Summer Backpackin'

This year, we went on a pack trip from Virginia Lake to Bridgeport's Twin Lakes in the eastern Sierra.  Our campsites were at Frog Lakes, Return Creek in Virginia Canyon, Matterhorn Canyon, Sister Lake, Doe Lake, and a bench below Burro Pass.  The trip was unique for its abundant water - frozen and otherwise - and all together beautiful!

Our original plan was to start hiking Monday, but we wanted to get an early start that day.  The result was that we started Sunday afternoon and camped at Frog Lakes after only a short walk in.  The real highlight was having lunch with Grandma Brown in Bridgeport.  Then she helped shuttle us over to Virginia Lake so that we could leave a car at the parking lot in Twin Lakes.

The hike was short, but there were some pretty sights along the way, and a few snowy spots in the shade.  This old cabin by a prospect was interesting:

We were all in a good mood when we set up camp because we weren't tired.  The area was beautiful, and after a dinner of tomatoes, brie and apples, we went for a walk out  around the nearest Frog Lake.  In the nearby talus a Pika whistled, frogs were singing in the snow-melt inundated meadows, and handsome flowers like this marsh marigold were blooming in the cool evening light:

The restful dusk was bursting with the beauty of the mountains, but of course the prettiest thing I saw hiked up on her own two legs:

A few more pictures from the first day are at Flickr.

Fourth of July

Sometimes you go looking for a certain bird, and you don't find it.  Such was the case this last fourth of July weekend.  We left Friday evening for Fresno with the goal of finding Great Gray Owl in the early morning in Yosemite, and then Sooty Grouse in the later morning at Glacier Point.

Well, it didn't quite turn out that way, but it was a great excuse to drive through beautiful Yosemite, and to enjoy the flooding waterfalls and late snow.

We woke up at 2:30 in the morning to get a good early start.  Our goal was to be at McGurk Meadow, a grassy patch off of the Glacier Point road, well before sunrise.  We parked the car around 4:30, and hiked in the gloom of the early morning down the short trail to the meadow.  We got there in the first light of morning, hiking through the forested meadow edges and intently watching for any large nocturnal predators.  Nothing hooted, nothing flew by, and so we admitted defeat around 7:00 in the morning and headed back to the car.  On the way we flushed a Junco from the ground and wondered at its tiny little nest in a scrape in the duff.


Then it was off to Glacier Point, where we enjoyed the spectacular waterfalls in the light of the early morning and from a thousand or so feet above.

 

Unfortunately, no Sooty Grouse.  We did enjoy a Pileated Woodpecker, some Nuthatches, and I got to see a deer bed down for the day in a thicket just off the beaten track.  That was a treat.

Then it was off for Tioga Pass.  We didn't want to brave the crowds in the Valley, but we did stop briefly at Bridalveil Falls because it was on the way.

 

Quite a soaking standing at the base of this sometimes ribbony falls this Independence Day weekend!  

Our next stop was the Crane Flat Chevron Station.  The meadow there sometimes hosts Great Gray Owls.  We decided to take a late morning stab at them, without much hope, and wandered off through the bordering woods in vain.  The meadows themselves were all well inundated with the recent melt, so we decided not to brave their miry depths.

Unsuccessful, we headed for a short hike to the Tuolomne Grove of Giant Sequoias.  This is a cool 3 mile round trip hike, and we had a great time admiring the enormous trees.

 

Lots of cool birds on this hike, too.  Down in the grove, there were a couple of feisty Pacific Wrens singing their heads off.  Their incredibly long and fast tinkling songs are always a pleasure to hear, and this was our first time encountering them in the Sierra.  Along the trail up there were a couple of singing male Hermit Warblers, too, and I always love to encounter my favorite little hooded parulid.

On our way out, we were hoping to hike out to May Lake, but the trailhead road was still snowed in.  Not relishing doubling our hike at the latish hour, we passed along and did a little touristing at Olmsted Point and Tuolomne Meadows.  We still had enough time for another hike, though, so we took off for Dog Lake from the trailhead below Lembert Dome.

 

On the way up we ran into a couple of Japanese girls who were in distress.  One of the girls had fallen down on Lembert Dome, and had suffered a concussion.  Some other hikers on the way down said they would help them on their way, so we shared our water with them and headed on.  We ran into them again on our way out, and a member of their party had come up to help.  It was a short hike, but it's a good reminder that bringing your "essentials" can help someone beside yourself.  It made me wish we'd had our daypack so we could have been of more assistance, but we thought such a short hike could be done lightly.

Then it was off over the pass, where there was still a lot of snow on the ground.  On the far side of the pass, we had a Mono Cone, and then made for the cabin.  Lots of snow meant another hike in, but we were just happy to be there regardless!

While the trip to Yosemite was a real highlight, it wasn't the sum of our experience.  We still had Sunday and Monday to spend around the cabin.  On Sunday, we hiked to Barney Lake.  From a little way above Emerald and on, we were always walking on snow.

Skelton still had a bit of lake ice, but not too much.  The trail was under the snow, of course, but we're familiar enough with the way that we didn't need it.  We saw a back-country skiier come out from the pass at Skelton.  We didn't talk to him, but I guess he'd been at Purple.  Sort of an unusual activity for the fourth of July!

Barney was pretty much ice free, too, though the pass wasn't. 

The next morning we were off for Hammil Lake in the morning.  I had only been there once before, so I had only a vague notion of how to get there.  Nevertheless, we made it, and found the lake hard to recognize under its thick covering of snow and ice.  In fact, I have to admit I didn't recognize it.

All in all, it was another highly enjoyable trip to the Sierra Nevada.  It's such a remarkably late year in regard to snow that I was always trying to drink it in and make the most of it.  More pictures of snow at Flickr, of course.

Opening the Cabin, 2011

Big snow in the Sierra this year.  Record-breaking amounts of snow!  Piles and piles on feet upon yards of the white stuff in big rolling drifts.

So, when we went up to open the cabin in the last weekend of June this year, we were all tingly with expectation to see the extent of the mountain frosting.  Last time we were there was back in February, when though there was a lot of snow, it wasn't yet at record-setting levels.  Now we knew there would be less, but we also knew there would be a lot more than normal.  Normal in late June for the immediate area around the cabin being none.

We drove up Friday night, got in around 9 or 10, hiked up to the cabin and dropped into bed.  In the morning we awoke to a brilliant spring wonder-land.

 

It was great!  Lots of snow, warm days, and the constant murmur and rush of the big melt going on all around us.  Much of the trip we spent our time opening and cleaning the cabin, but we also found some time to do some sledding.  That led to a pretty hairy accident.  Here's a smaller foreshadowing of that disaster.

The long and the short of it is that Dad hit a tree going much faster than above, and he was OK.  Thank God.

