This week’s FeatherQuest challenge was Gnatcatchers & Dippers, and the American Dipper was the clear target. I headed up the Provo River on a hot summer evening, knowing the canyon would steal the light early and hopeful the river would cooperate.

Along the way, I ran into two fly fishermen—Andreas and his friend Adrian—working the same stretch of water from a very different perspective. We traded stories about currents, flies, birds, and FeatherQuest. For a few minutes, the river became shared ground instead of individual pursuits.

Before the river offered anything definitive, it offered uncertainty. One peculiar young bunting appeared in the brush—the kind of bird that pauses you instead of rewarding you. I ran a quick in-field photo by Merlin, which leaned toward Indigo, something that would be remarkable here, but something about it felt off. Lazuli Buntings were clearly seen singing in the trees, so who knows... Indigo, Lazuli, or something in between—sometimes, you don’t get clear resolution.

Nearby, a small family of Gray Catbirds moved through the same thicket—two adults on alert, and then on my return I noticed a softer, quieter juvenile. It felt like a snapshot of a season already in motion.

The first dipper showed itself mid-river—bobbing, weaving, unmistakable. Mission accomplished, at least on paper. I watched it for a few minutes work the current with a confidence that only comes from living inside the flow instead of fighting it. Victorious, I decided it was time to head back, as the light was quickly fading.

Then, the real excitement came on the walk back. A second dipper flew in close and began fishing almost at my feet. In just minutes, it worked the same pocket of water again and again—disappearing beneath the surface, reemerging, and swallowing its finds with practiced efficiency. First a tiny larva, then a thick aquatic nymph, and finally a small minnow. It was impossible not to grin. This was the river rewarding patience.

As the light faded behind the canyon walls, juvenile Yellow Warblers flitted through the willows—friendly, busy, and forgiving of imperfect light. A cheerful send-off after an evening well spent.