Take it to the Barnyard

This summer's great birding adventures have drawn to a close and work--preparing for the next school year with a panoply of meetings and seminars and meminars and seemittings--is now underway. Of course, the next thing one has to do when the great birding trips are over is start planning new ones, but even that cannot fully dull the pain of late summer birding doldrums in central Arizona. So at a time like this, when there's not a great opportunity for even in-state birding, it back to the birding chores, tying up loose ends closer to home.

One such loose end was the Barn Owl out at Base Meridian WMA. Just west of the superlatively birdy Tres Rios Wetlands, B&M WMA is a pretty reliable spot for Barn Owls each year, in fact that's how I've ticked my BAOW year bird for the last 3 years or so. In fact, this is the only place I'm actually, clearly seen living Barn Owls (I have a knack for finding dead ones). In fact, this bird has always been kind of a pain because I've never gotten photos. In fact, even if they were crappy, that eluding needed to end.
So this late July birding chore was to finally photograph the skittish Barn Owl at B&M WMA. I'll be straight up though, I got there later in the morning, around 10am. The birds were no longer roosting, and the photos are very poor. This is entirely for posterity.

Although I only had one bird, a pair of BAOWs successfully raised at least one chick here this year, and others have had great looks at these reclusive birds. I didn't get great looks; I got blurry flying-away shots, but it had to be done.




B&M is also a great spot for Clapper Rail (a very tough bird in central AZ), Least Bittern, and Yellow-billed Cuckoo. I arrived too late in the day to have much of a shot at the skulking riparian birds, but a couple of Cuckoos were still braving the heat. Well, not exactly braving it.



Not that I can blame them. It was around 110°F and I could feel my overly Irish mantel burning even through my shirt, so I didn't stay out very long either. The birds were more active near the B&M run off, where the scant remains/returning run-off of the Salt River are finally allowed to flow al naturale.

Some of Arizona's best birders and bird bloggers are rocking it up in the White Mountains right now, notching sweet state birds like Pine Grosbeak, American Dipper, and Gray Jay. Alas that I could not join, but in my limited time available here there's perhaps one trip left in the tank, one trip to the southeastern corner of the state, one trip to find some Mexican Chiquitas and a blunted Hawk. Hopefully the Chiricahuas produce, more on that soon.

Hold the Door! A Late Summer Rarity Chase in Patagonia and the Santa Ritas

These last few weeks have brought some crazy birding in Arizona. The end of August saw a dead Hawaiian Petrel in Yuma--only the third record for the lower forty-eight states--a Brown Booby in Havasu, a Blue-footed Booby in Patagonia, Berylline, White-eared, Plain-capped Starthroat, and Lucifer Hummingbirds, Buff-collared Nightjars, Black-capped Gnatcatchers, Painted Buntings, and now, most recently, a Sinaloa Wren in the Huachucas. There are so many hotspots in Arizona already, and the end of August is prime time for migrants and vagrants. I was having a nice enough time shore birding in Phoenix (yes, it is possible!), but the allure of some of these rarities was too much. 

Several of my birding acquaintances were able to get down to Patagonia for the Booby, and they also picked up some great Hummingbirds, along with the August seasonal sparrows, Buntings, and so much other good stuff. Check out their tales and photos here and here.

I missed the first trip but was aching to get down there for the seasonal birds and any lingering vagrants. I was fortunate to get the time then last weekend and also fortunate to have some company from a co-worker who wanted to explore the beautiful terrain of southeast AZ. I knew I wouldn't get anywhere near the fabulous haul of birds and photos that my predecessors had, but it could be another ten years before a Blue-footed Booby shows up in Arizona!

The plan was to hit Patagonia Lake early--which meant leaving really early--and then the surrounding countryside, including the San Rafael Grasslands, before stopping by Madera Canyon and doing some feeder-watching before heading north back towards Phoenix.

Upon arriving at Patagonia Lake around 6am, we had singing Cassin's and Botteri's Sparrows in the grasslands, but the first birds we really saw were Vultures, prodigious amounts of Vultures. Perhaps because of their disgusting behaviors, repugnant appearance, and unscrupulous feeding habits Vultures are regarded as ill omens in many cultures and literature. Was our trip doomed from the beginning? Would this effort be the death of us?
Eh, probably not, and admiring the Vultures from a distance wasn't too bad either.

We walked around the Patagonia Lake visitor center, listening to Ash-throated Flycatchers and Sparrows going about their morning business. Some fly-by Cormorants gave us palpitations as we staked out the Patagonia shore, before we finally saw a large, brown and white bird over the tree line.