On Sunday morning, we took a hike up to Hart Lake.  We figured that trail would be fairly open due to its open treeless slopes and more southerly exposure, and we were right.  To get there, we hiked up the Coldwater Creek Campground road, which was still closed, enjoying the Pine Siskins and Cassin's Finches busying themselves in the trees around us.

 

Up on Red Mountain, we were serenaded by Dark-eyed Juncos, Green-tailed Towhees and Thick-billed Fox Sparrows.  At a meadow, an Orange-crowned Warbler was foraging in the willows.  I'm always surprised to encounter this species, which breeds in our local park, at high altitudes.

The best part of Hart Lake was that it was still frozen!  There was a thick coating of snow and ice over much of the lake, along with a scattering of trees swept in by an over-winter avalanche.

 

That afternoon, we headed home.  It was a short trip, but a fun one, and we'll long remember this extraordinary year of late spring snow.  Lots more pictures, and some videos, from the trip can be found on our Flickr page.

Wonderful Wednesday

As the first glow of a new day's light tinted the murky dark of an east Texas April night, we pulled into a weed-grown side road. A long and slow train, a difficult search for an open restroom, and a much-needed stop for doughnuts had stretched our long drive north-east to the Big Thicket from Winnie so that we were now in danger of running out of sufficient darkness for owls and nightjars.

Stepping out of the car into the cool, damp morning, our hopes were set on Barred Owl and Chuck-will's Widow, but our attempts in the pre-dawn gloaming netted only a responsive, but essentially unseen, Eastern Screech-Owl and a snuffling skunk. The owl flew in over Libby's head, and then simply disappeared in the dense understory.

And so began our morning of birding in the Big Thicket area of eastern Texas. This region is full of southern pinewoods and humid bayous, and our primary goal was to find a Swainson's Warbler. We were acting on the advice of a local, and it was perfect. Soon after dawn, we had our first look at this skulky brown southern specialty.

 

Libby at Gore Store Road

We continued on down a road called Gore Store, finding Yellow-breasted Chat, and our only Prairie and Hooded Warblers of the trip. We didn't know that there had been a fire in the area immediately before we arrived, and that they were still mopping up the after-effects. We found out soon enough, as the road turned into a muddy quagmire. We somehow navigated through the sludge in our little economy rental.

On the other side, we stopped at the headquarters of the Big Thicket National Preserve for a stroll down the Kirby Nature Trail. I was hoping for some more southern-style birds, but it was very quiet in the middle of the morning. Still, we enjoyed the lizards and trees of the walk. There were, of course, a few birds. Red-eyed and Yellow-throated Vireos sang unseen in the high canopy, an Ovenbird charmed us in the undergrowth, a Northern Parula sang circles around us when we entered his territory, and most exciting of all, a Red-headed Woodpecker flew into some snags near a Cypress swamp! That was a much-anticipated lifer, and we had fairly good , if neck-craning, views of the bird.

As we made our way back to the parking lot, a cool breeze from the north began whispering in the still humid air, rustling the oak leaves and pine needles. We set the wind to our back and made for High Island.

Hours later, when we arrived, we knew to expect good things. The parking lots and streets were packed with people. This was the first good weather for birding that season, and as it was right at the peak of migration, crowds of traveling and local birders had settled in to meet the birds. Before we even entered Boy Scout Woods, we were seeing warblers: multiple Northern Parulas and Black-throated Green Warblers were working the edges of the lot. After entering and paying, we soon picked up the first of several Blackburnian Warblers for the day. Red-eyed Vireos, Warbling Vireos and Philadelphia Vireos - the latter a lifer - also moved through on their way north.

After so many days of waiting, it was sweet to enjoy this parade of colorful neotropical migrants. Finally the birding was easy and the pickings good!

Our camera's not too good to take pictures of any of these birds, and it's hard to describe the joy of such a visual experience without images, but I can say it was a fantastic afternoon and evening!  Here are a few pictures we took during the day, but no bird pictures: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rowleypics/sets/72157627019081679/

A Texas Tuesday

Our third morning in Winnie, we had more hard decisions to make. The wind was still coming in from the south, so we didn't know if we could expect to find anything interesting at High Island, but that's the place we'd come to see, so it was hard to pass it up for two days in a row. On the other hand, if the passerine birding is poor, one can always count on shorebirds. Our plan ended up being a morning stop at High Island, and then to spend the rest of the day out on the Bolivar Peninsula.

It was still slow at High Island. Still, at Boy Scout Woods, we found our first ever Gray-cheeked Thrush hanging out at dried puddle called, optimistically, Prothonotary Pond. That was pretty cool. Buoyed by our success, but oppressed by the deadly silence embracing Boy Scout Woods, we headed over to Smith Oaks where we found more silence. Some berry eating birds were feeding in hackberries there, which was fun to watch, but the highlight of the morning was our first Chestnut-sided Warbler of the trip. That's an incredibly pretty bird, so we took the time to property enjoy it.

Then it was off to the Peninsula!

The Bolivar Peninsula is a long sand bar that stretches off toward Galveston Island. It looks to be a popular vacation destination, with many houses (on stilts) along its length. After Hurricane Ike in 2008, it was stripped of many of its buildings by the tremendous storm surge accompanying that storm, but it's being rebuilt and looks mostly cheery, now.

Though, there are still many signs of the hurricane.

We picked up a few lifers on the peninsula. At Rollover Pass, we found our first American Oystercatchers and Piping Plovers. We had some help from a friendly Brit with the former, but had to scrape the latter out with our scope from a distant sandbar. We also enjoyed watching the many terns' graceful antics, especially the pretty Black Terns.

We also tried for Nelson's Sparrows in the marsh grass. Supposedly you can pssh them up, but we didn't have any luck, despite trying in whatever hopeful marshy places we could find. We did have a couple of Magnificent Frigatebirds at these stops, soaring in the distance. Those are some friggin' birds.

The weather continued poorly with an absolutely buffeting south wind coming in off the ocean. When we stopped at Bolivar Flats, which is supposed to be one of the premier shorebird locations in the entire country, we had a hard time keeping the scope up. The wind was probably constantly blowing at 20 mph with stronger gusts. The birds were hunkered down, and we had sand in our eyes, hair and mouths. That's what birding is all about!

Blowing Away at Bolivar

We made it out to the tip of the peninsula, where an industrial-looking lighthouse towered over a frothy brown sea and a grassy old fort. We tried to loop around on a different road, but found the hurricane had washed out a bridge and had to turn around. The low traffic, though, allowed us to slowly admire the many shorebirds in some ponds there. We got right up close to some, which was very nice.

Bob Road was a great stop on our way back, with more shorebirds that allowed close approach. We got our first Stilt Sandpipers for the trip, and the only Wilson's Phalaropes. It was interesting to see the phalaropes out of the water. One of them was walking in frantic circles, much like the way that they forage when they're swimming - which is how we normally see them.

