A Rookie Mistake: Dial Plan B (For Birding)

Last weekend it was all planned out...kind sorta somewhat perhaps. It wasn't going to be a full-on epic bird day, but it was supposed to be pretty good. I was going to scour the Sierra Vista hillsides, chasing down leads on Montezuma Quail, and then spend a few hours in Ramsey and Huachuca Canyon. It was going to be crisp, efficient, and potentially a 3-Quail day. But I have a serious short coming as a birder (several, I am sure). Being from Phoenix, I grew up with a nasty, nasty habit. No no it's not smoking, which is of course scientifically proven to strengthen respiration as the tar helps oxygen stick to one's lungs. No it is because in Phoenix we have about 358 days of sunshine each year, so when we're making weekend plans, weekday plans...any kind of plans, there's never need to check the weather. 

Of course with birding, weather is key, and I totally dropped the ball on checking the Sierra Vista weather before heading out from under Phoenix's clear skies at 3:30am. 

It was heavily overcast, rainy in some places, and exceedingly windy. The first couple of hours in the area were almost devoid of bird activity, except for a few sympathetic Lark Sparrows, and so I sulked (snoozed) in the car instead of seeing glorious Quail, who were all wisely keeping their heads down.

By 10am or so the weather still hadn't cleared. I spent some time in Ramsey Canyon, trying to get away from the wind, where I was very pleased to find all three species of Goldfinch in the sycamores around the AZ Folklore compound. Apart from the finches and some FOY Scott's Orioles it was pretty dead.

By 11am the sun had risen high enough that it occasionally broke through the heavy cloud cover, though the terminally heavy wind kept most of the birds down low.

Rufous-crowned Sparrows were good sports about it all, still vocalizing when they had the chance and giving some life to the Sierra Vista grasslands. I would prefer Five-striped, naturally, but to each their proper time and place.

A pair of Pyrrhuloxias in Ramsey canyon also made for a nice sighting. This is a bird I don't see or photograph nearly enough, given their relative rarity in Maricopa County, and this is especially distressing as they're way more rad than Northern Cardinals.

Although there were a few nice sightings, for all the driving and time killed it was a pretty disastrous start to the morning. I decided to head farther north back toward the Tucson area to pursue some birds where the elements were more cooperative. I learned a lesson, learned it well and good. The question was if Plan B could redeem something of my Saturday. 

The next site was Christopher Columbus Park, a pre-fabricated suburban watering hole with uncomfortably blue-colored water that, nonetheless, has highly visible Wood Ducks.

It doesn't even have great habitat for them, but whatever the reason a Wood Duck drake has been here all winter, and this was a species I had not been able to photograph up close, having formerly flushed them at Tres Rios or seen them at a distance in Prescott. It's not a rare Quail, but it's a gorgeous thing.

Wood Ducks weren't the only offerings at the park. Though not as cool as the Thick-billed Kingbirds for which I'll be traveling through Patagonia in a month, or even the taller, darker, handsomer Cassin's, I also had some really nice sightings of Western Kingbird around the park's grassland. They're common and conspicuous, and also pretty cool. But usually they're up on the telephone wires and what not, and although their bellies are a lovely yellow, it doesn't make for great repeated viewing. Seeing them at eye level was tops.

By 1pm or so, the sun was out over Tucson, which is a bit over an hour northwest of Sierra Vista, enough so that birds were taking shelter from its midday wrath. It was too late to head southeast again, where the weather was likely still inclement anyway, but the few birds at Christopher Columbus offered some great sightings as a consolation.

In addition to the earlier mentioned Wood Duck sightings/dynamics, I've also seen them, distantly in Pennsylvania, but this unwholesome pond in Tucson, by far, offered the best looks I've had in the last few years, and hey even a nifty Wood Duck vs. Mallard size comparison (the Mallard looks like a giant). 

Chasing the waterfowl at city parks almost feels like cheating. That's not to detract from the tick or the photos or any of that. In a sense, these ducks are still more wild/less baited than the feeder-fed Hummingbirds in Madera or Miller Canyon, or at the Paton House, but it just feels very removed from nature, from the proper context of when and where one should be seeing these cool species.
That being said, the when and where for Wood Ducks in Arizona isn't exactly easy access, so I can't complain. I can only berate myself, and check the weather.

King of the West: Western Kingbird

Western Kingbirds are big, yellow, and ornery, much like Big Bird from Sesame Street. Unlike Big Bird from Sesame Street, they're aesthetically pleasing and can fly really well. What's not to like?

Western Kingbirds can be found throughout most of the western half of the U.S. in the spring and summer months, but they seem to be especially populous in Texas. While on a trip to Dallas last weekend, I had the pleasure of observing these feisty flycatchers once more.

Though I saw lots of them during my morning birding trip to Cedar Hill State Park, I hadn't gotten good pictures yet. I was being driven into downtown Dallas by two excellent and accommodating friends, when I spied a Kingbird perched atop a sign. Upon hearing my panicked cries, they swung the car around and we all transitioned perfectly into safari birding mode--it was marvelous. The Kingbird flew across the street to a new perch, but using great teamwork we all got in the right position to get some shots. Well done team!

