Gray Day Heyday

For the second weekend in a row we had lousy weather around Phoenix, though lousy only in how it related to birding. Under any other circumstances I'd welcome the heavy clouds and cool ocean breeze, but Saturday needed to be the day of Vireo hunting, the day I turned previously fleeting sightings of the infamous Gray Vireo into well-documented put-to-bed peace-of-mind no-doubt-about-it tucked-in-with-a-warm-glass-of-milk-(gross) sightings. Despite the weather gods' caprice I headed out to Bushnell Tanks on the Hwy 87 for another date with destiny, another chance to get lucky. This time destiny was going to pay, and to hell with "complimentary" valet parking!

With the cool temperatures and saturated colors the Bushnell site was absolutely gorgeous. It offers some fine riparian habitat, replete with porous old sycamores and cottonwillows. On either side, the rocky hills of the lower Mazatzal Mountains ambled off into the horizon. The juniper scrub dotting their granitic flanks, just now starting to fruit, is perfect for Gray Vireos, and offers fine birding in general.

While walking through the riparian area and heading for the juniper trails, I recorded FOY Hooded Oriole, Olive-sided Flycatcher, Lazuli Bunting, Summer Tanager, and several species of Warbler, as well as Ash-throated Flycatchers and Black-throated Sparrows in the liminal chaparral. Bell's Vireos, as expected, were totally out of control while still being predominantly invisible. A large flock of Lark Sparrows, containing around 30 birds altogether, was an awesome sight as well.

Since the clouds diminished the sun's effects (apart from its propensity to quickly burn my pasty Irish skin), the morning chorus and activity seemed to last much longer than usual. Birds were vocalizing from every bush and canopy, lizards were scuttling around doing lizard things, and bees were going face-deep into the blooming thistle. 'Twas a great morning to be out in the nature.

After enjoying some Cardinals and a Black-headed Grosbeak in the riparian wash, I finally made the commitment to the higher juniper slopes. As expected, the bird sights and sounds diminished. Blue-gray and Black-tailed Gnatcatchers added some beeps, whirrs, and whistles every once and again. Turkey Vultures soaring overhead required constant scanning to pick out the Zone-tailed Hawks I'd heard screeching earlier in the sycamores. At last, I heard the few call notes I'd been waiting for and filled the great soul-sucking void in my life.

I gained some elevation until coming to a stretch of trail, about 1/3 mile up from the divergent riparian wash, which featured several large fruiting junipers and plenty of intermittent scrub in between. First I had one, and then another Gray Vireo singing out its territory from atop their redolent perches.

"Heeey you got me!"

This photo gives a good idea of the Bushnell Tanks habitat. The riparian isn't as extensive as that on the other side of the highway at Sunflower, where the Black Hawks nest, but Bushnell mingles the riparian with the desert scrub stuff nicely, and between those two habitats there are quite a few birds to see.

I continued to follow the Gray Vireo calls on the southeast side of the Bushnell trail for a little while, getting solid looks and great audio of the birds, if not really satisfying photographs. High up on the hills, Black-chinned and Rufous-crowned Sparrows added their voices to the choir, and a low-flying Zone-tailed Hawk put a face to the raucous calling I had heard from the sycamores below.

With a bit of pishing I turned up a third bird, one I new to be separate because the other two were bickering in the same juniper nearby. At long last I had put this semi-nemesis, a seminem, to rest.

Gray Vireo was a bird I neglected for far too long, given that I lived in Phoenix. I only recorded it on my life list last year, noting the call and a quick, flushed glimpse of a bird spending the winter on telegraph trail on South Mountain. The sighting was in no way satisfactory but I had a very tight schedule to keep that day. It continued to bug me. I figured I'd see more around Mt. Ord, and then even went to some juniper scrub sites, such as Oak Flats, where I knew they would be, always coming away with great sightings but now Gray sightings. Now that I wanted this scrub-dweller specifically, I turned up everything else instead, for many weeks in a row.
Finally their increasing sprin-timg numbers pushed the odds enough in my greenhorn favor and I managed to chase this bugger down, getting the soul-satisfying views, some decent shots, and making peace with round-beaked little dope.

