Bluffing Bandits and Foggy-headed Birding

Friday and Saturday were, once again, the setting for some pretty impressive deluges throughout the valley. This made Sunday, Superbowl Sunday, the only viable birding day this weekend. Bearing that in mind, and the fact that Glendale, AZ, was hosting the party, I decided to forego the temptation of chasing a Greater Pewee in west Phoenix. Greater Pewee is a great bird in Maricopa, especially in winter, especially in the lowlands where it was found. But between the weather and the traffic, I decided to chase on the east side of town and hitched my birding raft onto the Salt River. 

The Coon Bluff site is one of my favorites in Maricopa, combining interesting geology with some flowing water and a very healthy mesquite bosque. This habitat doesn't yield that many crazy rarities, but what birds it does have it has in abundance; they tend to be reliable, readily visible, and they tend to be awesome. Driving down to the river there was heavy fog settled in from the previous days' precipitation, and for the first hour or so my camera lens collected moisture enough to make it inoperable. As visibility improved, it revealed an eerie, primordial hollow that smelled wonderful. 

Coon Bluff is unofficially the Phainopepla capital of Arizona. They are, by far, the most numerous, vocal, and conspicuous bird around the bosque. For the most part, these birds are not overly friendly to photography, but with so many of them about the odds eventually pay off. The male below was perched eye level on the side of the road, of course before the fog was letting through much light. I have no good examples this time, but if you want to crush silky flycatchers, come to this place.

For sure, the Phainopeplas are a very impressive, abstract kind of cool, kinda like people that are very good at cooking oriental food or are very good at dancing to a specific kind of music. Another common aerial acrobat at Coon Bluff, the Vermilion Flycatcher, is a different kinda cool, like a trans-genre red corvette everyone acknowledges this bird is cool, kinda cool.



Then there is the Gray Flycatcher, the least eye-catching of these three. It tends to perch lower in the canopy and, in typical empid fashion, is pretty drab. But the simple fact that despite these proclivities they're willing to mix it up with their more aggressive and colorful neighbors is a testament to their fortitude. Since they make one work a little harder for the visual than the other two species, these tail-bobbing fiends have more mystique as well. I appreciate that they are willing to winter in the area. Waiting until spring for any empids would be nigh unbearable.

Do you ever go up to your perch in the morning for a nice preen and get the feeling, well, that someone is watching you? Someone robed in black, with red devil eyes and maniacal hair? This is but a day in the terrifying life of a Ladder-backed Woodpecker, and many other birds who must live near Phainopeplas. After all, those silky flycatchers nest in mistletoe; they do not respect personal space or boundaries.

Ladder-backed Woodpeckers do not have an expansive range, continentally speaking, and in some areas they're certainly more common than others (Coon Bluff being a common area), but in my experiences they are an extremely adaptable, hardy woodpecker with a very diversified lifestyle portfolio. I have seen them in mesquite bosque, cottonwood riparian, montane oak and pine, sagebrush, and even urban habitats. I suppose it's easy to move upward in the world when one comes equipped with one's own ladder.

I am mostly including this photo because I had not previously registered Brown Creeper at Coon Bluff. While we're at it though, check out the massive hallux on that guy.

Kingfisher activity is very good along the Salt River, which is also reliable for Mergansers and many species of duck nearer the Granite Reef dam. There was a Bald Eagle perched on the far shore, but these NECOs did not seem intimidated.

Coon Bluff has a few well known attractions. I was heading there to look for a Harris's Sparrow in the overgrown clearings amidst the bosque. This bird was discovered a week or so ago in a mixed flock. They're almost annual and this would only be a year bird, but I had no photos to date, plus it's a sweet sparrow.
This is not the attraction for everyone. Most hikers and naturalists in the area come for the semi-famous Coon Bluff "wild" horses (there's a heated, ongoing 'feral' vs' 'wild' debate). They like to graze in the area and, uh, hang out in the shade.

People in the area will often stop and ask if one has seen the horses--which are relatively easy compared to skulking sparrows. It coincided on Sunday that several of the creatures were lazing around the area where the HASP was last seen, which contributed a fair amount of extra vehicular and pedestrian traffic. Fair enough; they are pretty cool.

The HASP had fallen in with a group of White-crowned Sparrows and was being seen somewhat regularly, but this still meant sorting through a lot of different mixed flocks. You know that annoying thing when you're counting in your head and then someone interrupts you and you lose the number? It's kinda like that every time the different WCSP flocks kick up, mix around, settle down, and leave you scanning again from square one. 

