Nebraska species the focus of multi-state study to bolster its prairie population

After winding a sandy road under the dark sky, biologist Bryan O’Connor spots a dusty Nebraska Game and Parks Commission truck hugging the side of a road in the middle of Rock County. It’s about 6 a.m. on the eastern edge of the Sandhills between Rose and Bassett, Nebraska, where long prairie grass grows and cell service is spotty.

He pulls his Game and Parks-issued truck right behind the other, where Nikki Klosterman already has a head start – throwing on a heated vest, tucking tools into her overalls, strapping a headlamp to her forehead and tossing a few worn-out lawn chairs on the ground.

It’s about 40 degrees, but with this Nebraska wind and spitting rain, it feels more like 25. The sky is still painted black – sunrise is about an hour away – with thick clouds hanging just above their heads. As O’Connor and Klosterman flip on their headlamps, they can finally see narrow beams of light hit the soggy road and the mist collecting on all the trapping tools.

The biologists make it over a four-wire barbed fenceline that protects a prairie field. Klosterman maneuvers a tuck-and-roll under the fence. O’Connor pushes down the bottom barbed lines with his boot and steps under the top one, and after one brief breath, is through the fence. They both trudge their way through the meadow, attempting to dodge the land’s sudden dips and dark brown cow pies.

This private meadow is a sanctuary for big beef cattle, varying vegetation and soft grasses. It’s the perfect stage for male greater prairie chickens to woo their female counterparts. Their booming mating displays draw visitors from around the world – including the late Jane Goodall – to the grasslands of Nebraska. And biologists like O’Connor and Klosterman hope their research into the birds can help support the species at a time when it continues to lose its fragile habitat in Nebraska and neighboring Kansas.

After about 100 yards, they make it to the lek, a flat area in the meadow with low-lying grass that prairie chickens seek out for their mating rituals. It’s here where Klosterman and her research team have set up traps to snatch the female prairie chickens.

The large cages have been sitting in this meadow for about a week and a half now – almost too long, Klosterman said.

“It’s pretty much the time limit on how long we like to have traps out,” she said. “You take the traps down and give them time – you give them a week or so, and you can put them back up, and they’ll be back to it. They just need a break from them, so they have time to forget where they were.”

The prairie chickens, albeit not the smartest thinkers out on this prairie, might be starting to learn how the traps are set up – in a giant star-like pattern with the cages tucked into the pattern’s points.

“See, the idea for the traps is the chickens hit this chicken wire lead, and they can’t really tell what it is, so they just kind of keep running into it and moving down the lead as they try to get around it. And then it leads them right into this little chicken wire funnel,” Klosterman describes.

The two split off and open the trap doors, hoping a few female prairie chickens will soon shimmy into these cages as dawn creeps up the prairie.

Prairie chickens a pride of Nebraska

These trappings and observations are part of the largest-ever study on greater prairie chickens – spanning across seven counties throughout Nebraska and Kansas. Researchers are specifically monitoring birds at sites in Cedar, Hayes and Rock counties in Nebraska and Chase, Butler, Graham and Morris counties in Kansas.

The U.S. Department of Agriculture Farm Services Agency is providing the largest chunk of money, $3.2 million, for the multi-state study, but the U.S. Geological Survey, the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission and the Kansas Department of Wildfire and Parks are providing smaller amounts of financial backing.

The Nebraska Game and Parks Commission, Kansas Department of Wildlife and Parks, the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Kansas State University are leading the research efforts. Twenty-five technicians and graduate students are working on the study sites in Nebraska and Kansas, in addition to assistance provided by the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission and the Kansas Department of Wildfire and Parks.

They’re in the second year of their three-year study. Last year alone, the team monitored 96 prairie chicken nests and 29 broods, and completed more than 4,500 vegetation surveys.

The researchers want to see how the Conservation Reserve Program, or CRP – a voluntary federal program that rewards property owners for preserving sensitive land – is shaping the species’ habitat, affecting their breeding and nesting, and what policy changes could strengthen their long-term population.

