Butlers Birds and Things

Hammond's Flycatcher

2012-02-24T06:20:00.001-07:00

This lovely bird makes for a very challenging identification. The Hammond's and the Dusky Flycatcher are nearly indistinguishable apart from their breeding range and their call. When I saw this bird near Patagonia Lake where the species' range overlaps, it was in February, and the bird was silent...

Luckily it was also seen by some birders far more expert than I. After a few days of review they decided it was not a Dusky Flycatcher, as first thought, but was in fact a Hammond's. For my two cents, the Hammond's do seem to be a bit more yellow than the Duskies, but that's something I can only tell from reviewing lots of photographs, not from field-obersvations alone.

The soft grays and yellows make for a beautiful and soft composition, one that seems unique to the Empidonax flycatchers (Warblers and Kingbirds being a stronger yellow). This Hammond's was another one of my favorite sightings on the BiF Tucson trip this February.

Bewick's Wren

2012-02-23T06:00:00.003-07:00

The Bewick's Wren is a rather small brown bird with a fondness for underbrush and scrubby foliage. Given these physical aspects of the bird, one might not expect much in way of personality. However, their incessant calling and singing and active bouncing is as bold as the bird's strong white eyestripe.

They flit about their business, gleaning insects and other little edibles. They're industrious little birds, and they fill the air with their constant chatter, no doubt complimenting and criticizing their fellow birds with equal energy.

They may not be an aesthetic feast for the eye, at least compared to some of the finches, nuthatches, and seedeaters with which they sometimes keep company, but they're lots of fun. Like all birds they manifest a certain beauty in their precise form and functioning as a species. One may not look at the Bewick's Wren and think, "Wow what a stunner!"But there is something undeniably beautiful about watching the camouflaged Wren running and bobbing about, using its tail to keep balance while it forages for food with its decurved beak. That's something everyone can appreciate.

Broad-Billed Hummingbird

2012-02-22T06:00:00.000-07:00

It's true. They do have exceptionally broad bills for a Hummingbird. It's not the most striking feature in my opinion, but to be fair I'm not really sure what is. The bird's shimmering beauty is a composite of the iridescent green, blue throat, and prominent red beak.

This specimen was another jewel in the treasure chest that is southeastern Arizona birding.

The Rufous-Capped Warbler

2012-02-21T10:13:00.001-07:00

There have been persistent reports of a group of Rufous-Capped Warblers in the Florida Canyon in the Santa Rita Mountains since December of 2011. This unusual visitor from Mexico turns up every few years, but this year they seem to be pretty established in the canyon. They were one of the prime targets of the BiF road trip to southeastern Arizona, and were also among the first and most beautiful birds we saw.

They began their morning foraging with first light. While they did not seem to mind our presence at all. they didn't stay put for very long. Their flighty behavior combined with the dim lighting to make photography tricky, but it did make for a great sighting.

I haven't seen that many Warblers yet, but I imagine that when I die at the ripe old age of 165, having seen every bird in the world, these Rufous-Capped Warblers will still be among the most visually captivating birds I've observed.

Birding in Southeast AZ

2012-02-19T19:33:00.005-07:00

I went down to Tucson on Friday evening for some marathon birding with Robert Mortensen, Jeremy Medina, and Geniece Baer. We saw a total of 100 species and I acquired 16 new birds for my Life List. It was one of the single most productive and enjoyable 24-hours periods of birding I've ever experienced, and will definitely be one of the highlights in my birding career for years to come.

Here, avid birders Jeremy, Geniece, and Robert stand atop a bench identifying Cormorants in the lake below.

As we toured some of the southeastern Arizona hotspots we saw lots of old species, new species, common species, rare species, species that can be found throughout North America, and species that are endemic to this little corner of the state. In short, it was a great trip. I'll try to give a good overview here, and then fill in with more specific and detailed posts through this next week.

Saturday was a full day of birding, and we stayed glued to our binoculars from sun-up to sun-down. It was still dark as we headed towards Florida Canyon, hoping to see the Rufous-Capped Warblers.
We started our hike at dawn, and even with the morning chill it did not take very long for the birds to make their presence known. We heard Rock Wrens, Spotted Towhees, and Kinglets as we climbed up the little gorge. A few Canyon Wrens climbed out to greet the rising sun as we started to follow the little stream running down Florida Canyon, reportedly the preferred habitat of the Warblers.

We were about a 1/4 mile up from the creek dam when we heard warbler activity. The first sightings proved to be Ruby-Crowned Kinglets, and next came a single Olive Warbler. The Rufous-Capped Warblers came out from the scrub oaks soon after and began foraging along the stream, oblivious to our presence.

At one point there were three of the little birds very close to our group. Though being in the dimly lit canyon made photography tricky, it was still a clear-as-day sighting. It was a wonderful experience that alone would have made the Tucson trip worthwhile.

Our primary goal being achieved and with many more places still to go, we began our swift descent back to the car, meeting Acorn Woodpeckers, Cardinals, Towhees and Rick Taylor (!), author of Birds of Southeastern Arizona, along the way.

The Rio Rico ponds, a nice riparian habitat on the way to Patagonia Lake, was our next destination. The ponds were just off of the roadside, and provided immediate sightings of Cinnamon Teal, Pied-Billed Grebes, and Mexican Mallards. Along the woody margins of the water we saw Vermillion Flycatchers, Abert's Towhees and several more Cardinals, and there were Mountain Bluebirds in the adjacent field.

While pursuing some Song Sparrows and Lincoln's Sparrows near the swampy perimeter, I also stumbled upon this solitary Hermit Thrush, a lovely new bird that I probably should have seen long before now. The dense vegetation made auto-focussing impossible and I had to try my hand at manual. (I know, I have a hard life).

We progressed to Lake Pena Blanca, a very quiet and peaceful canyon lake that provides the perfect sort of habitat for the more diminutive birds, such as the elusive Least Grebe, the rarest lifer of the day.

The little lake was also popular with Ruddy Ducks and Ring-Necked Ducks. We heard House Wrens and Bewick's Wrens calling along the shore, and found a little group of Rufous-Capped Sparrows near the exit. Rufous-Capped Sparrows, Rufous-Winged Sparrows, and Rufous-Capped Warblers made for a very Rufousy day.

The next stop was Patagonia Lake, one of the most well-known and fruitful birding spots around Tucson. Although we dipped on the reported Elegant Trogon and Black-Capped Gnatcatcher (so did everyone else we talked to), it was indeed a fantastic birding area, and we continued racking up the life birds.

We saw plenty of Green-Winged Teal, Double-Crested Cormorants, and a few Bufflehead out on the lake, as well as this single female Blue-Winged Teal trying to blend into the reeds. She was doing pretty well Except for her rather conspicuous patch of blue.

Trails move along the lake shore for a 1/2 mile or so before entering the dense oak and coniferous woodlands where the birding action really takes off. They were teeming with Bridled Titmice, Ladder-Backed Woodpeckers, and Common Ground Doves. It was also a three Flycatcher day with the Gray, the Ash-Throated, and the Hammonds all giving us great looks.

All three of the Flycatchers were new birds for me, and the Hammonds provided a very nice and open pose, a rare courtesy from these busy woodlands birds.

One of the last and most satisfying sightings at Patagonia was a pair of roosting Great-Horned Owls. They can be seen regularly in Phoenix, and we had already driven by one in the early morning. But seeing them in these scrubby woods really lends an ancient and serene quality both to the birds and to their forest.

The last stop of the day was the internationally known Paton House in Patagonia. For decades, Wally and Marion Patton supplied scores of seed and hummingbird feeders at their residence. It is one of the few places in North America where Violet-Crowned Hummingbirds are consistently seen, and it is also a harbor to many other migrating and seasonal birds, often providing the first and last glimpses of species as they travel between the U.S. and Mexico. The Patons have passed away, but the property is still maintained as a small birding Mecca.

True to form, the house was bursting with birds. We saw Finches, Nuthatches, Sparrows, Cardinals, Pyrrhuloxia, Gila Woodpeckers, Wrens, Doves, Quail, Lazuli Bunting (another first) and, of course, some Hummingbirds. The Violet-Crowned made only a brief appearance, while this jaw-droppingly beautiful Broad-Billed Hummingbird sat for two whole minutes, which we all know in hummingbird-time is about thirty-seven years.

I wonder who would look at this bird and first think, "Wow! Check out the broad bill on that little guy!" I know more goes into a name than just the initial observation, but it's fun to think about. As the sun set on this wonderful day of birding, the evening light made for some color-saturated Cardinals, and some mournful Pyrrhuloxias.

The unique geography of Tucson draws in the birds, and the birds draw in the people. I had a great time with Robert, Jeremy, and Geniece. We were especially lucky to have Jeremy share with us his knowledge of the area and the birds. I hope to be drawn back very soon.

Birding Synchronicity

2012-02-17T21:39:00.003-07:00

It strikes again! You can go for years without seeing a bird, or never see it at all. Then, as the British say, you finally break your duck (an awkward expression for birders, to be sure) and the sightings come left and right. It was just a few days ago that I was perusing through some old blurry photos and I realized I had a new bird on my hands, the Vesper Sparrow. This weekend I'm on a trip down to some of the fantastic Tucson birding hotspots with BiF Editor Robert Mortensen and BiF Author Jeremy Medina, and one of the first birds Robert and I saw on the drive down was, of course, the Vesper Sparrow!

You can find Sparrows in a variety of habitats, and that's part of their appeal. But I think one of my favorite things about the Sparrows is how they can really enliven and transform a landscape. We can be observing a simple arid dirt lot on the side of the road, much like this one. All of the sudden we notice movement, dare we say a little bit of color. It's not a barren strip of land after all. There are intricately patterned and determined wee birds flitting all over. The Sparrows bring liveliness to these desolate places, and where there is life there is beauty.

This was only the beginning of some excellent birding Robert and I fit in on the way down to Tucson. Soon after the Vesper Sparrows we found Chipping Sparrows, Western Meadowlarks, and the first Lifer of the trip, a flock of Lark Buntings!

We stopped around the Picacho Peak area to scan for some Crested Caracaras. While these regal buzzards were nowhere to be found, the Red-Tailed Hawks and Loggerhead Shrikes were out in force. We also came across Western Bluebirds, Yellow-Rumped Warblers, and some lovely Lark Sparrows.

But best of all, the best birding is yet to come.

Just Another Day After The Office

2012-02-16T09:33:00.000-07:00

I had some time after work to go birding by the McCormick Ponds near Scottsdale. Although the bird populations have skyrocketed since I visited in the fall, there was a certain dearth of color on display. Gadwalls, Cormorants, Mallards, Coots, and Great Egrets were the birds of the day, and the green headed Mallards, no doubt glad to be free of migratory duck competition, felt like undisputed prom queens (kings?). The Vermillion Flycatchers, which had been consistently visible last year, were no where to be found, so I set out to practice my in-flight photography.

We're reading Peter Pan, among other books, in my 4th grade class right now. In the story, the children delightedly discover that with a happy little thought and some pixie dust, they can fly. Birds have it even easier. They can fly happily, or in a state of fear, hunger, mindless habit, etc. And they don't need any contaminating pixie dust like those moths and butterflies either. If only a happy thought and a spritz of dust were enough to generate nice in-flight photography...
It's a work in progress, I guess what they call a labor of love.

The Mallards were reveling in the ponds, probably content in knowing that they were the most beautiful birds to be seen, an unusual if somewhat unfair recognition for them.

Although Gadwalls are still very pretty and intricately plumed ducks, it says something about their style that the black beak is perhaps their most striking feature. Why is it that the Mandarins and Wood Ducks have developed such extensive plumage to attract a mate, and yet the Gadwalls remain in their stately grays and browns?

I'm really bad with the shorebirds, but I believe this is a non-breeding Spotted Sandpiper. He didn't look too sure of himself either as he skulked along the water's edge. It's kinda far away but I like his pose here and the concentric water ripples behind him.

Even the little peeps get moving pretty quickly, and I didn't quite get the right focus before he was gone.

It was kind of a brown bird day, but that's just as well. It was some good photo practice and got me geared up for this weekend's trip down to southeast Arizona, where the birds and colors abound.

Vesper Sparrow

2012-02-16T01:00:00.000-07:00

These are some older photos, taken back in late July of 2011. At the time, I thought I was observing some adolescent Sparrow something or others. Since the photos were kind of blurry I largely ignored them and moved on. Upon review though, I think I'm looking at some Vesper Sparrows, which I've never recorded before! This is better than finding 5 dollars in the back pocket of those pants you haven't worn for 2 years...

Wednesdays with Audubon, Chapter 11

2012-02-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

We left a soggy and stagnant Audubon stuck for 5 days without a favorable wind as he travelled through the Labrador Islands. I can only imagine the excruciating frustration of heading out on an epic, expensive trip of Summer birding, and having to spend 5 days inside a cramped boat. Salvation came the morning of June 29th and they set off towards American Harbor (I'm not really sure what or where that is).

Along the way they passed many small and rocky islands, almost all of which were dominated by a single nesting species, be it the Common Puffin, Razorbilled Auk, or Cormorants. They travelled some 50 miles in choppy seas before dropping anchor. Tired of his forced drawing for nearly the last week (forced in the sense that there was nothing else to do), Audubon was quickly off the boat and exploring this new, more diminutive portion of the Labrador coastline. He collected a few specimens, including the "Shore Lark (Horned Lark) and spent the afternoon pondering the identity of a dead, starved, and semi-frozen "snowbird" that he had never seen nor heard of before.

They spent the next few days mostly collecting the eggs of the Common Cormorant and American Ring Plover that nested near the shore. I wonder at times why they wanted so many eggs. What does one do with several hundred dozen cormorant eggs, other than drink eggnog while eating omelets topped with scrambled eggs and a small side of poached eggs.

Anyway, Audubon's painting of the Cormorants is beautiful.

On July 2nd Audubon took several men to begin a more thorough exploration of Labrador, which captivated Audubon with it's peculiar and specialized landscape: "The country, so wild and grand, is of itself enough to interest any one in its wonderful dreariness. Its mossy, gray-clother rocks, heaped and thrown together as if by chance, in the most fantastical groups imaginable, huge masses hanging on minor ones as if about to roll themselves down from their double-looking situation into the depths of the sea beneath. Bays without end dot the landscape, sprinkled with rocky islands where in every fissure some bird or another retreats to secure its brood."

The focus for July 4th and 5th was on the Great Northern Diver and Red-Necked Diver with Audubon acquiring his first specimens of these Loons as well as some unexpected Ptarmigan, which one of the more impertinent sailors tried to sneakily eat in the night, for which he was soundly beaten in the morning.

On July 5th Audubon also made an interesting observation about the breeding and molting birds up in Labrador: "The Scoter Ducks, of which I have seen many this day, were partially molted, and could fly only a short distance, and must be either barren or the young bachelors, as I find parents in full plumage, convincing me that these former molt earlier than the breeding Ducks. I have observed this strange fact so often now that I shall say no more about it; I have found it in nearly all the species of the birds here. I do not know of any writer on the history of birds having observed this curious fact before. I have now my hands full of work, and go to bed delighted..."

I wonder. Is this really the case with Scoters and other breeding waterfowl? Do the young or non-mating birds molt at a different time than the parent birds? Interesting stuff either way.

Recharging in Glendale

2012-02-12T15:52:00.002-07:00

Pops and I headed down to the Glendale Recharge Ponds today, with no particular aims or goals beyond having a nice morning full of birds (one of the best sorts of mornings). The ponds have been very low the last few times I visited, but today they were quite full and teaming with waterfowl.

Although the ducks were far out on the ponds and very shy, there was an excellent array of species. We saw Wigeons, all three Teal, Shovelers, Ring-Necks, Pintails, Eared Grebes, and my first Buffleheads. Some Canada Geese stopped by later in the morning, and they had several Snow Geese tagging along, or so we thought.

The ponds are all enclosed by canals and spillways, and it was along some adjacent telephone wires that my first photographic quarry made its appearance. This Belted Kingfisher was sitting rather contentedly with a crawfish in his beak. He seemed determined not to try and swallow it until after we had gone. Since we were determined to wait and see, he eventually took off in search of a more private dining area.

There were many waders along the pond shorelines. The Greater Yellowlegs and Least Sandpipers were the most abundant, but there were also Black-Necked Stilts, Egrets, Dowitchers, and a few Great Blue Herons. We also stumbled across a homicide scene of sorts, where scattered feathers of increasing size and blueness led us to some grisly remains.

We set up our police tape and began to investigate, wondering if this was the same perpetrator as in the infamous Wellington Massacre in Florida last year (in fact, some of the similarities, like seeing a Kingfisher just before, were uncanny!). Coyote tracks led down the muddy shoreline, and we followed until the identity of the victim was certain.

But it was not an afternoon to be dominated by the macabre. The Canada Geese and Snow Geese had drifted into camera range, so we took the rare opportunity to better examine the Glendale waterfowl. Good thing too, for that group of Snow Geese had among them two Ross's Geese, another new bird for the Butler team!

The Canada Geese tried their best to shield their conspicuous companions, but when two of the white geese swam side by side they made for a very nice, if still distant, comparison.

Although its plumage is nearly indistinguishable from the Snow Goose, the Ross's Goose is noticeably smaller and lacks the black lips (for lack of the proper word) along the beak. I doubt I could pick a Ross's out of a whole flock of Snow Geese, so it was very fortunate to have such a nice control group, as it were.

With the sun rising high and winter still refusing to happen, Pops and I returned to the car and headed back into Phoenix proper, stopping by Grenada Park to see if the Redhead drake was still around.

He was indeed, and what was a new bird for me on Wednesday became a new bird for Pops on Saturday. It's been a wonderful winter for ducks, and this is definitely one of the most beautiful I've seen so far.

Another first for Grenada Park was this female Lesser Scaup. As I've mentioned before, the Lesser Scaup are not nearly as common in Phoenix as many other migrants, and she brought the total number of different waterfowl species at Grenada to seven--pretty good for a pond that's about the size of a large swimming pool.

