What am I trying to illustrate in the above photo (a picture of cattle and elephant dung)? That conservation planning is a pile of poop?

No. But this mixture of excrement does show why such planning needs to incorporate extreme events like drought or flooding – especially for the impacts of those events on local people.

In the place where I took this photo — Mt Kenya – livestock herders have moved into protected areas. Why? Because of a protracted and devastating drought — one Kenya is (hopefully) at the end of. The drought has caused the displacement of huge numbers of people and the estimated deaths of half the livestock.

In times this tough, local herders have been forced to graze their animals in protected areas around the country – areas normally set aside for nature and tourism. I can’t blame them — but in a country that relies on tourism so heavily (it’s the second largest sector of the economy), this development is big and troubling news.

Obviously, conservationists should be planning for such extreme events. They will occur; we just don’t know when. We do often include in our plans responses to long-term environmental events (e.g., blow-downs, hurricanes, etc) and critical threats (such as habitat fragmentation and large-scale agriculture). We are even slowly coming to grips with consequences of climate change. But how often do we consider the effects of extreme events on local people, especially the poor, in the areas in which we work?

Probably not nearly enough.

Why should conservationists do this kind of planning? Because quite often the people living in and around the areas we are interested in protecting rely on their immediate surroundings for sustenance. And how extreme events effect these people will likely tell us how they will in turn use those local resources (in many cases, such as around Mt. Kenya, for their survival). By planning for these events and the ramifications on both nature and people, the effects can be at least reduced or muted.

To that end, many Conservancy projects have indirect benefits to people; but not many plan for direct ones. One example of direct benefits to people is grassbanking – the setting aside of land that can be used for grazing livestock in the event of an extreme drought. It’s simple and effective, and something the Conservancy has done in areas such as Montana, and in Kenya, with our partners at the Northern Rangelands Trust (http://northernrangelands.wildlifedirect.org/) where the grassbanks are being put to good use right now – helping both wildlife and people get through the current drought. And this grassbanking in Kenya has helped reduce pressure on protected areas and keep many more people off of Mt Kenya.

We will get droughts, or floods, or extremes of some sort or another — and people, especially those in poorer areas and countries, will turn to nature to help them through those tough times. We should make sure that nature is resilient enough not only to endure these extreme events, but also the pressures that will be brought to bear by local people — especially when those people’s very survival is at stake.

(Image courtesy Timothy Boucher/TNC.)

Bogdkhan Uul, just south of Ulanbator, Mongolia, is the oldest national park in the world. That’s right — it predates Yellowstone by over 100 years. Established by the Mongolian government in 1778, it was originally chartered by Ming Dynasty officials in the 1500s as an area to be kept off limits to extractive uses, protected for its beauty and sacred nature.

In 1778, it had 23 full time park rangers on staff. Today, there are only five. And therein lies a tale of a traditional conservation ethic degraded by modern politics and pressures.

We set out from Ulanbator at 7am by taxi to the monastery site of Manzushir, about an hour south, with the idea of walking across Bogdkhan back to UB. Established in 1733, Manzushir had over 20 temples and was home to 350 monks. The Soviets reduced it to rubble and killed or exiled all of the monks in the 1930s as Mongolian Buddhism was nearly stamped out because of its resistance and threat to Stalinism. The monastery is about 100 acres in size, located in a south facing valley below some jagged rock cliffs, and nestled within the boundaries of Bogdkhan.

In the cold early morning, the day before Halloween, walking around the ruins, half-walls, hundreds of terraces and foundations, and a lone restored building, we could almost hear the whirring of prayer wheels, see the young novitiates carrying water from the stream for the day. We could hear the echoes of the lives spent here in devotion and ended in a spasm of political and religious atrocity. Mongolian Buddhism, whose closest relative is Tibetan Buddhism, is slowly rebuilding monasteries and communities — but, as with many ancient traditions in Mongolia, the loss of 3 generations to Soviet interference has left these traditions ill-equipped to cope with the modern world.

An interesting parallel is what happened to the herding culture of Mongolia under the same pressures. In the 1930s and 40s, the traditional pastoralists of this country — herding groups and clans that had sustainably grazed the grasslands for at least 1,000 years using complex social, cultural, geographic and meteorological systems and cues — were forced into shared ownership communes and collectives. Some groups managed to integrate their historical knowledge into the collective, some ignored the collective and kept their traditions, and many others lost their practices to the Soviet socialist experiment. In 1990, the date of Mongolia’s independence, the claim of one of the world’s last nomadic people to the land that had sustained them for generations was in serious doubt. And the last 20 years has done nothing to secure their rights, as the government of Mongolia has issued mining leases on their lands without consultation, partially privatized some lands, and failed to put in place trespass protections.

