Mad AZ Monk

Hot Diggity Dang!!

Two days of high winds made me want to see what blew in (a reported Black Skimmer in Durango, CO got everyone hot 'n' bothered). A quick tour of Sedona Wastewater turned up a great find: a flock of 23 Marbled Godwits! Last Verde Valley record I'm aware of is 1997. I'm quickly getting over not finding Franklin's Gulls!

5/1 UPDATE: My friends John and Tom cruised what we call the "M Lakes" near Flagstaff, having the same suspicion that the winds might have blown in migrants. They scored hard: a total of 36 Marbled Godwits, 55 American Avocets, 26 Semipalmated Plovers, 18 Long-billed Dowitchers, 11 White-faced Ibis, and 4 species of gull, including 21 Franklin's. Another friend, Roger, who compiles a lot of the area data, says flocks of godwits have been seen the past two years.

We're having a really rare shorebird year. Check out the details at the Northern Arizona Sightings Forum.

Verde Valley Birdfest Photos!

Verde Valley Birding Festival participant Kirk Stitt just sent me a couple of wonderful shots from the field trip he, his wife and I were on in Oak Creek Canyon.

Here's one of the American Dippers at Slide Rock State Park preparing to flap up and stuff more nesting material into the hole in the bank:

And here are the two Great Horned Owlets growing up quite nicely in their sycamore at Red Rock State Park:

Both were real crowd-pleasers. Thanks, Kirk!

Now, can anyone tell me how to upload images so they don't create a whole new entry? I cut and pasted this, but there must be a way to put multiple images in one post. Please answer in the comments so others might benefit.

Saw What?

Well. Yesterday was a royally crappy day. My two birding buddies, aware of this, insisted that I must drive up to the San Francisco Peaks for an evening of owling. Grumbling and cranky, I agreed.

The Peaks, towering above Flagstaff, are dominated by Mount Humphreys, which is the sacred western mountain of the Navajo and Hopi, soaring well over 12,000'. Ponderosa forest gives way to mixed pine, aspen and alpine meadow until finally the tree line gives way at about 11,800'. It is one of the only places in Arizona to find Blue Grouse, Clark's Nutcracker, Three-toed Woodpecker and Golden-crowned Kinglet.

But our target was Northern Saw-whet Owl. We were aided by a bright quarter moon and complete absence of wind. I had never seen nor heard a saw-whet before but, based on my friends' accurate imitation, found that one started calling just at twilight in a grove near us.

We pursued, but the ground was so crunchy with leaves and twigs, we spooked it and it flew deeper into the forest. Thus began a stealthy hunt for the next 90 minutes or so. Time seemed to fly by. We were quite focused; the woods were so silent, save the insistent call of the saw-whet.

We finally narrowed our hunt to one tree and creeped in. The bugger perched quite high, but no longer seemed spooked. Both of my friends were catching eyeshine, but I couldn't locate it. Then, boom, there it was, posed briefly in full view on an exposed branch before taking off. Yowza.

During our pursuit, and on the way back to the car, we also heard several Flammulated Owls. We tried to light one up, but it was nestled too far back in dense pine branches.

This morning, I entered the rest of my Arizona sightings in the AviSys database. By my written records, the saw-whet should have been #298, but as with my life list, it was quite flawed. Turns out, the owl was AZ bird #306 and lifer #414!

My thanx to Birding Buddies Tom and John for truly brightening an otherwise dreary day.

Nemesis Birds

My repeated failure to see Franklin's Gulls this spring (or ever), despite their being easily seen in abundance by others just hours previously, has prompted a discussion at the Northern Arizona Audubon site about the Nemesis Bird.

The Nemesis Bird is one that ought to be found in season, in a variety of locations, or a well-known, staked-out location. But you never see it. And all your friends do (when you're not around, of course). It's reported elsewhere nearby, you start to drive absurd distances to chase it down (I logged at least 100 miles yesterday pursuing the gulls), and you hear a lot of, "That's strange. It was just here an hour ago."

At the Audubon site, we're resorting to explanations that seem rational, including demonic influence and punishment for ill behavior in previous lives.

In the Eastern U.S., I had two birds like this: Pine Warbler and Mississippi Kite. Still haven't seen either of them. It's to the point where I have a fear response when I see sightings of them posted.

