Saluting the Flag (BIF Repost)

Hello Bird Nerds, Friends, Family, and Web Vagrants,

It was a busy week and a busier weekend. I apologize for the low output of new blogging material this weekend, and hope to get caught up in the next few days. In the mean time, here's some high altitude material from earlier this week at Birding Is Fun.

--Flagstaff that is, or rather, the high elevation environments near Flagstaff that provide wonderful, unique, and existentially essential birding! Yes indeed, Arizona birders love their desert dwellers and their southeastern specialties, but sometimes one just needs chilly mountains and pines to complete the holistic birding experience. If those mountains also happen to have high elevation specialists and other cool-temperature loving birds that aren't easily found elsewhere in the state then, well, so be it.

Western Bluebirds aren't only found up in the mountains, but up in the mountains they're a guarantee.

Several weeks ago, some very intriguing reports trickled their way down from up north. A Eurasian Wigeon on Mormon Lake, twenty miles south of Flagstaff, was complimented by sightings of Red Crossbills and Evening Grosbeaks at the Mormon Lake lodge nearby. Heading up a week later, a birding buddy of mine found something even cooler.  After successfully scanning the grasslands on the other side of Mormon Lake for Rough-legged Hawk, I parked near the lodge and began scanning. Almost immediately Grosbeak sounds started emanating from the nearby ponderosas, but before getting near these trees I had to cross a drainage ditch. 

Like any 2-D video game, these ditches are often treacherous to jump across, and are usually full of dangerous critters. In this case the critters were of some interest, as Chipping Sparrow and Dark-eyed Junco emerged to get the Sparrow count up and running for the day.  

That was to be expected, but an odd sighting at ground level was this Pygmy Nuthatch, which was perhaps given the false affirmation by its parents that when it grew up, it could be anything it wanted. Alas, it was clearly not a Junco, no matter how it tried, but I was still willing to accept it for what it was, even if this bird was not being true to itself. 

There, that's more like it. 

The ground birds were obliging, but all the while I was following them around I couldn't shake the disappointment in how small their beaks were. After all, this trip was about seeing big rude birds with big rude beaks. The calls were still resonating in the ponderosas, and the sighting could be delayed no more. 

About twenty feet or so up the trees, there they were. Thirteen of ABA 2012's Bird of the Year. They perched, they flaunted, they exuded all the style and panache to be expected of a former BOY. It was a terrific shame to have missed them in 2012, and a terrific joy to find them in 2013. 

Bold and brash, these are among the most royal of finches, and with beaks like that, who's going to argue with them? Nobody, that's who.

The unibrow, the yellow, the broad chest...yes yes this truly was a mighty Bird of the Year, one of the top three there's ever been.

Like many birds, the sexual dimorphism of the Grosbeaks is less kind to the females, who have their own unique charm but are somewhat drab by comparison. For that matter, sometimes they're not too charming either. I think she was a little grumpy to have been bumped off her perch by a Nighthawk, and a Common one no less. Lady Macbeth...

While crouched beneath the ponderosa pines, I was visited by another prominently beaked bird. This was the only Red Crossbill on which I laid eyes throughout the day. It flew into the tree and landed only ten feet away. It was a surprisingly abrupt approach, and in fact I think the bird did not see me, for as soon as it turned its head it was off, leaving my with but a single photo and a lovely memory. What a heartbreaker. That Crossbill has to be one of the coolest example of micro-evolution in North America.

The Grosbeaks, Nuthatches, and Bluebirds, along with the obligatory Pine Siskins, were the vociferous and highly visible denizens of the lower crown on the tree.

Higher in the ponderosas there was a different group of birds. Woodpeckers lead a life that only other Woodpeckers understand, and perhaps also heavy metal rockers, and hammers--ok anybody who has to smash their face against something for a living. 

Some Northern Flickers fed on the ground, but the higher reaches of the Trees belonged to the melanerpes and the picoides. Acorn and Hairy Woodpeckers were the most common, but a few Lewis's Woodpeckers added their peculiar mix of color and attitude to the upper canopies as well. 

