Where Art Thou, Little Dipper?

The night sky is a world unto itself with constellations, planets, stars and comets, to name a few. The Big Dipper, Ursa Major, is perhaps one of the first we learn to identify in the Northern Hemisphere. Nearby is Ursa Minor, the Little Dipper. Despite its lesser size, it contains the navigational powerhouse star, Polaris, also known as the North Star. Identifying constellations can be a tricky business but persistence and practice can provide many rewards.

My Little Dipper, Dippy for short, is not of the constellation variety but he is no less challenging to find. I am referring to the American Dipper, Cinclus mexicanus, and no surprise, he is a bird. Dippy may not be particularly special in his looks but he has a unique North American claim to fame. He is North America's only aquatic songbird, therefore, he is found frolicking in clear, rushing water. Our state has only one area where Dippy is primarily found and that is near Roughlock Falls in Spearfish Canyon.

My husband and I are spending time in our beloved Black Hills, thus it is time to look for Dippy. We bounced along on Roughlock Road, dodging gravel trucks, graders and orange cones. Our arrival in the parking lot was greeted by dark clouds and spitty rain. Not to be deterred, I slapped on a hat, clutched my trekking pole, tucked my binoculars into my jacket and began the hunt.

My plan was to hike the one-mile trail along the creek, eyes and ears open for Dippy. My long-suffering husband agreed to meet me at the end of the hike with the vehicle. There is no cell phone service in this part of the canyon so I told him that if I didn't return by our designated time, I was either dead or I convinced the birds to take me in as one of their own. My husband gave me a rather wan look, unable to respond to such nonsense. I assured him I would be fine.

The trail was drop dead gorgeous with the sound of rushing, gurgling water along the way. My trekking pole assisted me with the slippery spots and my binoculars helped me zoom in on any promising movements in the stream. I saw fat and sassy trout enjoying their cool waters. Ruby-crowned Kinglets chattered in the nearby pine trees. Mr. and Mrs. Mallard swam with purposeful intent on a pond fed by the creek. A sleek Red-Winged Blackbird perched on the edge of the stream, plucking seeds from a flowery plant. Chickadees dee-deed in the distance. Glossy black Grackles chuckled as they flew from tree to tree. A streaky, russet-colored Song Sparrow enjoyed a bath in the stream.

But, alas, no Dippy. I met my husband at the end of the trail and shook my head in defeat. Dippy-1 Me-0.

All was not lost, however. The trail was stunning. The weather was cool and bracing. And, just as we were ready to depart, I heard a distinctive call from the skies above. I knew immediately what I was hearing. There were two osprey circling us, perhaps fishing in the creek. At that moment, it was clear my birding expedition was a grand success.