Target Birding: Maricopa Bull's-Eyes

A dangerous thing happened this weekend. Bird bloggers met up, face to face, without their electronic screens and safeguards and anonymity, and then went birding. Such endeavors have all the beautiful and terrifying potential of hybridized online dating combined with an antique fan-collector's convention, except in this case the unifying esoteric interest is birds, and birds provide plenty of their own heartbreak. No longer content with crushing it in Austin, Nate McGowan decided to come and crush it in central Arizona for a few days. First on the docket was a visit to the Thrasher spot in Buckeye, west Maricopa County.

With clear skies and cool temps we got the business done, logging some cooperative Bendire's Thrashers first thing, who provided a near-continual soundtrack throughout the morning. We also had individual Le Conte's and Crissal Thrasher, with which Butler'd Birds continued its hallowed tradition of not getting good photos.

The Thrasher Spot has a reputation throughout North America as one of the best areas for Le Conte's Thrasher, and as an added enticement it also plays host to the short-staying Sage Sparrow complex, both Sagebrush and Bell's. We did not see these birds until near the end of our excursion. While the Sagebrush eventually showed well, we could not pick out any Bell's Sparrows, which leaves them for a separate trip--if they're still in town. Both birds tend to be the first to depart for their breeding grounds.

As is also the case with astronauts, sailors, and bees, our trip out into west Maricopa needed to be followed by a trip back home. When returning from the Thrasher Spot, it is most advisable to swing through the nearby agricultural fields (and Arlington WMA, if there's time) for raptors. We were sadly bereft of Ferruginous Hawks, but Nate happily reminded me to appreciate the darker, western morph of Red-Tail that we commonly enjoy.

With the morning targets mostly secured (Bell's Sparrow withstanding), we then bolted to the far east side of town and the Salt River. Coon Bluff treated us to typical looks of Phainopepla and Gray Flycatcher, though photo ops yielded diminishing returns in the high noon dynamic. The Granite Reef site provided some distant but compelling views of Common Merganser, Bufflehead, and Common Goldeneye. Speaking of compelling, the Goldeneye drake was making time with his special hen. How's this for solicitation?

The Gray Flycatcher was one of very few remaining empid lifers for Nate, but at multiple points along the river we failed to come up with Gilded Flicker, which Nate was also seeking the day before. It was a peculiar shortfall for us, since the Flicker was, relatively, the easiest of our targets. There was this peeping tom at Granite Reef to add some welcome distraction.

With the Gilded Flicker failing to materialize along the Salt River and the day before around Papago, I played one last desperate, domestic card. I tried to get Mom and Dad to solve my problems. With dusty, tear-streaked face I swung by the folks' place, as they also host Flickers around their property. Although the shady seating and cold beer was consoling, GIFL still eluded us. 

Psht. Costa's Hummingbird is cooler anyway. 

Cheetahs Sometimes Prosper: Rare Looks at non-Rare Birds and yet more Chasing

It was another weekend of frenetic chasing for Butler's Birds. My recent weekend endeavors have been restricted to half-days, or part time birding, which doesn't even qualify me for birding health insurance. Without having as much time for the regular, inefficient ambling I so normally enjoy, this means maximizing the 7am-12pm slot with the surer bet in terms of good birds. In other words, I've totally been poaching other people's discoveries. First it was the Sprague's Pipit and then a Harris's Sparrow, both of which showed up as buzzer-beaters just before high noon. This weekend I was back at the Santa Cruz Flats, not too far from the SPPI patch, searching out some birds for which I did not have time to look during previous outings. Trying to balance birding with other things that aren't birding is the worst.  

In one of the remote corners of the Flats is an abandoned property, a chained-off house surrounded by elm and pecan trees as well as sycamore, cyprus, and pomegranate. The space is unoccupied by humans, but its water supply seems to be steady and this surprisingly lush little patch serves as a fantastic migrant trap that has turned up Rufous-backed Robin, Ruddy Ground-Dove, and Spotted Owl in years past. More recently, it has been hosting Black-throated Blue Warbler, American Redstart, and Summer Tanager (early).  

Verdins really want attention, and in a sparse desert landscape I'd recommend giving it to them, but one must keep one's eyes on the prize and ignore their overtures in dense vegetation where vagrants abound.