Someday, I hope to get a Lewis's Woodpecker and Clark's Nutcracker together in a single shot. If someone else has managed that, please come forward for your Lewis and Clark appreciation medal and a $100,000 prize from the government.

Also in the area, rather annoyingly, were several Eurasian Collared Doves. These large and chalky doves normally do not bother me, even though they're and invasive and quickly expanding species. In city limits, they provide a nice diversity with the other common doves and feeder birds.

However, seeing them out in the relative pristine of the Mormon Lake woods felt like a violation of sorts. Surely, not here? Is not place safe from these city-slickers? You're in the wrong context Dove!

Having seen the Doves and now feeling a bit unclean, I left Mormon Lake and headed north to Walnut Canyon, in the hopes of finding Pinyon Jays and Mountain Chickadees. Walnut Canyon is a real beauty, with a small visitor center and some tables making for a nice picnic area.

The Pinyon Jays were elusive to the camera, but Steller's Jays were more than numerous. Bushtits were also abundant, as were Bridled and Juniper Titmouse.

With time starting to run out, I finally got a visual on some Mountain Chickadees as well--of course they were positioned perfectly to have the lighting against them. They were a bit of a hassle but come on, what trip to the mountains is complete without a bird that has Mountain in its name? 

This stately Mountain Bluebird on a cattle guard was a lovely punctuation mark to a great day of birding. Riparian habitats, desert scrub, salt marshes, and grasslands all make for beautiful, teeming birding sites, but there is something particularly invigorating, particularly satisfying about birding in montane forests, and for that I salute the Flagstaff. 

Little Birds around the Big Mountain

Peak just a little higher than 7,000 feet, Mt. Ord is highest point in Maricopa County. It's tall and cool enough to host ponderosa pines along with scrub oak; as such it provides some welcome elevation and the different birds that elevation brings, within an hour drive of Phoenix. 

This mountain has some real gems too, not just with Common Black and Zone-tailed Hawk, but also Band-tailed Pigeon, Northern Pygmy Owl, Scott's Oriole, and even the occasional Evening Grosbeak. One of my good birding buddies (good buddy, great birder) knows the mountain backwards and forwards, and has found all of these goodies. I'm a greenhorn with these slopes, but hope to remedy that by the end of the summer which has, by the way, totally started. 98 degrees in Phoenix today...  

A few weeks ago I made a trip up to Ord, hoping to see what migrants were passing through and what breeders were starting to settle into their territory. In some ways it was a disappointing trip. I did not find any lifers nor any particularly difficult year birds, and it was also during this time I first discovered that my camera's autofocus was broken (all these images were manual). Many of the birds I found were also common at lower elevations, and thus in a sense not worth the longer trip, but all that complaining aside, the numbers of birds, the magnitude of their songs, and the beautiful weather made the excursion a satisfying success.

Driving up the winding slopes of Ord to Forest Road 1688, the hilly chaparral was buzzing with the sounds of Black-chinned Sparrows and Spotted Towhees. With no shoulders on the rough dirt road, stopping to observe and photograph was tricky, but racking up the birds before one is even at the primary destination is a pretty great feeling.

On the Maricopa side of Mt. Ord, the two main birding options are hiking up Forest Road 1688 or driving to the summit and having a shorter hike there. The FR 1688 allows for a better bird-to-travel- distance ratio and is the route I elected to take, though the summit can be very birdy at the right time.
The two most dominant birds at this mid-level of Ord were the Blue-gray Gnatcatchers and Black-throated Gray Warblers.

Fluttering in the agave and scrub oak along the FR 1688 trail, the Gnatcatchers were by far the most numerous, and the BTG Warblers out-vocalized even the Spotted Towhees from their elevated ponderosa perches. The cost of their elevated vantage point came photographically, but they were joined by the occasional Grace's and Virginia's Warbler higher up the mountain.

