Miller: The Champagne of Canyons

Miller Canyon...with its perfect location, beautiful habitats, and relative accessibility, it is so often the object of birders' hopes and dreams, and so often the subject of many heartbreaks. The attractive qualities of Miller Canyon are superlative. The Beatty Guest Ranch in Miller Canyon is world-renowned for its variation in hummingbirds, with a North American record 14 species seen there in a single day. Additionally, it hosts an annual pair of breeding Spotted Owls, a majestic and endangered species that is not reliably found anywhere else in the state.

Despite the Owls being largely sedentary, I've made the drive down south and missed the Owls on three separate occasions, and once while joining forces with an outstanding birder ally. 

There enters the heartbreak, the spiraling depressions and benders, the broken commitments, the total total nadir of an Arizona birder's soul...a binge in Miller Canyon and leave one reeling for days. 

Heading into the belly of the beast. So young...so naive

After the most recent miss on the Owls, I was back in the Canyon within a month. I knew that this time I would find the Owls, in addition to a great many great birds, and I knew that because this time they were not the main reason for the trip back to Miller Canyon. I returned with my birding buddy Tommy, at the expense even of doing a Maricopa County east side Big Day, because there was an almighty concatenation of birds in that Huachuca Mountain pass the weekend of April 27th.   

When Western Tanagers and Magnificent Hummingbirds are some of the less remarkable bids seen on a trip...it's a good birding day.

Not only was Miller Canyon still hosting the Spotted Owls, and not only was it now receiving its normal influx of Blue-throated and Magnificent Hummingbirds, along with Dusky-capped and Buff-breasted Flycatchers, but the Canyon also had two reported Crescent-chested Warblers, a Flame-colored Tanager, Pygmy Owls, Goshawks...add in a Lucifer Hummingbird next door at Ash Canyon, and it was a feathered paradise.

A young Scott's Oriole perched on ocotillo? Not even a big deal...

Just to avoid any later disappointment, the Crescent-chested Warblers did not show that day, though we did hear some suspicious, Parula-like trilling on the trail. Thundering up and down Miller Canyon, even with dozens of other eager birders from around the southwest, including California, New Mexico, and Nevada, the odds were always heavily against finding those little birds, and we will likely hav eto wait a few more years to try again. 

But searching for Crescent-chested Warblers in Miller Canyon is like trying to find the perfect diamond in a jewelry store: there are plenty of other gems around. Also, you shouldn't eat the merchandise, nor put it in your pocket and try to leave. 

The stationary Hummingbird feeders are great attractions at the Beatty Ranch in Miller Canyon, but finding and photographing some of the Hummers away from the feeders, like this female Blue-throated below, presents an enjoyable challenge, especially when warblers are being all anti-social. 

Like the other southeastern Arizona mountain ranges, Miller Canyon and the Huachucas host the brown-backed Arizona Woodpecker. The Cactus Wren is a mighty mascot for state bird, but this fellow would've done well too, even if it is esoteric in its location. With an ability to climb, eat, and fight crime while upside down, these Woodpeckers, like Nuthatches, make Spiderman seem blasé. 

Every birding trip of 3+ hours driving needs to produce a rarity of some sort, and that rarity must have a grainy, backlit portrait taken. Miller Canyon is peculiar in that is hosts so many great birds, and so many birds that are not found much elsewhere in the country, but within the mountain range they're locally common. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, this Flame-colored x Western Tanager applied for a job in the 'rarity' department. With the yellowish wingbar and weaker orange coloration (seems like a crime to say, doesn't it) disqualifying this bird as being a pure Flame-colored, it is in the odd position of being rarer than either a Western or regular Flame-colored, and yet, as far as the lister is concerned, more or less useless. This is the plight of the hybrid bird, but a plight that does not at all extend into the realm of aesthetic enjoyment.

On the drive down from Phoenix, Tommy and I stopped to do some owling on Mt. Lemmon in Tucson the night before. It cost a good night's sleep, but we heard Flammulated, Western-Screech, Mexican Whip-poor-will, Great-horned, and N. Saw-whet Owl (nice!) all on the mountain. This fortunate prelude of owling could've been interpreted two ways. Either it was going to be a very owl-y weekend, or we used up our Owl luck in Tucson.

It was the first possibility that proved true, and we made sure right away. Before hours of hiking up and down Miller Canyon, scouring every bush and analyzing every trilll for the CCWA, we spotted the Spotted nemesis sitting in a choke-cherry tree.