Rummaging around in the morning yielded all of the nifty birds above and some other FOYs, but no rare sparrows. As the day wore on, I figured the HASP might have retreated farther from its usual haunt, given the extra commotion relating to the horses. As I headed further away, I ran into birder friend Gordon, who had seen the sparrow a bit earlier. With that bit of encouragement I continued away from the road, redirecting two more lost hikers who were hoping to find horses on the way.
As with the Sprague's Pipit the week before, it was crunch time with an 11:30am departure. I spotted a small flock of WCSP, mostly immature, and in their midst was the comparative demigod Harris's Sparrow. Another buzzer-beater!

Yes, there is horse scat in the foreground of all of these and many other photos. I'm pretty sure these horses fertilize most of the eastern Salt River valley, and now also my shoes and my left knee.

The HASP also continued the SPPI trend of leaving it late and providing poor looks at a great bird. These photos are not meritorious enough to enter the HASP fairly into the Butler's Birds Sparrow Judging contest, but some day perhaps he will make do what his WCSP companions never could, and take the crown.

Salt River Sights

Several weeks ago I met up with two Phoenix area wildlife photographers for some east side birding. In exchange for a delicious Chipotle lunch, I showed them around one of my favorite Salt River sites, Coon Bluff. The bluff itself is a great and famous place to observe perched Bald Eagles, and its lower reaches host all kinds of other cool birds, including Canyon and Rock Wrens, Lucy's Warbler, and Flycatchers in the surrounding bosque.

We first explored the Coon Bluff trail heading west of the parking area, which eventually dead-ends along the Bluff. We had excellent looks at the Eagles, and also a female Common Merganser, seen first out of the water--kind of a rare sighting. I didn't realize how goofy these birds look when photographed head-on, but the blurriness of the image aside this has to be one of the most unflattering photos ever taken of the species.

To be honest, she had weirdly dilated eyes and seemed to be pretty disengaged from her surroundings, like she was in a trance. Must've been drinking the salt water again...

There were plenty of Swallows flying around too, with Rough-wings being the most frequent perchers.

In addition to the always-suave Phainopeplas, Ash-throated Flycatchers, and Vermillion Flycatchers in the mesquite bosque east of the Coon Bluff Parking area, the highlight of the day came in observing a pair of Bald Eagles from across the river. With rolling hills of saguaros in the background, they happily perched, preened, and fed in a very raptor-oreinted cottonwood tree.

There are lots of Eagle nests along the Salt River (which should not themselves be directly/intentionally approached, both for ethical and legal reasons), but Coon Bluff has to be one of the better places to observe these patriotic raptors in Maricopa county. They fly up and down the river, but seem to pause and perch in this area the most, with little regard for lookyloos. Eagle Bluff may be a better name; I have never seen raccoons in the area.

With recent rains helping the keep the desert landscape a most charming green, now is a great time to visit the Salt River sites. Steve and Charlie had a great go of it, snagging some super images not only of the Eagles, but of the Flycatchers and Woodpeckers in the area too.

We didn't find or photograph the wild horses this time around, despite them being the biggest animals in the area, but I did get one of the smallest. And gnats all she wrote.

Call the Bluff

Out east of Phoenix there are several fantastic birding sites along the Salt River. The most well-known, and perhaps the all-round birdiest site, is Granite Reef, which is also the farthest west and provides a trail to the Granite Reef dam, where one can see concentrations of waterfowl a-plenty. But farther east are other attractions which, though comparatively lacking in their waterfowl, have really neat mesquite bosque and chaparral habitats that are absolutely teeming with birds during the right time of year. I swung by Blue Point earlier this winter for a fabulous Red-breasted Sapsucker, and weekend before last I hit up Coon Bluff after stopping by Red Mountain Park for some singing Bendire's Thrashers (see earlier post). 

The Coon Bluff site is stunning, especially as the wild grass shoots up and the scraggily trees bud out after a recent February downpour. That being said, I was a bit unlucky with my timing. When I arrived at the parking area ($6 Tonto National Forest permit required) I discovered the Phoenix metropolitan area boy scouts had planned a full scale, D-Day invasion of the place. I don't mean to sound grumpy, and in fact I was glad to see many people out enjoying the fabulous weather and scenery, I just had to move my birding site farther east than I would've preferred. Ultimately it worked out fine. 

