5 Days of Birding: Day 3 Sycamore Canyon Wash

On Saturday afternoon Kathryn and I had a meeting to attend, so Saturday morning we headed out to the big wash across the street. We are late getting out the door and as we walk down the driveway the air is scented with the blooming sweet acacia trees that live in my front yard. Their blossoms are bright yellow puff balls that glow against the cerulean blue sky like a thousand miniature suns. However, the real sun is already beating down on us with a vengeance, but a cool breeze riffles our hair as we access the trail at the top of the cul de sac. I want to show Kathryn Sunset Point, which is a spot high above the wash where I can see far out to the west towards Green Valley and Sahuarita. The scarred mountainside from the Coppermine is visible, but so is the beautiful Sonoran Desert. From this vantage point I can look down into the wash or across the landscape to watch the sun as it sets in the west. Here, too, are where the Saguaro Sentinels stand and I search the many holes for signs of the purple martins that nested here last year. At that time the houses had not been built this far up the road, but now the cul de sac is full and the martin homes are empty. Are they scared off by the close proximity of humans, or have the just not returned yet this year? I will keep watch over the next 2 months to see.

Some improvements have been made to the trail with some access points landscaped and inviting you in for a stroll. I haven’t been out here in awhile and I am delighted to discover that steps have been added to a steep slope washed out by last year’s Monsoon. Right by these steps someone has placed a bird feeder shaped like a cat’s head in a tree. An unknown sparrow hopped out the opening with a small seed in its beak, took a look at us unimposing women and hopped back in for more. Simultaneously I realize that I do not recognize this sparrow species, and I forgot my camera! We watch the little sparrow through our binoculars trying desperately to memorize all the field marks: un-streaked breast, dark line from the corner of the eye, rusty cap, but not solid. Darn! He flew away! Was it a chipping sparrow? It didn’t look quite right. A rufous winged? No. It only had one malar strip, not two. Could it be a rufous crowned? I wish it was, but they are really secretive and shy and I have never seen one. It’s hard to believe one would be at a bird feeder. Well, since I am not a sparrow expert yet and I didn’t get a photo, we will never know. We walk down the steps and head right back home for the camera since we are not far away.

We cross the street and head into the wash once again. Just a few days ago I discovered the new access through the barbed wire fence that was put up last fall. A”Y” shaped opening has been created allowing us to walk through, yet still restricting motorized vehicles. A great compromise! We pass through this opening into another world.

Kathryn and I headed up the wash to see if we can find any new birds. Gambel’s quail are slinking and calling down among the scrub brush. We find a Verdin and some black-throated sparrows. A tiny gray bird flits among the mesquite branches. We both try to fix our binoculars on it but it keeps the twigs between us and it. I catch a glimpse of a rusty butt, Kathryn a peek at its head. Flash! Rusty upper-tail coverts! Flash of gray, flash, Streak! Darn you bird, stay still! But that cinnamon colored rump is distinctive I find out later, a Lucy’s warbler and a life bird for us both! No photos however. That thing moved too fast and in such dense cover.

We wander up through gravelly sand, then turn and head back down the other side of the wash. Three ravens fly overhead annoying a turkey vulture, but it is a lazy game. Then we hear and spot a crested flycatcher with a rusty tail. Every time we get a clear view it flies farther down the wash. I am never close enough for a clear shot with the camera. We debate about whether it is an ash-throated or a brown-crested. I had mostly seen brown-crested flycatchers here last year, but would that hold true for this year? I will have to wait and see. Thrashers, cactus wrens, and Gila woodpeckers are the most abundant birds we see today and I didn’t get a photo of one of them. So much for going back for the camera! Still, I am glad to discover I am no longer fenced out of the wash. I can just walk right in. We counted 15 birds in all but we have big plans for tomorrow!

Evening Shadows

Though it was such a beautiful day here yesterday I got caught up inside working at the computer. By 5 p.m. I’d had enough and decide to go for a walk. I crossed the street to the trails and headed for the fence. After consulting the Sycamore Canyon trail map I discovered that the trail went right through this spot. This is part of what we pay for with our HOA fees, so, not to be deterred; I climbed through the barbed wires and stood in the wash once again.

The setting sun cast long shadows and golden light around me. It is so quiet at this time of the day. Not a leaf twitches. Not a peep is heard. The only sound is the crunch of gravel beneath my feet as I head south up the wash. The rays of the setting sun play through the branches of trees and scrub. It paints gold onto the clay walls before me. All the rocks, stones, sand and saguaro bones take on the golden cast until it appears as if I stand in a glided outdoor palace. The shadows cast by the tree branches create a black filigree against the burnished walls. I walk forward with my footsteps pounding in my ears.


I see the four Saguaro Sentinels towering above me on my left. The Purple Martian holes are vacant now. I will have to watch for their return. I wonder if they will return, now that there are new houses so close by. I catch a movement off to my right from the corner of my eye. Quietly I turn and focus my binoculars in the fading light.