Knowing he could thwart us no longer, that we had his number, that his ticket was up, the Owl still did its best to frustrate, ducking away and pretending to scratch an itch on its back. I could just be bitter, since I too get itches on my back and cannot scratch them in this fashion, thus begging the question, what the heck good is our spinal chord anyway?

When the perch has been found, the hard part is done. though the morning light was behind the bird, we eventually had some great, overdue face-time, and I should also stress that the Owl was not stressed or harassed in any way beyond our unavoidable proximity, perched as it was fairly near the trail. For better or worse, we gawking birders were business as usual for this freckled hooter.

Forgive my indulgence here, but I've dipped on this bird consistently for two years of trying, so I took a lot of photos at long last. At one point the Owl started preening and chewing on its feet--something I often see Burrowing Owl do too, but in some photos it looks like he's got twigs, leaves, or even maybe the remain of a critter stuck in there.

With the Spotted Owl secured, it was time to thunder up and down the mountain in the hopes of seeing some rarer and much more energetic birds. We scoured the lower washes, turning up many warblers, tanagers, and sparrows. We trekked up higher, turning up Greater Pewee, woodpeckers, Siskins, and Buff-breasted Flycatchers.

In our Warbler search, which did turn up just about every other possible warbler in the area, including Red-faced and Virginia's, we did a fair amount of exploring around a bend in the wash where another birder reported seeing a Northern Pygmy Owl being mobbed the day before. Exploring the pine trees around the trail, I found whitewash deposits but all the elevated staring in the world couldn't produce that little eight inch poof ball I was looking for, only dozens of Wilson's Warblers.

Later in the afternoon, while quintouple-checking that same area for the elusive Warblers, we met up with fellow Arizonan and fantastic birder Kurt Radamaker, who spotted a small but well-worn hole in a nearby scrub oak. A little patience...and there it was.

"Who dares to disturb my slumber!?"

Our sixth owl species in 12 hours, this was a super find and one of the highlights of the day. On one hand, the bird's limited visibility kept it from being a perfect sighting, but on the other hand, actually getting the Owl-in-a-hole experience isn't as normal a treat as common consensus and Halloween decorations would have us believe.

This is another Owl species I'd been trying and hoping to see for some time, with them occurring regularly but elusively on Mt. Ord in Maricopa County. It just goes to show that, like with the Spotted Owls, one of the best ways to find a really cool bird is to look for something else entirely (but also really, really cool). What's that really cheesy expression, 'shoot for the stars and land on the moon' or something? Yeah, it's kinda like that.

With Ash Canyon and Sierra Vista grasslands beckoning after Miller Canyon, there was no time nor desire to crack open a few of the High Life when we finally called it quits on the Warbler (nor time and desire for smokes after Ash Canyon, nor Sierra Nevadas after Sierra Vista, etc). No no, there were birds to see. We saved all the prodigious drinking for the drive home.

Drinking water that is! Ha ha..ha...

            

Smiles all round'

Hey Nerds,

For posts on local birding and conservation in Phoenix, there are none better than Peggy Thomas's blog Birding Without Barriers, which recently changed its URL.

For pleasurable birding and networking in Maricopa, send Peggy a message!

A Study in Orange

"Hybrid."

The word inspires many different thoughts and emotions. From spliced fruit trees to alternative fuel cars, the concept of 'hybridization' is neither foreign nor shunned in mainstream society. In the natural world, hybridization does not occur for better fuel economy, cleaner emissions, or a more intriguing fruit. Natural hybridizations occur for the mightiest reason of all. Two animals of different species decide to shun the normal standards and expectations, the pressures of their microcosmic societies to pursue love. Or maybe it's just one wild night, one moment of passion. Maybe they're just color-blind and/or deaf. Maybe (probably) it's totally stochastic. 

Some birds are more famous for their hybridizations than others. Mallards and other ducks, along with western gulls, are some of the most infamous perpetraitors. Certain species of Hummingbirds and Warblers also indulge in that funky dance.
Of course, the curious, somewhat frustrating thing about hybrids is that, despite being necessarily rarer than either of the individual species making up the mix, the hybrid is not countable on any official bird-keeping lists. With some of the ducks and gulls this is less of an issue, as both of the component species are usually fairly common, but I felt the sting of the hybrid curse a few weeks ago down in Miller Canyon with this Flame-colored x Western Tanager, where a pure Flame-colored Tanager is quite the prize.

To be fair, Flame-colored hybrids are about as common in the southeast corner of the state as pure Flame-colored Tanagers, no doubt because of the greater numbers of Western Tanagers in that area. 

