A Christmas Miracle on the Tanque Verde

I felt like I was in a slump, that I had lost what little birding Karma I once had.   It wasn't that I wasn't seeing good birds.   It was just that the looks were too brief to call definitively.   The day before leading a bird trip I scoped out a prime riparian area with my friend Paul.  A brilliant male Summer Tanager came into the open for a moment, a nice rarity to show birders the next  day.

  Another warbler caught my eye with a yellow chest but disappeared before I could place its identity.   All I knew was that it was not one of our normal occurring varieties.   A scan afterward had me thinking best prospects to be Tennesee Warbler or Northern Parula.  
The next day the Summer Tanager hid for the trip.  So did the rare Black and White Warbler which had been seen, yet not by myself.   The trip still went well due to the enthusiasm of the participants including a 95 year old with the refreshing curiosity of a youngster.  A Peregrine flew by twice to excite the crowd, a Prairie Falcon perched nicely for scope views, and Hermit Thrushes were found at two lowland locations.   I counted 48 species in a few hours seen and heard myself, but not all could be shared visually with the nature enthusiasts.  
The next week my friend Paul rediscovered the warbler, a female Northern Parula, and found a brilliant male as well.   I went searching for the rarities without success, but heard a chip coming from some dense foliage along the road.   As I found the warbler with my bins it turned to face me and I saw dark stripes on a buffy background.  "Worm-eating Warbler!?" I exclaimed, to myself since I was alone.  It disappeared too quickly though, so I was not able to confirm with a second look, or better yet, photos.   I cursed my mixed fortune.    Was it the moon?
Weeks passed without another look at these rare gems along the Tanque Verde.  Even the Black and White Warbler was hidden from my clouded eyes.   I had a week off from work so set to work on a few bird surveys with Paul's help.   An unusually persistent rain  postponed one survey spanning the Tanque Verde wash west of the "bridge.".  
The next day we missed on all rare warblers and the tanager while walking by the loop road, but did see a Prairie Falcon and over 30 White-throated Swifts just before the survey ended.   I hoped my luck was not spreading to Paul's birding Karma, which is usually exceptional.   Could it have something to do with my close companions, who may have used my heavy shirts as a warm comforter lately?

Lilly, Scout, Sassy, Hadley

Deebs, Pickle, Sassy

I surveyed a short western section of the Tanque Verde alone.  I watched a Woodpecker with an all dark back and white wing bars as it flew across the wash into a pecan grove and disappeared from my view. Gila Woodpeckers fussed about, disturbed by this hidden competitor..  My gut and the field marks pointed to Acorn Woodpecker, a first for our neighborhood, even without seeing the clown-like face.   But, then again, Williamson's Sapsucker males have a solid dark back with white on the wings (and white rump too).   Gila Woodpeckers are territorial with sapsuckers as well.   I surmised that I had seen an unknown woodpecker, that would have been a new sight record for our neighborhood regardless of which specialty it turned out to be.  The mystery still continues as even numerous returns to the area has not yielded another sighting.    Were our cute feline family having an influence on my birding?  Or is that question just an excuse to show off our kitties again!  Aren't they cute!

Some Western Bluebirds along the woodland road gave me cause to cheer. It was also a treat seeing an Orange-crowned Warbler and Green-tailed Towhee feasting in our backyard on Thanksgiving day.  The Friday after Thanksgiving was too windy for surveys so Paul and I rescheduled for Saturday for our last survey along the Tanque Verde.  

A Prairie Falcon in the first two hundred yards was a nice find, and some Rufous-winged Sparrows were calling.   As we passed the lake I realized we had just passed our best chance for a rarity on this survey.   The wind had not brought in any unusual ducks, and the Snowy Egret seen recently must have already left for the cattail pond.     But birds were still active, with Lincoln's Sparrows and a Bewick's Wren calling as we walked the banks of the wash.   
We had just passed the midpoint when Paul casually mentioned a raptor in the air.   He mentioned that it looked dark, and then called out words foreign to my ears on my neighborhood birding trips.   "Bald Eagle!"    
"What?" I thought as I ransacked my pack for the camera.  Paul was retrieving his from his fanny pack as well.   I had only heard of one Bald Eagle sighting in eastern Tucson, seen during a Christmas Bird Count in Redington Pass.  This bird had originally been flying low and slow, possibly indicating it had just taken flight from a roost.  We snapped away as the juvenile eagle circled us, climbing higher as it slowly headed east toward the Rincons.   One or two photos actually came out legibly;