The BTBW was found end of last December, with the other two birds of note being found by ensuing recovery operations. BTBW is a rare bird for AZ, in that it's not annual, but the truly astounding circumstance was that this warbler, along with his wayward buddies, has stayed happily plopped in this same area for a month and a half, plus he seemed to have left his change of clothes in Michigan or wherever. The worryingly mild winter we've experienced so far has some silver lining I suppose--southern migrants and vagrants lose their urgency to move on.
The BTBW spot is private property and that bird likes it some thick cover in most circumstances, which meant getting clean looks and photos was always going to be a challenge even when the bird did appear. Luckily there was plenty else to observe in the area. Western Meadowlarks serenaded sweetly from cover in the alfalfa fields across the street, and a male Vermilion Flycatcher was displaying and boasting his territory around the yard.

 

VEFL would have to be considered an expected bird in this area, even common, but this fellow granted me some uncommonly good looks while I was waiting for the BTBW, at one point perching very near and doing some calisthenics. Winter never really settled into Arizona this year--even the higher elevations areas are mostly devoid of snow--and what normally starts in March or April for resident birds seems to be starting now.

People had been reporting the birds in different trees at different areas throughout different times of day, most of which were later than when I was looking. A row of smaller elm trees seemed the likeliest early morning stomping grounds for a 'throated' Warbler. Sure enough, specific scrutiny of these trees yielded the BTBW pretty quickly. Check out this action!

Yes, even with a facemelter like ol' Black-throated Blue, these sorts of taunting looks grew stale after a while. The Warbler was just being himself, but those intrinsic proclivities combined with the property restrictions to keep him more or less concealed. 

To liven things up, the female American Redstart made her appearance soon after. She was more apt to forage in an adjacent sycamore or mulberry trees, which were predominantly leafless. However, this also afforded her a higher range and was even further from the road. All this is to say, having crumby looks at great birds is a bittersweet symphony. Later this weekend I was also afforded an equally good bird in AZ with equally poor looks, in the form of the Chestnut-sided Warbler below.

Over the next hour or so, both birds offered brief looks, with the BTBW making the almost fatal (for me) mistake of showing his whole self at one point, which caused me to have a stroke in half of myself. If time were on my side, I would've sat there all day waiting for that perfect moment--such a bird as this is worth it. But there was also a Greater Pewee on the other side of town to try for, and time is seldom on my side...

Ah well, BTBW will be in Tennessee and Carolina this summer, as will I. What will not be there? Vermilion Flycatchers. Crush 'em while you got 'em.

Bluffing Bandits and Foggy-headed Birding

Friday and Saturday were, once again, the setting for some pretty impressive deluges throughout the valley. This made Sunday, Superbowl Sunday, the only viable birding day this weekend. Bearing that in mind, and the fact that Glendale, AZ, was hosting the party, I decided to forego the temptation of chasing a Greater Pewee in west Phoenix. Greater Pewee is a great bird in Maricopa, especially in winter, especially in the lowlands where it was found. But between the weather and the traffic, I decided to chase on the east side of town and hitched my birding raft onto the Salt River. 

The Coon Bluff site is one of my favorites in Maricopa, combining interesting geology with some flowing water and a very healthy mesquite bosque. This habitat doesn't yield that many crazy rarities, but what birds it does have it has in abundance; they tend to be reliable, readily visible, and they tend to be awesome. Driving down to the river there was heavy fog settled in from the previous days' precipitation, and for the first hour or so my camera lens collected moisture enough to make it inoperable. As visibility improved, it revealed an eerie, primordial hollow that smelled wonderful. 

Coon Bluff is unofficially the Phainopepla capital of Arizona. They are, by far, the most numerous, vocal, and conspicuous bird around the bosque. For the most part, these birds are not overly friendly to photography, but with so many of them about the odds eventually pay off. The male below was perched eye level on the side of the road, of course before the fog was letting through much light. I have no good examples this time, but if you want to crush silky flycatchers, come to this place.

For sure, the Phainopeplas are a very impressive, abstract kind of cool, kinda like people that are very good at cooking oriental food or are very good at dancing to a specific kind of music. Another common aerial acrobat at Coon Bluff, the Vermilion Flycatcher, is a different kinda cool, like a trans-genre red corvette everyone acknowledges this bird is cool, kinda cool.



Then there is the Gray Flycatcher, the least eye-catching of these three. It tends to perch lower in the canopy and, in typical empid fashion, is pretty drab. But the simple fact that despite these proclivities they're willing to mix it up with their more aggressive and colorful neighbors is a testament to their fortitude. Since they make one work a little harder for the visual than the other two species, these tail-bobbing fiends have more mystique as well. I appreciate that they are willing to winter in the area. Waiting until spring for any empids would be nigh unbearable.

