Re-Runs and Hidden Gems

It's time for another exciting installment of everyone's favorite Buckeye/West Phoenix show, Terrible Photos of Terrific Birds! As is often the case, this episode takes place in the Trasher Spot, 50 miles west of Phoenix. I toured the sagely site a visiting Puerto Rican birder who was looking for a little Sonoran fix and some of Buckeye's famous chalky-white desert ghosts, the Le Conte's Thrasher (which is french for The Butt-Pain Thrasher). 

This is one of my favorite sites in central Arizona, in fact the whole state, for a couple of reasons. In the first place, this plain of low-lying desert sage and scrub is easily navigable. There are no tall trees with neck-pain, bird-concealing inducing canopies. Furthermore, it can produce up to 5 different Thrasher species (one of the best genera of birds), depending on time of year, and both species of the recently split Sage Sparrow. Best of all, this site hosts Le Conte's Thrashers, which can be very difficult to track down as they tend to have very localized populations within their uninviting desert ranges, and this is one of very few birds to which southeastern Arizona cannot also lay claim. That's right, there is a good bird in the central part of the state that CAN'T also be found in the Santa Rita or Chiricahua Mountains!

Unfortunately that good bird is a real pain for photography despite being a personal favorite. The Sage Sparrows have long gone and the Sage Thrashers have already moved through, but the Thrasher Spot was still very productive with its Big 3. We had 6 Le Conte's, in two groups of three, a pair of Crissal Thrashers, and 5 Bendire's all in about an hour and a half, and this was without vocalizations (they've all since shut up after this most early of springs). Some day, I will make a camouflage blind, go out into this desert, and mercilessly crush the Le Conte's Thrasher. In the mean time, I have to make do with such injustices, which I post both to my own degradation and to blearily illustrate my point:

It wasn't just the Le Conte's today. The cost of seeing all the birds is often paid in some other way. Here's a nicely posing Bendire's, obscured by proximal creosote branches. It was going to be one of those mornings. 

Here's a heavily cropped Crissal Thasher, which I must shamefully admit is my best photo of the species. I'm serious about that blind. I'm going to make it this summer. It will be spacious, have nice panoramic views, have room for snacks, and be highly mobile, maybe situated one 4 of those rumba robots that drive around and vaccuum floors.
**If anyone has any spare rumbas they'd like to donate, please email me privately.

After a productive hour and a half at the Thrasher spot, which also turned up some lifer Brewer's Sparrow for my birding pal, we headed east through the Palo Verde agr. land for the daily dose of Burrowing Owls. If one ever ventures into the west Phoenix farmosphere and returns without roadside Burrowing Owl photos, one has not lived up to one's potential. This species is perhaps the greatest ambassador between birds and people, less filthy than Gulls or Pigeons and much wiser than Finches. This fellow was hanging out near a drainage ditch by someone's driveway, and another was perched on the roof.

Inevitably, our west-Phoenix tour ended at Tres Rios, the absurdly birdy wetlands that combine three riparian channels with desert chaparral and small sections of grassland. At the right time of year, skilled and dedicated birders can pull 100+ species here in several hours.
The only remaining waterfowl when we went were Ruddy Ducks and Mallards, and even with few attenuating raptors we still finished in about 2.5 hours with 81 species, and that was starting around 8:30am. That tally up is not a boast of birding ability so much as the capacity of this site.

It was late enough in the morning that the Osprey were already finishing up breakfast and contemplating lunch.

However, the key to Tres Rios' diversity--it's sprawling, well-watered, and wild habitat--also makes it a pitfall of sorts for photographers going after some really close-up, crushing shots. The birds here typically, though not always, perch high and flush easily. It's quite the catch-22, a catch-23, if you will.

I do not bring this up to solicit sympathy nor profess false modesty, but merely as a preface for another realization I had about my peculiarly adjusted behavior at this, or any other oft-frequented site. 

There are many nifty birds I see every time at Tres Rios. 

They're not really crushable either, but I could consistently take decent, blog-complimentary images of American White Pelicans, Egrets and Herons, two species of Blackbird, etc. But because I see these birds constantly, I don't bother. Instead, I take mediocre images of the Gila Woodpecker above, or the Spotted Sandpiper below, because these birds don't present themselves as frequently. In the moment, I have a greater attraction to the opportunity presented by these birds because that opportunity comes around less often. This also means I lower standards sometimes. If the picture below were of a Least or Western Sandpiper it would've been chucked immediately, but Spotties are kinda hard to crush (in fact, upon further rumination, I don't recall seeing them crushed much ever at all on the blogosphere). It's not the first time I've pictured the species, but this relatively crumby sighting was more significant than the 1,000 Blackbirds (take it, Wallace Stevens) who were much more aesthetically pleasing subjects. Few people would argue this in-range, in-season Spotted Sandpiper is cooler than flying-in-formation Pelicans, but after enough Pelican sightings, that's how it registers. 

Which would be the better subject? Really I should just shoot both, shoot everything I can, shoot until the barrel overheats and melts shut, mwuahahaha! 

