A Bit of Brit

Recently I listed myself as a birding reference though the Birdingpals site for people visiting the Phoenix area. This nifty network allows out-of-state or out-of-country enthusiasts to get in touch with locals and meet up for some birding or at least get some information about their locale. It's an opportunity to share some of the Phoenix area birding delights and meet some interesting folks, folks one might not otherwise meet out and about at the Maricopa County birding sites. I know what you're thinking and yes, it is indeed irresponsible for someone who makes as many clumsy ID mistakes and typos as I do to take people out and about the treacherous Sonoran Desert in pursuit of birds. We all know the risks... 

Last weekend I met up with Peter, a peripatetic peregrinating birder and aviation enthusiast from Lancashire, Britain. While he was in Phoenix for a couple of days we were able to visit several different sites, racking up lots of lifers, getting some great sightings, and also sampling cuisine better than the usual fast food to which one is often restricted when visiting a foreign place and staying in a hotel by the airport. 

After work on Friday I picked up Peter (with my car) and we headed over to the Desert Botanical Gardens. These beautiful gardens showcase a wide range of desert fauna, but post a staggering $18 admission fee if you are not a member. As one would expect, excellent desert habitats host excellent desert birds, and even some birds that aren't exclusively desert, but do just fine there anyway. Embarrassingly enough, this is the first time I had a visual on a Western Screech Owl, a bird I often hear and am taunted by at night. This fellow was in a north-facing cavity on a saguaro about 100 yards south of the wildflower loop trail. 

There are always Curve-billed Thrashers, Doves, and Quail around the DBG, along with Northern Cardinals and Ruby-crowned Kinglets is great numbers during certain times of year.

After doing a loop through the DBG, further picking up Gila Woodpecker, Red-shafted Flicker, Lesser Goldfinch, Black-chinned Hummingbird, and Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, we headed to the neighboring Papago Ponds, which are great spots for waterfowl.
Last week was absurdly warm, hitting the lower 90s on several occasions, and it proved too much for many of the ducks. The Pintails and Canvasbacks were all gone; only a few Wigeon and Gadwall remained to keep the Ring-necked Ducks company. There was an interesting domestic duck on the shoreline, which caught my attention because it did not have a Mallard beak (usually there's Mallard-type beaks on all the domestic ducks). The dark brown head and bit of white at the base of the mandible, like the beak, almost indicate that some Scaup is involved, but I will postulate no further.

The next day we headed out west, first stopping at the Thrasher Spot in Buckeye and then moving east to Tres Rios, the Glendale Recharge Ponds, and Encanto Park. It was heavily overcast in the morning, much too dark for photos, but we succeeded in finding all four Thrashers at the spot, with the trickiest and last Thrasher being a very handsome Crissal that Peter picked out of a tree top while we were exploring the north side of the road. The pair of Le Conte's were again reliably seen on the narrow wash just north of its intersection with the old fencepost line.

Tres Rios is one of the birdiest spots in Maricopa, and in just a couple hours there we logged another sixty or so species, only birding the first mile of the site. Of course, the only raptor that was photographable had to blink and ruin the picture.

There were plenty of Yellow-headed Blackbirds, as well as all three Teal species sighted in the first marshy stretch. We also saw at least one Mexican Mallard, told by the darker body and clean, bright yellow beak. This was a first for the site for me, and as far as I am aware is an infrequent occurrence much north of Tucson.



Someone must have told this Snowy Egret a great joke just before we saw him. He was really yucking it up, and was indeed too preoccupied to even bother flying away as we walked along the Tres Rios flow channel. Alas, this was the only snow we had in Phoenix this winter (not the only Snowy).

One of our best stretches of birding was along the south-side riparian corridor, starting adjacent to the big clump of eucalyptus trees. We had Orange-crowned and Wilson's Warblers, along with Ash-throated Flycatchers (one of my favorite birds) and this grumpy-looking, backlit Great Horned Owl.

It was a great weekend for Owls, with the Western Screech the day before and the Burrowing Owls found along the nearby agricultural fields making it a three-owl weekend. 