Sunflower amidst clouds and rain

It's been a great monsoon this year in Arizona. Every afternoon in late July and parts of August, the heavy clouds gather, often bringing lightning storms and dusty wind. Too often they just make everything dirty without leaving any precious precipitation, but this summer we've been very fortunate in our rainfall. The clouds have been offering evening downpours and often staying through until morning, following up with a.m. showers to keep the desert temperatures comparatively low and the foliage comparatively green. Of course, this does impede birding and photography somewhat, but there's not too much high level birding to be done in Phoenix this time of year, so I won't complain.

Last Friday Pops and I made a trip to Sunflower, which is little more than a turn off from the Hwy-87 with a few houses and a tow truck company. The Sunflower turn-off leads to a section of closed off road, now called the 'Old Beeline Highway' (the 87 is the new one up to Payson). This road is now closed to vehicle access, but pedestrians can walk along and use the vantage point to observe the denizens of Sycamore Creek that runs adjacent to the eastern side of the Old Beeline.
With all of the recent rain, the creek here and at Mesquite Wash, ten miles down the Hwy-87, were flowing at a very good clip.

The well-watered riparian area and the juniper canyons on either side of the Old Beeline Highway make this stretch of Sunflower excellent nesting habitat for both Zone-tailed and Common Black Hawks, and these were our target birds, along with the optimistic hope for hearing or seeing a Yellow-billed Cuckoo on the side.
For much of the drive up to Sunflower (about fifty minutes), the percussion of raindrops and streaks of lightning gave us quite a show. It was still raining when we began birding on foot, so I initially left the camera in the car. Yellow Warblers, Bell's Vireos, Blue Grosbeaks, Ash-throated Flycatchers, and Cassin's Kingbirds were all very common and audible on the walk, even with the rainfall. Phainopeplas still dotted many of the canyon juniper bushes while Gnatcatchers flitted around in the understory.



The creek continued to swell with runoff and the cloud cover made for a very pleasant walk, enhanced by not lugging around heavy camera gear. That nicety was shattered though, when we looked up into one of the many Arizona sycamores and saw a large mass of sticks. Not only was it a nest, but there was the single silhouette of a raptor chick sitting pretty. Alas, it was mostly obscured when I later returned with the lens.
Which species was it, Zone-tailed or Common Black Hawk? This was a matter of no small discussion, a matter that has still not been fully resolved.



As we were walking along the road maybe one hundred feet up from the nest, a Common Black Hawk spooked from a sycamore and made a beeline towards the nest area. At the time, this seemed to confirm that the nest was Black Hawk property, but that wouldn't be the end of the story.
After we were treated to calling Cassin's Kingbirds, who were also prone to bouts of aerial bellicosity as they staked out their respective domains, the very loud, very recognizable shriek of Zone-tailed Hawk wafted through the canyon.

Though these Hawks seem to prefer canyon walls for perching and hunting, they also hang out and nest in riparian areas, particularly in cottonwood trees or sycamores. In addition to the two birds we saw on the rocky escarpment, there was also an individual bird calling not much farther down the road. 

The presence of these three raucous Zonies, all relatively close to the nest, made us rethink the site as that of a Blackhawk chick--it just seemed dangerous and impractical from the point of view of prospective Blackhawk parents. That being said, the Zonies never came near the nest, nor even crossed over from the opposite side of the Old Beeline Highway. Who knows...

It proved to be a very good day for raptors, and not only because we found our two target Hawks. We heard and saw multiple Cooper's Hawks, and even a single Sharp-shinned Hawk--identified in part by its distressed flight call and wingbeats--which is a pretty rare find in the area during late July.

There was a Red-tail and plenty of Turkey Vultures (of course), but the Cooper's were unusually Cooperative. The bird shown below was perched on the side of the road, between us and the car, but let us approach from a hundred feet or so until we were even with the bird, opposite the road.

