Picking a Spot and Getting the Shot

I fit a pleasant hour of birding in at the DBG after work on Wednesday. The wildflower garden there is bursting with color, and as such is one of the few places where there is still substantial bird activity, even when it's 94 degrees outside.

Overbearing sunlight and a bit of laziness compelled me to just pick a spot and plop down for my time at the DBG. It worked out pretty well though. The birds soon felt comfortable and were pretty close. There was a lot of stuff in the way, but I had obscured views of Green-Tailed Towhees, Gilded Flickers, and a lovely MacGillivray's Warbler. I also had some nice, clear views of many birds, and the added bonus of pleasing scener made it a very nice session of photography.

This Curve-Billed Thrasher was foraging underneath an ironwood tree (my beloved source of shade). The dry, yellow leaf littler all around reminds me of cornflakes...wouldn't he love to be standing on a big pile of those!

I've often thought that Cruve-Billed Thrasher beaks are superfluously insidious-looking. They're very functional, of course, and help the birds dig into top soil and pry under the leaf littler in search of food. But lots of other birds accomplish this too, and without looking so dangerous. I bet the Thrashers are hiding something, like they are, in fact, raptors in disguise.

The Gardens are still buzzing (quite literally) with Hummingbird activity. There are Anna's Hummingbirds at all different stages of molt and maturity, constantly bickering and chasing each other away from the flowers, never having enough time to actually enjoy the prize themselves.

This young male was a bit more subdued. He had a nice shady perch and was content to let the other hummers fight to the death, perhaps planning to claim the whole Gardens as his domain once the competition had eliminated itself. Whatever his plan, part of it seemed to entail sitting right next to me. I actually had to zoom out to fit him in the frame. How often does someone get to say that about a hummingbird? I would've liked a tiny bit more light, but I was still  very pleased.

The Thrasher was on the ground, and the Anna's sat near the top of the shrubs. This female Phainopepla seemed to like life right in the middle. She was often obscured from view, and didn't seem to be too comfortable squirming in between the brush. I suspect she had a nest nearby, but I could not find it.

She lowered her crest and she is about to take flight--always good to maximize aerodynamics.

I returned to the same spot in the Gardens on Friday evening, this time with Maria and my family, as we all set out to enjoy the blooming gardens in the cooler evening temperatures. We toured the whole facility, and also made a specific stop in the same place, and again I was rewarded with some nice photographic settings. The sun was on the wrong-side of this House Finch, but his red body surrounded by yellow palo verde blooms still made for a nice composition:

He made it look pretty good. I wish I could eat flowers.

This grumpy Curve-Billed thrasher was one of the few birds tolerating the direct sunlight. He seemed to be guarding this net-covered yucca plant, and was determined that it remain concealed until its grand unveiling, whenever that may be.

But even the most stalwart sentries still need to blink, and this Thrasher was no exception. In this photo, the nictitating membrane is still visible, as only half of the eye is fully exposed.

It's nice to just sit and bird in one spot. I'm often too impatient and end up roving all over a site. I know I probably see less birds that way, and definitely get less photos, but it has the psychological bonus of making me feel like I'm doing something, like the number of birds I may see is actively within my control, even if that's not the case. Nonetheless, every time I just pick a place and wait, it's just as rewarding.

Trek Rios

I've been thinking lately that it would be fun for someone do to a birding blog from the perspective of an other-worldly observer, you know, like the Star Trek people. So, with little forethought and even less qualification, here's my one-time attempt. Try to imagine this being dictated in William Shatner's inimitable voice. If it seems to work well, maybe this sort of transcript can be presented as podcasts later on, once I figure out what a podcast is.

Stardate: 04/16/2012

It was a harsh and unforgiving heat. The cruel sun sat high in the sky, baking and desiccating its poor subjects. I disembarked at the Tres Rios biological observation area, hoping to make a quick survey of the avifauna without any local, homo sapien confrontation. Alas, this was not to be. At the beginning of the trail I was forced to remonstrate with two adolescent earthlings who were engaging in a ritual display of manly grit as they drove their all-terrain vehicles in a continually circular fashion. I persuaded them to relocate so they did not taint my species sampling. They were begrudgingly obliging.

