Day 11: June 24 - Mountain Tops and Desert Bottoms

Sunrise found us walking the campground in hopes of securing the still-needed Buff-breasted Flycatcher.  The walk of a few hundred yards to the Amphitheatre turned up nothing.  With spirits sinking, we hiked back to the car to munch Pop-tarts and juice for the hike to other campground locations where the bird had been reported.  With my head buried in the backseat looking for chow, a peculiar “chee-lick” was coming from the trees overhead.  For the next few minutes, we enjoyed fair looks as a Buff-breasted Flycatcher (Life Bird #662) zipped from tree to tree. At times, it was not one hundred feet from the tent.  Odd. 

Still needing Mountain Chickadee for Natalie, we returned to the summit.  Hiking a different trail versus the night before, within ten minutes, the eye-browed little bugger was putting on quite a show! 

Returning to the car (and soaking in the damage and subsequent rejuvenation from the July 2003 Aspen fire that engulfed part of the mountain), we stopped and gawked at the flight of a raven as it approached us.  Not 100 feet away, 8 feet off the ground, and to our left, we realized how big it really was.  In a quick second, we realized ravens don’t have yellow beaks and white stripes on their tail.  The Zone-tailed Hawk maneuvered with ease as it avoided dead trees before it disappeared over the cliff edge. 

I can assure you most birders in the North America who have recorded Zonetails have not had the pleasure of seeing what we saw that morning. Most folks have to study Turkey Vulture kettles and find the bird that is not a vulture; they look very similar.  I would argue that they are so similar that birders have called Turkey Vultures a Zonetail.  Easy to do, I think.  Or maybe the birder hims and haws.  They aren’t always sure. We were.   What a prized sighting.  We never even needed binoculars.  Awesome. 

Retiring from the mountain and hoping to not make arrogant bicyclists hood ornaments, we moved on to the Sonoran Desert Museum on Tucson’s west side.  Meeting Marge again, lunch and walking around the grounds of this outstanding facility made for time well spent.  A trip for a southeast Arizona newbie would not be complete without time here.  If you are going to look for birds in the desert, it just makes sense to understand how deserts function, doesn’t it?

The free-flight hummingbird enclosure is a trip.  I would highly recommend it for photographers.  The little sugar-fueled engines pose quite nicely. In many cases, I needed to back up as my lens was too big!  (Of course, this place would be great for the liars and frauds that infect the birding community.  It would be so easy to take a photo of one of these little gems and claim you took the picture someplace else.  I wonder if that has ever happened? Photographing a captive bird so you can claim it as a wild one? Oh, silly me. Of course it has...)

Right up the road is the west section of the Saguaro National Park.  More deserts. More fascination.  A quick stop at Signal Hill highlighted rock art likely pecked by the Hohokam Indians  (hoho-kum) a thousand years ago.  So cool.  Standing not too far off in the distance was a Harris’s Hawk.  It’s kinda cool to think about the ancestors of the hawk being there watching the Hohokam carve those stones.  Neat.

With the monsoon season approaching, afternoon thunderstorms were becoming more of a threat.  A powerful storm was off to the north and we got the rain.  (But with it comes one of the coolest experiences one can have in the desert – the smell after the rain.  I won’t even try to describe it. You’ll just have to try it for yourself.)  Coming down in sheets, birding, sightseeing and photography became kind of hard. Driving the roads, we started to appreciate some local folklore.

According to the Pima Indians, a grandmother lost her grandchildren.  Versions vary as to how this happened, but in the end, the children began the Saguaro Cactus.  That explains (in their mind, anyhow) how the cactus seems to take on an almost human physique.  With that in mind, I would argue that somewhere out there is a lost pugilist…..

Now, you might be thinking that we had been drinking before our trip to the desert to come up with that silliness. No. That came after….

Fine gourmet pizzas and beer were had at the ThunderCanyon Brewery in Tucson.  Deep Canyon Amber, Thunder Canyon IPA, Sandstone Cream Ale, and Windstorm Wheat (#1,269-1,272) were all average or better.  The IPA was the best of the bunch.  There is just something refreshing about a good IPA when the temperatures are brutal.

After dinner, we motored off to Scottsdale.  The night was spent at Marge and Diana’s house.

Day 10: June 23- A Lemon and A Lemmon

The day’s original plan involved taking two cars birding.  By the day’s end, we would move along while Joe and Corrine would return home.   Sadly, Joe’s situation reversed itself and he was feeling crappy again.  Realizing he needed to take care of himself and house guests can be a drag in times of duress, Natalie and I bid farewell. 