Some frolicking, off-screen Mallards provided the fun little splash in this picture, and if you enlarge the image you can see the Scaup has her nictating membrane shielding her eyes.

Redhead

2012-02-09T17:00:00.003-07:00

There are many birds with confusing or even misleading names. The Redhead is not one of them. This mighty handsome duck was one of the few holdouts I had still not seen this winter, and was one of the ducks I have been wanting to see the most. It seems to have a similar body and beak coloration to the Ring-Necked Duck and Lesser Scaup, and but it's sighted less frequently than its other diving-duck relatives.

There were several reports of Redheads throughout Phoenix these last couple months, and yet I continued to strike out in my search for this handsome bird. The most recent report mentioned a solitary duck at the Kiwanis Park in Tempe, AZ. I stopped by after work and could not find the fowl, which made me 0 for 3 in my specific attempts at a Redhead this year.

I took a detour to Grenada Park after work on Wednesday, and for some reason that I can't quite explain, I was feeling lucky. Maybe it was some residual fillip from the Phainopepla sightings last weekend. It may have been the sense that Redheads were somewhere in the area, and since I hadn't visited Grenada in a while they might've creeped in. Whatever the reason, I felt good about my prospects, and sure enough there was this sleepy male floating all by his lonesome.

This is the first Redhead I've seen and, needless to say, the only one that I've seen or heard of at Grenada Park. In fact, I've never seen other migrants but Ring-Necks and Wigeons (the two most common) at the Park, so this was a great bit of fortune.

As I sat down to get on a better level with the duck, it actually perked up and started to head over my way--a probable indicator that he has been at Grenada long enough to learn about people coming by and feeding the birds.

I had to disappoint Mr. Redhead in that regard, but he did not disappoint me (which is not to say that I ate him)! They're such striking birds in all of the pictures and field guides. Even with the cloudy skies and murky pond water, the definition and color on the Redhead were outstanding.

The Redhead is stunning, especially with the vivid orange eye. I'd never before noticed the black detail on the beak. There's a nice outline at the base of the bill, and a curious black stripe though the nostrils. I'll definitely have to try back for some more time with this beautiful bird.

**Here are some more recent photos, taken on 02/11/2012

Wednesdays with Audubon, Chapter 10

2012-02-08T19:29:00.001-07:00

John James Audubon spent all of June 18th aboard the boat, arranging and drawing his specimens as best he could while observing many different gulls from the boat. It is interesting to read that, for a while, he continued to misidentify the Herring Gulls as immature Greater Black-Backed. Audubon though to himself, "knowing the tyrannical disposition of the L. marinus (Black-Backed), I am sure they would not suffer a species almost as powerful as themselves in their immediate neighborhood. They fly together, but the white ones do not alight on the rocks where the marinus has its nest."
Even the great ones have trouble with Gull identification!

Audubon continued to catch up on his drawings of Guillemots and Gulls throughout the next few days, even as the weather improved such that they were getting some 18 hours of sunlight each day at 55 degrees fahrenheit (perfect!). His men continued to explore the surrounding rocky islands, having little luck collecting specimens of the Eider and Terns that were breeding, but nonetheless collecting many varieties of eggs, some of which Audubon notes as being delicious, and some as not.

It's interesting to juxtapose Audubon's naturalist intentions with his very direct and fatal approach to collecting his specimens. Of course back then there were few endangered species, and preserving some of these wild populations was of little concern to either Audubon or the general public. Despite his apparent callousness, Audubon was very aware of the delicate balance. With a clear disdain, he comments on some evidence he and his men found of "egging" expeditions: "The eggers (people who would take and sell large quantities of the eggs in the southern towns) confiscate or destroy all of the eggs that are sat upon, to force the birds to lay again, and by robbing them regularly, they lay till nature is exhausted, and few young are raised. In less than half a century these wonderful nurseries will be entirely destroyed, unless some kind government will interfere to stop the destruction."

For the next five days Audubon and his men sat at harbor rather despondently, waiting for a favorable wind to carry them on to new adventures. They had naught but a few Gulls and the eternally noisy seals for company, who seemed to relish and taunt the sailors' immobility. Audubon did meet with some luck on the shore, where he shot and collected his first Canada Jays (Gray Jay) and Ruby-Crowned Kinglets for the year.

Hopefully when we return to JJ Audubon next week, he will finally receive that fortunate wind, and keep the birds coming.

The 2011 Butler Bird of the Year

2012-02-08T04:00:00.002-07:00

Well it took about a month and a half to decide, but the jury has finally reached a verdict on the best Butler Bird of the Year (also know as the B-BOY award, only slightly less famous than the Oscars). With close competition from Phainopeplas, a Townsends Warbler, and an inner city Lewis's Woodpecker, the award goes to...the Elf Owl!

This was certainly the most surprising sighting of the year, both because of the relatively uncommon and inconspicuous nature of the bird. I'm never really expecting to see Owls, which maybe explains why this and the Great Horned are the only two I've ever seen in the wild.

These tiny birds were hanging out at the Desert Botanical Gardens in September, and provided one of the best all-round birding experiences of my 2011 birding year. I'm definitely hoping to get some more owls this year, but I don't know if any of them will match this super fun sighting. Here's hoping!

See the full Elf Owl adventure recorded here

Finding Some Pep at the Rio Verde

2012-02-05T04:00:00.003-07:00

This morning I went out to the Box Bar wildlife-and-walkin'-around area at the Rio Verde, a nice little river running down the east side of Phoenix. The drive out through Pima was pretty nice too. It's that time of year when the rustic desert foliage is also joined by the green grass and wildflowers to create a very impressive collage of color. I met up with the family near the river, and we enjoyed each other's company as well as a quiet and cool mid-morning of birding.

We saw some Western Bluebirds, plenty of Yellow-Rumped Warblers, plenty of Black Phoebes, some Herons, some Red-Tails, and a possible pair of Hooded Mergansers (which took off immediately).

The main goal was to see a Phainopepla, a peculiar dark species of flycatcher that prefers the arid Southwest and can be found in pockets throughout the southern half of Arizona. In rather unceremonious fashion, my first sighting came off of a telephone wire while I was still several miles from the hiking area. As I got nearer to the Rio Verde turn-off the sightings began to increase, and eventually I pulled over and began some highway-side photography because the desert just seemed to be bursting with Phainopepla activity, and you've gotta take what you can get. It was awesome!

This was the fourth Phainopepla I saw, and the first I was able to photograph. They're in their own group of silky flycatchers (I suspect they have some tropical cousins that also share the group), which must in part refer to their glossy shine and elongated anatomy. I love how slap-dash the crests are on these birds. It's clearly a crest, but it looks like it's losing the war with bed-head.

It was difficult to catch the male's ruby-red eye at times, but boy when it got some sun that thing could really radiate!

While I was calling and whistling to this male (for no good reason really, it's just fun to imitate), this lovely female came by to investigate. It was probably not my calling that brought her in... in fact I'm sure it wasn't. What is apparent from this first picture is that she felt nature calling, and she discretely deposited her morning meal before flying over to her beaux.

I was geeking out pretty badly at this point, you know with the whole talking to yourself and exclaiming "Woah! No Way!" inhaling only to realize you haven't taken a breath for like the last 3 minutes. It was only a half-hope to see them in the first place, and now I had multiple Phainopeplas within camera-shot. With her solid grey, white wingbars, and striking eye, the female is a visual feast just as well as the male.

That being said, some angles flatter the birds more than others. From straight on the Phainopepla crest gives the bird a very rectangular head shape, one that reminded me a little bit of Frankenstein's monster.

After a little bit of flirting and playing hard-to-get, the female joined the obsidian male in his tree, where he continued to serenade and impress her with his silky-smooth moves.

I like to think that I brought them together. In all likelihood though, my presence was keeping them apart. I left them to their romance, myself feeling very satisfied and simply in awe. As I continued the drive down to Box Bar I saw some 7 or 8 more Peplas living it up in the morning sun. What a great way to start the birding day!

Some Power Birding

2012-02-03T17:34:00.000-07:00

I snuck in a quick bit of birding this evening after work. I have been trying to relocate a Common Yellowthroat I saw a while back (a current photographic nemesis) at the Tres Rios preserve in south-central Phoenix. While I was again unsuccessful in that regard, it was a nice walk around with plenty of other fun and common birds.

This Great Blue Heron was hanging out on the water's edge in those nasty red vine things. I don't know what they are, and I'm sure they're a biologically impressive species, but they remind me of the vein-like things that the aliens use to digest the earth in War of the Worlds. The Heron was cool though; he didn't seem to mind. By the way, should we call a female Great Blue a Heroine?

I've been trying to improve my in-flight photography (when the bird is in flight, not myself). Slowly but surely I'm learning things about better settings and when/how to anticipate take-offs. It's a good challenge, and the big lumbering herons make pretty easy subjects for beginners such as myself.

I still haven't glimpsed that ruby crown, but otherwise the Kinglets have been great this year. They're hanging out around Phoenix in large numbers and with very little shyness. Now, taking their picture without obstructing twigs is another matter entirely.

The Verdin is one of the signature species of the arid southwest. Like the Kinglets, they're pretty personable and pretty good-looking. I'm been having warbler envy this winter, but the Kinglets and Verdins and Yellow-Rumps are doing their industrious best to keep me satisfied. Thanks guys.

Flycatcher or Phoebe

2012-02-02T20:04:00.000-07:00

I know, a Phoebe is a Flycatcher, but I've always been a sucker for alliteration.
Anyway, these two photos were taken in late summer at the McCormick ponds in east Phoenix. There were a pair of Vermillion Flycatchers, one male and one immature, flying among the palo verde trees looking for bugs. They mingled with Yellow-Rumped Warblers, a Black Phoebe, and a Say's Phoebe. None of them actually seemed to be enjoying each other's company, but that could've just been the competition for those yummy gnats.

It was only reviewing these pictures later on that I noticed how oddly similar an adult Say's Phoebe is to a juvenile Vermillion Flycatcher. Can you tell which is which?

Snow Goose

2012-02-02T05:00:00.003-07:00

The Snow Goose is a medium sized white and black goose that is most well known for its massive breeding populations up North. They migrate south for the winter, and can often be found in huge congregations. They're casual visitors to Arizona, which is largely out of their normal range, but there's always a chance you'll see a couple mingling wherever else geese are found. There was a vagrant pair out in the middle of the Gilbert Water Ranch ponds this last Saturday.

These are the first Snow Geese I've seen in the state, and the first I've had an opportunity to photograph. With the noon-time sun beating down on these alabaster birds, I decided to try a new route in photography. I don't normally use any sort of image manipulation, other than cropping, when I process photos. But since I couldn't get rid of the sun's white-washing effect, which almost makes the Geese glow purple in pictures, I just went black and white.

Black and white photography is most often used to make classy portrait shots. It is also used by artsy kids in tight jeans who take pictures of dilapidated lawn chairs and rusty bathtubs to make themselves look brooding and contemplative. I'm not crazy about the result here (and not just because it's blurry), but at least the species is discernible, and not engulfed in a purple hue, which is even less natural.

*I found and photographed these Snow Geese and Ross's Geese (2 and 2) several weeks later in Glendale.

Liminal Birds

2012-01-31T05:00:00.002-07:00

Liminal is a nifty word that describes the border between two different things, be they cultures or environments. The liminal space is where elements of both overlap and interact, sometimes harmonizing and sometimes coming into conflict.

Many birds seem to prefer the liminal spaces of nature. I certainly gravitate towards these areas as a birdwatcher, probably because it's easier to see and target places that have lots of distinction. It's much harder to make oneself survey a homogenous landscape than one with many different features on which you can easily focus. Observe the liminal spaces at the Gilbert Water Ranch, those areas where land meets water, where the chaparral meets the trees, and these are some of the species you'll likely find:

The Northern Shovelers are not very good divers, but they do like to feed off of the bottom of ponds. As such, they're limited to the shallow areas where they can go bottoms-up. Locating Shovelers in a pond is a good way to guess at the depth of the surrounding water.

The Black-Necked Stilt is not a swimmer, but it likes to feed in the mucky muck just like the Shoveler. Consequently, it too is destined for life in a liminal space.

The Common Gallinule (formerly known as Moorhen) makes its nest in the reeds and bullrushes around the water, and is seldom seen very far away from its precious cover. I'm not really sure what they eat, but if if it's true that you are what you eat, then looking at the beak I'd say they eat candy-corn.

The water's edge draws all manner of other birds, including warblers, wrens, waterfowl, herons, kingfishers, and shorebirds ad infinitum. There are also many birds that prefer the dryer liminal spaces. The Sparrows and Finches in Arizona like to move between the higher trees, which provide more cover, and the seedy grasses that provide better but lower foraging. I found my first ever Lawrence's Goldfinches moving between the trees and grasses at the Water Ranch, and they were also accompanied by lots of Brewer's Sparrows.

My fondness for these margins sometimes inhibits my birding. I often spend too much time looking at these areas, which can attract many different species of birds, and miss the less conspicuous specialists who stay in a specific environment. But hey, whether you bird in the margins, or immerse yourself in one specific environment, it's all good. Birding is fun.

Inca Bink a Bottle of Ink

2012-01-30T05:00:00.035-07:00

With a relatively small range (for a dove) that does not much exceed the southern parts of Arizona, California, New Mexico, and Texas, the Inca Dove has much less of an empire than its now-extinct namesake. However, they did outlast the Incas, and they have no scarcity of competition from larger doves or grackles either.

Their feathers have a scaled look to them that encompasses their entire body, unlike other semi-scaled birds such as the California Quail. Their soft call and mild manners makes them a pleasant addition to the typical batch of Southwestern birds one might see making a ruckus about the feeders, and they're certainly my favorite dove.

I like their eyes. Unlike other, larger doves who seem to always have that vacant stare, the Inca Dove eyes seem to have a slight glimmer of kindness and gentleness behind them. With their gray dimpled plumage and endearing politeness, these are grandma birds if there is such a thing.

I found this nice pair at the Gilbert Water Ranch on Saturday. They were being very cozy-cuddly and didn't seem to mind the interlopers as they scratched and stretched away the remnants of their afternoon nap.

Lemme Teal You Something Buddy!

2012-01-28T23:06:00.003-07:00

I've had a wonderful time finding and photographing the various wintering waterfowl here in Arizona. The Shovelers, Pintails, Ring-Necks, and Scaups are all beautiful and pretty easy to access in the city. The Teal group has been much more challenging. I've not seen any Blue-Winged Teal this winter, and the Greenwing-Teal like to stay far out in the Gilbert Water Ranch Ponds, as do their much less numerous Cinnamon cousins.

I spent some time trying to improve my Teal cache this Saturday, and found them to be both entertaining and tricky subjects. This first Teal was by far the most proximal of all the Teal I photographed. However, his exposure came with a strong condition; he wasn't exposed. By this I mean the stubborn duck kept his beak and part of his face underwater with more determination than a squirrel trying to infiltrate a bird feeder.

He wasn't sitting still either. He would actually scoot along the shallow water, pacing back and forth like an adorable little vacuum sucking up all the lovely bits of filth he could.

At 30 to 35 yards, this is the closest I've managed to get to a Cinnamon Teal. I don't know much about it, but of all the wintering waterfowl that are not actually rare visitors, the Cinnamons seem to have the most limited range. They're the only duck I've seen exclusively at the Water Ranch (though the Ranch is the only place that brings all the ducks together so splendidly), which means I can't count on finding them at the other smaller urban ponds for a close up. More patience is required.

Here's another Green-Winged Teal being all tealy. Maria observed that they combine the facial markings and colors of both Pintails and Wigeons. I agree, and in fact there's a lot in their torso that resembles the Pintail as well. They're very pretty ducks. It seems to have been an unusually warm and short winter all around the country. It's not over yet, but many of the birds here in the valley seem to be prematurely starting their breeding and nesting. I hope for a little more time with the Teal before they return to the northern climes.

Mock-YEAH Ing-YEAH

2012-01-26T17:39:00.002-07:00

Bird-Yeah. This guy was hanging outside my classroom window after school. I like the afternoon light, even if it's the early morning light that is ideal. There's quite a lot of brown in this picture.

There's not enough of the eye visible, but I like all of the texture in the shot. It was a nice concatenation of lighting and placement. This lower photo of another mimid, the Catbird, was taken at about the same time of day in Pennsylvania (in late spring). There's a pretty noticeable difference in the color of evening light along the United States.

Wednesdays with Audubon, Chapter 9

2012-01-25T02:00:00.001-07:00

As a matter of manners and thanks, Audubon and his men conducted some business on Magdalene island before departing. They bought over-priced, low quality animals skins (in Audubon's developed opinion), a few other provisions, and proceeded along the archipelago about 18 miles in search of nesting Mergansers and Geese. Along the way they stopped to collect Black Guillemot eggs, which turned out to be quite an undertaking. The birds lay their eggs on bare coastal/cliff rock, just above the high-water mark, and are very staunch defenders of their nurseries. It's a fun image, these heavy-laden sailors slipping and sprawling on the wet and poo-plastered rocks as the cold waves break and spray with the protesting birds.

Before they reached the waterfowl lakes on the eastern extremity of the Magdalene Archipelago, the Audubon crew caught a very favorable wind towards Labrador Island, and they changed course without much debate. Their new heading took them into line with the many trails of Gannets all heading to some unseen breeding ground. Some of them hung noticeably low in the air, no doubt gorged with fishy bits for their waiting mates and young. The birds were heading towards a large, snowy monolith that rose out of the churning water. As the men drew closer, Audubon realized with great elation that it was not snow at all which covered the rock, but Gannets. Thousands and thousands of Gannets:

"I rubbed my eyes, took my spy-glass, and in an instant the strangest picture stood before me. They were birds we saw--a mass of birds such a size as yet I never before cast my eyes on. The whole of my party stood astounded and amazed, and all came to the conclusion that such a sight was of itself sufficient to invite any one to come across the Gulf to view it as this season."