I've been on a bit of a Flycatcher binge lately, and with a particular desire to find and photograph Gray Flycatchers I set out into the mesquite bosque looking for little dull empids. Inevitably, my attention was drawn to the larger, louder, more conspicuous and totally suave Phainopeplas. 

The mesquite trees host hemi-parasitic mistletoe which provide sustenance and lodging for the Phainopeplas. Find some ripe patches of mistletoe, and the treetops will be littered with these cool birds. There were acres of scrub where it seemed like every single tree had its own resident, chatty set of birds. Don't let their red eyes and silky aesthetic fool you. These birds are shameless gossips, as bad as Wrens or elderly neighborhood sodalities. 

The bird sightings tended to come in waves, with mixed flocks moving through and giving one a couple of minutes to try and pick out all the species before they'd inexorably and without apparent coordination, simultaneously move on in a random direction. As one would expect, there were plenty of White-crowned Sparrows and Yellow-rumped Warblers. Lark, Brewer's, and Vesper Sparrows also made it into the mix, while Say's Phoebes and Vermillion Flycatchers impressed with their overhead acrobatics. In the first few hours I picked out three or four Gray Flycatchers but was unable to get satisfactory photos of them. Normally this would be more vexing, but I was content in the knowledge that soon I'd be driving down south to greater concentrations, to strike into the very heart of the Gray Flycatcher nation in Patagonia. 

While out romping around and whooping it up, I also bumped into four British ladies (I didn't literally bump into them; that would've been awkward) who were exploring the bosque with lots of camera equipment and were in search of wild horses. I hadn't given the distant horse noises much thought until then, for when I heard the neighing and whinnying I assumed it was trail-riders and didn't think there was such a thing as wild horses in this area. I kept my personal misgivings private and directed them towards the noises and fresh droppings I noticed earlier that day. And yes, noticing droppings did make me feel like a real live naturalist. I didn't see the ladies again but hopefully they had some luck. I found three different groups of horses during the outing, none of which seemed particularly wild, other than that they were in a non-fenced area. One way or another, here's a cool attraction at Coon Bluff.

Eventually I progressed to the Salt River itself, which being rather thin and shallow at this point, did not host much in way of birds. A few pairs of Common Mergansers were squabbling farther west, and a lonely Great Blue Heron stood vigil at the banks. It's always kinda funny to find the water/riparian habitat to be less birdy than the surrounding desert, but that's the nature of how vegetation grows there.

I did have my FOY (first of year) Western Bluebirds at Coon Bluff, and some of the cottonwoods along the river did allow for better photo opportunities than I'd managed earlier in the day. They may be less iconic than the Eastern Bluebirds, but I gotta argue that the Westerns are prettier. In the right light (not pictured), their colors are positively electric.

The birding diversity at Coon Bluff isn't as high as at Granite Reef, but the openness of the site is very appealing, and since the two are only  few miles apart, stopping at both is the best way to go!

From West to East, to Most from Least

As mentioned in a previous post, I spent last Saturday morning at Tres Rios with Pops chasing after a vagrant Northern Parula and Chestnut-sided Warbler. Of course, we also had an eye out for the other birds around Tres Rios--and there are always plenty--but having dipped on the vagrant warblers and not come away with much in way of photos, it was a somewhat disappointing trip. It felt like the morning had been wasted a bit. So after leaving Tres Rios and indulging in some fortifying lunch, I traded this western extremity of the Phoenix area for far east Mesa, exploring some sites along the Salt River where a Red-breasted Sapsucker has been residing since December.

Since our vagrant warbler quarry at Tres Rios was supposed to be in a single large clump of eucalytpus, we spent most of our time there around those few tress, and as such our species diversity was low.
There were plenty of Lincoln's Sparrows hanging out in the brush piles around the big trees, and some bedraggled Abert's Towhees filled the brisk morning air with their shrieking.

Seeing this Abert's Towhee, and hearing them singing/calling so much, reminded me of how few Thrashers I see at Tres Rios. There could potentially be Bendire's, Sage, and Curve-billed, even Crissal, but I do not believe I have ever seen a Thrasher there. What a dreadful dearth!
Tres Rios does have lots of Cinnamon Teal in the spillways right now, so at least there's that.



We did see lots of raptors during our eucalyptus steak out, with Harris's Hawk, Red-tailed, Cooper's, Sharp-shinned, Osprey, Kestrels, and a Bald Eagle all making for a very carnivorous morning. We didn't pick up Peregrines or Ferruginous Hawks, nor the single Red-shouldered in the area, so factoring these in too, Tres Rios can really bring in the big birds.
 

