Blue Goose ~ Day 21

June 21, 2014 ~ Williston, ND to Glasgow MT

Finally, I escaped into Montana and spent the afternoon on the Medicine Lake NWR, which is similar to Lostwood. When I first got there, I was pissed because the gate was closed to the headquarters and I made some calls, getting, of course, it being Saturday afteroon, recordings. I complained and said I would not have driven 50 miles round trip had I known the auto route wasn’t available and that such information should be on the website, feeling kind of tight ass about whining. Still, this would have been the second time I was at Medicine Lake with no access.  But since I was up there anyway, I thought I would explore the roads near the refuge and soon discovered that had I driven about 50 feet further I would have seen the auto route which was open, so I immediately called back and apologized to the voice recording. It was sunny but blowing hard. Still, with a hat and sunscreen, I stood with my scope for an hour, looking and listening for what is described as one of the "most common" birds on the refuge: the Baird's Sparrow, which I did hear at least once but never definitely saw.

Medicine Lake NWR - MT

I drove the rest of the auto route with Medicine Lake on my right. At the end were wetlands highlighted by the late afternoon sun and the usual marsh fauna.

Medicine Lake NWR - ND

Only occasionally do I see another car out on these refuges. I can understand why one probably has to be of a certain age to appreciate and need the solace of nature but it seems few people come. Maybe that will change as I move around the country.  

I am coming to understand that the refuges are extensively managed. On the specific and generic web sites, there are descriptions of what happens at each site. And there are often site-specific signs, either along the refuge roads or at the Visitor Centers describing the missions: why burning occurs for example, or why cattle graze or why water is impounded and drawn down. The National Wildlife Refuges are a part of the US Fish and Wildlife Service, so as noted before, one of the primary goals is to provide opportunities for hunters and fishermen, which does somehow seem counterintuitive to the "refuge” concept, but there are strict regulations regarding what, when and how certain abundant species may be taken. Ducks Unlimited contributes millions of dollars to help maintain this system. Protected and endangered species are isolated from the public although they also are managed in various ways which (one hopes) will give wildlife biologists more information towards a goal of preserving the species.  

It was 100 miles to Glasgow and a brilliant late afternoon with sun saturating the landscape as I took an alternate route part of the way, traveling on the Fort Peck Indian Reservation, meeting US2 at Brockton, the tiny village where I got a speeding ticket a few years ago by the tribal police for going 35 in a 25 mph zone. One learns to creep through these rez towns henceforward. So I was driving south on Montana route 344 and kept seeing birds in the road. There being barely any traffic, I started slowing down and checking them out. They were mostly Horned Larks with much paler yellow throats than the larks I see in Michigan, but soon I saw a life bird: McCown’s Longspur, that Sibley describes as “uncommon and local,” and I had a big smile on my face. So damn cool, these new birds. 

The early summer fields were green with occasional small marshy areas, very gentle but long grades, small creeks, ranch houses in the distance, usually with hardwood trees in the yard, old grey / brown weathered abandoned houses which were once homes, and which I can never drive by without wondering about the families who once lived in them. 

I got gas in Poplar, still on the rez, with all the energy and activity one sees on Indian reservations: men with long black hair, women with kids, dogs randomly running about, older cars full of people, windows open, teenagers with cell phones, a rag in a gas tank, a baby in a car-seat with a bottle in her mouth; colorful clothes drying on a clothesline in the sun and wind. 

I stayed in the area of the Cottonwood Inn in Glasgow and had dinner there, which was a pretty awful beef stir fry with fatty, gristly beef chunks. Why did I think this might be tasty? Well, because about 10% of the time, it is. But I stayed in their parking lot without problems, so eating their marginal dinner was my payment. Don’t ask; don’t tell is my mantra for finding a suitable sleeping place.