Diminutive Diver--The Lesser Scaup

Depending on the season, the Lesser Scaup can be found in freshwater lakes, ponds, and marshes throughout all of North and Central America. Even with the somewhat diminutive name, they're one of the most abundant and probably the most widespread species of duck in the United States. Despite the possible banality that can come with such a common creature, I only see Scaup during the winter time and, for some reason, much less frequently than many other wintering ducks, so I still find them to be pretty fun.

Their coloration combines elements of Ring-Necked Ducks and Greater Scaup, and if it isn't quite as jaw-dropping as the plumage of say, a Mandarin Duck, there's something inescapably pleasant about the Lesser Scaup's smooth features. Just look at the up-turn there at the base of the bill--the bird is caught in a permanent smile.

The unfortunate blurriness of this photo aside, you can see both the similarities and differences between Lesser Scaup and the Ring-Necked Ducks. The purple shows through on the Ring-Necked, and the back is a solid black, while the Scaup's sides are a brighter white. The white and black at the tip of the Ring-Necked Duck's bill are very prominent, and it is perhaps demonstrative of the Lesser Scaup's personality that he lets the more boldly colored ducks steal the show.

But take him for granted and PLOOP!

He's gone, diving for edibles and planning his re-emergence with all the confidence one might sooner expect of a Greater Scaup!

A classy duck and a gentleman of the ponds, the Lesser Scaup is a welcome addition to any winter waterfowl entourage.

Here is the lovely lady.

Flamboyance Incarnate--The Mandarin Duck

What would you get if you transmogrified a Green Heron with a Cedar Waxwing and a Wood Duck? It would probably be a heinous and unnatural creation. Luckily we do not have to entertain such hideous science, because we already have the Mandarin Duck!

Technically we don't really have Mandarin Ducks in North America, though they are related to the Wood Duck. They were once widespread in China and East Russia, but have significantly dwindled in the wild and are now a majority in-captivity species. They occasionally turn up around the United States, either as escapees or released birds, and are always stunning to see.

This solitary male was at the Kiwanis Park in Tempe, AZ, and was clearly acclimated to people as he let me get very close even despite my gawking.

Here you can see the ruddy beard of the Green Heron, the yellow and white creamy facial feathers that resemble a Waxwing, and of course the prominent greens, blues, and reads on top of the head. The colors continue on the bird's breast, where they are accented by a central white spot. The bold black and white shoulder stripes give way to the zebra-striped flanks, dark blue feathers on the back, and the conspicuous, vertical paddles towards the back.

The Mandarin Duck is not on any official ABA lists since it is both a recent introduction and most species found in the wild are not second generation. That probably won't change for a long time, but I feel pretty lucky to see this bird first hand, as it is no doubt one of the most colorful creatures to be found in North America, and perhaps the world.

Long-Billed Dowitcher

By far the most interesting bird in North America, the Long-Billed Dowitcher turns heads wherever it goes. Ok, I'm exaggerating a fair bit. Like many shorebirds/waders, the Long-Billed is somewhat muted and requires careful observation and consideration to distinctly identify it from other species. Shore bird identification is an art unto itself, and while the Long-Billed isn't too problematic, it's nice that even these simpler looking birds demand such scrutiny.

This fine fellow was feeding in a drainage/run-off ditch near some cotton fields in west Phoenix. Ordinarily, it's a difficult distinction between the Long-Billed and Short-Billed, especially when they mix  and feed together. Luckily for us amateurs here in Arizona (and I don't mean to say that Arizonans are amateurs, just that it's nice to be an amateur in AZ ok? ok good.), the Short-Billed do not really stray in from the coasts, and they're never found in the state after October.

Another helpful clue is the darker stripes on the bird's tail primaries. I know it's not especially visible here, but the horizontal black and white on those little tail feathers would be a lighter brown with the Short-Billed.

I don't know what he was pulling up from the muck, but he was feeding with determination and gusto. It's always kind of fun to find these sorts of normally gregarious shorebirds all on their own. It makes the sighting seem more rare or more special, and this Dowitcher was a nice highlight on an already excellent birding excursion.

