Chirps and Trills and Mountain Top Thrills

The early spring Gray Vireo photo hunt goes on, and may at this point just be postponed for a couple of weeks. But in contrast to this apparently defeatist admission, this weekend saw some fantastic birding with plenty of migrants and early-arriving spring/summer breeders moving through Mt. Ord. 

This is no ordinary site, after all, being the highest point in Maricopa County. The mid-level scrub and chaparral hosts plenty of Sparrows and what not, (and will soon host the GRVI in numbers even I can find), while the higher pines and oak entertain plenty of warblers, thrushes, and woodpeckers, lending a fantastic splash of color after a somewhat dreary March. 

I set out to Ord this weekend with Pops, planning on a quick look for any GRVIs and then a more thorough exploration of Forest Road 1688 and the summit. Of course, there were no GRVIs on the corral trail halfway up the mountain, but the Black-chinned Sparrows were singing in force.

We took the corral trail laterally along the mountain for about a mile, waiting both with dim hope for a Vireo call and also for the morning overcast to burn off. Chipping, White-crowned, Black-throated, Black-Chinned, Brewers, Rufous-crowned and Vesper Sparrows all made appearances or vocalizations at different points on this hike, and of course this sum total of emberizids was outnumbered by the all-conquering Spotted Towhees. The oddest sighting at this stage, though not exactly the most exciting, was a young Mockingbird that Pops picked out from its little perch just on the ridge. I'm not sure of the elevation here, maybe 3,000 feet or a bit under. At any rate, this is the highest point at which I've seen a Mockingbird. I don't know if that makes me weird or the bird weird. It certainly looked out of place, but then again I probably did too.

With the sun was still taking its sweet time to clear the Mazatzal ridge, we parked near the FR 1688 trail and were immediately greeted by the calls of Black-throated Gray Warblers as they staked out territory. Some of them were very determined, even menacing, with their sentry-duty.

The lower oaks were also inhabited by Kinglets and Scrub Jays, and of course Towhees, but the BTGRs were the most vocal bird as we started the gradual climb up FR 1688.

After a quarter mile or so and the first bout of ponderosa pine, FR 1688 opens up to a view of the west valley and also a steep slope covered in desert holly, scrub oak, and all kinds of other un-cuddly plants. Although we could still heard the BTGRs calling behind us, the dominant noise and motions now came from Blue-gray Gnatcatchers.

These birds were absurdly loud and active on the open, sunny stretches of FR 1688, and we actually continued to see them throughout the rest of the hike, even as we gained another 1,000 feet. No exaggeration, we even had them in the ponderosa occasionally, nearer the false peak where FR 1688 terminates. Gnatcatchers in pines...that's only supposed to happen in Florida. Even the boisterous Scrub Jays seemed taken aback by the Gnatcatcher industriousness.

Our forest road meander turned up Hairy Woodpeckers and Hutton's Vireos, along with a couple fly-by Rufous Hummingbirds and a plethora of Bewick's Wrens. We had no luck in the long-shot Pygmy Owls, but as we neared the end of the FR, where the trail terminated into stickery thorny things and a slope up to more oaks and a few mulberry-type trees we picked up renewed activity.
Fly-over Zone-tailed Hawk and Golden Eagle always give one a little rush, and the adrenaline continued as we picked up our first Redstart of the day, a preposterously good-looking bird. After continuing to scan through the mixed flocks and canopy movement--which turned up handsome Mountain Chickadees and Bridled Titmice--we saw something even more exciting.



What's more exciting than a Painted Redstart? Well, an FOY little gray bird with a yellow butt. We heard a Virginia's Warbler call once and had to do quite a bit of chasing and triangulating amid the steep terrain, loose rocks, and abrasive, shin-slashing vegetation, but finally we were able to pin this pesky little bird down, a photo-first for myself and a lifer for Pops.
Got the call, got the sighting, got the shot. Who needs eastern wood warblers (me actually, please)?

About half-way up the FR 1688 trail there's a turn off into the ponderosa, marked by a semi-permanent campfire circle. There's a game trail here that runs more or less parallel to the forest road but takes the birder through thicker pines and better birding, if one has already maxed out on the mountain side scrub-dwellers, which we had, or wants to escape the chronic, debilitating chattering of Bewick's Wrens, which we did. There were no Hermit Warblers but Hermit Thrushes and Western Bluebirds, along with Red and White-breasted Nuthatches continued the list-pumping.