Little sparrows are flitting about in the brush. They dart behind the twigs and dive into the grasses. I step cautiously forward and finally fix on one. It is a black-throated sparrow hopping around the base of a prickly pear cactus. I smile to see his black throat outlined in white. He is a striking bird for a sparrow. So many sparrows are hard to identify, that birders frequently call them LBJ’s, or Little Brown Jobs. This bird is a uniform brownish-gray with a white eye line, white whisker marks, and a black throat that extends partway down the breast. It has a silvery voice to match its distinguished attire. He is the gentleman of the desert and his voice the song of the desert bell choir.

Of course, I would love to find the elusive five-striped sparrow. I have only read of this bird in my bird guides. According to the books, the five-striped sparrow in a rare visitor to a few rugged canyons near the Mexican border and mostly seen in spring and summer. This sparrow looks similar to the black-throated sparrow, but without the extensive black on its throat and with an additional white stripe that splits the throat patch in two. Thus the five stripes are 3 white and 2 black. It’s highly unlikely that I will find one here, but I keep hoping, so I examine each black-throat carefully.



I stand in the wash where I saw the sparrows and look off to the south where the last rays of the sun tint the limestone mine on the slopes of the Santa Ritas pink. I think that it may be called Helvetia mine, but I am not sure of this. Another research project for me I suppose, but nothing can take away the silent beauty of this moment, this ephemeral peace that I carry with me out of the wash and home.

Don't Fence Me In

A warm gray day awaits me this morning. “The warm before the storm” as the saying goes. While the yard is full of birds, the burrowing owl is nowhere to be seen. We hurry through our morning preparations and head for Saguaro National Park East; I with my new binoculars and Gus with his new Nikon D80 SLR. We soon discover we are beset by what I’ve decided to call the three W’s: Warm Winter Weekend. That means the parks are full of winter weekenders drawn out by the warm weather. The parking lots are full, the streets are full, the trails are full, and the birds are all hiding! We only saw 12 species at Saguaro East, so we left and decided to try Agua Caliente Park.

Agua Caliente is a true desert Oasis on the northeast side of Tucson. Due to the year-round spring, palm trees grow in profusion and the birds there are a mixture of the typical desert species and various waterfowl. We were able to see Gila woodpeckers, cactus wrens and a roadrunner in the same place as a blue heron, American Widgeons, ring-necked ducks and Northern pintails. But Agua Caliente is full of people, kids, and dogs. We take a few shots but decide to leave. I’ve recorded 19 species here.

We spend the afternoon at home, then take a walk just before sunset. There is still no sign of the owl. Perhaps he has moved on. Still, I was hoping I would see him for more than just a day, and I was really hoping that Gus would be able to take a photograph of him. Instead, I convince Gus to come to the desert and see the wash with me. We cross the street and pass between the houses. I am getting excited, for Gus has never come out to the wash with me. I am eager to show it to him. This is where Liz and I picked all the prickly pears for our jelly last summer. This is where I saw the Gila monster I tell him. And then I stop dumbfounded. Stretching across the trail that leads to the wash is a brand new barbed wire fence!

I don’t know what to think. My heart fills with many emotions. I’m disappointed and angry. “NO!” I cry. “NO! They can’t do this! When did they do this!” My mind races as if this is incomprehensible. How can there be a fence here?

I know I don’t own this land, but easy access to the desert and the wash is one of the reasons I like living here. It never occurred to me that I would be fenced out of it. I felt like this was my special place where I could flee civilization and be alone with the birds, the bugs and the lizards. Now what will I do?

Gus and I head for the upper trail along the backs of the houses. Here we can see into everyone’s backyards and they can see us. Some yards have dogs that bark furiously at us—not a peaceful walk by any means and certainly not conducive to wildlife watching. Finally we are past the houses at the end of the cul-de-sac and I am pleased to see that so far there is not a fence here. But I fear it will come one day. For now I will have to access the wash from this location and it will require some scrambling down the steep bank.

Gus and I head up a trail along the top of the wash. By now the sun is setting and the sky is aflame with color. The thin blanket of clouds reflects the sinking fire. It seems every 10 seconds the colors change. In the west it is as if the Golden Fleece has been hung in the sky. Then, as the sun sinks lower, it throws color and light across the sky till we are surrounded with shades of pink, lavender, gold, and blue. Mt. Fagan catches a bit of the rosy hue and blushes with warmth. Saguaros appear as sentinels silhouetted against the sky. Looking through the branches of a creosote bush towards the west looks like a black filigree screen in front of a blazing fire. It is a burning bush in the desert and God is speaking in the wind.

All around us the soft voice of the desert whispers. Here we are past the fences and human habitation. Here the desert is open and inviting. Here it is calling us to wildness and freedom. I need this wildness, this open space, not only for my feet, but for my heart and mind also. I don’t like barriers. I can’t be contained. I must fling my soul into the sky and see where it lands. Perhaps that is one reason why I like birds so much. To a bird, a fence is but another thing to fly over or perch on. A bird is not contained by a fence or a block wall and I want to plead with the universe, “Don’t fence me in! Give my heart wings and let my spirit soar.”