Bogdkhan is about 100,000 acres, mostly forested mountainous country, surrounded by grasslands to all sides except to the north where the city bounds it. Tsetseegun Mountain is at the center of it, one of the 4 sacred mountains around Ulanbator. There is really only one trail into the center of the park, access is limited, yet the past 20 years have seen a number of illegal encroachments and uses inside the boundaries of the strictly protected area. These have happened when some official of the city of UB or a Mongolian ministry official issues an official-looking piece of paper to a businessman to build a Ger Camp (tourist tent) or to a Middle Eastern sheik to build a huge luxury home.

It also happens when local residents get hungry and look to the park to hunt food or graze animals. Twenty years ago, big herds of Red Deer, close relatives of elk, would walk through the middle of UB on their way between seasonal grazing areas; wolves were occasionally heard on the outskirts of town. The pressures of population, corrupting influence of money and the severance of a multi-generational institution of conservation have slowly frayed the quality of this, the world’s first national park.

East Asian Buddhism has the concept of Pure Land, a realm existing in the primordial universe outside of space-time, produced by a buddha’s merit. It is tempting to think of several hundred years of monks and nuns contemplating the celestial in the bosom of earthly Bogdkhan. And equally tempting to hope that some day, this place will achieve again the ideal of conservation that was started there hundreds of years ago. Until then, perhaps the ghosts of nuns and monks will mingle with the ghosts of the red deer in the Pure Land realm.

(Image 1: Bogdkhan Uul Strictly Protected Area, Mongolia. Credit: yeowatzup/Flickr through a Creative Commons license. Image 2: Ruins of Manzushir Monastery. Credit: Yaan/Wikimedia Commons through a Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 3.0 license.)

Blane Heumann is director of fire management for The Nature Conservancy.

On August 26, a controlled burn (also known as a prescribed fire) got away from a federal fire crew in Yosemite National Park. The Big Meadow fire, which was planned to span one day and 91 acres, is being mopped up today after having spread across more than 7,400 acres of the park. The town of Foresta was evacuated for several days because of the blaze.

Like other escaped fires before it, this incident has raised awareness of a fact that every prescribed fire practitioner knows: No matter how careful you are, no matter how much training your staff have received, any time you light a match, there’s a chance that something will go wrong.

Maybe the wind picks up unexpectedly and the fire jumps the firebreak, contingency plans fail, and a barn, a house or a pine plantation burns. Or maybe some piece of equipment fails and somebody working on the fire gets hurt. Then there’s the smoke to worry about… It’s a fair question: With so much at stake, is it worth it?

First, there’s a lot that can be done to minimize the chance that something will go wrong. And a lot can be done to respond to unexpected events and contain or minimize unfavorable outcomes. In fact, as The Nature Conservancy’s director of fire management, it’s my full-time job to maintain and improve our fire staff’s ability to anticipate and respond to the unexpected. And the Conservancy staff’s record is one that considerably exceeds U.S. averages for both safety and operational cost efficiency. But yes, we are not, nor will we ever be perfect.

Second, the decision to burn or not to burn is made on a place-by-place basis. Some areas are inherently more difficult to burn safely than others, and it’s also true that some landscapes will benefit from fire more than others. We burn where and when our calculus indicates that the benefits to biodiversity far outweigh the costs and potential negative consequences. So it’s a matter of striking the right balance, and I believe that the Conservancy as well as our partners are generally prudent in this regard. But again, as the Big Meadow Fire shows, not perfect.

Most terrestrial ecosystems in North America need fire — to one degree or another — to persist. I’ve never been to Yosemite, but it’s possible, maybe even likely, when all is said and done the Big Meadow fire will have a net positive impact ecologically, and improve habitat for wildlife such as mule deer and cavity-nesting birds.

Perhaps it will reduce fuels in that portion of the park, thereby allowing future managers to let naturally ignited fires take their course. And who knows — maybe the fire will even help some of the affected areas better withstand future climate change impacts.

