One fateful afternoon at the bottom of a canyon, as I sat nursing a torn meniscus and a bad attitude, a plump gray bird puttered past me and alighted on a stone several feet away. Its body pumped up and down with vigor, as if it were throwing its own creekside dance party, or telling me to cheer up. I watched, amused, wondering at the species. Before I could note distinguishing features, the bird disappeared. I scanned the rocks, confused. After several long moments the bird erupted out of the water, landing on its stone while droplets rolled off its tightly woven feathers, a look of nonchalance twinkling in its chocolate-brown eye. I blinked. A diving songbird? I thought I knew water birds: ducks, ospreys, bald eagles, kingfishers. But here was a robin-sized bird using river stones as diving boards, doing who knows what in currents too strong for me to cross. I was humbled. I pulled my chin up, saluted my new friend, and took a step towards camp, grinning into my day. …

This Field Note was written by Zoey Greenberg. Would you be interested in writing one? Contact Allison De Jong, Field Notes editor, at adejong [at] montananaturalist [dot] org or 406.327.0405. Please visit the Field Notes website at the Montana Natural History Center for more information.