Eventually our focus and interest waned at Tres Rios, plus pops had some cool, important mechanic-type stuff to do back at home. Feeling a bit defeated, especially with this being my only birding thus far in the the week and weekend, I decided to head over to the Pebble Beach site, about eight miles east from the Salt River dam, to investigate a lost and stubborn woodpecker.



This reclusive, yet very chromatically conspicuous Red-breasted Sapsucker was first found during a December CBC (Christmas Bird Count) in the area, and it's been seen off and on since then. The Pebble Beach site is much like any of the other picnic/hiking areas along the Salt River--some concrete tables, dusty trails, and scattered clumps of chaparral. Honestly, it's not my favorite habitat in which to go birding, but hey if beautiful birds like it, I can like it too.

I arrived at the Pebble Beach site around 3pm--not an ideal birding time--and first just sort of wandered around, curious to see what would turn up. The first half hour produced lots of Phainopeplas and Gila Woodpeckers, but no Sapsuckers. I eventually noticed some mesquite trees with lots of fresh-looking sap wells in them, and figured that maybe with some patience (the worst!) somebody would visit.

Frustratingly enough, the first birds to come by the sap wells during my vigil were Yellow-rumped Warblers and House Finches. Assumedly they weren't eating the sap, as Sapsuckers sometimes do, but were just enjoying some of the insects the sweet sticky stuff attracts (which Sapsuckers also do). But after another ten minutes I saw a flash of black, white, and red entering my peripheral vision. 

What a stunner! I saw one of these birds several years ago in Northern California, but the sighting was brief and distant. Seeing it again, fairly close, and against such a comparatively dull and dreary background...it rocked my socks off.

After ogling this splendid specimen for a little while and watching him move on to other wells, I located and re-applied my socks, before heading back to the car and west towards the Granite Reef Dam. The Granite Reef site is the western most site along the Salt River, and is also, overall, the birdiest. The guest parking area hosts lots of different Sparrows and Flycatchers while the adjacent river walk gives one the opportunity to view lots of waterfowl, including Mergansers and Goldeneye.

While observing this slinking female Ladder-backed Woodpecker, I ran into fellow Arizona birder, blogger, and photographer Gordon Karre, who was showing the sites to another birder from New Jersey. It's always nice to run into other birders and bloggers. Earlier that day I had bumped into Jeff Ritz and some of his crew out at Tres Rios, and I met another very knowledgable birding couple while looking at the Sapsucker.

There wasn't actually a lot going on at the Granite Reef site, though the fellow from New Jersey, having apparently not birded Arizona or much of the southwest before, was racking up lifers like crazy, including the Ladder-backed Woodpecker pictured above.

So I found some good birds and good birders. Tres Rios let me down a bit, but I saw a gorgeous Sapsucker so the day didn't...err hem...'suck' after all.

Plus, I went back and got the Parula on Monday, so Tres Rios and I can still be friends too.

Great Birding at Gloomy Granite Reef

The Granite Reef Dam and recreations site is one of the western-most structures on the salt river as it flows into the city. None of that really matters. More importantly, it's another great birding spot that's within a thirty minute drive of Central Phoenix, and until Saturday was one of the few Maricopa County birding hotspots I had not investigated. Pops and I headed out early. It was a chilly, overcast morning, and the clouds stayed put all through our hike. Despite the less-than-ideal conditions, Granite Reef was indeed a great site. We saw 67 confirmed species of birds, including two more Lifers for me, and sustained only minimal bodily damage in the process!

We parked about a half mile east of the recreation site, in part to avoid parking fees and to explore more of the terrain. There is a slightly overgrown but manageable path running parallel to the river, and soon after getting to the water's edge from the car we witnessed our first Granite Reef birds. Like any good rainy day of birding, this one started with some Common Gallinule.



We continued along the river, eyes darting back and forth between the water and the bustling tree canopies above us. There were lots of handsome Yellow-Rumped Warblers darting around, but Swallows provided the real action. There were hundreds of them swooping, soaring, and diving above the river, and they maintained their relentless extermination of all airborne insects for the duration of our trip. The Rough-Winged Swallows and Bank Swallows made up the majority, but Tree Swallows, Cliff Swallows, and even a few Barn Swallows were also visible in the feeding frenzy. I could not take any presentable Swallow pictures, so this pair of nice, easy-going Mallards provided the consolation prize.

