All too familiar

Someone at The Onion, that hip, edgy, and often outrageous send-up of newspaper journalism, is a casual birder or knows a birder pretty well. Those are the only two possible explanations for this:

The Sibley Guide To Birds Has Clearly Misidentified The Dark-Eyed Junco

The urge to open our Sibzilla to page 488 is almost irresistible...

--SW

Hello, Bird Banding Laboratory?...

I'd like to report a banded bird. It was a male dark-morph South Polar Skua, and the band was on his right leg. The band was yellow plastic with a ratchet-type closure and was marked with "A54" in black. No, there was no metal band on either leg. Where was the bird? Well, I'm not exactly sure. Somewhere in Antarctica near an Emperor Penguin nesting colony. I think it must have been some distance from the location where the skua was banded, because the penguins didn't have any experience with humans. Oh, and in case it might be helpful in matching it to the right banding project, the researchers collected a blood sample during the banding process. How would I know that? Well, there was no mistaking the bird's description of it, even though he obviously didn't understand that it was a blood sample. Pardon? Of course he didn't talk to me! I overhead him telling a juvenile Emperor Penguin who asked him about the band to distract him from his predatory intentions...

Okay, I didn't really report this band to the Bird Banding Lab, but it's tempting. The banded skua had a small but pivotal role in Happy Feet, an animated film released this weekend. Bird research is a pretty rare plot device for feature films, and the inclusion of avian in-jokes (the central character, Mumble, sounds at times like a real Emperor Penguin while his conspecifics all sing like pop stars) made me wonder if the skua's band might be an homage to a real banded bird.

While it's not in the same league as March of the Penguins, Happy Feet is well worth seeing if only for the exquisitely rendered birds and land/ice/seascapes. The creators took quite a few artistic liberties, mostly to help distinguish the characters from one another, but the textures of the feathers and their interactions with the environment are simply amazing. A word of warning, though: This is not your average kiddie fare, with themes that very young viewers might find at least puzzling (courting penguins belting out the sexy lyrics of Prince's "Kiss") if not disturbing (terrifying Leopard Seal and Orca attacks, an abandoned whaling station strewn with skeletons, penguins rendered catatonic by life in captivity).
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And speaking of animated wildlife and environmental fables, a few months back we watched a Japanese feature film called Pom Poko. Though Tom's not at all interested in anime, he couldn't resist the plot description involving raccoons fighting the destruction of their forest home by human development. Japan doesn't have raccoons, but it does have the raccoon-dog, a.k.a. tanuki, which figures prominently in Japanese folklore. (We occasionally eat at a Japanese restaurant in Sierra Vista named after this critter.)

One thing we noticed a few minutes into the film was that the male tanuki were often drawn with rather prominent testicles, something you seldom see on Western cartoon mammals, with the obvious exception of Fritz the Cat (but maybe that's why Mickey Mouse wears pants and Donald Duck doesn't). Later, the soundtrack referred to the "raccoons" using their magical "pouches" as weapons. It finally hit us that the English translation was neither taxonomically nor anatomically correct. It seems that the tanuki of myth and legend is renowned for its oversized testicles, which it uses in a variety of inventive ways (even as a percussion instrument - ow!). The mating season also enters into the plot, one more reason that many Western parents probably would not consider this appropriate fare for the very young.

The shifting visual representations, from realism to traditional caricature to goofy minimalism, may be confusing for viewers not steeped in the conventions of Japanese animation, but the plot is engaging and the message compelling. I recommend it for an entertaining peek into Japanese mythology, culture, and environmentalism as well as an introduction to modern Japanese animation - see it if you have the chance. --SW

Cousin Slim comes to visit

A snake came to my water-trough
On a hot, hot day, and I in pyjamas for the heat,
To drink there.
-- D.H. Lawrence

It was one of those hot, hot days, and when a breeze kicked up at midday I began to worry about a few tender young plants still in starter pots. Pepper seedlings can handle temperatures in the 90s, but single-digit humidities combined with a breeze can turn them into shriveled little mummies in a matter of minutes.