After 400 yards or so the game trail dumps out around some water basins and an old cattle fence, and here a couple of sycamores, oaks, and other greenery provide exceptionally drawing habitat for the mountain birdies. We had two or three more Redstarts that were happily vocalizing when not busy naval-gazing...

...and an equally vocal Grace's Warbler, which we first picked out by its song and then picked out from its ponderous perch. This was another target warbler for our trek and a solid lifer for Pops. The Grace's is basically a slightly less cool Yellow-throated Warbler, but it's birds like these that will keep us Maricopians from unhealthily envying our eastern birder counterparts too much in the next couple of months.

This Grace's contributed to the overall Call of the Wild and its timing was impeccable, coincidental, or maybe even causal. Many people keep a list of bird's they've seen exercising their excretory systems. I keep the inverse, and if I may list boast for a moment I've got Vermilion Flycatcher, Gray Hawk, Elegant Trogon, Northern-beardless Tyrannulet, and now Grace's Warbler on mine (and in case your wondering, wetting one's pants at the sight of an awesome bird does not count, that'd be too easy!).

After attending our own respective calls, Pops and I made our way back to the car and finished the increasingly bumpy, treacherous drive to the summit of the Mt. Ord. 

The accessible road terminates maybe 3/4 of a mile from the ranger station and radio towers at the top, but while the gated road prevents vehicular progress, birders can happily progress continue along the road and without fear of hairpin traffic. Mt. Ord's summit provides lodging to hundreds of Violet-green Swallows, which are both beautiful and unusually prone to landing/perching as far as Swallows go. Later in the year this area is also fantastic for Hepatic and Western Tanager, and also for getting mutations from being too close to illegally high radio wave emissions.

Props to the Violet-green Swallow for being the only Swallow, other than Purple Martin, named for its physical characteristics and not where it typically lives (how would we like it if we were all named Home Body or Suburb So-and-So?).



While I was messing around with the Swallows and Dark-eyed Juncos along the road, Pops called out my favorite sighting of the day. Grayish body with some dull yellow on the wings, olivey-orange head...I think...I think...oh yeah!

Olive Warbler!!! This is just a fantastic bird, and one that we Arizonans must cherish. East of the Mississippi right now, there are probably dozens of face-melted birders recording 30+ warbler days, but none of them can also lay claim to this beauty. Alright so maybe I'm over-playing it and this bird isn't even in full plumage yet, plus it was shaded, but I still was pretty stoked. It had been far too long since laying eyes on this Peucedramid.

We were also treated to better looks at Grace's Warbler along the service road, which provides somewhat eye-level views of the ponderosa canopies growing adjacently downhill. The Amazing Grace's was joined by plenty for Black-throated Grays and some Bushtits.



As we beheld distant Roosevelt Lake from our 7,000 foot pedestal, we felt the warm fuzzy feeling that can only be kindled with a fantastic morning's birding. Such a glowing sense of accomplishment and success can only be improved upon with cold beer. And it was.

Birds and Blooms and Birds on Blooms

Even though we had no winter this year (temps in the 80s through February), it's clearly spring time. This is not something I can tell from the position of the sun in the sky nor exclusively from the fact that now driving to work is no longer done in the dark, with with the sun directly in my eyes (not sure which is better). Everything is starting to bloom now, and even in a place not necessarily known for its colorful fauna, that indicator holds true in Phoenix just as well as anywhere else. The mesquites and palo verde are bursting with their dainty yellow flowers, while all the century plant and aloe groups are shooting up stalks (those that flower annually) with a quaint resemblance to tiny bananas. 

The cactus are all getting their bloom on as well, much to the delight of everything that eats them.

The ground has finally thawed enough that rodents are exiting their winter hibernation and shedding their thick winter coats, changing from their white robes into more appropriate desert brown.

Another strong indicator is that all the Phoenix residents are nesting. Hummingbirds are courting, Mourning Doves, Curve-billed Thrashers, and Cactus Wrens all have raucous chicks in their prickly fortresses, and Abert's Towhee juveniles are already bumbling around, bad at everything.
Despite all that change and twitterpation, some species re carrying on much the same as they always have. Verdin are constantly foraging and building nests, which they seems to do through winter, spring, summer, and sometimes fall just to be sure. There is no big they won't chase and no position too awkward for them to hold in their pursuit.