It had to be a shorter day from some non-birding reasons, and the time constraints precluded a visit to the normal, follow-up stop near Sunflower, which central Arizona birders rightfully pair with the Mountain. Sunflower is one of the best spots for Common Black and Zone-tailed Hawk in central Arizona, but on this particular day I had other targets. 

Despite them being small and rather drab, I woke up that morning determined to get some nice shots of Bell's and Warbling Vireo. In fact, any photos at all of the Bell's would be an improvement. To maximize my chances, these targets necessitated a stop at Mesquite Wash, a sometimes aqueous creek bed about twenty miles southwest of Ord off the Highway 87, just within the mountain's shadow. This riparian habitat is great for the Vireos, as well as Grosbeaks and even Cuckoos later in the summer. 

The entrance and parking area at this site are unsettling, as they're populated by ATV/Motocross enthusiasts tearing around, but they stay out of the actual wash area, for the most part, and I picked up a foraging Lucy's Warbler while leaving the car.  

Being small and rather nondescriptly marked, Bell's Vireos are more quickly heard than seen. Their cheedle chee chee cheedle chew  call is very recognizable, but getting clear shots of these dense-brush denizens ain't no cake walk in the tea park. With the autofocus on the fritz, I was not overly optimistic either, but they say God favors the drunk, the insane, and the Irish, and since I'm at least two out of those three things at any point in time, the odds were maybe in my favor after all.

Not too far from the wash and not too far down its channel, I heard the familiar, heralding screech of a Bell's Vireo, and more than one. Their activity was concentrated in a surprisingly small area, and after picking out the globular mass in the branches it became clear why.
The pair of Bell's Vireos was building a nest along the wash. Rock on! This was a godsend. With a bit of patience and perseverance, I knew exactly where these flighty birds would come and be still, at least for several seconds. Who needs autofocus!?

I had time to dial in the manual focus, take some practice shots for my untrained eye (which cannot often recognize, through my viewfinder, when an image is 100% in focus or not), and then ready myself for a short, ferocious flurry of bursting camera fire.

"Do you like..?"

One of the Bell's Vireo's came in with nesting material, pausing only for a few seconds to stick it in a nook, look up and around, and then fly back several yards into the brush to gather more.

When the smoke settled I came away with some satisfactory shots and was ready to move on, leaving the domestic Bell's Vireos in peace while I pursued the Warbling Vireos sounding off in the distance.
Unfortunately, given their preference for foliage and my lack of time, I did not get much in way of visuals on the WAVI, part from some quick glimpses. A distant Solitary Vireo caught my attention though, as a Solitary consolation.

With Blue-headed by and large out of the question, and the yellow sides ruling out Plumbeous, it had to be a Cassin's Vireo up above, hardly a bad trade off for Warbling (in fact, I'll take that any day). 

Mt. Ord still beckons, but I was very satisfied with Mesquite Wash, and look forward to a Yellow-billed Cuckoo hunt there in July. 

Despite Zone-tailed Hawk and Pacific-slope Flycatcher up on Mt. Ord, the nesting Vireos took the cake, both for the coolness of the sighting and the manner in which I was able to photograph it. The nest looked pretty comfy too--wouldn't mind them making one for me as well...

Love and Heartbreak in Glendale

I have a terrific love/hate relationship with the Glendale Recharge Ponds. They bring in more waterfowl and shorebirds than just about any other site in Maricopa County, including rarities and vagrants, but are forever frustrating photographically, due to the distances and adverse lighting that is often involved. 

About thirty minutes away from the apartment, it's a doable stop after work, and one that has produced many FOY birds in the last several weeks. It has been during these weekday explorations, however, that I discovered my camera lens is malfunctioning. With no autofocus, it has made many aspects of photography difficult, difficult and very frustrating.



Stationary shorebirds aren't too problematic, but my weekend trips elsewhere have been hurting, particularly in trying to photograph the smaller, quicker birds. I sent the lens into Sony for repairs--hopefully it will get back by Friday of this week--so here are a few of the ol' 55mm photos from this past week. To offset the tragedy of the lens, here are some risque, PG-13 photos of beautiful birds making more beautiful birds.