We picked up Black-necked Stilts, Yellowlegs, Kingfisher, and American Avocets at the Glendale Recharge Ponds, and then found the resident Harris' Hawks at Encanto Park. Peter ended up with some seventy or more lifers for the trip, and with another stop in Pennsylvania he may well end his vacation with over one hundred new birds to add to his life list. Pretty stellar!

We finished off the afternoon with Thai food, chilled pears and India Pale Ales. It was a great weekend of birding and I am looking forward to further experiences with the Birdingpals network.

Epic Bird Day: Patagonia

Last weekend my wife worked a double on Saturday, and all bird nerds know what it means when one's spouse or significant other is working on a weekend. It means Epic Birding Day! It was time to saddle up and get down to southeast Arizona for a rigorous day of indulgent bird-seeking. With it being early and unseasonably warm in March, expectations were high both for seeing lots of the southeastern residents and also for seeing some migrant birds that would be new for the year. I'll admit, I had the faintest optimism of seeing some Evening Grosbeaks that had been reported in Tubac two days prior.

So, heading south down the I-19 from the I-10, I first stopped at the De Anza trail in Tubac, and hiked along to Santa Gertrudis Lane. As expected, the Evening Grosbeaks were long gone, but there were still some great birds out in the early morning haze, including a new one for the 2013 birding year.



Woodpeckers were the first to great the timid sun. They were impatient and it took its sweet time in rising. When it was finally up, it had delayed long enough to let the clouds come in and dim the sky. There is an uncanny correlation between visiting great birding spots and getting overcast weather...
Anyway, the first minutes of clear skies were a head-banger's dream as Northern Flickers (3 above), Ladderbacks, and Gila Woodpeckers went to work in the mixed woodlands. They had Cottonwoods and mesquites to choose from. The Flickers liked the taller cottonwoods, while the Gilas stuck to the mesquite, and were thus, oddly, more photogenic.

Apart from some skulking Song and Lincoln's, it was a relatively sparrow-less dawn, but from ground level to mid level, my attention was enraptured by this mid-molt Vermillion Flycatcher. This poor fellow was at that awkward stage experienced by many the college freshman, when they molt into their mature adult beardage to show they're ready to breed.Yes, he's sporting the equivalent of the scraggily freshmen-year facial hair, and like the freshmen he won't be attracting many mature ladies this year, no matter how loud or obnoxiously he behaves. Hang in there bro; soon you'll be one in a vermillion.

The self-conscious Vermillion was hanging out along a little stream, and while trying to get different angled shots of the awkward Flycatcher, I noticed the silhouette of what appeared to be an inordinately large Say's Phoebe. After a minute the bird flew lower down into the tree where the back-lighting wasn't so debilitating, and revealed itself to be a first-of-the-year Cassin's Kingbird. Hazy photo, branches in the way...this guy must've been hanging out with Bigfoot this winter. 

There were plenty of Towhees and Cardinals, along with gangs of House and Bewick's Wrens, all rustling around the hedges of Santa Gertrudis Lane, whose large pyracantha bushes supported the Grosbeaks a couple of days before. It's hardly a consolation prize but hey, without Abert's Towhees doing their thing, scientists estimate that we'd all be living up to our waists in leaf litter, bugs, and old seeds. Abert's Towhee: the unsung custodian of the forest floor.

The De Anza trail was a very pleasant walk, but it was just an appetizer for the birding feast to come.This time around the main objective was Flycatchers. Patagonia provides the very similar Gray, Dusky, and Hammonds Flycatchers all within close distance of each other, and I was greatly wanting more time to study the Gray's and Duskies in addition to obtaining better photos of these two species.

In my experiences, the Gray Flycatcher is the most common/visible of the three. It perches and hunts from mid-level in the trees around Patagonia Lake (and anywhere it lives). There are some subtle variations that helps to separate this bird from the similar Duskies and Hammonds--short primary projections, non-contrasting wing-bar and tertial coloration and more of a gray band across the forehead--but for my money the easiest way (and hopefully still a consistent way) is by taking a look at the beak. This guy's beak is very long, in proportion to his head.

