Birding friends are great. But birding friends who build fabulous houses in one of the country's hottest avian meccas and invite you for a long weekend indicate a karmic reward for which you are certain you are not worthy (but you damn well go for the weekend anyway, and you bring really good presents).
My friend Gary and his partner Ingrid have just traded one artsy/hippie AZ oasis (Jerome) for another (Patagonia). Patagonia (and the adjacent Sonoita Creek Preserve) is, of course, one of the many legendary birding spots in Santa Cruz County, which borders Mexico.
In one (probably unrepeatable) episode last May, I picked up Violet-crowned Hummingbird, Northern Beardless-tyrannulet, Gray Hawk, Thick-billed Kingbird, Black-bellied Whistling Duck, Common Ground-dove, Neotropic Cormorant, Black-capped Gnatcatcher, Rose-throated Becard and Varied Bunting as lifers one morning before breakfast, also picking up Yellow-billed Cuckoo as a state bird. Can you imagine?
None of these birds are present this time of year, but I had good results nonetheless. Still full from Thansgiving dinner, the first order of business on Friday morning was speeding back to San Pedro House, since I wasn't with Tom Linda and his aura of kingfisher-repellent.
At Kingfisher Pond there were a couple of birders, including two photographers at the far shore, crouching over mammoth lenses. We circled around to them and one asked, "Are you looking for the kingfisher?" "You bet," I replied. "It's just on the shore here. You should be able to see it over this rise."
Well, I must have come up too suddenly, because the near-mythic Green Kingfisher flushed from, like, six feet away and flew low to a shadowed root halfway down the pond. I still had a good view, but after a pregnant silence, I heard one of the photographers say to the other, "All that work for nothing."
One of them tried to get the bird to flush back, but merely succeeded in getting it to some low snags in the middle of the pond. I gave the remaining photographer a wide berth and settled in a spot where I had a stunning, full sunlight view of the bird, watching it dive for little fish. The scarier-looking photographer came around and I said, "I am so sorry I spoiled your shot."
He fairly spat, "Well, when there's a rare bird, you don't go Clomp! Clomp! Clomp! and 'Hey, Gary, over here!' You circle around it and go slow!"
"You're right," I said. "I really apologize."
"Uh," he said, and stalked off.
And he was right. It was about the most thoughtless, inconsiderate thing I'd done in my birding career. I was so intent on seeing the bird for me, I lost sight of the scene around me. It was a hard lesson learned, and one I won't repeat.
Gary and I slunk off, and crossed the Coronado trail below the Huachucas to bird the San Rafael Grasslands on the way home. This is an amazing spot, in which I had previously seen my life Chestnut-collared Longspur and White-tailed Kite. We sought McCown's and Lapland Longspurs (seen this fall) and Short-eared Owl (seen last year). Dipped on those, but I had the most gorgeous look I've ever had at a perched Prairie Falcon near the border hamlet of Lochiel.
Yesterday morning, we birded the areas around Patagonia Lake itself. Birders flooded the zone to tick the lingering Black-capped Gnatcatchers on their ABA list, and no wonder. But we didn't have any particular targets, though Gary half-hoped to see the reported Louisiana Waterthrush, which would have been a lifer for that California boy.
No go on the waterthrush and we were preparing to leave when Gary peeled off to answer nature's call. I dithered near the reed-lined shore and was nearly forced into an involuntary natural act myself when a huge brown bird burst out of the reedbed.
"Holy cow!" I shouted. "Gary! Bittern!"
Turns out all he heard was "Holy cow!" and he thought I was goofing around because there were, in fact, free-ranging cattle milling about.
But he joined me in the hunt, and we managed to flush the bird again from a different reedbed, a gorgeous American Bittern, a lifer (I think) for Gary and a really smokin' AZ bird for me.
On the way home this morning, I dropped into Sweetwater Wetlands and pretty easily picked up the juvie female Chestnut-sided Warbler that had been seen by a few there. Another very good AZ bird.
