Desert Birds for Dessert

The sorrow, the pain, the tragedy...this past weekend was not a birding weekend. I did spend a weeknight searching another deserty area around twilight in the hopes that I might discover Elf and Western-Screech, as well as Common Poorwill, closer to home (especially COPO, since I still need a picture), which took me to the Phoenix Mountain Preserve. But first, here's a miscellaneous Gray Vireo shot 'cause you never know WHAT is coming next on this site! Whew!

Although it had a healthy and heavily vocal Lesser Nighthawk population (and, in my opinion, the vocalizations of this bird really do not get enough recognition for how fun they are), it was once again a strike out with three nocturnal targets. It was also a little late in the season to hope for other migrant Owls. It was a very pinkish evening though, made me get in touch with my feminine side and what not.

With so much desert habitat here I know that ELOW and WESO are there, and I didn't tarry long into dark, but suffice it to say they're not as readily detectable as they are along the Salt River, which defeats the point of finding them closer to central Phoenix. What is readily detectable at the PMP is Gilded Flicker. 

Since this bird's plumage characteristics also occur in one or the other of the two widely distributed Northern Flicker populations, Gilded doesn't get a lot of special recognition by non-listers, but in many ways this saguaro-squatting fanatic is one of Arizona's most precious "specialty" (near-specialty) birds.

It doesn't have the eye-cataching appeal of a Red-faced Warbler or White-eared Hummingbird, nor the ghostly reputation of a Le Conte's Thrasher, but the GIFL, like these other birds, is also pretty hard to come by in North America outside of Arizona. They are where the saguaros are, and the saguaros aren't  everywhere. Of course, saguaros serve as multi-story tenement housing for all kinds of animals, and even multiple GIFLs, so if one finds a few big and gnarly saguaros, the GIFLs will be around.



There will also be Flycatchers, Ash-throated Flycatchers. Known in some of the more puerile birding circles as the "White-breasted Pee-pee Pants Flycatcher," this birds recognizable calls from the creosote scrub are ever-present vindication of the decision to go birding on a weekday.

Sometimes ATFLs look to their left as well, so here is a picture of that occurrence for superlatively thorough documentation of the species's behavior; making note of the head direction is something one can look for when discerning myiarchus species, though there may be better indicators as well. 

Going Han Solo At San Pedro

As a part of my trip to the Huachuca Mountains, I paid a visit to the San Pedro Riparian Conservation Area, a nice strip of greenery just west of Tombstone. The target species for this area was Yellow-breasted Chat and Yellow-billed Cuckoo, and while the trip was ultimately a success, it was a struggle. Heading up Miller Canyon, the trails and the area are pretty straightforward. There is lots of room to roam in the San Pedro grasslands and chaparral, and unfortunately when I'm going 'Han Solo' (alone), getting lost becomes a real problem, and it's exacerbated when I'm driving. After about an hour of detours and switch-backs and run-ins with the increasingly suspicious Arizona border patrol agents, I eventually settled down around the Charleston Bridge in the San Pedro area, and got down to the business of birding.

I parked near a trail head northeast of the bridge and was greeted by the day's first bird, which had parked himself around the same time. It's hard not to love Ash-throated Flycatchers, especially when they come to great you at your car.



I could only interpret this bird's visit and acknowledgment as a good omen. Acting as the hand of fate, he soon flew to an adjacent tree and directed me in the best direction for my quarry. Such a good sport and always eager to help, he totally didn't mind that I was there to see other, more glamorous birds. Ash-throated Flycatcher: Man's second-best friend.

The Charleston River (more of a crippled stream) runs through the middle of the San Pedro refuge, supporting a green strip of willows and cottonwoods amidst the surrounding desert scrub. Though it's no Mississippi, this rangy river provides some prime real estate for Yellow-billed Cuckoos and other riparian passerines.

The knocking calls of the Cuckoos drew me back and forth across the water, and though these elusive birds stayed high in the canopy, I was able to sneak in a few glimpses. At least from this angle you can kinda see the tear-drop white patches on the tail, one of the Cuckoo's more notable features.

The Yellow-billed Cuckoos are not the only canopy dwellers in the summer time; birds like this aptly named Summer Tanager also add some color and verve to the tree-top goings on. Tanagers and Orioles are some of the few reasons to look forward to an Arizona summer, but they can be very stubborn photographic subjects.

There's plenty of red to see lower down in the trees too, principally provided by the stern and stunning Vermillion Flycatchers. Northern Cardinals and House Finches do their part as well, but the blazing red on this flycatcher is incomparable.

The riverbanks are lined with green, but behind the green grows the brown grass and shrub which, thoough less pleasing to the eye, still provides habitat to other interesting birds. I believe this is a female Lazuli Bunting, demonstrating here why her coloration has its own advantages, even if it has a weaker aesthetic than the male's.

The female Bunting's plumage was muted and she stayed very quiet too. The same cannot be said for the more boisterous and beautiful Yellow-breasted Chats, which sang out their territorial claims from atop the mesquite and ironwood trees on the perimeter of the grasslands.

For a long time I had been wanting to see America's largest Warbler and the Yellow-breasted Chats did not disappoint. The San Pedro preserve doesn't have quite the same 'wow' factor as the canyons around southeast Arizona, but it does drawn in some specialty birds that you won't find higher up in the mountains. It's definitely worth a visit, just make sure you have a map when you go!