The Tres Rios Wetlands combine several different microcosms of common earth habitats, principally riparians swamp and semi-arid woodlands. In one of the first large cottonwood trees there is a noisy conglomerate of roosting Great Blue Herons. I asked them to take me to their leader, but they all flew in different, even opposite directions. Realizing this obvious ruse, I instead continued westward, into the interior of the site.

In these Heron colonies, the young intermingle with the old, learning their wisdom and hearing repeated stories about the "good ol' days."

Although the Heron colonies have a lethargic feeling to them in the afternoon, there are always vigilant sentries on the lookout. With its coiled, powerful neck and spear-like beak, the Great Blue Heron is an elegant killing machine.

Though they boast an impressive wing-span, the Herons are terrestrial predators. Similarly, the large Black Vultures, often seen gliding overhead, must also come to the ground to feed. I cannot help suspecting that as it carelessly sailed above, doing its best to seem nonchalant, this vulture was in fact waiting for me to show a sign of weakness. With its effortless flight and bacteria-proof, calloused head, the Black Vulture is an elegant killing machine.

After the initial, wide entrance area to Tres Rios, the dirt path narrows and follows right along the waterfront. There are many different species to be found in the reeds, and other birds feeding in the shallows.

Along with Snowy Egrets and Green Herons, I was able to spot a few Solitary Sandpipers in the muddy perimeter. These birds do not rank that highly on the inter-galactic beauty scales, but they're not overly common in the area, and they are also elegant killing machines.

There were a few Dowitchers around too, feeding with the motion and speed of a sewing-machine (the kind which I use on my velour uniforms). I tried very hard to turn this into a Short-Billed Dowitcher, but I never could see much of the bill, and have resigned myself to the reality that, despite my many lightyears of travel, all I have yet come away with from my time on earth is the Long-Billed. Long or Short-Billed, they both appear to be elegant killing machines.

As the Tres Rios water-flow widens and deepens, the shorebirds desist and are replaced by flotillas of waterfowl, including Teal, Ruddy Ducks, and American Coots. The Ruddy Ducks and Blue-Winged Teals both have some nice blue accentuations in their coloration. I cannot confirm, but my professional suspicion is that they use these bits of blue to distract their prey before attacking in a manner most befitting elegant killing machines.

With danger lurking around every corner, my phaser was never far from reach. The beautiful but deadly birds were not the only threat. While chasing after a mysterious flycatcher, I came upon a large beehive. These flower-loving insects form massive groups controlled by some sort of whimsical hive-mind. They might well have conquered the earth by now if the individuals did not have such short lifespans, and if their only means of self defense or offense were not also fatal. Though their nectar is sweet, these Bees are not elegant killing machines.

Atop the bee tree there rested this debonaire Western Kingbird. Handsome, cocky, cantankerous...it reminded me of myself as a young lad. As the bird's name, posture, and exuding confidence all indicate, it is an apex predator of insects, a truly elegant killing machine.

But my sightings were not limited to just the large and powerful birds in the Tres Rios area. True enough, I did see White Pelicans, Harris' Hawks, and a Bald Eagle at different points, but the small and dainty birds, the Sparrows, if you will, provided equal intrigue. 

This Song Sparrow was chief among the gregarious little birds. After flitting about in the dry reeds, it put on a display of cuteness for which I was not properly prepared. Just as I started to let my guard down, I realized it was a trap. While this lead Sparrow distracted me, its hunting partners had moved in to attack from the sides, ready to slash me into velour ribbons with their elegant, killing-machine claws.

From the sound of the Song Sparrows and the Red-Winged Blackbirds nearby, I knew I was surrounded. I hit the panic button and was quickly beamed aboard to safety. Although it was a narrow escape, I shall return soon to continue my ornithological survey of the planet called Earth.