Nah, that obnoxious soliloquy was just a personal chastisement for being snooty at the expense of my photography. Anyway, one Tres Rios sighting of particular note was this Lesser Nighthawk, parallel-perching in a dead cotton-willow and generally winning at hide-and-seek. Finding nightjars in the day time has to be the highlight of almost any trip, even if these would be a dime-a-dozen after 7pm.

We had several other FOY birds at Tres Rios and finished the half day with 92 species. It was a pretty solid Phoenix birding run, a reminder of the excellent birding to be had closer to home before I head southeast next weekend to be spoiled once again, and maybe forever.

Better Go to Papago

I'm still on a high from this morning's birding. Waking up at 6 am, this morning did not feel any more glorious than Saturdays past, and with my intended destinations being the Desert Botanical Gardens and Papago Ponds--two areas I had birded very often and with few surprises--there was little reason to expect anything but the usual. I'd been on some great birding trips recently, but my photography is always lacking when I visit knew areas. The plan today was to focus on some local spots and get some better shots of common Phoenix birds. The temperature had dropped a little bit, winterfowl were starting to arrive, and there's always the off-chance for a vagrant.

American Coots are not rare vagrants, and in fact descend on Phoenix by the thousand each autumn.

Since the DBG does not open until 8am, I pre-gamed at the Papago Ponds. The Papago Park has some nice rock formations, but the three little ponds are not very scenic. Even so, they are one of my favorite places to view waterfowl in the Phoenix area as they're fairly narrow and allow for closer looks without spooking the birds. This was my first trip out in several months, and I was immediately greeted by some Northern Pintails, Coots, and three Ring-necked Ducks. The Ring-necked Ducks were already in their breeding plumage but the Pintails were still being all solar-eclipse.

Floating out with the Ring-necks was a different, curiously shaped specimen. It had a spiky, erect tail, and since its head was tucked away I wondered if it might be some weird Ruddy Duck. As the bird turned around though and revealed its slender beak, revealed itself to be some sort of Merganser.

This was exciting! I'd never seen a Merganser in Phoenix before, although it's not a super uncommon sighting I'm sure. I knew that Common Mergansers turn up in the fall and winter--I'd just never seen them--and Red-breasted sometimes migrate through. But this bird was smaller than those other possibilities. At maybe eighteen inches, with a dark grey and yellow beak (as oppose to the pinkish-orange Common Merganser) and white showing on the primaries...this was a female Hooded Merganser. Hey, it's not a jaw-dropper, but it's uncommon enough that I knew eBird would flag it, and don't that sort of thing just make a birder feel like a million bucks?

After observing the Merganser for some time, watching her dive, bathe, and preen like some sort of creepy person, I headed down the canal to the DBG. I still consider the Botanical Gardens to be one of the best desert birding areas in Phoenix, but today they were a total bust. I saw eight species inside the grounds. Eight! Not a single Lesser Goldfinch, Cactus Wren, or even a Mourning Dove!!! It was very weird. There were lots of people there already, in part due to the late opening time and there seemed to be some sort of upcoming feature event. Whatever the reasons, the birds were nowhere to be found. Despite the DBG being largely deserted, I did see a Yellow-breasted Chat in the Wildflower Garden, which was a very pleasant surprise, especially given the otherwise low turn out.

The birding was much better at Papago so I decided to walk the desert trail out of the DBG and back to the ponds, thinking maybe I'd find a Rock Wren or Roadrunner along the way. About a quarter mile in I flushed a long-winged gray bird--clearly some sort of goatsucker. Without too much hope, I watched it fly away, expecting it to disappear into the distant hills. To my surprise, it only flew a short distance before landing in a creosote bush.

I had not seen distinct white flashes when the bird flew, and it seemed a bit small to be Lesser Nighthawk. However, the bird clearly had a long tail, too long for Common Poorwill. Regardless of the final ID, I was very giddy. I'd been wanting one of these sightings all summer, to be able to finally study a stationary goatsucker in the daylight.

I'd always loved watching these birds hunt in the twilight hours, appreciating their physique and dexterity even before I was an obsessive birder. But only with better light could I finally see the incredible feather detail and all the subtle coloration. Totally stunning.

Eventually the Nighthawk noticed that I'd noticed, and it took off. I felt bad to flush the bird a second time, but at least no one else would be passing through for a while, so it'd get some peace and quiet for the rest of the day.

Back at Papago the Merganser was still cruising around (in fact, the earlier photos were taken on this second visit). The Finches, Towhees, and Thrashers that should've been partying at the DBG were all crowding around the ponds too, while skulking Green Herons stood watch in the trees.

A few dozen White-throated Swifts flew overhead and spent a few minutes snatching invisible bugs out of the invisible air. It was neat to see them in action so (relatively) close and I was able to snap a few distant shots of these fast flyers.

I left Papago feeling totally rejuvenated. It had been a few weekends since I had a really good bout of birding and photogrpahy, and the aftershock of this morning will keep me going for a while. Picking up Hooded Merganser, Lesser Nighthawk, and White-throated Swift puts me at 253 species identifiably photographed, passing the 250 goal I set for this year. Good birding!