Out on the patio, I did a double take. It looked like the gardening fairy had beat me to it and placed a thin gray hose into the tub that partially protected the tiny chilitos from the elements.


A quick peek over the side of the tub confirmed that it was not a hose at all, but the rear third of a Sonoran Whipsnake (Masticophis bilineatus). I dashed back into the house to grab a camera and returned to capture the event in pixels. But this was hardly the snake's best side, so I lightly touched it near its tail, outside the box. Up popped a foxy snout and brilliant amber eyes.


A couple of quick flicks of the tongue, a couple of clicks of the shutter, and the snake's head disappeared into the tub again. Dang...

In "Snake," the poem quoted above, D.H. Lawrence owns up to struggling with the "education" of his childhood:

Was it cowardice, that I dared not kill him?
Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him?
Was it humility, to feel so honoured?
I felt so honoured.

And yet those voices:
If you were not afraid, you would kill him!

And truly I was afraid, I was most afraid,
But even so, honoured still more
That he should seek my hospitality
From out the dark door of the secret earth.

Ultimately, "those voices" won out over Lawrence's fascination with the snake (a venomous species), and he picked up a log and chucked it at the poor creature. I always managed to resist my family's efforts at "education," so harming this whipsnake never entered my mind. But in the quest for a better photo, I stroked its hindparts again. This was too much for it, and it shot out of the tub, nailing me on the hand with its needle teeth before vanishing under the house.

And immediately I regretted it...
And I wished he would come back, my snake.

I had been a boorish host, groping my guest for the sake of a photo opp. If he honors us with another visit, I'll treat him with deference befitting "one of the lords of life." --SW
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It's the time of year, I suppose - Julie Zickefoose just blogged on a similar visitor, though not welcomed quite as wholeheartedly as ours. --SW

She scares me sometimes...

The last two days have had us on edge. A little moist air and temperatures in the 80s combined to cook up some thunderclouds, which could bring much-needed rain, dangerous wind gusts, fire-starting lightning, or all three. Yesterday as I worked in the garden, I watched a nice storm developing over the southern Sulphur Springs Valley. Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, but - big surprise - no rain fell on our half acre.

Today we got the same setup, but I resolved not to get my hopes up even when it looked like a burly slate-gray thunderhead was moving our way. In between butt-numbing stints at the computer dealing with a couple of weeks' worth of e-mail backlog, I popped into the kitchen for a drink. From the living room I heard Jesse say, "It's sprinkling." I replied, "Yeah, right - it's sprinkling. No such luck, my dear." I returned to the computer for another half hour, until I noticed a lovely moist fragrance wafting into the study on the AC. Torn between skepticism and hope, I peeked outside and found the patio drying from a recent shower. Jesse was right - it had been sprinkling.

Jesse is a 19-year-old, captive-bred, hand-raised African Grey Parrot. Until today, I didn't even know that she'd added "It's sprinkling" to her already prodigious vocabulary. Her cage sits by a window overlooking the patio, where she could see the rain falling. Did she really understand what she was saying? I don't know, but she does things like this all the time. In our house, "bird-brained" is a compliment. One of these days, I'll take dictation from her and transcribe a few minutes' worth of her more intelligible utterances into her very own blog entry. --SW

May in Arizona

Well, here’s my monthly blog entry. This is HARD! I have even more admiration for Amy, Julie, Bill, Sharon and others that blog every day. It has been a busy month with a few milestones. Our community radio station KBRP is back to streaming on the web http://www.kbrpradio.com/ so you can catch my Wed. night music mix 7-9 MST from anywhere. The new edition of the Southeastern Arizona Birding Trail Map is finally done and available, and it looks great.

