Two Moments

Yesterday the wind gusted so, that I stayed in the house all day, even though the sun was shining. When I stepped out to refill the bird bath, the wind had such a bite in it I was reluctant to venture forth again. And so it was I spent the day entering data into eBird, which I finally took the time to sign up with. Since I keep bird lists of all my birding expeditions it wasn’t hard for me to find data, it was just hard to take a break. With the information I have entered so far I have discovered that since moving to Arizona I have seen 111 birds!

After a long day at the computer the sun finally set and I went about the house shutting the shutters and turning on the lights. As I went to close the shutter by the front door my eyes caught a movement on the other side of the glass. I stopped and peered between the slats as a little Rock Wren hopped and bobbed about along the sidewalk leading to the front door. My house is of the style where the garage sticks out on one side and the front bedroom on the other forming a sort of tunnel or hallway to the front door. Here the little gray bird searched the perimeter for crickets. He hopped towards me, eyes alert, pointing his thin beak up and down the walls and along the cracks. Its fluffy under tail covets bounced with each step like a ballerina’s tutu or a square dancer’s petticoats. I watched with delight for the few minutes the bird was there, and then he hopped around the corner and was gone.

Just before I went to bed I stepped out the front door into the cold of the night to see if I could find the moon. I had heard on the news that Mars and the moon were going to be right next to each other tonight and I thought I would like to observe that phenomena. Well, I should have stepped out sooner, for in the clear diamond strewn sky the moon was not to be found. Then I noticed a bit of a glow behind one of the rooftops to the west. I walked down the sidewalk to get a better view and there dangling over the desert was a Cheshire cat smile glowing tangerine. I suppose Mars was somewhere around, but all I saw was the soft glow of an almost half moon right before it dipped below the western horizon. I went back into the house with a smile on my face, glad that I had taken a moment to step out the front door.

Once inside it occurred to me that the two best moments of the day were the Rock wren and the moon. I may have 111 birds so far for Arizona alone, but knowing that did not make the moon more beautiful or the Rock Wren more sweet. It was those two moments when I paused to see what nature had to offer me that really made my day.

Sunday with the Birds: a photo essay

We started the day driving to Madera Canyon. On the way we saw this Cooper's Hawk perched on the wires on Sahuarita Rd. Gus stopped and got this picture with his new Nikon D80.

The clown-faced acorn woodpecker is always a favorite at the Madera Picnic Area.

In Madera canyon we saw Bridled titmice, Acorn Woodpeckers, Gray-headed Juncos, a Hutton's vireo, a Ruby-crowned kinglet, a white-breasted nuthatch and Mexican jays. This was the best photo of the jay Gus got while it was feeding near the gift shop.

At the Proctor Trailhead parking area the mequite trees are burnt black from a fire a few years ago. The ladderback woodpeckers are finding fine dining in the burnt wood. We saw a male and a female. Here you can see the male drumming in the wood.

I like the patterns in nature so I snapped this picture of the sycamore tree near Madera Creek with my Nikon Coolpix. The bare white branches look like polished bones to me.

These are the colors of Madera Creek.

Gus pulled over the car to call his folks as we were leaving Madera Canyon. While he was on the phone a flock of White-crowned sparrows flew into a bush right outside my window. I grabbed the D80 from the back seat and snapped this picture.

What does the Cooper's hawk think when you get too close? "I'll fly away!"

Exploration

It was finally warm enough today to open windows and turn the heat down, so in the afternoon I shut off the computer and headed for the wash with the new camera. I hoped to capture a photo of a Black-throated Sparrow, and maybe see a new species. Instead of trying to climb through the barbed wire fence, I walked up the end of the street and climbed down the steep slope near the culvert. From here I headed south up the wash to territory I’ve only walked on one time before.

It is 4 p.m. when I head out, but already the sun is low in the sky. The whole west side of the wash is already deep in shadow, and I can see the darkness creeping towards me. Undaunted, I keep walking and hoping for some new bird. The birds are few and far between, however. Is this unusual for this time of day or year? Since I am new here, I don’t know. And since there has been a lot of road construction gong on lately, I have no idea how many species have been scared away. As for the sparrows, they are playing hide and seek with me, flying up like musical notes from the desert and settling behind cactus and brush, or diving into the grass. I see them briefly, but as soon as I raise the camera they are gone. There is a mixed flock here of Brewer’s Sparrows and Black-throated Sparrows and they are winning at this game we are playing.

I am frustrated by the crunch of my shoes in the sand. It’s impossible to take a stealthy step. Here in the quiet of the canyon my steps seem to roar in my ears. I take a few steps, then pause, take a few more, then pause. I am listening for movement, song, anything. I am wondering how the Native Americans got about without shoes to protect their feet from thorns and spines. Perhaps I need a pair of leather moccasins. Perhaps they will offer protection and silent steps.

As I walk up the wash I can see how the channel has changed over time. Deep cliffs are cut on the east and west rims. Spread out between these canyon rims are the deposits of numerous storms. All manner of trees, cacti and scrub have sprouted on soil deposited hundreds of years ago. Where the new channel cuts through I walk on deep sand and gravel. To the edges of this large boulders and rocks are deposited. I am amazed at the colors of stone, from normal string gray and brown, to green, purple, red and white. I need a geologist to explain it all to me. I find one mesquite tree grasping the cliff desperately. Its exposed roots twist and writhe as they grasp the eroding soil. The roots bulge like muscles on a weight-lifter and the tree still stands. I wonder how old it is, and how much longer it can last.

A few mourning doves and Gila woodpeckers fly over my head. The sparrows continue to elude me in the grass. A Costa’s hummingbird scolds me from an ocotillo, but that is all I see. I’m starting to wonder how I will get out of this deep canyon, when I find the trail up to the eastern rim. It’s a bit steep and bumpy but I make it and I feel like I am on top of the world again. I gaze out over the desert sloping away to Green Valley and Sahuarita, when I am startled to hear voices. I swing around to discover 2 men standing on a mound of dirt with a dune buggy parked nearby. I see the road that’s been newly excavated as development pushes into this part of the canyon. It was fun to feel like I was alone in the world in a wild place, but the truth is this is very tame, and I am close to home. I hurry back down the trail, feeling a little sad. Suddenly a desert cottontail is startled by my footsteps and scurries off the path. Then I hear the yipping of a coyote, frantic and wild across the wash. It’s not too tame yet.

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.”

Evening Owl

I’ve named the owl Piper because it lives in the pipe. The best info from Audubon says to leave it be and let nature teach it not to nest in drainage pipes. So, I will enjoy my owl as long as I can. I saw Piper again tonight while walking the dog and I tried once again to snap a picture. This is the best I could get with this camera. Hopefully Piper will still be there in the morning when Gus can snap a shot with his new Nikon D80.

We had a beautiful sunset tonight, and my little camera had no trouble capturing the beauty of the desert sky in winter. It was 73 today and it will be in the low 70’s again tomorrow but then a “winter” storm comes in and the temperature will drop to the 50’s with rain expected on Sunday.

Burrowing Owl Confirmed

There is no longer any doubt that I have seen a burrowing owl. I decided to look in the drainage pipe in the wash this morning and sure enough, there he was. The pictures are poor quality because I’m still using my Coolpix digital and I didn’t want to get too close and disturb the bird. I have yet to learn how to use the new camera but hopefully Gus and I will be able to capture a better photo sometime this weekend. My biggest concern is that when it rains that wash will fill up and wash the poor bird out. I have contacted Tucson Audubon about this and am waiting for a reply. We are expecting a good rain on Sunday. Still, I am so thrilled to have a burrowing owl living in the wash next to my house!