With 80 percent of U.S. forests and rangelands moderately or severely degraded, and with climate change making the situation worse, something needs to be done. In places where it’s not safe to let naturally ignited wildfires burn, that “something” is often controlled burning.

With more than 30 state-based fire programs that have collectively burned more than a million acres since the 1960’s, the Conservancy is working hard to do its part. (We also get a lot of help on the fireline from federal agencies and other partners.)

In some ways, it’s getting harder for land managers to maintain our current levels of burning, let alone ramp up efforts to make a bigger difference. More and more people are building homes in and around natural areas. While the majority of Americans do understand tlhat fire can play a vital role in nature, people are also quite fearful of fire, especially when someone is planning a controlled blaze close to their neighborhood.

It’s important to realize that prescribed burning can have direct benefits for people as well as nature. For example, many ranchers know that a well-timed fire can improve forage for livestock. And some experts think proactive controlled burning might have prevented the deadly Station fire near Los Angeles.

So fire practitioners must weigh a whole host of potential benefits against the actual and potential costs, and it’s conceivable that we could be taking a risk when we decide not to burn. Clearly this is not easy. But is it worth it? The answer is a qualified yes.

(Image: Bird’s nest in Shawangunk Mountains — wildlife commonly persists, and sometimes thrives, in fire’s immediate aftermath. Credit: Gabe Chapin/TNC.)

Renewable energy is poised to be the wave of the future, but what impact will it have on landscapes and wildlife?

In the United States, at least 67 million acres will be developed for new energy projects by 2030. While these projects — including wind, solar and biofuels — will help reduce carbon emissions and energy use, they will require a lot of land that is currently open or undeveloped — land that wildlife depend on.

So how can we develop new energy projects that don’t harm nature or wildlife? One key aspect is proper siting of projects, says Nature Conservancy scientist Rob McDonald. He co-authored a new study published in today’s PLoS One online journal that examines the impacts of “energy sprawl” — and says we need to start thinking about it now to ensure that new energy doesn’t harm nature and wildlife.

We sat down with Rob to find out more about the study and its findings:

Q. First of all, can you explain exactly what “energy sprawl” is and why it matters now?

Rob McDonald: “Energy sprawl” is our term for the amount of space it takes to produce energy, and the general tendency for energy production to take more space over time. Energy development can, if improperly sited, impact natural habitats and the wildlife that depend upon them, so The Nature Conservancy is concerned about energy sprawl’s potential impact.

We initiated the current study because it’s a moment of unprecedented change in the energy sector. As Congress considers ways to reign in U.S. greenhouse gas emissions, there will be a switch to more renewable energy technologies that will need more space. In this study we wanted to quantify the potential future scope of these energy sprawl impacts.

Q. What did you find out — will new energy production in the United States have significant impacts on nature?

Rob McDonald: U.S. energy policy picks which technologies are winners and losers, and in the process picks which habitats will be impacted and which won’t.

For instance, if carbon capture and storage becomes available for coal-burning power plants — which would require significant government subsidy to spur its development and implementation — then coal mining has to continue to feed those power plants, with impacts on specific habitats.

On the other hand, since the United States can meet some of its energy needs through the use of coal, the availability of carbon capture and storage for coal means that there would be relatively less growth in the wind power industry, limiting the impact from that technology in windy parts of the country.

But there is a potential for a fairly large amount of energy sprawl, with or without action by the U.S. Congress on a cap-and-trade bill. It turns out that the majority of the land-use impacts for producing energy will come from growing biomass for liquid fuels like ethanol, as mandated by the renewable fuel standard and other laws. Those laws are already in place, so whatever Congress does with climate change policy will not affect their energy sprawl impact.

Q. Were you able to identify what types of new energy projects will have the most impact on nature? The least?

Rob McDonald: It’s important to remember that energy sprawl concerns are only one of several ways to evaluate different energy production techniques, including climate change implications, cost efficiency, job creation, and issues of energy independence. Moreover, the environmental impact of much energy sprawl could be limited with proper siting, a philosophy The Nature Conservancy calls Energy By Design.

From the perspective of The Nature Conservancy, any new energy project that helps reduce U.S. emissions of greenhouse gases while avoiding impacts to sensitive species is a good project. We are not specifically advocating for any one energy production technology, just serious consideration of the potential environmental impacts of energy sprawl.

Q. So how do we proceed with energy development on a mass scale — 67 million acres — in a way that also takes into account impacts to nature and wildlife?

Rob McDonald: There are three things that conservationists can advocate for to avoid impacts to nature, or minimize them:

• Maximize energy conservation and energy efficiency as much as possible. Saving energy saves land by avoiding energy development.
• Build incentives for the use of abandoned or degraded land. Particularly for biomass growth for liquid fuels or for electricity, natural habitat impacts could be minimized if the clearing of natural habitat was avoided.
• Where possible, site new energy development only where sensitive species will not be impacted.

Q. But how can we make sure that policymakers are taking into account the potential impact of energy development on lands and wildlife?

Rob McDonald: The Nature Conservancy is talking with policymakers on Capitol Hill all the time to make sure that energy sprawl concerns are one of the issues that are on the table as energy policy is discussed. It’s been difficult, because we want to stress our strong support for climate change legislation while describing how the details of the legislation can be altered to minimize energy sprawl.

The same kinds of discussions are taking place in many states where the Conservancy works, as several state legislatures consider their own energy policy. Members of the Conservancy who feel passionate about this issue should contact their local office to find ways to get involved.

Q. Finally, biofuels — good or bad?

Rob McDonald: I’m not interested in labeling any technology as either good or bad. Biomass production for biofuels or for electricity will be one important part of a new energy system that avoids catastrophic climate change, and should be. Biomass production can create jobs, promote energy independence, and in some cases limit carbon dioxide emissions, and those benefits need to be compared to the potential negative impacts of energy sprawl.

Sadly, it is getting hard to have a rational, scientific debate about those pluses and minuses, because there is a lot of rhetoric out there from both sides that makes simplistic arguments about the worth of biofuels and attacks all data that isn’t consistent with their preconceived conclusions

So, I think the good versus bad debate is a bit of a distraction, and has sadly led to people not discussing siting issues or energy efficiency issues as much as they should.

(Image: Antelope grazing near wind turbines. Source: Carl Stone/istockphoto.com.)

Here’s an update on the whereabouts of the Long-billed Curlews that were tagged in Montana this past May, the 7 birds seemed to have temporarily settled down. We’ll see if they stay there or continue to move as fall draws nearer.

Of the 7 birds, 3 are now in the southern United States and 4 are in northern Mexico. Two U.S. birds are in Texas (1 in west Texas, the other in the panhandle, not too far from Amarillo) and one in New Mexico (southeast, east of Roswell).  The 4 Mexican birds are widely scattered, from 1 in northwestern Chihuahua in the west to 1 in northeastern Tamaulipas (just south of the Rio Grande) in the east. Interestingly, the other 2 birds are right about in between in the same area near the border of Durango, Chihuahua, and Coahuila.

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service has just issued a Status Assessment and Conservation Plan for the curlew — a must read for all you curlew fans!  You can find it by clicking here.  In the meantime, stay tuned for more updates on the whereabouts of this fascinating species.

(Image: Long-billed curlews. Credit: mikebaird through a Creative Commons license.)

500,000 sandhill cranes roosting along the Platte River.

One million wildebeests migrating across the Serengeti plains.

Ten million bats emerging from a Texas cave.

Literally uncountable masses of mayflies hatching along a beautiful spring creek.

Perhaps nothing captures a naturalist’s imagination quite like the world’s great herds, flocks and swarms.

There’s something beyond words when you see a herd of animals that stretches to the horizon in every direction, as is the case with the Serengeti’s wildebeest, zebras and gazelles.

And accompanying such a great herd is a full range of other life: from the big scavengers like lions and cheetahs, to scavengers like vultures and jackals, to the much smaller beneficiaries like dung beetles.

All survive due to the massive concentration of prey.

But such sightings can also remind us what we’ve lost. After all, giant concentrations of animals used to be everywhere… just a normal part of a landscape. Can we save those that are left?

I once stood on a remote section of Assateague Island and watched a massive flock of snow geese that took 45 minutes to pass — an awe-inspiring sight.

Once upon a time, such abundance of waterfowl was taken for granted, with similar flocks — even larger flocks — stretching across the Chesapeake Bay, throughout the prairie pothole country of the Midwest, indeed across most of the North American continent.

Most of those waterfowl flocks are gone, just as are most of the 30 million bison that once roamed the plains, the migrating salmon that turned lakes red in Idaho, the billions of passenger pigeons that darkened the skies.

