Month: May 2019

Today in Tennessee I saw mountains for the first time since New Mexico. The more important milestone was an American Goldfinch I heard singing as I walked back to my hotel yesterday for number 400. Now it comes down to the final one hundred. Well, make that 99, I heard a Scarlet Tanager from the parking lot of this hotel in Virginia. Another average hotel with below average customer service. What else is new? Memo to service providers: if you fail to provide good customer service, I tell the whole world. I can do that very easily. You have to ask yourself one question: “Is it worth it?” I know you get paid either way but you’re losing business. Go the extra mile!

Tomorrow I’m in Pennsylvania and then the next day I arrive in the refreshing Lakes Region of New Hampshire. My first stop will be Meadowbrook in Gilford, just a few minutes from my apartment, for a long-needed dose of good old rock ‘n roll.

At last, a birding day. A visit to the Wapanocca National Wildlife Refuge near Marion, Arkansas was only 20 miles out of my way. Since I only had to travel 100 miles today, I could take my time and relax. The woods were busy with Prothonotary Warblers, White-eyed Vireos, and Carolina Chickadees. My primary target was Acadian Flycatcher (396),which was easily found and turned out to be common. I now have a good chance of seeing all 11 North American members of genus Empidonax. Most of this morning’s birding was by car. A loud hiss stopped me. At least two fledgling Barred Owls (397) were vocalizing, followed by one loud hoot from an adult. I managed to see one of the chicks before it moved away. Kentucky Warblers (398) sang in the woods as expected here but I couldn’t get off the poison-ivied road to get in there to see them. Canada Geese (399) honked from the lake. What will be number 400?

Along the way, I heard and saw a few of these:

And many of these:

Check-in at my not-so-Super 8 in Jackson,Tennessee (who was it who said never stay in a motel with a number in the name?) was slow and the clerk was humorless. I couldn’t get her to crack a smile. She looked at my driver’s license and said “Arizona. This must be like spring time for you.” It was 93 Tennessee degrees out. “It’s nice and cool here,” I deadpanned. Now I’ve got her laughing. I’ve got a key, a room, directions to the ice machine. I’m only here for another 15 hours. How bad could it be?

Singing birds along the interstate yesterday in Oklahoma got me Dickcissel (394). I’ll see some tomorrow, they are right in the field next to my hotel. I would have gotten this one in the Dry Tortugas except that just as I put my glasses on the two birds at the top of the bush, they flew off. Today was the first of what will be a string of 300 mile days, slow and easy, three hours in the morning, one hour lunch break, two more in the afternoon. That gets me 300 miles. I left Oklahoma at 7:30 am so I had time for a one hour birding break at a rest area somewhere in Arkansas. I haven’t been to Arkansas since I drove cross-country in 1977. As I pulled into the rest stop I was disappointed the trees were almost all pine. I was hoping for some southern hardwood denizens like Acadian Flycatcher and Yellow-throated Warbler. Almost an hour of searching failed to turn up anything new until a small bird flew in to the tree in front of me. As it came out, it was upside down with a brown cap – Brown-headed Nuthatch (395) -a bird I searched hard for in Florida and gave up on. But there it was!

I ate lunch, put away the binoculars, and walked while eating an apple. A gentleman walking a dog came up to me and said: “You’re a bird watcher, right?” “Yes,” indeed. “My wife recognizes you,” he started, “she met you last year and told you how she makes birds out of acrylics (or did he say styrofoam, or maybe it was matchsticks).” Huh? What’s this? Let’s see, he’s not looking for money, he doesn’t have a knife. Maybe he’s legit. So I had to ask the only question you could ask, so I popped it: “How does she know it’s me?” Without any hesitation I got: “Oh she recognizes a familiar face alright.” That clinched it. She knows me. I have now reached birder celebrity status. I can’t go anywhere without being stopped on the street. Fame can strike when you least expect it. They now know me coast to coast. I mean, if they recognize me at a truck stop in Arkansas….

Tomorrow is a birding day at a nearby wildlife refuge. I only need to drive 100 miles afterward so I can spend all morning in a hardwood bottomland forest along the Mississippi River. Targets are Acadian Flycatcher and some southern warblers. I’ll be the guy wearing the fake glasses, nose, and mustache disguise.

