Editor’s Note: After Sam Bland retired from his position as superintendent at Hammocks Beach State Park, he joined the staff of the North Carolina Coastal Federation. During his time as a coastal specialist in the 2010s, he would periodically write about his time in the field for Coastal Review. Now traveling the country, Bland drops a line every once in a while to share a new adventure with his readers, such as the following:

In northwestern Wyoming, just south of the town of Jackson, a 20-mile stretch of road makes its way through the mountains down to the town of Alpine.

It’s a gorgeous drive any time of year with towering mountain hills covered in pine, fir, cottonwood and aspen trees. Identified as the Snake River Canyon, Grand Canyon of the Snake or Alpine Canyon, the river slithers right beside the road.

The upper part of the river runs slow enough in the canyon that beavers dam off braids of the river, forming placid ponds and wetlands beneficial to all wildlife. Gradually, the grade of the river begins to drop and the velocity of the water picks up the pace.

During our travels out west into Wyoming, Idaho and Utah, my wife, Bright, and I have driven this road many times.

We look for the beavers and otters swimming in the ponds, the moose in the willows, elk in the meadows and mountain goats high on the steep cliffs. Much of the landscape on both sides of the road are public lands, part of the Bridger-Teton National Forest.

Every few miles, there are access areas for hiking, camping, fishing and picnicking. One access area sign caught our eye, but we would always drive past. The sign simply stated, “Lunch Counter” with the word “Kahuna” underneath it.

The use of the word “kahuna” on a national forest sign in Wyoming was quite intriguing. A Hawaiian word, kahuna is used to signify a professional expert, such as a doctor.

During my years of surfing the North Carolina coast, I would occasionally hear the word being called out as a big swell began to roll in. In late spring, fascinated by the sign, we drove down to the Lunch Counter to see what was cooking.

Arriving in the parking lot, we saw a man in a full wetsuit with a surfboard tucked under his arm disappear down a wooded trail towards the river. Wait, what? This looked so out of place in cowboy country. We dashed down the trail, and from an overlook we could see the Class III rapids of the Snake River.

The serene beaver pond waters of the upper river were now a raging whitewater serpent. In the mist of the aquatic chaos was a lone surfer riding the face of a large, standing wave. We now understood, the Lunch Counter and Kahuna referred to the rapids.

The Snake River Canyon was formed millions of years ago with tectonic plates butting heads, creating thrust-fold belts along with glacial gouging and erosion by the river itself.

At some point, geologic forces created a flat shelf with a large boulder lodged against it in the riverbed. Perhaps a massive flood rolled the boulder into just the right place. Prior to reaching the Kahuna and Lunch Counter rapids, the width of the river narrows with small granite walls on each side. It is here that the water shoots through like a firehose against the rocks creating the standing wave.

The wave is seasonal though, peaking in late spring and early summer due to melting snowpack. North of the Snake River Canyon, the flow is controlled by the Jackson Lake dam in Grand Teton National Park.

In early spring, the gates of the dam are cracked open to keep downstream reservoirs topped off for agricultural irrigation. Snowmelt from streams and creeks below the dam spills into the Snake River, causing the river to gush a high flow rate of 14,000 cubic feet per second.

Water flowing over the Lunch Counter at 7,000 to 13,000 cubic feet per second creates a wave tempting enough to lure a surfer into the maelstrom. Dam control, snowpack and daily temperatures dictate when and for how long this river surfbreak will last.

The flow can be variable. Thus, the wave may last for a month, a few days or not at all.

The Lunch Counter was first named in the 1960s by David Hansen, a local whitewater rafting guide. Out on his raft, with the undulating walls of waves looming ahead, he has been quoted as saying “if we are going to eat our lunch, it’s going to be right here.” The unique quote has become the identity of the Lunch Counter ever since.