While the eastern half of the nation mobilizes with its 'nocs and Bengay for some outrageous Warbler migrations, Phoenicians will have to content themselves with Verdin antics and the occasional Townsend's or Hermit interloper. Yeah there are Orange-crowns too but who cares, and has anyone ever actually seen a MacGillivray's?

Anyway, it's a good time to be in the valley, even if we're relatively less spoiled for the birdies right now. Besides, I'm still on Gray Vireo detail this weekend. Warblers can wait.

P.S. Check, out how many bugs are on this plant. In addition to the Verdin's overflowing maw, there are ants and gnats all over the upper stems. Tis' bountiful.

Looking for Cliffs under the AZ Falls

It had been a few weeks since visiting my cozy little work patch, so this past week I returned with a specific goal in mind. Having scoped out most of the likely species for this little site, last time here I made specific and successful efforts for Red-naped Sapsucker. This time around I was pursuing a more mobile quarry. I had a single Cliff Swallow back in February, flying around where the canal falls drop down several dozen feet to continue on their westward course. This was a very early sighting for Swallows, and I didn't see that bird upon further visits but it keyed me in to the possibility that in a month or two, they might take up nesting under the Arizona Falls Bridge. Cliff Swallows nest colonially under bridges near water, and are in that sense predictable to find. However, these elevated colonies and the subsequent shade that comes with them means that photographing these birds satisfactorily is a challenge.

Best of all, trying to find the Cliff Swallows at AZ Falls would let me revisit my favorite sign/water fountain placement situation maybe ever.

All of the winterfowl, even the Ring-necked Ducks, in this strip of water are gone, but Cormorant numbers were up. They're mostly Neotropics, but Rhinoceros Cormorant (front) and Headless Cormorant (back) also turn up this time of year. 

The main advantage vis-a-vis Swallowing is that the AZ Falls has a walkway and adjacent slope right next to the elevated plane at which the Swallows are building their muddy manors. This means that without rope ladders or cherry-picker trucks, eye-level viewing is somewhat possible.

With a small amount of trepidation and a certain amount of balance and control, positioning oneself on the dirt and cement slope seen on the left of the picture above allows for fantastic, eye-level views of the busy birds, even if the problem of photographing in the shade can't entirely be avoided.

And as for the Swallows themselves...they couldn't care less. Joggers and cyclists are often passing by on the walkway above their nesting site, and my increased attention did not deter them in any way. Clinging to vertical walls and building a house entirely out of mud and spit requires plenty of concentration, and worrying about the clearly out-of-its-element biped nearby is not high on their priority list.

It was a real treat to watch them working up close. One Swallow would often stay in the nest, molding  the inside no doubt and handling the decoration.  It would then emerge, apparently, to give direction to its partner, who would make the frequent trips down to collect more mud. Have we not all experienced this dynamic, in some sense or another, on a moving day?

And as a further point of relating and sympathizing, Swallows seem to lose patience too during these onerous exercises. Or maybe Cliffs just have a grumpier disposition than cavity-nesting Violet Greens, who find most of their domestic organizing done for them.  

It is interesting also to observe these groups of swallows and compare them to other colony birds. European Starling flocks and Blackbirds fly together and seem similarly sociable, but with the impressive Starling flocks, a sort of a common collective mind seems to pervade the group's movements (even though this likely isn't the case, they just operate, necessarily, under stricter rules that come with being in a larger group). With the gregarious Cliff Swallows, the community is central to everything the birds do--there are seldom any outliers or loners, any separate nests or pariahs. These Swallows are even known to move their eggs from one nest to another if a clutch fails or its own nest is deemed inadequate. 

Swallow crushing is not the easiest of pursuits, but if you can't bring Mohammed to the mountain...then find a way to get up the side of the mountain, lean over some railing, get a bit dusty, and take a few pictures. Everybody's happy.

Some Crazy and Some Classic: Silly Good Birding in Tubac and Madera

These past several weeks have seen some great birding among the familiar haunts and with the more familiar species of central Arizona. But as with any family or high school buddies reunion, one can only tolerate the familiarity, the repetition, the redundant stories for so long before needing to break free and explore new places and relationships again. 

Luckily, exploring is pretty easy now with Federal and State highways. Even more luckily, simply taking the I-10 to the I-19 south, by the Santa Rita Mountains and Tubac, will lead to some absurdly good birding. 

I met up with Phoenix and ABA birding guru Magill Weber before driving down to join forces with perhaps Canada's most accomplished inked naturalist, Paul Riss, to scrutinize some fantastic spots off the I-19 in southeastern AZ. As March has gone the way of February and the Arizona winter that never was, we had our hopes set on some precocious migrants and one home-steading vagrant.