By contrast, this Dusky Flycatcher, which also tends to prefer lower, brushier habitat, has a stubby beak. The Hammond's has a stubby beak as well, but they tend to prefer taller trees and higher perches (this bird was foraging and photographed just a couple of feet off the ground, an elevation at which it stayed for the duration of my fifteen minute observation). Of the three birds, the Dusky has the most noticeable contrast between the head and back, and Hammond's has the longest primary projections, long like this fellow here.

           

Truth be told, the primary-projection business if iffy for me, as can be obscured by the bird's posture and movements. It seems like the odds are better for getting a good look at the beak length, but maybe others would care to weigh in on this observation. At any rate, I can't say I'm a glutton for punishment, but I do have a certain proclivity towards tormenting myself in the pursuit of these empidomax.
*The more-informed opinion on this bird is that it is, indeed, a Hammond's (Cheers Seagull Steve), so ignore everything I said.

Rooting around the narrow paths on Patagonia's east side, near Sonoita Creek, will turn up the vast majority of Patagonia's species, both in mixed flocks and as individuals. Common Ground Doves often travel in little bands but this solitary bird was the only one I saw. 

Commonly grounded, this Dove seldom gets to hang out with its friends on the weekend.

A conspicuous Canyon Towhee was trying to fit in with an un-abiding group of Abert's Towhees around the same area. It was surprising to see a Canyon Towhee near the comparatively lush, green undergrowth around Sonoita creek, especially as I did not see any when hiking around the move arid, elevated north side of the lake--the kind of terrain they usually prefer. Towhees are such butts to photograph, and the thickening clouds didn't help the situation. All the same, it's still satisfying to find something unexpected, even if it's not rare.

Despite being expected, common, and easily seen, the Bridled Titmouse is still a delightful bird. Chinstrap Beard Titmouse is a less eloquent name for this bird, but it would also be fitting. As far as black, white, and gray birds go (there are more than a few), these are one of the most stylish.

After several hours of rummaging around the bird-rich Sonoita Creek area, I finally resolved that the Trogon was a no-show for the day and decided to continue hiking around the lake (I hate to admit it, but it felt good to later read that nobody found the bird that day. Although I am sorry for others who spent time and money chasing it, I feel less incompetent now). For the most part, it seems like birders concentrate their efforts on the south shore and Sonoita Creek parts of the lake, ultimately with good reason. The south shore also has elevated desert chaparral frequented by Rufous variety Sparrows and other arid dwellers, so in terms of specialization there is no reason for the long walk around the lake.

Nonetheless, I set off, mostly just to content myself that I would have hiked all around the lake. The clouds continued to thicken, the bird numbers dropped off, and with each passing minute of the dreary afternoon the decision felt more and more rash. But while walking and musing along the northern shore, a delightful ball of saturated, sweet-ing yellow caught the eye. In the gloomy lighting and under gloomy skies, this first-of-year Yellow Warbler looked positively radiant. It also looked out of place.

He is likely wondering why he is so exposed, why this sycamore tree yet has no leaves.



Another conspicuous, first-of-year bird I found on the way back to the car was this resplendent male Broad-billed hummingbird. Even more exciting, I actually had an opportunity to view the impressive breadth of its bill. It's very bride.



For sooth, it's unfair how colorful this bird is. Luckily for birders, nature isn't always fair.



Speaking of unfairly colored birds, I swung by Fort Lowell Park in Tucson on the way back to Phoenix in the hopes of seeing a reported Yellow-bellied Sapsucker. I had some brief looks at the bird while it was high in a eucalyptus tree, but the real attention grabber, in addition to some people trying to have a wedding in the windy, rainy, chilly weather, was a brazen Vermilion Flycatcher. There were half a dozen such Flycatchers around Patagonia Lake, but they were all much more shy. He must have known that the lighting was too poor to get proper feather detail, and that his colors would be almost disgustingly saturdated. He definitely knew. Nature isn't fair.



It was an epic day of birding, and not just in the over-used, relatively meaningless sense of the word as it is employed today. In about nine hours of birding I saw around eighty species, a half-dozen of which were new for the year, hiked around Patagonia Lake, and found perhaps the world's cutest Muscovy duck. This bird is not countable to any ABA lists in Arizona, but seriously, I challenge anyone to find a cuter version of this normally disgusting bird.