Landowners in Nebraska account for some of the largest enrollment in the CRP in the U.S. The program creates a protective umbrella for species like the greater prairie chicken, which is losing its prairie and leks to land development, agriculture use and eastern red cedar encroachment.

Prairie chickens used to run throughout the Midwest’s prairies, but as land turned into towns and meadows turned into cropland, the birds have been pushed into the heart of the U.S. Tucked into Nebraska and Kansas remains one of the largest and most intact grassland prairies in the world – a shrinking fortress for what’s left of the prairie chicken population. Years ago, researchers with the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission set out to learn how many of those chickens still call the Cornhusker State home. The ballpark estimate was around 300,000, but it’s hard to know if that estimate is correct.

The prairie chickens’ exclusive existence in Nebraska and Kansas lures conservationists and wildlife fans every spring, when the animals participate in their unique mating rituals. The prairie chicken mating season is often overlooked since it occurs near the same time that hundreds of thousands of sandhill cranes swoop in on the Platte River, pulling in tourists – and a lot of tourism money – to central Nebraska.

But the chickens provide a starkly different show. Their mating rituals are humorous and wild spectacles that involve a group of male prairie chickens dancing, stomping and “booming” for females. As they get excited, the males inflate their bright orange sacs on their necks, creating a low and loud noise. The booming can be heard several miles away on a still Nebraska day.

Klosterman has been out in this field for a few weeks now observing the animals in the early mornings, and she gets a kick out of watching the males attempt to dazzle the female birds. They can suddenly hit full sprints out of excitement. If needed, they can fly for miles. And they’re persistent during mating.

“I have seen a prairie chicken fight off a red-tailed hawk before on a lek,” Klosterman said. “They do not want to back down during breeding season.”

Klosterman pops up a tattered camouflage-colored blind. She said the tent-like structure blew away in a strong gust and got into a fight with a barbed-wire fence. The blind apparently survived, but from the looks of it, the fence probably won. In a matter of seconds she and O’Connor get the blind set up with three small lawn chairs popped underneath the tent’s roof. It shelters the researchers from the sharp wind and cold mist on this early-April morning.

Once inside, they unzip a few squares of the blind and as they peer out, the dark night just starting to give way to the blue dawn morning. The droopy, full clouds dip a little lower. It’s so early the songbirds are still tucked into their nests, and with the closest highway traffic miles away and no nearby rustling trees, all that’s heard is the sound of wind swirling over the grass.

But as the clocks creep closer to seven, a faint low sound starts to drift across the meadow.

“Do you hear that?” O’Connor whispers. “They’re here.”

An important indicator species

Prairie chickens are dependent on cattle that graze fields and keep a pasture’s grass short and tidy. Sure, the birds have to swerve between the cows’ droppings, but they wouldn’t survive well in taller grasses that aren’t roamed by cattle herds, as TJ Walker explained at the Nebraska Game and Parks Headquarters in Lincoln. He’s the assistant division administrator for the commission’s Wildlife Division and is helping oversee the massive prairie chicken study.

“Beef production is a very important part of our economy and the livelihood of landowners,” Walker said. “Prairie chickens evolved with grazing animals – bison among them. Prairie chickens need livestock out there, keeping grasslands in a mixed stage of habitats.”

Walker, who’s from the southwestern Nebraska city of McCook, has spent a lot of time around the species. He’s been waiting for the opportunity to get to know more about the iconic birds. The Game and Parks manager said observing the chickens is a time-honored tradition and one that speaks to the wildlife beauty that’s found among Nebraska’s thick grasslands.

Not only are they an incredible animal to observe, he said, they’re an indicator species – a type of animal whose existence can tell you about the landscape on which they live. And researchers are hoping their landscape isn’t becoming even more limited.

“Losing prairie chickens may not necessarily harm us, but having prairie chickens there is a good sign that things are healthy. Grasslands are healthy. A healthy prairie chicken population out there is probably a pretty good sign that overall, our grasslands are in good health, and things are going well on the ranch,” Walker said.

A similar species, the lesser prairie chicken, has been facing similar threats of habitat loss, and after years of gaining but then losing protections, its numbers are dwindling. People trying to protect the lesser prairie chicken have said losing the distinct bird will be like losing a token of the prairie’s identity – similar to the loss of bison and wolves.

The greater prairie chicken flocks in Nebraska and Kansas can hold a wealth of information that turn the tides on their futures. And much of the findings could be drilled down by the immense amount of data these Nebraska and Kansas researchers are collecting through thin necklaces laced around the prairie chickens’ necks. When the birds are first captured, researchers take a blood sample and monitor the animals for any injuries or issues. Each animal is also banded with certain color codes to help researchers track their movements. And then they’re released.

“With today’s technology, these are essentially GIS, GPS-type transmitters that we’ll have pretty much pinpoint locations on where these birds are at certain times of the day. We’ll be able to do a lot of fancy computer work to this stuff to really get an idea of where these birds are hanging out, what type of habitats they’re using, what type of habitats they’re avoiding, where they have better nest success and where they have worse nest success.”

Since researchers are scattered across the birds’ habitat in Nebraska and Kansas, they’ll be looking at where the birds are traveling, what’s helpful to their population and where they’re ending up dead.

They’ll also be looking at the prairie chickens’ diet, their guts’ microbiomes and genetics. There’s a flock near Fort Riley, Kansas, that’s become isolated from other birds, and researchers are watching to see if that group’s population will dwindle or change as their circle closes in.

Much of the information is coming from female prairie chickens, who tend to be the more active birds.

“The hens are arguably the most important thing here, because we’re really wanting to see not only habitat use, but we’re wanting to see where they’re nesting, how successful their nests are, where they are, and what type of habitats their broods are using,” Walker said. “Because ultimately, if they’re not being produced, if they’re not being successfully raised to adult status, to where they can reproduce – that’s really the most important component of this, is figuring out what works best for the hens and the broods.”

Banded birds and little lunges

“The birds are over there! Here they are,” Klosterman whispers from her seat in the blind, binoculars pinned to her eyes. “They’re walking on slowly but surely. They kind of really roosted down, so I don’t know how much they’ll move.”

Klosterman and O’Connor have learned the stark differences between the two sexes of prairie chickens. Just from her observations over the past few weeks, Klosterman said she’s noticed the males will typically stick to patterns. They like to mate at or near the same leks. They’ll only venture out of their normal zones if they’re struggling to find female prairie chickens. O’Connor said the females can tell a larger picture about what’s affecting the entire species.

“If we put a collar on a male, all we’re learning about is what that male does for the year,” O’Connor whispers in the blind. “After lekking season, they’re just out, not really doing anything. They’re just surviving. That’s all they’re doing. Whereas, the females go out there and go into nesting, and after that, they go into brood rearing, and then it’s not until winter or late fall before they actually break up and go on their own. Whereas the males, they’re on their own the entire time. We get more data on the females about the whole life cycle of the prairie chickens.”

The descriptions fit perfectly of the 16 birds that eventually wander through this lek in Rock County. The males outnumber the lone female 15 to one. The birds’ booming grows louder as they collect around the female. She looks on at the surroundings, waiting for the right one to impress her. The males shake their feathers in a wiggling motion, twirl – and in some instances, hit full sprints through the short meadow. Seeming unaroused so far, the female sits and waits.

It’s about to hit the heart of mating season, O’Connor says. Most males should be out, no matter the weather – “just nature taking its course.” Almost every morning the prairie chickens will be found here, usually for about two hours. Just before sunrise until around 9 a.m.

But the cold, rainy weather seems to be keeping their motions a bit more subdued than normal, according to Klosterman. But as mating season lingers, the birds will get more aggressive.

“Usually, they’ll lunge at each other a little bit,” Klosterman hushes from the blind. “In some really rough fights, you’ll see one of them will get the other with its feet and just start flapping around and trying to drag the chicken out of the spot that it wants to be in. There’s a lot of bluffing and a lot of little lunges.”

Klosterman spends the morning peering through her binoculars and then scribbling down notes on a large notepad that asks her about the weather and the birds’ interactions. The researchers have found that the stronger males tend to display in the center of the leks with the younger, less-confident lads sitting on the sidelines.