Transmission Over,

Butler Out

3 Kinds of Blackbirds Baked in a Pie

Nah, not really. I suspect that pie would be gross. Anyhow, while out exploring the west Phoenix farmland I came across a little area where three of the five North American Blackbirds were living it up in the evening light. I really enjoy seeing family/groups all together (that doesn't just go for birds). Alas, there was no Rusty Blackbird around, and the Tri-Coloreds never seem to stray from the California coast. Even so, three Blackbirds is a good number of Blackbirds, especially when they're so pretty.

Here, listen to the Beatle's Blackbird song too. It seems only appropriate.

First up was the Red-Winged Blackbird, harbinger of spring and soon-to-be relentless loud-mouth of riparian lands all across America. This stud was calling from some marshy plants near a dairy farm where one can also find lots of Yellow-Headed Blackbirds.

The Yellow-Headed BBs can be consistently found at the farm, but their exact location is contingent on which section of cows are being fed. Unfortunately, this schedule often places them on the wrong side of the sun in the evening. Oh, the injustices with which we must put up as birders...

There were also some small flocks of Brewer's Blackbirds in the area. I really like these birds, but they're unlucky in having such attractive cousins. Though beautiful in their own right, they're the relatively ugly ones of the bunch.

The male Blackbirds all have stunning visual appeal, but it was this rather drab female, eager for some attention too, who gave me the best view. I really like the symmetrical feather detail that came out in her portrait. Durable, warm, beautiful...though they look as thin as tissue paper, these feathers will carry the Blackbird hundreds and hundreds of miles.

Here, just to round things off, is the Rusty Blackbird seen in Anthem (N. Phoenix) autumn of 2011.

Only one more Blackbird to go. Hopefully I'll get a chance to try for the Tri-Colored soon.

Room for Two?

This week is AIMS week, the week in which my students take lots of standardized tests to tell us and them how they compare to other students and schools across the state and country. These tests are woefully inadequate and fraught with analytical problems, but I'm still not complaining because this means I have very little work to do this week in terms of lesson preparation. That dull anecdote was necessary only to say: I had some time to go birding Sunday afternoon.

I decided to try for a rare double-whammy, first stopping by the Glendale recharge ponds to chase a few unusual birds before quickly heading south to the Tres Rios site. The recharge ponds were a total flop last week, but in the twenty minutes I spent circumventing and surveying the first basin, they more than made up for their previous vacancies. The miniature lake was mostly populated with Black-Necked Stilts and Mallards, while Least Sandpipers lined the shoreline. Amidst these larger and darker birds, it was pretty easy to pick out the Red-Necked Phalarope and Bonaparte's Gull.

While scanning the wide, reflective water basin, the Gull was the first unusual sighting. As is always the case at the GRP, the bird was very far out on the water. Not too far away from the Gull there floated a much smaller bird with just a hint of red on the neck. 

Even at a distance, seeing a new bird is always greatly satisfying, and in this case it was a pretty rare bird too! It wasn't the soul-satisfying view that comes from a close encounter, but I'll take it! The Phalarope seemed to be buddies with this Black-Necked Stilt. It is also possible that the Phalarope was just using the taller bird as a mobile shade.

The Bonaparte's Gull took off pretty soon and, for once, I got my best look of the bird while it was passing overhead. There was a Franklin's Gull also reported in the area, but this bird seems much too light on the wings and there was no discernible red on the beak.

Two new birds is not bad for the first stop on a two-part birding adventure!

Great Birding at Gloomy Granite Reef

The Granite Reef Dam and recreations site is one of the western-most structures on the salt river as it flows into the city. None of that really matters. More importantly, it's another great birding spot that's within a thirty minute drive of Central Phoenix, and until Saturday was one of the few Maricopa County birding hotspots I had not investigated. Pops and I headed out early. It was a chilly, overcast morning, and the clouds stayed put all through our hike. Despite the less-than-ideal conditions, Granite Reef was indeed a great site. We saw 67 confirmed species of birds, including two more Lifers for me, and sustained only minimal bodily damage in the process!

We parked about a half mile east of the recreation site, in part to avoid parking fees and to explore more of the terrain. There is a slightly overgrown but manageable path running parallel to the river, and soon after getting to the water's edge from the car we witnessed our first Granite Reef birds. Like any good rainy day of birding, this one started with some Common Gallinule.