If one has to pick just one site to plunk down and explore for eight hours, Patagonia is among the best in the state, though it is at its zenith a bit later in the spring. Patagonia is famous for its birding diversity and also because it has hosted an early Male Trogon along the Sonoita Creek wash for the last ten or so years. This secretive but reliable bird has been attracting people past the $10 per-vehicle charge for years now, though I have never seen it is this area.



It was a great trip, and best of all, I'll be back soon for the Trogon and some Black-capped Gnatcatchers, and I will be back with back-up, big back-up!

Call the Bluff

Out east of Phoenix there are several fantastic birding sites along the Salt River. The most well-known, and perhaps the all-round birdiest site, is Granite Reef, which is also the farthest west and provides a trail to the Granite Reef dam, where one can see concentrations of waterfowl a-plenty. But farther east are other attractions which, though comparatively lacking in their waterfowl, have really neat mesquite bosque and chaparral habitats that are absolutely teeming with birds during the right time of year. I swung by Blue Point earlier this winter for a fabulous Red-breasted Sapsucker, and weekend before last I hit up Coon Bluff after stopping by Red Mountain Park for some singing Bendire's Thrashers (see earlier post). 

The Coon Bluff site is stunning, especially as the wild grass shoots up and the scraggily trees bud out after a recent February downpour. That being said, I was a bit unlucky with my timing. When I arrived at the parking area ($6 Tonto National Forest permit required) I discovered the Phoenix metropolitan area boy scouts had planned a full scale, D-Day invasion of the place. I don't mean to sound grumpy, and in fact I was glad to see many people out enjoying the fabulous weather and scenery, I just had to move my birding site farther east than I would've preferred. Ultimately it worked out fine. 

I've been on a bit of a Flycatcher binge lately, and with a particular desire to find and photograph Gray Flycatchers I set out into the mesquite bosque looking for little dull empids. Inevitably, my attention was drawn to the larger, louder, more conspicuous and totally suave Phainopeplas. 

The mesquite trees host hemi-parasitic mistletoe which provide sustenance and lodging for the Phainopeplas. Find some ripe patches of mistletoe, and the treetops will be littered with these cool birds. There were acres of scrub where it seemed like every single tree had its own resident, chatty set of birds. Don't let their red eyes and silky aesthetic fool you. These birds are shameless gossips, as bad as Wrens or elderly neighborhood sodalities. 

The bird sightings tended to come in waves, with mixed flocks moving through and giving one a couple of minutes to try and pick out all the species before they'd inexorably and without apparent coordination, simultaneously move on in a random direction. As one would expect, there were plenty of White-crowned Sparrows and Yellow-rumped Warblers. Lark, Brewer's, and Vesper Sparrows also made it into the mix, while Say's Phoebes and Vermillion Flycatchers impressed with their overhead acrobatics. In the first few hours I picked out three or four Gray Flycatchers but was unable to get satisfactory photos of them. Normally this would be more vexing, but I was content in the knowledge that soon I'd be driving down south to greater concentrations, to strike into the very heart of the Gray Flycatcher nation in Patagonia. 

While out romping around and whooping it up, I also bumped into four British ladies (I didn't literally bump into them; that would've been awkward) who were exploring the bosque with lots of camera equipment and were in search of wild horses. I hadn't given the distant horse noises much thought until then, for when I heard the neighing and whinnying I assumed it was trail-riders and didn't think there was such a thing as wild horses in this area. I kept my personal misgivings private and directed them towards the noises and fresh droppings I noticed earlier that day. And yes, noticing droppings did make me feel like a real live naturalist. I didn't see the ladies again but hopefully they had some luck. I found three different groups of horses during the outing, none of which seemed particularly wild, other than that they were in a non-fenced area. One way or another, here's a cool attraction at Coon Bluff.

Eventually I progressed to the Salt River itself, which being rather thin and shallow at this point, did not host much in way of birds. A few pairs of Common Mergansers were squabbling farther west, and a lonely Great Blue Heron stood vigil at the banks. It's always kinda funny to find the water/riparian habitat to be less birdy than the surrounding desert, but that's the nature of how vegetation grows there.