We were off to Montosa Canyon.  Right around the corner from Madera Canyon (it is a part of the same mountain range),  this place has been harboring Black-cappedGnatcatchers and a Plain-capped Starthroat for few days.  Granted, the reports were less than ideal. Folks more familiar with the hummer where getting it but were reporting short observation times (ie: nano-seconds) as it zipped past at light speed.  I guess if you are familiar with the species, that might do.  I wouldn’t know a Plain-capped Starthroat from a baseball-capped ball player, so we were hoping for a solid look.  Reports were mixed with the Gnatcatchers, too.  Some positive. Some not. 

Upon exiting the vehicle at the culvert (the landmark used for days), the wasps moved it.  Big.  And many.  One report suggested a birder was carried away and eaten.  Okay, not really, but they were huge (the wasps, not the birders).  I have been around wasps plenty and they are always distracting, but these were monsters. 

While they showed no signs of aggression, they were certainly inquisitive.  The car. Me. Natalie.  Once they landed on her back, all bets were off.   That now introduced the issue of the accidental sting.  If they land on you, you move to use your binoculars and, for example, the binocular strap pinches them, they will sting. I know. I’ve seen it happen.  Realizing that the risk was there and their abdomen was the size of a baseball bat, it took us less than three minutes to abort the plan.  Really.  Out and back into the car in three minutes.  For these Michiganders, birding under these circumstances was simply impossible.

Starthroats and Gnatcatchers will just have to wait.

Well, as you have probably heard, one should turn lemons into lemonade if life takes a bad turn. In this case, per the plan, we turned lemons into a Lemmon.

Mount Lemmon is found northeast of Tucson.  Driving from Tucson (2,300 feet above sea level) to Lemmon’s peak (9,150 feet above sea level) is the same as driving from Mexico deep into Canada.  As one ascends the mountains, habitats change and therefore, the birds do, too.  Driving the 27-mile Catalina Road to the top is a standard one-day route for birders.

Knowing target birds were high on the mountain, we quickly made our way to Rose Lake Campground.  After securing camp (luckily)and lunch, we birded the campground hoping to find Olive Warbler and Buff-breasted Flycatcher.  After about 2 hours, we concluded all specimens of both species had been sucked into Mitt Romney’s skull (otherwise known as a vacuum). The Buffys were breeding near the amphitheatre and we still couldn’t find them!  Damn it!

By 3:15pm, Natalie’s aunt Marge, a birder, had joined us.  (Marge’s partner, Diana, couldn’t make it.)   Driving down from Scottsdale for an afternoon of fun, we proceeded to gain altitude.  The thought was that the afternoon heat was silencing the birds again.  With cooler temps and a different selection of birds, perhaps things would change further up the road.

Literally driving as far as we could up the mountain, another Red-faced Warbler put on a show.  One can NEVER complain if a bird like this dances in front of you!

Further along the trail, a distant singing bird turned out to be an Olive Warbler!  Life bird #661 was in the bag.  Whew!  What a gorgeous bird.  Close enough to relish the finer details, but far enough to not bother with a camera, we all enjoyed one of southeast Arizona’s prized warblers.

Lots of color-banded Yellow-eyed Juncos were present, too.  In short, the color bands are unique to each bird. Researchers can track the movements and behaviors of each individual by paying attention to the band.

Of course, Yellow-eyed Juncos don't have to have yellow eyes.  That doesn't happen until they are all grown up.

 

After a quick bite in Summerhaven, the after-hours target birds included nightjars and owls.  More Whiskered Screech Owls and Mexican Whips.  No visuals.

Marge returned to Tucson for lodging while Natalie and I returned to the tent.  A Great Horned Owl was booming for part of the night.   I’m sure those little owls avoided our campground.  Big owls do eat little owls. They don’t “bump fists”, swap stories, and move along…..

Day 9: June 22- California Dreaming and Some Rest

At exactly 0530 hours, as planned, Laurens Halsey from Desert Harrier Birding and Nature Guide Services arrived at Joe’s place. Still in mild distress from his date with the dentist the previous day, Joe stayed behind so Corrine did, too.  Natalie and I piled into Laurens’ moon rover-vehicle-thingy and moved on with our morning.

One of the most ridiculous adventures in Southeast Arizona birding is the hunt for the Five-striped Sparrow.  They BARELY make it into the United States.  Favoring brushy hillsides in canyons, one location has come forward as the most reliable place – California Gulch.  Basically, that’s it.  Sure, they can be found elsewhere on occasion, but still only within a few miles of the Mexican border.

It is often advised that one be totally prepared for this trek. Spare tires.  Extra water.  Big vehicles.   You are in the middle of nowhere and if anything goes wrong, you are so screwed and there is a great chance no one will know you’re there. 

