Rousseau Farms--Parsing through Pipit Parts

Before this weekend, I had predetermined to undertake a most grueling task, one which could well prove unfulfilling and, more than likely, unsuccessful. For 2014, I set more limited birding parameters for myself. I decided to make some trips to wrap up my state list, picking up those tricky southeastern species (still need Baird's Sparrow, Short-eared Owl, White-eared Hummer, Short-tailed Hawk, Mexican Chickadee, Sinaloa Wren) but otherwise spend most of my weekends birding around Maricopa and maybe turning up some good finds closer to home. I've been feeling rather guilty lately about my very meager contribution to the birding listservs and general ornithological culture. Granted, unlike many of the retirees, I'm only getting out to bird once a week, at most, but it still has been too long since I turned up some good discoveries, found my own rare birds, etc.

Somewhere in this dilapidated mess of bok-choy there may, in fact, be a good bird.

So, that rambling anecdote amounts to a half-assed explanation of why, this weekend, the Butler's Birds machine (which is currently sporting quite a bit of duct tape on its fender) rumbled out east onto the Rousseau Sod and Agricultural Farms. I had not seen a single listserv report for this site since the beginning of autumn, and I have a perverse weakness for sleuthing through the little brown birds that can be found in these imitation prairies. The targets were Longspurs, a genus of which I have absolutely no photos, and, foremost, a Sprague's Pipit.

No, of course this isn't a Sprague's Pipit perched on the bok-choy. This is an American Pipit, one of many hundreds of near-identical birds that would be subject to heavy and heavy-breathing scrutiny.

Apart from a Sprague's Pipit being found here years ago, the generally favorable, habitat, and the preponderance of American Pipits around, there was no particular reason to expect such a bird, but one has to start somewhere, and at least the Rousseau Farms have been under-birded of late. Sprague's would be a life bird for me and one I'd like to get in AZ, and their habitat cross-over with wintering Longspurs was killing two birds with one stone, so to speak. There was no plan of attack for the Longspurs. I figured there was a one in ten chance that I'd happen upon some in the open, or, much more likely (and which did happen), hear the call note and see a group vanish into some alfalfa.

This fellow was the first candidate for Sprague's Pipit, given the brightly colored legs.  However, on actual inspection (meaning, looking beyond the first, quick, pre-binocular/photo inspection) the legs aren't pink, and even if the face is pretty plain, the breast and flanks are too heavily blotched, relative to Sprague's. Plus there's not much streaking on the head. Only a simpering fool would really have even given this bird a second glance. Or not, I dunno.

I must confess to another motivation in this excursion, one which will no doubt baffle any normal person, or any person whose nerdy proclivities (and I think we all have them) don't incline him or her towards birds. For that matter, this confession may even confound many the birder in the audience. 

I really like Pipits. I salivate at the prospect of peeping on Pipits. I kreen and kroon, and slam on the brakes. I will crawl through the dust, and even eat the dust if need be, or by accident, or just to try it, if it will get me good looks at Pipits.
To expand on this minor obsession a bit, this applies to any Wagtail, but the American Pipit is the only one we in AZ have got. Combine their infectious tail-bobbing with their subtle, intricate, and infinitely diverse plumage, their prodigious hallux, and the fact that they're pretty fearless compared to most other LBJs, and you've got a real champion of the economy of style.

This Pipit, of course, was in no way a candidate for Sprague's, for all of the same reasons mentioned with the bird above, plus it has obviously dark legs. 

In addition to pandering towards my perverse and painful Pipit proclivity, the Rousseau Farms also afford some easy safari style birding. Birding from the car doesn't always provide better photos ops, but it's always more comfortable in those winter mornings.
Savannah Sparrows are a very appropriate bird to photograph while safari-style birding, all the more so because they usually would not tolerate an approach on foot.

 "To hide a tree, use a forest," as the old proverb goes. In a field full of broccoli, there is no better protected perch than broccoli. RWBBs are repositories of ancient wisdom.

 I don't relish time with Horned Larks as much as with Pipits, which may indeed be a sign of serious mental debilitation since Horned Larks are way sexier birds. I still do enjoy getting to crush them though, when those uncommon opportunities present themselves.

Most prairie type birds, raptors excepted, lead a pretty humble, unassuming existence. But the comparably ostentatious Horned Lark conveys a clear sense of superiority. Its perches, its struts, its call notes...they are all saturated with the highfalutin self-assurance that it is, on any given day, the prettiest bird on the Arizona prairie. Some day, I pray, a Red-throated Pipit will show up and rain on their parade. On that day I will ride over in an ambulance, preempting death by subsequent cardiac arrest.
In the mean time:

The Pipits, the Larks, the Sparrows, the Longspurs...they're the party going on down below, raving in the tall grass, but of course there's another level to the hierarchy, a hegemony of hawks and falcons dourly perching overhead.

Here is a very normal looking Red-tailed Hawk, which is unusual only because there doesn't seem to be much unusual about him. Big, grungy, and successful all over north American...the Red-tailed Hawk is what so many death metal bands never could be. 

Red-tailed Hawks and American Kestrels littered the utility lines with expected frequency. A couple Prairie Falcons, by far the most skittish of Maricopa Raptors in my experience, also made appearances.
An intermediate Red-tailed Hawk made for a refreshing sight. Of course, we can't rule out that this bird is the production of some Swainson's x Harris's x Red-tail hybirdizing eh?

"You speak nonsense and heresy sir! Good day!"

Floating weirdly close to this Red-tail, in a weirdly otherwise uninhabited canal, weirdly without spooking and flying off like all the other canal-dwelling Mallards and Coots did during the day, was this weirdly lone Canvasback drake. He was just chillin', cold as ice and cool as a cucumber.

The Red-tailed Hawks were the biggest bullies on the block, but they weren't the most numerous raptor, especially away from their precious utility lines. I counted 13 Northern Harriers, 6 more than I counted RTHA, and of these 13 there were 8 males, which seems a very high distribution.

If the Red-tail rules the power lines, this Silver-backed Harrier, undoubtedly, rules his green onion field with an iron talon. He played a game of thrones with the other Harriers, and eventually expanded his territory into the neighboring, peaceful alfalfa with ruthless wingbeats.

Many Harriers were, predictably, harrying above the open fields. Some also stayed closer to the irrigation venules and often flew down the channels, perhaps concealing their movements from potential prey or rivals. Their target was only two meters wide, at the end of the trench, so they had to use proton torpedos...

None the hunting Harriers were successful, from what I saw, and even though I must wait and bide time until I get that much-coveted Harrier close-up (or go to Antelope Island in Utah), I enjoyed taking some scene shots of the prowling birds with purple mountains majesty in the background.

Yes yes, I know, raptors are great, but it's time to get back to business, back to the reason we're all here, the reason birders get up in the morning. The little brown birds and their onerous identification separates the men from the boys, the women from the boys, the boys from the babies, and the cafeteria birders from the hardcore nitty-gritty put-that-Pipit-in-your-mouth-to-analyze-by-taste birders.

Taste is not required to parse out that this a clear, even handsome, specimen of American Pipit

Many of the Pipits were busy foraging, keeping low, but not invisibly low, to their sod fields or other preferred pastures. Some were also busy preening, or just smelling to see if a shower was in order. 

He knows that one of the 573 Pipits out on the sod fields is kinda bug-eyed and doesn't quite fit in. He know's it's one of those weird Sprague's, the ignored, awkward distant cousin at the family reunion. But he will not say where.

This is not the first time I've put some heavy crush on American Pipits, and it will not be the last. To those of you who are being good sports and and just enduring these boring brown bird photos, thanks for hanging in there, we're almost done.

Actually, that's not true. There are several more Pipit specimens to examine, but you can take an intermission here with this brazen Say's "I perch where I want" Phoebe. 

Although I started my tour of the Rousseau farm landscape on the Alma School/McDonald road, the best pipitting was on the south side of the drier sod fields a mile or two from McDonald, past the little refinery and a couple of residences. The numbers were highest here and I had some of my most promising, if inconclusive, sightings.

This guy is an Am. Pipit, for sure, but I just want to point out that he has a gigantic, bulbous head.