We continued along the river, eyes darting back and forth between the water and the bustling tree canopies above us. There were lots of handsome Yellow-Rumped Warblers darting around, but Swallows provided the real action. There were hundreds of them swooping, soaring, and diving above the river, and they maintained their relentless extermination of all airborne insects for the duration of our trip. The Rough-Winged Swallows and Bank Swallows made up the majority, but Tree Swallows, Cliff Swallows, and even a few Barn Swallows were also visible in the feeding frenzy. I could not take any presentable Swallow pictures, so this pair of nice, easy-going Mallards provided the consolation prize.

As the Salt River approached the Granite Reef dam, it becomes much wider and deeper. The number and diversity of the waterfowl really picks up, although American Coots are still the largest constituency. We had some nice looks at Cinnamon Teal, Redheads, Ring-Necks, and Canvasback.

Across the lake, this sole Eared Grebe, fully decked-out in his naval uniform/breeding regalia, patrolled the final stretch of accessible water, making sure that if anybody crossed the buoys, they'd do it by swimming.

"Abandon All Boats, Ye Who Enter Here"

We started to run out of room along the waterfront and found another path leading through the thick undergrowth, now looking for Warblers, Flycatchers, and whatever made its home in the gloomy woods.   Along with your standard dose of Abert's Towhees, there were a lot of Phainopeplas in the area. I was surprised to see them not only adorning the treetops, but also foraging deep into the undergrowth and near the ground--not really the sort of behavior to expect from silky Flycatchers. This was also the first time I've been able to observe Phainopepla nests. Perhaps the added demands of parenthood abolished the birds' normal scruples with low-level feeding.

Here a female sits atop her stately teacup nest.

The woods were very thick at times, and unfortunately the willow trees and cottonwoods often intermingled with thorny mesquite and ironwood trees to make navigation a slow and painstaking process. But the dense foliage served its purpose, even as it blocked out what little sunlight there was. There were Cardinals, Brewer's Sparrows, White-Crowns, tons of Yellow-Rumped Warblers, and even some Wilson's Warblers.

(I said great looks not great photos)

Throughout the day we found two pairs of calling Bullock's Orioles, whose fiery orange, yellow, and white couldn't be suppressed even by the thoroughly overcast sky.

The Yellow-Rumped Warblers like to form ferocious gangs. They roamed around terrorizing tree canopies with no consideration or restraint. If you're small, invertebrate, and have more than four legs...don't let these gangs catch you. They would move through areas with astonishing numbers and quickness, cleaning out the local insect populations and chattering all the while. It was hard not to get caught up in the momentum at times, both for ourselves and for other birds. This Hermit Warbler gave up his life of isolation and was recruited into the cartel, where he did his share of the work in decimating the insect population.

The Hermit Warbler was a first for Pops and me. Even though they do migrate through the area, it was a totally unexpected sighting. When the yellow head catches the light, it's a very striking bird.

As we approached the dam, the woodlands became more and more thin. The trees were shorter and the bird species again shifted. Along the woody margin we saw Chipping Sparrows, White-Winged Doves, and a Northern Harrier. Some Lazuli Buntings provided another great surprise, though the subsequent photographic pursuit was in vain. At least I photographed some Javelina. That's just as good right..?

Pedestrians are barred access to the dam itself, and a large worksite on the south side of the river forced us to take an additional detour to get around to the west side. We followed a canal for part of the way and got to observe the chaparral and its inhabitants, including some exceedingly red House Finches, just as the sun finally started to break through the clouds.

After having a nice reunion with an Ash-Throated Flycatcher at Tres Rios last week, it was a delight to find a very active couple in a large, flowering mesquite tree along the man-made waterway. I can't exactly explain why I think these birds are so cool. Maybe it's just that they're more sizable but without sacrificing any color. Maybe it's that they don't turn into chickens when I try to take their picture.  Even considering the most excellent Hermit Warbler, the Ash-Throated Flycatcher was my favorite sighting of the day.