As the Salt River approached the Granite Reef dam, it becomes much wider and deeper. The number and diversity of the waterfowl really picks up, although American Coots are still the largest constituency. We had some nice looks at Cinnamon Teal, Redheads, Ring-Necks, and Canvasback.

Across the lake, this sole Eared Grebe, fully decked-out in his naval uniform/breeding regalia, patrolled the final stretch of accessible water, making sure that if anybody crossed the buoys, they'd do it by swimming.

"Abandon All Boats, Ye Who Enter Here"

We started to run out of room along the waterfront and found another path leading through the thick undergrowth, now looking for Warblers, Flycatchers, and whatever made its home in the gloomy woods.   Along with your standard dose of Abert's Towhees, there were a lot of Phainopeplas in the area. I was surprised to see them not only adorning the treetops, but also foraging deep into the undergrowth and near the ground--not really the sort of behavior to expect from silky Flycatchers. This was also the first time I've been able to observe Phainopepla nests. Perhaps the added demands of parenthood abolished the birds' normal scruples with low-level feeding.

Here a female sits atop her stately teacup nest.

The woods were very thick at times, and unfortunately the willow trees and cottonwoods often intermingled with thorny mesquite and ironwood trees to make navigation a slow and painstaking process. But the dense foliage served its purpose, even as it blocked out what little sunlight there was. There were Cardinals, Brewer's Sparrows, White-Crowns, tons of Yellow-Rumped Warblers, and even some Wilson's Warblers.

(I said great looks not great photos)

Throughout the day we found two pairs of calling Bullock's Orioles, whose fiery orange, yellow, and white couldn't be suppressed even by the thoroughly overcast sky.

The Yellow-Rumped Warblers like to form ferocious gangs. They roamed around terrorizing tree canopies with no consideration or restraint. If you're small, invertebrate, and have more than four legs...don't let these gangs catch you. They would move through areas with astonishing numbers and quickness, cleaning out the local insect populations and chattering all the while. It was hard not to get caught up in the momentum at times, both for ourselves and for other birds. This Hermit Warbler gave up his life of isolation and was recruited into the cartel, where he did his share of the work in decimating the insect population.

The Hermit Warbler was a first for Pops and me. Even though they do migrate through the area, it was a totally unexpected sighting. When the yellow head catches the light, it's a very striking bird.

As we approached the dam, the woodlands became more and more thin. The trees were shorter and the bird species again shifted. Along the woody margin we saw Chipping Sparrows, White-Winged Doves, and a Northern Harrier. Some Lazuli Buntings provided another great surprise, though the subsequent photographic pursuit was in vain. At least I photographed some Javelina. That's just as good right..?

Pedestrians are barred access to the dam itself, and a large worksite on the south side of the river forced us to take an additional detour to get around to the west side. We followed a canal for part of the way and got to observe the chaparral and its inhabitants, including some exceedingly red House Finches, just as the sun finally started to break through the clouds.

After having a nice reunion with an Ash-Throated Flycatcher at Tres Rios last week, it was a delight to find a very active couple in a large, flowering mesquite tree along the man-made waterway. I can't exactly explain why I think these birds are so cool. Maybe it's just that they're more sizable but without sacrificing any color. Maybe it's that they don't turn into chickens when I try to take their picture.  Even considering the most excellent Hermit Warbler, the Ash-Throated Flycatcher was my favorite sighting of the day.



We continued to walk along the chaparral, keeping our eyes and ears peeled (ouch!) for any bird signs. With our concentration on the marginal trees and shrubs, it was a great bit of fortune that I happened to look down just in time to avoid stepping on this coiled Glossy Snake. Upon close inspection, it appeared that this snake was dead already. Maybe it was just feeling super sluggish with the lack of warm light, or maybe it's better at playing dead than Elvis. Either way, we moved it off the road and continued in our loop back to the parking lot.

We decided to retrace our steps to where we had last seen the Lazuli Buntings, hoping they'd make another appearance. There was no more luck on that account, but it was a felicitous decision, for in the Buntings' place we encountered a brazen Olive-Sided Flycatcher. Of course, he was perched atop the tallest tree he could find, but a break in the clouds allowed for some quick shots, and we were treated to some dexterous in-flight displays as he charged from perch to perch.

It was a great trek, and Granite Reef definitely deserves its fine reputation as one of the premier birding areas in Maricopa County. With Granite Reef on the east side, Tres Rios on the west side, Glendale Recharge Ponds to the north and the Gilbert Water Ranch to the south, Phoenix-area birders can go in any direction and find great birds.