I did have my FOY (first of year) Western Bluebirds at Coon Bluff, and some of the cottonwoods along the river did allow for better photo opportunities than I'd managed earlier in the day. They may be less iconic than the Eastern Bluebirds, but I gotta argue that the Westerns are prettier. In the right light (not pictured), their colors are positively electric.

The birding diversity at Coon Bluff isn't as high as at Granite Reef, but the openness of the site is very appealing, and since the two are only  few miles apart, stopping at both is the best way to go!

In Dire Need of Song

I'm not the savviest videographer. In fact, savvy is not a word I often use in self description at all, which is a shame because there aren't many words that have two 'v's next to each other. Come to think of it, I should really try to be more savvy more often. 

Having read some interesting and convincing posts about recording bird vocalizations on Lauren Harter's and David Van Der Pluym's blog, I decided to knock up my Thrasher addiction a notch by getting some recordings of Thrasher March melodies.

Horned Lark: A savvy bird, which otherwise has nothing to do with this post, except that he was there.

The previously mentioned (last week) Thrasher Spot in west Phoenix is probably the best place in the entire state to see three, four, or even five different Thrasher species all in one small habitat. However, Red Mountain Park in Mesa, over on the east side of town, is likely the best place to witness singing Bendire's Thrashers up close and personal. They sing from the bush-tops and from the streetlights, from their heart and soul (awww...), and unlike in west Phoenix, they're not too timid around people. 

It's just as well these guys have great pipes, because in all honesty (and don't get me wrong, I love these birds), they're probably the most boring/un-handsome Thrasher. Dull, brown, ... dazed and confused.

But you could say those things about toast too! And everybody still loves toast. Anyway, here's a Bendire's Thrasher doing what they do best. Click in the bottom-right corner to enlarge the video.

Not too shabby eh? The Bendire's Thrashers have a sort of foundational melody, but being mimids and all, they also have some variation and improvisations in their song too, at least in my experiences. Half of the time they're singing they look like they don't know what's going on. It's pretty charming stuff. All the Thrashers are blessed with charming and versatile vocals, but when the Bendire's get in the zone they really belt it out with reckless abandon. Spring is coming and these critters are twitterpated.

"See, it's what's on the inside that counts, so I just sing my guts out. Problem solved."

I don't bird at Red Mountain Park very often, mostly because there are other birdier spots nearby, even though those spots don't host Bendire's as well. Red Mountain isn't without its other attractions. Its duck pond draws in the usual suspects, and even a few of the harder-to-find-but-totally-worth-it-to-find-because-they're-beautiful Redheads. 

There was also a Black and White Warbler reported at the park, but I had no luck in finding it, nor even finding any detailed information on the bird's last whereabouts. Not to worry, one of Red Mountain Park's biggest advantages is that it's only ten minutes away from the excellent birding sites along the Salt River, so naturally that's where I went next. More to come!

Birds n' Booze: A Classy Weekend in Southeast Arizona

By now everyone's heard of the birding attractions in Southeast Arizona. Every little mountain range has its own specialities and rare species, whether it's Mexican Chickadees and Hummingbirds or Spotted Owls and Montezuma Quail. Too often I launch into panegyrics on the region, and more than a few bird bloggers have filed for restraining orders against my continual ramblings about the place.

But most recently when I travelled down to the Sonoita area, on the southeastern foothills of the Santa Rita Mountains (home of the famous Florida and Madera Canyons), it wasn't with the birds in mind (ok, they're always in mind), but for the wine. 

Yes indeedy, with their predominantly spanish varietals, the Arizona wine circuit is booming, and some outstanding, award-winning wines are being produced down at the Callahan, Doz Cabezas, Sand Reckoner, and Lightning Ridge wineries. It was early February, and the plan was to stay in the area at a friend's house for the weekend and soak in the scenery, along with gallons of adult grape juice, before heading over to the famous Whitewater Draw near Willcox to observe the massive flocks of noisy Sandhill Cranes and the marshy entourage that can be found nearby. 

Before we made it to the vineyards or the Whitewater Draw, we made a stop and explored the oldest standing Spanish mission in America, founded in 1691a.d. at Tumacacori. 