Can't wait to return, esp. as I'm feeling fairly feverish as I approach my 500th life bird (the kingfisher was #494)!
Watch out. The next report may be hell freezing over. It's been raining for two solid days here in Sedona and the Verde Valley, snowing like crazy up in Flagstaff, provoking rumors that the Arizona Snowbowl will open for skiing this weekend (confirmed! they got 28" of snow out of this storm) in the San Francisco Peaks. We've had more than 4" of rain this month alone, a miracle.
So, since it was intermittently pouring yesterday, the only logical move was to go birding. Actually, the first plan to head up to the Grand Canyon area to take advantage of the Pine Grosbeak irruption was aborted by mental images of us slowly succumbing to hypothermia in a battered Nissan, an ignoble end. But try as I might to ignore a report of Lawrence's Goldfinches within striking distance, greater forces compelled me to strap on my galoshes and go.
Cats I never heard of said they had seen 30+ LAGO's snarfing up Sycamore seeds from the trees', um, hanging balls. I zigzagged up to Clear Creek Campground, literally dodging tumbleweeds hurled across the highway by the gale.
Arizona rain often falls in waves, for which I was grateful. Meant I could dash about when it cleared. This I did, finding the CG thrush-rich. Cedar Waxwings, my favorite bird and one you don't see every day in these parts, worked on stripping the hackberries, while American Robins, Hermit Thrushes and Western Bluebirds haggled over the ripe junipers (odd not to see a Townsend's Solitaire among such riches). Woodpeckers aplenty (most Gila and Ladder-backed) cackled amongst the cottonwoods, but I shoved them aside in pursuit of a smokin' lifer.
Found the sycamore grove, just where the report called it, next to an ancient, and still working, irrigation canal. Goldfinches, in fact, were zipping here and there, pausing to nibble on the balls (oh, it's too easy). But I didn't see nothin' that looked like a Lawrence's. I lost confidence, though, not having seen one before, so I slopped back to the car to consult Sibley about whether they had a secret winter plumage I had missed. Nope, not really. Back I traipsed, squinting at every sycamore.
No dice. I don't think they'd be mistakable if you actually saw one, which I haven't, in like a zillion tries. However, to my more minor delight, most of the goldfinches revealed themselves to be Americans. I don't think I've seen an AMGO in AZ since a CBC in 2000, and here were a couple dozen. So the day wasn't a total loss. A nice bird for the area, an introduction to a fabulous new habitat that I'm totally going to scour this spring, and a rare chance to walk in my door and say, "Whew! I'm soaked!"
Might catch LAGO's this weekend when I spend Thanksgiving weekend at my friend's new house in Patagonia. They've also been reported in the Catalina Mountains NE of Tucson. Full report upon my return.
Here's the list of 99 species seen during Tom Linda's and my weekend exploring the Sulphur Springs Valley, Chiricahua Mountains, San Pedro River and Avra Valley Wastewater Treatment Ponds. Lifers are in bold and state birds are in italics:
1. Eared Grebe
2. Pied-billed Grebe
3. Great Blue Heron
4. Black-crowned Night Heron
5. White-faced Ibis
6. Canada Goose
7. Snow Goose
8. Ross’ Goose
9. Mallard
10. Northern Pintail
11. American Wigeon
12. Northern Shoveler
13. Green-winged Teal
14. Canvasback
15. Redhead
16. Ring-necked Duck
17. Greater Scaup
18. Bufflehead
19. Ruddy Duck
20. Hooded Merganser
21. Sharp-shinned Hawk
22. Northern Harrier
23. Red-tailed Hawk
24. Ferruginous Hawk
25. American Kestrel
26. Merlin
27. Peregrine Falcon
28. Gambel’s Quail
29. Sandhill Crane
30. Virginia Rail
31. Sora
32. American Coot
33. Killdeer
34. Western Sandpiper
35. Least Sandpiper
36. Long-billed Dowitcher