I found this bird while actually exploring off the trail for a suitable restroom. It was foraging and calling from a mighty sycamore tree, each of us attending to our various needs.

The vibrance of the bird's orange seemed promising at first and in that light, but upon later examining photos I was disappointed, though unsurprised, to see that this bird was a hybrid.
While the orange is strong, it's not the near blood-ornage color of a pure bird. This specimen's upper wing bar/coverts also has a yellow tint, indicative of Western Tanager genes, and the back was too solid a dark.

In this regard, mainstream society is far advanced beyond official birding culture. When will our nerd society finally progress far enough that we might count hybrids among equals in the bird world? Our retrograde rules and institutions...don't they deserve the same rights, recognition, and list-ability as all the other birds? Flame on, Mr. Tanager.

On the other hand, how would one count a hybrid? As two species, as its own separate species? Some people just keep a separate list for hybrids they've seen. Separate but equal...no way.

Remember (to bird) the Alamo!

For this year's North American Migration Count (NAMC) I headed out to Alamo Lake in La Paz County, about 2 and a half hours outside of Phoenix. Fed by the Big Sandy, Santa Maria, and Bill Williams Rivers, Alamo Lake is a reservoir like many of the others in central Arizona. It's sizable, pleasant, and also a bit sterile. Its ample waters and its lush riparian habitats combine to make some great birding, and some excellent rarities, in the form of Mew and Lesser Black-backed Gulls, already turned up at the lake a few months ago. 

As of May 11th, with many of the winterfowl now departed but for a handful of Teal and Mallards, the Western Grebes are now the dominant force on Alamo Lake. It took about two hours to count 274 of them.

Ever elegant, the Western Grebes are always a treat to see, especially with a couple Clark's hidden in the flocks, and they were accompanied by smaller regiments of the not elegant American Coots, and the in-between elegant Eared Grebes.



In the Alamo NAMC waterfowl department, a Common Loon was the highlight, even though it dodged away before I could photograph the thing. I spent a fair portion of time kayaking around the La Paz portion of Alamo Lake. The Western Grebes were problematic on their own, timing their dives  and disappearances to perfection. We spotted the Loon while loading into the water, but by the time I was sea-ready it had disappeared, and thus I am still without photos of any Loon species. Only these more static onlookers remained.

It was unreasonable to hope that now, in mid-May, the Lesser Black-backed or Mew Gull would still be around the lake. It was preposterous. It was reckless. It was irresponsible. Just a tiny bit...I hoped anyway. Needless to say, vagrant Gulls of that magnitude were not to be found this time around and this time of year, but towards the end of next winter I will certainly be larus looking at Alamo. In the mean time, I had to make do with the usual stuff--Ring-billed and Franklin's Gulls--plus a nice, full cycle California Gull.



Though eBird flagged it as a rarity, the California Gull didn't come as a great surprise. They sporadically turn up in Phoenix during migratory months, and Alamo Lake matches any of the central Arizona water features. What made this sighting particularly nice was that, after first spotting the Gull on a distant fly-by, it landed pretty close to the kayak, was still on the La Paz side of the lake, and was in a mature plumage, unlike everybody else around him.

It ain't an Ivory Gull, nor even a Black-headed, but hey the state bird of Utah is no slouch. He was the biggest, baddest gull in Alamo, the Davy Crockett, if you will, and he bossed the subservient Ring-bills around quite magnificently. 

In case you're wondering, yes, the California Gull is giving the Ring-billed a piggy-back ride. He is a magnanimous and benevolent Gull overlord.

With the great possibility of rarity sighting on the water, kayaking and surveying were great fun. However, the biggest attraction at Alamo Lake is, I think, the massive, thick, jungly riparian habitat in the northeast corner of the lake. To get here by car, one has to backtrack several miles and then take Park Road northwest towards a way station. It's a dusty, onerous drive, but when one finally clears the last hill the verdant expanse is breathtaking. With so many of the standard red and brown, dry cliffs and hills in the area, this strip of green amazes.

Tons and tons of salt cedar, tamarisk, willows, and cottonwoods cram around where three rivers--the Big Sandy, Bill Williams, and Santa Maria--all empty into Alamo Lake. The rivers weren't too high this time, but clearly this riparian area is well-watered.
The Alamo riparian forest didn't yield any Gray Hawks or eastern Warblers, the sort of rare vagrants one might hope for, but Yellow-breatsed Chats, Yellow Warblers, Common Yellowthroats, Bell's and Warbling Vireos, and Tanagers were making a cacophony I've only seen comparably emulated in a grade school cafeteria. With the foliage being so thick, the views weren't actually that great, but it was a great practice is ear-birding and a charming acquaintance with another big riparian tract, Arizona's most precious and fragile habitat.