Then we dropped by High Island one last time. We found a couple more warblers that evening, including our first Tennessee and Black-throated Green Warblers for the trip. We ended up back in Winnie for a late dinner at a Cajun Steakhouse. Libby got a fantastic dish of grilled alligator, and I got some nice fried crawfish. It was definitely the most memorable meal we had on the trip, and we really felt like we were partaking of the local cajun flavor.

Pictures from the day are up on Flickr.

Space Camp

Not really. Ok, so Monday afternoon we got to visit our ol' college chum Christine! It was great to catch up with her after five years(!) of post-Biola life.

She also works at NASA, so we got to take a tour of the Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center. There are lots of neat things to see there, though some may have been off-limits due to the scheduled Endeavour launch that only finally just took place.

We got to see the old Mission Control. This is the room they ran the Apollo missions from, among others. Apollo 11 told this room that the Eagle had landed, and Apollo 13 told this room that they'd had a problem. Famous!

Apollo 13 is a reminder that space flight carries inherent and grave risks. I was impressed by the many memorials in the parts of the Houston complex we visited to those who have lost their lives in the manned space program. On the right side of the room there is a collection of all of the mission patches from the missions run from the room. These patches began on the left side of the room, and then were moved over to the right side after their successful conclusion.

There are two patches that remain on the left side of this old Mission Control room: Apollo 1 and Challenger. It was sobering to see, but gives a sense of the open-ended nature of death that strikes me as appropriate.

Most of our tour we spent in the room where Christine works.

This room runs experiments on the effects of long-term space flight on the human body on the International Space Station. We were in the envious position of actually being able to talk in depth with Christine and one of her co-workers that was at work when we got there about what that involves. I was really impressed by the incredible complexity of running even this small element of a space flight.

Christine then took us by some more of the rooms that you can visit on a tour of the Space Center. We got to see the modern control room for the International Space Station. It's a little fancier than the old ones from the '60s.

After that, we visited the mock-up room. There's a room full of scale models of different spacecraft. These are used by the astronauts and engineers to plan and train missions. They have models of the space station, the new Orion module, a Soyuz capsule, and several parts of the Space Shuttle. They also have displays of new technology, a space suit, and more memorials to those lost in the space program.

One use of this module is to train for emergency egress. The far side has a worn track from where astronauts have rappelled down the side.

The last thing we got to see was Houston's Rocket Park. This is just inside the front gates of the center, and anyone can visit it during work hours. If you're ever in Houston, you should stop by and see a Saturn V.

So cool! The Saturn V is the most powerful transportation device ever built by man. It's the only rocket ever built that could take man out of earth's orbit. They have a nice display here with each of the three stages separate so that you can see the engines, and they have a Command and Service Module from Apollo (probably would have been used on 18) right in-line there, too. It gives a great sense of scale!

After that, we went out to dinner with Christine for some good old fashioned Texas barbecue. This was maybe the best part of the day, and we had a good time catching up with her.

There are lots of pictures up on Flickr.

Anahuac NWR

The Monday of our trip was very interesting, but it divides so cleanly into two parts that I can't help but describe it that way. Hence there will be two blog posts for the day instead of one. In this post I'll talk about our trip to Anahuac NWR, but after that we'll visit Houston and the Johnson Space Center.

Since the wind wasn't letting up, we decided to forgo High Island on Monday. Looking through the book for possible locations to visit, I noticed that Anahuac National Wildlife Refuge was to our west, and therefore closer to Houston than Winnie. Great, since Anahuac is a must-see spot, it worked out perfectly.

On the way there we scanned the fields we were passing to see if any were flooded rice fields. We didn't even really know what a flooded rice field looks like, so when we didn't find any, we weren't sure if we were doing something wrong. Flooded fields are like magnets to certain species of shore eschewing shorebirds. Texas birders call them "grasspipers," and we hadn't seen several of them. Even though we didn't find any flooded fields, we did find an Upland Sandpiper in a dry pasture.

Photo by Johnath via Wikipedia.

At our first stop, we took a windy walk along a sidewalk. Brown-headed Cowbirds, Eastern Kingbirds, and a fly-by Yellow-billed Cuckoo were the highlights of the stop, but we also got to enjoy some of the non-bird wildlife of the area. Check out this Little Brown Skink:

Our next stop was in the main refuge, where we helped a turtle cross the road. It was just past a slight bend in the road, and had only narrowly escaped a grisly fate from a passing truck when we first saw it. The crazy thing is that when I picked it up to move it an enormous amount of water came pouring out of this thing. It was like a water balloon inside the shell had popped or something. I barely dodged the deluge, and was left with a renewed appreciation for the water-carrying capabilities of the common Red-eared Slider.

There used to be some patches of trees in the refuge that are supposed to be good for migrants, but they seem to have taken a pretty heavy battering by the recent hurricanes that have torn through here. Ike was a big one, and the tallest trees in the willows in the refuge were snags. Still, we got a few more Orchard and Baltimore Orioles in what was left of them.

Then we drove around what is called Shoveler Pond. At this point in time, it's a muddy ditch with a little water in the bottom of it, and the "pond" is a bone-dry field on the other side of that ditch. It's been incredibly dry in Texas this year, and it was really evident. Still, the muddy ditch attracted dowitchers, Lesser Yellowlegs, Black-legged Stilts, and our only Wilson's Snipe for the trip. Best of all were a couple of King Rails, which were lifers, and several Least Bitterns, which appeared to be migrating in off of the gulf.

Next, we drove down to the sea-side to see if we could find Nelson's and Seaside Sparrows. The Seaside Sparrows turned out to be easy, but the Nelson's Sparrows eluded us for the day. It was great, though, to get up close and personal with some Eastern Willets. Eastern Willets breed along the gulf and mid-Atlantic coasts, and seem likely to be a different species from the larger, grayer birds that winter on the American coast and migrate into the interior to breed given their disjunct breeding populations.

Since all we see here in California are the interior birds, we rarely see Willets of any sort in breeding plumage. At some locations on this trip to Texas, we saw the two together in the same pond.

As we were stopping to use the facilities on the way out, a couple of birders from Georgia invited us to see a King Rail family in their scope. The babies never cooperated with us, but we did get to see a Sora and some other shorebirds as well as get some better looks at King Rails. Then it was off to Houston!

We took more pictures of birds on this day than we did any other day, and there are thirteen photos in the set from the morning. It's great to be able to take pictures of birds from the car, and the Willet above is a sign of that. We also have a good picture of an up-close Eastern Kingbird.

