Death of a Songbird by Christine Goff Page B

periods of time; sometimes it occurs overnight.”
    Lark perked up. “You mean like what happened after the Mount Saint Helens eruption.”
    “Sure, that would be an example of a rapid occurrence.”
    Cecilia looked confused.
    “I read about it in Audubon ,” explained Lark. “During the volcanic eruption, the pyroclastic flow sterilized the land around a place called Spirit Lake. It created an area called the Pumice Plain. Ten years after the blast, Forest Service ecologists started observing strange combinations of birds showing up in the area—birds associated, with more desert-like conditions. Like what you’d find in the Great Basin, rather than somewhere like the Cascade Range.”
    Lark glanced at Harry. He was nodding in agreement.
    “Within five years,” she continued, “the Plain was luring homed larks, American pipits, rock wrens, sparrows, meadowlarks, et cetera. And closer to the lake, where owls and osprey used to hunt, they were spotting red-winged blackbirds and spotted sandpipers.”
    Andrew snorted. “That said, we haven’t had any drastic changes around here. Not since the Big Thompson flooded.”
    “Are you going to deny that it’s been getting drier and drier every year?” Harry asked.
    “No, but we’re in a drought period.”
    “What about average temperatures? Don’t you see them rising year after year?”
    “Maybe in minute increments,” conceded Andrew. “But, without a study, there’s no way to know for sure.”
    “But there was a study done,” Harry said. “It was published in the Journal of the Colorado Field Ornithologists . If I remember correctly, the author concluded that even a relatively small change in average temperature could impact bird distribution and affect ranges.”
    “Paraphrased nicely, but I’d have to read the article before—”
    Several sharp taps on the podium microphone interrupted their conversation.
    “—I could accept the theory,” finished Andrew in a loud whisper.
    “Try the July 2000 issue.”
    Paul Owens stepped up to the microphone, pulling Katherine with him. Dressed in matching khakis and ptarmigan-logoed T-shirts, they still managed to look mismatched. Next to Katherine, Paul looked tall. He was blond, boyishly handsome, and sparkled with energy and enthusiasm. Dark-haired and petite, Katherine’s aloof manner increased her stature. And she looked out of place in silk-screened cotton.
    “Hello, everyone,” Paul said. “May I have your attention for just a few minutes. I’d like to make some introductions, then I’ll let you go back to your conversations.” He cleared his throat and leaned into the microphone. “First, I’d like to thank you all for being here. This is the best turnout ever.”
    The crowd applauded. Owens bobbed his head like a water duck.
    “Second, I’d like to introduce you to my partner, Katherine Saunders.”
    There was another burst of applause, but this time Owens raised his hands for quiet.
    “Katherine is a remarkable lady. An outstanding birder, a founding member, and a large financial supporter of the Migration Alliance. Without Katherine, MA wouldn’t exist as we know it today.”
    “He could have trimmed that statement,” murmured Dorothy, slipping up beside Lark.
    “And ended with exist?” Lark asked.
    Dorothy nodded.
    Several others shushed them, as Katherine waved her hand side-to-side in the air. “Thank you, Paul. Everyone. It’s so nice to be here.”
    Owens waited for the clapping to die down, basking in his partner’s glory. “There are several other people I’d like to introduce, so if you could please hold your applause until the end…?” He consulted a stack of three-by-five cards he held in his hand, then looked up and smiled. “We’re quite fortunate to have with us Buzz Aldefer, a major in the United States Air Force. Where are you, Buzz?”
    A large man with graying sideburns and a buzz cut stepped out of the crowd and strode to the podium. Lark remembered seeing