Today I logged another 380 miles from Albuquerque, NM to Shamrock, Texas. The forecast was for thunderstorms, heavy at times. I felt it coming as I passed the transition zone from 54 degree Tucumcari, NM to 80 degrees and humid in Amarillo, Texas. Those are the ingredients for stormy high plains weather. But I stayed high and dry the whole way. I know I’m making progress east bound when I hear Chimney Swifts and Blue Jays. As I entered Shamrock off I-40 I knew I was entering a lucky place. In fact, I knew it before I got here. Last week I booked a room at the Shamrock Inn. If ever there was the classic Route 66 slice of history. First, the picture:

After struggling with the key (not a plastic card), I pushed hard and the door opened. Beautiful! Spotless! Spacious! Beautifully appointed! Modern – TV, refrig, microwave. The price? $100? No! $75? Uhuh! Fifty? Lower. How ’bout thirty-five dollars! Home-made breakfast included. On Route 66. How lucky can you get. I iced down the beer, ran the crossword puzzles, and then left for supper. Hey, what’s that flying by? A raptor with pointed wings and a tail that is narrow at the base and flared out at the end fighting the wind- Mississippi Kite (393)! I pulled over and five more came by, all flying low into the wind, southbound over Route 66. What luck! A great bird and a piece of the most historical highway there is all in one. That saves me a trip to St. David, Arizona where I searched for one last week.

Next stop was Big Vern’s Steak House. More classic small town-out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere-Route 66 Americana. My waitress was Tina. She was a large woman whose face reminded you of a Halloween pumpkin long after Halloween. As nice and kind as pie. That’s good luck. I’ll take a Tina over your young blond with long hair and a short skirt any day. When she asked me what I’d like to drink, I didn’t hesitate to order a Lone Star beer – how I knew that name I’ll never know, but what else could you order at Big Vern’s. “Before I order, what is that place across the street with the music coming out?” I asked. “You mean Spinnin’ Jenny’s.” “Yes.” Tina hesitated for a second, then honestly confessed: “Ah don’t really know. They play music.” “But you don’t have to go inside to hear it,” I injected. “No you don’t,” Tina solemnly affirmed. Meal was ordered and served and the mystery remains. Once again I could not understand anything my fellow patrons were saying. And I don’t mean they had Irish brogues. Panhandle Texan I call it. If they were discussing gossip and secrets, they are safe with me.

Tomorrow’s forecast is for a low chance of thunderstorms and mostly smooth sailing into Oklahoma. The luck of the Shamrock.

I was gone for two days and on Friday a great bird for the list showed up here – Tufted Flycatcher in Huachuca Canyon. But I can’t be everywhere at once. Many thanks to Dave and Diana for the alert. No one saw it yesterday so today was a good day to bird locally and so I looked for something else close by. I thought I would have a good chance at Varied Bunting in Upper Escapule Wash. I didn’t get 50 yards when I found one singing (392):

That doesn’t leave much else around here. So when the well is dry it’s time to move on – Wednesday I leave for the East Coast. I can get a few along the way and I’m hoping for 50 in New Hampshire. If so, I will be within striking distance of 500.

In baseball! Before I left for Portal I said I’d be thrilled with 6 out of my wish list of 10. But in fact I’m thrilled with these three since two of them were the prime targets for the trip and were far from a sure thing. I first stopped at what was Dave Jasper’s yard, now Rodrigues’, to hope for Varied Bunting, seen there just the day before. The best I could do was this Crissal Thrasher, a reliable place for this species.

Next stop was the George Walker House, a B&B in nearby Paradise. I have to wonder about these little towns that call themselves, Paradise, Eden, or Utopia. Whenever I go there I fail to see the magic the town namer must have found. Instead, I got a good bird. This is the only reliable place in Southeastern Arizona for Juniper Titmouse, and since I’m unlikely to see it any where else, it was important I find it. Within minutes of arriving along one came (389), staying low to the ground and allowing no pictures. Twenty minutes later the proprietor arrived and told me it wouldn’t likely return soon.

After lunch in Portal I scoped out Herb Martyr Road where I would go later that evening. A nice meal in Portal was capped off with a front row seat at a blues concert, no cowboy hat needed:

I do like Portal. No traffic light, no gas stations, no national chains. Not too much of anything:

By dusk, the day’s wind died, the full moon rose, and it was time for some owling. I parked by the American Museum of Natural History’s Southwestern Research Station and walked up Herb Martyr Road. I stopped when I heard a repeated “Hoot!” I listened carefully and could sometimes hear: “hoot-hoot HOOT.” My prime target: Flammulated Owl (390). Two other owlers came along, heard it, played their tape for this species, then saw me standing there. “Just listen!”, I wanted to say. And listen we did, as it continued it’s call until we left. I wasn’t sure I could get this bird without tape play back but I wanted to try and there it was. On the way back to Portal I got out to walk in the calm cool air with Mexican Whip-poor-will and Elf Owl singing continuously. The cliff walls in Cave Canyon lit by moonlight were ghostly.

