Binge Birding in the Santa Ritas

I mentioned some romping reckless birding a couple of weeks ago, where a lovely evening at a friend's house was followed by a drive down to the Santa Rita Mountains, an all-nighter sort of jaunt the likes of which would make cool cool college Butler cringe and think, "gross."

This rash decision making, and rash-making decision, was largely un-vindicated as well, since I did not get visuals on any of the nocturnal targets for which I left so early. But ya know what? I'm going to do it again anyway, and soon, because they are all still there, and probably a Buff-collared Nightjar too. 

Every dark night has its dawn, as various motivational posters around our offices remind us, and even if the dawn is still kinda gloomy and overcast, it does allow for  better overall birding. After visually-dipping on my Madera Canyon targets, I went down the block to Florida. Rufous-capped Warblers are still resident in the canyon, though seemingly higher up now than they were in previous years. I had poor looks at one individual and no photos, but the diversity at Florida Canyon was impressive. Because there's nothing more impressive than distant Canyon Towhees.

Or distant Harriers, harrying along on their way. This bird is a bit late in the season, perhaps lingering behind in search of her missing primary feathers.

In the area where I had luck with RCWAs in previous years, there was male Indigo Bunting, flagged by eBird as rare for the time and place. The bird may be a slightly wayward migrant, but rather curiously I heard the bird before seeing it, and it continued to sing throughout while I was in the area. This is uncharacteristic of migrant INBUs in my limited experience.



Lower Florida Canyon has a terrific mix of riparian vegetation and chaparral, where one can consistently see objectively good looking birds like Black-headed Grosbeak, as well as soon-to-be objectively good-looking birds, like 1st year Scott's Orioles.

Currently, the biggest buzz about Florida Canyon is not the resident tropical Warblers, but a nesting pair of Black-capped Gnatcatchers that are normally very visible near the parking area (and an on-again, off-again Rufous-backed Robin in the adjacent wash). I was not able to locate the BCGN nest (not that it would've done much good anyway), but the male and female were both actively foraging with a devil-may-care attitude, which was a cruel attitude for them to have with such poor lighting.

Inappropriate flashing is a problem with bird and nature photography as well as with city parks and gas stations late at night. But as I've been trying my hand more often at nocturnal birding, it has been something with which I've had to try and make some peace and practice, which means flashing birds in the daytime as well. The truth is, of course, that having a good flash is super useful. It gives you control over the most important and most variable element in photography--light. Too much flash just feels kinda unnatural though, especially at nicer parks or gas stations, and I also predominantly don't like the effect it has on daytime photos, but I do like the effect of getting a damn photo. Note the weak, broken eye-ring, shallow cap, and longer beak of this male BCGN as compared to BTGN. 

Now it would be foolish, committably insane even, to spend time in the Santa Ritas in late spring (or summer) and not make a concerted effort at seeing Trogons. Carrie Nation and other trails have consistent reports this year, but the Super Trail in Upper Madera Canyon has always been good to me. This time around it had to be hard-earned, and it wasn't until after a couple miles that I sighted a pair. In keeping with the damp, mellow aesthetic of the day, the birds I sighted were silent the whole time and the male pulled a quality disappearing act that belied his flamboyant coloration. Trying to track Mrs. Trogon through the dense vegetation and steep canyon walls was as exerting as it was rewarding. 

It was a little disappointing not to be treated to the enchanting, hoarse croaks of the Elegant Trogon, but  some counter-calling Greater Pewees  were compensatory. Ornithological America agrees; this bird should have been named Greatest Pewee.

Factoring in the misses and the zombified-state in which I returned to Phoenix, the trip was draining but fulfilling at the same time, gross in some ways but beautiful in others, joyful and yet somewhat dampened. But time spent in the Santa Ritas is always time well-spent; this trip was perhaps most analogous to a soggy Painted Redstart, very pretty but short of its potential.