The Pipit below, also an American, was a bit of a puzzler for a little while, until I was able to get closer looks. He seemed to be feeding differently from the other Pipits, darting forward and backwards in a hectic fashion, and his tail bobbed not-a-once. While his back exhibits some very light streaking, its nowhere near the darker scaling one would expect on a Sprague's Pipit. Bummer.

Here is another Say's Phoebe, because they're bodacious birds, even if common, and because he landed like three feet away from me, just begging to be made famous (chose the wrong blogger/photographer for that).

So, finally, here's my best candidate for Sprague's Pipit, and of course it's a power line bird, so many of the distinguishing features are obscured. I should say right off that the spotting on the breast looks too large and dark for Sprague's, and the white malar stripe is probably too pronounced for Sprague's as well, so not exactly off to a great start. Additionally, the back, top of head, and legs are all blocked.

And yet, something still seems kinda...Spraguey about this bird. It wasn't perching like the other Pipits and its lower breast and belly were very clean. Its eye seemed larger and more bug-eyed than American (a good sign) and the supercilium was wider and blends with the orbital ring more than on the other Americans I saw. The beak also seemed thinner and pointier. That all being said, it's not enough for a clean ID, not even close. I did not report this bird to eBird nor on my list, and so the Sprague's search continues. Readers may thus consider this time in the field, much like time spent reading this post, to have been poorly spent, but I'll contend it was a lovely morning with plenty of enjoyable, if predominantly beige birding. Lacking a solid ID on the Sprague's wasn't the greatest possible ending to the day, but it was the most likely, and, most bestest of all, I have reason to go back pipiting again.

'Merican Pipit

Also known as the Buff-bellied Pipit, this bird isn't the biggest, the strongest, the loudest, or the wealthiest, but it's still 100% American; just look at its name! They love open farmland and fields and have some seriously big hitch-hiking thumbs. What could be more rural American than that? Nothing, that's what!

They don't have a lot of flash, but American Pipits make the most of their subtle colors, combining buffy yellows and browns in a varying and charming color combination. They can be found on all agricultural land or sod farms in the Arizona throughout the winter. Sometimes there will just be individuals, maybe even mixing it up with Savannah Sparrows, and sometimes there will be large flocks over 100 strong.

I stopped to photograph this handsome fellow while driving around Pretzer road in the Santa Cruz flats. Somewhat like shore-birding, I'd scan the Pipit parties looking for a pair of pink legs, the tell-tale sign of the much rarer and highly prized Sprague's Pipit. No luck on the Sprague's yet, but it's really fun to observe these tail-bobbing foragers; they're pretty tolerant and allow for a close approach.

The American Pipits are a nice change in the LBJ (little brown job) department from all the White-crowned Sparrows too. They've got that quintessential bird pose, with the 60 degree angled posture and  longer legs. Ya know, the more I think about it, the more I think this bird is quite beautiful.

It was pretty sweet to get good looks at these birds while merely en route to other destinations. Bonus!

Recharging the Birding Fun at the Glendale Recharge Ponds

I don't know what it is this winter, but the clouds seem determined to congregate only on the weekends.  It was a fairly mild Saturday morning birding in Tempe, so today I decided to check out the Glendale Recharge ponds on the west side of town despite the weather. The Glendale ponds are operated by the SRP electric/water company and have varying water levels throughout the year. Their wider diameter and relative seclusion from the city noise makes them an ideal location for wintering waterfowl, including Goldeneye and Buffleheads, two ducks I've yet to see.

The recharge ponds are sandwiched in the no-man's land between the Glendale municipal airport and the new NFL stadium. There's a lot of big and important air traffic going in and out of Glendale, lots of messages to send...

Alas, this was the only Cardinal that I saw today.

When I arrived, I was a bit discouraged to see that the water levels were in fact very, very low. This meant I wouldn't be seeing many ducks, but it was also a boon in that I could now traverse much closer to where the birds were feeding out in the muck. With high water, you obviously have to keep to the banks, which reduces one to scope/binocular views only. Although it was very overcast, I probably would not have gotten good pictures with high water levels and good sunlight either, since everything would've been so far away. Given that the cloudy skies seemed to really encourage the birds, I was happy enough with the circumstances. But be forewarned, dear reader, this will be a very brown and muddy post.