Do you ever go up to your perch in the morning for a nice preen and get the feeling, well, that someone is watching you? Someone robed in black, with red devil eyes and maniacal hair? This is but a day in the terrifying life of a Ladder-backed Woodpecker, and many other birds who must live near Phainopeplas. After all, those silky flycatchers nest in mistletoe; they do not respect personal space or boundaries.

Ladder-backed Woodpeckers do not have an expansive range, continentally speaking, and in some areas they're certainly more common than others (Coon Bluff being a common area), but in my experiences they are an extremely adaptable, hardy woodpecker with a very diversified lifestyle portfolio. I have seen them in mesquite bosque, cottonwood riparian, montane oak and pine, sagebrush, and even urban habitats. I suppose it's easy to move upward in the world when one comes equipped with one's own ladder.

I am mostly including this photo because I had not previously registered Brown Creeper at Coon Bluff. While we're at it though, check out the massive hallux on that guy.

Kingfisher activity is very good along the Salt River, which is also reliable for Mergansers and many species of duck nearer the Granite Reef dam. There was a Bald Eagle perched on the far shore, but these NECOs did not seem intimidated.

Coon Bluff has a few well known attractions. I was heading there to look for a Harris's Sparrow in the overgrown clearings amidst the bosque. This bird was discovered a week or so ago in a mixed flock. They're almost annual and this would only be a year bird, but I had no photos to date, plus it's a sweet sparrow.
This is not the attraction for everyone. Most hikers and naturalists in the area come for the semi-famous Coon Bluff "wild" horses (there's a heated, ongoing 'feral' vs' 'wild' debate). They like to graze in the area and, uh, hang out in the shade.

People in the area will often stop and ask if one has seen the horses--which are relatively easy compared to skulking sparrows. It coincided on Sunday that several of the creatures were lazing around the area where the HASP was last seen, which contributed a fair amount of extra vehicular and pedestrian traffic. Fair enough; they are pretty cool.

The HASP had fallen in with a group of White-crowned Sparrows and was being seen somewhat regularly, but this still meant sorting through a lot of different mixed flocks. You know that annoying thing when you're counting in your head and then someone interrupts you and you lose the number? It's kinda like that every time the different WCSP flocks kick up, mix around, settle down, and leave you scanning again from square one. 

Rummaging around in the morning yielded all of the nifty birds above and some other FOYs, but no rare sparrows. As the day wore on, I figured the HASP might have retreated farther from its usual haunt, given the extra commotion relating to the horses. As I headed further away, I ran into birder friend Gordon, who had seen the sparrow a bit earlier. With that bit of encouragement I continued away from the road, redirecting two more lost hikers who were hoping to find horses on the way.
As with the Sprague's Pipit the week before, it was crunch time with an 11:30am departure. I spotted a small flock of WCSP, mostly immature, and in their midst was the comparative demigod Harris's Sparrow. Another buzzer-beater!

Yes, there is horse scat in the foreground of all of these and many other photos. I'm pretty sure these horses fertilize most of the eastern Salt River valley, and now also my shoes and my left knee.

The HASP also continued the SPPI trend of leaving it late and providing poor looks at a great bird. These photos are not meritorious enough to enter the HASP fairly into the Butler's Birds Sparrow Judging contest, but some day perhaps he will make do what his WCSP companions never could, and take the crown.

Alas 2014, I knew Thee Well.

Ha! A ha ha! A ha! ha! ha!
You thought you were finished. You thought you had seen the last of the end of the year birdosphere posts until the end of next December, but you were wrong! Butler's Birds has been biding it's time 100% of the time all the time forever the time, and waiting for just such a moment of let-down guards to bust out its own 2014 Wrap Up! Much like nitrogen, water, carbon, rocks, and an environmentally conscious pre-disgraced Lance Armstrong, Butler's Birds is recycling! Without much further adieu, here's an insufferable look at some of the superlatives from 2014, mostly to remind 2015 to get its act together.

Best Birding Experience:

On the whole, 2014 was probably the best birding year I've weathered. I made trips to Texas, Carolina, and the San Francisco Bay area in addition to the far flung corners of Arizona after birds. North Carolina offered such fantastic birds as Red-cockaded Woodpecker, Prothonotary Warbler, and a nemesis Barred Owl (never mind on that backstory). The Half Moon Bay Pelagic out of San Francisco likewise offered lifer upon lifer, and I also met up with and learned from major dorks Steve, Nate, and Jen (no, we did not see actual whales nor whale accessories on the trip).