Now it’s imperative that we conserve what we have left. It’s not always easy.

Great concentrations of animals offer the illusion that such abundance does not need our help. That’s hardly the case.

In the 1990’s, millions of the weird-looking saiga antelope roamed the Russian and Central Asian steppe. Their population was widely considered secure. In less than two decades, just 50,000 remain.

Bats are disappearing due to the white-nose fungus; sharks disappear due to overfishing.

The reason many animals congregate in large numbers is to migrate, which means they need large swaths of habitat — sometimes across thousands or even millions of acres.

But it’s easier to protect that habitat now than to try to restore wildlife populations once they’re gone.

Of course, when you ears are echoing with the cries of millions of birds in the Galapagos, or when you’re standing underneath 10 million bats as they flicker out of a cave, looking like thick smoke stretching across the Texas Hill Country, you don’t think of loss or opportunity or even conservation.

You just enjoy the moment — the sheer exuberance of so much wildness all around you.

Such inspiring spectacles are still a part of our world. The question is: Do we have the will and foresight to protect these natural treasures?

(Photo: Millions of bats depart Frio Cave, Texas. Credit: Matt Miller)

While I personally would never advocate that bloggers like myself flog merchandise, I have to make an exception for a very valuable thing you should consider purchasing for your very own: a Migratory Bird Hunting and Conservation Stamp.

This stamp, better known as the “Duck Stamp,” is an inexpensive way to support the conservation of bird habitat, validate your hunting permit, gain admission to U.S. National Wildlife Refuges, and collect beautiful artwork on stamps. (The full history of the Duck Stamp and its accomplishments in supporting conservation is well told by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and in a recent story in Nature Conservancy magazine.)

Buying the stamp is a great way to spend $15. Why?

• If you hunt waterfowl, you need one to validate your federal hunting permit.
• If you visit National Wildlife Refuges, it will get you in for free (though, truth be told, not all refuges charge an admission fee).
• However, the best reason is that every dollar of your purchase goes directly into supporting new land acquisition in the National Wildlife Refuge system.

Some of the well-known refuges in the country whose acquisition has been fully or largely supported by Duck Stamp funds include:

• Sacramento (California)
• Monte Vista (Colorado)
• Bombay Hook (Delaware)
• Quivira (Kansas)
• Parker River (Massachusetts)
• Edwin B. Forsythe (New Jersey)
• Bosque del Apache (New Mexico)
• Montezuma (New York)
• Pea Island (North Carolina)
• Chase Lake (North Dakota)
• Laguna Atascosa (Texas), and
• Horicon (Wisconsin)

Without the funds from Duck Stamp purchases, we would have fewer places to go birding, hiking, and otherwise enjoy nature and the spectacle of migratory birds.

Duck Stamps are easy to obtain. If your local post office or sporting goods store does not sell them, they are available via this link or through the U.S. Postal Service.  The stamps are valid for one year from July 1 until June 30 of the following year.

What are you waiting for?

(Image: 2009-2010 Migratory Bird Hunting and Conservation Stamp. Credit: U.S. Department of the Interior.)

Scientists trying to explain climate change might take note of a story in the latest edition of Newsweek magazine. It’s an elegantly written piece that discusses big scientific concepts such as connectivity, biodiversity and climate change in a way that neither dumbs down the science nor leaves the reader lost in a tangle of intimidating jargon.

In this case, the laboratory is a magnificent landscape known as the Crown of the Continent — 10 million acres that encompass frigid mountain tops, high meadows and sweeping forests. Within its wild heart, not a single species has blinked out of existence since Lewis and Clark first catalogued its natural wonders. The Crown is also a top conservation priority for The Nature Conservancy in Montana.

The focus of the story is the elusive Canada lynx and its favorite meal: the snowshoe hare. The fate of lynx is tied directly to the well-being of the snowshoe hare — and both are extremely threatened by the impacts of climate change on the Crown. They are in fact, the canaries in this climatic coal mine.

What the article fails to mention is that there are other threats to the fragile toehold of wildlife on the Crown – the biggest of which is human development. Given the Crown’s natural splendor, it’s no wonder that people are clamoring to stake out their little piece of paradise here. The pressure for development is huge and over time has resulted in second homes popping up deeper and deeper into the forests.