Hiring a guide for this bird is the way to go, if you ask me.  They know where they are going. They know what they are looking for.  And they have ham radios in the vehicle if needed. Forget cell phones. You might as well be on Mars. Play it safe. Get a guide.

90 minutes or so later, we were parked outside the gulch and we began our descent.  The hike is not bad at all (remember it is getting there safely that is tricky).  Not twenty minutes into the Gulch, we heard and then saw, one of the flashiest sparrows in the United States. Life bird #660. Five-stripped Sparrow.

If you are wondering why the photo looks a little odd, we were looking down on it!  The gulch (or canyon or whatever you want to call it) has a rough road along the edge. We descended into the gulch by walking the road. Below us was the stream bed and that is where the bird was feeding.

But the birding didn’t stop there!  Knowing we needed other birds, Laurens took us deeper in the gulch.  For the next hour so, we had super looks at more Arizona goodies (all of which were new for Natalie) including  Gray Hawk and Dusky-capped Flycatcher. Unlike the Varied Bunting at Madera Canyon, this bird put on quite a show. 

The drive out gave us good looks at Cassin’s Kingbird and a fleeting glimpse of a Zone-tailed Hawk.  Natalie wasn’t happy with that look and was hoping for a better look later.

Hoping for a cold drink, we made a quick stop at the Gadsden Coffee Company. Located basically in the middle of nowhere, we secured Canyon Towhee in the courtyard.  Ice coffee never tasted so good.

By lunch time, we were back at Joe’s as we hired Laurens for just a half-day adventure. 

For the record, if you find yourself needing a guide in Arizona, consider Laurens. He is good, friendly, punctual, professional, flexible, and  licensed! Yes, folks, there are lots of guides available in southeast Arizona. But, per the law, some run their operations illegally as they are not licensed to run a guide service in some locations like the Coronado National Forest.

After a casual bite of lunch (somewhat by "lunch standards"), Natalie and I simply ran out of gas.  By the time we returned from dining, we were functionally dead.  Nappy-pooh time. 

After dinner, Joe (feeling slightly better), Corrine, Natalie and I headed back to Madera for more owling.  Come on – the place is THAT cool!

Like clockwork, the Elf Owls were back feeding the kids again.  At one point, Joe exclaimed “Look at the rail! Look at the rail!”  My first thought was “Holy cow, the heat is getting to this man….there are no rails, Black, Virginia, or otherwise, in Madera Canyon…”  A moment later, I realized he was talking about the hand rail.  There, in all its glory, was the Elf Owl. So small. So incredibly small.

Further up the mountain, we secured more Mexican Whips along with Whiskered Screech Owl and Northern Pygmy Owl. Calls only.  Nobody showed themselves.  Damn…

Day 8: June 21 – Canyons and Emerald Green Gems

Rising almost 7,000 feet above the surrounding desert, Mount Wrightson caps off the Santa Rita Mountains.  The north flank of the mountain range has been carved by a stream over time and is known as Madera Canyon.  Like Cave Creek Canyon, this place is a must for any serious birder.

With Joe’s dental work looming in the afternoon (and Corrine needed to assist him),the plan was to bird the lower canyon as a foursome for the morning. By lunch time, it would be just Nat and I.

Things started off well when we finally scored Natalie’s Roadrunner on the drive to the mountain’s base.  While hardly rare in the region, you never know where you will see one.  Try as we might, we never heard him say “Beep Beep!”.

The lower canyon was not particularly birdy.  A highlight was the Bronzed Cowbird at what appeared to be the home of Bilbo Baggins. Known as the Madera Kubo, this Bed and Breakfast has a feeder station that a Wild Turkey also found enticing. 

By early lunch time, Joe and Corrine had left and it was up to Natalie and I locate one of Arizona signature birds.

Ascending the canyon on a series of switchbacks (part of the Carrie Nation Trail), we hiked at least a mile in.  I can’t tell you the altitude change, but we were getting up there.  The Sulphur-bellied Flycatcher was nice!

Right about the point when our notes told us to be on the lookout, the “barking” started.  Racing up the trail still further, we settled in to a wonderful viewing spot overlooking the wash below.

Granted, it took a few moments, but for the next 45 minutes, we enjoyed some pretty fine looks at three Elegant Trogons.  All were males and they seemed to be interested in finding nesting cavities.  

Throughout the rest of the day, we bopped around the Canyon.  At the low end, we managed brief glimpses of the most uncooperative Varied Bunting the world.  Elsewhere, we had more Painted Redstarts and Bridled Titmice.  The hummingbirds at the Santa Rita Lodge were cool.  Nothing new there, but you can’t be bored!