To Audubon's dismay, they were unable to bring the ship/row-boats in close enough to land on Gannet Rock. After a few dangerous and futile attempts, the mournful crew pressed on. Many of the men spent the next few days in a state of poor health, no doubt brought on by their fool-hardy pursuit of the Gannet roost in cold and stormy conditions. They sailed on through the rain and reached the island of Anticosti on June 15th. They spent the 16th recovering and fishing for cod, and at 5 am on June 17th they first sighted the shores of Labrador.

Thousands of Razor-Billed Auks and Velvet Ducks (Velvet Scoter) escorted them in towards the island, and they soon found a harbor where several Hudson Bay Company fishing boats were moored. After saying hello to a few friends, they continued on to an American harbor. When they dropped anchor around latitude 50, it was farther north that Audubon had ever been before. Despite this auspicious beginning, the initial explorations were somewhat disappointing. The island was covered in a thick, spongy moss that spread over any and all exposed earth. The trees were haggard and wiry, presenting only a single Pigeon Hawk as game for the men.

They continued to sail around the island and made anchor again at noon, where Audubon gathered specimens of Eider Ducks, and began to catch up on his neglected drawings, before his previously gathered specimens started to spoil. It has been a trip of mostly pelagic sightings so far. I'm sure that Audubon and his crew were eager to spend some time ashore, and so am I.

Warbler Envy at Rio Salado

2012-01-22T15:48:00.000-07:00

I've had warbler envy lately. The definite focus in Arizona is the wintering waterfowl, but now I find myself yearning for those flighty tweety birds too. One can always count on the Orange-Crowned and Yellow-Rumped Warblers in Phoenix in the winter, but to diversify one's sightings beyond there requires some work.

I had stopped off at the Glendale Recharge ponds on Saturday in the vain hope of seeing a reported pair of American Redstarts. While I did have a nice time looking and conversing with other birders there, we all struck out on the birds themselves.

Next I decided to check out the Rio Salado Audubon center that's in south-central Phoenix. I had visited this center in the summer and seen some Wilson's Warblers, along with some Green-Tailed Towhees, but hadn't been overly impressed. There had been recent reports on the AZ listervs though of Black-and-White Warblers, Myrtle Warblers, a Summer Tanager, and some Redhead Ducks--all new birds for me--at the center now, which was more than enough motivation for me to get outdoors instead of grading papers.

While I did not see any of the above species, I did get some good looks at Common Yellowthroat, Marsh Wrens, Kinglets, and Lincoln's Sparrows. My photographic nemesis the Common Yellowthroat continued to elude my camera. At one point I thought the curse might end, but then a large loud family passed by making as much noise as possible, and all of the birds flushed. Arrgh.

I did see a male Black-Throated Grey Warbler from far away, the first male of the species I've seen, so it was still a pretty good outing, even with the heavy clouds.

Here's the namesake black throat, which is not actually visible on the female.

Like most Warblers, he stuck around for all of 3 seconds, and then took off.

Here is a more aesthetically pleasing shot of the female Black-Throated Grey I saw this summer at the Gilbert Water Ranch. Note the non-black throat.

Survey Saturday

2012-01-21T12:42:00.003-07:00

I'm beginning to suspect there is some sort of nebulous conspiracy here in Phoenix. All through the week there's not a cloud in the sky, and for the last 4 weekends we've had medium to heavy overcast weather. It's downright stultifying!

Anyhow, today was the Maricopa Waterfowl Survey, which is conducted every year by the Game and Fish Department. They get bird nerds and volunteers to walk, drive, or gallop all over Maricopa County taking inventory on the water birds. I've been doing my part here in central Phoenix, and I wasn't expecting too much in way of photography anyway.

There wasn't much out of the usual. There were lots and lots of Coots, Ring-Necked Ducks, and Canada Geese. Some Wigeon and Shovelers were seen along with Pied-Billed Grebes, wild Mallards, and a few Herons. There were also 3 Harris's Hawks at Encanto Park, which do not count towards the survey, but were a welcome sight nonetheless.

And there was this shy little guy:

The duck was all white, with a short stubby bill and overall length of about 12 inches--pigeon size. Given his diminutive stature and his stubby bill, along with my assumption that this is not a juvenile, he stood apart from the other typical white mallard-sized ducks one often sees around urban ponds. I'm not sure if he's a hybrid or just another species of domestic duck that I'd never seen before.

Here he is trying to eat an eucalyptus leaf.

Doh! Look at me; I'm confusing!

He was a cute little thing.

Some Misc. Photos

2012-01-20T05:00:00.002-07:00

I'll be out participating in the Greater Phoenix Area Waterbird Survey on Saturday, moving around through central Phoenix and taking inventory on the waterfowl in the area. While this should both be helpful to the AZ Game and Fish Department and be a lot of fun, I'm not expecting to come away with many pictures. To keep a little color on the site, here are a couple pleasant photos of some normal residents at Encanto Park.

Wishing good birding to everyone this weekend!

Lawrence's Goldfinch

2012-01-19T05:00:00.003-07:00

Even though the Lawrence's Goldfinches spell their name incorrectly, there was still a special satisfaction to seeing and photographing this semi-kindred bird. The reports started circulating on the AZ listservs that there were a few Lawrences around Pond 5 at the Gilbert Water Ranch. They're not exactly rare, but they're uncommon and move somewhat erratically, so it's hard to predict when or where one might get another chance to see these handsome little birds.

It took a while to locate them at the Ranch. The Lesser Goldfinches that I see around the area like the tops of the thistle and seedy grass. I figured the Lawrence's would act similarly, but this wasn't exactly the case. It was odd enough that I didn't see a single Lesser Goldfinch, and the Lawrence's turned out to be mingling with White-Crowned and Brewer's Sparrows in the southwestern nook of Pond 5. They'd spend a minute or two up in the mesquite trees, and then return to forage fairly low in the grass, like the Sparrows, and spend 30 minutes or so in the ruff.

They were hard to find in the grass, and harder still to keep in focus with the camera. It was a pretty charming and fun challenge as they were not overly bothered by my proximity, and I was forced to practice my manual focussing. As undesirable as it is to have the grass obscuring the bird, I like the overall effect and texture that the spindly stalks bring to the photos.

I did want to get a clear photo though, and after a pretty long spell of waiting, the Finches finally returned to their mesquite perch. However, when a thick cloud moved in front of the sun, it made for a pretty nervy ending. I was starting to sense that the Finch's patience and my luck were running out. As you can see below, the cloud eclipsed almost all of the natural light. The Finches were sitting still for now, but how long could they last!? It was a race against time...

The cloud cleared away just in time. I got a bit of light and got a few shots off before the Finches bolted, and not just back to the field. They took off across the pond and quickly disappeared. Even if the photos aren't picture-perfect, I got to observe the Finches for a long and edifying time. It was a very fun and thorough way to add a new bird to the List, and keep the good times rolling in 2012.

Wednesdays with Audubon, Chapter 8

2012-01-18T08:00:00.002-07:00

After a somewhat slow and shaky start, Audubon and his help were making their way through the Labrador Islands and towards the gulf of St. Lawrence. Some of the islands were dotted with rundown shacks and smokehouses. The boreal air held a heavy stillness that wass only occasionally broken by the call of some pelagic bird echoing through the misty sky. Apart from the occasional sighting of a fishing boat, the men were isolated. It must have been eery and unsettling at times, while wonderfully freeing at others.

On June 11th they passed through Cape George and Cape Porcupine, where the ice was still well-formed. They stopped near the Porcupine shoreline to trade with some Indians, and Audubon also came upon some Chimney Swallows and Blue Jays.

The St. Lawrence Gulf was a bit more settled than the outer islands. Little hamlets dotted the emergent green hills as they undulated into the distance, textured here and there with the recognizable rows of cultivation. Audubon and his crew put in at Jestico Island, which was speckled with wild strawberries and enhanced by the flurried activity of American Redstarts and Tawny Thrushes. About the Redstarts Audubon writes: "This is one of the most lively, as well as one of the handsomest, of our Flycatchers, and ornaments our woods during spring and summer, when it cannot fail to attract the attention of any person who may visit the interior of the shady forests."

They also observed mating pairs of Spotted Sandpipers, Guillemot, and Great Blue Heron.

They collected black currants and the sailors killed a seal for dinner, while Audubon observed a pair of Red-Breasted Mergansers, "that had glutted themselves with fish so that they were obliged to disgorge before they could fly off."

June 12th was spent navigating from Cape Breton to the Amherst Islands in very heavy fog. Despite his father's prowess, Audubon was not much of a sailor. He spent most of his time sullenly below decks while they navigated the tricky sandbars that often linked the tiny isles. On June 13th the temperature dropped down to 40 degrees, a dip for which Audubon and his crew were poorly prepared. They went ashore Magdalene Island where they were met on the beach, much to their surprise, by a wild-looking woman who spoke about a third French, a third English, and a third of some other jargon Audubon claims neither he nor any of his crewmen could decipher. The woman nonetheless led them to a small Catholic Church, where, to their surprise, they were caught up in the middle of a La Petite Fete de Dieu (translate 'small party of God'?) festival. Despite the harsh conditions of the island and the apparent poverty of its populace, Audubon & Co. were treated to French wine and fresh herring. While the less ornithologically inclined made pleasant company inside the chapel, Audubon followed the preliminary rays of sun out into a nearby wood. He observed "Black-Capped Warblers" (I'm not sure if this would be a Black-Capped Chickadee or Black-Capped Vireo?), and Audubon gathered his first specimens of Piping Plover.

Audubon recorded: "So plaintive is the note of this interesting species that I feel great aversion to killing them. They are also the swiftest of foot of any water-birds, which I know, of their size."

He later added in his Birds of America, "While migrating eastward, the Piping Plovers proceed in pairs; and should one of these on its way find a convenient place for breeding, and remain there, several others are often induced to take up their abode in the neighborhood."

It's not one of my favorite illustrations, but he gives a pretty charming account of the birds. I wonder what sorts of joy Audubon would have found with a digital camera on these expeditions, the greatest advantage of which is that it would spare the birds? Of course, one could argue that Audubon would be able to paint from photographs and memory, but what if that were not an option? I wonder, if he were forced for some reason to choose between photographs and his painting, which would he pick? As I've said before, there's something irreplaceably more personal in these painted renditions of the birds, even if they're only second-hand likenesses.

Birds at the Ranch

2012-01-17T09:07:00.000-07:00

The good birding and open spaces at the Glendale Recharge ponds only increased my avian appetite in this long weekend, and I decided to revisit the Gilbert Water Ranch to search for some reported Lawrence's Goldfinches on Monday. I'll relate that adventure with more detail later in the week.

As usual, the Water Ranch was teeming with activity and with all manner of species, from Herons and Kinglets to Teals, Stilts, and Sparrows. One of the best sightings came early on in the day, and coincided with a nice break in the clouds. I was circling around Pond 5, on of the larger and southern basins that is actually now full of nice, seedy grass (perfect for finches), when this female Northern Harrier touched down.

At about 25 yards, this was the best look I'd yet been afforded by a Harrier, although I see them flying around often enough in these winter months. This same female has been at the Water Ranch since at least October, and was actually the first of the species I ever saw. I continued around the southern bend in Pond 5 and was greeted by the unmistakable trilling of a Belted Kingfisher. He was as skittish as ever, but looked marvelous out in the sun. Magnificent bird.

I continued to peruse the grassy areas and shoreline scrub in search of the Lawrence's goldfinches, and was surprised to find not even a single Lesser Goldfinch, usually a guaranteed sighting at the Ranch. At least the herons were out in force. The Black-Crowned Night herons were in exactly the same place where I saw them a over a month ago. It is entirely possible they haven't even left the tree since then.

There were some Snowy Egrets in the trees as well as a Great Blue Heron. I like the protruding feathers here and the dexterous position of the Snowy's feet on the branches.

There are usually some warblers to be found in this swampy corner too, and I was hoping for the Common Yellowthroat I saw last time. Unfortunately this Yellow-Rumped was the only Warbler on duty, but even with them being a dime-a-dozen in the winter, they're still always a pleasure to see.

Slightly more muted was this sulking Brewer's Sparrow. If he was hoping someone would come and perch with him, he certainly didn't pick the most comfortable spot.

There were lots of Brewer's Sparrows along with a few Lincoln's and tons of White-Crowned foraging in the tall grass along Pond 5, and it was here that I began to vigilant wait for the Lawrence's Goldfinches. Since tomorrow is Wednesday with Audubon, I'll have to wait until later in the week to share that adventure.

It was great birding at the Ranch, as always, and a very nice cap to the long weekend.

Recharging the Birding Fun at the Glendale Recharge Ponds

2012-01-15T16:44:00.001-07:00

I don't know what it is this winter, but the clouds seem determined to congregate only on the weekends. It was a fairly mild Saturday morning birding in Tempe, so today I decided to check out the Glendale Recharge ponds on the west side of town despite the weather. The Glendale ponds are operated by the SRP electric/water company and have varying water levels throughout the year. Their wider diameter and relative seclusion from the city noise makes them an ideal location for wintering waterfowl, including Goldeneye and Buffleheads, two ducks I've yet to see.

The recharge ponds are sandwiched in the no-man's land between the Glendale municipal airport and the new NFL stadium. There's a lot of big and important air traffic going in and out of Glendale, lots of messages to send...

Alas, this was the only Cardinal that I saw today.

When I arrived, I was a bit discouraged to see that the water levels were in fact very, very low. This meant I wouldn't be seeing many ducks, but it was also a boon in that I could now traverse much closer to where the birds were feeding out in the muck. With high water, you obviously have to keep to the banks, which reduces one to scope/binocular views only. Although it was very overcast, I probably would not have gotten good pictures with high water levels and good sunlight either, since everything would've been so far away. Given that the cloudy skies seemed to really encourage the birds, I was happy enough with the circumstances. But be forewarned, dear reader, this will be a very brown and muddy post.

There are about 6 ponds in total, and although they were all similarly drained, there was still an abundance of waders, peeps, and shorebirds out in the gunk.
The first bird of the day was a Greater Yellowlegs, and he was spending his Sunday savoring the last puddles of swamp. Although he was alone, there were maybe 16 Yellowlegs seen in total, and for the most part they were the largest waders around the ponds.

The Least Sandpipers were definitely the most numerous. I stopped counting after I passed 150; they were all over the place. I'm not sure if this little guy was looking for food or just admiring his reflection. It made me think though, how curious it must be to see one's reflection every time one goes to take a bite of food, to have to peck through one's own countenance for every tasty morsel.

At the opposite end of the size spectrum, there were probably a dozen Great Blue Herons perched on fences and in the trees around the complex. I didn't see a single one down in the ponds, probably because the lack of water meant there was a lack of fish.

With the water levels being so low and the ponds so wide, I decided to start cutting straight through instead of walking around the basins. The idea was both to save on time and to get some better looks at whatever was in the middle of the ponds, where the little bit of water still remained. This plan also had the advantage of keeping what little sunlight there was concentrated behind me, though it had the disadvantage of covering my shoes in smelly mud. It worked out pretty well, and I was able to add two more birds to my Life List that I would have likely otherwise missed.

That is not to say I came away with dynamite photos or anything. Believe it or not, there are 5 Horned Larks hanging out in there, and believe it or not they were quite beautiful. I had been expecting to see some Horned Larks this winter, but was not really expecting to find them in the middle of a drying lake bed, so even despite their skittishness it was a very pleasant surprise. It seems like a new bird sighting and good photos seldom go hand-in-hand anyway, so there were no hard feeling as the Larks kept their distance.

There were a lot of American Pipits running around the pond interiors as well, and they too were a new bird for me. Though they stayed in constant motion, they were more self-confident than the nearby Larks and Sandpipers. Pipits seem kind of unremarkable, like a cross between a Song Sparrow and a Yellow-Rumped Warbler instead of being a clear and unique species. Their tendency to flick and wag their tails, and their longer thumb/rear toe sets them apart.

Even though I wasn't anticipating any Pipits, they're pretty common in the right habitats, and they gave me frequent sightings throughout the morning. As with many of those little brown birds, there's still a lot to appreciate in their muted plumage.

While I was ambling around the northern-most ponds, a single Sandhill Crane flew overhead. At least, that's what I thought it was. The long legs hung out behind the lanky bird and it had a much stubbier beak than a Great Blue Heron. I couldn't make out any color on the bird though, and I still don't feel confident enough to write it down. As I set out in pursuit of the possible Crane, hoping it'd settle in the nearby farmland for some grazing (it didn't), I almost stepped on this Rock Wren.

He flew away and then stood very erect and very indignantly with his back towards me, letting me know that we were no longer friends.

At this point I had surveyed most of the ponds and the nearby farmland, which was inhabited entirely by Blackbirds and Mourning Doves. Perhaps the largest overall attraction of the day was the selection of Raptors that were hanging out on the outskirts of area. In addition to the basins, there's an adjoining (and unfortunately off-limits) flood/overflow-zone with a small stream and lots of higher trees and shrubs that were very popular with the bigger birds.

I followed this riparian area south while heading back to the car, and that last 30 minutes of birding yielded 6 Red-Tailed Hawks, 2 Cooper's Hawks, 1 Sharp-Shinned, 2 Osprey, and 1 Loggerhead Shrike.There were also abundances of Chipping Sparrows, Song Sparrows, Yellow-Rumped Warblers, Abert's Towhees, House Finches, and Gnatcatchers along the stream, and I could hear Kingfishers calling even though they stayed out of sight.

The last bird of the day was this smaller raptor (maybe 14 inches), who was perched on the telephone pole where I had parked. She took off right as I raised the camera and the resulting photo is just blurry and dark enough to end the day with a question mark. My guess is a juvenile Sharp-Shinned Hawk, but I'm very open to suggestions here. You can't tell very well from the picture, but it had yellow eyes and 4 dark bands on the outside of its tail.

The cloudy weather is supposed to hold through midday tomorrow--when I was planning on exploring the Gilbert Water Ranch for some rumored Lawrence's Goldfinches. Let's hope those clouds have a bust up and decide to part ways!

No Saturday Sightings

2012-01-14T13:27:00.001-07:00

Pops and I set out to the Tempe Town marsh this morning, hoping to see the Northern Parula and Eurasian Teal that were spotted there earlier in the week. It was a brief but nice morning, with tons of Cormorants, Phoebes, Ospreys, Flickers, and Song Sparrows enjoying the weather. Although Pops had a brief but good sighting, I did did not see the Parula, and we both struck out on the Eurasian Teal. There were lots of Shovelers, Gadwall, and a few Green-Winged Teal to be seen, and we'll definitely try back soon for the others.
I'm hoping to check the Glendale recharge ponds out on Monday and comes back with few more pictures--the photography was slow today. In the mean time, happy birding to everyone this weekend!

The sticks in fron of the Yellow-Rumped Warbler are very distracting, but I like the picture because you can see all 3 of the yellow point son the bird (chin, flanks, and rump).

Here's a darker male:

There's a juvenile White-Crowned Sparrow somewhere in there...

Wednesdays with Audubon, Chapter 7

2012-01-11T18:57:00.000-07:00

The next several posts will focus on Audubon's trip to the Labrador Islands, one of the most dangerous and important voyages in his career. After the fairly successful publication of Audubon's Birds of America, it was essential that he quickly gather more and new species to document before he lost momentum. That is, before his name ceased to be the toast of England and the Ornithological world.

Audubon departed for the islands with his younger son John and a hired crew in early June of 1833. He chartered a private schooner called the Ripley for $350 a month plus provisions, and spent the summer months exploring, collecting, drawing, and painting in the near-constant daylight that such latitudes provide that time of year.

The first few days were spent in some apprehension as they struggled to pull the boat out from open water and into the numerous bays and inlets of the Labrador coast. The choppy waters and rocky shore were discomforting for the crew. On June 8th they successfully navigated the bay between the Seal Islands, known for their fur seal populations, and the Mud Islands, known for their mud pies. Audubon observed the nesting Storm Petrels and also collected specimens of Foolish Guillemot and Gannets, despite sea-sickness stealing everyone's appetite for the day.

Audubon recorded this about the Guillemots in Birds of America: "While on my way toward Labrador, they were constantly within sight, gambolling over the surface of the water, the males courting the females, and the latter receiving the caresses of their mates. These would at times rise erect in the sea, swell their throats, and emit a hoarse puffing guttural note, to which the females at once responded, with numerous noddings to their beaux. Then the pair would rise, take a round in the air, re-alight, and seal the conjugal compact; after which they flew or swam together for the season, and so closely, that among multitudes on the wing or on the waves, one might easily distinguish a mated pair."

The next day they struck out to the Canseau Island shore, where the men's stomachs could settle and Audubon collected Robin nests, as well as specimens of White-Throated Sparrow and "Savannah Finch". I must admit, I've never heard of a Savannah Finch, but sure enough here is Audubon's rendition:

Despite the birding opportunities, Audubon's crew managed to pry him away and they spent June 10th catching lobsters. June 11th brought Audubon a Great Black-Backed gull, the largest gull in the world (a 30 inch bird). With his Gull and his lobster lunch, Audubon was a happy and gushing man:

"It is as the Eagle to the Vultures or Crows. So superior is it in strength and courage to the Fulmars, Lestris, or even Gannets, to say nothing of Gulls of all sorts, that at its approach they all give way, and until it has quite satisfied itself, none venture to approach the precious morsel on which it is feeding."

Next week Audubon lands in the gulf of St. Lawrence, and the action really begins. It's another short post this week, but the opportunities for pictures are at least on the up and up! As I've mentioned before, there is something inescapably beautiful, if also distracting, about these personalized depictions in the early bird books. All of the illustrations were hand-drawn and then copied through an etching process. The images lack the proper proportions and technical accuracy of today's field guides, but have been thoroughly personalized and provided with an exceeding attention to detail and love of the subject. I don't mean to downplay today's field guides, but you know that when you are looking at Audubon's models, you're looking at a specific and real bird which he shot, preserved, and spent many hours then trying to bring back to life for us, the reader, almost 200 years later. I appreciate that very much.

On the way home from work...

2012-01-11T17:18:00.000-07:00

I stopped by Encanto Park, only a slight deviation from the I-10 highway. I only saw the resident Lewis's Woodpecker at a distance, but it was very nice to just sit and observe for 15 minutes. There are plenty of Ring-Neck Ducks in the ponds, and always a few Kinglets and Gila Woodpeckers bumbling about. This Pied-Billed Grebe, done up right nice in his breeding plumage, was a special treat:

Here's a non-bredding Grebe, meaning it is without the namesake stripe on the bill, for comparison:

You can hear and see the Yellow-Rumped Warblers just about everywhere in the autumn and winter months. I must admit, I usually ignore them. But when it's a slow evening and there's not a lot of activity, you're forced to focus on every bird, and it makes me appreciate them once again.

Diminutive Diver--The Lesser Scaup

2012-01-09T19:27:00.001-07:00

Depending on the season, the Lesser Scaup can be found in freshwater lakes, ponds, and marshes throughout all of North and Central America. Even with the somewhat diminutive name, they're one of the most abundant and probably the most widespread species of duck in the United States. Despite the possible banality that can come with such a common creature, I only see Scaup during the winter time and, for some reason, much less frequently than many other wintering ducks, so I still find them to be pretty fun.

Their coloration combines elements of Ring-Necked Ducks and Greater Scaup, and if it isn't quite as jaw-dropping as the plumage of say, a Mandarin Duck, there's something inescapably pleasant about the Lesser Scaup's smooth features. Just look at the up-turn there at the base of the bill--the bird is caught in a permanent smile.

The unfortunate blurriness of this photo aside, you can see both the similarities and differences between Lesser Scaup and the Ring-Necked Ducks. The purple shows through on the Ring-Necked, and the back is a solid black, while the Scaup's sides are a brighter white. The white and black at the tip of the Ring-Necked Duck's bill are very prominent, and it is perhaps demonstrative of the Lesser Scaup's personality that he lets the more boldly colored ducks steal the show.

But take him for granted and PLOOP!

He's gone, diving for edibles and planning his re-emergence with all the confidence one might sooner expect of a Greater Scaup!

A classy duck and a gentleman of the ponds, the Lesser Scaup is a welcome addition to any winter waterfowl entourage.

Here is the lovely lady.

Flamboyance Incarnate--The Mandarin Duck

2012-01-07T13:52:00.001-07:00

What would you get if you transmogrified a Green Heron with a Cedar Waxwing and a Wood Duck? It would probably be a heinous and unnatural creation. Luckily we do not have to entertain such hideous science, because we already have the Mandarin Duck!

Technically we don't really have Mandarin Ducks in North America, though they are related to the Wood Duck. They were once widespread in China and East Russia, but have significantly dwindled in the wild and are now a majority in-captivity species. They occasionally turn up around the United States, either as escapees or released birds, and are always stunning to see.

This solitary male was at the Kiwanis Park in Tempe, AZ, and was clearly acclimated to people as he let me get very close even despite my gawking.

Here you can see the ruddy beard of the Green Heron, the yellow and white creamy facial feathers that resemble a Waxwing, and of course the prominent greens, blues, and reads on top of the head. The colors continue on the bird's breast, where they are accented by a central white spot. The bold black and white shoulder stripes give way to the zebra-striped flanks, dark blue feathers on the back, and the conspicuous, vertical paddles towards the back.

The Mandarin Duck is not on any official ABA lists since it is both a recent introduction and most species found in the wild are not second generation. That probably won't change for a long time, but I feel pretty lucky to see this bird first hand, as it is no doubt one of the most colorful creatures to be found in North America, and perhaps the world.

Long-Billed Dowitcher

2012-01-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

By far the most interesting bird in North America, the Long-Billed Dowitcher turns heads wherever it goes. Ok, I'm exaggerating a fair bit. Like many shorebirds/waders, the Long-Billed is somewhat muted and requires careful observation and consideration to distinctly identify it from other species. Shore bird identification is an art unto itself, and while the Long-Billed isn't too problematic, it's nice that even these simpler looking birds demand such scrutiny.

This fine fellow was feeding in a drainage/run-off ditch near some cotton fields in west Phoenix. Ordinarily, it's a difficult distinction between the Long-Billed and Short-Billed, especially when they mix and feed together. Luckily for us amateurs here in Arizona (and I don't mean to say that Arizonans are amateurs, just that it's nice to be an amateur in AZ ok? ok good.), the Short-Billed do not really stray in from the coasts, and they're never found in the state after October.

Another helpful clue is the darker stripes on the bird's tail primaries. I know it's not especially visible here, but the horizontal black and white on those little tail feathers would be a lighter brown with the Short-Billed.

I don't know what he was pulling up from the muck, but he was feeding with determination and gusto. It's always kind of fun to find these sorts of normally gregarious shorebirds all on their own. It makes the sighting seem more rare or more special, and this Dowitcher was a nice highlight on an already excellent birding excursion.

Wing It With The Kinglet

2012-01-06T18:38:00.002-07:00

Flighty, stubby, bubbly, and exceptionally small, Kinglets are a family unto themselves. The Ruby Crowns are found in the winter time throughout much of the U.S., although it's a rare and lucky thing to actually get a good view of that bright red cap. The Golden Crowned Kinglet shows its crown more readily, but is partial to coniferous forests (a photographic nightmare), while the Ruby-Crowned is perfectly content in both desert scrub and stagnant marshes.

Kinglets move like they've got electric current going through them. Watching them bounce around trees devouring insects, leaves, and many other odds and ends leaves one wondering if they're not so much beautiful and petit songbirds as mindless eating machines (yes, it could be both).

With their wing bars, eye ring, and yellow rachis, the Kinglet still provides plenty of eye candy even when the crown is not on display. I was recently reading too that they lay batches of a dozen eggs, by far the most for any songbird within their size-range. Can you imagine a nest full of 12 Kinglets? Total mayhem.

Never a wasted moment observing these industrious little birds.

New Birds!

2012-01-05T21:12:00.001-07:00

I've been trying to cram as much last minute birding into this week before school resumes, and while we (Pops and I) haven't always visited the most lush or beautiful places, we've made an excellent run with new species these last few days. With half-day parent-teacher conferences all this week, I'm needing all the escape I can get. We checked out both the notorious thrasher spot west of Phoenix, where the Salome Highway meets the I-10 , and later paid a visit to the Rousseau Sod Farms on the other side of town.

I'm used to birding now at the Gilbert Water Ranch and the Desert Botanical gardens, places where the birds are somewhat acclimated to constant foot-traffic. This is not the case outside of the city, where the birds are wild and the people are rare. It's difficult at times to get close enough to use your binoculars, and harder still to get good pictures. It has been an exciting, if poorly documented series of sightings, and the challenge has helped shake me out of that complacent urban birding mentality.

The first hour or so of birding at the thrasher spot was pretty fruitless, but finally this Bendire's got things going. The speckled breast along with the shorter beak make for a pretty straight-forward identification. Little did we know at the time that this was the best look any Thrasher would give us.

We chased this Crissal Thrasher, named for its rusty rump, a long way down an old river wash. In a way it was good that I only ever really saw this bird's backside--that's his most tell-tail feature--and after a while he alighted to some higher scrub where he briefly paused to sing before vanishing.

We ran into another birder who had come all the way out from Maryland (in Phoenix for business), and who had made the drive out solely to see a Le Conte's Thrasher. Pops and I had a brief but satisfactory look at the bird, with the buffy breast and dark eye again making for an easy identification, before it too disappeared into the scrubby undergrowth. I hope it resurfaced later for the far-travelling gentleman.

We were also hoping to see some Sage Sparrows, and they finally obliged us as we were about ready to head out. They kept their distance, a little bit to my disappointment, but even from far away we could admire their silver and white heads, as if they were named sage for their wisdom, instead of their choice in habitat.

The drive out and back had it's own fun sightings, including a Mountain Bluebird, a White-Faced Ibis (new bird!), and plenty of Meadowlarks among the agriculture. We were also able to pull over and get some nice views of this Long-Billed Dowitcher before finally committing to the highway and heading back into the city. The three Thrashers, Sage Sparrows, and Ibis added 5 new birds to the List, and made for a great half-day of birding.

We decided to next check out the Rousseau Sod Farms east of Phoenix, in essence scouting out the fields and canals in search of plains-dwelling birds such as Longspurs and raptors. While the Longspurs never showed, we continued to find new species and got some great looks at Northern Harriers, a Sharp-Shinned Hawk, Kinglets, Savannah Sparrows, and Blackbirds.

By funny coincidence, the Kinglets were the best photographic subjects of the day (usually they're the bane of cameras). I'm still falling short of getting a good look at that ruby crown, but they're such darn perky birds it's inevitable that they lifts one's spirits, even if you're already having a great day!

Here's to great birding in 2012!

Wednesdays with Audubon, Chapter 6

2012-01-04T20:37:00.000-07:00

Hello Readers,

Unfortunately, I won't have the time this evening to do the full and proper weekly installment of Wednesdays with Audubon, but I'll here submit a quick preview of the coming section all the same.

When we left Audubon last week, he had finally found that wonderful combination of financial stability and vocational reward in his ornithological publishing. Needless to say, it came when he was able to involve all of the talents and dedication of his entire family, instead of trying to manage it all on his own.

It had been a long but fulfilling struggle for the Audubons, and with his new professional establishment, Audubon was able to buy property in New York and set up the permanent Audubon home, where many the grandchild would be born and raised.

Like many men of his age (meaning the 1840s, not his actual age as he was now nearing 70), Audubon became increasingly intrigued by the allure of the West, and his wanderlust drew him towards a great expedition in Missouri, knowing full-well it would be the last adventure he could manage.

Audubon, age 69, shortly before his departure

Leaving his sons to continue supervising the new editions of his books, Audubon set out in April of 1843 towards St. Louis. The voyage began in poor circumstance, with Audubon chartering passage on a rickety steamship down the Mississippi. The unsavory conditions grated on Audubon's nerves, but that was not the worst of it.

The steamship struck a sawyer (a fallen tree whose root end is facing the bottom of the river, causing it to sway against the current), and for a moment it seemed like all might be lost:
"The ladies screamed, the babies squalled, the dogs yelled, the steam roared, the captain swore--not like an angel, but like the very devil--and all was confusion and uproar. Luckily, we had had our supper, as the thing was called on board the Gallant, and every man appeared to feel resolute, if not resolved to die..."

Rare Rufous Rusty Bird Chasing in Phoenix

2012-01-03T18:32:00.000-07:00

Since early December, there had been consistent reports of both a Rufous-Backed Robin and a Rusty Blackbird at the community park out in Anthem, a suburb about 25 miles north of Phoenix proper.
Since one of my new year's resolutions was to take my Life List to 300 species, I finally quit dragging my feet and decided to make the trip. Ordinarily it's not too hard to go chasing after birds and photos, but spending an hour in the car (during rush hour) with the possibility that, not only will might you not find the rare birds, but you might not find any interesting birds at all, is a fair deterrent.

Of course, I should not have worried. Within 10 minutes of arriving at the park I stumbled across the Rufous-Backed Robin. This rare but annual visitor from Mexico lacks the white eye ring of the American Robin, and instead has the rufous coloration, as its name indicates, on its back as well as its belly. The bird stayed low to the ground and was pretty skittish. After a couple shady shots, I was forced to hit it with the soft flash--something I prefer to avoid since I don't know how to use it--and I'm glad I did, as it soon eluded me and disappeared for the rest of the afternoon.

The first shot is without flash. While the rufous back is apparent, there's no light catching in the eye, which gives the bird a bit of a lifeless look. The flash illuminated the eye, but added a lot of haze to the picture and made the whole photo look kind of aged. Notice how the water in the background is now a light sky-blue, which I think has too much of a pastel effect.

I wasn't complaining though! A rare migrant in 10 minutes and definitive photos? I was pretty pleased. However, the Rusty Blackbird was another beast entirely. It's one of the few birds one prefers to see outside of its breeding plumage, as it's otherwise nearly indistinguishable from Brewer's Blackbirds. In essence, I was looking for a female grackle with a shorter tail, and given the large number of grackles and starlings in the area, flying in and out of trees and across the ponds, it was a pretty exhausting hour and a half search. I was about ready to call it quits when, thankfully, the bird finally showed near the water's edge.

The Rufous-Backed Robin must've been telling stories, because Rusty also stayed pretty far away. A rather intense looking bird, the pale eye is probably its most striking feature. The greenish-brown rust extends over the head and onto the torso and the white supercilia make for a pretty easy identification, once you've got it in your sights.

The Rusty Blackbird population has been steadily and significantly declining since the 1970s, though no one seems to be quite sure why. Although they're not too much to look at, it's great to see them while they're still around. Given that these birds are also supposed to spend the winter east of Texas, it's an especially nice find. Thanks to the Arizona Field Ornithologists group for publicizing it.

There were also Wigeon, Coots, Mallards, and a couple Shovelers in the ponds, as well as Lesser Goldfinches and a surprisingly large amount of Eurasian Collared Doves around the park. While I don't think I'll be returning to Anthem, it was a really nice park and I'm grateful to add two cool new birds to my List so early in the year.

This may be my first official chase as a birder--driving a considerable distance to specifically find one or two species--and it was a great success.

First Birds of 2012

2012-01-02T10:45:00.000-07:00

It was a great Christmas Break in New Hampshire, and happy new year too. Alas, I did not see the Snowy Owls or Buntings I was faintly hoping for, but the trip had its share of good birding nonetheless.