For my friend John, it's Red-breasted Sapsucker. He's whiffed on it in three states. For Tom, it was Green Kingfisher. Not sure what torments him now.

And you? You know you have one. Tell us which one it is in the comments below, and what futile lengths you've gone to in order to see it. Come on, you'll feel better.

Verde Valley Birding Festival, Part IV

Last day of the Verde Valley Birding & Nature Festival. I led the beginner's walk through Dead Horse Ranch State Park. Having done it only once before, last year, I got a little turned around. But it turned out to be a happy accident, cuz I turned up some birds my folks hadn't seen before: Lark Sparrow, Green-tailed Towhee, and Brewer's Sparrow. The two highlights were a female Anna's Hummingbird on her tiny nest right next to the trail and a thermal lofting up a Common Black-hawk, Red-tailed Hawk and Cooper's Hawk in close proximity.

The festival was a big hit, with 171 species tallied by the time I left. This is compared with the dismal 150 from last year. And even so, there were some birds that were, astoundingly, completely missing, including MacGillivray's, Wilson's, Townsend's and Red-faced Warbler, Hermit Thrush, and Cassin's Vireo. With all our stars lined up, we could approach 200.

Now, it's time to tune up for the May 8 Bird-a-thon. The team I'm on, the Raven Lunatics, is seeking another win and to beat our total species count from last year, 127.

Verde Valley Birding Festival, Part III

Led my first all-day trip for the Verde Valley Birding Festival, working one of my favorite spots on the planet, Oak Creek Canyon.

Oak Creek Canyon (OCC) is created by, you guessed it, Oak Creek, with most of the elevation supporting ponderosa pine forest with Arizona sycamores, ash, and walnut along the stream. About halfway down, the creek is met by West Fork, another permanent stream which has created its own stunning canyon. Since it is so much cooler than the valley and boasts permanent spring-fed water, OCC is almost impossibly crowded in summer. But today it was perfect.

We started by sneaking into the gated overlook at the top, a vista which affords a total view all the way to Sedona's red rocks. The trip started nicely with unusually good looks at singing Grace's Warblers and soaring Band-tailed Pigeons.

Skedaddling before the rangers got there, we made our first major stop at Cave Springs. There's a big campground there but it's separate from some excellent riparian habitat combined with long abandoned apple orchards. As always, the crowd pleaser was the antics of the Painted Redstart, a ubiquitous bird this time of year. Nothing much else special turned up until we went into the campground, invited by the camp host to view his three hummingbird feeders.

Breakfast was on for the little whizzers, and we quickly had tight views of Broad-tailed, Black-chinned, and Anna's Hummingbirds. But then the feeder tilted heavily, and when the (relatively) enormous culprit turned to flash its electric green throat, I knew we had a major prize: Magnificent Hummingbird! If the mags show up in our area at all, it's usually in OCC (with nesting records even) but they're very, very few and far between. And I'd never seen one here.

I love getting a killer bird early in a trip, cuz then the rest is just gravy.

We moved downcanyon to West Fork. The reliable parking lot treat there are the hysterical Acorn Woodpeckers. I took everyone to the site where there has been Sulphur-bellied Flycatcher in the past but my luck wasn't that good. Had fine looks at Black-throated Gray Warbler, though. The rest of WF was not too terribly productive after that except for singing Virginia's Warbler.

A little lunch, then down again to Slide Rock State Park. We were looking for the resident American Dippers, a rarity in AZ. The photo in the link shows you exactly the grey rocks upon which said dippers hang out.

Well, they weren't there when we arrived, provoking Trip Leader High Anxiety. But the rocks were so dappled with droppings that I figured we could wait. And we didn't wait long, as one came zipping in, its beak stuffed with dead leaves. It then dipped on a rock in the stream--one, two, three--and flew up to midway on the rocky bank and crawled into a half-stuffed hole to deposit the leaves. A nest! We spent the next 30 minutes thoroughly delighting ourselves watching the dippers build/repair their nest and cavort in the creek.

Whew! Finally, down to the far side of Sedona and a quick visit to Red Rock State Park. We fulfilled the primary aim right away -- getting our fill of the semi-exposed Great Horned Owl's nest, replete with mama and two big ol' babies. Because of the fees, I'd never really explored this park much, but found it thoroughly delightful.

