we often hear the kiwi” Habitat protection at home....Way to go, Neil and Hazel!

Flashback - We rode the Greyhound bus from Ft Stockton TX to El Paso. Lugging my bulky, heavy carry-on bags, I sqeeezed into the last empty seat, near the back of the bus. The bus was full of young families. A baby squawked. Beside me sat a friendly young man heading home from auto mechanic’s college. “Where is Albuquerque?” he asked. Anticipating the long ride to Vancouver, I had decided this was the right time to tackle my book club’s chosen book. I pulled out War and Peace. Pencil in hand I started to read, scribbling notes in margins and cross referencing names. The man behind me tapped my shoulder. “Want to see something funny?” he asked. He showed me his book: War and Peace. Two War and Peaces in one Greyhound bus. What are the chances of that?

Boring Blog (Makolm)

Its a cold and nippy 70 degrees here in Vancouver. Brrr! But its a nice change from 110 degree heat that we were slogging through a few weeks ago. I know that my blogs are getting repetitive so I promise that I will I never mention the"heat", "degrees" or "110"again!
In Vancouver we've seen things that we haven't seen in ages, a Yukon liscence plate and thousands of cyclists (are there that many cyclists in all of Texas?)
Then we'll take the ferry down the coast to Skagway, Alaska and cycle over the pass back home. Then we'll embark on the task of figuring out who gets the Bird Day Challenge prizes. That will be fun. Sorry about this boring blog.

You know it ain't easy . . . (Ken)

We thought that the challenging part of Bird Year was behind us. We’d survived January’s bitter cold and headwinds. We’d dodged drug-runners and illegal immigrants crossing the Rio Grande. We’d coped with the searing Texas heat. We should have known that we faced one more hurdle: getting home from Big Bend.

We didn’t have time to cycle since Malkolm has to be back for Grade 11 at the end of August. We knew that jetting north would be the least fossil-fuel-friendly. Eventually we decided to take a Greyhound bus to Albuquerque, a train to Vancouver and a ferry to Skagway, Alaska. Then we could ride 110 miles over the White Pass back home to Whitehorse.

We quickly learned that ground transportation isn’t as easy as it sounds. When we tried to switch busses in Fort Stockton, the driver calmly informed us that the bus was full. It didn’t seem to matter that we had reservations. In El Paso, our bikes and duffle bags were almost left behind. Today we learned that our train is 6 hours late. We don’t know what that means for our connections, and no one is answering the phone at Amtrak.

I wish we were still cycling.

Building Character (Wendy)

Big Bend National Park was every bit as hot as we were afraid it would be. Three good things about the heat: (1) We learned that we could survive in that harsh environment - it built our characters. (2) I never had to use a towel for the last 6 weeks of the trip. (3) Dousing yourself in cold water is fun.

We stayed one day longer than we had planned at Rio Grande Village, the hottest place. Beside the Rio Grande I felt like I was inside a salon hair dryer, set on “high”.

We ended Bird Year at Carolyn Ohl-Johnson’s oasis in the Christmas Mountains. The day after Bird Year ended, we rode into Alpine: 71 miles into a head wind and up 2000 feet. That built character too.

We have become strong riders, but not strong bike mechanics. Ken, Malkolm and I attempted to remove pedals, seat posts and handlebars that were firmly fused to our bikes after a year of hard use. After 2 hours of struggling we had removed 2 seat posts. Humbled, we carried our bikes around the house to where Carolyn’s husband, Hugh, was working in his shop. “Hand me that cheater”, he said. Within minutes, he had our bikes apart. Dismantling bikes is about as stressful as a moderate headwind.

Flames in the forest (Malkolm & Christianne)

Carrying our sleeping bags in our hands and our food and water in a small day pack, we hiked high to camp in the Chisos Mountain back-country. We decided to leave our tent behind and hoped there would be no thunder or lightning. The forest here is very dry and the fire danger extreme. Just as we were falling asleep we heard a chilling scream, most likely a mountain lion. All night we wondered if something was creeping around just beyond the reach of our flashlights. As a comfort, we heard tons of Whipoorwills and Flammulated Owls - both new birds for me.

When we woke up I caught a glimpse of what looked like a Flame-colored Tanager. It's a bird that's supposed to live in Mexico and has only been seen a 1/2 dozen times in Texas. However, the bird flew away before I could get a great look. After an hour of tramping around in the forest, we managed to hear a different Flame-colored Tanager singing - a female. I was able to get some good photos of this ultra-rarity.

Fortunately, the only fires in the forest were Flame-colored Tanagers and Flammulated Owls!

My total is now 545 species, 200 short of the Big Year record.

...............................

The picture was taken in the mountains SE of Albuquerque this spring using a motion sensor/camera.

Next week Malkolm, Ken & Wendy will bicycle down from the relatively cooler Chisos Basin to Rio Grande Village, where temperatures are 105 degrees F. They will be looking for the Black Hawk and Zone-tailed Hawk. 

My thanks to the BBNP personnel who have been so helpful in getting phone messages to the Bird Year!