It's nice to be back in Arizona, where the temperatures are hanging in the 50s and the birds haven't fled south. Technically, my first bird of the new year was a Great-Tailed Grackle outside of the Phoenix airport. This sighting was then followed up with Starlings, Pigeons, and Mourning Doves on the ride home (I know I know, pretty prodigious stuff). I decided to improve on this start and squeeze in some early birding this morning, before all of the unpacking and cleaning must take effect. It was a brief but dazzling little excursion, and I was delighted to get some more colorful birds and photos to start this new year off properly.

I missed these guys.

I made the short trip down to Encanto Park to see if the Lewis's Woodpecker was still hanging around. He was indeed, and there were also Kinglets, Lovebirds, Flycatchers, Hummingbirds, and some frisky ducks all enjoying the mild weather.
This curious Lewis's Woodpecker, who now seems to definitely be planning a winter-length stay in central Phoenix, is just as skittish as he was last month. However, he has a pretty regular pattern that he flies between a few palm trees and the Encanto oaks. If you can get in the right position, with the sun in your favor, you can get some decent looks before the jig's up and he takes off.

He was still busily gathering and stashing acorns in the palm trees, just barely keeping ahead of the Starlings and Thrashers that were always lurking and poaching nearby. He found enough time in his routine for a brief stretch and a scratch before continuing with his winter preparations.

Watching him scratch away made me start to feel itchy, and I have to admit I inadvertently began scratching my neck too, though I didn't use my foot. I wonder. If a bird yawns, would it make a person yawn as well?

Although he is definitely the most unusual and probably the most colorful bird to be found at Encanto, the Lewis's Woodpecker was not the only highlight. This American Kestrel stopped by for some breakfast. He perched oddly close to a Mockingbird, who also didn't seem to mind. Usually the Mockers squawk and carry on and on until the raptors leave. Perhaps they made a new year's resolution to get along with each other.

Kestrel's are very pretty birds. I wish I had gotten these berries in good focus--aperture too low--it would've made for a nice picture. Unfortunately the bird bolted before I could re-adjust.

There is another solitary and recognizable resident along the oak-side Encanto pond. This Black Phoebe has been hanging out in the same spot since August. And really, why should he move?

One of my resolutions was to bring my Life List total to 300 this year. While I didn't see any new species today, it was a great way to begin a new year of beautiful birding.

If I Might Take Up Just A Moment Of Your Time...

2011-12-31T17:09:00.001-07:00

What species of bird is this? I saw the bird a little while back at the Gilbert Water Ranch, and I figured I shouldn't end the 2011 year without really knowing, for sure, what it is.
I like the photos a lot, if for no other reason that the different terrains and lighting, but would like them even more if I knew specifically what was photographed.

Female Wilson's? Female Yellow Warbler? Immature Yellow Warbler? Fall plumage Wilson's or Yellow? I see little yellow birds like this pretty often, both at the GWR and at the Desert Botanical Garden. For a while I figured them to be either female or immature Yellow Warblers? Nowadays I readily admit that I just don't know. Any and all suggestions, if not identifications, are much appreciated.

Wednesdays with Audubon, Chapter 5

2011-12-29T14:30:00.001-07:00

--Sorry to be getting this in late. I was without internet the last couple days, but hopefully things will get back on track. Last week Audubon had just returned from his work to reunite with Lucy Audubon after nearly a 5 year absence. While renown and respect for his work was beginning to grow, the money still wasn't coming in, but at least the Audubons were together.

While J.J. and Lucy were back together, his work was not yet done. He returned to England and then Scotland, this time with Lucy and his sons, John and Victor. While Audubon worked to promote his books, both those that were printed and the upcoming editions, his sons focussed on publishing and copying, while his wife dazzled their English friends with her wit and charm. It became apparent to both Audubon and those around him that he was still missing a real scientist in his undertaking. As he confidently notes: "I am now aware that no man living better knows the habits of our (North American) birds...I cannot however scribble tolerable english letters, and I cannot give scientific descriptions, so here I required assistance."

J.J. Audubon had more direct experience and field-time than any other ornithologist working in North America, but if his work was to be more successful and acceptable to those with strict scientific and terminological sensibilities, he would need a technical assistant. His first choice was Mr. William Swainson, but since Swainson was unavailable, Audubon went with the recommendation of Mr. James Wilson and set up a partnership with Mr. William MacGillivray. Again, it's impressive to see the names of Audubon's associates. There's not a man without at least one bird to his namesake. MacGillivray was very diligent, and with his technical focus Audubon's work gained strict scientific analysis to go along with Audubon's excellent, more personal accounts of each bird.

The Audubons returned to the U.S. in 1831, and J.J. immediately set out on a brief trip to Florida. On the way, he forged a friendship with Rev. John Bachman, a birding enthusiast and kindred spirit with Audubon. J.J. collected a few new species in Florida, and then promptly moved his family in the opposite direction, taking them up to Maine in 1832. At this point, his sons John and Victor returned to England to supervise his publishing, and Audubon hired on some help and set out on a treacherous journey to the Labrador Islands of Newfoundland, where he found and collected 73 new species. Unfortunately, many of Audubon's older notes, journals, and samples were destroyed in the New York fire of 1835, but his work had now gained enough support and momentum that it was moving along almost with a mind of its own.

His son John married Maria, Rev. Bachman's oldest daughter. The first Audubon grandchild, Lucy, was born in 1837, shortly before the latests and most extensive edition of Audubon's ornithologies was published in 1838. The Audubons now had enough money and established credit for J.J. to buy his beloved "Minniesland" (minnie being a scottish term for mother/wife) outside of New York City. The piece of land is today preserved and known as Audubon Park, and during the mid 19th century 11 of the 14 Audubon grandchildren were born there.

While Audubon does not directly comment on his change of fortune, I think it is very interesting that his success and comfort dramatically improved as he involved more and more of his family in his work. His early excursions were done in solitude, in part because his sons were still young and Lucy had to care for them. But during those early days, Audubon lost a lot of money and had a more difficult time establishing himself in the ornithological world. While reading Audubon's accounts, I often wondered at his frequent absences from his wife and children. Was it just an understood and necessary part of a young man's work in the early 19th century, or was he a little bit inconsiderate? At any rate, it certainly seems that when Audubon's family was able to help him more directly, his work became increasingly successful. In my limited experiences, I've always found birding to be much more enjoyable when I can share it with friends and family. While at times I recognize and sympathize with Audubon's yearning for the open country, for the secluded beauty of nature, it's always better with company.

Birding Fun in New Hampshire

2011-12-26T12:19:00.000-07:00

The sun is up, the snow is starting to melt, and the birds are coming out here in New Hampshire. The first and most flamboyant representative of the avian world was this Black-Capped Chickadee. These handsome and chubby little birds are very curious, and while they can get bossed around by the Blue Jays, I still deem them to be the mascots of the wintery forest.

To my surprise, there was also a strong presence of American Gold Finches around Granite Lake. Since I've been rather spoiled with my Goldfinches, and seen either the non-molting finches in Phoenix or the American Goldfinches in Iowa during the Summer, this was my first sighting of the Goldfinches in their winter eclipse plumage. It's not quite a match for the dandelion yellow they display in the warmer months, but it was still neat to see.

Another unexpected sighting was this little Brown Creeper. Although Creepers are not rare, it's always a bit of a surprise to see them simply because they're small, camouflaged, quiet, and solitary. They range over the entire U.S. and don't mind the winter cold, but given their diminutive behavior, it's just one of those birds you seldom plan on seeing or anticipate like you might with some of the louder or more gregarious woodland birds.

They cling tight and close to the tree trunks, running (creeping) up and down and upside down, gleaning insects and whatever else they find with their decurved beaks.

The White-Breasted Nuthatch is another guaranteed sighting in the winter months. It behaves much like the Creeper, but with its black cap, white undersides, and larger size, it's much more conspicuous.

Birding in this true winter setting, in these frosted woods, is much different from birding in the Arizona chaparral. Everything is much slower, much quieter, much more determined, and very placid. It's chilly and peaceful, with these little birds providing the only flashes of color and movement apart from the falling leaves and dripping snow.

Birding in New Hampshire

2011-12-24T14:24:00.000-07:00

My stay in New Hampshire has been wonderful. There is little that strengthens the body and soul better than relaxing with family in beautiful country. That being said, the winter birds here are troublesome!

Birding in New Hampshire is totally different from birding in Phoenix, and not just because of the snow. Instead of compact and low lying chaparral, the winter birds spend their time in the tall pine, oak, birch, and cedar trees. With it being winter time, bird sightings are much fewer and farther between. I've seen Dark-eyed Juncos, Chickadees, Nuthatches, and Crows, and I was also able to add Golden-Crowned Kinglets and American Tree Sparrows to my list. Getting good pictures is another story, and it's much harder to be patient when it's 20 degrees outside.

Today I went down to the Otter Brook preserve to scout the woody margins. The ponds were all semi-frozen, and it was deathly quiet. The birds would come in little groups, seeming to take turns foraging in the area before moving on, and always wary of the optimistic photographer nearby. There was plenty to see and admire apart from the occasional bird, and I particularly liked how the ice held to the grass at the water's edge. It was like nice, shiny, frozen snot. Marvelous!

As one might expect, the Dark-Eyed Juncos were not deterred by the cold. I frequently saw the Oregon-Race Juncos in Texas, so in a way this was a new bird for me. Even though I could only take distant photos, their adorableness knows no boundaries.

I spent most of the time stalking a small group of American Tree Sparrows. The Tree Sparrows are one of the few songbirds that migrate into New England expressly for the winter, and these wary Sparrows seemed right at home in the frozen vegetation.

With a couple more days in Munsonville and Christmas around the corner, I'm hoping to get some better looks and pictures that do these winter specialists justice.

In the mean time, Merry Christmas dear readers. Peace and blessings be with you this holiday season.

Wednesdays with Audubon, Chapter 4

2011-12-21T18:36:00.000-07:00

Poor Audubon. He had a talent and a love for ornithology, and he had a happy marriage. But from the end of the War of 1812 to the early 1820s he could not make a worthy investment to save his life, and indeed the deaths of his infant daughters weighed very heavily upon him.

Audubon took his family and moved to New Orleans in 1819, where he and Lucy found salaried positions as private teachers for some of the well established families there. While the Audubon family found some stability during this time, both financial and emotional, John felt his ornithological opportunities beginning to fade.

With Lucy still very popular and in high demand in New Orleans, Audubon decided to make a trip up to Kentucky and New York with his oldest (14) son Victor in the Summer of 1823. Lucy and the younger children were secure in Louisiana, and Audubon's sense of adventure, along with a growing desire to focus on his naturalist interest and be recognized for his work, drove the men up north. Audubon does not include details of this trip, although he and Victor were both way-layed with yellow fever in Louisville, and Mrs. Audubon had to come nurse them back to health despite their best attempt at self-sufficiency.

Audubon still had a fine reputation as an artist and a naturalist, but he had not done much to establish himself within the growing networks of professional and internationally recognized ornithologists. Leaving Victor to study painting and drawing in Shippingport, PA (Audubon assures us this was Victor's interest, and not at all prompted by his father), Audubon continued on to Philadelphia. With his connections in Philadelphia, Audubon was able to meet and hobb-nobb with the city's elite, and even find some venues for his artwork. It was during the spring and summer of 1824 that he acquainted himself with the likes of such bird-brained people as Charles Lucien Bonaparte (nephew to Napoleon), Sir Edward Harris, Dr. John Bachman, George Ord (who became Audubon's anonymous nemesis), Dr. Richard Harlan and many other distinguished and published people.

Looking at these last names, one can tell this was an auspicious gathering in American natural history. Almost all of them have at least 1 species of bird to their namesake, and some have many more. It was from this exposure that Audubon gained the necessary capital and encouragement to compile and publish the first edition of Birds of America. At the time, the demand and funding for such things was to be found predominantly in England so Audubon had to remove himself to foggy Albion and delay his return to Lucy. Birds of America was published through 5 editions, with a total of 435 plates showing 1035 figures of birds in total. This was published much to the envy and excoriating, anonymous criticisms of Mr. George Ord, who had spent his time as a professional ornithologist continuing post-humous work on Wilson's Ornithologies. As one might imagine, his work was made obsolete by Audubon's superior compilation.

It's amazing to think of these first birding books and field guides. All of the illustrations were hand-drawn and then copied through an etching process. They would have lacked the proper proportions and technical accuracy of today's field guides, but have been thoroughly personalized. Additionally, the author could blend colors and shapes in a more organic way, and create a product that was probably less accurate, but also more artistic than many of today's models.

Audubon's books sold very well in England (there was still relatively little time and interest for such things in America), and he was quickly encouraged to produce more editions on his return to America. With significant and respectable support from the naturalist community, and a paying constituency behind him, Audubon felt compelled to build on his success. He spent the late summer and early fall amidst the swamps of New Jersey, hiring on extra help to aid in his gathering of specimens. Over the course of 4 months he found and drew 95 new bird species and 66 eggs. With these add-ons now done, Audubon could finally head back to Louisiana. He set out on a ferocious pace towards New Orleans, and was reunited with Lucy, whom he had not seen for several years, in November of 1829.

Eurasian Wigeon II: Return of the Wigeon

2011-12-19T13:46:00.001-07:00

The clouds and the chill stayed with us here in Phoenix, despite the best promises of the weather channel that they'd go away. Luckily the Eurasian Wigeon is still around too, and I endeavored to get some improved images to share. Between the 2 ponds, there are probably 4 or 5 dozen wigeons, and they all are very diligent sentinels. They would not tolerate any sort of approach, and it became apparent very soon that'd I'd have to be pretty sneaky if I was to improve on yesterday's pictures.

The Wigeons were fancying the south-shore grazing, which worked out in that there was actually a bit of sunlight. However, there was very little cover and I had to approach them from Camelback road, which meant I was doing the bootcamp-style belly crawl over these little grassy hills much to the honking amusement of passing traffic. As soon as I peered above the final slope, the Wigeons began their retreat, but it did afford a good look at the Eurasian.

The grass was nice and wet. When combined with the 40 degree temperatures and slight breeze, it made for a chilly stake-out. These two nearby Mourning Doves must've thought I looked pretty silly.

After a few more (unsuccessful) attempts to get a good angle of approach on the Wigeons, they left the west pond and moved over to the adjacent and slightly smaller eastern pond. This pond provided a better opportunity since there's an oleander hedge that provides some cover. While the Wigeons stayed out pretty far from the shore, the view was much improved.

Unfortunately it was still too dim outside to get that higher shutter speed. While these photos came out a bit blurry, it was nice to see the wing coloration. This brisk morning was a great way to end my 2011 year of birding in Phoenix. I'll be in New Hampshire for the next 2 weeks, which'll be a whole new and awesome opportunity. Hopefully there'll be lots to share.

Eurasian Wigeon

2011-12-18T18:09:00.001-07:00

It's been a week for lost birds! The day after Pops and I observed and photographed (albeit, somewhat poorly) a Lewis's Woodpecker at Encanto Park in central Phoenix, I saw a Eurasian Wigeon mixing it up with the Americans at the Biltmore golf course ponds.

It was another overcast and rainy weekend, and I was doing some Christmas shopping in the area. Around 3:30pm or so, the sun was finally breaking through the clouds. I drive by one of the golf course ponds on the way home from work, and remembered once seeing a group of non-mallards. I had noticed white flashes on the heads as I drove by, and since I do not yet have good Blue-Winged Teal photos I set out with the camera. The weather was now very pleasant, even if the grass was damp, and it was just great to be outside.

The western-most pond had a few Coots, one Pied-Billed Grebe, and a few Ruddy Ducks all contentedly floating away from the shore. To the east of this pond I saw a nice, brushy area where this pond was fed from a more elevated body of water, and I figured there might be some fun Sparrows or something in the scrub.
Indeed, it was teeming with that quintessential western winter sparrow, the White-Crowned.

Once you get in birding mode, it's hard to stop. There was another pond east of the Sparrows, and I was compelled to explore.

As I cleared the ridge, there was a large group of Coots and Wigeons grazing on the putting green on the opposite shore. Even at this distance, there was one head that really stuck out...

Unlike the Wigeons and Coots that I've photographed at Grenada Park, these waterfowl were not used to people approaching them. They took to the water very quickly, and stayed far away from the shoreline. I was still shocked to see that reddish-brown head floating there with the other Wigeons. You always keep an eye out for a Eurasian, but you never really expect to see it (especially not in central Phoenix).

These guys brought together some nice Christmas colors, and indeed this felt like an early Christmas gift. I'll definitely be trying for some closer shots of the Eurasian--hopefully he sticks around--and it'll be fun to try and pick out a female in the flock.

I sent the sighting in to the Arizona/New Mexico Birding listservs, but it didn't get posted, so maybe this isn't actually that uncommon of a sighting. Either way, it's another cool new bird!

Lewis's Woodpecker

2011-12-17T10:22:00.001-07:00

Here are some more recent photos of the Lewis's Woodpecker that's residing at Encanto Park. He's still pretty skittish, but I was able to get close enough to see him stretching a scratching a bit in the morning light.

*Original Post:

For at least the last week or so, there's been a solitary Lewis's Woodpecker residing at the Encanto Park in central Phoenix. Lewis's Woodpeckers are typically found at higher altitudes, amid the pine and oak scrub woodlands in Northern Arizona and the like. It's pretty unusual to see them flying amidst the palm trees down here in Phoenix, or at least you don't hear about it as much.

I've stopped by Encanto now several times to try and get some decent pictures, and it has not been an easy task. It hasn't help that it's been an overcast and rainy week, but this Lewis' Woodpecker is amazingly skittish. He's easy enough to see, and flies a fairly predictable circuit between several palm trees and the 3 oak trees bordering the west side of Encanto lake. However, I haven't been able to get within 40 feet of the bird before it takes off.