One and Only Patagonia

The Spotted Owls at Miller Canyon were a miss yet again, but like any good birders, we had a contingency plan in Patagonia. Sure, there are some other famous Patagonias in the world, but nine out of ten birders agree that Arizona's is the best. By heading southwest and then looping back up towards the Santa Ritas, we'd be able to spend several hours in this veritable birding mecca of southern Arizona, and that's really saying something for the area. We hoped to find a lifer Black-capped Gnatcatcher at Patagonia State Park, as well as the wintering Trogon that has been returning to parts of the Sonoita Creek off and on since the late 1990s. But before any of that we had to stop by and pay our respects to the Paton House, one of Arizona's birding landmarks. 

For the last half-century this property has been maintained with its many feeders and bird attractions, providing some excellent, at-ease birding for those staying in town or just passing through. The current caretaker, Larry Morgan, is also a very knowledgable, experienced birder and is often flush with up-to-date information on recent sightings in the area.



It was about midday when we arrived--hardly ideal timing--but we nonetheless had some very nice sightings, including first-of-the-year Lazuli Buntings, along with Pyrrhuloxia, White-winged Dove, and a million billion Broad-billed Hummingbirds. Naturally, the only bird I photographed was a ragged Yellow-rumped Warbler that wasn't even in its nice breeding plumage. Just gotta be different...

We missed the Scott's Orioles by only a couple of minutes, but had some brief, satisfying views of the Paton House speciality Violet-crowned Hummingbird, which has been reliably found here for the past several years. These white-fronted Hummers turn up elsewhere down south, but nowhere is so reliable for them as the Paton place.
Missing the Scott's Orioles still puts me in the peculiar position of having only seen Orchard Oriole in Arizona for the 2013 year. That is rather backwards and shall have to be remedied directly.

After a thirty-minute stake-out at Paton's, we proceeded towards Patagonia State Park, keeping all of our various sensors peeled--eyes, ears, noses, radar, potatoes, etc--and it paid off when we had a promising silhouette fly over the car and a nearby butte off the Highway 82. In hopes that the raptor would circle around, we pulled over to the side of the road, parking on the wrong side with doors hanging open and all concern for safety hanging with them.

Not only did our raptor swing around for another pass, but it was joined by a buddy, and I was treated to the best looks and photos of Grey Hawks I've yet managed. Abiding traffic laws is for chumps (**I'm a chump 99.5% of the time).

Getting to see these unique raptors was a real treat. They're basically hawks in evening suits, and they ooze more class than a Princeton course on viniculture attended entirely by Spanish aristocrats wearing french cologne and smoking Arturo Fuente cigars.

We got pinged by the somewhat steep entry fee for Patagonia, but as soon as we parked near the Sonoita Creek trailhead, east of the visitor center, we had more promising sightings.
By soaring high in the cloudy skies and keeping the sunlight on his back, a Common Blackhawk did its very best to disguise itself as an ubiquitous Turkey Vulture. Silly Common Blackhawk...your wings are too fat, and your tail band is showing!

The first portion of the Sonoita Creek winds through some mesquite bosque, which was particularly pleasant habitat with the recent rain softening and greening things up. In these low, scraggily trees lurked a potential lifer in the annual but ambiguous Black-capped Gnatcatcher. A male Black-capped Gnatcatcher can be told apart from the similar looking and sounding Blue-grays, but that would be just too easy.
After checking out some Gray Flycatchers and other mesquite lovers, we heard a Gnatcatchery veeer, reminiscent but different from that of the Blue-gray. When we finally got some brief sightings of the bird, naturally it was backlit and clouded over, but I think we got enough to make the ID. Both female and male Black-capped Gnatcatchers have a proportionally longer beak and more graduated primaries on the tail, with a touch more black as well. It's hard to pick these plumage subtleties out in the field; luckily we got a few photos to examine in the dark room afterwards.

The Sonoita Creek trail and mesquite bosque open up to cottonwood riparian habitat as you head east of the lake, and here we had some more great birds such as Lucy's and Yellow Warbler,  as well as Cassin's and Bell's Vireo. This certainly was not my nor Tommy's first time down the trail, and there were a half-dozen other birders in the area as well. However, the most veteran explorer of Sonoita Creek was actually our other target for the site. 