Set against the gloomy winter skies that dominate southeastern Arizona in February, the mission was splendidly emanating with that irreplaceable aura of historical worth. Nonetheless, after about ten or fifteen minutes of sight-seeing, I was drawn back outside by the sounds of Sparrows and their ilk.

Chipping and Lark Sparrows were all around the grounds, while Mockingbirds and Phainopeplas dotted the craggy tree tops. The occasional Brewer's and Vesper Sparrow was mixed in with the bunch, along with some other cruelly ambiguous birds like this buffy first-year Chipping Sparrow, which dared me to call him Clay-colored. Nice try young Chipper, nice try...

There is substantial delight to be had simply in driving through the grassy, rolling hills of Sonoita and Patagonia, especially with overcast skies. The pasture fences are strewn with Lark Buntings and Red-tailed Hawks, while patient Harriers soar ever-present in the foreboding skies.

After visiting the old mission and some other fun sites in the Tumcacori area, we drove to the Sonoita wine circuit for an afternoon of semi-refined revelry.  We had a marvelous time visiting the Callahan and Dos Cabezas tasting rooms, hob-knobbing with winos and growers and generally doing our best to make Bacchus proud. Forgive the grainier phone photos. Saturday was overcast and the day for the Grapes; Sunday was the day for Birds.

There's nothing like right out of the barrel!

Unhappy weather was brooding in Arizona all weekend, and we were regularly rained on throughout our travels. This all made for an absolutely stunning drive out to the Whitewater Draw on Sunday morning, as the thick clouds just started to break up and let in the light. The golden plains were so saturated with color and the sky seemed to hold every hue of blue and then purple as the sun finally had its way and reasserted itself in the sky.

The Whitewater Draw, located about thirty minutes northeast of Bisbee and Douglas in the southeast corner of the state, is one of the state's most famous birding sites as it pulls in thousands of wintering Sandhill Cranes every year. As we were approaching the preserve we saw hundreds of skeins spreading out over the farm fields in search of fresh grazing grounds. We arrived at the Draw a bit too late for the grand dawn take off, but there were still plenty of chatty birds lingering in the shallow waters. From miles out the cacophony of honking Cranes echoed in our ears. The anxious, somewhat abrasive honk of the Crane is a very endearing sounds, one I regret not recording.

With the waters being pretty far removed from the pedestrian areas (that's half the appeal for the Cranes), the opportunities for up close viewing are pretty rare. Every once in a while though some Cranes would fly by close overhead, or off into a rainbow. There's got to be more than one pot of gold hidden out there.

While the Cranes are the main attraction, they're not the only birds on display. The tall marsh grass around the inundated lowlands is teeming with Sparrows, and smaller groups of Waterfowl also ply their trade in the shallows. Smaller birds like these Northern Pintails and Green-winged Teal cling to the underbellies of the Cranes and clean them of parasites. Scientists call it a symbiotic relationship.

 

As one might guess, the Draw is also bubbling with raucous Marsh Wrens. These birds are often a torment for photography, but with so many around the odds are finally in the photographer's favor. The Whitewater Draw allows one distant looks at huge birds, and up close views of tiny birds. 

Meadowlarks and Thrashers inhabit the surrounding Grasslands, and with a little bit of luck one might hear the trill or catch a glimpse of a Grasshopper Sparrow. While pausing to scrape some mud (there's plenty of that too after some rain), I even noticed a delightful ruddy little rump slouching down from a  

scraggily bush. The black spots were promising too. We had gone to the Draw simply to see and hear the Crane spectacle, and we would also be heading back to Phoenix loaded up with wine (Callahan Tempranillo and Back Lot 10'...mmmmmm). Now there was a potential Lifer bird here to ice the cake.

Ice the cake it did! Ok, it didn't actually ice a cake, but I did see it poop. A pair of Ruddy Ground Doves, though not overly splendid or charming in their appearance and demeanor, were arguably the highlight, and an unexpected one at that, of an already amazing trip.

With all the birding, scenery, and now fantastic vineyards, there are too many reason to be in southeast AZ. Why anyone lives anywhere else (myself included) is beyond me. Birding is fun, and then there's birding with wine fun...