Image credit: Park staff nicknamed this ostrich "Rocky." NPS

Fall 2025

Free As a Bird?

By Nicolas Brulliard

A trio of ostriches went on a field trip to Death Valley. Wrangling ensued.

This past spring, Roger Anderson was driving into Death Valley National Park along with his daughter and a friend when he saw a very large moving object that appeared to be heading straight for his car.

“What in the world is that thing?” Anderson remembered thinking, as he slowed down.

That “thing” turned out to be an ostrich, the world’s largest bird and a species native to sub-Saharan Africa.

Death Valley is no stranger to non-native animals. It is home to herds of wild donkeys, and many years ago an emu — the ostrich’s slightly smaller Australian cousin — was spotted at Badwater Basin. Still, when visitors started reporting ostrich sightings around April 1, staff wondered if it was a joke. “It was definitely exciting, bizarre news, even for Death Valley,” said Abby Wines, the park’s deputy superintendent.

And it was not the fake kind. Not one but three big birds were indeed roaming in and near the park. A few days after the initial reports, three park employees, including a botanist and an EMT, headed to Echo Canyon, where one of the outsiders had taken up residence. Ostriches can’t fly, but they easily outrun most humans, so park staff approached the long-legged bird slowly, luring it with water yet avoiding making eye contact. After multiple attempts, they caught it with poles equipped with nooses and put it in a horse trailer.

The ostrich stayed in the trailer near Wines’ house for a couple of days while rangers tried to locate its owner. Eventually, an ostrich farmer from the nearby Amargosa Valley took possession of it. The other two escapees were caught outside the park in the following weeks. Wines said she didn’t know the name of the fugitives’ owner, and when asked whether the runaways were his, the proprietor of a large ostrich farm in Amargosa Valley told us “not really, thank you,” before hanging up.

The three ostriches may be gone, but they made a lasting impression on the few visitors who saw them, even for a fleeting moment. Miriam Stabler, Anderson’s daughter, was able to capture footage of the unlikely encounter — a full nine seconds of the springy ostrich zooming away until it was no more than a small brown dot. “That was really a treat to see,” Anderson said.

About the author

This article appeared in the Fall 2025 issue

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