Floating Feathers and Easy Pickins' at Papago

It's that dreaded final month...people in curious clothes are rushing all over at absurd times of day to fill out their lists before it's too late. No no, it's not holiday shopping season (ok, that too). It's December, and all the Year listers are scrambling to boost their numbers before 2013 is expired. Whether it's another surprise chase or finally catching that elusive annual, birders are kicking it into high gear as the weather cools down and the sun hesitates more and more to rise. With so much going on at work and elsewhere, I'm afraid I've thrown in the towel for big chases in 2013 or trying to actively grow a bigger Year list. There have been plenty of great sightings this year and I have no complaints. In fact, just birding the local dives around Phoenix the other evening was all the more rewarding. It was calm; there was no requisite consideration of time or gas money. It's always good to get back to some seasonal basics every once in a while, especially before a new birding year begins...

The Papago Park ponds are now well-stocked with their predictable winterfowl, as are the other bodies of water around Phoenix. The birds are fairly acclimated to people and they're right out in the open. After many chases and photo-attempts on rare and skittish birds in hard-to-reach places, birding around town feels shockingly and sinfully easy. Of course, it doesn't award one many points on the Global Birder Ranking System, not like turning up a gorgeous Fork-tailed Flycatcher in Connecticut does, but these simple stops come with their own reward.

Instead of stopping to smell the roses, stop to wink at the Wigeons (don't bother smelling the Wigeons, it's uncomfortable for all involved). Pause and ponder their nice nose-whistling sounds and their awkwardly wide proportions.

Seriously, look at how wide and stable of a platform this duck is. You could play jenga on its back no problem. It's like the aircraft carrier of waterfowl.



It's been said a thousand times before, but the Ring-necked Duck, a very decent duck, is probably the worst-named bird in North America. Yeah yeah there's a ring on the neck, but it sure isn't a Ring-necked Pheasant. If we're going with the ring motif, maybe mention that it's the only North American duck with a (very prominent) ring on its beak? I mean, Mallards have ring-necks too...
Anyway, it's always a treat when these guys return en masse. I never get tired of photographing them. They're the perfect combination of accommodating but also difficult to properly and angularly expose. I think I nailed this gentleman though, if I do say so myself.

The females are a'ight, but even less noticeably ring-necked (still ring-billed though, er hem...).

And of course the backbone of every avian painter, except for Painted Redstarts, is the Canvasback. Last year there was a cooperative male at Papago. At first he was very skittish, but after a few weeks at the ponds he became more accustomed to the foot-traffic and I was able to get satisfactory shots. I'm hoping he returns this year to find a pretty, demure lady a-waiting for him.

Green Herons are one of those very cool, common birds that I never stop to appreciate anymore unless I'm otherwise making myself stop and appreciate such stuff--like wintering ducks. As soon as I see one hunting again, up close and without also wondering how much time I have to get to the next site, I'm reminded, "Wow, what a gorgeous bird. Where in the world do they put that neck!?"

Even with the purdy ducks now arriving, the Green Heron will likely stay the most colorful overall bird at the Papago Ponds, or if not then at least the coolest. 

And sometimes the most goofy.

I'll be getting back out into the desert this weekend after some Sagebrush and Bell's Sparrows, as well as any Thrashers that have arrived. Hoo knows, maybe even a Snowy Owl will turn up (ok, probably substantially farther north). 

Autumn Staples

Visit any Phoenix pond between October and May, and you're likely to see 3 kinds of waterfowl. Mallards are year-round residents and are always well-represented. American Coots are also found throughout the year, but their numbers swell quite noticeably in the fall and winter months. In my experiences, the third most common waterfowl, and certainly the most numerous migrant, is the Ring-Necked Duck. I seldom take Mallard pictures anymore, but the Coots and Ring-Necks provide some difficult photographic challenges, and I always find them to be interesting subjects.

With the stark contrast between the dark head and yellow eye, and also between the black and white on the bill, the Ring-Necked Duck provides a significant challenge in getting the proper exposure. Too much light and you lose the detail in the eye and in the white stripes. Too little light and you lose the detail on the head, neck, and tip of the bill. With the proper angles, lighting, and exposure compensation, you can capture all of the facial contrasts, as well as the subtle purple iridescence of the head, and reveal what a visually complicated bird the Ring-Necked Duck really is.

Waterfowl often provide excellent photographic opportunities for a number of reasons. They tend to be larger, slow moving (except in flight), and not especially skittish. The physical aspects of their surroundings also provide for a fun photographic environment. Capturing the bird's reflection always adds another dimension to the image, and it's also pretty cool to capture the water coming off the bird, or congealing on its back.

