Katy Penland
Well-known member
An Open Letter
to the owner and management of Sandia Crest House
Albuquerque, New Mexico
February 11, 2005
"Refrigerator Birding"
Good name for a mid-winter birding adventure to the summit of Sandia Peak in the Sandia Mountains east of Albuquerque, New Mexico. At elevation 10,678 feet, this is where three species of Rosy-Finches over-winter (Black Rosy-Finch [Leucosticte atrata], Brown-capped Rosy-Finch [Leucosticte australis] and Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch [Leucosticte tephrocotis]). Although the birds have been recorded regularly since the 1950s, it wasn't until 1999 when Ken and Mary Lou Schneider spearheaded a cooperative effort to make the birds more accessible to the public by placing feeders on and around the Crest House, which contains a gift shop and a small café. Three hundred feet lower and a few miles down the road from the Crest House is a popular local ski area.
Because I live in northeast Arizona, I hooked up with a birding group from Tucson, AZ, on the second day of their trip when they got to Albuquerque, and together we were going to see first the Rosy-Finches in the Sandias, and the next day head south to Socorro and the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge. After that, the Tucson group and I would part company to head to our respective home cities. One of the couples with the Tucson folks was from Maryland, so they were really excited about this trip.
On January 30, we awoke to snow on the ground in Albuquerque and still lightly snowing as we headed up the Sandia Crest Highway. While the snow plow was already at work on the road to the ski area, it wasn't plowing the rest of the road to the summit. I have a 4WD Chevy Tahoe S-10 and had no problem at all on the unplowed road, and by the tracks in the snow, there had been several vehicles up before we were. The two 2WD Tucson vans, however, started to lose traction. A friendly sheriff's deputy in a 4WD rig directed the van drivers to go back and park in the ski area lot while he and I each took a carload up to the Crest House. We were there before the Crest House opened at 9:30, so 9 of our group of 12 waited outside and I returned to the ski area to get the two van drivers and bring them to the top.
Probably close to 10" of snow had fallen, but the upper parking lot at the Crest House was already cleared by its snow plow, and another guy was running a snow blower to clear the walkways. It was now around 10:30 a.m., and I was surprised to see people still standing outside in the snow and wind when I pulled up with the last of our group.
And there we would stand for the next three hours, waiting to get a definitive answer from the manager whether he would open that day.
It was to be one of the most bizarre experiences of my life, for in over 30 years of traveling the world, I have never seen such inhospitality as I witnessed that day. During the hour it took for me to go back down to the ski area and get the last of our group, our trip leader had been trying to get someone to come to the door to no avail (he could see people inside; the bird banders, the manager, and another person whose position I didn't hear, if it was known), and another in our group with a cel phone had been calling the Crest House's number, which no one was answering.
Long story short, after an hour and forty minutes, the manager finally deigned to come to the door. He "couldn't open up yet" because his staff hadn't made it up the unplowed road, which was certainly reasonable. But when asked if it would be all right if we could just stand inside the door to get warmed up, he refused saying he had no one to run the café. We promised we wouldn't buy anything or even come all the way into the café or gift shop, but he still said no. One of the Tucson group went so far as to offer him $10 each (for a total of $120) just to come inside, and he declined that as well. The reason we hung around, sitting in my car in shifts with the engine running so people could get warmed up again, is because he couldn't decide whether he was going to open. If he'd definitively said "no" (even if later he changed his mind), we would have started shuttling people back down the mountain immediately. But he "wasn't sure" and then he refused to talk any further to our group leader.
We were not the only ones up there that morning. At least three other carloads of people, two with scopes and binoculars (obviously birders), came and then went when they discovered the Crest House wasn't yet open.
Over the next hour and a half, we alternately stood on one of the walks to an upper observation deck to see what birds we could (Mountain Chickadee, Western Scrub and Steller's jay, White- and Red-breasted Nuthatch, Dark-eyed Junco -- but no Rosy-Finches), stood under the canopy leading to another entrance to the building, or sitting in my car. Finally, around 1 p.m., we decided to start shuttling people back down to the vans and leave. I was disappointed for two reasons: Not only would seeing the Rosy-Finches have been "lifers" for me, but I was keenly interested in seeing the banding process, something I've never watched. As most banders use nets to capture birds, I was especially interested in the "trap" that this research group uses, which I understood is a type of maze.
Of course our group as a whole was disappointed and frustrated. But I was very embarrassed for the Maryland couple who were very nice people and who had traveled a very, very long way to see these special birds. I was relieved we had no international visitors who would no doubt have been dumbfounded by the manager's attitude and his utter lack of compassion for a group of fellow humans who wanted nothing more than to get out of the weather while he made up his mind whether to open.