Yes!!! ABA Code 4 Blue-footed Booby.
It's a juvenile; its feet aren't even that blue, and it's tail primaries look like they're in terrible shape, but none of that diminished the sighting. We watched the young and hopelessly lost Booby plunge-dive several times, while I tried to snap photos as it made determined passes along the lake.
We arrived none too soon either, as it seems the Booby reports have dried up since last Sunday. The jokes to be made with this bird's name are legion, so I won't indulge, but suffice it to say this was one of the breast sightings I've had in Arizona this year.

After ogling the Booby, we spent some time exploring the mesquite bosque around Patagonia Lake. We had several calling Northern Beardless Tyrannulets in the mesquite, North America's smallest Flycatcher and one of the longest-named. They weren't exactly cooperative, but any Flycatcher will hold my attention and fascination as long as it's in view.

With all the recent, above average rainfall, much of the Patagonia lowlands and riparian area was flooded and inaccessible to tennis shoe-wearing dorks such as myself. We walked the ever-lovely Sycamore Creek trail a little ways, enjoying Vermillion Flycatcher and Bridled Titmice, along with a couple of Sora and Wilson's Warblers, but soon we ran out of dry ground.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, we next headed to Harshaw Canyon and the San Rafael Grasslands, stopping at the famous Patagonia rest stop along the way for Thick-billed Kingbirds, and collecting Cassin's, Western, and Tropical on telephone wires in between. A female Painted Bunting in the creek behind the Paton House was also a treat. Unfortunately, I was having some camera issues and couldn't get my focus operating for the Kingbirds, but knowing they'd be around next year, I checked my list and headed on to the next larger target for the day.

Although the drive through Harshaw Canyon can be pretty treacherous after inclement weather, our trek to the San Rafael Grasslands was very pleasant, as were the handful of Eastern Bluebirds--another state bird, like the Painted Bunting--that we spied along the way.
Google Maps directions underestimate the distance of the Harshaw Canyon drive, and things aren't exactly clearly signed. But just as the tiniest hint of worry started to set in, Harshaw Canyon finally opened to this:

There are so many fabulous, diverse habitats in Arizona, but one of my favorites is grassland. It's not the most productive birding territory, nor even the most grand (like, say, the Grand Canyon), but the sheer expanses of grass and hills totally transport you, taking you to a tremendously quiet, gentle place, and leaving all anxieties behind. Walking around the grasslands, listening to the occasional trill of Grasshopper Sparrows and seeing nothing, other than mountains, in every direction, was incredibly peaceful. I felt like Julia Roberts in the Sound of Music, or a horse with a lot of cool grass in front of it.

Conveniently enough, Grasshoppers Sparrows were also one of my primary targets for the trip, a species I've been wanting to photograph for a while. The adults weren't overly accommodating, given my pains in getting there, but the ratty, juvenile bird below fortunately forgot how to 'sparrow' for a moment, and stayed perched in the open while I fired away.

After visiting the beautiful expanses of San Rafael, it was time to go see more beautiful birds. Madera Canyon, in the Santa Rita Mountains, is about as good a place for that as any in the nation. Feeders outside the Santa Rita Lodge and Chuparosa Inn have been especially productive with Hummingbird this year, and I was both optimistic and anxious to get a lifer Lucifer's or Berylline Hummingbird.

It's funny how jaded one can become with the riches of Hummingbirds in southeast AZ. We didn't have to wait too long for the Lucifer's Hummingbird to show, but in the meantime I pensively sat and took for granted the Broad-billed, Broad-tailed, Black-chinned, Magnificent, and Rufous Hummers that were warming around the Lodge. They are all great bird too, of course, but they can't hold a candle to the Lucifer's Hummingbird (pun points!).

On the way out of Madera Canyon, the last stop for the day was the Proctor Road loop. Chittering Sparrows and Buntings, along with Orioles and empids, made for nice winding down before the drive back to Phoenix. I was also surprised to see a pair of Yellow-billed Cuckoos in the Mesquite bosque, both because it seemed kind of late in the year (which, it turns out, isn't really the case), and because I almost never see them.

Spending a day down in southeast AZ is always fulfilling, and even while I feel the urge to chase birds less than I did a year ago, the pursuits in Patagonia and Madera were very rewarding.The Brown Booby is still over at Lake Havasu too, so there might just be one more late summer chase. Or two, or three...

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!