When birding the South Rim of the Grand Canyon in winter, you can expect to be met with snow, ice, wind, and crystal-clear views. Due to the extreme lack of humidity in the Southwest, particularly in winter, you may be amazed at how far you can see. The ability to see for miles unimpeded by humidity makes the grand vistas of the Grand Canyon that much more striking. Unfortunately, you're far less likely to be met by birds at this time of year. But, they're around.
Our first frigid February morning we pulled up to the visitor center after sunrise but well before opening time. I wanted to budget as much time as possible to locate a Canyon Wren, my selection for park ambassador. We parked in view of a crooked, leafless tree brimming with black balls of feathers. At least two dozen fluffed-up ravens adorned the tree. The cold "burbs", as we affectionately like to call fluffed-up birds, drew our attention to the thermometer. The car read 19 degrees F, and the weather app claimed -10 degrees F wind chill; no wonder the ravens opted to sleep in.
I was surprised to find the completely still visitor center courtyard filled with the tinkling melody of House Sparrows. Not a feather in sight, but bustling with birds, they had started their morning but were conducting their business entirely within the protection of the bushes.
Standing at Mather viewpoint, I was disappointed that despite being able to see miles in the clear conditions, there wasn't a single raptor in sight. I half expected hawks, eagles, and condors to be patroling the canyon. Instead, we admired the view, tried to stay upright in the wind, and gazed jealously down at Phantom Ranch, which would experience a high of 56 degrees Fahrenheit that day. I thought to myself, that's where all the birds have gone.
Spending the day hiking the rim and visiting each viewpoint only turned up some Common Ravens who had finally started their day. No songbirds, no raptors, only a blue streak into the canyon that had me guessing what kind of blue bird or Bluebird it could have been. Most heartbreaking of all, we hadn't even heard the Canyon Wren call that is so iconic to the Southwest; there was no evidence that they were around.
At the end of the day, I resolved that the next morning we would hike along the Bright Angel trail until we descended below the snowline to find our Canyon Wren. That's where it had to be, along with all the other birds. I figured if I could get down to warmer weather and a spot where we could scan the cliff faces, we could spot one. We estimated that the snowline ended around the 1.5-mile mark.

A view of the canyon shortly after sunrise taken from the Bright Angel Trail
We started down the Bright Angel trail as soon as the sun rose and trekked 1.5 miles down the snow-packed path with only the sound of distant woodpeckers to keep our hopes up. We had much more luck with mammals, including a little white-tailed deer, 3 joggers (on their way up!), and a helicopter. Approaching 1.5 miles, we realized that the snow ended at the 3-mile resthouse, not the 1.5-mile resthouse. We paused at a switchback to debate our options; we hadn't prepared for a 6+ mile hike, and every step down was a step we had to climb back out. There was little evidence of bird activity in the snowy, shady side canyon. My husband and I were still planning when we heard our first bird call. It was less of a call, though, and more like a hermit mumbling to himself; a quiet chattering noise. I said it sounded like two stones being rubbed together; he countered with two crickets being rubbed together. We trudged through 2 ft of snow around a stubby tree to where we could see the cliff face and laid eyes on the little busy bee scurrying on the vertical rock and probing cracks. We found our Canyon Wren!
He put on a show for us for about 15 minutes, all the while talking to himself as he repeatedly flipped upside down, tiny feet kicking wildly in the air as he tried to get deeper into crevices. He paid us no attention, until suddenly tucking his wings and diving over our heads deeper into the canyon. We gazed down the canyon until we heard his iconic canyon call, a cascade of notes beckoning us down. We were tempted to follow him but decided to head back up. On the way up, we again found that the birds got a late start to the day in these frigid temperatures. We saw another Canyon Wren, a beautiful Woodhouse's Scrub-jay watching hikers from a low treetop, and a banditry of Mountain Chickadees celebrated our arrival back at the rim.
It was not a large tally for our birding trip, but each bird was a treat and a pleasure to observe. While the Grand Canyon is worth visiting under any circumstances, the snow-covered views and the relative solitude during that season made our visit truly extraordinary.
A Canyon wren at Grand Canyon National Park Right: probing a crevice, head inverted
Center: probing a crevice, totally inver (on its back)
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