Wing It With The Kinglet

Flighty, stubby, bubbly, and exceptionally small, Kinglets are a family unto themselves. The Ruby Crowns are found in the winter time throughout much of the U.S., although it's a rare and lucky thing to actually get a good view of that bright red cap. The Golden Crowned Kinglet shows its crown more readily, but is partial to coniferous forests (a photographic nightmare), while the Ruby-Crowned is perfectly content in both desert scrub and stagnant marshes. 

Kinglets move like they've got electric current going through them. Watching them bounce around trees devouring insects, leaves, and many other odds and ends leaves one wondering if they're not so much beautiful and petit songbirds as mindless eating machines (yes, it could be both).

With their wing bars, eye ring, and yellow rachis, the Kinglet still provides plenty of eye candy even when the crown is not on display. I was recently reading too that they lay batches of a dozen eggs, by far the most for any songbird within their size-range. Can you imagine a nest full of 12 Kinglets? Total mayhem.

Never a wasted moment observing these industrious little birds.

New Birds!

I've been trying to cram as much last minute birding into this week before school resumes, and while we (Pops and I) haven't always visited the most lush or beautiful places, we've made an excellent run with new species these last few days. With half-day parent-teacher conferences all this week, I'm needing all the escape I can get. We checked out both the notorious thrasher spot west of Phoenix, where the Salome Highway meets the I-10 , and later paid a visit to the Rousseau Sod Farms on the other side of town.

I'm used to birding now at the Gilbert Water Ranch and the Desert Botanical gardens, places where the birds are somewhat acclimated to constant foot-traffic. This is not the case outside of the city, where the birds are wild and the people are rare. It's difficult at times to get close enough to use your binoculars, and harder still to get good pictures. It has been an exciting, if poorly documented series of sightings, and the challenge has helped shake me out of that complacent urban birding mentality.

The first hour or so of birding at the thrasher spot was pretty fruitless, but finally this Bendire's got things going. The speckled breast along with the shorter beak make for a pretty straight-forward identification. Little did we know at the time that this was the best look any Thrasher would give us.

We chased this Crissal Thrasher, named for its rusty rump, a long way down an old river wash. In a way it was good that I only ever really saw this bird's backside--that's his most tell-tail feature--and after a while he alighted to some higher scrub where he briefly paused to sing before vanishing.

We ran into another birder who had come all the way out from Maryland (in Phoenix for business), and who had made the drive out solely to see a Le Conte's Thrasher. Pops and I had a brief but satisfactory look at the bird, with the buffy breast and dark eye again making for an easy identification, before it too disappeared into the scrubby undergrowth. I hope it resurfaced later for the far-travelling gentleman.

We were also hoping to see some Sage Sparrows, and they finally obliged us as we were about ready to head out. They kept their distance, a little bit to my disappointment, but even from far away we could admire their silver and white heads, as if they were named sage for their wisdom, instead of their choice in habitat.

The drive out and back had it's own fun sightings, including a Mountain Bluebird, a White-Faced Ibis (new bird!), and plenty of Meadowlarks among the agriculture. We were also able to pull over and get some nice views of this Long-Billed Dowitcher before finally committing to the highway and heading back into the city. The three Thrashers, Sage Sparrows, and Ibis added 5 new birds to the List, and made for a great half-day of birding.

We decided to next check out the Rousseau Sod Farms east of Phoenix, in essence scouting out the fields and canals in search of plains-dwelling birds such as Longspurs and raptors. While the Longspurs never showed, we continued to find new species and got some great looks at Northern Harriers, a Sharp-Shinned Hawk, Kinglets, Savannah Sparrows, and Blackbirds.

By funny coincidence, the Kinglets were the best photographic subjects of the day (usually they're the bane of cameras). I'm still falling short of getting a good look at that ruby crown, but they're such darn perky birds it's inevitable that they lifts one's spirits, even if you're already having a great day!

Here's to great birding in 2012!

