A Dance at Dawn: Witnessing the Prairie’s Story of the Lesser Prairie Chicken
- Tanner Colvin
- Apr 17
- 3 min read
This week’s guest on Ask A Kansan was Matt Bain, Director of Conservation with The Nature Conservancy in Kansas. During his time in the studio, Matt spoke passionately about the need to protect the prairie ecosystem. He shared a staggering statistic: 62% of all North American grasslands have vanished, and Kansas retains only 20% of its native prairie. These grasslands play a crucial role in capturing carbon and helping keep our drinking water clean. One key indicator of a healthy prairie is the Lesser Prairie Chicken, whose decline is directly tied to habitat loss across the Great Plains.
Matt also shared that two-thirds of the Lesser Prairie Chicken population now exists in a narrow strip of land between Hays and the Colorado border. That part of Kansas—often described as flat and boring—is actually vital to the species’ survival. Many who travel I-70 see it as an unbroken sea of grass, that uninterrupted corridor is exactly what allows the Lesser Prairie Chicken to survive.
The Nature Conservancy of Kansas is working hand in hand with farmers, ranchers, and energy developers to protect these landscapes. One success story is the Smoky Valley Ranch, south of Oakley, Kansas, where visitors can experience the prairie as it once was. They also partner with Prairie Tours & Guide Service to offer a unique opportunity to witness a morning on the lek. So, in the spirit of being a Curious Kansan, we did just that.
On a Wednesday morning, hours before sunrise in Oakley, Kansas, I met James, our tour guide, who shared what to expect once we reached the lek. We followed behind him as we made our way out of town. Before long, pavement turned to gravel, and even in the darkness, the dust cloud from our five-vehicle convoy was impossible to escape.
We arrived at a cattle gate and stepped out. A couple from New Jersey, several folks from Colorado, and a woman from North Carolina had all gathered for the same experience. We were ushered into a cattle trailer that had been cleaned and converted into a blind. As we settled in, it wasn’t long before we heard a strange sound cutting through the darkness.
Slowly, as the sun began to rise, the pitch black gave way to movement—dark shapes darting across the prairie. As dawn broke, we could finally see what we had been hearing. The lek was alive. Male Lesser Prairie Chickens danced in display for several hens. The females remained calm as each male inflated the air sacs on the sides of their throats, lowered their heads, stomped their feet, and produced a sound known as booming.
Occasionally, a male would enter another’s territory, sparking a quick skirmish in the air. In total, we observed 23 birds: one Greater Prairie Chicken, a few hybrids, and the rest Lesser Prairie Chickens.
As the morning continued, a hawk swooped down, scattering the prairie chickens. But before it was even out of sight, the birds returned to the lek—though the hens had moved on, likely to visit another lek. With no female to impress, the lek grew relatively quiet. The males paired off and settled into the grass. An eager meadowlark filled the silence with song as our tour came to a close.
As I drove back to Salina, the prairie looked different—no longer empty, but alive with purpose. It’s easy to pass by places like this without a second thought, but mornings like this remind you what’s really out there. As Theodore Roosevelt once said, “The beauty and charm of the wilderness are his for the asking, for the edges of the wilderness lie close beside the beaten roads of the present travel.”
Out there, just off I-70, that couldn’t be more true.
To watch Matts full episode: https://youtu.be/frgCh912j5Q
Photos, video, and article by Tanner Colvin
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