This angle here afforded me a rare opportunity to actually see part of that infamous neck ring. I've often thought that Ring-Billed Duck would be the more appropriate label, and maybe someday I'll get enough signatures for a congressional overturn of the official name. When visible, the ring is a nice sort of cherry wood brown, providing a slight interim color between the black breast and dark purple on the head.

If you take enough pictures of a bird, eventually it'll have to blink! Generally they're much better about not blinking in pictures (especially compared to people!), and in fact it's pretty cool when you can catch them in the act. Like many waterbirds, the Ring-Necked Duck has a transparent eyelid. I assume this lets them see underwater, to an extent, without overly exposing their eyes to the murk.

By happy coincidence, this nearby Coot was in a blinking mood as well. I like how the closed eye, along with the leaning posture and bill slightly ajar, make this Coot look like its swimming in ecstasy.

Coot beaks present a similar problem to the Ring-Necked Ducks'. They're an alabaster white, with a bit of black. The Coot's slate-black body demands plenty of light to catch the details, but then, as you can see here, the beak often gets whitewashed.

It's a piercing red eye. When combined with the red shield on the forehead, it gives these birds a somewhat dinosauric look. In my opinion, their 'chirbb' call is also somewhat reptilian, as are their feet. Despite these interesting features, Coots are pretty mild birds. It's always fun and calming to observe them dinking around the city ponds.

They're not exotic, but these reliable pond squatters are always around to provide an easy and entertaining birding outlet for the urban birder.

Ring-Necked Duck

This is my favorite Ring-Necked Duck, for a number of reasons. It's the first and only specimen I've seen since I got my camera, and I've been able to see this specific bird now on three separate occasions.
When I first saw this Duck, which I shall henceforth name and call Gary, he was oddly hanging out at the drainage pond at the barren Grenada Park in the middle of the summer in Phoenix. He was the only non-mallard on the pond, and I must confess I judged him to be a Lesser Scaup at the time.
Here is the picture taken in early August (All photos can be enlarged by clicking on them):

I judged Gary to be an immature Scaup because they and Ring-Necks are about the same size, have the same yellow eye, a similarly curvy bill, and the lightly-streaked gray on their flanks, as well as the dark brown breast. I was forgetting the dark on the back however, which Scaups do not have (their wings, sides, and backs are all the same sort of soft gray). Since Scaups are more common than Ring-Necks, I hedged my bet in that direction.
I appreciated Gary's bravery at the time, as I think temperatures hit 111 degrees that day and be he Scaup or Ring-Neck, he was way, way farther south than either species' normal summer range.
A week later I saw Gary again at Grenada Park. Again he was the only non-Mallard and non-Coot on the pond, and he looked much the same.
On October 2nd I returned to Grenada Park hoping to see some migratory ducks. While I was disappointed in that pursuit, I had a pleasant and surprising reunion with Gary.

It's Gary!

Here I had been thinking Gary was a Lesser Scaup, when in fact he was a mighty Ring-Necked Duck all along! He was/is still one of a kind at Grenada Park, and it was very cool to reunite with perhaps the bravest and toughest Ring-Necked Duck of them all.

Here Gary looks for deliverance from the company of these Mallards he's been forced to endure all Summer. 

Gary still doesn't have his fully mature plumage. The Ring-Necked Duck, like the Lesser Scaup, has an iridescent purple covering its head and neck, and a strong white vertical bar on the shoulder. However, the two white rings on the bill, one at the base and one before the black tip, are diagnostic. It's also interesting to note how low the tail hangs. It is horizontal with the duck's body and often rests atop the water. Many other ducks keep their tails more erect.

This is the blank, vacant stare of a duck who has had its brain scorched and friend for 3 months, in summer heat it was never meant to endure, in a pond that is maybe 50 by 100 feet, with only Mallards and a few obnoxious geese for company.

Here again, is the dark back that clearly disqualifies Gary from being a Lesser Scaup. 

As Gary recognizes me, his long lost and only true friend, he sheds a tear of joy.

His attention was quickly stolen away by a wobbly lady toting Wonder Bread, but I know Gary was glad he could show me that, while he was maybe confused about his summer migrating, his identity as a Ring-Necked Duck is firmly established.

Gary, King of Grenada Park, I shall return someday soon to see your purple crown. Hopefully you will find a queen, ring her neck with pearls, and have lots of Ring-Necked chicks.




Here are some more recent photos taken in November: