Caught in the Infinite Space Between

No, there are no ABA 1st Red Warbler photos or sagas here--not yet anyway. Although an amazing find and a beautiful bird no matter what, recent photos and analysis of this bird, showing it likely to be the white-cheeked subspecies and to have overly worn tail feathers are raising increasingly problematic provenance questions. Even more problematically, the bird has not been re-found since Day 1. Perhaps it returned home.

This past weekend, attempting to make good on resolutions not to be a total wash-out birder and blogger, I met up with a friend at Tres Rios, hoping to post some big numbers for the day. But birding for sake of vanity and bravado seldom ends well.

It has been unusually warm in Phoenix the last week or two, hitting the upper 90s, and this combined with the timing to make for a pretty lackluster showing. Most waterfowl had departed, but migrants and breeders were sparsely present. Cliff Swallows were typically industrious, foraging and homemaking before sun up.

Upon closer examination I discovered the supposed Swallows were actually flocks of miniature Bald Eagles. Or maybe not; the Eagle might've come later. I don't know. It was a slow morning.

The resident Burrowing Owls at Tres Rios are always a highlight, though Red-Winged Blackbirds were by far the most numerous and cacophonous bird of the day. There were good numbers of superiors Yellow-headed Blackbirds around as well, but they are much more secretive at this location, and the advanced warmth also meant the riparian channels were already well overgrown and nigh-invisible from cattails. 

It was interesting to bird this site again after probably two years. I think of these familiar haunts as being fixed and reliable--and on a macro scale they are--but a channel like Tres Rios is also a dynamic environment. There had clearly been some large floods and rapid growth since my last visit, and some of the nooks, paths, and trails I used to stake out were almost unrecognizable.
Heraclitus observed change as a constant, quipping, "A Man never steps into the same river twice." One can extend this observation as well to, "A Man never squats and squints at birds in the same spot twice." Black-crowned Night Herons prove ever-adaptable.




eBird flagged a late Sage Thrasher, which I didn't bother to record at the time given the poor photo-op it offered, but perhaps the most interesting find, one even non-birders can appreciate, was a a friendly George Washington.

Feeling unsatisfied with the lack of crushing, I slunk out again Sunday morning to some local spots. The Tres Rios experience was too late for winter birds and too early for spring/summer birds. The DBG, like 10 minutes away from home, is a tidy little migrant rap in its own right, and always offers close views of something. In this case, it was close views of many, many nature photographers, birds, bugs, flowers and otherwise. The place was overrun by Geri Photog, though I managed to sneak up on some water chickens all the same.

At the DBG, Cactus Wren--probably North America's best Wren--is almost a trash bird. I have seen them steal from purses, be baited into eating out of people's hands, etc. It's rather undignified for a State signatory. Great great bird though.

LEGOS and Verdin showed typically well. Of course, LEGOs show well just about anywhere in their range, especially if thistle is involved. Verdin are pretty accepting of people as well, though curiously I have never seen them around feeder stations. Do they not have a diversified diet that includes seeds and such? I always thought of them as opportunistic feeders and have seen them noshing on mesquite blooms and buds, but why never seeds at feeders? Are Verdins actually purist snobs?

The day had its pleasant surprises too, not on a monumental scale so much as the, "Huh, well I guess it was worth it to get out this morning" scale (it always is, by the way). Tres Rios is always a good time, but the disappointment was that we picked up almost no migrants or breeders during the Saturday foray. 

It was thus unexpected that the little self-contained, high-traffic DBG held several FOY migrants.

BTYW actually breed prodigiously in the higher elevations of Maricopa, but Orange County Warbler and Nashville--a photo first for the site, woot woot--consider this fly-over country, or fly-through at least. But migration and mesquite are great equalizers.
We've all been there, a long road trip when, scratchy of eye, tired of limb, and grumbly of stomach. Scruples fall away. Golden Corral, or a little roadside diner with 'eats' and gift shop attached gives welcome relief to the weary. We eat, gratefully. We buy a trinket, perhaps. And we go on our way.

In addition to warblers there were migrant empids being all shady and ambiguous. Given my severely atrophied birding skills, I probably should not even try, but this seems like a Dusky Flycatcher to me--though the bill is on the smaller side the primary projection doesn't seem to measure up to Hammond's standards.

