Lekking at Dawn: A Sage-Grouse Adventure in the Owyhee

MJ Winter - Community Organizer
3 days ago
5 min read

There’s something sacred about leaving a warm sleeping bag before dawn to sit quietly in the high desert and witness one of nature’s oldest courtship rituals. For years I’ve wanted to get out there and see this spectacle for myself, and hopefully do some good for the Owyhee I love in the process.

This spring, I contacted the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife’s “Adopt a Lek” program to volunteer to count sage-grouse for their research purposes. After studying videos and instruction manuals, I headed out to spend the night in a very remote and rough spot deep in the desert. Eying the cloud cover warily; I proceeded with caution because I didn't want to get stuck in one of the gumbo-producing mudfests that rain brings our desert around here. This time I was lucky… rainfall was spotty that night, and the morning would be mostly clear.

Rolling out long before sunrise, teeth chattering, I nuked up some coffee, struggled into several warm layers and filled a daypack with water, snacks and two forms of GPS. Excited to chase a hidden lek out in the wild folds of the Owyhee, I started my hike toward the lek in predawn darkness lugging a heavy spotting scope and binoculars.

A lek, for those unfamiliar, is where sage-grouse gather in early spring to display—males puffing their chests, fanning their tails, and producing their strange, rhythmic sound to attract females. It’s a display court, but also a battleground at times, where the males will catapult toward each other and actually fight to impress the ladies. Chest-bumping, wing-flapping and striking, beak-jabbing or pecking, charging and grappling with feet are all common behaviors. Luckily, the males don’t usually seriously injure each other in their quest to catch the attention of the most desirable sagehens. That’s a relief. Because when you see it, you can almost hear that music they played on Star Trek episode “Amok Time” when Spock battled that other dude on his home planet during their mating ritual called pon farr… uh oh, did I just date myself? Oops. Gen X represent!

OK back to the sage-grouse. I hiked past a glorious fogbank hanging over a nearby lake where I could hear sandhill cranes calling along with multiple other water birds waking up into the early light. After another mile of hiking over some rough ground, I found a spot secluded behind a bitterbrush and settled in, quiet and still, trying to become part of the landscape.

And then—almost as if it was my imagination—I began to hear them.

Bloonk. Whuump. Bloonk.

The sound echoed across the sagebrush and down the ravine. In the dim light I was able to make out at least a dozen males, their white chest feathers puffed like bellows, tails raised in arcs, air sacs inflating and deflating in a bizarre, captivating rhythm.

They strutted. They faced off. They danced as if the earth itself demanded it. They gave Spock a run for his money, haha! Once the light built up enough, I could finally see nearby females wandering through like cautious observers at a barn dance, occasionally pausing, assessing, and then moving on. The dynamic felt ancient, a deeply compelling secret available only to me as the sole observer in this special moment and place.

As the sky brightened up and the desert began to glow and sparkle with dew, I was struck by just how lucky I was to finally witness this timeless ritual that has played out on this land for thousands of years.

📉 The Reality in 2025

So just how bad is the picture for sage grouse? According to the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife’s 2025 Adopt-A-Lek Volunteer Field Report, this year’s picture is cautiously optimistic.

In total, 2,075 sage-grouse were counted across 295 dawn surveys.
121 leks were surveyed, and 62 of them had at least one displaying male present.
The highest male counts across all leks totaled 1,049—a notable increase from 809 in 2024 and 578 in 2023.
Encouragingly, 29% of active leks had over 21 males present, up from 24% last year and just 8% the year before.

Oregon volunteers even documented two possible new leks and saw returning activity at sites that had been dormant for years.

These are some good signs. But they're not the full story.

Roughly half the surveyed leks showed no activity at all, and weather this season—snow, mud, storms—prevented full coverage of some key habitat areas. There were also signs that birds may be shifting among nearby leks in response to habitat pressure.

So, while the dance continues promisingly for this year, the future is still on uncertain ground.

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When you’re out there, you can’t sit at a lek and not feel something stir deep inside. The whole landscape is a place of such beauty and ruggedness, and for me there’s no place I’d rather be than somewhere in the deep Owyhee. At this particular observation spot I enjoyed quietly spying on and counting birds until a trio of antelope came over the hill snorting at me, causing the sage-grouse to relocate across the ravine to resume their thumping and battling undisturbed.

🌿 Why This Matters

These birds are ancient, charismatic, and perfectly adapted to the sagebrush sea they call home. But their world is shrinking—due to habitat fragmentation, invasive weeds, development, and climate extremes.

The volunteers behind ODFW’s numbers—55 people who logged over 917 hours, many in difficult conditions—are a testament to what’s possible when we care enough to show up. Their observations feed directly into the population monitoring system that informs state and federal policy.

I’m glad I had an opportunity to help this year, because it’s not just about counting birds. In the bigger picture, it’s about protecting a way of life—for the land, for the wildlife, and for those of us who still believe in wildness for its own sake.

🧭 What You Can Do to Help

Consider becoming a volunteer with the Adopt-A-Lek Program
Support conservation efforts by becoming a member of Friends of the Owyhee, or the Oregon Wildlife Foundation
Advocate for habitat protections
Mention sage-grouse facts to your neighbors, your hiking group, your grandkids. Let them know these birds are an important part of the ecosystem, not just a weird critter with a weird dance. Help them see sage-grouse as every bit as important as the hawks, elk, antelope, and owls they already are aware of and love.
Photo Credit: MJ Winter

If the lek ever goes silent, we’ll have lost something we can never replace. Something our grandchildren should have a right to appreciate, steward and support in their lifetimes, like I had the opportunity to do this past spring. I hope I get a chance to do this again next year!

-MJ Winter, a Friend of the Owyhee