It wasn’t until 1978 when a trio of brave whitewater rafting guides eyed the wave with envy, scrounged up a surfboard without an ocean in sight, and gave it a try. Surfing on the Snake was born. Like a siren, the wave continues to taunt, tempt and seduce surfers today.

Bright and I made our way down the worn gravel trail to a water-smoothed granite shelf along the river. Almost a dozen wetsuit-clad surfers were scattered about. Adorned with booties, gloves and a 5/4mm taped wetsuit, they were protected from the frigid 40- to 50-degree snowmelt.

One surfer was on the wave while another was drifting downstream after being bucked off the watery horse. Six surfers were sitting in a lineup on a rocky bench waiting for their turn on the curl as if kids patiently waiting for the music of an ice cream truck.

Watching the surfers, the first thing that hit me was that the power of the water is coming at you, not from behind like an ocean wave. What an adjustment for the mind and body for an ocean surfer.

Just to get to the wave was an endeavor in itself. First, you must jump off a rocky cliff with the surfboard underneath you, landing into a lower trough of water created by the uneven stream bottom. This trough, what the surfers called “the seam,” would then drift them into position below the standing wave.

Here, the current would pull them up and into the wave. Paddle, paddle, paddle in the whiteout of foamy madness before you are chewed up and spit out. Most of the surfers would quickly find the sweet spot at the base of the wave where they would lay on the board, adjusting their balance to keep the board forward on the wave. Then they would pop up, and if the surf gods are willing, ride a river wave.

Some surfers would just chill in the pocket of the wave, occasionally drifting up the face and back down. Off to the right of the wave, the pulsing waters would create a bit of a swell that allowed some surfers to drift to the right with a quick rip to the left, fanning the water up like a rooster tail.

Unlike ocean waves, some of these rides lasted for minutes. The more experienced riders would, at times, voluntarily bail on the wave, granting others a chance to catch the Snake. But more often than not, surfers were victims of a cold face-plant due to wandering concentration. Wipe out here and you are treated to another ride, rag-dolling down the rapids and tossed like a salad.

Here, the surfers are on high alert, keeping an eye out for hazards such as a tree branch hurling toward them like a water javelin. They also have to share the break with the hundreds of kayakers and rafting boats charging into the wave seeking their own thrill.

Whitewater kayakers in their short, stubby boats would back into the wave as well. Paddling to stay in the curl, they would dance on the wave, spinning circles much to the delight of the cheering surfers. A train of rafts might come along, aiming straight for wave.

Like a powerful bronco, the wave would try to throw them out of the boat under a shower of cold river rain.

We watched about a dozen surfers of various skill levels ride the standing wave. A few were still learning this break, but, for the most part, all the riders were solid.

One in particular, Amanda Studdard, originally of Portland, Oregon, was one with the wave.

Studdard’s movements on the wave were smooth and sure, taming the current surging under her board. She was calm and at peace on the wave while the chaos off the river surrounded her — a true soul surfer. At times, she would break away from the Zen of it all. Drifting higher and to her right on the wave, she would then make a slashing left turn gouging the wave with her stick. A wall of spray in her wake added to the watery mayhem.

A lover of river surfing, Studdard was on her lunchbreak, sneaking in a few rides. An appropriate thing to do while at the Lunch Counter. She has been hooked on river surfing ever since she dropped in on a wave at a human-made break in a waterpark in Bend, Oregon. Her occupation allows her flexibility to work remotely and drift down to the Lunch Counter each year — an idyllic life shared with her two dogs Loki and Laska along with her playful kitten, Violet. Her feel and connection with the wave were obvious, what she describes simply as “magical.”

Studdard was joined by her friend, Natalie Catania. After tasting the wave four years ago, she has returned each spring to get her fill. Catania, without hesitation, leaps off the bank, drifts the seam perfectly into the face of the wave and springs onto the deck of the board, making it look so easy. After learning to surf on river waves, she prefers them to ocean swells. Even her board is designed for river surfing.