Wednesdays with Audubon, Chapter 6

Hello Readers,

Unfortunately, I won't have the time this evening to do the full and proper weekly installment of Wednesdays with Audubon, but I'll here submit a quick preview of the coming section all the same.

When we left Audubon last week, he had finally found that wonderful combination of financial stability and vocational reward in his ornithological publishing. Needless to say, it came when he was able to involve all of the talents and dedication of his entire family, instead of trying to manage it all on his own.

It had been a long but fulfilling struggle for the Audubons, and with his new professional establishment, Audubon was able to buy property in New York and set up the permanent Audubon home, where many the grandchild would be born and raised.

Like many men of his age (meaning the 1840s, not his actual age as he was now nearing 70), Audubon became increasingly intrigued by the allure of the West, and his wanderlust drew him towards a great expedition in Missouri, knowing full-well it would be the last adventure he could manage.

Audubon, age 69, shortly before his departure

Leaving his sons to continue supervising the new editions of his books, Audubon set out in April of 1843 towards St. Louis. The voyage began in poor circumstance, with Audubon chartering passage on a rickety steamship down the Mississippi. The unsavory conditions grated on Audubon's nerves, but that was not the worst of it.

The steamship struck a sawyer (a fallen tree whose root end is facing the bottom of the river, causing it to sway against the current), and for a moment it seemed like all might be lost:
"The ladies screamed, the babies squalled, the dogs yelled, the steam roared, the captain swore--not like an angel, but like the very devil--and all was confusion and uproar. Luckily, we had had our supper, as the thing was called on board the Gallant, and every man appeared to feel resolute, if not resolved to die..."

Rare Rufous Rusty Bird Chasing in Phoenix

Since early December, there had been consistent reports of both a Rufous-Backed Robin and a Rusty Blackbird at the community park out in Anthem, a suburb about 25 miles north of Phoenix proper.
Since one of my new year's resolutions was to take my Life List to 300 species, I finally quit dragging my feet and decided to make the trip. Ordinarily it's not too hard to go chasing after birds and photos, but spending an hour in the car (during rush hour) with the possibility that, not only will might you not find the rare birds, but you might not find any interesting birds at all, is a fair deterrent.

Of course, I should not have worried. Within 10 minutes of arriving at the park I stumbled across the Rufous-Backed Robin. This rare but annual visitor from Mexico lacks the white eye ring of the American Robin, and instead has the rufous coloration, as its name indicates, on its back as well as its belly. The bird stayed low to the ground and was pretty skittish. After a couple shady shots, I was forced to hit it with the soft flash--something I prefer to avoid since I don't know how to use it--and I'm glad I did, as it soon eluded me and disappeared for the rest of the afternoon.

The first shot is without flash. While the rufous back is apparent, there's no light catching in the eye, which gives the bird a bit of a lifeless look. The flash illuminated the eye, but added a lot of haze to the picture and made the whole photo look kind of aged. Notice how the water in the background is now a light sky-blue, which I think has too much of a pastel effect.

I wasn't complaining though! A rare migrant in 10 minutes and definitive photos? I was pretty pleased. However, the Rusty Blackbird was another beast entirely. It's one of the few birds one prefers to see outside of its breeding plumage, as it's otherwise nearly indistinguishable from Brewer's Blackbirds. In essence, I was looking for a female grackle with a shorter tail, and given the large number of grackles and starlings in the area, flying in and out of trees and across the ponds, it was a pretty exhausting hour and a half search. I was about ready to call it quits when, thankfully, the bird finally showed near the water's edge.

The Rufous-Backed Robin must've been telling stories, because Rusty also stayed pretty far away. A rather intense looking bird, the pale eye is probably its most striking feature. The greenish-brown rust extends over the head and onto the torso and the white supercilia make for a pretty easy identification, once you've got it in your sights.

The Rusty Blackbird population has been steadily and significantly declining since the 1970s, though no one seems to be quite sure why. Although they're not too much to look at, it's great to see them while they're still around. Given that these birds are also supposed to spend the winter east of Texas, it's an especially nice find. Thanks to the Arizona Field Ornithologists group for publicizing it.

