The CFO website mentions Cottonwood Canyon in Baca County: "A visit here will seldom leave a birder disappointed!" https://cobirds.org/CountyBirding/County/BySite.aspx?SiteID=36
Barb and I second that opinion. We spent two nights there this week and enjoyed the birds and wilderness very much, worth the six hour drive from Littleton. Here is a five minute account of our trip. No rarities, but if you are thinking of visiting Baca County, you may benefit from our experience.
My goal was to see and photograph birds, and to photograph the Milky Way for the first time, which requires a camera, a tripod, a clear-dark-moonless sky, and insomnia. The eastern prairie of Colorado has no big cities, so dark skies are possible.
Baca County, Colorado's most southeastern county next to Kansas and Oklahoma, has a website that recommends camping at Carrizo Canyon Picnic Area, so we headed there. At 3 PM we arrived and found no people and only three picnic tables for camping, and an outhouse. A sign declared the park was closed for camping due to the pandemic, the outhouse locked. What now? We hiked the Carrizo one-mile trial in 94-degree heat while thinking what to do next. The trail was blocked in two spots due to high water in the canyon, but we saw a couple of eastern phoebes as consolation.
The sign at Carrizo mentioned in fine print that "dispersed camping" was allowed on the Comanche National Grasslands nearby. But the grasslands are a patchwork. What is private ranch and what is public grasslands in that vast area? You would need a map; but we didn't have one, nor cell phone service or internet.
I had read that "primitive camping" was allowed at Cottonwood Canyon, about seven miles to the west, and that Cottonwood Canyon had many interesting birds, so we decided to camp there, come what may. We are not expert campers. We have enjoyed several camping trips to state park campgrounds that had a host, picnic tables, fire rings, water, and bathrooms. But primitive camping? No host, no picnic table, no fire ring, no water, and no bathroom.
We felt okay about the prospect of primitive camping except for the no-bathroom part, but we did bring a small shovel and toilet paper along just in case. I learned on this trip that you're supposed to dig a hole then poop in the hole. You don't do the opposite—poop then dig the hole. Women seem to instinctively understand this. Me—live and learn—I had to clean the shovel!
We drove down into remote Cottonwood Canyon, miles from nowhere, and saw a large sign on the side of the dirt road where the primitive camping was supposed to be: "Private Property." It was riddled with bullet holes. Now what to do? The sign did not read "No Camping" so we decided to look for a shady spot near Cottonwood Creek that was hidden from the road and take our chances in case the sign meant "no camping" after all. Always an adventure!
We set up our tent, then relaxed in our camp chairs above the creek. (No campfire due to a county ban.) Birds serenaded us one by one, as if on cue: canyon wren, yellow warbler, plumbeous vireo, ash-throated flycatcher, yellow-breasted chat, blue grosbeak, ladder-backed woodpecker, Chihuahuan ravens, Mississippi Kites, mourning doves, and others whose calls or songs I couldn't identify. Then came fireflies blinking in the reeds and all around us, then bats twittering next to the canyon walls, then frogs thrumming, then distant coyotes yipping, and a couple of hours after sunset, the Milky Way and endless stars in the dark sky.
It felt remarkable to be in such a remote area only about six hours from Denver. Our own wilderness kingdom--no people, litter (well a little, but we cleaned it up), traffic, lights, airplane noise, fracking equipment, wind farms, phone, internet, Trump news, covid, or covid news. And no mountain lions or bears and very few mosquitoes. Felt like paradise.
The night was cloudy, but at 11 pm the sky cleared a bit and I took a few Milky Way photos then turned in after our long and eventful day.
A chilly sunrise at 5:30 am, but at 5 am the dawn chorus of birds started and remained in force for over an hour. I think a dozen birds joined in, but I believe two competing yellow-breasted chats could create a dawn chorus all by themselves. A yellow-billed cuckoo landed on a branch above our tent and cuckoo'd for a while before we emerged for the day.
After breakfast we drove a 30-mile loop south by a few ranches and saw from the road red-headed woodpeckers, a golden eagle, more kites, a northern mockingbird, and various sparrows. After a picnic lunch we returned to camp to watch rain clouds come in. When the thunder and downpour let up, we enjoyed dinner then took a walk along the canyon and creek, hoping to hear an owl but settled for seeing a beautiful male summer tanager.
Tuesday morning another dawn chorus, this time with an owl and distant cow joining in. We had breakfast, took another walk, saw a couple of Bewick's wrens and an indigo bunting. It was time to pack up the tent and start the long drive home.
Barb said our 90-degree car smelled like a Waste Management garbage truck with compressed trash and dirty laundry. Oh well, pack it in, pack it out. Highlights on our way home were seeing a curve-billed thrasher in a field of cholla cactus and enjoying a chocolate sundae from the McDonald's drive thru in La Junta.
It was a great adventure. Thanks to Barb for her love, sharp eyes, and logistical management. Glad to return home to a shower and bed.
Here is our route from Carrizo Canyon Picnic Area to where we camped at Cottonwood Canyon, called by Google Maps "Kim Reorganized 88." Zoom out to see the whole area and state. Click on the 3D button to the right to see canyon walls. https://goo.gl/maps/E4KnWxanGAQ1HejA9
30 photos from our trip. Scroll down each photo a little for caption, and click right arrow for next photo: https://www.flickr.com/photos/twilberding/50041771501/in/album-72157714850044377/
Cheers,
Tom Wilberding
Littleton, Colorado