It'll be an arduous and ongoing project to come away with some nice Lewis's photos, but it's just such a beautiful bird and a unique woodpecker that it'll be well worth the trouble. In the mean time, it's a lot of fun to observe him flying from tree to tree guarding his nuts. Other Gila Woodpeckers, Starlings, and Thrashers have found some of his acorn stashes, and he's on a constant alert. At one point, Pops and I observed him laying into a Starling that had wedged itself into one of his larders. He just started hammering away, and when the bird finally forced its exit, the Starling had a noticeable limp.

Since he seems to be storing up food, and has already withstood at least one week with average temperatures oscillating between 40s and 50s, I'm hoping he'll stick around through the winter. If not, it has still been a privilege and a pleasure to see this cool bird inside the urban bubble.

More Visitors from the North

2011-12-15T04:00:00.002-07:00

Probably my favorite duck, the Northern Shoveler always provides the amateur photographer with the a shovel-ready job. Up to last week I had only seen Shovelers through binoculars, far away in the middle of Gilbert ponds and Irving lakes. I was very fortunate to find a group of them close to shore at the Papago Ponds. With their egregiously oversized bills, the Shoveler silhouette is unmistakable, and I find no greater pleasure in identifying a duck than spotting that heavy-set head out on the water.

The tell-tale bill is only the beginning of the Shoveler's appeal. With their chestnut sides, buffy breast, iridescent heads, and shimmering tales, the Shoveler combines the colors of the Mallard drake with filtering capacity of a baleen whale. Sometimes, it gets tricky to fit this awkward and wonderful concoction of a bird all in one frame. The lengthy bill and tail feathers necessitate a very horizontal crop. While the resulting rectangle isn't a very appealing shape to the eye, the Northern Shoveler demands that certain, special treatment.

From one angle the head shows purple, and from another it brings out a unique teal (so he actually combines Mallard and Green-Winged Teal).

The sieve-like projections on the sides of the Shoveler's bill allow it to filter small invertebrates out of the water and muck where it dabbles. This convenient apparatus allows the Shoveler to live off of a diet that is largely unattainable to many of the other dabbling duck species.

As with many birds, the male is the more fashionable of the breed. However, the female has her modest patches of colors, and she really doesn't mind if people stare at her outlandish nose, honest.

If ever I was to have a pet bird, it would be the Shoveler. He would fill my world with color and help me dig holes in my garden (I'd get a garden after I got the Shoveler). It was with eager anticipation that I awaited the arrival of the Shovelers this autumn. This is one outstanding bird that never disappoints.

Wednesdays with Audubon, Chapter 3

2011-12-13T20:38:00.001-07:00

We left off with Audubon the adventurer. While his love of the outdoors and his fondness for drawing birds and observing bird behavior continued to grow, so too did his love for one Lucy Bakewell. Audubon ended that section of his account with a rather telling anecdote: "In my drawing of birds only did I interest Mr. Da Costa. He always commended my efforts, nay he even went further. One morning, While I was drawing a figure of the Ardea herodias, he assured me the time might come when I should be a great American naturalist."

This artistic skill and ornithological zeal was not quite enough for Mr. Bakewell, and he set Audubon up to study the mercantile trades that he might better provide for Lucy in their married life. Despite the pose he struck as a Renaissance Man, Audubon was no entrepreneur. He invested in indigo and ham trades (curious combination) into the Caribbean without any prophet to show. Apparently this commitment alone was enough for Mr. Bakewell, and John James Audubon married Lucy Bakewell on April 8th, 1808. They moved down to Louisville and bought a small department store. Their first son Victor was born June 12, 1809.

Despite his earlier financial setbacks, Audubon worked as part of a trade exchange between Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Kentucky. This network was set up by Mr. Bakewell, who entered into a New Orleans trading venture with John Audubon's capital (and a fair bit more business sense). While the families did fairly well, it became steadily more clear to Audubon that his was not a mind for merchandise:

"Were I to tell you that once, when traveling and driving several horses before me laden with goods and dollars, I lost sight of the pack-saddles, and the cash they bore, to watch the motions of the warbler, I should only repeat occurrences that happened a hundred times and more in those days."

Over the next couple years the markets rose and fell; Audubon and Bakewell profited less and less with each ensuing season. This did not stop Audubon from taking increasingly longer treks out into the Kentucky wilderness and beyond, recording in great detail all the birds and quadrupeds that he encountered.

To revamp his funding and better establish his proximity to the wilderness, Audubon purchased livestock in Louisville and drove it up to Henderson, KY, where he made a good return and bought several acres of property. He continued to improve his finances in the next year before being joined by Thomas Bakewell, who persuaded him to invest in a steam mill along with another Englishman named Thomas Pears.
"Up went the steam-mill at an enormous expense, in a country then as unfit for such a thing as it would be now for me to attempt to settle in the moon...Thomas Pears lost his money and we lost ours."

Audubon's fortunes went from bad to worse. After investing in some private banks, Audubon and Thomas Bakewell bought shares in a steamboat, and then resold to it a man who used counterfeit bills. The man, who Audubon only names as TB, attacked Audubon in the street for defaming his name. Though Audubon received several strong blows from TB's improvised cudgel, Audubon himself had taken to wearing a dagger, and severely wounded TB. While he was exonerated in court, Audubon's bills continued to pile up, and soon after the birth of his daughter Rosa he had lost the entirety of their fortune. Despite these continual setbacks, Audubon is not bitter in his recollections:
"She [Lucy Audubon] felt the pangs of our misfortunes perhaps more heavily than I, but never for an hour lost her courage; her brave and cheerful spirit accepted all, and no reproaches from her beloved lips ever wounded my heart. With her was I not always rich?"

Audubon sold his Pennsylvania estates to pay off his debts, lodging with nearby friends while he established himself as a draughtsman--finally, the technical and detailed skills he developed with his ornithological pursuits were paying for themselves. Audubon's reputation as a sketch-artist quickly grew, and he was often employed to draw the recently deceased, but with a life-like countenance, that would serve as the centerpiece and funerals and remembrances. This professional practice in turn led Audubon to greatly improve his avian artistry, and soon he was drawing birds better than he had before his string of misfortunes.

It was not long before his avian sketches gained as much notoriety as his portraits, and in 1819 he was invited to Cincinnati College to work as a taxonomist and taxidermist for the university's museum. Although his family settled comfortably in Ohio, and Audubon even opened a drawing school, the family suffered its most grievous loss with the death of Rosa, their first-born daughter (Audubon does not dwell on this at all, and in fact later mentions that they had another daughter, named Lucy, who also died in infancy even before Rosa). To make matters worse, it turned out that folks in Cincinnati pledged and promised more than they could pay, and the Audubon funds continued to shrivel. Despite the generally ill-tidings of these years, Audubon's love of nature continued to grow.

"One of the most extraordinary things among all these adverse circumstances was that I never for a day gave up listening to the songs of our birds, or watching their peculiar habits, or delineating them in the best ways that I could; nay, during my deepest troubles I frequently would wrench myself from the persons around me, and retire to some secluded part of our noble forests; and many a time, at the sound of the wood-thrush's melodies have I fallen on my knees, and there prayed earnestly to our God. This never failed to bring me the most valuable of thoughts and always comfort, and, strange as it may seem to you, it was often necessary for me to exert my will, and compel myself to return to my fellow-beings."

Visitors from the North

2011-12-11T08:00:00.002-07:00

Northern Pintails are very handsome ducks. They're not too gaudily colored, but are very sleek and elegant looking when they're dressed to impress. The male's heads are darkened with a rich chestnut brown. Their bills have diagnostic blue and black striping to add just a splash of color with the fine gray and black ensemble. And of course, their tales are elongated to show virility.

There are not one, not two, but three different shades of brown on the head. With the nice white breast and stunningly fine gray sides, these ducks are always in their gentlemanly morning suits, coattails and all. That being said, it can get tricky to keep the very intricate details of the bird's feathers in good focus without losing the pintail.

At the right angle, there's even a bit of rouge on the back of the head. A duck and a gentleman for all seasons.

Gadwall in Flight

2011-12-10T18:16:00.000-07:00

Funny duck the Gadwall. They're not especially colorful or elegant, but they still have their pride.

Lovely Birds Low to the Ground

2011-12-09T13:38:00.000-07:00

I saw my first ever Lark Sparrow Wednesday evening outside of work. It was hoping against hope, but there he was the very next morning, out feeding in the frost not two feet away from where I first saw him the day before. Of course, I could hardly observe him with all of the morning traffic, all of the kids and parents trudging along to and from the school, and the steady stream of cars that would've slowly driven right by me.

With a bit of extended good fortune though the Sparrow returned to his feeding grounds in the afternoon. I left the classroom a bit early (still after school was over) to check it out, and once again the Lark Sparrow was faithfully in place. The sun was still high in the sky, and Larry Butler Sr. also came by to see the bird. It was now the first and only Lark Sparrow for both of us, and it gave us some great looks! It flew back and forth between several spots, and even with the interruptions and curious waves and honks from departing students and colleagues, he was extremely tolerant...

even when looking into the sun. It's such a beautiful bird! I just can't stop gushing about the facial mask; it's like nothing I'd seen before. Just looking at the profile here, there are four black stripes, four white stripes, two chestnut patches, and caramel on the supercilium all converging towards the sturdy beak. When you throw in the white throat and breast spot, this bird has a lot going on from the chest up.

There's an extra fluff of white on the lores, and even a bit of black accenting the brown stripes on top of the head. Tall and proud, he is a lord of the Sparrows.

Eventually the Lark Sparrow flew into an ally on the other side of the street. While I stationed myself along the wall, Pops entered into the ally to try and relocate the Lark Sparrow. The alley was occupied by some noisy White-Crowned Sparrows, and for a little while we lost track of our quarry amidst their diversions. Like any ornery son and birder, I decided to then photograph Mr. Butler in birding mode.

Urban birds always hang out in the most lovely places.

Eventually the Lark Sparrow resurfaced and resumed his evening meal. With the traffic diminished now, he was very comfortable, and let me crawl to within 5 or 6 feet of him without flinching.

Most of the grass on the school field has been replaced with that silly winter lawn stuff, but the exterior strip of grass outside the fence is still the old bermuda, and he seemed to be finding plenty of seed.

I've got to say, if I had seen this bird behaving so tamely and not had my camera, it would have been pretty heartbreaking--that's just part of the risk a birder runs when they start involving a camera in their birding activities. However, with the benefit of pictures really allowing me to save and review the experience, this sighting was all the more special. There are so many more things to notice and enjoy with a still shot that I can't appreciate through the binoculars. There are those occasional bitter sweet experiences where blurry pictures leave a bit of a dark cloud hanging over an otherwise great sighting, but all in all photography has made me a much better, more acute, and more appreciative birder.

Although the Lark Sparrow provided plenty of photographic merriment, he was not the only pretty bird on the block. There was a charming Say's Phoebe perched in a nearby olive tree, and Pops pointed out a Lesser Goldfinch also feeding on the ground. This little birding patch must have been the local single's bar for the bird neighborhood.

We'd never seen a goldfinch feed on the ground like this. He just plopped down on top of a dandelion blossom and started digging in like a pie-eating contest. It was pretty cute.

I don't know if he was making romantic wishes or just playing with his food, but either way he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

I really liked how he was just melting into the grass. He looked like a a little hacky-sac or perhaps a wimple of dirty butter?

Lark Sparrow

2011-12-08T18:49:00.000-07:00

While looking through my field guides, I always found the Lark Sparrow to be one of the most beautiful and intriguing of the emberizids. Along with the White-Throated, I certainly considered it to be one of the most beautiful Sparrows I might actually see someday. When I happened upon this solitary Lark Sparrow, my first and only to date, it was a rather bizarre circumstance, but good grief that incredible facial mask did not disappoint!

It was around 4:15pm and I was waiting outside for Maria to pick me up from work. As I was exiting the school, I noticed one of my 4th grade students sitting rather sadly in the corner of the playground, which is in actuality a large, fenced in field. She was in the aftercare program, and had gotten into some sort of argument with her other after-school friend. Needless to say, her world was ending. The tears began to flow as she told her tail of woe, a story of good intentions and misunderstandings. While I slowly began talking her out of her funk, I noticed a small brown bird foraging in the bermuda grass outside the retaining fence.

I didn't think much of it at the time, and assumed it to be a House Sparrow. I've seen Harris' Hawks and one juvenile Oriole around the school grounds, but nothing much in way of unusual or special birds. As the bird turned towards me, the unmistakable white stripes and rich, chestnut brown were immediately apparent. It caught me totally by surprise, and my reaction would have been much more climactic had I not been in front of one of my students. Both out of a desire to share this amazing sighting, and to change the subject a bit, I began talking about the bird with my student, who seemed pretty interested. I pointed out how beautiful it was and that I had never seen one before. Going out on a limb, I even mentioned that this is not their usual range (is it slightly too far north for this time of year?), so that made it a very lucky sighting (which of course it was for me regardless). She liked birds too, but confessed that when she grew up she was in fact going to be a herpetologist.

The Lark Sparrow seemed pretty content in his little patch of grass, despite it's close proximity both to the parking lot entrance and we gawking spectators. I called Maria, who was pulling into the driveway at that very moment, and she parked nearby, happy and eager to meet me with the camera that I had mercifully left in the car for just these sorts of occasions. My first shot of the bird is above, with the white wrought-iron fence unavoidably involved. Luckily, the Lark Sparrow was tolerant enough to let me exit the playground and get around him so the sun was actually on my side.

With baited breath I snapped away, worried this beautiful bird would realize any second that there was a big goon staring at him, and fly away. The lighting was pretty dim, but I knew if I got enough pictures there'd be some keepers. He hopped around with perfect calm before some of my colleagues pulled up, curious to see Mr. Butler laying in the grass with a camera and hiding behind a fire hydrant (these are the moments we just have to endure as birders). I explained the situation to them with as much brevity and emphasis as possible, and in fairness they seemed genuinely excited and happy for me. Alas, Mr. Lark Sparrow had enough publicity, and he flew across the street.

He landed in an orange tree, which would've made for some great pictures had I been able to get closer. I figured I was already pushing my bird luck without trying my hand at criminal trespassing, so I left the bird and the yard in peace. It was a totally surprising and wonderful way to end an otherwise dreary day at work, and in fact it would've been a great way to accent any day! If I didn't have this mild addiction, all of the pick-me-ups and all of the FUN that birding provides would be lost on me. I would've walked right by this stunning sparrow and been none the better for it. I'm so glad that was not the case.

Wednesday's With Audubon, Chapter 2

2011-12-07T18:09:00.002-07:00

We left young Audubon in an awkward moment. His father had come home from a tour of duty and found that, despite his lively accomplishments in collecting rocks, bird nests, and eggs, he had totally neglected his studies. With little adieu, Audubon was removed to another one of his father's villas in France, where he was diligently kept to his mathematical schooling until he was sent to the United States at the age of 17, shortly after he finished memorizing his catechism and was confirmed.

Audubon stayed with one of his father's Quaker acquaintances in the New Jersey until his father could return from another tour and see about Audubon's own incorporation into Napoleon's Navy. This was a frustrating time for young Audubon. Despite his martial father's friendship with these Quakers, they would not abide Audubon's proclivities for firearms, swordplay, or dancing. It was with great relief then that Audubon was finally relocated to the Mill Grove farm, his first home, around the age of 20.

Audubon's journals give the impression that young gentleman often had these interim periods between school and their professional lives. They were mostly expected to learn civil manners and grow their acquaintances, if not find a wife, while staying out of trouble until the proper and fitting position presented itself. Audubon speaks of his first days at the Mill Grove estate with great pleasure:

"In my walks and explorations it was a source of such joy to me, and in the cave, which you [his sons] too remember, where the Pewees were wont to build, I never failed to find quietude and delight."

It was not long before more intrigue found it's way into Audubon's life. He spent several months happily fishing and hunting to his heart's content before an English family named Bakewell purchased the adjacent manor. Audubon recalls:

"I was informed that the master's name was Bakewell, and moreover that he had several handsome and interesting daughters, and beautiful pointer dogs. Mr. William Bakewell had called on me one day, but, finding I was rambling in the woods in search of birds, left a card and an invitation to go shooting with him. Now, this gentleman was an Englishman, and I, entertaining the greatest prejudices against all of his nationality, did not return his visit for many weeks, which was as absurd as it was ungentlemanly and impolite."

Fate was knocking on young Audubon's door. While out hunting grouse one frosty morning, Audubon encountered Mr. Bakewell in the woods. He was impressed by his manners as well as his pointers, and perhaps most persuasively by Mr. Bakewell's excellent marksmanship. The two would go on many hunting trips together, with Mr. Bakewell never ceasing to impress Audubon with his learning, manners, and marksmanship. There was another sort of attraction to the Bakewell family as well, for young Audubon found himself increasingly stopping by the Bakewell house to speak with a certain Lucy, one of the Bakewell daughters. The ensuing months saw Audubon's courtship enjoined with many feats of hunting and ice skating (often combining the two), as he became very close with the Bakewell family.

It was also a time of some difficulty for Audubon with his tutor, a frenchman he calls Da Costa. Audubon's speaks of "the wretch" Da Costa as being both snooty and a swindler. He had originally been sent to teach Audubon mineralogy and mine-management, after various ore deposits had been discovered around the Mill Grove farm. As Audubon recalls though, Da Costa knew very little about the subjects, and was more of a vagrant rhetorician and con man than anything else. Da Costa had taken particular disapproval with the idea of Audubon marrying into a non-noble English family, and endeavored to have Audubon shipped off and away to India to finish his tutelage. Audubon angrily requested a letter of credit from Da Costa that would allow him to pay for a trip to France, but when he went to cash the voucher in New York, he discovered Da Costa had actually written a request for Audubon's abduction and forced deportation. Unable to otherwise access his funds, Audubon elicited the financial help of the Bakewell sons.