Willet? Yes, It Will!

Once in a great while, it's actually a good idea to listen to the voices in my head. After lunch, buzzing with the morning at Beaver Creek, this particular voice insisted I visit Sedona Wastewater. For this, I thank it. Within an hour, I had turned up eight new species for the patch, two of which I hadn't seen in that county, and one of which was a lifer!

The five new patch birds were: Greater Yellowlegs, Western Sandpiper, Green Heron, White-faced Ibis and Snowy Egret.

The two county birds were: Long-billed Dowitcher and Wilson's Phalarope.

And the lifer was (dum da da dummmm): a lovely Willet!

Verde Valley Birding Festival, Part II

Won't be able to report on the Festival as a whole until Sunday, as I'm meeting my trips at the locations.

But today, I led a group through a rip-roaring morning visiting various habitats along Wet Beaver Creek (yes, there's a Dry Beaver Creek, and yes, we've heard all the jokes before).

First stop was Montezuma Well. Typical desert species with the crowd pleaser being a singing male Summer Tanager. The picnic area would have been more productive, I think, but we were in a bit of a rush, having an appointment at V-V (say: vee bar vee) Ranch, famous for its ancient petroglyphs. Here the birding really picked up. The group loved seeing nesting Hooded Oriole, a Phainopepla building a nest, and tight looks at Yellow-breasted Chat and Vermillion Flycatcher.

But we capped it with two major treats. The first was a Swainson's Hawk lifting off a perch and soaring low just above us, every detail of his plumage illuminated by the Arizona sun. He caught a thermal that happened to be already occupied by a Common Black-hawk. The intrusion displeased the latter, who dive-bombed the SWHA until it skedaddled.

The second treat was a mysterious bird we really puzzled over. Following what we thought was a thorough process of elimination, I called it as a Bendire's Thrasher. Consulting one of the local geniuses, though, it seems likelier to have been a Curve-billed Thrasher. Either one, however, will be one of the top birds of the festival. They're quite far out of range.

The morning finished happily with in-your-face looks at Black-throated Sparrows. More tomorrow from Oak Creek Canyon!

Verde Valley Birding Festival, Part I

Well, I led the first trip out of the gate of the Verde Valley Birding & Nature Festival. I took 16 Early Worms (who get the birds) out at 6 a.m. to Tavasci Marsh. This is a rare phenom in AZ -- a natural, spring-fed marsh. It spreads out near the Verde River as it snakes through the town of Clarkdale.

All started auspiciously. As soon as I got out of the car, a small flock of White-faced Ibis flew overhead. By the time we wrapped up at 10 a.m., we had observed 49 species. I considered that pretty light (virtually no warblers, vireos, empids or waterfowl). But there were two major highlights: a pair of soaring Swainson's Hawks (a lifer for me) and a Solitary Sandpiper, which I've never seen in that county.

All told, the festival is enjoying record registration for its trips. I'm leading ones all four days, so tune in tomorrow for the next installment!

Oh. Nevermind.

Turns out on my ABA list, I didn't tick Bald Eagle. So it's at 400. Contest cancelled!

Been lovely, if extremely windy, here in No. AZ. You really know you're in the West when the wind picks up. You actually have to dodge tumbleweeds on the highway!

Birding has been somewhat predictable. Summer Tanagers have just dropped in, as have Warbling Vireos and Lazuli Buntings. The one oddity this week was an Indigo Bunting at a local feeder.

Of Geese and Men

Some of you may think my chosen handle is just a bit of enigmatic cleverness. But the truth is, I'm a bona fide Tibetan Buddhist monk. How does my obsession with birding square with the Buddha's teaching on non-attachment? Well, yes, er...*ahem*...anyway...

I find there are many advantages to my chosen path. One of them is that on Easter Sunday I basically had the whole of Northern Arizona's wilderness to myself while other dutiful citizens were carving ham at Grandma's.

I decided to bird the slopes of Mingus Mountain, including a first-time visit to the ominously named Black Canyon because this little migrant trap is reputed to be a favored location of my spring nemesis, the Greater Pewee.