After a few minutes of observation it departed, showing some pretty haggard primaries on the tail. These moments, when the bird is stretched at take off, can show how proportionally short the accipiter's wings are, relative to the length of its body.

As things started to quiet down at Sunflower, we retraced our route on the Hwy-87 and stopped off at Mesquite Wash, still hoping for a Cuckoo photo-op and anything else that would be new for the day. A young Summer Tanager fit that bill, but the wash itself was pretty flooded and muddy, making the trek somewhat perilous and uncomfortable as the sun finally forced its way through the clouds.
We spent a fair portion of time trying to get good looks and photos of the numerous Blue Grosbeaks in the area, a bird which manages to deny me with the ol' stick-in-the-face trick every single time...



Our experience with the accomodating Cooper's was one-upped at Mesquite though, as we had close encounters with another adult Cooper's Hawk and its two whiny offspring, who were perfectly capable of flying and hunting for themselves, but still seemed determined to mooch off of their parent.

They had very little fear of people, and in fact we didn't spot the first bird until we were standing right underneath it. For the next hour or so that we spent exploring the muddy wash and surrounding bosque, the distant, plaintive calling of the two demanding young was a constant.

Really, these birds were being spoiled by their parent(s) and the relative bounty of the flooded riparian woodland. It's a sign of the times, or so I've read. Kids stay living at home with their parents later and later, not wanting to wade into the tumultuous and unpromising job market, saddled with economically debilitating student debt and an inability to catch one's own songbirds.

Then again, from the parents' perspective, who could say no to this face?

The Birds Speak at Fish Creek

Last Saturday, I made the spectacular drive up to Apache Lake. Our driving itself was not especially spectacular (at least, mine wasn't), but rather the scenery, the winding desert canyons of the Superstition Mountains wowed and amazed with their colorful expanses. We took The Apache Trail/Hwy 88 up to about mile marker 224 and then parked in one of the canyons. After a brief descent, we found ourselves in the verdant, shady declivity known as Fish Creek. The creek runs for a couple miles and empties into Apache Lake. While it is not always flowing, it does serve as a nice shady respite for  lots of wildlife, and our two mile hike was filled with critters.



Upon entering the Fish Creek canyon, we were immediately greeted by Hooded Orioles and Bell's Vireos in the cottonwood trees. A few Northern Cardinals sang along the banks, and another interesting red bird, the marvelous Summer Tanager, paused to observe the curious bipeds stumbling along. This was one of two new birds we saw on this trip, and one I had been hoping to see for some time.



We saw many of the other expected desert/canyon species, including Abert's Towhees and Canyon Wrens. There were also lots of Yellow Warblers, including one male who was constantly followed and harassed by his recently-fledged chicks.While I was following this bubbly group of yellow birds through the desert scrub, I heard a harsh cry echoing through the canyon.

We looked up and saw a magnificent Zone-Tailed Hawk soaring overhead. This was a new bird for me, and it was an incredible experience to see it circling around on the canyon thermals, belting out its dominant call.

We hiked for another mile, observing Kingbirds, Gnatcatchers, and Black Phoebes all gathering nesting material. They were too busy to stop and pose for me, but the myriad of desert lizards were much more accommodating. Maybe it was just their cold-blooded nature combined with the overcast weather, but either way they were very reticent to move from their warm hang-outs. 

Eventually the water in Fish Creek ran out and so did the shady trees. We decided to turn back for the car, but not before I picked up a very nice sunburn. Much like the sunbathing lizards, I have since shed my skin and now feel like a new man!

On the way back, we were treated to more displays from the Zone-Tailed Hawk. The first bird was missing a couple of its primary feathers, and so it was easily recognizable. It was now joined by its mate, and together they glided along the canyon walls with a lofty grace and very appropriate sense of superiority.

Occasionally they would stop and perch on the dried century plants. I was never able to get very close, though I picked up lots of consolation lesions for my troubles. Nonetheless, the Zone-Tailed Hawks and their powerful calls were the highlight of the day, and provided one of the best new-bird sightings this year.