 I thanked Paul for his incredible find in our neighborhood.   As we moved on an Ash-throated Flycatcher called, and as we came into a small clearing another Prairie Falcon perched, unafraid of these curious humans.  

The next day I finally found the Black and White Warbler at the loop, a first for this species since a trip to Ecuador years ago.   Who knows what else may show up in our neighborhood in the next weeks or month.   But I feel lucky because I received my Christmas miracle, soaring over the desert on long wings which pierced my soul with its majesty.   Thank you for sharing with me the bewilderment of our amazing neighborhood wildlife.

Monsoon Sunday, survey and storm. July 29 2012

Sunday I surveyed another area east of my neighborhood with my friend Kirk.   This area butts up close to the Rincons along the TV wash, and has some amazing habitat from the additional rainfall in the foothills.  Almost immediately we heard a Summer Tanager calling, and as we approached the running wash we spotted two White-tailed Deer standing in the water upstream, with fresh velvet-covered antlers adorning their heads as they enjoyed an early morning drink.  

Tiny desert toads were so numerous we had to walk slowly to allow them time to scamper from our path, and pools of water were teeming with tadpoles.   A bobcat traversed a tributary to our left and found safe haven in the thick vegetation.  This is the magic of the monsoon, Arizona's fifth and most precious season.  The desert is now just beginning its second and most substantial growing season, cherished by new baby birds, and early migrants.  Some nestlings, especially raptors, have even left to explore new territories, something called "post monsoon dispersal."    

The startling call had a loon-like quality to it as it pushed through the cottonwoods to our ears.  We recognized this piercing call as belonging to a Gray Hawk, and we rushed for a view of this elusive hunter.  "There, in some open branches!?  I set up the scope, turned on the camera, and managed one back shot before it took flight.  It was a juvenile molting into adult plumage, as seen by the tail section in this photo.  

We heard infrequent calls but couldn't relocate it for a bit.   Then Kirk pointed,"There!" as we watched it fly across the wash, getting great views of its white rump, a distinctive field mark.  We thought that was the end of our sightings, yet the hawk would give us one more show, allowing me to capture a few more images as it peered through the branches of a dead tree. 

Even as we watched, I couldn't help being distracted by a male Blue Grosbeak in the brush before us.   Then a Great Horned Owl flew through the mesquites, disappearing again against the similar looking mesquite trunks.  I thought I heard the loud trill of a Tropical Kingbird, but never got a second chance to hear the call.  A Harris's Hawk stood tall against an exposed branch.   I heard a "ZZZZZZ," call from the vegetation, recognizing it as a bunting.   I watched as a drab brown female Lazuli Bunting flew from the cover to a open branch.   Then a brilliant male followed, staying just long enough for a couple haphazard shots. 

Before leaving the wash we managed to plant some Sycamore seeds I'd been holding, and I was referenced as, "Johnny Appleseed." for the second time in a week.  I'd actually hope for a better name, maybe "Sycamore Sam," or the like, since these seeds were natural and from the same wash. No name would be nice too, just so long as I can see the wash flowing as it has in years past. 

Later that afternoon we received the most thunderous storm of the season.  One of the thunderous bolts shook the walls as it boomed angrily at the world, and apparently awakened our resident Couch's Spadefoot, who immediately began calling out.   This toad's mating call sounds more like a complaint against being woken rather than a musical serenade.  I watched, though, and soon another toad hopped toward the sound, and disappeared behind the curtains of the mulberry leaves.  

Meanwhile the Broad-billed Hummingbird tucked herself into her nest during the downpour, tail held high, keeping her eggs safe from harm.   

 

Thank you for appreciating nature and the environment on which it thrives.