Heading west from Sedona to Cottonwood, I dropped in on the Verde Santa Fe golf course ponds. Seeing an expected flock of Ring-neck Ducks, I was about to head to the car when a flash of white caught my attention on the far bank. Up went the bins, and dang if it wasn't the Ross' Goose reported from there a few days earlier, just munching along the fairway. The last record of this bird in our county was four years ago. An auspicious beginning.

So. I cut north toward Camp Verde to bird along Salt Mine and Rodeo Flat Rds. on the lower slopes by the Verde River. Slow going at first, with only Bell's Vireos piquing interest. But as I got deeper along, the high desert scrub rang with the songs of several Scott's Orioles, my first for the year (and the mascot for this year's Verde Valley Birding and Nature Festival.)

On the way to Gap Creek, I decided to climb a craggy hill I'd been admiring on previous trips. Here the most ambitious yuccas were pushing up their amazing chandeliers of eggshell flowers, a few claret-cup hedgehog cacti were blooming, as were what I call the plain and fancy ocotillos. All were clearly taking advantage of the generous spring rainfall.

Climbing was steep and arduous, with the rocky soil being quite loose. Navigating the rock summit, I hauled myself within six feet of the top when the rock in my left hand dislodged completely. Down I went, ass over teakettle, miraculously missing all that lovely cactus. Upon inspection, I had collected several very impressive gashes and bruises on both legs, but nothing mortal. As a point of honor, I found an easier way to the summit, rewarded by a panoramic view of the Verde Valley, the tight, bouncy song of Black-chinned Sparrows and the carefree twitter of White-throated Swifts.

Back to the car and a short drive (disturbing, along the way, a flock of about 500 Chipping Sparrows) to the end of the line, Gap Creek. Alone on the trail I was delighted to find a first-of-spring Green-tailed Towhee, a Common Black-hawk in nesting mode and to hear the call of an unusually north White-winged Dove.

Early lunch followed with plans to get to Black Canyon via the hamlet of Cherry. A gorgeous, 11 winding miles through the Mingus foothills brings you to Cherry, one of Arizona's odder communities (As odd as the one called Why? I dunno. Third b...). Hugging the Prescott National Forest, it's at the far end of nowhere, present, I suppose, due to a spring nearby (the houses were nestled among mature riparian trees). My thought was, "Well, this is the perfect place to indulge your misanthropy." Needless to say, I jotted down the numbers on real estate signs.

Beyond Cherry, I found myself way on the west side of Mingus before I realized how completely I had overshot my turnoff (these are dirt Forest Service roads, not exactly well marked). It took so long to figure out my mistake because I was awestruck by the extent of the fire damage on that side, wondering when it had happened. Let me tell you, there's nothing so forlorn as a burnt prickly pear cactus in the middle of a fire-ravaged field.

I turned around and found FR132, happily whizzing through old ponderosa pine forest. Soon thereafter, nature urgently called, in the sense of...well, let's just say I had to make like a bear. Being a modest sort, I tromped into the forest, found the largest pine and settled in behind it.

Relief instantly gave way to alarm with my brain registering fiery prickles on my rear end. After a spastic, half-naked, butt-slapping dance truly unworthy of my order, I inspected the tree trunk to find millions (OK, several dozen) angry little ants running about, glaring at me and gnashing their bloody fangs. Life lesson learned.

The universe chose to balance this experience with the best look I've ever had at a singing Grace's Warbler.

And off down 132 (at this point less a road than, say, a goat track). The guidebook I was using neglected to mention that 132 may just be the most atrocious excuse for a road in Northern Arizona, testing my little Corolla to the absolute limit for what has to be the dictionary definition of "ten miles of bad road". After what seemed like hours, the road finally flattened out and I arrived at a "T" that seemed distubingly familiar. A quick check showed that yes, I'd missed my turn by 2 1/2 miles in my white-knuckled preoccupation with personal survival.

Turning around being out of the question, I parked and hiked up to Elks Well, enjoying the ponderosa nuthatches, Steller's Jays, Western Bluebirds etc., while learning something of the spring song of the Mountain Chickadee, with which I was unfamiliar.

Down the mountain through Jerome, the abandoned mining town turned funky artist enclave (motto? "The World's Most Vertical City". Local wags declare there's a constant drip of Viagra in the water supply), and back toward Sedona.