Fast-forward to two days later, Tuesday, February 1, when I was headed back home from Socorro via Albuquerque and decided to take another chance on the Crest House being open. As I drove up I-25 that morning, the sun on the Sandia Mountains was breathtaking, even though the very top of Sandia Peak was obscured by what few clouds there were huddled around the summit. This time, the road was almost completely clear all the way to the top with just a few patches of snow left in the more shaded areas. And Crest House was open!
When I first walked into the House, the cook was the only one there, and as I bought a cup of coffee and some snacks, he said the birds had been in once already that morning. (I didn't get there 'til just after 10 a.m. and had already eaten a great breakfast at El Camino Family Restaurant in Socorro.) He said that there'd been a group there on Sunday who got really mad because he wouldn't let them in, but he tried to tell them they weren't open. He also said that the road got plowed at 2:00 and that's when they finally opened.
I.e., about 45 minutes after I shuttled the last of our group to the vans on Sunday.
I was so amazed that he said anything at all about "the Sunday group," I honestly didn't know how to respond, so I didn't. I was the only customer there at the moment, so I sat down at one of the tables nearest the door to the observation deck, outside of which hangs the one feeder where it's easiest to view the finches. The deck obviously hadn't been shoveled since Sunday's storm and there was a sign taped to the door: "Deck closed due to ice and snow. Sorry."
Eventually, I was joined by two other birding couples, one from California and another from the midwest. Suddenly, the first of three visitations by the finches occurred, and everything came to a halt for the few minutes these frenetic, beautiful little birds came swooping in on the feeder. Then, nearly as quickly, they disappeared again in a swirling flurry of wings. As the first couple who had ordered food went to the counter to pay, they were talking excitedly about the birds when the cook said to them almost verbatim what he'd said to me: How a group of birders up on Sunday "got really mad because they couldn't come in because we were closed."
A short while later when the second couple went up to pay for their food, the manager appeared carrying a bank bag, and he started chatting with them, and he, too, said that there'd been a group of birders up on Sunday who got "really mad" at him when he wouldn't open the place up. And then "they got ticked off because the bird banders were inside" but they weren't allowed to come in, too. "Usually birders are really nice, friendly people, but this group sure wasn't. What could I do? I didn't have any staff here. Nobody could get up the mountain."
I am by now intrigued by the compulsion of these Crest House personnel to tell what was clearly "their side" of a story which, as far as I knew, only involved those of us there on Sunday. It soon became apparent why they felt the need to justify their behavior.
Posted on the official www.rosyfinch.com website is an "Important Note (January 31, 2005)" written apparently by one of the bird banders who was at Crest House on Sunday, January 30. Without benefit of contacting our group leader to get "our side" of the story, this person instead took it upon him- or herself to publicly pass judgement, make condescending remarks, and even accuse our group of cutting short "their operations" by causing a "disburbance" and of attempting "to enter the building without authorization."
A "disturbance"? Talking -- no shouting, no ranting, no jumping up and down -- to the manager through the door? And who is it who allegedly attempted to break into the place? If I thought I was dumbfounded at what I heard from Crest House personnel, I was absolutely shocked by what was and still is posted on the rosyfinch.com website. This "Important Note" is even more disturbing as the banders did not participate in the conversation between our group leader and the manager and have no first-hand knowledge of what was actually said. The writer clearly states that our group's "actions were described as being discourteous." Described by whom? The management?
It now seems crystal clear from what I observed that the manager and one employee felt guilty, or at least defensive, over their treatment of our group and that the bird banders, who have a vested interest in not criticizing the actions of the Crest House management, chose to bolster their position with the Crest House management by publishing this unprofessional, inappropriate and untruthful statement. The Crest House manager's refusal to answer the phone long after the posted opening time and his further refusal to even make an appearance to speak to our group leader for an hour and forty minutes are indefensible actions and a sign of extremely poor management and public relations skills. While he was perfectly within his right to refuse us entry to get out of the weather, sheer human kindness should have dictated otherwise.
What is more disheartening than the treatment we received is the stain on the legacy that Ken and Mary Lou Schneider worked so hard to create and so graciously made available to the birding world. I hope that other birders will learn from our unfortunate experience and think twice before making Sandia Crest a birding destination -- until some sorely needed management changes are made.