It's a case of the candle that burned twice, maybe ten times as bright, with the one-day wonder Red Warbler in Pima County. In many ways though things are just heating up; the birding will only get better and better the next several weeks, unless you're only into ducks.. Stay hungry.

Lovely Birds Low to the Ground

I saw my first ever Lark Sparrow Wednesday evening outside of work. It was hoping against hope, but there he was the very next morning, out feeding in the frost not two feet away from where I first saw him the day before. Of course,  I could hardly observe him with all of the morning traffic, all of the kids and parents trudging along to and from the school, and the steady stream of cars that would've slowly driven right by me.

With a bit of extended good fortune though the Sparrow returned to his feeding grounds in the afternoon. I left the classroom a bit early (still after school was over) to check it out, and once again the Lark Sparrow was faithfully in place. The sun was still high in the sky, and Larry Butler Sr. also came by to see the bird. It was now the first and only Lark Sparrow for both of us, and it gave us some great looks! It flew back and forth between several spots, and even with the interruptions and curious waves and honks from departing students and colleagues, he was extremely tolerant...

even when looking into the sun. It's such a beautiful bird! I just can't stop gushing about the facial mask; it's like nothing I'd seen before. Just looking at the profile here, there are four black stripes, four white stripes, two chestnut patches, and caramel on the supercilium all converging towards the sturdy beak. When you throw in the white throat and breast spot, this bird has a lot going on from the chest up.

There's an extra fluff of white on the lores, and even a bit of black accenting the brown stripes on top of the head.  Tall and proud, he is a lord of the Sparrows.

Eventually the Lark Sparrow flew into an ally on the other side of the street. While I stationed myself along the wall, Pops entered into the ally to try and relocate the Lark Sparrow. The alley was occupied by some noisy White-Crowned Sparrows, and for a little while we lost track of our quarry amidst their diversions. Like any ornery son and birder, I decided to then photograph Mr. Butler in birding mode.  

Urban birds always hang out in the most lovely places.

Eventually the Lark Sparrow resurfaced and resumed his evening meal. With the traffic diminished now, he was very comfortable, and let me crawl to within 5 or 6 feet of him without flinching.

Most of the grass on the school field has been replaced with that silly winter lawn stuff, but the exterior strip of grass outside the fence is still the old bermuda, and he seemed to be finding plenty of seed.

I've got to say, if I had seen this bird behaving so tamely and not had my camera, it would have been pretty heartbreaking--that's just part of the risk a birder runs when they start involving a camera in their birding activities. However, with the benefit of pictures really allowing me to save and review the experience, this sighting was all the more special. There are so many more things to notice and enjoy with a still shot that I can't appreciate through the binoculars. There are those occasional bitter sweet experiences where blurry pictures leave a bit of a dark cloud hanging over an otherwise great sighting, but all in all photography has made me a much better, more acute, and more appreciative birder.

Although the Lark Sparrow provided plenty of photographic merriment, he was not the only pretty bird on the block. There was a charming Say's Phoebe perched in a nearby olive tree, and Pops pointed out a Lesser Goldfinch also feeding on the ground. This little birding patch must have been the local single's bar for the bird neighborhood.

We'd never seen a goldfinch feed on the ground like this. He just plopped down on top of a dandelion blossom and started digging in like a pie-eating contest. It was pretty cute.

I don't know if he was making romantic wishes or just playing with his food, but either way he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

I really liked how he was just melting into the grass. He looked like a a little hacky-sac or perhaps a wimple of dirty butter?

Lesser Goldfinch

The Lesser, or Western Goldfinch has two subspecies, black-backed and green-backed, which have an overlapping range in the Rocky Mountains and even into California, where they may run into the Lawrence's Goldfinch, their uncommon cousin.

These little birds always seem to be peppy. They share at the feeders, which means they're often pushed out of the way by house finches and sparrows, but their love of thistle seeds is second to none (except probably to the American Goldfinch).

They have a large population at the Desert Botanical Gardens in AZ, where their thistle diet has been effectively substituted for the wild sunflowers. They didn't seem to mind at all.

My Arizona family had never seen one at the house, despite maintaining several bird feeders year-round. Once they displayed thistle seed, they had over  a half-dozen goldfinches flitting about within 48 hours.