I just finished helping with my second five day birding Elderhostel class in the Chiricahuas. This is a great time to be out and about in the “sky islands” with a few winter birds still hanging around and new arrivals every day. Elderhostel groups are fun; most folks are beginning or moderate level birders so there’s none of the pressure of the white-knuckle lister who HAS to see that 700^th bird. The groups are large (we had 19) but easy to handle.

We had to work hard for the Elegant Trogon but persistence finally paid off. We did amazingly well with most of the other southwestern birds and ended with over 150 species. Highlights included Barn, Whiskered-screech and Elf Owls, a well seen Whip-poor-will and dozens of warblers and tanagers at what little water is available in the mountain canyons.. I’ve often thought that the total list at the end of the day should be weighted with extra points for especially charismatic (Painted Redstart), colorful (Lazuli Bunting), or rare (trogon) species as well as cool behavior (young redtails fighting over an unfortunate Scaled Quail). Mammals (javelina, Apache Fox Squirrel) and reptiles (Whipsnake) should count a little extra since they are so seldom seen. As usual, the total number of birds seen is a poor measure of a good week in the field.

I rarely see a life bird in Arizona anymore - I can’t remember the last one I saw. But I’ve adopted the hockey players system of counting points; one point for a new bird and one point for an assist with a new bird. By that measure, I scored big time with these Elderhostel groups. They probably averaged 40 or so life birds each and we had a grand time showing them.

tw

Back From the Argentine

Spring is upon us in southeastern Arizona, a season announced not with wildflowers but by the arrival of our summer birds. The drought here continues and it has been the driest winter on record in our area. We have had three little sprinkles, totaling .43 inch in our rain gauge since, last October. That’s right, less than half an inch of rain in the last 6 months. We are a desert, but even for a desert that’s too dry. It is going to be a traumatic year for the wildlife, with no snowpack in the mountains, springs will soon be dry and the spring breeding season will be very difficult. But in the midst of all this brown, dessicated landscape, spring is arriving on warbler wings. Swainson’s Hawks are back from Argentina and Great Horned Owls and Golden Eagles have already downy young.

I’ve done a couple of Elderhostel birding classes in the Chiricahuas in the last two weeks and leave tomorrow for another one. In between, the bird observatory has begun our regular walks on the river and in the Huachucas and hummingbird banding along the San Pedro River. This week the river was alive with birds, part of the estimated 6 million songbirds that use the San Pedro as a migratory corridor. The stretch of river where we do our walks has been transformed by the restoration of beaver to the river. What used to be shallow riffles and tiny channels is now a series of wide deep pools. This may not qualify as a river in your part of the country, but in southern Arizona, in a drought year (decade?) this is a treasure. At one point we had 19 Lucy’s Warblers in one binocular view in one bush. Wilson's, Yellow, MacGillivray's and Yellow-rumped Warblers all cavorted in the willows along the river while we got warblerneck. Easier to view Scotts’ Orioles are all over the feeders at the field station and Black- headed Grosbeaks went from non-existent to abundant overnight. Hummingbird banding today on the river produced 15 birds, eight of whom were recaptures - including one banded last year on April 16 recaptured April 15 this year.

Owl Prowls this week were a mixed bag. A trip to Miller Canyon found a nest cavity with 3 (?) Elf Owls displaying around the tree and a touching food exchange from a pair of Whiskered Screech Owls. Apparently a large moth is an appropriate first date meal for a new couple. Closer to home in the Mule Mountains, our resident Elf Owls have yet to settle into their old nest cavity - making our job of showing off our neighbors much more difficult. Hopefully they will return next week.

We are still waiting for our first trogon, Red-faced Warblers and Western Tanagers but they should arrive soon. One of the scariest aspects of this drought is that we are now entering a time of year we EXPECT to be rainless. It may be July before we see any relief and it will be hard to watch the plants and animals suffer. We’ll keep the water features full at home and at the field station and water our wildlife-friendly landscaping and hope for the best.

Climate change? What climate change? tw