Sincerely,
Katy Penland
Overgaard, AZ
USA
cc: Ernest Montoya, owner, Sandia Crest House
Gene Romero, manager, Sandia Crest House
US Forest Service, Cibola National Forest, Sandia Ranger District
Ken and Mary Lou Schneider
Rick Wright, Aimophila Adventures
BirdForum.net
Albuquerque Journal
Albuquerque Tribune
to the owner and management of Sandia Crest House
Albuquerque, New Mexico
February 11, 2005
"Refrigerator Birding"
Good name for a mid-winter birding adventure to the summit of Sandia Peak in the Sandia Mountains east of Albuquerque, New Mexico. At elevation 10,678 feet, this is where three species of Rosy-Finches over-winter (Black Rosy-Finch [Leucosticte atrata], Brown-capped Rosy-Finch [Leucosticte australis] and Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch [Leucosticte tephrocotis]). Although the birds have been recorded regularly since the 1950s, it wasn't until 1999 when Ken and Mary Lou Schneider spearheaded a cooperative effort to make the birds more accessible to the public by placing feeders on and around the Crest House, which contains a gift shop and a small café. Three hundred feet lower and a few miles down the road from the Crest House is a popular local ski area.
Because I live in northeast Arizona, I hooked up with a birding group from Tucson, AZ, on the second day of their trip when they got to Albuquerque, and together we were going to see first the Rosy-Finches in the Sandias, and the next day head south to Socorro and the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge. After that, the Tucson group and I would part company to head to our respective home cities. One of the couples with the Tucson folks was from Maryland, so they were really excited about this trip.
On January 30, we awoke to snow on the ground in Albuquerque and still lightly snowing as we headed up the Sandia Crest Highway. While the snow plow was already at work on the road to the ski area, it wasn't plowing the rest of the road to the summit. I have a 4WD Chevy Tahoe S-10 and had no problem at all on the unplowed road, and by the tracks in the snow, there had been several vehicles up before we were. The two 2WD Tucson vans, however, started to lose traction. A friendly sheriff's deputy in a 4WD rig directed the van drivers to go back and park in the ski area lot while he and I each took a carload up to the Crest House. We were there before the Crest House opened at 9:30, so 9 of our group of 12 waited outside and I returned to the ski area to get the two van drivers and bring them to the top.
Probably close to 10" of snow had fallen, but the upper parking lot at the Crest House was already cleared by its snow plow, and another guy was running a snow blower to clear the walkways. It was now around 10:30 a.m., and I was surprised to see people still standing outside in the snow and wind when I pulled up with the last of our group.
And there we would stand for the next three hours, waiting to get a definitive answer from the manager whether he would open that day.
It was to be one of the most bizarre experiences of my life, for in over 30 years of traveling the world, I have never seen such inhospitality as I witnessed that day. During the hour it took for me to go back down to the ski area and get the last of our group, our trip leader had been trying to get someone to come to the door to no avail (he could see people inside; the bird banders, the manager, and another person whose position I didn't hear, if it was known), and another in our group with a cel phone had been calling the Crest House's number, which no one was answering.
Long story short, after an hour and forty minutes, the manager finally deigned to come to the door. He "couldn't open up yet" because his staff hadn't made it up the unplowed road, which was certainly reasonable. But when asked if it would be all right if we could just stand inside the door to get warmed up, he refused saying he had no one to run the café. We promised we wouldn't buy anything or even come all the way into the café or gift shop, but he still said no. One of the Tucson group went so far as to offer him $10 each (for a total of $120) just to come inside, and he declined that as well. The reason we hung around, sitting in my car in shifts with the engine running so people could get warmed up again, is because he couldn't decide whether he was going to open. If he'd definitively said "no" (even if later he changed his mind), we would have started shuttling people back down the mountain immediately. But he "wasn't sure" and then he refused to talk any further to our group leader.
We were not the only ones up there that morning. At least three other carloads of people, two with scopes and binoculars (obviously birders), came and then went when they discovered the Crest House wasn't yet open.
Over the next hour and a half, we alternately stood on one of the walks to an upper observation deck to see what birds we could (Mountain Chickadee, Western Scrub and Steller's jay, White- and Red-breasted Nuthatch, Dark-eyed Junco -- but no Rosy-Finches), stood under the canopy leading to another entrance to the building, or sitting in my car. Finally, around 1 p.m., we decided to start shuttling people back down to the vans and leave. I was disappointed for two reasons: Not only would seeing the Rosy-Finches have been "lifers" for me, but I was keenly interested in seeing the banding process, something I've never watched. As most banders use nets to capture birds, I was especially interested in the "trap" that this research group uses, which I understood is a type of maze.
Of course our group as a whole was disappointed and frustrated. But I was very embarrassed for the Maryland couple who were very nice people and who had traveled a very, very long way to see these special birds. I was relieved we had no international visitors who would no doubt have been dumbfounded by the manager's attitude and his utter lack of compassion for a group of fellow humans who wanted nothing more than to get out of the weather while he made up his mind whether to open.