She explained that with the evolution of river surfing, board shapers are now designing specifically for the river waves. An ocean board will do, but a board carved to meet the distinctive aspects of the river will provide better performance. Freshwater is less buoyant than saltwater, thus, a river board needs to be thicker to provide better lift. They are also wider and shorter, 4.5 to 6 feet in length. Different river waves might also require a uniquely shaped board, resulting in a surfer having a number of boards in their quiver.

Having ridden a number of other river waves, the Lunch Counter always coaxes Catania back to Wyoming. “It’s a raw experience,” she said. “Even though it is intense, you find a state of bliss.”

When I think of some of the famous surf breaks, places like Mavericks, Pe’ahi (Jaws), Banzai Pipeline, Teahupo’o, and Nazare come to mind. Now, I will need to add the Lunch Counter to the list.

River surfing is gaining popularity throughout the world with breaks in Germany, Austria, Norway, New Zealand and Canada. The Lunch Counter is thought to be one of, if not the, best natural river surf break in the United States.

Surfer Today has listed it as one of the best river surfing waves in the world. American Surf Magazine has it on the top of their list of best river surfing destinations in the U.S.

You would think with such a heady reputation that the surfers would be territorial. Quite the contrary. The vibe is peaceful, welcoming, encouraging and supportive. Compared to ocean lineups where I have seen punches thrown, this was a breath of fresh mountain air. Even the few youngsters who were cutting their teeth on this river wave were given the same respect and opportunity as the adults. And these grommets could shred.

While the melting of the snowpack diminishes and the gates of the reservoir dams are cranked down, the wave will subside as if a low tide. By mid-July, the wave will retreat into the riverbed, hibernating, waiting to roar again next spring.

As the wave-creating snow blankets the mountains this coming winter, the surfers will grow hungry — hungry with an appetite that can only be satisfied by a seasonal special found only at the Lunch Counter.

Some have described the call of a pinyon jay as laughter across the landscape, but the predicament of the noisy, gregarious jay is no joke, as it is one of the most rapidly disappearing birds in the West.

The pinyon jay has been identified as a species of greatest conservation need in Wyoming wildlife action plans across its range after seeing its population crater by 80% in the last half-century.

It was proposed for listing under the Endangered Species Act in 2022, and in August 2023 the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service completed a 90-day review of this petition and announced that a full 12-month review of the species’ status was warranted.

To help improve the bird’s chance of survival, two studies are underway in Wyoming.

“They’re just awesome birds and hopefully we do them right,” said Eric Atkinson, associate professor of biology at Northwest College in Powell, who is part of one of the studies. “Zach Wallace with Wyoming Game and Fish told me several months ago, ‘You know, this is one of those species that caught us all kind of flat-footed because we knew they were there, but nobody really showed a lot of strong concern about them. And when you look at the numbers, their precipitous decline, it’s about time that some of us look at it.’”

The Draper Natural History Museum at the Buffalo Bill Center of the West, along with research collaborators from the Bureau of Land Management, NWC, USFWS and the Museum of Wildlife and Fish Biology at the University of California-Davis began focusing on the birds in the Bighorn Basin this spring.

Meanwhile Wallace, a nongame biologist, and others in Game and Fish are conducting field research in several counties to learn more basic information on the ecology and management of pinyon jays to understand how the agency can better manage the species in Wyoming.

“Our main goal is to be able to provide timely information on the status and management needs of this species as the federal listing process proceeds,” Wallace said. “Most research available on pinyon jays is from the southwestern U.S., so it is very important for us to understand if and how that information applies in Wyoming. Regardless of whether the pinyon jay is listed, our management of this species into the future will benefit from the results of this research.”

‘You Hear Them Before You See Them’

About the size of an American robin, the pinyon jay travels in large, noisy flocks throughout pinyon-juniper and other woodlands in the western United States. This strong-flying jay gives a crowlike kaw to keep in touch with the group.