Easter in Texas

On Easter morning this year we worshiped at a small church in Austin called St. Francis' Anglican Church. It was good. The congregation uses the 1928 Book of Common Prayer, so we had to read through some of the prayers, and we unknowingly attended the earlier said mass. Well, we knew it was the earlier mass, but we didn't see that it was a said mass. It doesn't really matter, though, because we were able to celebrate the resurrection with fellow Christians, and that's what's important. Afterward everyone was very kind and welcoming to us.

The church was near downtown Austin, so we swung by the Capitol afterward. It's a very beautiful building made of nice red stone. In the picture below, you can see a beautiful woman in front of it, too.

Libby at the Texas Capitol

There were some interesting memorials on the grounds as well, including one to the Texas Rangers, one to firemen, one to cowboys, and one to the great Confederate States of America that came off as particularly un-neighborly. The verdant grounds seemed decent for migrant songbirds, but we didn't see any. Still, we enjoyed the White-winged Doves and Blue Jays that were common all around.

Then it was time for a long drive to Winnie, Texas -- east of Houston. It took about four hours to get there, but there wasn't any traffic and we got to listen to Jane Eyre on the way.

After checking in at our hotel that afternoon and changing, we headed down to High Island for our first visit to this birding mecca. High Island is among the most famous birding locations in the country. It is heavily visited by as many as 10,000 American and foreign birders interested in observing the spectacle of spring migration close-up and personal.

The location's powerful attraction is due to its unique bio-geography. The upper Texas coast between Galveston and the Louisiana border is very flat. It consists of coastal prairie, agricultural fields (lots of rice), and brackish marsh-lands. For many miles, this flat expanse stretches inland uninterrupted by any relief. There are no hills, few groups of trees, and few enough houses away from the immediate coast.

That is good habitat for many birds, and the area teems with wading birds, rails and shorebirds. But it is not very welcoming to tired migrant song birds in need of rest, shelter and fuel after their marathon nocturnal flight over the Gulf of Mexico. After their four to six-hundred mile over-water flight, they have to make a decision. If the flight was good, they'll be able to continue on into the insect-rich interior of east Texas, where pine woods and bayous promise good food and good cover. If, however, conditions conspire against them, such as an unforeseen mid-morning cold front sweeping into the gulf from the midwest (the trans-gulf flight taking more than 12 hours even in the best conditions), they will seek shelter in the first spot of trees that they find. For many miles along the upper Texas coast, that is High Island.

High Island is not an island. It is a salt dome where a protruding salt column has pushed the soil several feet higher than the surrounding wetlands. The resulting higher ground provides ample space for many hardwood trees to grow, especially oaks, and these trees are like a lighthouse to weary neotropical migrants. It's a very small town, mostly residences with one motel and no traffic signal, but its avian population can swell exponentially given the right weather!

When we arrived on Sunday, there was a southeasterly wind. It was blowing strongly, probably about 15-20 mph, and the birding was slow in High Island. Most birds were able to happily continue on their way to the interior, so there were only a few flocks of Orchard Orioles, female buntings, some Baltimore Orioles, Rose-breasted Grosbeak and a rare Western Tanager around. Later searching turned up a male Scarlet Tanager in the late evening. While our hopes for oodles of warblers went unfulfilled, we did enjoy the rookery at Smith Oaks. There we watched Roseate Spoonbills sweeping the shallows for water while the hum and smell of the nesting birds provided an interesting spectacle.

The best part of the evening, however, was a brief experience with a Magnolia Warbler, which was a lifer for us. We saw two, and the first one was seen well by Libby but poorly by me. The second one we found I was able to see quite well, also, and so we added our only lifer for the day!

Louis Agassiz Fuertes' Magnolia Warbler via Wikipedia

Pictures of the day can be found on Flickr.

The Hill Country

Different regions have different birds, and part of the treat of looking for unique bird species is seeing those unique regions they inhabit. On our recent trip to Texas, this pursuit took us to the hill country of central Texas for two endangered species that breed there: Black-capped Vireo and Golden-cheeked Warbler.

We landed around midnight in Austin, Texas. Following the helpful directions of the friendly lady at the rental car counter -- God bless friendly Texans -- we soon were ensconced in our hotel just to the north-east of that city. A very few hours later to beat the dawn, we were on our way into the Hill Country and Balcones Canyonlands National Wildlife Refuge. The flat terrain began to wrinkle, and hills dotted with shrubby junipers rose up on either side of the road. It was the unique ecology of this scrub habitat that provided a home for the special birds we were there to see.

Golden-cheeked Warblers are the only endemic breeding species in the enormous state of Texas. They migrate south to Mexico every year, but they return every March to feverishly provide for the increase of their species. They do this in the scrubby mixed juniper-oak forests found in the hill country, making nests almost exclusively out of Ashe Juniper bark.

Black-capped Vireos have broader habitat preferences, and also breed sparingly in Oklahoma and Mexico, but while their nesting ecology may be less picky as to species, they still require rare successional habitat such as is provided by suppressed wildfires, and is regularly cleared for grazing cattle.

We pulled into the parking lot at Warbler Vista in the refuge early enough to hear a chuck-will's-widow wrapping up its dawn performance, but when we headed off onto the trail we found a steady 20 mph wind flowing up the south-facing slopes of the limestone escarpment we were contouring along. It was quickly obvious that, despite hopeful little trail signs painted with Golden-cheeked Warblers at regular intervals, detecting singing birds was going to be hopeless.

We were both breathing silent prayers, and as we topped out on top of the hill to loop back to the car, a beautiful male dropped onto a branch over the trail. It continued there, giving good looks, as another warbler sang from the trees somewhere nearby. The wind died down, or we were sheltered from it, and we were soon hearing many Golden-cheeked Warblers singing. We only saw a couple more, but we had been able to really enjoy the one we had seen!

Afterward, we worked our way through the refuge toward the Black-capped Vireo spot advertised on-line. Along the way we enjoyed the beautiful geology and more fun birds like Scissor-tailed Flycatchers, Lark Sparrows, and Eastern Bluebirds.

Cow Creek carves steps into a limestone hill.

Soon we were standing on the Shin Oak observation deck, and listening to Black-capped Vireos singing in the unobtainable distance. That activity would end up being our entertainment for most of the rest of the day, interrupted only briefly by a bathroom break to Doeskin Ranch. Sometimes the vireos would come in close to the deck, but they always sang from deep within the scrubby oaks. We would have undoubtedly had a better chance if the wind had been less strong, but even then it was probably not a safe bet.

While we sat and listened and strained our eyes in vain for four and a half hours, we made our acquaintance with a Houston-area couple making a weekend trip to the hill country for the warblers and the vireo among other natural pursuits. When they left, we exchanged e-mail addresses and talked about meeting up with him later in the week. There's nothing like local knowledge, so it was a very fortuitous meeting!

We called it a day after seeing one of the vireos fly from one bush to another. It was nothing we'll count, but it seemed the culmination of a long and tiring effort. Running on three hours of sleep, we wanted nothing more than a nap! So, we went back to the hotel and grabbed one before dinner.