While most Elegant Trogons wait until later Spring and summer to really press north into Arizona, a single male Trogon was been wintering along Sonoita Creek since, allegedly, the late 1990s. In a sense he's sort of the Pater Familias of all the other Arizona Trogons that have followed in his footsteps, exploring further north into the Santa Rita Mountains and elsewhere. The documentation of this individual bird is as extensive as it is impressive, and despite seeing Trogons elsewhere and visiting Patagonia many times, I'd never seen this particular bird.
About a half-mile from the lake, down the Sonoita Creek Trail and hanging out in the mid-level scrub...that all changed.

The brilliance of the male Elegant Trogon really can't be overstated. It is one of the most colorful, bodacious, and grandiose birds that occurs in North America. That doesn't make them easy to find either. Especially in the winter/early spring months, when these birds are silent, it comes down to luck and persistence. Scanning scrubby tree after scrubby for that green and red...eventually we spied this fellow sitting perfectly still and perfectly comfortable. It was silent; it was stunning; it was surreal.  

Of course, we were only two of hundreds, even thousands of birders who have ogled this Trogon in the last dozen or more years, but that did nothing to dim the magnificence of the sighting, especially because in the silent wood, we were only twenty feet away from the bird, and we had it to ourselves.

Unsurprisingly, this old fella was used to people. He patiently indulged us as we filled our memory cards with face melting images. He showed all his sides, including the resplendent, shimmering back, and even took a break to catch and eat a caterpillar during the shoot--the action of which I unfortunately missed, but here you can see a bit hanging out of his beak.

It worked out splendidly well. We couldn't have asked for better looks of the bird, and we were close enough that the cloudy weather didn't corrupt the sharpness in the photos. It was just another day in the life for Mr. Trogon, but I daresay we were positively glowing. 

After getting our private session with the HIs Elegance, we then had the pleasure of being able to share the bird with some other birders passing through. 

There was an older couple who began recounting when they saw this very same (presumably) bird ten years before, a group of four younger birders (it feels weird saying that...) who started geeking out about it hard, and some folks visiting from Colorado who were not expecting such a sighting and were overjoyed. To be fair, we were expecting the sighting, and were also pretty ecstatic. Here's Tommy, with the Trogon in the background. The bird stayed so still, we could've taken family portraits with it.

It was only early March, but bird sighting/experience of the 2013 year? Very probably.

Still buzzed from the Trogon, we stumbled around Patagonia for another hour like drunken sailors aboard a drunken ship in an ocean of beer. The Sonoita Creek trail yielded a few more cool birds, and we scanned the mesquite for further sightings of Black-capped Gnatcatcher, since we did not feel satisfied with our earlier sighting at the time. Eventually we decided to swing by the Patagonia visitor's center and then head north to the Santa Ritas. 

Much to my relief, the visitor center was open and had bathrooms. More pertinent to a bird blog, it also had Broad-billed Hummingbirds, along with a few White-throated Sparrows.

Even around 2pm, it seemed like the birds were out and everyone was having a great day. But while the people and critters of Patagonia all enjoyed the cool weather and were generally congenial, one sour bird sat and moped, perhaps contemplating some past insult or plotting a revenge.  

Blarg! This was, without a doubt the grumpiest Green-tailed Towhee I have ever seen. Usually they're such chipper little birds, colorful on the outside and the inside. Not so with this misanthrope; he looked like that surly Internet Cat's best buddy, if crotchety animals can have best buddies.

Before you ask, yes this bird haunted my dreams for weeks afterwards. It was too grumpy to even bother flying away. I was all smiles and taking photos, and it just kept staring and staring, letting the shame and loathing set in until I hung my head and backed away...backed away...backed away.

The Green-tailed Towhee was a buzz-kill (not really), but once again Patagonia delivered with some the best birding I've yet experienced in 2013, and that was my feeling even before examining the Gnatcatcher photo too, so the life bird was just a bonus. I got to visit my best buddy the Trogon again, and see some other magnificent birds along the way. 

It was almost a lethal overdose of birding. Luckily this all occurred during my spring break week, and I didn't have to work again for several days. Upon returning to Phoenix I had severe withdrawal symptoms and was incapacitated for some time. Visit Patagonia but be careful. It will ruin you.