Today I drove up to Barfoot Park for a shot at Short-tailed Hawk and Olive-sided Flycatcher but instead I saw these more expected species: https://ebird.org/view/checklist/S56465514

Time for a sure thing at Willcox, and this time, the sure thing was sure, Wilson’s Phalarope (391), thanks to John Barthelme, who had to point them out since I drove right past them. My third and final phalarope of the year.

And now for the trip’s grand finale. The quest for something bigger than us all. I saw something all of you deep down have always wanted to see but never have, probably to avoid shame and embarrassment. But not me. As I drove I-10 and read all those billboards, I resisted temptation no longer. I had to do it, I had to see it, I could wait no more. Yes, you guessed right, I saw “The Thing”!!!!!! Admit it, you’ve always wanted to. But I did it. I can now say I have seen “The Thing, The Mystery of the Desert”. The best part is that I was assured I could take all the pictures I wanted! And so I did! After you travel through a lengthy and peculiar “museum”, you enter a special, dimly lit room. This is it. Your spine tingles, your eyes itch and water. Only feet away, behind a rope barrier, hermetically sealed in a glass case, undoubtedly protected by alarms, you see it with your own two eyes. So now, Ladies and Gentlemen, for the first time in history, a published photograph of The Thing (small children should be led away):

Words cannot express the awe, the enormity, the wonder. But I’ll try: I wonder why I did this?

I only needed to search for one bird today and it was a sure thing. First I went to Huachuca Canyon on the fort but the gate was closed. I’ve never seen Huachuca Canyon closed. I parked and walked in a little ways and within minutes heard then saw a Sulphur-bellied Flycatcher (388). When I think of sulphur I think of an odor, not a color. But all the other names – yellow-bellied, streaked, ruddy-tailed – were all taken.

I wanted a better picture and to go for a walk so I visited the Nature Conservancy’s Ramsey Canyon Preserve. I got my better picture, a pair caught in the act of nest building:

We didn’t see them carry the material to a nest but they use cavities in sycamores, like the tree they are perched in. A true Southeastern Arizona specialty; if you want to see this bird on a Big Year, you must come here. But it’s hard to find one before mid-May so I gave it some time and waited for them to come back. This doesn’t leave much for me to search for around here. Cassin’s Vireo is a hex bird for me so I’ll probably have to wait until fall. So it’s time to hit the road – tomorrow I’m off to Portal with a wish list of about 10 birds. If I get 6 I’ll be thrilled. Let’s see how I do.

After sifting through still more sacks and sacks of mail, I found at least 2 winners to the puzzler. One comes from a Peter Bower and the other from the wily Al Maley, that inventor of the world’s first Starling Decapitator and various other backyard gimcracks, “all sure to be the wave of the future.” Both contestants simply submitted an answer, “$6.70”, without showing their work. If they had, it would look like this: the cheese omelette goes for $7.45 and the bacon and cheese omelette costs $8.45, so the bacon must cost a dollar. Since the bacon omelette costs $7.70, subtract a dollar for just a plain omelette and it costs exactly six dollars and seventy cents. Many thanks to all who entered. Look for the next puzzler coming up soon.

The early bird gets the worm. I returned to Box Canyon today by 6:30 am to settle a score. I looked around at the upper cairn for 15 minutes but seeing nothing I went down to the lower cairn. Soon after getting out of the car I heard high thin chip notes near the road. I looked, and there it was, Five-striped Sparrow (387)! Soon it was joined by a second one and they both teed up right in front of me, 10 feet away. I focused on the closest of the two and here is that little beauty:

They both flew across the road together so with a good picture in hand I could now relax and just go birding so I headed over to nearby Florida Canyon to try to see the Black-capped Gnatcatcher I only heard back in January. On the way down Box Canyon, 200 – 300 yards above the bridge, I heard another Five-striped Sparrow singing. I stopped and watched it sing away from an ocotillo stalk. This must be the one guide Richard Fray saw a few days ago. He thinks there could be as many as 4 pairs now in Box Canyon. The only other place you can see this bird in North America is California Gulch. Always satisfying to get one on the rebound and a good one for the list.