Audubon successfully reached France after having a rather uneasy voyage led by a newly-wed captain who felt perfectly content to take his crew and passengers on a very scenic, somewhat honeymoony trip that eventually deposited Audubon in Nantes. Although Audubon spent an unexpected two years in France, it was an important time of maturation. After Audubon's testimony, Da Costa was released from his father's service, and Audubon received his parents' blessing for his marriage to Lucy Bakewell, once consenting letters had also been received from Lucy and her father in America. Audubon was also drafted for a brief term of service in Napoleon's navy before his father secured a passport to have him returned to America, away from the turbulence of the French regime. After another tumultuous trip across the Atlantic that involved Audubon narrowly escaping a press-ganging English privateer, he was reunited with the Bakewells and with his beloved Lucy.

It is at this point, perhaps observing his adolescent self for the last time, that Audubon recalls himself as a young man: "Perhaps it would be well for me to give you some slight information respecting my model of life in those days of my youth, and I shall do so without gloves. I was what in plain terms may be called extremely extravagant. I had no vices, it is true, neither had I any high aims. I was ever fond of shooting, fishing, and riding on horseback; the raising of fowls of every sort was one of my hobbies, and to reach the maximum of my desires in those different things filled every one of my thoughts. I was ridiculously fond of dress. To have seen me going shooting in black satin smallclothes, or breeches, with silk stockings, and the finest ruffled shirt Philadelphia could afford, was, as I now realize, an absurd spectacle, but it was one of my many foibles, and I shall not conceal it."

"I was, like most young men, filled with the love of amusement, and not a ball, a skating match, a house or riding party took place without me. However, I lived, until the day of my union with your mother, on milk, fruits, and vegetables, with the addition of game and fish at times, but never had I swallowed a single glass or wine or spirits until the day of my wedding. This was my constant mode of life ever since my earliest recollection, and while I was in France it was extremely annoying to all of those around me."

While the days of Audubon the adventurer were just beginning, the days of Audubon the rascal and fashionista were coming to an end. At the moment, birding seems to still be a pleasant hobby for Audubon. Where his hobbies and loves will take him, we must wait and see next week.

Meanwhile, Back on the Ranch

2011-12-05T04:00:00.087-07:00

The Gilbert Water Ranch provided the setting for another excellent day of birding with some good pictures, some bad pictures, some easy IDs, some tricky IDs, some heavy clouds, and some direct sunlight. The only consistent characteristic of the day, other than the fundamental reality that birding is fun, was the 40 degree temperature.

I postponed this excursion since Saturday was overcast and rainy. Even though the rain clouds were supposed to clear up, their lingering presence made my first couple hours at the ranch somewhat nerve-racking. The last time I was in Gilbert, I saw several new species and would have had some good photo-ops, but the overcast weather severely limited any photography. The cloud cover was less thick today, and there would even be periods of open sunshine! These brief bursts of light energized all of the birds and watchers alike that abounded at the Gilbert Water Ranch this morning.

As you approach the wildlife ponds from the northern entrance, you can feel the mist in the air, and the tang of cattle farms further south just begins to sting your nostrils. As you come upon the first pond, everything seems still, even deserted, but this is the Gilbert Water Ranch, and you know better! After a moment, all of the different bird shapes begin to materialize out of the morning mist, and the birding begins!

Far in the foggy distance, atop his own little mountain in perfect peaceful solitude was the first bird of the day, a Least Sandpiper. Truth be told he was not actually as isolated as the picture makes it seem, but he was the only Least Piper that I could see. At these inland ponds, they're usually in groups of 2-8. This guy must've had some serious thinking to do this morning, so he set off alone to his hill of contemplation.

Not far from the Sandpiper was a timid gang of Dowitchers. They were thoroughly silent--perhaps because it was still early and they don't drink coffee--and this made identification pretty difficult at my distance. At this point in the morning, most of the ducks and shorebirds were still curled up and tucked away, so for the time being I decided to search the chaparral and see which sparrows were out and about.

I was on a role with sparrows earlier this fall, when I got about 6 new species in a two-week period. Since then, things have settled down substantially. The Water Ranch becomes the dominion of the White-Crowned Sparrows in winter time, and in fact there may be more of them residing there than all the other birds combined. There is constant movement into and out of every bush, beneath every shrub, and always just enough to lead you on. Sometimes they stay hidden and silent, keeping their identity a secret until the last second. Sometimes they'll take seed right out of your hand. Other times they'll bolt before you've even raised your binoculars. All that being said, I didn't actually get a good picture of an adult today, but this juvenile posed nicely with the rising sun.

Danger lurks around every corner with these foggy mornings at the Water Ranch. Sometimes you have to watch your step. Although the rising sun somewhat illuminated the landscape, it took a while for the fog to clear out from the ponds and declivities. With predators like this Green Heron waiting to ambush their unwary prey from out of the morning mist, I may well have been lucky to escape alive...

The ducks seemed to feel uncomfortable with the deeper ponds until the fog cleared out, but that did not stop this Osprey from trying her luck. Although she was unsuccessful here, I like the rich colors in the background foliage and the steamy pond. It reminds me of a 500 piece jig-saw puzzle for some reason.

When the sunlight finally started to cut through the clouds, it was time to revisit the duck ponds. I've been anxiously awaiting the full arrival of this year's wintering ducks. From previous experience, I knew that all of the different Teal, along with the Pintails and Shovelers, would be inbound to the Ranch. I didn't see much when I visited 3 weeks ago, but now they were all represented. The number and diversity of waterfowl that the GWR draws is pretty incredible. However, it's also somewhat difficult and frustrating to get good pictures of all the ducks. They like to stay far out in the middle of the ponds, and most of the observation areas are on the east side, which means the sun is usually against you. I've been hopeful that some of these beautiful winter migrants will move in to some of the other water features around Phoenix (as is the case with Ring-Necked Ducks and Wigeons at Grenada Park), but for now I must stay content with what the Ranch provides.

Here is the first Cinnamon Teal I've seen this winter:

And the first Green-Winged Teal:

And the first Northern Shoveler:

At certain spots throughout the Ranch, you can find tidy colonies of Black-Crowned Night Herons. At one point I've seen as many as 11 crammed into one tree. Today there were a half-dozen or so on display, including 1 juvenile. When you've got a big bird in dense foliage, it's hard to get a full and unobscured body shot. While trying to maneuver for a better view, I knocked into a lot of plant growth that was still retaining the night's rainfall. The resultant wet chiding was excellent encouragement for me to stay on the trail. It's probably lucky my camera was unharmed, and I was also lucky not to startle the Herons. Night Herons are such suspicious and grumpy birds. More that most, they're prone to sit hunched up for hours and hours on end. I wonder what they think about...

This sulking juvenile was in some sort of time-out, forced as he was to inhabit his own, separate tree.

Occasionally I'll give in-flight photography a try. It is seldom fruitful for me, but it's definitely an area where I want to improve. Unfortunately, I clipped this poor Egret's wing. I'm glad he can still fly.

After playing paparazzi to the herons and egrets for a while, I wandered back to the northern and sunnier portion of the GWR. The increase in foot traffic and fishermen here means there are fewer of those uncommon and less gregarious birds, but it does mean that those birds you find are more used to people. They'll tolerate a closer approach and You'll usually have a great look at them.

Sometimes, that's not enough, and here's the tricky ID of the day. Given that it's December and most Warblers should be gone, what could this be? Is it a Female Wilson's? Female Yellow Warbler? Immature Yellow Warbler? Fall plumage Wilson's or Yellow? I see little yellow birds like this pretty often, both at the GWR and at the Desert Botanical Garden. For a while I figured them to be either female or immature Yellow Warblers? Nowadays I readily admit that I just don't know. Any and all suggestions, if not identifications are much appreciated.

Find the dullest, most sleepy Hummingbird you can, and it's still a treat to see from any angle (and how they appear certainly does depend on the angle). This male Anna's was putting on quite a show from his proud perch. Like the Anna's I photographed a couple weeks ago, I couldn't quite get that perfect shot where you see the full brilliance of the bird's gorget. I can understand though if he wants to save it for the ladies.

Birding is full of watershed moments. Once you get that first sighting, it seems like the 2nd and 3rd sightings come right after. You might go years without seeing a certain bird, and then all of the sudden you'll get 4 in a week. For me, the most recent synchronicity is with blinking birds. Last week I captured a blinking Ring-Necked Duck, and then photographed a blinking Coot almost immediately afterwards. This male Anna's was in a blinky sort of mood as well, and I have to say it's pretty darn precious when he does it.

Despite my most polite requests and entreaties and pleadings that he turn his head ever so slightly, this haughty Anna's was determined to look west. I do believe that at this point he was just mocking me.

Magnificent though they are, Hummingbirds are not the only splashes of color around the GWR. There has been an incredible expansion in the wild Lovebird population over the last 5 years or so. While they can now be found in nearly every city park across the Phoenix metroplex, The Gilbert Water Ranch was probably the site of one of their first colonies, and they're still a reliable sighting there throughout the year.

A little bit more surprising was this immature Moorhen standing out in the open near the entrance to the Ranch trails. This was only my second sighting of a Moorhen, but if they're this brazen now, I expect there will be many moor in the future.

On the main entrance pond nearby was this sadly single female Ruddy Duck, who may not have moved since I last saw her 3 weeks ago. I can't wait to see some Ruddy ducks in their spring plumage. Is there any other bird whose bill changes colors like that? There wasn't too much color on display here, but you can see why they're in the stiff-tailed duck tribe.

Once again the Water Ranch provided a great day of birding fun. The female Northern Harrier was still terrorizing the field birds (I didn't even try for a picture), and there were also some Scaups and even a leucistic Say's Phoebe reported in the area. While the drive out is daunting at times, the Ranch is definitely still the premier and preferred birding hotspot in Phoenix.

If you're in the area, Red Mountain Park is just a couple miles north, and it is the reported nesting area for wintering Yellow-Headed Blackbirds (or was a few years ago). I had no such luck today, and in fact it appeared that the entire lake area had been thoroughly conquered by quibbling Coots! I did add a new bird to the ol' Life List though, courtesy of this female (or immature?) Canvasback who had sequestered herself in the middle of the pond. If I'm not mistaken, it's somewhat unusual to see them very far inland during the winter. Success!

Pretty Birds Close to Home

2011-12-03T09:59:00.000-07:00

It is overcast and rainy today, and by all accounts will stay so for the rest of the day. I was planning to go down to the Gilbert Water Ranch today, and also check out a potential Yellow-Headed Blackbird reservoir to which Robert Mortensen made me privy a few days ago. Alas, I already had one Saturday of photography frustrated by overcast weather, so I shall try to go tomorrow instead. In the mean time, I did get some photos at Grenada Park on the way home from work, and this seems as good a rainy day as any to share them.

The sun was out in full on Friday. Even though it's setting by 5:30pm now, I still had a very pleasant hour of photography around the duck ponds and bordering chaparral that Grenada Park provides. I counted over 24 Lovebirds enjoying the romantic sunset, a new personal record for the park.

These two Lovebirds were in the same tree. The first bird was perched near the trunk and sitting contentedly within the shade. The second bird was at the edge of the overhanging canopy, watching the sun's retreat. I know the lighting accounts for a lot of the difference in saturation and color here, but it's still interesting to note the difference of hue created by the lighting, and the bird's actual difference in pigmentation. Looking at the top bird, I'd be inclined to call it Rosy-Faced. Looking at the bottom bird, I'd be more inclined to say Peach-Faced...

The evening also afforded me an opportunity to photograph Yellow-Rumped Warblers that were, for once, not in palm trees. When I spotted this first subject in a distant creosote bush, I suspected my string of bad luck with the Yellow-Rumps was about to be cut.

And so it was that on 12/02/2012, around 4:15 pm, I took my first satisfactory pictures of the western Yellow-Rumped Warbler. The tell-tale yellow flanks and rump are visible, but I especially liked the buffy chin and slight grey on the back of the head. Even in their muted autumn/winter plumage, there's much to appreciate in the Yellow-Rumped Warbler.

It's a grand feeling to come away with some good warbler shots, and it gave me an excellent peace-of- mind as I headed down to the duck ponds. There are several pairs of American Wigeon that hang around the Grenada ponds and provide a welcome relief to the scores of Mallards and Ring-Necks that patrol the shores. The green and white head of the male Wigeon is pretty fantastic, but I think my favorite attribute is harsh difference between the stippled coloration or the neck, and the rich brown of the breast. It's such a stark contrast. It seems like there are usually liminal areas on the birds, where the different colors mix and overlap a bit. Not so with the fashionable Wigeon!

It's not often I get to see the white belly, and unfortunately my shutter speed was too low to catch the Wigeon stretch in all its glory. But you can see the difference in the transition between the white belly and the brown breast, where the two colors overlap and mix quite nicely. The same goes for the green coloration on the Wigeon's head, as it slowly blends into the back of the bird's neck. The Ring-Necked Duck's ring is almost impossible to see, but the border between the neck and breast of the Wigeon is incredibly defined.

It's always a pleasure to see Pied-Billed Grebes. They remind me of little tug boats.

Wednesday's with Audubon, Chapter 1

2011-11-30T21:39:00.001-07:00

Maria and I received a wonderful belated wedding present from her great aunt and uncle this autumn in the form of John J. Audubon's journals. Compiled into two books and edited by his granddaughter, Maria R. Audubon, this incredible compilation was published in 1897, and provides for a fascinating insight into the life of the great explorer and ornithologist.

The books themselves are pieces of history, and demand a certain reverence and delicacy that is, at times, hard to maintain while adventuring along the Missouri River with J.J. Audubon. The binding of these books is so old that you have to cut the pages apart with a sharp knife as you progress through the stories (every two pages are actually attached on the right margin, so page 13 skips right to page 16 unless you lacerate the right-side margin to reveal pages 14 and 15).

I didn't know they ever bound books this way, but I guess it makes sense. It reminds me of a newspaper, as if they'd print the entire book out on one long sheet of paper, or several long sheets, and then fold them back in on themselves intermittently for a strong, non-adhesive binding. Fascinating!
My aspiration is to read a section each week and reproduce its highlights here every Wednesday, to the best of my ability, such that I can share these incredibly cool stories with all who are interested.

John J. Audubon's life began rather inauspiciously, on an unknown day, in an unknown year, on the French island of Santo Domingo (modern Dominican Republic). Audubon's mother was killed in a slave insurrection soon after his birth, and his father resettled in Nantes, France, where he remarried. With little knowledge of his early childhood, and none about his birth, Audubon's journals actually begin with a description of his father's: "John Audubon, my grandfather, was born and lived at the small village of Sable d'Olhonne, and was by trade a very humble fisherman. He appears to have made up for that want of wealth by the number of his children, twenty-one of whom he raised to man and womanhood...When my father had reached the age of twelve years, his father presented him with a coarse shirt, a stick, his blessing, and urged him to go and seek means for his future support...Some kind whaler or cod-fisherman took him on board as a "Boy"."

Audubon's father slowly grew in strength and skill. He achieved his own command of a fishing vessel at twenty-one, and owned several small crafts by twenty-eight, with which he sailed to the Caribbean, where he plied his trade until he could buy a small estate. Within ten years, John Woodhouse Audubon was called to serve in the French navy, and he worked for both Rochambeau and Lafayette during the American Revolution, "The war between England and her child of the West."

By his own account, Audubon took after his father, both in appearance and disposition: "My father and I were of the same height and stature, say about five feet ten inches, erect, and with muscles of steel; his manners were those of a most polished gentleman, for those and his natural understanding had been carefully improved both by observation and self-education. In temper we much resembled each other also, being warm, irascible, and at times violent; but it was like the blast of a hurricane, dreadful for a time, then calm almost instantly returned."

Despite the rather ruff-looking portrait that Audubon provides of his farther, he grew up in exceptional comfort. In fact his first vivid memory from France was of their pet monkey deliberately killing their pet parrot as it squawked for its morning meal: "I was tranquilized, the monkey was forever afterward chained, and Mignonne buried with all the pomp of a cherished lost one."

While Aududon's father insisted that he learn the value of hard work and perseverance from a young age, it was perhaps Audubon's stepmother who won out in the early years: "My stepmother, who was devotedly attached to me (she had no children of her own), far too much for my own good, was desirous that I should be brought up to live and die like a gentleman. She therefore completely spoiled me, hid my faults, boasted to every one of my youthful merits, and worse than all, said frequently in my presence that I was the handsomest boy in France."

It was assumed that Audubon would follow in his fathers footsteps and serve either as an officer in the French military or as an engineer. In addition to his normal schooling, he was afforded private tutors in mathematics, geometry, drawing, geography, and fencing. "My father being mostly absent on duty, my mother suffered me to do as I pleased; it was therefore not to be wondered at that, instead of applying closely to me studies, I preferred associating with boys of my age and disposition, who were more fond of going in search of birds' nests, fishing, or shooting...Thus almost every day, instead of going to school when I ought to have gone, I usually made for the fields, where I spent the the day; my little basket went with me, filled with good eatables, and when I returned home, during either winter or summer, it was replenished with what I called curiosities, such as birds' nests, birds' eggs, curious lichens, flowers of all sorts, and pebbles gathered along the shore of some rivulet."

Thus we can see that curiosity and love for nature beginning to grow in young Audubon, perhaps at the expense of other subjects. "The first time my father returned from sea, my room exhibited quite a show, and on entering it he was so pleased to see my various collections that he complimented me on my taste for such things. When he inquired what else I had done, and I, like a culprit, hung my head, he left me without saying another word."

That's all for this week. Tune in next Wednesday for the beginning of John J. Audubon's adventures.
In the mean time, super bonus points to whoever can identify this bird engraved on the cover:

Autumn Staples

2011-11-28T13:49:00.001-07:00

Visit any Phoenix pond between October and May, and you're likely to see 3 kinds of waterfowl. Mallards are year-round residents and are always well-represented. American Coots are also found throughout the year, but their numbers swell quite noticeably in the fall and winter months. In my experiences, the third most common waterfowl, and certainly the most numerous migrant, is the Ring-Necked Duck. I seldom take Mallard pictures anymore, but the Coots and Ring-Necks provide some difficult photographic challenges, and I always find them to be interesting subjects.