He adopted a rusted iron cable for as his perch of terror. From this lofty throne, his majesty would descend to terrorize the fire ant minions living on the ground below, claiming the sacrifices one at a time.



Another reason to love Kingbirds: They massacre fire ants--truly, a King worthy of adulation and praise.

Trek Rios

I've been thinking lately that it would be fun for someone do to a birding blog from the perspective of an other-worldly observer, you know, like the Star Trek people. So, with little forethought and even less qualification, here's my one-time attempt. Try to imagine this being dictated in William Shatner's inimitable voice. If it seems to work well, maybe this sort of transcript can be presented as podcasts later on, once I figure out what a podcast is.

Stardate: 04/16/2012

It was a harsh and unforgiving heat. The cruel sun sat high in the sky, baking and desiccating its poor subjects. I disembarked at the Tres Rios biological observation area, hoping to make a quick survey of the avifauna without any local, homo sapien confrontation. Alas, this was not to be. At the beginning of the trail I was forced to remonstrate with two adolescent earthlings who were engaging in a ritual display of manly grit as they drove their all-terrain vehicles in a continually circular fashion. I persuaded them to relocate so they did not taint my species sampling. They were begrudgingly obliging.

The Tres Rios Wetlands combine several different microcosms of common earth habitats, principally riparians swamp and semi-arid woodlands. In one of the first large cottonwood trees there is a noisy conglomerate of roosting Great Blue Herons. I asked them to take me to their leader, but they all flew in different, even opposite directions. Realizing this obvious ruse, I instead continued westward, into the interior of the site.

In these Heron colonies, the young intermingle with the old, learning their wisdom and hearing repeated stories about the "good ol' days."

Although the Heron colonies have a lethargic feeling to them in the afternoon, there are always vigilant sentries on the lookout. With its coiled, powerful neck and spear-like beak, the Great Blue Heron is an elegant killing machine.

Though they boast an impressive wing-span, the Herons are terrestrial predators. Similarly, the large Black Vultures, often seen gliding overhead, must also come to the ground to feed. I cannot help suspecting that as it carelessly sailed above, doing its best to seem nonchalant, this vulture was in fact waiting for me to show a sign of weakness. With its effortless flight and bacteria-proof, calloused head, the Black Vulture is an elegant killing machine.

After the initial, wide entrance area to Tres Rios, the dirt path narrows and follows right along the waterfront. There are many different species to be found in the reeds, and other birds feeding in the shallows.

Along with Snowy Egrets and Green Herons, I was able to spot a few Solitary Sandpipers in the muddy perimeter. These birds do not rank that highly on the inter-galactic beauty scales, but they're not overly common in the area, and they are also elegant killing machines.

There were a few Dowitchers around too, feeding with the motion and speed of a sewing-machine (the kind which I use on my velour uniforms). I tried very hard to turn this into a Short-Billed Dowitcher, but I never could see much of the bill, and have resigned myself to the reality that, despite my many lightyears of travel, all I have yet come away with from my time on earth is the Long-Billed. Long or Short-Billed, they both appear to be elegant killing machines.

As the Tres Rios water-flow widens and deepens, the shorebirds desist and are replaced by flotillas of waterfowl, including Teal, Ruddy Ducks, and American Coots. The Ruddy Ducks and Blue-Winged Teals both have some nice blue accentuations in their coloration. I cannot confirm, but my professional suspicion is that they use these bits of blue to distract their prey before attacking in a manner most befitting elegant killing machines.

With danger lurking around every corner, my phaser was never far from reach. The beautiful but deadly birds were not the only threat. While chasing after a mysterious flycatcher, I came upon a large beehive. These flower-loving insects form massive groups controlled by some sort of whimsical hive-mind. They might well have conquered the earth by now if the individuals did not have such short lifespans, and if their only means of self defense or offense were not also fatal. Though their nectar is sweet, these Bees are not elegant killing machines.

Atop the bee tree there rested this debonaire Western Kingbird. Handsome, cocky, cantankerous...it reminded me of myself as a young lad. As the bird's name, posture, and exuding confidence all indicate, it is an apex predator of insects, a truly elegant killing machine.

But my sightings were not limited to just the large and powerful birds in the Tres Rios area. True enough, I did see White Pelicans, Harris' Hawks, and a Bald Eagle at different points, but the small and dainty birds, the Sparrows, if you will, provided equal intrigue. 

This Song Sparrow was chief among the gregarious little birds. After flitting about in the dry reeds, it put on a display of cuteness for which I was not properly prepared. Just as I started to let my guard down, I realized it was a trap. While this lead Sparrow distracted me, its hunting partners had moved in to attack from the sides, ready to slash me into velour ribbons with their elegant, killing-machine claws.

From the sound of the Song Sparrows and the Red-Winged Blackbirds nearby, I knew I was surrounded. I hit the panic button and was quickly beamed aboard to safety. Although it was a narrow escape, I shall return soon to continue my ornithological survey of the planet called Earth.

Transmission Over,

Butler Out