A twirl around the wastewater plant didn't turn up anything new, but showed that the Viagra may well be in there too. A Mallard led a parade of seven little ducklings and a pair of Coots fussed over six little...cootlings? (Don't like "cootlets" cuz it sounds like something you deep fry for dinner.) At any rate, I'd never seen these little fuzzballs with their red heads and beaks before and found them to be about the cutest (cootest? OK, I'll stop) things I've ever laid eyes on.

Happy Easter, indeed. Now excuse me while I go buy some discounted Cadbury eggs.

Refined Game

OK, I think it was too hard for people to guess which bird will be the Mad Monk's 400th ABA, mainly cuz of not knowing what I've seen. So, I'll list what I think are the top 20 candidates and you guess from there (only one species to one guesser!). Remember, there's still a prize! Here are the birds:

1. Greater Pewee
2. Swainson's Hawk
3. Franklin's Gull
4. Mississippi Kite
5. Vaux's Swift
6. Long-billed Curlew
7. Mexican Spotted Owl
8. Whiskered Screech Owl
9. Northern Shrike
10. Painted Bunting
11. Evening Grosbeak
12. Flame-colored Tanager
13. Berylline Hummingbird
14. Rufous-capped Warbler
15. Buff-breasted Flycatcher
16. Cassin's Sparrow
17. Botteri's Sparrow
18. Burrowing Owl
19. Streak-backed Oriole
20. Aztec Thrush

La France!!

Looks like my dates are set to visit my father in Provence: May 16 to June 2. I'm so psyched. I've been studying up on the French birds, but if there's anyone who is experienced with inland Provencal birding, please email me.

Out Like A Lamb?

Northern Arizona weather continues to be radically unsettled. As I was driving home this morning, they cut in on the radio to warn of a severe thunderstorm north of me liable to produce 1" hail and tornadoes!

Anyway, the Verde Valley where I birded the past couple of days has been just fine. We're having a cool, wet spring which is beyond welcome given the drought and wildfires that have characterized our hot seasons the past few years.

Looks like waterfowl made the big northward push. Numbers here are quite depleted.

But the migrants continue to trickle in. New spring birds today were: Virginia's and Black-throated Gray Warbler, Hooded and Bullock's Oriole, Gray Flycatcher and Zone-tailed Hawk. The latter was fairly spectacular. A pair soared low above Beaver Creek, just lazily riding a thermal. Then, a Common Black-hawk emerged low from the creekside sycamores. Apparently, this displeased one of the Zone-tails, who tucked into a power dive, missing the black-hawk by inches. He rose and dove again, this time hitting the blackhawk, who turned tail back into the sycamores, loudly complaining.

I Luv AviSys

Just finished entering my life list into the AviSys database software. Up to now, I simply wrote them in a book. Problem is, I made some early mistakes, forgot to include some common birds, and that early discombobulation skewed the numbers. Even with eliminating four birds I had seen in France because they appear to be the same species as N.A. birds, my list jumped from 401 to 410, with the ABA hovering at 399! I'm so glad it skewed up, pathetically shallow as I am.

So. Testing you all for pure psychic ability, since you don't know most of what I've already seen, what do you think will be my 400th ABA bird? If you guess and I've seen it I'll tell you, so we can keep the game going.

If you hit it, I'll send you a prize (really).

A Buddhist Ark?

Making a dent in seven years of drought, it's still raining steadily here in the Arizona northland. It's the best kind of rain. Gentle but persistent, so the water doesn't just wash off the land's hard-baked surface, and very cool temperatures, so there's virtually no evaporation. The Hopi must be dancing overtime.

So, does a Buddhist build an ark?

If I did, I know where I could get two Black-crowned Night Herons. I briefly dropped into Sedona Wastewater, spurred by reports that my friends found Franklin's Gulls at a lake north of here. Well, no Franklin's but I did find the herons as a first springtime arrival. Also turned up a fine male Blue-winged Teal, the first time I've been 100% sure of seeing one in AZ. The other new bird for the "patch", as ya'll like to say, was a high-flying Osprey.

The weekend provided some really lovely birding. I was awoken early Saturday by the "referee whistle" of an Ash-throated Flycatcher, the first for my yard and the spring. Venturing around the area of Page Springs turned up first-year arrivals of MacGillivray's Warbler, Black-chinned Hummingbird, Cassin's Kingbird, Phainopepla and Inca Dove.