With the stark contrast between the dark head and yellow eye, and also between the black and white on the bill, the Ring-Necked Duck provides a significant challenge in getting the proper exposure. Too much light and you lose the detail in the eye and in the white stripes. Too little light and you lose the detail on the head, neck, and tip of the bill. With the proper angles, lighting, and exposure compensation, you can capture all of the facial contrasts, as well as the subtle purple iridescence of the head, and reveal what a visually complicated bird the Ring-Necked Duck really is.

Waterfowl often provide excellent photographic opportunities for a number of reasons. They tend to be larger, slow moving (except in flight), and not especially skittish. The physical aspects of their surroundings also provide for a fun photographic environment. Capturing the bird's reflection always adds another dimension to the image, and it's also pretty cool to capture the water coming off the bird, or congealing on its back.

This angle here afforded me a rare opportunity to actually see part of that infamous neck ring. I've often thought that Ring-Billed Duck would be the more appropriate label, and maybe someday I'll get enough signatures for a congressional overturn of the official name. When visible, the ring is a nice sort of cherry wood brown, providing a slight interim color between the black breast and dark purple on the head.

If you take enough pictures of a bird, eventually it'll have to blink! Generally they're much better about not blinking in pictures (especially compared to people!), and in fact it's pretty cool when you can catch them in the act. Like many waterbirds, the Ring-Necked Duck has a transparent eyelid. I assume this lets them see underwater, to an extent, without overly exposing their eyes to the murk.

By happy coincidence, this nearby Coot was in a blinking mood as well. I like how the closed eye, along with the leaning posture and bill slightly ajar, make this Coot look like its swimming in ecstasy.

Coot beaks present a similar problem to the Ring-Necked Ducks'. They're an alabaster white, with a bit of black. The Coot's slate-black body demands plenty of light to catch the details, but then, as you can see here, the beak often gets whitewashed.

It's a piercing red eye. When combined with the red shield on the forehead, it gives these birds a somewhat dinosauric look. In my opinion, their 'chirbb' call is also somewhat reptilian, as are their feet. Despite these interesting features, Coots are pretty mild birds. It's always fun and calming to observe them dinking around the city ponds.

They're not exotic, but these reliable pond squatters are always around to provide an easy and entertaining birding outlet for the urban birder.

Thanksgiving Fun

2011-11-27T13:32:00.001-07:00

It was a great Thanksgiving week! Maria's family came down from Pennsylvania to visit, and so with them we shared the natural beauty of Arizona along with turkey and pie. There were not many birding opportunities throughout the week, but we still had some great outdoor excursions in the beautiful autumn weather.

Perhaps feeling a bit heavy, we decided to hike Camelback Mountain Friday morning, and later stopped by the DBG to get a feel for the Sonoran Desert scenery. Maria's family was very surprised to see the mountains contained within the city limits, and were very appreciative of the close proximity of so many neat natural features. Being a long-time Phoenix resident, I had come to take these sorts of things fore-granted, so it was great to see some of these Phoenix landmarks with that new perspective.

The south face of Camelback overlooks Arcadia and the Phoenician resort, but on a clear day you can see all the way out past Tempe, into Mesa and Gilbert. The change in elevation is pretty incredible given the close proximity of all the developments.

After some delicious reuben sandwiches, we rendezvoused with Maria's parents at the DBG for a more stylized exhibit of the desert flora. We set out around 3pm, not exactly a good time for birding, but the goal this time was a more in-depth examination of all the eccentric plant life in display--stuff I usually ignore unless it's hosting a bird.

The red fairy dusters were popular among the butterflies, and we saw lots of other interesting species in the wildflower gardens.

Waiting for us outside was a rather grumpy looking female Costa's Hummingbird. She looked a bit like she had been stood up on a date.

The Verdin is a desert specialist, and one of the few birds you can count on seeing at any time throughout the day. I didn't get many pictures that day, but I like here how, even from 30 feet away, the yellow head is catching the afternoon sunlight so well. It's unusual to see those colors so conspicuously with the naked eye.

Cacti have the reputation for being nasty neighbors, but these century plants have a pointy pension for piercing as well. Like many desert plants, they're beautiful to see, and less beautiful to touch.

There are certain areas in the DBG where the cactus has run wild. Like a den of snakes or some tentacled monster, these cactus patches swarm over any open space and other vegetation. Just looking at these prickly piles makes my skin start to itch.

Along with the Verdin and the Cactus Wren, the European Starling is another guaranteed sighting at the DBG. Of course, they're a guaranteed sighting just anywhere else, but it's nice to see them when pursuing your minimum 20-Bird daily requirement!

Close Encantos of the Bird Kind

2011-11-21T06:00:00.004-07:00

I managed to squeeze in some early morning birding at Encanto Park on Sunday. Since I had been thinking I wouldn't be able to go birding at all this weekend, everything I saw and photographed was already a bonus. The first bird of the morning was a handsome White-Crowned Sparrow. This was a peculiar sighting in that there were maybe a dozen White-Crowned sparrows in this little area, but only two of them had their full adult plumage. I have never seen such a high ratio of juveniles to adults.

They all kept pretty low to the ground, so when this adult flew up into the light for 5 minute's peace, I quickly snapped the picture and carried on my way.

It's been bugging me a little bit that I did not yet have good Grackle pictures. You can find the birds just about anywhere, but it can be hard to find good specimens for photography. You don't want any of the mangy birds that are usually missing feathers or hanging out in dirty/unphotogenic places. You also want to get the light at the right angle so you can showcase the Grackle's impressive iridescence. This bold contender was occupying a little rock in one of the golf course ponds. Although the yellow of the eye is a bit blown by the excessive light, I'm keeping the photo as it marks an important milestone. This is my first action shot of a defecating bird!

A nearby female provided another photo-op. She was more composed, or at least more polite in front of the camera. However, a few theatrics wouldn't have hurt. The female Grackle is perhaps one of the most dull birds you'll see. To be fair, she has a bit of the iridescent green on her shoulders and back, but it's hard for me to get past the monochromatic brown. I imagine part of my hang-up is that I usually see Grackles in dirty places, which makes the darker colors seem all the more corrupted, and it's hard to shake that stigma. Of course, there's more to a bird than its color, and I was glad to finally have a pair of Great-Tailed Grackles added to my photographic collection.

Seeing this male Anna's Hummingbird in all of his scintillating glory was definitely the highlight of the day. I spotted the flash of red atop a bottle tree and snapped. This first picture was taken probably 15 feet from the base of the trunk, with the treetop being another 20 feet high (my mathematical wife tells me that means it was around 25 feet away). I'm including this initial picture just to give an idea of how incredibly eye-catching his ruby helmet was in the morning light, even from a distance.

This precocious Anna's started to fly rounds between a couple of the nearby trees and bushes, stopping briefly to sound his trilling call, take a breath, and then quickly move on to his next checkpoint. I was very fortunate to have him stop close by and give me a great look at his broadside. It's amazing to me, given the previous coloration, the total lack of visible red when he was perpendicular to the sun. Looking at this picture alone, I'd never otherwise assume this Hummer had anything but dark grayish/greenish feathers on his face.

I was unlucky that he did not turn fully into the sun (just as well, it probably would have been blinding). Even this slight turn of his head, maybe 20 degrees, filled his face with color. I love that even the little side patch behind the eye lights up. The scaly green back and fluffy leggings alone would make this a beautiful bird, but with that scarlet headgear it's almost an overload!

I was leaving the park feeling pretty great. From no birding at all to a pooping Grackle and a super cool Hummingbird, it was already a great Sunday. So it was icing on the cake when this Harris's Hawk landed on the divider for the adjacent golf course driving range. He let out his recognizable, hoarse "scrawwww" and declared this telephone pole to be solely his property. I see Harris's hawks a lot on the east side of town, but this was my first ever in west Phoenix.

Pretty Things

2011-11-19T12:57:00.001-07:00

I won't be birding this weekend, so instead I'm looking over miscellaneous recent photos and sharing them here. First, for your approval, I submit here the fattest ground squirrel I've ever seen.

I've done earlier posts concerning bird tongues and bird feet. Now I have a couple photos of fluffy and fuzzy fannies. I just don't really know what to do with them...Bonus points though if you can name the two species shown here.

Perhaps the prettiest desert specialists you'll find in Arizona, Rosy-Faced Lovebirds are always great to see, even if they're eating your lawn.

This hummingbird (female Anna's?) was not the most colorful, but the soft lighting and salmon-colored flowers made for a great bokeh. Apart from featuring a female, there's something overtly feminine about this picture, and it's one of my favorite hummingbird photos.

Beautiful Birds at the Botanical Gardens

2011-11-13T04:00:00.000-07:00

I had been having some difficulty getting quality photos at the DBG lately. The colorful birds seemed to be taking a break these last couple weeks, but they came out for the Saturday morning bird-walk with gusto! There were some surprising sightings to begin the day, including a Loggerhead Shrike and a Peregrine Falcon. Only a few minutes into the walk and I was already satisfied. At long last, I got some clear pictures of the Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher!

It had quite the fuzzy fanny, and gave me a good look at the diagnostic white feathers on the tail. If there's white below, it's the Blue-Gray, and not the similar looking Black-Tailed.

Another highlight of the day was this male Cardinal. He stopped by to provide a nice contrast with the blue of the Gnatcatchers and the dim lighting of the overcast sky. It's unusual to see Cardinals this time of year in Arizona, and this came right after I had seen a female at the Water Ranch. Birding synchronicity strikes again!

He enjoyed the security of this Arizona rosewood tree and basked in the confidence that HE was the most colorful things at the Gardens today.

As we made a circuit around the Gardens, the Orange-Crowned Warblers and Kinglets began to emerge from the chaparral. There were plenty of Starlings and Mockingbirds , and one particularly audacious Curve-Billed Thrasher. He must be the sheriff in these parts. I watched him chase away two Mockers, a Cactus Wren, and even stand his ground against that the most heinous of nature's enemies...MAN!!! dun Dun DUN!

The other desert critters cowered before the awesome presence and authority of this mighty Thrasher!

It was a brief but brilliant morning of birding that both restored my confidence in the DBG and the payoffs of persistence (this was maybe the 12th time I've chased after Gnatcatchers for a picture). As a part of the DBG routine, I stopped by the Papago Ponds on the way home. The Wigeons and the Pintails weren't around today, but there was a peculiar Green Heron hanging out on one of the drainage valves.

His feet were holding on in such a way that it looked like he was trying to open the valve. With his efforts in vain, he turned a beady-eyed face towards the heavens, and contemplated his small, small existence in the universe. I like what this head position does with the rusty coloration on the sides. It looks like the world's most righteous ruddy mustache, gently cascading down his pointy face.

Something else I've been wondering about the Green Herons--where do their necks go? Other Egrets and Herons tend to keep their necks in the s-shaped wimple, but the Green Heron, like the Yellow and Black-Crowned Night Herons, can just kind of withdraw it. Cool birds, and curious too.

A Weekend at the Ranch

2011-11-11T19:15:00.001-07:00

This morning stayed overcast. The temperature held at a nice 60 degrees and the cloud cover stayed in place all day. This made for some GREAT birding, and some lousy photography. I saw three new birds today: a Northern Harrier, a Ruby-Crowned Kinglet, and a Ruddy Duck, and I've got the blurry photos to prove it!

After dropping Maria off at the airport for the weekend (that's not where she's spending her weekend, mind you), I needed to rebound. I got to the Gilbert Water Ranch nice and early, waiting for a beautiful sunrise and some avian action. The birds started to stir, but the sun just never really came up. A thick layer of clouds had rolled in during the night, and even as I write this now, they hold the valley in a dusky lighting. The birds and the birders loved the shade, and they were all over the place. The camera didn't like it so much, and anything more than ten feet away was going to be a blurry capture.

Nonetheless, the first bird of the day was a new one. This female Ruddy Duck was sitting, unescorted, at the dead center of the main pond. She seemed a bit surly, perhaps worried that the other ducks were prettier. While I assured her this was not the case, she still stayed well away and free from further scrutiny.

There were reports of a Eurasian Wigeon hidden somewhere among the dabbling ducks. Even though the Marsh Wrens kept me company in my stake-out, I didn't see any Eurasians. Soon, my attention moved on from the ducks to the local Coots, as it often does...

I've been taking lots of Coot photos lately, and this one may be my favorite so far, even though there are no Coot feet to be seen! This is the sort of pose you see Swans making in an ice sculpture, not so much Coots in a muddy pond. They're just full of surprises.

The desert shrubs that border the pond played host to the usual populations of Verdin, Abert's Towhee, and Sparrows. These chilly days have now brought the charming addition of Kinglets to the Phoenix area. With their soft yellows, bold eye-rings, and flashes of ruby and gold, they add a fluid vibrancy to the vegetation as it turns sallow in the dry autumn chill.

The Kinglets surfaced off and on throughout the morning, and at long last I had one perch just in front of me. Time seemed to slow down as the autofocus honed in. Kinglets can't hold still for more than 0.014 seconds though, and with the lighting so poor there was little chance of increasing shutter speed. As I pressed the button, the inevitable happened. The Kinglet had a spasm and then promptly flew off. See the crown? New bird number 2!

The always-handsome Lincoln's Sparrows could be seen flying in and out of the drying foliage at the water's edge. They never quite came out in the open, but I love that they have all of those autumn colors represented so well in their feathers and their choice of perches.

The birds were moving around pretty quick this morning, but this Black Phoebe seemed a bit slow in the head. It wasn't doing very well at catching flies, and it seemed to be following and trying to imitate a group of Lesser Goldfinches. I was able to take advantage of his stupor to get close enough for some better photos of this usually skittish bird.

Space cadet

This female Northern Harrier was the third new bird of the day. Seeing this streamlined raptor flying low over the drying grass was totally unexpected. Even at a considerable distance, it was clear this was no Harris's or Red-Tailed Hawk. She didn't seem to be hunting so much as just terrorizing the Sparrows. She always kept her distance from me, but she continued to make her strafing runs throughout the morning.

The white rump and faintly outline facial disks, along with the thick, almost mane-like neck all set this female Harrier apart from any other bird of prey.

The Osprey is a more common raptor at the Water Ranch and it is equally impressive. She spent a while on one of the constructed perches out in the middle of the ponds, but when she seemed to have a mind for breakfast, I began to really begrudge the gloomy weather. She's pictured here retreating from some grackles. I always wondered why raptors let themselves get bullied by such birds. Maybe it's just not worth their energy to retaliate, but do they ever think of their reputation?

After chasing these predators around the ponds, I decided to pick a spot and sit for a while. I hid myself behind a couple granite boulders and waited to see birds came along to feed on the mesquite.

The Yellow-Rumped Warblers have to be some of the most commonly seen birds now in these late weeks of autumn. They outnumber the Mourning Doves at the Water Ranch, and would probably give the Eurasian Sparrows a run for their money. They typically like to stay hidden away in the trees and feast on insects, but every now and then they'll come down to ground level and forage.

This unfortunate Curve-Billed Thrasher was hanging out by the picnic area, and his unusual gait caught my eye. His right leg was missing just below the joint, and a large ball of scar tissue or infected tissue or maybe even a tumor had sealed it off. Despite this handicap, he was pretty mobile. He probably has one heck of a story to tell.

It's always a pleasure to see Say's Phoebes. They've got a bit of bulk to them, they're colorful, and they're pretty confident to boot. They're comfortable on the ground, in the trees, and hovering anywhere in between.

When this female cardinal flew into a nearby tree, I briefly exalted in the thought that my search for a Pyrrhuloxia had finally ended. No such luck, but the female Cardinal is still a beautiful bird, and they're increasingly uncommon this time of year.

The Red-Wing Blackbirds seem to really congregate as the weather cools down, and I've been pursuing a good Blackbird photo in earnest now that they're plentiful in Phoenix. It's a tricky task to catch the black feathers and eye, while also showcasing the brilliant red and yellow shoulders. This picture came out a bit blurry, but I really liked the pointedness and sort of flame-like quality that the blur adds to the bird here. It was a bit of inadvertent artsiness.

There's been a funny trend to my recent birding outings in that the last bird I always see is a Snowy Egret. Solitary and composed birds, they usually make for good photographic subjects, and their methodical wading has a very calming effect on the observer. It was a lovely day of birding and a great day for the List. The Water Ranch never disappoints.

Power Birding

2011-11-10T17:32:00.001-07:00

I fit a 15 minute birding bout in this evening at Encanto Park. The Lovebirds, Grackles, Pigeons, and Mallards were all over, and the visiting Ring-Necked Ducks were also well represented. The surprise of the evening was seeing a Brown Creeper. I did not have my ISO adjusted for the dimming light, and he had moved on before I got a picture, but it was nice to glimpse. Brown Creepers are cool birds and ones I forget about until they pop up here and there, just to remind you of their humble existence before they move on, resurfacing from time to time and seldom when I expect it.
There was also an interesting Gild Woodpecker hanging around, who was catching the light on his undersides in a way that gave him a yellow belly. To make a birding joke, he was trying to become a Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker.

There's a little gang of Embden Geese at the park. They don't make for exciting viewing, but I like the way their neck feathers congeal, and their big blue eyes.

It should hold me over until the weekend.

I believe the term used these days is 'Epic Fail'

2011-11-08T07:49:00.000-07:00

I went out to the Tres Rios preserve again this Sunday, hoping to get some nice footage to post during the week. For the first time in my short bird-photographing career, I was totally thwarted! I don't know if it was just impatience, but the birds all seemed extraordinarily skittish, and I did not come away with a single good photo. I'm sure this is all part of the job, but it's still pretty surprising.
Anyhow, I hope to get something nice this weekend. In the mean time, I took a few blurry pictures of some Stilts next to a rancid-smelling dairy farm on the drive home.
: ::sigh:: : Ya can't win em' all...