Drought is a perennial reality in Far West Texas. But beginning in 2023, it gripped the region in an especially harsh way. For two years, many places here saw barely a quarter of normal rainfall. By the end of 2024, the Trans-Pecos was in a state of exceptional drought unlike any other region in the U.S.
Then, finally, blessedly, the rains came. A robust monsoon began around July 4th – creeks ran, grasslands flourished. But extreme drought tests nature’s resilience. And birds are a particularly vivid example of how the creature world responds to drought, and to a landscape recovering from it.
Cecilia Riley is a veteran ornithologist and founder of the nonprofit Trans-Pecos Bird Conservation. She and her husband, Michael Gray, are close observers of birds in the Davis Mountains.
“Mike and I were going out doing our regular treks at the Nature Conservancy Preserve,” Riley said, “and it was just silent. You go to the woods – and it's just silent, because there was just nothing there to support their lifestyle.”
Even for a non-birder, there’s no mistaking the impacts of drought on avian life; as Riley notes, wild places typically alive with birdsong fall eerily silent. But there are also more rigorous metrics.
Each year, the National Audobon Society organizes Christmas Bird Counts across the country, in which volunteers assess the number of birds, and of bird species, within a given area. Riley leads counts in Balmorhea and the Davis Mountains. In the latter count, volunteers typically identify about 85 species. Not so last year.
“And last count here in the Davis Mountains, we had a reduction of at least 20 species,” Riley said, “20 species that were just absent. And of the species we did have, their numbers were half of what they typically are.”
West Texas is winter habitat for diverse birds – from raptors and woodpeckers to finches and sparrows. Their absence in recent years doesn’t mean they died. Most likely, Riley said, they sought what they needed elsewhere.
“Since they're such adventurers, they'll come and investigate a typical migration route,” Riley said. “But if there's nothing for them there, they'll just keep moving on until they find it, and they could end up in Mexico.”
But then there are full-time residents, and other birds that breed here. In drought, these birds likely postpone nesting, waiting for rain. Eventually, they’ll take their chances with raising young. But those young need protein – and if there’s no rain, and therefore no insects for their parents to hunt, chicks may die.
The recent drought killed trees; it reduced prairies to bare ground. But plant life has rebounded, and birds appear to have quickly clued in on the bounty. Riley said she’s already seeing “hints of a bird influx” at her Davis Mountains home.
“With evening grosbeak, Townsend’s solitaire, red-naped sapsucker, Lewis’s woodpecker, some Cassin’s finches already,” Riley said, “and of course, we had essentially none of those species the last two years out here.”
For our resident birds, winter moisture would be a boon to support their nesting in spring and summer. But Riley suspect that they’ll almost certainly have what they need.
The effects of the strong monsoon will come into focus with this year’s Christmas Bird Counts, Riley said. And in spring, local Breeding Bird Surveys, sponsored by the U.S. Geological Survey, will provide additional information.
Riley is always looking for volunteers for her Christmas counts – birders can visit the Audobon Society website to register. It will be an opportunity not only to support West Texas science, but to witness the winged evidence of this year’s welcome rainfall.
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