After rendezvousing at a shady Fry's Grocery store at 5:00am to buy supplies, drugs, etc. and consolidate vehicles, we quickly made the drive farther south and arrived near Ron Morrison Park in Tubac just after sunrise. Our first bird contact, apart from the obligatory roadside RTHA and CORA, was a vocal Cassin's Kingbird and some Vermilion Flycatchers (you know you're in a great spot when these are you first birds) and soon after an obliging male Broad-billed Hummingbird. 

Somewhat unexpectedly, this turned out to be the most prominent bird throughout the day. While walking through the mesquite bosque portion of the De Anza Trail, and even after in Madera Canyon, we were positively swamped with Broad-bills. We had four dozen of them recorded within two hours, and pretty much stopped counting after that. They were everywhere and it was scary, scary cool and scary regular scary like you're in danger scary. I've never seen so many Hummingbirds of a single species, or even mixed together.  

As we started our early walk along the De Anza trail--a picturesque riparian channel accompanying the Santa Cruz "river--we kept ears and eyes and potatoes peeled for some of our early migrant targets. Gray, Common Black, and Zone-tailed Hawks were all moving along the corridor. Gray Hawks were vocal very early on but it was the Common Black that we first saw rise above the tree line, followed not long after by a Zone-tailed blending into a Vulture kettle. The Gray Hawks called continuously and in pairs throughout the morning, but frustrated our attempts to locate them through the canopy.

We continued to marvel at the masses and movement of the Broad-billed Hummingbirds along the bosque and finally arrived at a cut away in the dense undergrowth near the creek. Here, past a barbed wire fence and nestled into some intimidatingly thick riparian hedges, we began a stake out for the 'crazy' portion of our trip.
An ABA Code 5 Sinaloa Wren had been seen and heard in this area for several months now, one of TWO such birds to be nesting in southeast Arizona this year. The other bird, which was actually more readily visible, was by Fort Huachuca farther east.

While we waited, Bell's Vireos maintained a steady chorus in the background as we picked up Cassin's and Warbling in the overhead foliage. Kinglets caused constant distraction with their clicks and movements while rustling Song Sparrows further complicated our task. After about fifteen minutes we caught a flash of something promising.
A small Wren with bold white supercilium and chestnut brown tail made a quick foray from the brush but disappeared without diagnostic views. We were all pretty confident in the ID, the white supercilium and long tail ruling out House Wren while the darker brown on the tail ruled out Bewick's, but one doesn't scan a Code 5 so quickly and walk away.



Except that is actually what we did. Figuring the bird would pop up again later in the morning and feeling a pressing need to better explore the riparian corridor, we ambled onward. We were vindicated in our judgment as it was during the second portion of the trek that we got visuals on our migrant hawks and even the elusive Grays, which were most likely not migrating so much as staking out territory.

We had a few other nice sightings along the second portion of the De Anza trail as well. First of Year Pac-Slope Flycatcher, Chihuahuan Raven, and, of course, 9,743 Broad-billed Hummingbirds added to the ensemble. The Bewick's Wrens, often a source of audio birding frustration, were also in fine form.

After securing our Hawks and satisfying the birder's need to walk and spy, we returned to the Sinaloa Wren stake out where three gentlemen who were occupying the post with us earlier proudly proclaimed we had missed the bird by mere minutes--perhaps vindicating their own resilience in not being hot-tempered, impatient birders. Whatever the case, we settled in again and weathered some birder small talk until, mercifully soon, Paul spotted the bird reemerging from its tangle.

Maybe we got super lucky...or maybe we played our hand just right, balancing the odds of this bird's reappearance with our other Tubac targets. At any rate, we got solid looks at the Sinaloa Wren this time around and were also treated to its diagnostic ratchet-call.

Of course, for super chill birders, finding a Code 5 in twenty total minutes of looking, after racking up a bunch of other stuff, is pretty blasé. We played it cool, cool like an arctic-dwelling paulriss...

Magill and I had to be back in Phoenix by evening so we could only bird until 2pm or so. Since Paul had not birded in the area before, we figured that Madera Canyon, farther north up the I-19, would be a great spot to continue racking up the lifers and put us all closer to our return destinations.