It wouldn’t be fair to mention birding in southeastern Arizona without mentioning the lizards.  Everywhere.  Big ones. Little ones.  Drab. Pretty. Too many for me to name here!

After a camp meal at the top-most picnic area, we settled in for our evening of owling.  Joe and Corrine had told us be on a bridge by 8:00pm for Elf Owl.  When we scouted the bridge in the morning, we joked about how the Owls are probably nesting in the hole in the sycamore tree that is right NEXT to the bridge.

 Elf Owls, by the way, are the smallest owls in the world.  Standing huge at 5 inches tall, they eat insects.   I have to think a mouse would kick the snot out of these little tikes…

Come 7:30pm, as we waited patiently, we could hear the tree hissing.  Okay, it wasn’t  the tree, it was coming from inside the hole.  Something has to be in there, right?  Trees don’t hiss.  At about 7:53pm (as I recall), a shadow whisked by.  Carrying a bug the size of an macaroni elbow, it slipped into the hole.  The hissing became loud, chirping and screaming fits and we immediately realized we were feet away from an Elf Owl nest. 

For the next 15 minutes, we watched as mom and dad slipped in and out of the nest to feed the hungry mouths.  No kids left the cavity, but there had to have been at least two nestlings in there.

Attempts were made to track down the calling Mexican Whip-Poor-Will. But like his brother in the Chiricahuas, it was not to be had.

With a long successful day behind us, we returned to Joe’s place.  We were hoping for a neat mammal sighting on the drive down the canyon. Mountain Lion or Coatimundi.  The best we could muster was a fat raccoon. Bummer. I didn’t drive across the country to see something I can see filing through garbage cans in my neighborhood.  

Day 7: June 20 - Sunrise and Smart People

Jupiter and Mars greeted us at sunrise. Before long, we found ourselves gawking at the Great Horned Owls (there were four) that were milling around the Visitor Center.  Some were fuzzy, showing beyond a doubt that they were youngsters. We couldn’t tell how old the Lesser Nighthawks were. They liked the lights of the Visitor Center just as much as the Border Patrol station!

A drive along the Auto-Tour turned up more Gambel’s Quail (common place in Arizona) as well as Black-tailed Gnatcatcher (not Black-capped).  Mom Verdin feeding the kids was cool, too.

Moving east back towards Tucson failed to turn up the Crested Caracara we had heading westbound. No matter.  We had great looks the first time!

Just west of Tucson is the Kitt Peak NationalObservatory.  The drive up to the peak is wonderful. 

The Mexican Jays gave us the chance to watch cool behavior.  They cache food.  They don’t eat it all on the spot.  They eat when they are hungry. If food is not available, they go back to locations where they hid it and munch away.  

So how do they know where they hid morsel?  They remember the location.  The location is marked with an object so they don’t remember the location of the food so much as they remember the location of the object that marks the location of the food.  Get it? 

In this case, I watched the Jay steal the postage stamp-sized Dorito from the guy at the other table.  The bird flew towards me, landed feet away, and proceeded to shove the chip into the gravel.  Within moments, he grabbed a woodflake and placed it EXACTLY where he put the food.  He’ll remember that woodflake for weeks to come.

If I was a jerk, I could have moved the flake 2 inches away.  Had I done so, he would never find the Dorito.

Of course, one doesn’t go here to just watch cool birds and neat behavior. 

One of the dominant features on the peak is the McMath-Pierce Solar Telescope. 

 Looking like something more associated with perhaps the mining industry, it stands over 100 feet above the peak.  The diagonal portion is over 200 feet long to the surface of the ground. It then continues hundreds of feet more below the ground. The McMath-Pierce scope is the largest of its kind in the world.   And we went inside. Okay, you can go inside too. Do it. 

Aside from the Mexican Jays and the occasional fly-by of a Turkey Vulture (no Zone-tailed Hawks, sadly), the birding was not spectacular.  But so what. We were walking in a compound that housed some of the brightest people on the planet using some of the most sophisticated equipment ever made.  It was truly awesome.  Sleeping by day (like the sign says), these folks are simply trying to unlock the secrets of the universe.  They want answers.  It is only fair to seek answers to questions. You certainly can’t go here and get the truth.

By dinner time, we were pulling up to the house of my buddy Joe and his wife, Corrine.  Enjoying retirement almost in the shadow of Madera Canyon, one of Southeast Arizona’s birding gems, the idea was to spend some days birding with them (Corrine is from England and quite the birder herself!).  Sadly, Joe had some unexpected dental work on the horizon so his birding opportunities were limited, but he was with us in spirit!