Even so, the award for best birding experience goes to my central/south Texas trip. It was every ounce an analgesic dose of near-unreality, a surreal escape coming after a grueling year of work and personal hardship to boot. The Texas trip was also one I had to postpone from the previous summer when I had reconstructive knee and shoulder surgery, so there was all the additional expectation and anticipation going into it; it did not disappoint at all. 

I lived in a car for several days, "showered" at a public restroom that had no showers, ate at a Cracker Barrel that had no food, tried to bird at sites that no longer exist, split crumby HoJo motels with Iowa's Voice, lifered like crazy, crushed a lot of birds, got drunk most nights, got sunburnt most mornings, and had every ounce the birding trip I was hoping for. There'll be more specifics on some of those TX birds later. For now, make unwavering eye contact with this flamboyant Texan swamp chicken. 

Worst Birding Experience:

There were plenty of outings in 2014 that resulted in nothing of consequence, no great finds or photographs, or even great looks at much at all. But most of these forays were unambitious and less than energetic; I kinda new they'd be busts from early on. The most disappointing trip award goes to my September weekend in the White Mountains. I went with some friends for a couple days' camping and hiking, planning to scour the Mt. Baldy wilderness for Dusky Grouse and Pine Grosbeak among other things. The day we left, the highway was shut down for a wreck, delaying us for about 3 hours so we got to the campsite super late. Everybody was way too tired to hike the following day and some people got sick, so we ended up calling the trip early by mutual consent (myself included). I was very lucky to get a lifer Gray Jay on the brief, unascendant hike we did make, but relative to the potential and expectation I had for this trip, plus the costs of gas, campsite reservations, and a weekend, it was a pretty big bust bird-wise. Next summer it shall be done right. I even have a highly portable hammock now, cruise to snooze! 

Coolest Non-Birding Find:

Definitely the two rattlesnakes making the beast with several backs at Robbins Butte in west Maricopa County. It's not often one sees rattlers, and it's even less often one sees rattlers making more rattlers.

 

Best Bird Seen While Going to the Bathroom in Nature:

I know of three birders at least who keep track of birds they've seen defecating. This is right on, a thing most worth doing. For a slightly different take, I invert those roles and keep a list of birds that have seen me doing the business in one way or another. Granted, this sort of list is sketchy because whenever one sees a cool bird one can just drop trou and add it, but hey so much else in birding is on the honor system, and this list is legit. 2013 set the bar pretty high with Spotted Owl and Flame-colored x Western Tanager. The best bird added this year to the BBMD: Western Tanager.

Worst Miss/Worst Bird of 2014:

Trying for the Fulvous Whistling-Duck three times in December and coming up empty probably takes the cake, though that is also the most recent in memory. I was also pretty missed at logging Costa's Hummingbird at 5:37pm, 37 minutes after the 5:00pm deadline for my TGC in December.
But this sort of award, generally speaking is similar to the "Worst Experience," so I'm going to tweak it now to the "worst" bird, a bird I did see but at which I am still pissed off until I get a formal apology. I've already caught flak for blaspheming the admittedly great and valuable Chiricahua Mountains, but apart from my cheery little campsite, the hiking and birding there was freaking terrible. Nonetheless, I flushed a Short-tailed Hawk and found the much-vexing Mexican Chickadee. It took two days of hotter than expected hiking, less than expected water, a beaten up car, and various other blood prices. So glad I did it, so glad it's over (I'll definitely be back in the Chiris, but it will be so much less stressful now).   

Best Birds of 2014:

Enough pessimism huh!? In 2014, my face was melted so much I felt one of the Nazis from an Indiana Jones movie. For being such good sports and bearing with all my bitching, not just in this post but throughout the year, here are my 10 favorite birds from 2014 for which I also have decent photos (Buff-colored Nightjar would otherwise, certainly, be on this list):

10: Sabine's Gull: This bird trailed behind us on the HMB Pelagic in an unusual show of friendliness. It was a truly foreign bird for an Arizonan, and it was also in super sexy plumage, unlike many other birds we saw that day.
#slightlylessgulliblein2014

9: Chestnut-sided Warbler: This bird is rare but annual in Arizona winters, so the vagrants are always in non-breeding plumage. This situation is one of the greater tragedies in many western birders' lives. I saved myself for this looker of a bird. It was worth it, when we came together on the Appalachian Trail in North Carolina. 