Heading up Whitehouse Canyon Road, the perfunctory stop at Proctor was initially disappointing. We added Hutton's Vireo and Phainopepla, as well as Mexican Jay and Black-tailed Gnatcatcher to the list, but found the area to be relatively dead overall. In smart response to the rising sun and temperatures, many of the birds were restricting their movements and visibility.



While giving a few noisy Jays our attention, a colorful surprise (given the elevation) flew into the white oak, giving Paul another gorgeous lifer for the trip. Painted Redstarts really are breathtaking birds, face-melters on a high level of the face-melting hierarchy.

We continued to gain elevation, overwhelmed at times with the many picnickers and hikers moving up and down the canyon. We stopped by the Santa Rita Lodge and Madera Kubo to scan the feeders, picking up some really ratty-looking immature Magnificent Hummingbirds and nest-building Acorn Woodpeckers before heading further up to the Carrie Nation Trail in search of AZ Woodpecker and Olive Warbler. 

 

At this point the time had ticked well-past high noon and overall activity was dying down, but a very unexpected sighting quickly galvanized the group. While discussing the interesting peculiarities of a large sycamore tree, we observed a young but fully plumed male Elegant Trogon perched in a large alligator juniper tree nearby. This sighting occurred about a 1/2 mile up the Carrie Nation Trail, near the first stream/wash crossing. Both parties stared back and forth, the bird no doubt less gobsmacked with us than we were with it, and after a couple of minutes it departed further down the trail.

Any Trogon sighting will make one's day, and this bird is pretty early for Madera, so with it being a totally unexpected sighting, a Year Bird for Magill and myself and a stunning lifer for Paul, it was a highlight almost equal to the comparably drab Sinaloa Wren.
Understandably for anyone seeing their first Elegant Trogon, the Madera Canyon classic, a single, perfect tear rolled down Paul's cheek. We've all been there, or at least wanted to be.

We never did turn up Olive Warbler or AZ Woodpecker, but another stop by the Madera Kubo and a scan of its surrounding sycamore trees produced no less than seven Townsend's Warblers, and we were able to pick up a few more species for the day list, such as an oddly lacking House Wren and Rufous-crowned Sparrow. Can you find him below?

Phoenix birding has been largely successful and very enjoyable this winter, but even so it can't really compare to the density of fantastic birding down south. As we walked back to the car and continued chatting up different hotspots for Paul to visit while staying in the area, I was struck with regret at having to depart after so brief a foray. So many sites with so many sights...birding down there is just silly good.

Superior Birding: Oak Flats

What's that they say, without ups and downs in life, you're dead? Well, sometimes Flat or Flats is good, especially if the Flats are covered in oak scrub. 

Superior, AZ, located about an hour east of Phoenix on the Hwy 60, is well known for its gorgeous, oaken canyons and the Boyce Thompson Arboretum, the site of many an exciting avian and botanical find. A little farther east the mountains are broken down into boulder and oak-strewn foothills where campers, off-road vehicle enthusiasts, and naturalists can all find plenty to do, if not necessarily all at the same time...

In many ways this habitat is similar to that recently visited near Prescott and also leading up to Mt. Ord in east Maricopa. As far as AZ habitats go, it's a favorite of mine for several reasons. It's relatively lush (not as hot/desiccated as Sonoran Desert stuff), it's cooler in temperature, and the scrub oak and manzanita, which make up the bulk of the vegetation, don't get to be very tall, so this allows for much better looks at and photos of birds that might otherwise be high canopy dwellers.
Case in point, I was unable to get a good photo of this skittish Scrub Jay not because it was high in a ponderosa or something, but because it was just too wise to let me get near. Oak Flats...err hem...levels the playing field.



Jays are a funny bird. Generally speaking they're pretty wary of people and always have sentries on the look out, but in certain areas where they're used to us hominids they're incredibly resourceful and comfortable (the head-perching Florida Scrub Jays coming quickly to mind).
Ash-throated Flycatchers, on the other hand, are loud, lovely, conspicuous, and usually pretty accomodating. They're common, but I like these birds quite a bit, and miss them during the winter.

My target bird for the Oak Flats, one seen and photographed very well only a couple of weeks before by Gordon "Wizard Staff" Karre. This little butt of a bird has been a photo-nemesis for me for some time now. It's still early in the year and their numbers will grow in these areas, but there will also be bigger game to chase in later April and May, so taking care of business here in relatively slower March would have been most efficacious to efficient birding. It's tougher to make the early morning call to spend one's Saturday chasing GRVIs in May, when they're easier, when there's better all-round birding to be had elsewhere.
It's not glamorous, but going Gray Vireo hunting does have a positive externality in that they inhabit the same scrubby stuff as many the beloved emberizid, so the backdrop to this search would be continued sparrow-crushing.

