Mad AZ Monk

A Sod Story Ends In Bittern-ness

Just back from a three-day jaunt to far SE Arizona with my birding buddy Tom Linda, mind reeling from new habitats, life and state birds, and sketchy lodging and vittles.

Got off a little later than planned Friday, the first stop being the Rousseau Sod Farms east of Phoenix, chasing reported Lapland and McCown's Longspurs. Neither of us thought we had been there, but when we approached, we realized we had just blocked it out as a coping mechanism. Some time last year, we had spent more time than grown men ought sorting through American Pipits, looking for a reported Sprague's. Now you have to understand, "sorting through" means scanning what seems like about 5000 acres of flat grass and irrigation pipes. Put in scientific terms, there were >1 zillion pipits, sprinkled with Killdeer, Least and Western Sandpipers, Horned Larks, Great-tailed Grackles and Brewer's Blackbirds. But no longspurs, despite about 2 hours' search. We grumped out of there and on to Willcox. Checked in at a Motel 8. For those of you overseas, this is funny because all over America is a chain called "Motel 6". So we reveled in being situated in a room that was 2 better. Sampled the local BBQ, the result of which was 36 hours of Krakatoan flatulence. In certain situations, that might be horrifying. For two guys on a birding trip, it was endlessly funny.

Saturday began more auspiciously, with a "V" of Canada Geese joined by two Snow Geese. Visiting the local golf course (really one of the sorriest I've ever seen), we dipped again, this time on Scaled Quail. The legendary Willcox Lake (not being facetious--this body of water has produced some of AZ's most outrageous rarities) contained a nice array of waterfowl, but nothing to set us to yodeling. We agreed to tuck into a good breakfast and see about our main target--Sandhill Crane.

For years, I have read that ~20,000 cranes winter in the area south of Willcox known as the Sulphur Springs Valley. This year, I decided the only way to break my crushing post-election funk was to go see them. Following general directions, we cruised down Kansas Settlement Road. Hearing the sound, we stopped and there was my first magnificent handful. Feeling pleased, we continued on until we heard a louder batch. Stopped again. And here they came. And came. And came. At the height of the influx, at least 1000 cranes wheeled and trumpeted in the sky above us in this strangely orderly chaos, flooding my mind with indescribable pleasure. It hardly registered that I also picked up my life Chihuahuan Raven.

Reluctantly moving on, we aimed east toward the mighty Chiricahua Mountains, a towering sky island that provided the last refuge for Geronimo and Cochise. Our reason for going was more mundane, but compelling nonetheless. This is the only spot in the ABA area to pick up Mexican Chickadee and Yellow-eyed Junco. We found the first at Pinery Campground and the second at Rustler Park higher up (high enough even for a dusting of snow). The orangey-yellow eyeball on the junco, set against its black mask, gives it an unsettlingly homicidal look. We skedaddled. On the way down, after arguing over who would be Elton John and who Kiki Dee, we sang "Junco breaking my heart", "I couldn't if I tried..."

Down to the valley again for a closer inspection of the cranes at Whitewater Draw Wildlife Area. This large drainage is where the cranes loaf in the afternoon and roost at night. Nothing prepared me for the sight and sound of thousands upon thousands of cranes landing, launching, cruising about, and dancing. They lined the entire far shore, 5-10 deep. I was simply awestruck.

Further investigation produced an unexpected lifer, Cassin's Sparrow, and the amazing sight of a Great Horned Owl perched atop a snag next to a Vermillion Flycatcher. Taking a last look before we left, two whopping, dark gulls flew in. Scope inspection showed them to be an excellent state bird, Herring Gulls.

Off to the west, settling in Sierra Vista for the night. Up nice and early for a visit to the San Pedro House area of the San Pedro Riparian Watershed. This corridor follows the only river in America that flows south-north (update--AZ birding guru Mark Stevenson writes in to tell me the Willamette River in Oregon flows S-N. Perhaps there are others...). 350 species of birds have been recorded here, but we were after one little demon--the Green Kingfisher. Schlepped ourselves out to Kingfisher Pond, looked and looked and looked. Nada. The kingfisher had been one of Tom's top nemesis birds. Now, after three different attempts to locate one, it's becoming mine. Of course, the sightings book reported it each of several previous days. Next time I look for it, I'm leaving Tom in the car.

Ah, well. No birding trip would feel complete without at least one visit to a wastewater treatment plant. So we drove to Avra Valley south of Tucson, dreaming of the American Bittern, a very rare visitor to the state, that had been reported. As we tromped out, the sky cleared but a massive wind whipped up (wastewater ponds don't exactly produce "white"caps). Tons of waterfowl, including two state birds for me, Hooded Merganser and Greater Scaup, but all the windblown squinting in the world couldn't produce the bittern (hadn't been seen for days).

That wrapped it up. 99 species observed; 911 miles logged. Five lifers and three Arizona birds for me, some new habitats and a soul-cleansing for Tom. Can't wait to go back!

Full trip list in separate post.

Posted by MadMonk at November 15, 2004 02:19 AM