A few pictures are up on Flickr.

Mammoth Skiing

While most people go to Mammoth to catch a ride on a ski lift to some fun on the slopes, we Rowleys have a different philosophy. We toil our way into the virgin white forests away from the madding crowds, where twittering chickadees and the swish-crunch of cross-country skis on new snow are the only sounds to violate the mysterious silence of a winter's day.

Libby and her Dad soak in the serenity of a snowy forest.

This year, Libby's Dad joined us to recapture the joyful pursuit of cross-country touring he enjoyed many years ago. We all had a great time in about 5' of dry powder, toiling happily along in slow agony as we laid our familiar tracks up the mine road. It took us three days of retracing our tracks and laying more to finally reach the meadow below Emerald Lake, but it was undoubtedly worth it.

Coldwater Creek just below Emerald Lake.

We also took a break from the hard work in the forests to enjoy the groomed tracks around Lake Mary, visiting Horseshoe Lake and taking in beautiful views of the crest and Crystal Crag. Along the way we stopped to feed the bold little Mountain Chickadees. They snatched peanuts from our hands, pecked at our plastic food bags, and even landed hopefully on us when we weren't feeding them.

A Mountain Chickadee perches on a ski pole.

The weather proved entertaining. It was snowing when we began skiing to the cabin early on Friday afternoon, and it never stopped completely until late on Saturday. That meant about two or three feet of new powder on top of two or three feet of powder dropped between Tuesday and Friday. While that made it incredibly difficult to move, the storms also brought the sleepy beauty of a heavy snow, and ensuing cold. This was the coldest trip to Mammoth I've been on, and I got to experience my first sub-zero temperatures.

A couple of degrees below zero

Water didn't freeze instantly, but drops did freeze within a minute. We also experienced a novel problem for us -- keeping our water bottles ice free. On a chilly trip up the mountain I found the top had almost frozen closed and that there was a centimeter of ice coating the interior of my Nalgene bottle. This was despite carrying it in an insulated cover!

Inside the cabin we enjoyed our normal winter pursuits. We read, played Uno and Bananagrams, and chatted while drinking copious amounts of hot chocolate and teas. It was, all in all, a great time.

Picture wrap-up on Flickr: February Cabin trip, 2011.

Santa Cruz Island

I've totally been neglecting this blog, which is too bad. However, I did want to jot down a few memories from our little trip to Santa Cruz Island for my birthday. If I get my act in gear, I may try to fill in some of the gap since our last post.

The largest island off of California's coast, Santa Cruz Island is a must-visit location for every bird junkie in the state, if not the country. This is due to the fact that it happens to host a species of bird found nowhere else in the world - the Island Scrub-Jay. This boldly colored blue jay is very similar to the mainland Western Scrub-Jays only a twenty-odd miles away. However, they are a bit longer, heavier, bluer, with longer bills and longer legs than their mainland relatives. Islands are diversity hot-spots all over the world, chock-full of unique species isolated from the rest of the world by expanses of water, but this is the only such case of avian endemism off the coast of the mainland U.S.

Libby and I always approach boat trips with trepidation. After all, we both get carsick fairly easily, and everyone knows that sea sickness can really ruin your day! But, once again we lucked out. Our trip met with calm seas. There was a large swell, but the interval was really long, makings a nice, smooth ride. The big highlight on the way out was a large pod of Common Dolphins. There were probably over a hundred, and they came up to the boat and rode the waves after it slowed for the passengers to observe them. That was fantastic. My abilities with the camera were too poor, but I did get a short video you can see on Flickr.

We arrived on the island after about an hour. Only we, some of the crew and a single researcher got off on the boat's second stop - Prisoner's Harbor. This is the place birders always go to try and pick up the Scrub-Jay, and we weren't disappointed! We got the bird within the first few minutes of landing, assisted by the helpful boat crew.

Island Scrub-Jay

Check out the bill on this bird! This is one of a confiding pair that nests in the harbor area. We were able to watch and enjoy them from close up for a long time before they flitted off into the willows.

After that, we wandered around and enjoyed the exotic locale. There are some giant eucalyptus growing around a gravel stream, thick willow forests, a gravelly beach whose stones clattered solemnly as the surf drained out of them, and lots of sun-drenched chaparral.

On the way back we got to see some migrating Gray Whales really well, and the boat captain helped us find seabirds. We stood outside of the wheelhouse window and he would knock on it when something came into view. We had decent views of Common Murres, Rhinoceros and Cassin's Auklet, and a light-morph Jaeger that took off of the water right in front of that boat drew him out into the wind to shout it out in excitement. He guessed that it was a Pomarine, but since we couldn't identify it ourselves we're going to let it go as unidentified for now.

The Rhinoceros Auklets and Cassin's Auklets were lifers. We also had a few different alcids we couldn't identify - I think probably one Ancient Murrelet and one Xantu's Murrelet - but it was hard to tell. The thing is, you're shooting along at 20+ knots, and the boat is moving up and down, and the birds are distant , and are also moving up and down, and it's just hard to identify anything, especially if you don't have any experience with the birds.

Anyway, it was a great trip! We had a blast.

I put up a group of pictures on Flickr: Santa Cruz Island set. It includes video of dolphins, and some shots of interesting sights on and off of the island.

Labor Day Backpacking

Libby and I took a short backpack trip over our American Labor Day Weekend. We went to Thousand Island Lake via the Rush Creek trailhead near Silver Lake. Like any backpacking trip, it was occasionally challenging, but we had a great time and can't wait to make it back into the high Sierra next year.

This wasn't the trip we'd planned. While our first choice had always been to go to Thousand Island Lake, we'd hoped to do it via one of the easier routes, via the high trail or the river trail from Agnew Meadows. Unfortunately, when we arrived at the ranger station in Mammoth first thing on Saturday morning, we were too far back in the permit line to have any real chance of getting a spot on either of those trails. The quotas were filling up fast for everywhere in the area, and our second choice, the Dorothy Lake area above Convict, went out the door with the two people in line directly before us.

Libby and I pause for a photo at the trail head.

Anyway, with most of the weekend-friendly spots filled, we took the Rush Creek trail head and were thankful. Unfortunately, the line for the permits and the drive to June Lake meant that we didn't get on the trail until 9:30, which gave just enough time for it to get plenty hot on the exposed slopes below Agnew Lake. We made very slow progress up the hill, and got to Agnew around 11:30 for an early lunch.

At Agnew Lake, we had a decision to make. We could either go the longer, more gradually ascending route around Gem Lake, or take the shorter and steeper route via Spooky Meadows. We opted for the latter for a couple of reasons. One: it was a full two miles shorter, and two: we were going so slowly, anyway, that a steep ascent couldn't really slow us down. I still feel like it was the right decision, but it's a fairly difficult climb.