Since it is relatively remote and, most of all, totally removed from any other attractions that might draw people to it, Alamo Lake is very under-birded. I can't say I'll make it a frequent stop, but certainly pulling through here once a year would a good move.

I have to mention a special thanks to my dad, Larry Butler, for all of his help in surveying through the heat and dust, as well as helping me lug around a bulky kayak and bush-crash through acres of scratchy salt cedar and tamarisk. 

It will be very interesting and enjoyable to see all the final findings for La Paz county's NAMC, but one thing I found for sure is another solid birding spot in Arizona. 

Fiery Birds in Ash Canyon

There are several famous sit-n'-spots in southeastern Arizona, where generous landowners and B&B managers maintain numerous feeders and lovely properties to keep the beautiful birds of southeastern Arizona concentrated in certain areas. Of course, this also attracts birders. Many of these sites--Paton House, Batiste B&B, Beatty Guest Ranch--have also established themselves as very reliable places to see some of the southeastern rarities. The Beatty place hosts Spotted Owls in Miller Canyon while the Paton House is visited by a Violet-crowned Hummingbird every day. If a birder is hoping to see these species, there are few places better.

Mary Jo's Ash Canyon B&B is another such establishment. Maintained by the very knowledgable and charitable Mary Jo Ballator, it hosts a Lucifer Hummingbird, along with many other pretty plumaged patrons, through the spring and summer. After our thorough birding in Miller Canyon early in the morning and afternoon two weeks ago, we spent some time at Mary Jo's in the hope that a Lucifer's Hummingbird would show itself. It's always easy to spend some time at these sit-n-spots, because there's a guarantee of plentiful, close-up views of many great birds, even if one misses the actual target (which we did. If you're hoping for Lucifer's photos, turn back now).

Lazuli Buntings occur in riparian areas in Maricopa County later in the spring, in conservative numbers and with a certain amount of trepidation. At Mary Jo's, one can sit only a few feet away as they forage, by the dozens, among her hedges and seed-scattered log piles.
Of course, there's a certain dissatisfaction in photographing of cool birds standing on feeders and artificial bird attractions, but the enterprising birder can find sites around the property where, even though though the birds are still sort of baited, they're not directly partaking in the unnatural attractions.

The roving Lazuli Buntings were joined by chipping and Lark Sparrows, along with the occasional, more uncommon Indigo Bunting. Seeing either one of these species is a great treat in Phoenix. Just a few hours down south they actively mingle and feed together in droves.

Many of the male Lazuli Buntings were not in their full plumage yet, and it was charming to see their patches of brown clinging to their caps like velvet on a young deer's antlers.

With the Lucifer Hummingbird proving to be a no-show, the main attraction around the Ash Canyon B&B property, for me, were the black, orange and white birds. This nifty color combination, in addition to describing Halloween, reaches across a few families of birds and, nicely enough, they're all stunningly beautiful.
Bullock's Orioles have made a big power play in recent years and are now, by far, the most common Oriole I see in Maricopa County. There were several of them in Ash Canyon, and even though they were outsized by some of the other O/B/W birds, they stood up for themselves well, and ultimately carved out a parcel of tree to be Bullock's boulevard.

Black-headed Grosbeaks were by far the most numerous of the O/B/W category. At one point, Mary Jo's seed trays had no less than eleven birds, many immature, clambering for a spot and a mouthful of crunchies. They have this massive beak after all. I believe they have an instinctive feeling of insecurity if they're not constantly crushing nuts. Watch out...

The plumage variations on Grosbeaks is quite amazing. Sure, it doesn't compare to Wood Warblers or waterfowl, but it's cool how there's Blue and Yellow Grosbeak, the ravishing Crimson-collared Grosbeak, and then this guy, who could easily fit in with a flock of Orioles if he just traded in the beak.

They're not particularly uncommon in the spring and summer months, nor particularly shy, but it's always exciting to see that bulky mass of orange, black, and white barreling through the air, or for that matter, perched in a mesquite.

The most resplendent of the O/B/W birds down south isn't actually orange at all, but a very striking combination of yellow, orange, and white (*editor's note: I'm purposefully neglecting Flame-colored Tanager from this mix, since it is not a mainstay).