I searched for the gnatcatcher or anything else noteworthy in Florida Canyon without luck. Speaking of luck. You have to ask yourself one question: “Do I feel lucky today?” Well, do ya? If so, we have a new puzzler, this one is gastronomical in nature. I hope you like eggs. I was recently traveling through a Western state when I stopped at an old-fashioned Western breakfast cafe, the kind where the waitress, who is older than you, calls you “love” and “hon”. Again, I was the only one without a cowboy hat. I took a seat at the counter and upon opening the menu found that they serve only omelettes, and, all their omelettes have 3 eggs; not 4 and not 2, but exactly 3 eggs. A cheese omelette costs $7.45, a bacon omelette costs $7.70, and a bacon and cheese omelette costs $8.45. I didn’t want any of those so I asked my waitress how much for a plain omelette. Her answer, based on these prices, was …? Well? Good luck!

We made it back. It wasn’t easy but nobody said it would be. I couldn’t have done it without my crew. One was a cook, another a trained marksman, and the third was experienced with horses and mules. All were essential to the success of the mission. We met up at the Pilot truck stop on I-19 and drove the long scenic road down into California Gulch. We arrived around 5 and walked up the gulch a ways searching for Five-striped Sparrow but couldn’t find any. No problem, there is always Box Canyon tomorrow. There were plenty of other good birds down there, like this Thick-billed Kingbird:

At 7:00 pm we readied ourselves into position to watch for the Buff-collared Nightjar in the only place in North America you can see one. At 7:17 one began calling (386) until 7:25. But even with a half full moon on a warm calm night no other Buff-collared called and this one did not move so we couldn’t get a visual on it. At 7:35 two Elf Owls sang and then a Common Poorwill. That’s it, time for the long 1 hour and forty minute rough drive back out.

Last night and this morning it rained! I don’t know about Green Valley where I spent the night, but Sierra Vista’s average rainfall for May is .3 inches – next to none. After it stopped we went up Box Canyon where Five-stripped Sparrow has been seen virtually every day since April 3 including earlier this morning. There were at least 8 of us searching but we couldn’t find it. I could tell my Bird Repulsion Device was in the on position and running full power. I have no control over it. We searched for three hours and finally gave up. It’s the old “find one, miss one” pattern that haunts the Big Year birder, meaning now that I’ve searched for it and missed, I’ll have to go back.

Today’s plan was to search for Olive-sided Flycatcher up in Sawmill Canyon. I can get this one in New Hampshire but I’d like to get it out of the way here. I didn’t get five feet when I knew I had a flat tire. Well, if you’re going to get a flat, it might as well be in your own driveway. The hard part was figuring out the jack. It only had two pieces so I spent ten minutes searching for the missing pieces until I realized it was a two-piece jack. I haven’t changed a flat tire, that I can remember, since December 1999 in Playa Jaco, Costa Rica, pictured above. I am none too pleased with the photographer; she is having way more fun than me, but then that’s Costa Rica.

I got the spare on and went straight to the tire shop. I had many choices. “We got a Michelin SX 240R P29 Eagle LS”, the clerk boasted, “or a Cooper DB 27 P32 Wide 5G, or a Goodrich double T 27 3RX heavy….” Huh? My head spun. I shook it. “See”, I explained to the clerk, “when I go into an ice cream parlor, I know vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. But here….” A knowing smile creased his face. Many minutes later, I drove away with all new wheels, and I was tempted to lay some new rubber in their parking lot.

Mid-morning had already arrived so I scrapped the canyons for a small walk up Escapule Wash to look for Varied Bunting. I’ll have to give them another week to return.

Tomorrow is a big day, one of the biggest. I travel to a place whose very name sends shivers down the spine of the most intrepid birder. A land of fear, dread, and danger. Where few dare to pass. A land wild, untamed, half-civilized, and unpeopled. We may never be seen or heard from again. The borderlands, a land of bandits, rustlers, desperados, and smugglers – and that’s just the truck stop on I-19 where we meet. Yes, it’s time to embark on a journey the Big Year birder must make – you guessed it – gulp – California Gulch!

I’ve rounded up a seasoned support crew to accompany me and I’ve loaded up the truck with plentiful supplies and provisions – flour, salt, tobacco, whiskey. You may not hear from me for days. If it’s longer than that, worry.

Is it all worth it? Do we dare? Why go? Where else can I find two highly range-restricted species to add to the list – namely: Five-striped Sparrow and Buff-collared Nightjar. Birders travel far and wide to add these two choice specialties to life lists and Big Year tallies. And so, without any choice, lacking all reasonable alternatives, I too must go. Farewell to you I say, and wish me luck, treasure, and Godspeed.