Transfixed at Tres Rios

 For once I decided to be a really dedicated birder and actually try to be at my destination at sunrise. I was successful in that enterprise, but was regretting the choice of wardrobe as the temperature did not rise above 40 degrees for an hour, and I was in shorts. But it was another fantastic morning of birding at the Wetlands nonetheless. Pops met up with me a little later and between the two of us we saw sixty-six species and each got two lifers.

The day started off in an oddly presidential fashion. One of the last streets one crosses while heading down to Tres Rios is Van Buren. While heading south past Van Buren I was driving behind someone with a Washington license plate, and when I parked and exited the vehicle, I was greeted by my first Tres Rios bird, a Lincoln's Sparrow.

Pretty auspicious beginning eh? Well, things only got better. Roosting Great Blue Herons and American White Pelicans maintained constant air traffic up and down the pedestrian stretch, while the handsome Yellow-rumped Warblers and Orange-Crowned Warblers abounded in the low-canopy trees. There were still some wintering ducks on display, including a pair of Buffleheads, six Cinnamon Teal, and this single male Blue-Winged Teal--a species which I don't see enough.

Certainly the most conspicuous residents at Tres Rios were the Red-Winged Blackbirds. There were some Yellow-Headed too, but this time the Red-Wings stole the show. Their numbers continue to increase by the week, and the males are growing steadily more boisterous and belligerent. Of course, this means great viewing for the non-partisan bystander. From 6:30am to about 11am there was a constant cacophony of caterwauling Blackbirds. It was lovely at times, annoying at others, but unfalteringly impressive. Maybe the females felt the same way?

The males would only pause to catch their breath, maybe shift their weight, and then begin the chorus once more. Bulkiness and Braggadocio: the key to a Blackbird's success.



It wasn't just the loud birds out and about either. Of course, Sparrows and Finches abounded in the more arid regions of the trail. The Common Yellowthroats still taunted me with their ephemeral presence, and Common Gallinules slipped in and out of the reedy bank with deliberate silence.

If one really wants to see everything offered at the Tres Rios habitat, one must zig-zag between the river bank on the north side of the path and the woody margin on the south side. While the Red-Winged Blackbirds and Song Sparrows dominated the north side, more muted birds like this Ash-Throated Flycatcher quietly went about their morning routine across the trail.

It was great to reacquaint myself with this confident and composed myiarchus flycatcher. They're often described as a common bird, but I do not see them very frequently. And seeing this bird up close, especially since I had never photographed it before, gave me the same sense of jubilation as when I first discovered it years ago.

But the Ash-Throated was just an appetizer for the awesome flycatcher to come. After rendezvousing with Pops and chasing after some Yellow-Rumped Warblers, we saw a Kingbird perched on the retaining fence across the water.

At first glance, it looked like a Western Kingbird--a cool but fairly common sighting once the weather warms. But, there were also lingering reports of a Tropical Kingbird in the area, and that alone merited a second look. The Kingbird alighted from the fence and treated us to a fine show of airmanship, capturing and subduing a large grasshopper for its brunch. As it resettled and we were able to a closer look...Sure enough! The darker yellow breast extended almost to the chin, and the tail was noticeably notched, whereas the Western Kingbird tail is squared at the end.

"So...come here often?"

New Bird! Very cool. Unfortunately, not all of the new birds for the day were so lively. I still have not seen a wild Barn Owl (nor, more embarrassingly, a Screech Owl). About 3/4 of a mile down the Tres Rios waterway I stumbled upon this once-mighty specimen, deceased for some time. A terrible shame.

Despite that morbid moment, there was still some great birding to be done. Pops and I had earlier been treated to fly-by sightings of Black-Bellied Whistling Ducks (new bird) and White-Faced Ibis. The birds were flying low over the water and disappeared into one of the occasional holding ponds. When we caught up, there was a representative of each species standing vigil on the cement walkway. 

With American Coots and Black-Necked Stilts also present, it made for a very cosmopolitan gathering.   The Whistling Ducks had been on the must-see/should-have-seen list for a while. They were far more beautiful than I expected, with their neatly colored and cropped plumage complemented by perfect posture.

It was a little bit unfortunate to be photographing perpendicular to the sun, but our view of the birds was most excellent. It was great to finally wet our Whistle. Oh and the Ibis? Yeah they're pretty great too. I'd never personally gotten such a good look at the glossy sheen, like mother-of-pearl.

But I think the award for best bird of the day goes to the Whistling Duck, even if the Tropical Kingbird is the rare one. It's unusual for me to see a new bird and get some presentable photos in the same instance. Additionally, the duck was totally stunning, and judging from that oozing-with-self-respect-posture, I'd say he knows it. Also, I guess the Grackle is cool...

With the afternoon getting underway, it was time to eject ourselves from the bird world and make our way back to the cars. Of course, we were birding on the way back, but perhaps the most interesting find was this antique television. It only had one channel, but it was a good one.

We'll have to return to Tres Rios soon for some more outstanding, commercial-free bird watching. I daresay the birding show at Tres Rios is an excellent program, viewable every day.