Nullifying a Nocturnal Near-Nemesis

That's it below; that is my lifer Western Screech-Owl from ages past. I've run into so many people over the years that have seen this bird when out walking their dogs at night, perched in a citrus tree, a yard-bound cactus, or even on a street sign. Surely I too will have such an opportunity, I thought. As was often the case through grade school, high school, college, and various relationships...I thought wrong.

I'd hear WESOs plenty often, but never did I have that golden opportunity that seemed to present itself unwittingly to non-birders and birders alike. I'd seen it once, but never again. WESo was turning into a kinda Mobius Dick. 

This past week I met up with some prodigious bird-bloggers along the Salt River for some seasonal owling. We heard plenty of WESOs, had looks at Elf and Great-horned, and a Common Poorwill almost took my head off flying by. Eventually I had to get home and wouldn't ya know, they soon after found an absurdly accommodating WESO. Crushing occurred, selfies were posed, and as was often the case through grade school, high school, college, and various relationships...I was not a part of the party. 

So I returned several days later, and this time I convinced more people to come with me, including people that aren't normally into the birds. Pretty clever eh? With a full-moon lending its light, we managed to hear but not see Elf and Great-horned Owls, likewise with the Poorwill, but this time we heard, and then got killer looks at, Western friggin' Screech-Owl. 

It took some trudging through thick mesquite and abrasive, sock-destroying fox-tail grass, but eventually we found some nice spots and waited (instead of chasing after those calling owls, the mistake I often impatiently make). They came in to investigate our calls. There were intense stare-offs.

Frodo didn't feel so good when he finally ditched the Ring of Power (to be fair, he did lose a finger in the exchange) nor did Luke Skywalker when he sunk his proton torpedos down the Death Star's scandalously exposed exhaust shaft. Captain Ahab didn't feel so good when he finally found his oblivion, nor  Hercules when he completed his 12th labor. Catharsis, you are mine.

Mon-late Monsoons

We've had some fun weather these past couple of weeks in Phoenix, with the August heat punctuated by intermittent monsoon aftershocks. It's like living in Dallas again-- 100°F at 7 am and then thunderclouds by noon. Silly troposphere just can't make up it's mind. Funky weather makes for funky birding as the daylight alternates by the hour and throws off feeding times.

Whatever mayhem the funky weathers visits on the birds is magnified for reptiles like this Twin-spotted Spiny Lizard, perhaps the only critters in Phoenix this time of year who really appreciate full sunlight.

The European Starlings at the DBG like to tune their voices in the overcast evening light. Their beautiful plumage almost makes up for everything that these birds have going against their popularity. Without any larger context, this bird is an emerald and ebony gem. The luster starts to fade when one considers how common they are, that they're introduced, and that they displace other species. Oddly enough, European Starling populations are actually decreasing in Europe--isn't that a weird thought.

The funky weather really got to this Inca Dove. It just kinda froze in the middle of a gravel path and stood perfectly still, perhaps waiting for the sun to reemerge. From its gaunt physique, I'd say this is likely a first year bird, and one who does not yet have the necessary life experience to know what to do when the sun is gone by 4pm.

Other birds at the DBG have problem adjusting at all. This Great Horned Owl was plunked on up in a mesquite tree. From his concealed position, he kept tabs on all the little bunnies hopping around below him and contemplated violent things.

Just to make sure this was, in fact, a Great Horned Owl, and not some other bird in disguise, I checked off some tell-tale characteristics.

Large Eyes and ability to turn head 180°-- check 

Large, intimidating, zygodactyl talons -- check

Gruff personality and sense that this awkward biped is an affront to an owl's regal existence? -- check

While the tiger owl waited up high, this debonair Cactus Wren, strutted around down low. The largest and loudest of the North American Wrens, these towering troglodytes act like they own the place. Seeing as they are the state bird, they may have a case. I like the pose here, and feel like this Wren should have a flag waving behind him in the background.

I'm sure that by the time this post is up, the clouds will be gone. As we're still in monsoon season, they'll probably be back this evening. Here's hoping.

Borrow Your Burrow?

Burrowing Owls are probably one the top five cutest birds of all time. They're small, they live in prairie dogs burrows (and other excavations), they've got owl proportions, and they've got attitude. Somehow I managed to live in Arizona for 18 years without seeing them in the wild, though to be fair I've only been seriously birding for the last couple. I finally got proactive and went out to the Rio Salado preserve in south central Phoenix. There were reported owl sites near an old gravel pit, and the rumors did not disappoint.