The Nature Conservancy seized the  opportunity when Plum Creek, a timber company that had diversified into a real estate investment trust, agreed to sell some of its vast holdings on the Crown. We’re in the process of purchasing more than 310,000 acres of Plum Creek land. The Montana Legacy Project , as the project is known, includes large portions of critical habitat not only for lynx, but grizzlies, wolverines, cougars and the full complement of animals that have existed here for centuries. It also includes vital connections between the habitats that these animals need now, and which will be even more crucial as climate change forces them to move as that habitat disappears.

Kat Imhoff is state director for The Nature Conservancy in Montana.

(Image: Snowshoe hare. Credit: Charlie Ott.)

Here in Washington, where I work on environmental policy for The Nature Conservancy, politics often passes for actual information about the outside world.

Blogs, e-newsletters, and print dailies present a continuing stream of commentary on political alignment and conflict over issues. The energy and climate change legislation now being taken up by the U.S. Senate is rich territory for exactly this sort of thing, particularly because the outcome is uncertain.

But while the politics are admittedly important, it is easy for people here in D.C. to lose sight of the real-world objectives and the real-world context for lawmaking.

Not so easy, however, for those of us at the Conservancy — because we are so firmly attached to the outside world by our continuing connections with colleagues who live, work and travel in the real places where we do conservation. This connection was brought home to me this last week by two visits from colleagues:

• Bill Ginn, our chief conservation officer, just returned from visiting our program in Mongolia where he reported learning that 850 rivers and 1,100 lakes have dried up in a longstanding drought and that temperatures have increased 2 degrees centigrade in the last 10 years. Combined with increases in grazing intensity, the drought threatens to turn man of Mongolia’s productive grasslands into desert — a threat to traditional herders and native wildlife.

• And I met with Patrick McCarthy from our Africa program, who on his recent trip to the Zambezi River basin saw evidence of severe flooding caused by the kind of unprecedented local rainfall events that we are learning are characteristic of a changing climate. Here, too, the impacts on human communities were devastating. The likely reaction — more dam building and levee construction — could doom the wetlands so important to the Zambezi’s native species.

Why are these fragments of the larger reality of climate change so important to the policy debate about climate change legislation in Washington? Because much of that debate has been devolved to questions of cost.

The cost of reducing carbon emissions in the near term is played against what are characterized as uncertain future risks. Temperatures inside the Washington Beltway have been quite comfortable this summer, so the question is now being asked: “What are we sacrificing for?”

The on-the-ground experience backed by the overwhelming science, however, is that climate change is real, happening now, and represents far more severe risks to global stability and security and to our lives here in the United States than are being acknowledged in the ongoing debate on the climate change bill.

After the 9/11 tragedy, much was made about the failure of security agencies to connect the dots that, had they been interpreted properly, might have averted the terrorist bombings. At the Conservancy, our staff and scientists on the ground across the country and around the world are seeing lots of climate change dots.

We are connecting them, as are the world’s best scientists. The picture that has emerged is one of a far reaching and, likely, irreversible human and ecological disaster unless we take steps to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. So it is critically important for the Conservancy to continue to gather information from the field, for our scientists to interpret that information in the context of climate science and for us to express our findings to the folks engaged in the political process here in Washington.

And, finally, there is also a great deal of evidence that acting in time based on that evidence is not so much a cost as an investment in the future. As has been said by the members of the U.S. Climate Action Partnership (an alliance of industrial and environmental groups), conversion to a low-carbon economy can create a whole new range of industries and relieve our dependence on foreign oil (a true cost).

Connecting the dots of climate change should not frighten us, but rather galvanize positive action that is good for both nature and people.

(Image: Children of herders play a game of “stones” in the Turag Valley. The circle marked by stones represents a œger, a traditional tent house used by nomadic herders. Credit: Lkhagva Ariuntsetseg.)

In late June, I posted about the new project to track Long-billed Curlew migrations from eastern Montana.

Well, the fall migration has started for these birds and they are moving out!

As of early this week, 4 of the 7 birds had taken off and left the Montana prairie for points south. Currently, one bird is in northeastern Colorado, another in very eastern New Mexico, and the other 2 are in northeastern Durango State, Mexico, very close to each other.

The initial data suggests that the flights south were very rapid, taking only a few days to reach these destinations. Of course, we are still waiting to see if they continue further south or make other movements. A map should be available soon, so keep checking in.

(Image: Long-billed curlew flying above Great Salt Lake, Utah. Source: Lynda Richardson.)