This lake is just a little below the crest.

Just beyond the crest, which is just after the climb past Spooky Meadows (which weren't very spooky), we found this beautifully sparkling lake. Just past it there was a pair of deer foraging in the trees. The trail drops down into the Clark Lakes, of which the above may be the first, depending on your map, and we enjoyed walking past their grass-lined borders. Little tree frogs were hopping across the trail, which was fun.

Libby at the biggest Clark Lake

We enjoyed the continued stretch of downhill from Clark Lake, but had to stop to take in the view of the San Joaquin's valley. The crest isn't spectacular here, though the Ritter Range is, and the views of Mammoth Mountain, Mammoth Crest, and - just peaking from beyond Mammoth Pass - Crystal Crag itself, offered a new perspective on a much beloved place. A haze of smoke, the acrid bite of which occasionally nipped inside the nose, unfortunately kept the views from being as perfectly clear as Sierra air can be.

Mammoth Mountain and Crest beyond the middle fork of the San Joaquin River valley.

We arrived at Thousand Island Lake around 5:30 in the evening, and had to hike past a dozen or more camps to find an open spot to camp. That added an extra mile or more to our trip, and of course, was a little disheartening after a long day's hike. All the time, however, our pain was well compensated by the absolutely fantastic scenery that the lake offered as we walked along its banks. The views of Banner, alone, are worth the trip, and the lake's endless and varied shoreline, granite islands, and flowering meadows were also balm to every aching joint.

Mount Banner and Thousand Island Lake

We did finally settle on a camp spot. Unfortunately, on the first night we could see a couple of other nearby camps, but on the second night they had all moved on. We also discovered we had somehow forgotten our tent stakes. We're still not sure how we managed to separate them from the rest of our tent, but we found them when we came home in our car camping supplies. A dozen rocks served to substitute, though the first night's wind was a bit noisier than it would have been.

The next day we slept in a bit, and then we hiked over to the Garnet Lake basin via a knapsack pass on the western end of Thousand Island Lake. The tarns just between Banner and Thousand Island were intensely blue, really pretty, and matching Mountain Bluebirds were fluttering over the meadows in small family groups. There was another really nice tarn above Garnet, and the meadows along its outlet were the best we saw on the trip - still green despite the late date. We found ourselves wandering out onto a bluff for a view of Garnet, and sat down for lunch.

Garnet Lake

After lunch, it was back over the knapsack pass and back to camp. There we took a bracing sponge-bath and relaxed and read to while away the evening. It's delightful to sit in the warm sun of a high mountain meadow and read a book.

The next day we had to get on the trail early to get home before it was too late, so we were up before the sun. It had been still overnight, and there was a little frost on the rain fly, and more under the groundcloth when we packed it away. Down by the lake, it coated the bristly grass and rimmed our footsteps in the mud and sand. Then the first light of the sun started painting Banner orange, and I ran down to the lake to snap a few pictures. Here's one:

Banner sunrise

We were on the trail not long after the sun started warming it, and we made good time to Clark Lakes. Then we took the longer trail around Gem, judging that, with our early start, we'd be able to see some new country. Rush Creek was particularly beautiful, and the views around Gem were also very nice. It is a shame about the dam, though.

Anyway, we took lunch at the far end of Agnew, again, and were back to our cars around 1:30. We stopped for some ice cream (for Libby) and root beer (for me) in June Lake, and then we were on our way home. And that was our backpacking trip!

Pictures from the weekend are at the normal place for pictures.

Arizona, the End

As the first light of morning snuffed out the desert stars in the skies over the eastern Chiricahuas, I awoke to a pre-dawn chorus of owls. Whiskered Screech-Owls' toots competed with the deep hoots of a Great Horned Owl, and a nearby "Mountain" Northern Pygmy-Owl joined in with its repetitive whistles, its doubled accent betraying its Mexican ties.

We didn't rush out on our last day in the Chiricahuas, but headed back over to South Fork for a hike before breaking down camp. It was a fun little hike up the deep canyon, but not very birdy. Overhead there was a constant stream of helicopter traffic; at the time we thought it was the Border Patrol, but later it turned out it was a fire crew working on a weak fire miles upstream.

As we neared the parking lot, we tracked down a calling male Trogon. It led us to its nest, or a potential nest site, anyway, which was pretty cool. As we were watching the bird, a couple from the Central California coast came over to get a look, and mentioned that they'd just seen a Montezuma Quail up the road a short way.

Now, we very much wanted to see a Montezuma Quail. Unfortunately, that's difficult to do, requiring a lot of luck and patience. These birds' primary defensive strategy is to hide. They crouch motionless and let their cryptic plumage blend in with the oak leaves and grass-stems that litter the ground where they live. The grassy habitat they favor consists of clumps of foot-tall bunch grass, that overhangs and provides the perfect hiding places for smallish ground-dwelling birds. Cornell's Birds of North America account remarks that one can hike for days in appropriate habitat and not see any quail, even when they are common.

Well, we can attest to that! We'd been looking all week, scanning roadsides constantly whenever we drove through likely habitat, scanning hillsides on all of our hikes, and generally keeping a sharp eye. The gentleman who had seen this bird didn't think we'd have much luck if we looked for it, as it had disappeared into a grassy area, but gave us directions anyway. We set out with high hopes.

We finally arrived at the spot, and nothing was stirring. After looking from the road, we set off into the woods, cautiously walking, eyes straining for a sign - a dark lump, a quivering feather, anything. Nothing, however, showed, and, undaunted, we crossed the creek and began searching the grass on the far side. We decided our only hope was to come upon the bird as it was crouching in the grass and get a look at it that way, so we split up - placing maybe six feet between us, and slowly, ever so slowly, we crept forward, eyes and ears peeled.

We nearly died the next moment when the quail, directly between us at our very feet, exploded into the air, furiously flapped its wings and then glided off up the hill and disappeared. Our brief look at a Montezuma Quail was of a dark feathered back receding quickly into the distance. We hunted for it up the hillside, but couldn't find it, again, and finally we headed back to our car. So, that's a bird we definitely would like to see again.

Packing up was once again accompanied by some ominous raindrops, but nothing came of it. Then it was back to Tucson, the first 20 or so miles on gravel roads. Between Wilcox and Tucson on the 10 we got hit by a mammoth thunderstorm that brought traffic to a crawl. Pretty fun to watch it coming.

After checking into our motel for the night, we headed up Mount Lemmon to go owling. We arrived on the lower slopes before dark, and enjoyed the views of the Santa Rita Mountains, where we'd stayed earlier on our trip, and distant downtown Tucson.