The two keep their eyes fixed on the sole female chicken as she gets near the gate of a trap, but it seems like one of the male chickens has forced her on the wrong side of the gate’s opening.

Some research days are better than others, Klosterman says. Her team has caught six female chickens at this site. One morning, they were able to catch three in a row. The field researchers act quickly if a chicken is caught. They’ll band the birds and take a blood sample if it’s a new one. Klosterman says it’s not an enjoyable experience on the bird’s part, but the researchers act swiftly to minimize the stress of the banding and blood sample.

The sole female bird is now inching toward the opening of a gate, and the researchers whisper words of encouragement for the prairie chicken to duck in. The raindrops get heavier and louder on the top of the blind as the morning sun slowly rises behind the thick, unmoving clouds. An early morning fog is now lurking near the meadow, threatening to roll in and kill the early morning party.

After only subtle movement over the course of the morning, Klosterman clocks the female bird standing on top of one of the cages, locking eyes with the researchers.

“Well, if that ain’t the middle finger,” O’Connor laughs. After a rainy and chilly two hours in the blind, the researchers begin to realize the female isn’t only making the males sweat it out – they’ll be waiting too.

The sudden fog rushes across the meadow now, briefly shielding the researchers’ views of the traps. The males’ booming is still roaring but once the fog lifts, the prairie hushes back into silence and the female is gone.

The lek is flushed, O’Connor explains. The sudden stir of fog sent the birds fleeing back into the tall nearby grasses and onto a field behind the blind.

How the birds’ data could affect policy

The long mornings out in the fields and subsequent hours to follow with data analysis could benefit some of the Nebraska landowners who open up their fields to the CRP. Landowners don’t turn a profit with the current federal incentives, but the researchers hope it can provide better habitat management insight and possibly turn the findings into incentives for landowners to help prairie chickens, while also helping their livestock production.

“We can, maybe, make recommendations on what type of management we should be utilizing more than not in certain areas,” O’Connor said. “If they’re not using them, what habitats and similar areas are they using, and what’s happening there? Maybe we can change how we’re designing and managing CRP to make it better for chickens as well.”

Landowners enrolled in CRP are required to maintain the land, depending on what type of CRP they are enrolled in. Programs typically aim to keep the land as diverse as possible. Some management strategies include burning, discing, chemical application, haying and grazing. Through this study, researchers hope to know what best serves the prairie chickens in certain areas, and hopefully can turn that research into recommendations that will keep the chickens coming back.

“And the fact that seeing leks return year after year is always really interesting to me,” O’Connor said. “How, especially in areas where we don’t have necessarily as much habitat as we do here in the Sandhills, they really stick to them hard. Unless you see some kind of major change in the landscape or something like that, they’ll just return year after year, and I think that’s always really cool to see.”

From the researchers Klosterman has spoken to, the landowners involved in the study are interested in seeing the iconic birds return as well. Despite the noisy neighbors booming, fighting and dancing just a short distance from their homes, they’ve taken a real interest in what the researchers are finding and what they could do to make a better home for them.

“I think one of my favorite things about this project so far is just working with so many landowners,” Klosterman said. “They’ve all been super welcoming and really interested in the birds and the work. It’s been amazing to work with them and get to talk to them about the birds they have on their property and what they’re doing.”

Klosterman grew up in Lincoln and is now enjoying a piece of Nebraska that O’Connor calls home. He lives on a farm outside of Wolbach. It took him about an hour and a half to make it to the blind this morning. Klosterman is bunking with other researchers at a nearby bunkhouse that’s often used by University of Nebraska researchers who make it out this way.

“Just to see all the wildlife out here, for me, has been really awesome. I’ve just really loved being able to be in this part of Nebraska. You don't get to see this part of Nebraska very much from Lincoln. People don’t always know how beautiful the Sandhills are. They just think ‘sandy hills’ – and they’re not wrong – but it’s so much more than that.”

It’s a much smaller home than what the wild prairie chickens used to experience, but the researchers hope they can protect what’s left for the birds. Improving their habitats – one notepage and GPS necklace at a time – could mean more generations of Nebraskans and Kansas can see the sites and hear the sounds these chickens bring each spring.