As we approached Mormon Row, the sun crept above the mountains. From the parking lot, we stood awestruck at the picturesque landscape. Another start of a brand new day from another chilly and cold night prompted a few eager Western Meadowlarks to whistle their sweet broken computer noises. Soon, Brewer’s Blackbirds flocked over the Mormon barns across the valley. They sang their squeaky Rusty Blackbird-like songs and merrily chipped at the advent of a new day. The massive mountains behind received the first rays of sunshine followed by the highest trees and the most eager birds. Soon, I saw my first Mountain Bluebird of the day basking in the sun from the tallest barn. Photographers lined up in front of John Moulton Homestead, while I scanned the opposite direction’s sagebrush in hopes of Greater Sage-Grouse or Sagebrush Sparrow. In the distance, I noticed a silhouette of an LBJ. It stood atop a sagebrush in the far distance. The bird sang a single verse of Western Meadowlark, yet with a bit of a more consistent, reminiscent of a slightly repaired computer. Suddenly, it hit me. I was hearing and looking at a Sagebrush Sparrow. The moment I realized this and reached for my camera to attempt a photograph, the bird chirped once and disappeared forever into the great expanse of sagebrush. Although I had an awfully brief moment with a terribly distant bird, I still had a diagnostic enough moment to identify a seldom-seen Sagebrush Sparrow! I never heard it again, but the sweet whistles of Western Meadowlarks made up for it. 

A few birds roosted in and around the homestead overnight, like Western Meadowlarks and American Robins. However, most birds seemed to appear in flocks and increase, then fluctuate in numbers throughout my time there. Brewer’s Blackbirds arrived first; starting with a group of six, then multiplying until they were 30+ strong. Tree Swallows followed soon after; first one, then two, then four, and the next thing I knew, eight Tree Swallows swooped and quivered above the grasslands. A family group of Cliff Swallows soon joined them, fluttering in a similar manner. A few Barn Swallows joined the dozens of swallows already present for the tasty daily bug breakfast as the insects swarmed over the meadows. In addition to the one Mountain Bluebird from earlier, two adolescents appeared on a barn. They posed so perfectly that I had to photograph them with the namesake mountains behind them. I spent far too long enjoying the sweet, yet melancholy notes of the Mountain Bluebirds that I hardly had time to scan for other birds. Still, I could not help but notice the sudden influx of Cliff Swallows over the far barn. They flocked and swarmed like the insects they chased, enjoying the first warmth of light. From a tree in front of me, a little chip sounded plus a slightly different chip call. A Yellow Warbler appeared in front of me, and an Orange-crowned Warbler hopped through the brush. Noisy magpies called from the barns’ rooftops, as the first Violet-green Swallows finally arrived for the day. I can’t help but notice that the swallows arriving at each time of day are highly correlated to when each swallow arrives from the south. Tree Swallows, as consistently the pioneers of each season arriving when the snow is full in March grew active even before dawn broke. Barn Swallows arrived shortly after them, and the bulk of the Cliff Swallows didn’t show up until Violet-green Swallows sat on their barn. Winter for us is like a night for these birds; they survive each cold and bleak night up in the mountains just as we cozy ourselves around a fireplace.