37. Wilson’s Snipe
38. Ring-billed Gull
39. Bonaparte’s Gull
40. Herring Gull
41. Mourning Dove
42. White-winged Dove
43. Inca Dove
44. Rock Dove
45. Great Horned Owl
46. Gila Woodpecker
47. Hairy Woodpecker
48. Ladder-backed Woodpecker
49. Black Phoebe
50. Say’s Phoebe
51. Vermillion Flycatcher
52. Loggerhead Shrike
53. Common Raven
54. Chihuahuan Raven
55. Horned Lark
56. Northern Rough-winged Swallow
57. Bridled Titmouse
58. Mexican Chickadee
59. Verdin
60. Bushtit
61. White-breasted Nuthatch
62. Red-breasted Nuthatch
63. Pygmy Nuthatch
64. Brown Creeper
65. Bewick’s Wren
66. Marsh Wren
67. Cactus Wren
68. Rock Wren
69. Golden-crowned Kinglet
70. Ruby-crowned Kinglet
71. Bendire’s Thrasher
72. European Starling
73. American Pipit
74. Pyrrhuloxia
75. Spotted Towhee
76. Green-tailed Towhee
77. Abert’s Towhee
78. Cassin’s Sparrow
79. Brewer’s Sparrow
80. Chipping Sparrow
81. Savannah Sparrow
82. Vesper Sparrow
83. Lark Sparrow
84. White-crowned Sparrow
85. Dark-eyed Junco
86. Yellow-eyed Junco
87. Lincoln’s Sparrow
88. Song Sparrow
89. Lark Bunting
90. Western Meadowlark
91. Eastern Meadowlark
92. Yellow-headed Blackbird
93. Red-winged Blackbird
94. Brewer’s Blackbird
95. Great-tailed Grackle
96. House Finch
97. Pine Siskin
98. Lesser Goldfinch
99. House Sparrow
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.
It's a measure of my illness that I would drive 70 miles round trip, twice, in order to add a bird to my Arizona list that used to nest in my yard in Maryland. The bird in question is an Eastern Phoebe that hung around a couple of days near a popular walking trail in Flagstaff. At least I had business in Flag the second time.
What's the farthest you've driven just to dip on a bird?
My trip to SE AZ starts Friday morning, now accompanied by friend Tom Linda. We've agreed that seeing the Sandhill Cranes is a pilgrimage to assuage our souls, which are constricted in post-election grief. The longspurs seem to be hanging, and who knows what else? Full report on Monday.
Long time since the last entry. Not too much birding, as I was working hard prior to our election and I've been catatonic for this last week. Today I read that the polar ice cap's melting even more and I'm told, "Look on the bright side. There'll be more drilling opportunities and it'll be easier to ship the crude." And then I read that our military destroyed a hospital and invaded another in Fallujah because last time they reported the number of civilian casualties. For those of you reading from overseas, I'm deeply sorry. We really tried our best. We're as shocked as you are. We're so tempted to flee, but we'll stay and fight. OK. Enough of that.
The only bright spot this week is a planned trip down to mythic southeast Arizona this coming weekend seeming to coincide with excellent birds. On sod farms east of Phoenix, folks are finding Chestnut-collared, McCown's and Lapland Longspurs. The latter two would be lifers. And at the Avra Valley Wastewater Treatment Plant west of Tucson lurks an American Bittern, a really good state bird.
But that's merely icing. In order to cope with recent events, I'm giving myself marching orders to go see the thousands of Sandhill Cranes that winter near Willcox. I've never seen the cranes and I'm dying to. But I can't look at cranes all weekend. So the plan is to bird around the Sulphur Springs Valley south of Willcox and into the western slopes of the Chiricahua Mountains. Many more lifers are likely: Chihuahuan Raven, Scaled Quail, Long-billed Curlew, Yellow-eyed Junco and Mexican Chickadee, with Hail Maries on Short-eared Owl and Mountain Plover.
I've never been to the far southeast, even though everyone raves about the Chiricahuas (I'll have to return there in season for Buff-bellied Flycatcher and Short-tailed Hawk). Full report when I return.