Sunday I decided to do some early scouting for a field trip I'm leading at Beaver Creek during the Verde Valley Birding & Nature Festival.

The Verde Valley sits south of the Mogollon Rim, which is itself basically the southern edge of the Colorado Plateau. The Verde River meanders through the valley, fed by Oak Creek, Wet Beaver Creek (I know, keep it to yourself), and West Clear Creek. All of these are marvelous for birds, with riparian corridors (sycamore, ash, cottonwood) flanked by all manner of high desert habitats (mesquite, juniper, cacti, live oak).

My jaunt along Beaver Creek kicked up new Western Kingbirds, Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, and a lovely singing Black-chinned Sparrow. The prickly pear was thick with singing Black-throated Sparrows, perhaps my favorite SW bird.

Then I moseyed off to Montezuma Well. This place is fascinating. It's a huge limestone sinkhole, with water about 300' across and who knows how deep. About a million gallons of water, at a constant temp of 76F, flows through daily.Where that comes from, I do not know either. The CO2 content is about 600 times that of normal fresh water, so no fish live there, but there are other critters and lots of birds, as well as the ruins of a once-thriving Sinagua (if you know your Spanish, that's a pretty ironic name) farming community. Believe it or not, I found my life Pacific Loon here!

But today it was a dud, bird-wise. So I drove over to the picnic area there. Ah, satisfaction. There's a wonderful grove of mature trees here, flanked by a narrow, 1,000 year-old irrigation canal through which water from the well still flows (apparently the water has a certain mineral content that forms a hard carbonate shell on the canal as though they had poured cement). The result is this enchanted riparian ribbon that is marvelously birdy.

First nice bird in the grove was an actively feeding Vermillion Flycatcher. If you come to AZ for no other reason, come for this bird. The canal corridor produced a first-spring Bell's Vireo and Hammond's Flycatcher.

Spring is Sprung

I live in Sedona, AZ, a place that USA Today declared last year to be "the most beautiful place in America." It's famous for its dramatic red rock formations, complemented by Kaibab limestone and volcanic basalt, all at around 45-6500' above sea level.

Anyway, rain continued sporadically moving through today. This is such a relief as we've been suffering through debilitating drought. And as I was sitting on the deck of the new house I moved into the other day, I was privileged to witness a full double rainbow shimmering late this afternoon in front of the dark northern stormclouds. This seemed a good omen (although I also broke my favorite coffee mug...gotta have a little yang with your yin, I suppose.)

And indeed, I had a wonderful day of birding, both at Sedona Wastewater and the Page Springs Fish Hatchery (again, in the desert, it's axiomatic that where there's water, there're birds). Probably saw about 70 species all told. New spring arrivals included Black-chinned Hummer, Cassin's Kingbird, and Phainopepla. First Western Kingbird also reported, along with Lazuli Bunting and an astonishing Ross' Goose, the first sighting I've heard of in Yavapai County since I moved here in 2000. One has been hanging around on a golf course in Flagstaff to the north, however.

Got my basic feeders up today, and made up sugar water for the hummers. 11 yard birds already but nothing to write home about. Of course I'll report on killer drop-ins.

Since this is such a global community, I hope others will take some time in their blogs to give a sense of place as well as birds sighted. I really have no good understanding of the British locations and would love a fuller picture.

Blessed Rain

Just as we were experiencing our first wildfire of the season, eating up 4300 acres on the Mogollon Rim, nature gentled and has favored us with 24 hours straight of cool, steady rain. It's still pattering on my rooftop. This kind of rain soaks deep and is total nourishment for the thirsty desert. I'm hoping for epic cactus blooms in a couple of weeks, a rare and marvelous treat.

These Pacific storms, esp. during migration, also prompt the desert birder to check significant bodies of water. This I did, visiting Sedona Wastewater briefly this afternoon. I was delighted to encounter two Bonaparte's Gulls, an adult and a first-summer, as a new state bird. Other treats were a female Common Goldeneye, my first for our county (Yavapai), an Eared Grebe, the first singing Common Yellowthroat and hundreds of swallows, Violet-green mostly but a good portion of Northern Rough-winged and a handful of Cliffs. The plant staff said there had been a White-faced Ibis earlier today.

I suspect there's much more to be discovered there, and will visit tomorrow morning and report if I find any goodies.