Washington County A half-dozen folks got together last January to kick around ideas about how to attract tourists to their north central Kansas county during the “off” season.

Like many Kansas counties, Washington’s population is decreasing. In 1900 it was nearly 22,000. By 2000 it was 6,483.

Hidden under the camouflaged burlap of a photo blind, Charlie Kosier watches prairie chickens through a telephoto lens. Kosier observed the birds April 6 west of Washington.

The county has a heavily traveled east-west road, U.S Highway 36, running through it. The trick is figuring out how to get people to stop and spend.

Mark Uhlik, of all people, suggested they organize a bird-watching weekend and invite the public to see the variety of fowl that hang out in their county, especially the fabled and elusive prairie chicken.

“We were really surprised when Mark said ‘bird-watching’ since he has a hunting guide business,” said Dee Metz, manager of the Washington Motel. “He’s known for watching his birds down the barrel of a shotgun.”

So, Uhlik and Metz, with help from Karen Latta, who heads the Washington County Economic Development Office; Dan Thalmann, a reporter for the Washington County News and retirees Joyce and Jim McBeath organized The Washington County Birding Event.

It took place last weekend.

Up at 5 a.m.

If you missed it, rest easy. The second annual Washington County Birding Event is already being planned.

For the first one, nine out-of-towners from Emporia, Wichita, Silver Lake, Augusta, Lawrence, Lincoln, Neb., and one local signed up.

Two male prairie chickens face off on a lek, or mating ground. The birds gathered before dawn to do their ageless mating ritual to attract female chickens. The two birds at right are younger males.

Thalmann explained Saturday’s schedule to the group.

“We’ll meet in the lobby of the Washington Motel at 5 a.m. or a little before. There will be a continental breakfast and we leave for the blinds at 5:15.”

Uhlik, the hunter, reminded people there would be no rest room at the prairie chicken blinds.

“Not even a tree or tall grass,” he said, “So drink coffee at your own risk.”

At 4:45 Saturday morning, the motel’s office was filled with lively chatter and the smell of fresh coffee and sweet rolls. When it was time to leave, the birders and guides filed into the darkness, split into groups and headed to three prairie chicken blinds. The moon was just a sliver in the black sky.

One blind was just off busy U.S. Highway 36. It consisted of about 35 feet of camouflaged burlap attached by clothespins to a fence. Four of us climbed the bank and onto chilly metal folding chairs facing the burlap. Uhlik cut holes in the fabric facing the “lek”, the bird’s mating ground, for our camera lenses, spotting scopes and binoculars. Then a layer of burlap was draped over our heads.

Mating in the dark

Our camouflaged backs were no more than 35 or 40 feet from the cars and trucks that roared past. We couldn’t see the birds in the darkness but we could hear the soft mating calls of male prairie chickens. The bassoon-like sound is best described as the noise made when you blow softly across the top of a pop bottle.

A male takes to the air after sparring with another prairie chicken in a pasture west of Washington.

As the blue, pre-dawn light increased, the male chicken’s show of color, posturing, re-arranging feathers and jumping around came into full view. I counted about a dozen chickens 40 yards away. The mating ritual we were watching was ancient. Plains Indians patterned some of their colorful dances after the prairie chicken’s mating ritual.

The males had been coming to this “booming ground” or “lek” since November. After staking out their little piece of turf, they patted down the grasses with their feet so their dancing might attract more females.

When another male entered the arena the show began. They ran a little. They flew a little. They stomped, stamped, cackled, boomed, jumped in the air and flapped their wings.

The females, plain in their drab gray and white speckled coats, looked unimpressed while they checked out the obnoxious males.

‘A real treat’

Hens visit several leks before choosing the male that will fertilize their eggs. After mating, the hen is on her own to build a nest, protect and hatch her offspring and introduce them into the world.

Lawrence dentist Dave Brzoska and his wife Judy, a dental hygienist, were two of my “blind mates.” Both have traveled much of the world, Dave as a well-known collector of tiger beetles and Judy as an enthusiastic bird-watcher.

A female prairie chicken walks past two males as they circle one another on a pasture west of Washington. Females visit several leks or mating grounds before selecting a mating partner.

“I’ve been to Cheyenne Bottoms (near Great Bend) to watch birds but most of my birding experience has been in South America,” Judy said. “This was a real treat for Dave and I,” she said as we headed back to the pickup.

Monday morning, word from the breakfast crowd at “Mom and Pop’s Cafe” was that several strangers had been spotted around the county.

“The idea of people coming to Washington to look at birds is a little abstract to some but I think next year, if we can add a couple of live events and put more emphasis on the prairie chickens, more of our locals will be interested,” Thalmann said.

Senior editor Bill Snead can be reached at 832-7196.

Dee Metz, manager of the Washington Motel, stands behind the motel counter talking to birders who are about to depart for the prairie chicken blinds in Washington County. They are, left to right, Kevin Poague, Charlie Kosier, Jim McBeath, Metz, Peggy Robins and Dave Bazoska. It was shortly before 5 a.m.

A female prairie chicken lands on a lek or mating ground west of Washington shortly before sunrise. The female is nearly colorless compared to the brightly feathered male.

The sun came up shortly before 7 a.m. outside Washington as a car slipped down US Highway 36. The lek or mating ground for the prairie chicken is in this area.

The front office of the Washington Motel was filled before 5 a.m. with locals and visitors having coffee and brfeakfast before they headed out to prairie chicken blinds in Washington County last weekend.

One male takes to the air as he tries to intimadate another who is protecting himself on the ground. Soon both were airborne in a brief flurry of wings.

Two male prairie chickens circle one another on a booming ground west of Washington. The feathers that pop out of their heads during mating resemble horns.

Dan Thalmann, foreground, a committee member for the Washington County Birding Event and Tom Parker of Blue Rapids set up scopes at the Washington County State Lake to check out the bird population.

The morning sun is still low as Mark Uhlik pulls off US 36 across from the prarie chicken blind to pick up Dave Bazoska, his wife Judy, right and Charlie Kosier, center. The blind was west of Washington.

Two male prairie chickens have a short skirmish in the air as two on the ground are still going through their staring down phase. They are on a lek or mating ground west of Washington.