There are about 6 ponds in total, and although they were all similarly drained, there was still an abundance of waders, peeps, and shorebirds out in the gunk.
The first bird of the day was a Greater Yellowlegs, and he was spending his Sunday savoring the last puddles of swamp. Although he was alone, there were maybe 16 Yellowlegs seen in total, and for the most part they were the largest waders around the ponds.

The Least Sandpipers were definitely the most numerous. I stopped counting after I passed 150; they were all over the place. I'm not sure if this little guy was looking for food or just admiring his reflection. It made me think though, how curious it must be to see one's reflection every time one goes to take a bite of food, to have to peck through one's own countenance for every tasty morsel.

At the opposite end of the size spectrum, there were probably a dozen Great Blue Herons perched on fences and in the trees around the complex. I didn't see a single one down in the ponds, probably because the lack of water meant there was a lack of fish.

With the water levels being so low and the ponds so wide, I decided to start cutting straight through instead of walking around the basins. The idea was both to save on time and to get some better looks at whatever was in the middle of the ponds, where the little bit of water still remained. This plan also had the advantage of keeping what little sunlight there was concentrated behind me, though it had the disadvantage of covering my shoes in smelly mud. It worked out pretty well, and I was able to add two more birds to my Life List that I would have likely otherwise missed.

That is not to say I came away with dynamite photos or anything. Believe it or not, there are 5 Horned Larks hanging out in there, and believe it or not they were quite beautiful. I had been expecting to see some Horned Larks this winter, but was not really expecting to find them in the middle of a drying lake bed, so even despite their skittishness it was a very pleasant surprise. It seems like a new bird sighting and good photos seldom go hand-in-hand anyway, so there were no hard feeling as the Larks kept their distance.



There were a lot of American Pipits running around the pond interiors as well, and they too were a new bird for me. Though they stayed in constant motion, they were more self-confident than the nearby Larks and Sandpipers. Pipits seem kind of unremarkable, like a cross between a Song Sparrow and a Yellow-Rumped Warbler instead of being a clear and unique species. Their tendency to flick and wag their tails, and their longer thumb/rear toe sets them apart.

Even though I wasn't anticipating any Pipits, they're pretty common in the right habitats, and they gave me frequent sightings throughout the morning. As with many of those little brown birds, there's still a lot to appreciate in their muted plumage.

While I was ambling around the northern-most ponds, a single Sandhill Crane flew overhead. At least, that's what I thought it was. The long legs hung out behind the lanky bird and it had a much stubbier beak than a Great Blue Heron. I couldn't make out any color on the bird though, and I still don't feel confident enough to write it down. As I set out in pursuit of the possible Crane, hoping it'd settle in the nearby farmland for some grazing (it didn't), I almost stepped on this Rock Wren.

He flew away and then stood very erect and very indignantly with his back towards me, letting me know that we were no longer friends.

At this point I had surveyed most of the ponds and the nearby farmland, which was inhabited entirely by Blackbirds and Mourning Doves. Perhaps the largest overall attraction of the day was the selection of Raptors that were hanging out on the outskirts of area. In addition to the basins, there's an adjoining (and unfortunately off-limits) flood/overflow-zone with a small stream and lots of higher trees and shrubs that were very popular with the bigger birds.



I followed this riparian area south while heading back to the car, and that last 30 minutes of birding yielded 6 Red-Tailed Hawks, 2 Cooper's Hawks, 1 Sharp-Shinned, 2 Osprey, and 1 Loggerhead Shrike.There were also abundances of Chipping Sparrows, Song Sparrows, Yellow-Rumped Warblers, Abert's Towhees, House Finches, and Gnatcatchers along the stream, and I could hear Kingfishers calling even though they stayed out of sight.



The last bird of the day was this smaller raptor (maybe 14 inches), who was perched on the telephone pole where I had parked. She took off right as I raised the camera and the resulting photo is just blurry and dark enough to end the day with a question mark. My original guess was a juvenile Sharp-Shinned Hawk, but I think it may actually be a Merlin.

The cloudy weather is supposed to hold through midday tomorrow--when I was planning on exploring the Gilbert Water Ranch for some rumored Lawrence's Goldfinches. Let's hope those clouds have a bust up and decide to part ways!