We continued to walk along the chaparral, keeping our eyes and ears peeled (ouch!) for any bird signs. With our concentration on the marginal trees and shrubs, it was a great bit of fortune that I happened to look down just in time to avoid stepping on this coiled Glossy Snake. Upon close inspection, it appeared that this snake was dead already. Maybe it was just feeling super sluggish with the lack of warm light, or maybe it's better at playing dead than Elvis. Either way, we moved it off the road and continued in our loop back to the parking lot.

We decided to retrace our steps to where we had last seen the Lazuli Buntings, hoping they'd make another appearance. There was no more luck on that account, but it was a felicitous decision, for in the Buntings' place we encountered a brazen Olive-Sided Flycatcher. Of course, he was perched atop the tallest tree he could find, but a break in the clouds allowed for some quick shots, and we were treated to some dexterous in-flight displays as he charged from perch to perch.

It was a great trek, and Granite Reef definitely deserves its fine reputation as one of the premier birding areas in Maricopa County. With Granite Reef on the east side, Tres Rios on the west side, Glendale Recharge Ponds to the north and the Gilbert Water Ranch to the south, Phoenix-area birders can go in any direction and find great birds.

Killdeer Jr.

By fun coincidence, there have been some excellent posts and photos of young Killdeer this last week in the bird Blog-o-sphere. I'd never seen the young before, and but from the pictures they looked pretty adorable. It was another case of birding synchronicity when I went to the Glendale Recharge Ponds on Friday evening and saw my first Killdeer chicks.

The ponds were pretty full and there was a lot of cloud cover. Even so, the bio-diversity was pretty poor. There were reports of Buffleheads and Curlews just the day before, but when I got there it was only Coots, Mallards, tons of Least Sandpipers, and a few Avocets, all of which stayed very far from the basin perimeters. It was a pretty disappointing outing until I headed back to the car, at which point the scurrying little puff balls caught my eye. 

They were running around in one of the few dry basins while their parents screeched encouragement/criticism. One of the chicks must have been a little bit sleepy, or maybe it was just in time-out. At any rate it decided to huddle down next to a rock, using the thick full tall green grass as  impenetrable protection.

It didn't seem like a very good spot to settle, especially while a potential predator (me) was watching. As Greg Gillson pointed out in his recent BirdingIsFun article, Killdeer do pick rather odd places to nest and rest at times. All the same, this little guy felt pretty comfortable, and soon closed his eyes.

I like the chicks much better than the parents. They're quiet.

Plan B Birding

I was all set to visit the Desert Botanical Gardens for some evening birding and photography on Wednesday. The plan was to leave work and head over while I still had a couple hours of daylight. But, just as I arrived at work in the morning, I realized I had made the most heinous, egregious, frustrating and teeth-gnashing error of all...I had forgotten my birding gear at home!!!

So, with much self-deprecation, I headed back to the west side of town after work. I got the equipment and resigned myself to some local park birding. I wish I could say there was some special sighting, some serendipitous occurrence whereby I was left thinking, "Wow! What great luck that I forgot my stuff earlier and was forced to come here, otherwise I never would have seen this interesting and beautiful rare bird (yes, that IS how I talk to myself)."

Encanto has been a great local patch, and does produce its share of surprises from time to time, including a Lewis's Woodpecker and Townsend's Warblers. But today was just a normal day, and there were just normal birds (life can be so so hard for birders). Now, I know I promised last week that I'd be one and done with duckling photos, but promises mean nothing to the birds! Encanto was overflowing with ducklings. I counted over 8 distinct Mallard families, each with 6 or more ducklings.

The Ducks weren't the only ones with young out and about. The Lovebird population at Encanto has always been pretty loud and large. Their numbers and noises were swelled by the numerous adolescents. The young Lovebirds have much less red on their face, have much darker coloration on their beaks, and they're noticeably smaller.

There were also some young Neotropic Cormorants hanging around. They were more petite than their older counterparts, and a little less shy. I'm assuming they're Neotropics from all of the brown, though to me the beaks actually look more Double-Crested. Any ideas?

This young un' looked to have a soggy diaper...

Birding at Encanto wasn't the original plan, but it was a nice evening. Their were lots of young birds and the weather dropped into the 70s for the first time this week. It's always good to have a Plan B.