There  were also Wigeon, Coots, Mallards, and a couple Shovelers in the ponds, as well as Lesser Goldfinches and a surprisingly large amount of Eurasian Collared Doves around the park. While I don't think I'll be returning to Anthem, it was a really nice park and I'm grateful to add two cool new birds to my List so early in the year.

This may be my first official chase as a birder--driving a considerable distance to specifically find one or two species--and it was a great success.

First Birds of 2012

It was a great Christmas Break in New Hampshire, and happy new year too. Alas, I did not see the Snowy Owls or Buntings I was faintly hoping for, but the trip had its share of good birding nonetheless.

It's nice to be back in Arizona, where the temperatures are hanging in the 50s and the birds haven't fled south. Technically, my first bird of the new year was a Great-Tailed Grackle outside of the Phoenix airport. This sighting was then followed up with Starlings, Pigeons, and Mourning Doves on the ride home (I know I know, pretty prodigious stuff). I decided to improve on this start and squeeze in some early birding this morning, before all of the unpacking and cleaning must take effect. It was a brief but dazzling little excursion, and I was delighted to get some more colorful birds and photos to start this new year off properly.

I missed these guys.

I made the short trip down to Encanto Park to see if the Lewis's Woodpecker was still hanging around. He was indeed, and there were also Kinglets, Lovebirds, Flycatchers, Hummingbirds, and some frisky ducks all enjoying the mild weather.
This curious Lewis's Woodpecker, who now seems to definitely be planning a winter-length stay in central Phoenix, is just as skittish as he was last month. However, he has a pretty regular pattern that he flies between a few palm trees and the Encanto oaks. If you can get in the right position, with the sun in your favor, you can get some decent looks before the jig's up and he takes off.

He was still busily gathering and stashing acorns in the palm trees, just barely keeping ahead of the Starlings and Thrashers that were always lurking and poaching nearby. He found enough time in his routine for a brief stretch and a scratch before continuing with his winter preparations.

Watching him scratch away made me start to feel itchy, and I have to admit I inadvertently began scratching my neck too, though I didn't use my foot. I wonder. If a bird yawns, would it make a person yawn as well?

Although he is definitely the most unusual and probably the most colorful bird to be found at Encanto, the Lewis's Woodpecker was not the only highlight. This American Kestrel stopped by for some breakfast. He perched oddly close to a Mockingbird, who also didn't seem to mind. Usually the Mockers squawk and carry on and on until the raptors leave. Perhaps they made a new year's resolution to get along with each other.

Kestrel's are very pretty birds. I wish I had gotten these berries in good focus--aperture too low--it would've made for a nice picture. Unfortunately the bird bolted before I could re-adjust.

There is another solitary and recognizable resident along the oak-side Encanto pond. This Black Phoebe has been hanging out in the same spot since August. And really, why should he move?

One of my resolutions was to bring my Life List total to 300 this year. While I didn't see any new species today, it was a great way to begin a new year of beautiful birding.

Wednesdays with Audubon, Chapter 5

--Sorry to be getting this in late. I was without internet the last couple days, but hopefully things will get back on track. Last week Audubon had just returned from his work to reunite with Lucy Audubon after nearly a 5 year absence. While renown and respect for his work was beginning to grow, the money still wasn't coming in, but at least the Audubons were together.

While J.J. and Lucy were back together, his work was not yet done. He returned to England and then Scotland, this time with Lucy and his sons, John and Victor. While Audubon worked to promote his books, both those that were printed and the upcoming editions, his sons focussed on publishing and copying, while his wife dazzled their English friends with her wit and charm. It became apparent to both Audubon and those around him that he was still missing a real scientist in his undertaking. As he confidently notes: "I am now aware that no man living better knows the habits of our (North American) birds...I cannot however scribble tolerable english letters, and I cannot give scientific descriptions, so here I required assistance."

