More Birding from the Car(acara)

After spending the first hour or so cruising around the farm roads and chasing Larks, I eventually made my way to Baumgartner Road and the adjacent fields.  This is one of the most reliable areas to see winter-time Caracaras in Arizona, and is also a good spot for combine harrower harvesters, for you tractor watchers out there, and there are also plenty of pecan trees for you nuts. 

 The Caracaras combine forces with the Common Ravens and follow after the combine harvesters, pillaging any disturbed ground for the bugs and rodents as they scatter for safety. It's ruthlessly efficient hunting, everything you'd expect and hope for in a cool predator like the Caracara (yes, Ravens are cool too, but we've known that ever since Oden and Edgar Allen Poe popularized them in 2,000 b.c.)

Despite getting some glimpses of the Caracaras, I could not get close enough for satisfying photos. By this desire, I was forced to chase after the tractors too, looking for the birds that were chasing them, and they chased after the un-harvested crops. I'm sure someone or something was chasing me too, just to keep the chain going. That seems to be the way the universe works. 

Though still distant, one of the Caracaras did perch and pose for a pretty picture with part of Picacho Peak in the background.

While chasing around after the Caracaras and trying to respect the private property/no-trepsassing/we-will-shoot-you-on-sight signs, an old friend caught my eye. The consistently jaw-dropping Vermillion Flycatcher is certainly one of the birds that got me hooked on birding. Now that I was all grown up and chasing after Caracaras and Mountain Plovers, the Vermillion stopped by to remind me of my roots, to remember the classics.

It certainly was a time for some naval-gazing...

He stretched; I stretched; it was good to see this iconic flycatcher again. They're not uncommon in the bottom half of Arizona, but you never know when one will turn up again. He reminded me not to take em' for granted.

After spending some time with the Vermillion, I finally swung around the Baumgartner farms, on the east side of the cattle coral, and got some closer shots of the Crested Caracara. This is a bird that shows it's still possible to be a vulture and be beautiful, and not just beautiful in that wish-washy 'it's-what's-inside-that-counts sorts way, but in the much more important superficial first-impression sense.

Vermillion Flycatcher

More than any other, except maybe for the Rose-Breasted Grosbeak, this is the bird I've been wanting to see again and photograph. Most of my photography has been spent capturing images of birds I had already seen before I got my camera. The camera made re-seeing old birds much more exciting and challenging, and also allowed for me to more generally share my experiences with others.
The last time I saw a Vermillion Flycatcher was in 2009 at the Gilbert Water Ranch in Arizona. I had seen one once before in Harlingen, Texas, and let me tell you every time you see this bird it's just jaw dropping. It's to vivid and sanguine for any birder to ever become jaded, and so seeing it with camera-in-hand was twice the excitement.
That all being said, it's an uncommon bird, and I wasn't fully prepared.

The Vermillion Flycatcher has about the same attention span as a warbler, and tends to alternate between super sunny and super shady perches, so while I'm fiddling with my ISO and f-stop and EV compensation and all other manner of improvised human attempts at capturing nature, the Vermillion Flycatcher has already eaten lunch and moved to the other side of the pond.

It was great to see a female around too. I've never been able to count on a constant Vermillion Flycatcher population, but maybe here nature will take its course and I can return for more...
The pond where these Flycatchers seemed to have set up shop was teeming with other avian activity, but I did get one more pass at the male, and while I can't say I am 100% satisfied with the pictures, I'm ecstatic about the experience!

I don't think the sparrow here has ever felt so dull. 

Even though these birds are very transient, they seem to prefer the liminal space between arid landscape/desert scrub and water, or at least this has held true every time I've seen the Vermillions.