A couple of these bold sentinels stood guard above their burrows and watched the setting sun. There is a railed walkway that guides the spectator parallel with the dirt ridge where the owls make their homes, keeping about thirty feet distance between the owl ridge and any onlookers. It was too bad that the evening sun was somewhat behind the birds. But on the other hand, I like this negative lighting. Maybe this is stretching it a bit to say, but there seems to be something very western about that bright setting sun and the silhouettes its leaves, and there's something western about the Burrowing Owls. After all, the sun sets in the west...

There are also communities of Burrowing Owls around the Scottsdale Community College, so I went there in the hopes of getting some closer, albeit less scenic shots. Driving around the campus, I wasn't exactly sure where the owls were supposed to be, but then I had to slam on the breaks! There, standing next to a little drainage hole in the curb of the parking lot sidewalk, was Mr. Owl.

Well, you can't always pick your spot. I was thrilled to see the bird so close, but his position and the lighting did necessitate that I get on the school-side of the parking lot, which meant that the owl's lower half was mostly hidden from the camera. 

As you can see from the red stripe, this Burrowing Owl had made his home, quite illegally, in a No Parking Zone! He seemed quite unconcerned, and spent most of his time looking skywards, though I did not see any hawks or other birds myself.

Here's a quick look at the nictitating membrane, as well as his blurry nostrils.

I really couldn't figure out what he was staring out. Now I think maybe he was just prognosticating, you know, looking into the future? Given this expression, he must have seen something quite shocking. I like how the pupil in the left eye is smaller than the right. Behold, the symbol of WISDOM!

I had a blast with the Burrowing Owls this week. They're beautiful in their whites and browns, and they will give you more expressions in fifteen seconds than any other bird, and probably more than most people.

What're you lookin' at, punk!?

I discovered a family of 4 Burrowing Owls near some farmland just north of the Tres Rios site in west Phoenix on 05/17/2012. The first Owl I spotted was actually perched atop telephone wire (the highest I've ever seen a Burrowing Owl perch). The next three were all sitting atop little marker posts on the edge of the field, watching the sun go down to bring up the night. 

The 2011 Butler Bird of the Year

Well it took about a month and a half to decide, but the jury has finally reached a verdict on the best Butler Bird of the Year (also know as the B-BOY award, only slightly less famous than the Oscars). With close competition from Phainopeplas, a Townsends Warbler, and an inner city Lewis's Woodpecker, the award goes to...the Elf Owl!

This was certainly the most surprising sighting of the year, both because of the relatively uncommon and inconspicuous nature of the bird. I'm never really expecting to see Owls, which maybe explains why this and the Great Horned are the only two I've ever seen in the wild.

These tiny birds were hanging out at the Desert Botanical Gardens in September, and provided one of the best all-round birding experiences of my 2011 birding year. I'm definitely hoping to get some more owls this year, but I don't know if any of them will match this super fun sighting. Here's hoping!

See the full Elf Owl adventure recorded here

Elf Owl

At 5 and 1/2 inches, the Elf owl is the shortest owl in North America. It's range is similarly small; this uncommon owl is seen only in Arizona, New Mexico, and southwest Texas. They had recently been reported at the Desert Botanical Gardens, and were apparently in residence for a couple of days before Pops and I found them with the help of one of the Gardens' photographers. The first trio were pretty far back in the brush, and the two parents seemed to be dozing while their fluffy chick sat and contemplated little things.
You can see he still has lighter, downy feather while the adults in the background are a much darker shade. The sunlight was pouring into their little nook, but they seemed pretty content and somewhat out of reach.

This was already a great experience, with the Elf Owl being a new addition for both of our life lists. Before departing, Pops and I decided to retry the wildflower garden in hopes of seeing a rumored Yellow Breasted Chat that was supposed to be hanging around. While surveying a large mesquite tree, we saw what seemed to be a large-headed sparrow standing oddly upright in the tree. It really is hard to take in how small these owls are. Picture the large, Great-Horned Owls we've all seen, only without the ears. The same sort of strong claws, same sharp beak and large eyes, except everything is proportionately shrunken down so it could fit in the palm of your hand. It was simply amazing to see something so small and simultaneously realize that it was an owl.
This pair of adults was also dozing in the early morning light, and provided a much better photo opportunity than the earlier family. To date, this is probably one of the rarest and, by happy coincidence, better documented birds I've seen. They're pretty uncommon, and incredibly difficult to see. Our luck was in full force today as we happened upon them without even trying. Great Day!
Click on the images for a larger view.

I love the bristly feet here. This branch is maybe the width of a pencil, to help put their size onto a scale.  

The white eyebrows are pretty impressive. They match the stoic demeanor well.

There they are. Those big eyes looking past me and back into yesterday.

All of these blurry tentacles are criss-crossing mesquite twigs and branches. These owls were still a good 12 feet back in the canopy, and there was not a clear opening for a picture, but such circumstances come with the bird.