Scott's Orioles used to be a regular occurrence in central Arizona, but I have not seen one in central Phoenix for some years now, and one of the few cosistent places to find them in Maricopa County is on the slopes of Mt. Ord. They were much more plentiful down south, not only at Mary Jo's but also in Miller Canyon and other areas around Ash Canyon. This unsatisfactory young bird was the first one which I got a good visual for the day, but there was better to come.

Especially in the desert, lots of birds adopt the 'economy of style' for their wardrobe, and make the most of various browns, grays, olive, and buffy hues to both look handsome and also blend into their arid environment. The whole Oriole group, much like the Tanagers and Grosbeaks, totally torpedos that idea. They're loud to hear and to observe; loud, but certainly not unpleasant.

Their scarcity in central Maricopa made the Scott's Orioles one of the trip highlights for me, though they were not a lifer, year bird, county bird, or even a month bird. We never get tired of looking at beautiful things or listening to beautiful music either right? I can see why Scott wanted to claim this bird to be his, this bird, and no other.

Sierra Vista: A Break in the Grass

Last Weekend I made a trip down to Miller Canyon and the Huachuca Mountains for Crescent-chested Warblers, a pair of which were seen and heard there for two days, only days after a separate report of a CCWA (I have no idea if that's the code) in the Chiricahuas. That Saturday evening ended with a stake out at Ash Canyon B&B, where we waited for a Lucifer Hummingbird, the other potential lifer (along with the CCWAs) on which I dipped for the trip. 

Between 4:00pm and 5:30pm though, there was not a lot of activity in Ash Canyon nor was the Hummingbird expected, so we were faced with a dilemma. We had some time--not a lot--to move to another location and try to buff up our list for the day, or we could just stay put in case it showed early. The Sierra Vista grasslands, lying adjacent to the Huachuca mountains, held the potential for a few more birds and were close enough that we could be there and back by 6:00pm, so we decided to leave our Ash Canyon post and try this new habitat.

There was not a particular site for the grasslands. Nice-looking and not-so-nice-looking neighborhoods spread out in Sierra Vista, and we drove around until we found a promising turn off, one that would put us far enough out into the tall grass and away from any grumpy porch-dwellers who were giving us the evil-eye as we slowly drove by their domiciles. 

Almost immediately upon our foray we were rewarded with a Swainson's Hawk, at that point a new bird for the day and one that's always a pleasure to see.

The real target for the site was Scaled Quail, a tricky bird to turn up and one that would be a state bird for me, as I had only before seen them in Colorado. While driving around Sierra Vista we found a dozen Gambel's Quail, but the Scaled were proving elusive.
At the more promising pull off, next to an industrial warehouse and with plenty of space, three other birders and I spread out and advanced through the grasses, with eyes, ears, cameras, and binoculars at the ready. After about ten minutes, and two Brewer's Sparrow, one of the scaly little plumpers flushed up onto some mesquite snags. What a satisfying sight!



The whole plan to pursue this bird had materialized pretty quickly and spontaneously. With little planning or work, we had turned up a state bird a gotten very nice views. On top of that, Scaled Quail is a handsome subject, big enough and distinct enough to leave a unique impression. Since the ornery Lucifer's Hummingbird never did show that evening anyway, I'm very glad we made this detour.

When the Quail first flushed it seemed pretty anxious, but after a minute to regain its composure, the bird perched comfortably and even called a bit, though nobody answered back. 

On our way back to Ash Canyon, we were then treated to improved views of Swainson's Hawk, with the earlier tree bird now bettered by another, closer specimen brazenly perching on a utility wire. 

We were expecting this bird to flush as we drove back towards the highway, as it was posed right next to the dusty dirt road and we couldn't detour around it. Contrary to our expectations and normal behavior, it stayed put, posing with great confidence. 

Everyone in our party of four was able to get great close-up views of this Swainson's light morph.

After satisfying our needs for close up raptor time, the bird then flew off to satisfy a need of its own. It made a beeline for the other Swainson's, which was still perched in its cottonwood. Without hesitation, the two began copulating in the tree, and we figured it was time to go.

The Scaled Quail was not a lifer, and the day's outing to Miller Canyon, along with a night up on Mt. Lemmon had produced plenty of lifers, but the Scaled Quail was still one of the highlights of the trip. It was a tricky/uncommon enough bird to make the find feel special, we had great views, and the bird itself is super adorable. With all that brigandine, this stout bird is really a Battle Quail, and it will definitely charge you with that Q-tip horn. Great bird.