J.J. Audubon had more direct experience and field-time than any other ornithologist working in North America, but if his work was to be more successful and acceptable to those with strict scientific and terminological sensibilities, he would need a technical assistant. His first choice was Mr. William Swainson, but since Swainson was unavailable, Audubon went with the recommendation of Mr. James Wilson and set up a partnership with Mr. William MacGillivray. Again, it's impressive to see the names of Audubon's associates. There's not a man without at least one bird to his namesake. MacGillivray was very diligent, and with his technical focus Audubon's work gained strict scientific analysis to go along with Audubon's excellent, more personal accounts of each bird.

The Audubons returned to the U.S. in 1831, and J.J. immediately set out on a brief trip to Florida. On the way, he forged a friendship with Rev. John Bachman, a birding enthusiast and kindred spirit with Audubon. J.J. collected a few new species in Florida, and then promptly moved his family in the opposite direction, taking them up to Maine in 1832. At this point, his sons John and Victor returned to England to supervise his publishing, and Audubon hired on some help and set out on a treacherous journey to the Labrador Islands of Newfoundland, where he found and collected 73 new species. Unfortunately, many of Audubon's older notes, journals, and samples were destroyed in the New York fire of 1835, but his work had now gained enough support and momentum that it was moving along almost with a mind of its own.

His son John married Maria, Rev. Bachman's oldest daughter. The first Audubon grandchild, Lucy, was born in 1837, shortly before the latests and most extensive edition of Audubon's ornithologies was published in 1838. The Audubons now had enough money and established credit for J.J. to buy his beloved "Minniesland" (minnie being a scottish term for mother/wife) outside of New York City. The piece of land is today preserved and known as Audubon Park, and during the mid 19th century 11 of the 14 Audubon grandchildren were born there.

While Audubon does not directly comment on his change of fortune, I think it is very interesting that his success and comfort dramatically improved as he involved more and more of his family in his work. His early excursions were done in solitude, in part because his sons were still young and Lucy had to care for them. But during those early days, Audubon lost a lot of money and had a more difficult time establishing himself in the ornithological world. While reading Audubon's accounts, I often wondered at his frequent absences from his wife and children. Was it just an understood and necessary part of a young man's work in the early 19th century, or was he a little bit inconsiderate? At any rate, it certainly seems that when Audubon's family was able to help him more directly, his work became increasingly successful. In my limited experiences, I've always found birding to be much more enjoyable when I can share it with friends and family. While at times I recognize and sympathize with Audubon's yearning for the open country, for the secluded beauty of nature, it's always better with company.

Birding Fun in New Hampshire

The sun is up, the snow is starting to melt, and the birds are coming out here in New Hampshire. The first and most flamboyant representative of the avian world was this Black-Capped Chickadee. These handsome and chubby little birds are very curious, and while they can get bossed around by the Blue Jays, I still deem them to be the mascots of the wintery forest.

To my surprise, there was also a strong presence of American Gold Finches around Granite Lake. Since I've been rather spoiled with my Goldfinches, and seen either the non-molting finches in Phoenix or the American Goldfinches in Iowa during the Summer, this was my first sighting of the Goldfinches in their winter eclipse plumage. It's not quite a match for the dandelion yellow they display in the warmer months, but it was still neat to see.

Another unexpected sighting was this little Brown Creeper. Although Creepers are not rare, it's always a bit of a surprise to see them simply because they're small, camouflaged, quiet, and solitary. They range over the entire U.S. and don't mind the winter cold, but given their diminutive behavior, it's just one of those birds you seldom plan on seeing or anticipate like you might with some of the louder or more gregarious woodland birds.

They cling tight and close to the tree trunks, running (creeping) up and down and upside down, gleaning insects and whatever else they find with their decurved beaks.

The White-Breasted Nuthatch is another guaranteed sighting in the winter months. It behaves much like the Creeper, but with its black cap, white undersides, and larger size, it's much more conspicuous. 

Birding in this true winter setting, in these frosted woods, is much different from birding in the Arizona chaparral. Everything is much slower, much quieter, much more determined, and very placid. It's chilly and peaceful, with these little birds providing the only flashes of color and movement apart from the falling leaves and dripping snow.