Flocks stick together year-round, breeding and foraging together in colonies that can range in size from a dozen to hundreds of individuals.

“You usually hear them before you see them, but don’t be misled; sometimes they can be amazingly quiet and you don’t even know that they’re present,” Atkinson said. “They’re kind of jokesters. One of the common names people use to apply to it is the blue crow. It does indeed look like a small blue crow. They act like it, they walk like it. Their faces are kind of crow-like.”

The bird is understudied and poorly known in most areas of its range, but data from the North American Breeding Bird Survey suggest that numbers have decreased survey-wide by 3.69% per year from 1967-2015, with an overall population loss of approximately 83.5%. Populations are predicted to be reduced by an additional 50% from 2016-2035.

Pinyon jay are found in the western United States mainly in Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, Nevada, Colorado, central and northwest Wyoming and southeast Montana. And while there have been studies in other states, none had been done in Wyoming until these began.

“We know nothing about them really in the state of Wyoming,” said Jason Riggio, a postdoctoral scholar in the Department of Wildlife, Fish and Conservation Biology at the University of California-Davis, who is part of the Draper study.

Are The Birds Breeding?

Wyoming Game and Fish, including Wallace and fellow nongame biologist Frank Stetler, who are based out of Lander, began studying the bird last year to try and determine its breeding status in the state.

Other goals of their study are to identify habitats selected during the breeding season specific to Wyoming, as well as important areas for habitat conservation. They also plan further monitoring to see if birds return to the same breeding sites.

“We have many questions about pinyon jays in Wyoming, but for a species that we know so little about, it makes sense to start with the basic ones first: distribution (i.e., where are they?), habitat (i.e., why are they there?) and status (i.e., how are they doing?),” Wallace said.

During the breeding season from May to July, the pinyon jay can be found in southern Park County, southern and eastern Natrona County, northern Washakie County, southern Hot Springs County, southern Fremont County and southern Sweetwater County.

Habitats available to the bird in Wyoming differ from the core of their distribution because the state is near the northeastern edge of the species’ breeding range.

Recent studies in Colorado have shown pinyon jay to nest in juniper trees 75% of the time. Because juniper removal is a common habitat treatment for other species including greater sage-grouse habitat improvement, Game and Fish is trying to determine if pinyon jays nest in juniper woodlands.

“The Pinyon Pine tree that the species is named for barely occurs in our state, but Pinyon Jays occur in many areas of Wyoming,” Wallace said. “We are focused on understanding where jays occur and breed in the state and what kinds of habitat they are using. We are getting at that with a combination of observational surveys and tracking with satellite GPS transmitters.”

They began their research in April 2023, visiting 14 survey areas in the different counties two to three times throughout the season. Jays were detected at three of the 14 sites. Birds were observed a second time at each of these three sites in subsequent visits, two in Fremont County and one in Sweetwater County.

“We confirmed breeding at one of the 14 sites with approximately 35 birds present,” Stetler writes as part of the Nongame Section of the Annual Completion Report. “We confirmed breeding by observations of begging fledglings and recorded piping rattle calls, but were not able to determine the location of the colony site.”

The evidence of breeding was detected on June 11, 2023, in Fremont County. While no nests were located, the distance from closest known colony sites, presence of fledglings and observed behavior confirmed reproduction.

“We were pleased that our work last year documented the first record of breeding for pinyon jay in Wyoming,” Wallace said. “We had assumed they bred in the state, but it had never officially been documented.”

Coexisting With Greater Sage-Grouse

The Draper Museum of Natural History and its research collaborators began its study in the Bighorn Basin during the spring after being awarded $150,000 in funding earlier this year from the BLM.

Atkinson and Riggio are Co-Principal Investigators, along with Draper Natural History Museum Curator Corey Anco, wildlife biologist Destin Harrell of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and wildlife biologist Abel Guevara with the BLM Cody Field Office.