Black-chinned...black-eye, black-and-blue after such crushing...These birds have a great call too, one that rings through the scrubby hillsides this time of year.

The scrub oak habitat is not just a favorite of mine and the Black-chins; it's also populated with many other vocal species. Early morning in March is a truly symphonic time, or maybe cacophonous...anyway it's great practice for audio birding, a serious weakness of my birding repertoire.

Bewick's Wrens are among the loudest and most persistent chatterbugs. They also have a myriad of calls, both those immediately recognizable to the species and all kinds of other half-assed chips and chirps and even some imitations of other birds. They're terrible gossips. 

Townsend's Soliatire's, by contrast, are not very vocal, but are not above messianic posing atop their perches. Townsend's Redeemer wouldn't be a bad sobriquet for this fellow. Another couple of weeks and the Solitaire's will be clearing out of the oak/juniper scrub and heading back to higher elevations.

 

Naturally, scraggily perches and their panoramic vantage points attract more than Solitaires and ASFLs. Vermilion Flycatchers (in this case, female) and the tragically bland (when perched near VEFLs) Say's Phoebe's meticulously watch from the surrounding scraggily stuff.

Male Vermilions are staking out territory now and pairing up. I was able to witness and snap a couple blurry shots of this guy's distended belly territorial/impress-the-ladies display. It was pretty good.

After a couple hours' searching and listening, and even helping some campers find their lost kid, the birding gods still withheld the Gray Vireo photo op from me. As the sun rose higher in the sky while simultaneously chased by ever-encroaching clouds, I had the option of continuing the thus far fruitless pursuit or pushing out into other habitat that would hold new birds for the day but no GRVIs. 

The enchanting calls of Black-throated Sparrows and their face-melting handsomeness, as always, was far too much for me to resist. Have I gushed enough about how good-looking this bird is in recent weeks? It's the Derek Zoolander of Sparrows.
Old Legend has it that one of the Medici Popes commissioned Michelangelo to try and paint this bird and he refused, saying he could not complete the task satisfactorily and it would be sacrilege even to try (lucky we have cameras now and mustn't resort to impression).

I want to consume them...take their gorgeousness into me. Don't pretend like you other weirdos out there haven't thought this way too about handsome birds, people, etc...

You know that feeling you get about two and a half hours into a chase when your morale drops to thinking that your sighting just isn't gonna happen? We've all hit that nadir, when things start to get more quiet, when birds aren't calling much any more. 

It's that time when one has to bring in the contingency plan, which in this case was another little gray bird, one I'd seen only a few weeks before but also never photographed. 

Of course, I didn't see or hear any Juniper Titmice when patrolling the juniper bushes for Vireos and Solitaires. No no, I found the shy little bugger in an oak tree. See, Plain Titmouse, this is why people just don't know what to do with you! If you're named for a tree, you better stick to that tree, and not the one your otherwise identical cousin is named for!
Without knowledge of where this bird was seen, could it be anything other than Oak Titmouse? Life is confusing, and full of disappointment, and exaggeration, and lists, and run-on sentences.

The Titmouse was happily inhabiting the understory of the oak tree while other little gray birds chittered up top. Bushtits are another new species to grace the pages of Butler's Birds, a common enough sight and sound once you gain a couple thousands feet, but not so commonly photogenic. 

Oak Flats is popular not just for its oaks but for its flats, making it a great camping and go-karting spot. A bit further away from this heavily foot-printed site the landscape gets very bizarre and equally cool.  The heavily weathered rock piles look almost otherworldly, an aesthetic enhanced by the near-silence broken only by one's echoing footsteps. 

A bit southwest from the Oak Flats site is a little pond--I'll call it Magma Shaft Pond, after the nearby road. The water feature was itself unimpressive though a pleasant discovery, but it allowed me to add Redhead, Ring-necked Duck, American Coot, and Wilson's Snipe to my Pinal County list.

The Gray Vireo still needs crushing, but Oak Flats is a fabulous spot, one of my favorites within an hour or so of Phoenix, and it's definitely one I'd recommend to anyone in the area, especially if looking for scrub species. Combining a trip back here in a month for GRVIs and then spending time at the Boyce Thompson would be the way to go. Stay tuned!