In 2005, Becca and I were invited to participate in a celebration of Holi, a Hindu festival celebrated in a number of southeast Asian countries. Becca worked with a number of Indian software analysts and one of them held a little Holi celebration in his backyard on Vineyard Mountain. We arrived to a table laden with wonderful spicy curries, pakoras, samosas and other festival foods. A small pavilion was set up in the backyard to protect the guests from the rain that fell heavily that day. The festival has been described as a time when “participants hold a bonfire, throw colored perfumed powders at each other and celebrate wildly.” I cannot remember the bonfire but I do remember people throwing the colored powder and running about waving their arms in the rain. After we got home, I dumped my cloths in the washing machine, scrubbed the powder off in the shower, and went to bed. The next morning while starting to brush my teeth, I noticed that my hair was bright pink. Not to worry, another shower and multiple shampooing should work. No luck. My gray hair was still bright pink. I am now concerned because three events were on my calendar for the week. I was leaving for northern Nevada to meet with the leadership of the Nevada Chukar Foundation (an organization not known for its pink-headed members) and was stopping beforehand to assist some USFWS wildlife biologists (an agency not know for very many pink-headed male biologists) trap greater sage-grouse. After my return, I was also starting a new position with Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife (a state agency that likely did not have too many pink-headed male staff members). Becca called her hair stylist who promised quick results from strong chemicals so off I go for an hour of hard head washing with professional quality shampoos. No luck. My hair was still bright pink but now with some strange blond streaks.
I left Corvallis the next day, drove across Willamette Pass and through the beautiful Sprague River Basin until I nearly reached Lakeview where I turned southeast for a long drive across a vast high desert landscape to the Nevada border. My first stop was the Sheldon National Antelope Refuge. I was spending 3 days trapping greater sage-grouse on the Refuge to take blood samples and continue a banding study that began in the late 1980s. Wildlife research, the previous year, had found some alarming problems in greater sage-grouse populations in areas in Montana and Wyoming. A number of birds were testing positive (from blood samples) for markers that suggested they were exposed to West Nile virus and populations of greater sage- grouse seemed to be plummeting in parts of their range because of mortalities linked to this mosquito-borne pathogen. So the USFWS biologists were testing birds across their range to determine if they contained these markers. Historically the basin and range of Washington and Oregon contained vast numbers greater sage-grouse. This keystone sagebrush/steppe obligate was being considered for federal listing because their populations had fallen by 90% since the days when Meriwether Lewis described them as the “Cock of the Plains” during his journey through the Columbia Basin.
I met with Mike and other volunteers at one of the Sheldon bunkhouses. Mike is a USFWS biologist who has studied greater sage-grouse for 18 years and was an expert trapper of these magnificent creatures. Sage grouse are a lek-forming species. In other words, during breeding season (March-April) males gather at traditional breeding sites (leks) and compete for females by elaborate displays. The higher ranking or alpha males breed with the most females. Displays occur during a short 2-4 week period and occur mostly during the day, but occasionally you can hear strutting males during moonless nights. The strutting displays by individual males last about 2 seconds but are very complex. Paul Johnsgaard described the sequence: “the start of strutting is marked by a rapid wing-swish and vertical upward jerk of the head that lasts about .2 second. There is then a pause, as the esophageal pouch is inflated and two bare, breast-like areas of the frontal, olive-colored skin are partly and briefly exposed. Simultaneously with the wing-swish noise is a low-pitched growl, apparently produced by feather noise. After a slight pause there is a second wing-swish, accompanied by a second vertical head jerk and greater esophageal expansion, that produces a second brief but silent exposure of the bare skin patches. At this point the male utters a quick series of three low-pitched cooing or hooting notes. There is then a hollow plopping sound as the now fully expanded and orange-shaped air-sacs are deflated….and followed by a sharp whistle and second extremely rapid air sac inflation and deflation plop.” As the males display, the females are outside the circle appraising their performances. The displays at night are the best time to capture the birds because both sexes are aggregated in one area. Spotlights are used to transfix the birds until a pole net can be dropped over them. Many lek sites have been occupied by multiple generations of sage grouse and have been monitored by biologists for decades. Scientist are not all that clear on what constitutes a good lek site over a not-so-good site but generally they are knolls or exposed areas that are free from snow.
We left the bunkhouse at 9:00 pm and started our walk through the sage brush. We had divided into two teams of three with each team having a spot-lighter in the center between two netters. The spotlights are powered by backpack generators that emit a steady loud hum and thin clouds of gas exhaust. Mike with his spotlight has the ability to pick out the eye shine or head shapes of sage grouse without hesitation several hundred feet away. I am focused mostly on not tripping over sage brush or stepping into holes. It is still mostly winter in the high desert. The temperature hovers near 19 degrees and I have many layers of cloths and a bright headlamp. Snow falls intermittently but does not seem to detract from Mike’s amazing ability to find birds. When he spots a grouse he immediately picks up his pace keeping the strong spotlight on the bird as he hustles towards it. As he nears the bird he makes the light flutter rapidly on the grouse and motions one of the netters to approach. I stumble forward and drop the pole net quickly on the bird and then immediately leap forward to grasp it under the net scraping my knees. Lewis’s “Cock of the Plain” is a large and powerful bird with males exceeding 6 lbs and having a wing span of 3 feet or more. The bird in my net is a male in full breeding plumage with erect filoplumes (display feathers) arising from the back of his head, a deep black throat, pure white breast, and beautiful black underbelly. I reach under the net and grasp the back of the struggling grouse with both hands holding the wings against his sides and turn him over on his back in my lap. Sage grouse become very passive on their backs and are easily handled in that posture. I check his legs for any previous leg bands. Mike continues after another bird. I sit quietly with the grouse who occasionally emits a deep canine-like growl. It is good to be away from the noise of the generator. I gently speak in a low voice to reassure it or me and glance up at a clearing sky that is covered with vast numbers of stars. Mike returns and he draws blood from a wing vein and inserts a band on its right leg. We also examine its primary and secondary feathers to determine if it is a full adult or juvenile. I turn the bird over and carefully released it into a clump of nearby sage brush. The trapping continues until the sun begins to emerge in the eastern sky. We have two more nights to get as many blood samples as possible for the West Nile tests. On the last night, Mike steps into a kit fox hole and breaks his right leg.
Now back to the pink hair. I did not mention my hair color during the trapping or subsequent meeting with the Chukar Foundation. I thought, that unless asked, I would not volunteer that I had been throwing perfumed powders on people in a rain storm while celebrating a Hindu festival in Corvallis. Sometime later, I asked Mike if he remembered the trapping excursion and my pink hair. He said that some of the folks had winked and nodded but otherwise they thought it best not to mention the hair. The American West is known for its eccentricities and most folks deeply respect the privacy of others including those with pink hair. I will forever remember sitting in the high desert on a cold early spring day under a nighttime galaxy of stars cradling growling sage grouse forgetting pink hair and sore knees.