#warblersinspiregreaticecreamflavors

8: Canada Warbler: This bird, another Carolina lifer, is not annual in Arizona. Vireos ogle its goggles with great envy and prissy princesses do the same for it's ebony carcanet. Jaw dropper. Game changer. Jaw changer? Yes.
#it'saboottime

7: Red-headed/Red-cockaded Woodpecker: I'm a sucker for Woodpeckers, and I saw some great ones this summer. They are so equally great, in fact, that I'm putting both of them as a conjoined #7. Red-headed Woodpecker is probably one of the most gorgeous birds in North America, and Red-cockaded is a rare, threatened, and declining species, while also being a lot of fun in their very specific habitat. Red-headed was an NC lifer in 2014 while Red-cockaded graduated from the heard-only list. #headbangers

6: Golden-cheeked Warbler: Endangered and protected, these Texas specialties can be hard to come by. I went after these early breeders somewhat late in the season. Nonetheless, at the Kerr WMA (which also had public showers--thank you Kerr WMA) I found a foraging family of three with one juvenile bird. The parents stayed near the canopy but the young guy came down for close views, making this relatively rare and range-restricted Warbler species also one of my best viewed Warbler species. 

#getthemwhiletheyreyoung

5: Yellow-green Vireo: I saw a lot of incredibly cool birds in Texas and Carolina last summer, but the YGVI was probably the rarest of the bunch. It didn't show extremely well for me, but the circumstances of the sighting were compensatory. I was at Blucher Park in Corpus Christi looking for any super late Chuck-Wills-Widows (no dice) and stumbled across this bird. Not having read a TX listserv since beginning my trip it felt pretty great, and looked even better. To boot, it vocalized often and well. **This bird had been discovered weeks before.
#tootmyownhorn

4: Prothonotary Warbler: They said, "No PRWA, you've got too much yellow on already," but he kept putting on more. "Please stop, PRWA, you're becoming overloaded." He continued to up the ante. "For sake of all that is holy, PRWA, you're like a singing ball of sulphur!" Yes, yes he is. This bird provided the best looks and best audio of any warbler I saw in 2014--what a champ. 

#dontcarewhereyourcamefromitsstillnotgoodenough

3. Groove-billed Ani: Pretty high mark for this shabby, zygodactylic goth cuckoo eh? We found two birds early in the morning at Resaca de la Palma, and another at Sabal Palms the same day. It was a trip to hear them vocalize, and my mostly blurry photos were entirely the result of early morning overcast and not these birds' shyness. The Ani was one of my most anticipated species, one I had looked at and thought about in guide books for many years. It's such a peculiar bird, especially to be seen in North America, that the importance and fulfillment I attached to its sighting outweighed that of more colorful competitors. Also, have I mentioned before that a group of Anis is called a cooch?

#acoochinthehandisbetterthanoneinthebush

2: Black-capped Vireo: The heartbreak of not crushing these properly was still far overshadowed by the satisfaction in finding them. Like the Ani, the special, peculiar aesthetic of these birds stuck in my mind for many years. Throw in the fact that they're a threatened species and this was the first really good (and not easy, like PABU or STFL) bird I saw on my Texas trip, the bird that got things rolling, and it's one of the best memories of 2014 birding. That head is so shocking.
#Iwillreturnforyou



1: Common Paraque: I could stare at this bird's intricate patterns for days on end. Hell, I have stared at this bird's plumage for days on end--but always secondarily, from photos and other renditions. This species is found very reliably at Estero Llano Grande during the right time of year, and many people have obtained crushing photos of them from their well-known haunt. When I arrived at the park, the docents told me nobody had seen any for a while. I then ran into a very snooty birdwalk leader who scoffed at the very idea when I inquired if his group had seen any: "Psht, no. Good luck finding one now. They're all moved back into the dense vegetation (a.k.a "don't point out my failing in front of my tour group buddy; I'm trying to score here").
It took some hours of desultory searching, random wandering and accrued sunburn. And then all of the sudden, by chance looking at that exact spot, THERE IT WAS. No doubt, in retrospect, this was not the rare or incredible find it felt like, but that adrenaline rush had me going for hours. Of course, I quietly photographed the bird and marked the spot (simultaneously adding it to my BBMD List haha kidding/not kidding) so I could go find my birder buddy. But never, never when birding by myself (and y'all know what I'm talking about; it's different when birding with people who can high five you back) have I celebrated such a find before--running, jumping, shouting, making an ass of myself, the whole nine yards. This was one of the main birds for which I came to Texas. Adversity was overcome. My face melted even more than the celebratory ice cream I'd been carrying in my pocket all day. Far and away my favorite bird and individual sighting of 2014.
#glory

What misadventures will 2015 hold? Well, hopefully karma is looking the other way.