Libby on Mount Lemmon

Our primary target was Flammulated Owl, which we'd missed in the Chiricahuas, but we wouldn't have minded a Northern Saw-Whet, if it had called. Nothing was doing, though, in the high country. Multiple stops along the roadsides, and one trip down a gravel road in the dark, didn't find any. It was probably just a little too late in the year, but it was disappointing.

The next day we headed home after taking another swing at the Common Blackhawks at Aravaipa Canyon (this is the location we visited on our very first day). Once again, we saw many hawks, including juvenile Gray and Zone-tailed Hawks, but we weren't able to find any Blackhawks.

And, then, on our way home, it was 116 in Quartzite when we stopped for gas.

That's hot.

I think that's all, folks.

Pictures in the usual spot: Arizona 8.

Arizona 7

This was a pretty long trip, but we were approaching the end on our seventh day. After a brief breakfast, we went for a morning hike to the top of Barfoot Peak. This was prime territory for the Short-tailed Hawk family that's been hanging out in the Chiricahuas, though we knew it would be early to expect them to be up and about. Still, I hoped that we'd be early enough to avoid the daily lightning while we were on an exposed perch.

It was a lovely, easy hike to the top. It was only about a mile and a half, and we didn't see a whole lot of birds on the way up. There were some pretty flowers, though, and we came across a mixed flock of birds that hosted our first Olive Warblers for the trip, among other mountain gems. At the top there weren't any birds soaring, but there were enormous congregations of lady bugs, a neat look-out tower, and views up and down the mountain range. There was also rain. Not much, but there was enough build-up to make me uneasy. As a result, we didn't stay very long, and headed back down the mountain sooner than we had originally hoped.

That was okay, though, because it gave us an opportunity to wander off in the other direction on the trail past our campground. In less than a mile, we came to the beginning of a catastrophic burn area from 15 or so years ago. It was beautifully flourishing with dense undergrowth and wildflowers, with Cordilleran Flycatchers, Yellow-eyed Juncos and House Wrens doing their thing among the scraggly snags. There was also a small group of deer that wandered off in disdain at our appearance.

Anyway, it was a lot of fun, and gave us energy to head back down to our camp and pack up camp to move down the mountain. This process was given energy by the densely building clouds and the occasional drop of rain, and so it was with a sigh of relief that we packed the last of our gear in the car before the rain fell.

It fell with a fury on our drive down the mountain. We had just gotten out of the car to look at an interesting, but distant, Buteo that was perched off to the side of the road (a Short-tailed or Red-tailed Hawk?), when a few drops became sheets of falling water, and we scrambled desperately into the car. We crept our way down the mountain slowly through the torrent of rain, while rivulets of brown water hurried by us and over the precipitous drops delineating the path.

Of course, being the monsoon, it eased as quickly as it had begun, and we arrived in Cave Creek Canyon to blue skies and dry weather. We took another trip over to South Fork, this time enjoying long, if somewhat unsatisfying, looks at a beautiful male Elegant Trogon.

There were a couple of other noteworthy events for the day. One was that we went down to Portal as it got dark and got to see Elf Owls. Elf Owls are the smallest owls in North America, about the size of a sparrow, and incredibly cute. Thanks to the help of a resident birder, we got great looks at an adult that was hanging around a nest near the post office.

The other cool occasion was that a friendly photographer/biologist had set up a blanket and a light in a neighboring campsite to attract interesting insects to photograph. He pulled in many interesting beetles, moths, and arachnids, but the definite star of the show were the jewel-like Gloriosa beetles that he captured for photography. He lets them go after taking their picture, but it was a delight to see these green gems with brilliantly shining golden accents. They really sparkled in the spotlight. You can see some pictures here: BugGuide.net.

Pictures for the day: Arizona 7 on Flickr.

Arizona 6

Our sixth morning in Arizona, I wasn't feeling well. I had woken up in the middle of the night with a mysterious sharp pain my upper left side. I still don't know what caused it, I suspect it by sleeping in a strange position or something, but it made it hard to breathe, so I thought it best to head down the hill first thing to get out of the altitude.

That didn't make a big difference, but pain medication eventually did, and so we were able to have a pretty good time despite all that. Our first stop that morning was South Fork, in Cave Creek Canyon. Among birders, this place is famous as one of the easiest places in the United States to see Elegant Trogons. No such luck for us that morning, but we wandered around and enjoyed the birds we could see, while listening to a couple of out-of-sight Trogons croaking up the hillsides.

Anyway, we eventually despaired of finding anything, so we headed into Portal. This is a little town that's not much of a town, with a store, a post office, and a library, and scattered houses around in the desert scrub. From there we made our way to Stateline Road, driving down along the New Mexico border, and looking for Scaled Quail and Bendire's Thrashers. Highlights of the drive included a Tarantula we saw walk from one state to the other, and a Scaled Quail perched up on a fence post.

Tarantula!

On the way back we stopped in Portal for lunch at the store, which is also a restaurant, and then headed back to South Fork to check out the action. We were strolling about the parking area, trolling for Trogons, when we heard some excited Mexican Jays yapping in the distance. We carefully approached the angry mob, alert for any possibility, but were puzzled because we couldn't see anything. We could tell it was something on the ground, though, and by carefully observing with our binoculars we finally picked out a snake. The jays were harassing it mercilessly, hopping around it, angrily pecking the ground and throwing leaves in the air, while the snake turned from one jay to another, threatening to strike. Our first thought was that it was a rattlesnake, but we were able to figure out later that it was a Gopher Snake. Still, it was a pretty cool experience.

That afternoon we made our way up to Barfoot Park, a meadow in the high Chiricahuas, in hopes of finding a Short-tailed Hawk. This tropical hawk used to be found only in Florida in the U.S., but has recently begun to breed in the mountains of southeastern Arizona, too. We missed the species in Florida, and so had hopes of finding it here. At first we didn't find any, though we enjoyed exploring the park. Overhead Turkey Vultures and Zone-tailed Hawks rode the afternoon thermals, and down below there was luxurious green grass, wildflowers, and more.

Zone-tailed Hawk

As we returned to our car, we picked out a distant raptor riding slowly down some thermals over a peak to our north. We set up our scope as quick as whiskers, and squinted into its eye-piece. Sure enough, it was a Short-tailed Hawk, in all its pale glory. Hurrah! We were able to watch it sink slowly down for several minutes before it passed behind the forest encircling the park, and it was with great satisfaction that we headed back to camp. Along the way we were pleased to see a family of wild turkeys, and also pleased to find a pretty little patch of flowers that was swarming with butterflies.

Libby took this nice picture of a Pacuvius Duskywing nectaring along the flower patch.

So, despite its difficult beginning, it turned out to be a great day, after all!

Pictures on Flickr, of course: Arizona 6.