Avocet Amore

Arlington Wildlife Refuge: The Maricopa Everglades

It's quite the farfetched comparison, and probably not one that could be sustained for very long, but even so, if you visit the Arlington Wildlife Refuge and the surrounding farmland in the right time of year, it feels pretty swampy, pretty evergladesy. It will always be lacking the wader diversity and large carnivorous lizards of the Florida swamps, but a visit here can still supply some of that satisfaction that comes with birding a somewhat tropical, verdant area. 

The wetlands themselves are not particularly expansive, nowhere near the size or diversity of Tres Rios or the Gilbert Water Ranch, but they're still good spring and summer spots for Yellow-headed Blackbirds, Black-crowned Night Herons, Sora, Virginia, and maybe even Clapper Rail.

The Rails don't show very often, but the YHBB's are very conspicuous right now, perched atop their stalks and letting fly with their metallic, watery call. Their numbers aren't huge, but the Arlington marsh is one area where they seem to actually outnumber the Red-winged Blackbirds, who are, for whatever, reason, less conspicuous. The only other place where YHBBs outnumber the RWBBs is around a cattle feed troughs, which are generally less pleasant to investigate.

For me, the main attraction of the Arlinton area is not the Wildlife Refuge, though it's always worth a quick walkthrough, but the grassy farmland that lies just to the north. In March and April the combination of irrigation and rain showers, along with the warmer temperatures, promotes a sudden and expansive growth in all the fields. Like the birds, I then feel an intense desire to take of my shoes and go walk around in it, the ground being soft and moist (a rare thing in central AZ) and the grass being soft and lush (another rare thing in Arizona).

While walking around the perimeters of these fields, the bird diversity drops down, but the numbers of the birds goes up, if you can pick out the pods. What's all this then?

Ah, of course, it is a crowd of Ibis, White-faced to be precise, grazing in the greenery.

One of several bird species to be found in the Arlington area with very prominent proboscises, The White-faced Ibis is not living up to its namesake right now, but will develop the white face outline later on. For the moment, it's almost a Glossy...(Arizona birders wish).

Large flocks, numbering in the sixties and seventies, of Ibis and Egrets lope through the marshy grass, and smaller bands of marauding members of the Yellowlegs clan work the spaces in-between.



Violence is rare on the Arlington fields, even while Harriers often buzz overhead, but there is a certain understood jockeying for position. The birds that combine to be the largest/most numerous tend to monopolize the best feeding areas. Smaller birds in smaller groups, like these Yellowlegs, wait until the Egrets or Ibis spook or drift, and then move into the prime territory.



I was observing these charming dynamics when another one of the heavy-hitter gangs rolled into town. Largest sandpiper in North America, large numbers, impressive hardware...the Long-billed Curlews are not a group with whom one should trifle.

The Curlews are also one of the less common wading birds to find in the fields, though Arlington is still one of the best places to scan for them. I was lucky on this day when the herd (that is the proper term) of Curlew landed just fifty yards or so away, full of probing confidence.

March was a good time to observe these birds, as plenty of younger models made for interesting size comparisons, both in overall body mass and in bill length. In the photo below, the bird in the top left corner can't really be mistaken for anything else, but the foreground birds, at a distance or with some forgetting of facial patterns, could be taken for Whimbrels. 

Lookit the monstrous beaks on these rockstars. The earthworms and insects, already given serious anxiety from the fields' flooding, do not stand a chance. Like many shorebirds, Curlews have a certain economy of style with their coloration, but the intricate plumage within the brown and cinnamon spectrum is fascinating, indeed, gorgeous.

Maybe my billing of the Arlington riparian area as the Arizona everglades is hyperbole. After all, there are no Spoonbills or Tri-colored Herons, but you could still maybe operate the fields with a fan-boat, and for finding big flocks of waders there are few places better in central Arizona.