Fast-forward to two days later, Tuesday, February 1, when I was headed back home from Socorro via Albuquerque and decided to take another chance on the Crest House being open. As I drove up I-25 that morning, the sun on the Sandia Mountains was breathtaking, even though the very top of Sandia Peak was obscured by what few clouds there were huddled around the summit. This time, the road was almost completely clear all the way to the top with just a few patches of snow left in the more shaded areas. And Crest House was open!
When I first walked into the House, the cook was the only one there, and as I bought a cup of coffee and some snacks, he said the birds had been in once already that morning. (I didn't get there 'til just after 10 a.m. and had already eaten a great breakfast at El Camino Family Restaurant in Socorro.) He said that there'd been a group there on Sunday who got really mad because he wouldn't let them in, but he tried to tell them they weren't open. He also said that the road got plowed at 2:00 and that's when they finally opened.
I.e., about 45 minutes after I shuttled the last of our group to the vans on Sunday.
I was so amazed that he said anything at all about "the Sunday group," I honestly didn't know how to respond, so I didn't. I was the only customer there at the moment, so I sat down at one of the tables nearest the door to the observation deck, outside of which hangs the one feeder where it's easiest to view the finches. The deck obviously hadn't been shoveled since Sunday's storm and there was a sign taped to the door: "Deck closed due to ice and snow. Sorry."
Eventually, I was joined by two other birding couples, one from California and another from the midwest. Suddenly, the first of three visitations by the finches occurred, and everything came to a halt for the few minutes these frenetic, beautiful little birds came swooping in on the feeder. Then, nearly as quickly, they disappeared again in a swirling flurry of wings. As the first couple who had ordered food went to the counter to pay, they were talking excitedly about the birds when the cook said to them almost verbatim what he'd said to me: How a group of birders up on Sunday "got really mad because they couldn't come in because we were closed."
A short while later when the second couple went up to pay for their food, the manager appeared carrying a bank bag, and he started chatting with them, and he, too, said that there'd been a group of birders up on Sunday who got "really mad" at him when he wouldn't open the place up. And then "they got ticked off because the bird banders were inside" but they weren't allowed to come in, too. "Usually birders are really nice, friendly people, but this group sure wasn't. What could I do? I didn't have any staff here. Nobody could get up the mountain."
I am by now intrigued by the compulsion of these Crest House personnel to tell what was clearly "their side" of a story which, as far as I knew, only involved those of us there on Sunday. It soon became apparent why they felt the need to justify their behavior.
Posted on the official www.rosyfinch.com website is an "Important Note (January 31, 2005)" written apparently by one of the bird banders who was at Crest House on Sunday, January 30. Without benefit of contacting our group leader to get "our side" of the story, this person instead took it upon him- or herself to publicly pass judgement, make condescending remarks, and even accuse our group of cutting short "their operations" by causing a "disburbance" and of attempting "to enter the building without authorization."
A "disturbance"? Talking -- no shouting, no ranting, no jumping up and down -- to the manager through the door? And who is it who allegedly attempted to break into the place? If I thought I was dumbfounded at what I heard from Crest House personnel, I was absolutely shocked by what was and still is posted on the rosyfinch.com website. This "Important Note" is even more disturbing as the banders did not participate in the conversation between our group leader and the manager and have no first-hand knowledge of what was actually said. The writer clearly states that our group's "actions were described as being discourteous." Described by whom? The management?
It now seems crystal clear from what I observed that the manager and one employee felt guilty, or at least defensive, over their treatment of our group and that the bird banders, who have a vested interest in not criticizing the actions of the Crest House management, chose to bolster their position with the Crest House management by publishing this unprofessional, inappropriate and untruthful statement. The Crest House manager's refusal to answer the phone long after the posted opening time and his further refusal to even make an appearance to speak to our group leader for an hour and forty minutes are indefensible actions and a sign of extremely poor management and public relations skills. While he was perfectly within his right to refuse us entry to get out of the weather, sheer human kindness should have dictated otherwise.
What is more disheartening than the treatment we received is the stain on the legacy that Ken and Mary Lou Schneider worked so hard to create and so graciously made available to the birding world. I hope that other birders will learn from our unfortunate experience and think twice before making Sandia Crest a birding destination -- until some sorely needed management changes are made.
Sincerely,
Katy Penland
Overgaard, AZ
USA
cc: Ernest Montoya, owner, Sandia Crest House
Gene Romero, manager, Sandia Crest House
US Forest Service, Cibola National Forest, Sandia Ranger District
Ken and Mary Lou Schneider
Rick Wright, Aimophila Adventures
BirdForum.net
Albuquerque Journal
Albuquerque Tribune