Arizona Five

The main reason we went to Arizona this time was to get to the Chiricahua Mountains. This is the largest of the Madrean Sky Island mountain ranges in Southeastern Arizona, and also the furthest away, as it runs along close to the New Mexican border. It's not somewhere we can easily visit in a short weekend, so we took the full week in order to make it out there. We were not disappointed.

There is an extensive high country in the Chiricahuas, and there are roads that take you right up into it. Lush forests of Douglas-fir, Chihuahuan Pine, and Apache Pine and occasional Englemann Spruces coat its undulating peaks, and you can actually feel the altitude up above 8,000 feet. Within the forests, Mexican Chickadees are added to other high Madrean species, as well as with more familiar birds of the western mountain forests like Steller's Jays and Pygmy Nuthatches. But the Chickadees are only found here in Arizona, and only in two smaller mountain ranges in New Mexico in the United States. Adding to the mountain ranges appeal is Cave Creek Canyon, a beautiful red-walled crack in the eastern side that hosts large and easily accessible Trogon populations. All in all, the mountains have an irresistible appeal to birders!

First thing in the morning, though, we headed for the San Pedro River. A Green Kingfisher had been seen there on and off for months, and we wanted to try for it and to enjoy the local riparian avifauna. We didn't have any luck with the kingfisher, but we did see lots of Yellow-breasted Chats, heard Gray Hawks, saw Vermilion Flycatchers, and had a grand old time. Best of all, though, was a perplexing Yellow-throated Vireo that was most definitely out of place. Unfortunately, we were unable to photograph it. Still, definitely the rarest bird we found on our trip.

Next stop between Sierra Vista and the Chircahuas was at the Wilcox "lakes", where shorebirds can be found. This is not much but a muddy puddle in the middle of the desert, but it netted us a good number of shorebirds and a few species of ducks. The highlight was a group of our first ever Baird's Sandpipers, which is an expected migrant in the western deserts but rare out here on the coast. We also got to study a big mixed flock of Phalaropes to our heart's content, struggling only with triple digit temperatures and distorting heat waves.

From Wilcox it's a fairly short drive into the mountains. Our first stop was Coronado National Monument for the scenery. It was pretty cool, both literally and figuratively, as we exited our car at the visitor's center in a torrential downpour! It soon eased up, though, and we felt comfortable driving up to an exposed overlook in the as-soon again sunny conditions. Here, strange bulgy spires of rocks have eroded from the hillsides, standing like a silent army among its scrubby forests of oak, pinyon, and juniper.

Chiricahua National Monument

After soaking in the sights, it was back down the mountain and then up to Rustler Park, our campground for the evening. Along the way we were hoping to check out undeveloped Pinery Campground for Mexican Chickadees, as someone we met recommended the spot for that species. Unfortunately, our arrival there neatly coincided with the forest receiving another thorough soaking from the erstwhile monsoon, and when despite our waiting it never eased up into anything lighter than a drizzle, our half-hearted efforts netted nothing more than some distant wet-sounded twitters in the high pines.

So, instead, we headed to our campsite, of which we had our pick, as we were the only people staying there both nights. Kind of eerie to be in a developed campground by yourselves, but we didn't mind the solitude. As we were mulling over which campsite to settle on, an enormous flock of Pygmy Nuthatches moved through in the trees. By thoroughly examining the flock we were able to pick out a couple of Mexican Chickadees. We got poor looks, but we'd see them again, though never low to the ground.

That night we made ourselves a warm dinner, had one of the local little White-tailed Deer come unnervingly close to us (we moved away to keep the picnic table between us and it, just in case), and adjusted to the deliciously cool temperatures of the mountains. Such a relief to have it be in the 40s at night instead of the 70s!

Pictures at Flickr: Arizona 5.

Arizona Four

The Huachuca mountains in southeastern Arizona is the premier hummingbird watching destination in the United States. Feeder stations in its oak and pine draped canyons can attract thirteen different species of hummingbirds at the same time, though the eight species we enjoyed on our fourth day in Arizona is more typical.

Our first stop, however, was not for hummingbirds, but for warblers. Target one was Virginia's Warbler, a twitchy sharp-billed little bird reminiscent of a pale Nashville's Warbler. It lives in dry mountain shrub habitats throughout the Great Basin, but we'd somehow never found it, yet. This time we were determined to, so I studied up on habitat requirements, we listened to its song, and we put our plan into action. We stopped repeatedly on our drive up Carr Canyon that morning to pause in the cool air and listen to the singing birds. Below, Sierra Vista sprawled in the San Pedro's river valley, Fort Huachuca's buildings nestled into the folds of the Huachucas north of us, and if you looked south with your binoculars it was easy enough to pick out the border wall running across the valley floor. Pretty good views, in other words.

We found our first Virginia's Warbler with a Black-throated Gray Warbler at the top of the mountain in a pine-oak-chaparral ecotone. Hurrah!

We then drove, with stops, down to the end of the road. Along the way we enjoyed Buff-breasted Flycatchers, Greater Pewees, Yellow-eyed Juncos, and numerous Spotted Towhees. We then took a fun hike around the mountain to the upper reaches of Ramsey Canyon. One highlight of the hike was the blooming agave along the way. The nectar-rich flowers attracted a lovely variety of beautiful birds like Black-headed Grosbeaks, Virginia's Warblers, and Western Tanagers.

After our hike, we drove over to Miller Canyon to check out the hummingbird show and to try for the Spotted Owls that have been periodically seen a mile or two up the canyon's trail. We had great success with both. We were far from confident that we would see the owls. They move around a lot, and while they stick within a half mile or so stretch of the canyon, I felt that they might be anywhere in the dense oaks, maples and pines that crowded the steep canyon walls. So, we walked in some small anxiety, looking for advertised landmarks and scanning the branches of the trees. Right when we first were able to pick out "split rock", I turned to say something to Libby and saw the owls sitting a few feet away from us, almost at eye level. It was an incredible moment.

Mexican Spotted Owls

We eventually took their leave, and with thankful hearts made our way lightly back down the canyon. There we took our seats at the feeders and watched the hummingbirds. The feeders kept by the Beatty's are, in my humble opinion, the most pleasurable feeders in Arizona. All of them are very nice to visit, but I like the Beatty's feeders are on an oak-covered hill, and it seems like every time we're there it's cloudy or rainy or otherwise just pleasant. We saw lots of neat birds this time, including Berylline and White-eared Hummingbirds, which are regular but unusual in the United States.

White-eared Hummingbird

That night we had dinner at a "family restaurant" in Arizona. We enjoy patronizing little independent diner-like establishments like these, and feel comfortable and happy reviewing the day and writing up our day list over greasy, homelike food.

That evening we went back to lower Miller Canyon, where, right after dusk turned to night, we saw our first Western Screech-Owls. We'd heard them before here in California, but this was the first time we were able to actually get good looks at them.

Pictures from the day are collected here: Arizona Four.