The study proposes to characterize habitat use by pinyon jays across limber pine-juniper stands and compare pinyon jay movement with greater sage-grouse foraging and breeding areas.

“With the new modern GPS transmitters and data loggers, we can accurately determine what components of the available habitat are most important to the species and then we can do our best to try to provide for pinyon jay habitat needs while at the same time finding areas where conifer encroachment into sage-grouse habitat is negatively affecting sage-grouse,” Harrell said. “It’s a dynamic balance of not competing habitat types, but two habitat types existing together with some common ground. What we do with this common ground, is a question we are looking to gain more awareness.” 

BLM lands play a central role in the pinyon jay’s habitat in northwestern Wyoming. At the start of the project, Guevara said that “successful pinyon jay conservation efforts rely on the thoughtful integration of public and private land needs.”

“This project is important to find the right balance of vegetation treatments that would benefit both greater sage-grouse and pinyon jays,” he added recently. “Once areas of pinyon jay habitat are delineated, it will help us determine if a future project will be beneficial for pinyon jays or sage-grouse or both.”

The group is studying at a variety of sites around the western Bighorn Basin where the limber pine woodlands intersect with grasslands including near Meeteetse, the North Fork and South Fork of the Shoshone River outside Cody, near Clark and in the Oregon Basin.

So far, the group has had good success capturing the birds. As of early July they’d captured 64 and attached 19 GPS loggers and seven satellite transmitters.

“Those movement tags are critical to this study because right now, we don’t know where these birds are roosting, where they nest, where they forage and how far they traveled between those sites,” Anco said. “And we need that information because we can’t address how large of an area these birds need if we don’t know how far they’re traveling between areas.”

The birds are weighed and measured to determine if there’s a morphological difference between pinyon jays at the northern part of the range where they’re using limber pine juniper habitats versus the pinyon pine habitats. They’re also tested for different diseases and parasites such as avian malaria and West Nile virus.

“So every bird that we have in hand we’re just trying to get as much information as we can,” Riggio said. “Is there a disease issue in the population that’s causing decline? Are they genetically and morphologically distinct in this northern part of the range where they have a really unique habitat versus the southern part of the range? And then also can we get some movement data to see how and where they’re using the landscape around here?”

Keep An Eye Out

Citizen scientists are encouraged to participate in this project by monitoring backyard bird feeders and documenting observations of pinyon jays in the wild. Datasheets are available to track observations by emailing DNHMSampling@centerofthewest.org.

“The partnership with landowners who provide the trapping locations is amazing to see,” Harrell said. “People love their birds and provide seed for the birds they enjoy watching and have around. It is a wonderful setting to give back to the pinyon jay for all the joy they bring.” 

Both the Draper group and Game and Fish are sharing information with the Pinyon Jay Working Group, which was formed in 2017 with a goal of bringing together pinyon jay experts to discuss conservation needs of the species. The large, diverse partnership plans to develop a range-wide conservation strategy for the species.

“We are already in discussions with Scott Somershoe, who is a biologist with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and chair of the group,” Anco said. “He’s tasked with gathering and compiling all of the data for this species status assessment. So we’re working with Scott to provide as much useful information for that as possible.”

As their study progresses, Game and Fish biologists are continuing to do landscape-level surveys to understand exactly where pinyon jays occur in Wyoming and locate more breeding colonies. It was also a pilot year for marking birds with GPS transmitters, which will allow them to better understand the species’ habitat requirements, space use and seasonal movements.

“This year we documented breeding in another location in central Wyoming and tagged four birds with transmitters,” Wallace said. “We are currently doing on-the-ground surveys in the areas with tagged birds to understand how they are using habitat.”

Meanwhile, Draper study will extend to the eastern side of the Bighorn Basin in the upcoming year. They also hope to document breeding and roosting areas. Anco said ideally this will become a longitudinal study.

“We are not putting a cap on it,” he said. “I would like to see this study persist as long as I’m the curator at the Draper Natural History Museum.”