Heavy weather

We've just endured a wretched three days here in beautiful southeastern Arizona. A fierce low pressure system brought savage winds, rain, sleet, hail, and snow to our little corner of paradise. The winds started when temperatures were running slightly above normal (hot, in other words) and humidities very low, which played heck with tender young leaves. Gusts up to 58 mph were recorded at the Bisbee-Douglas airport, and a substantial portion of our roof is scattered over our yard and neighboring properties. Our newly planted vegetables and many of our flowers look like they've been sandblasted.

Then on Wednesday night the temperatures took a nosedive. Thursday morning's bird walk in Miller Canyon was seriously chilly, but there was lots of activity as tired, hungry birds tried to recover from the wind and cold, and the deep canyon protected us from the winds. I felt especially bad for the Spotted Owl family 50+ feet up in a huge fir -- their nest was swaying so much that they could have used scopolamine patches. (I so wish I'd had a digiscoping camera to capture the fuzzy little face poking our from under its mama's wing.) Back at Beatty's Guest Ranch, hungry hungry hummingbirds, including two White-eareds and a Lucifer x Calypte hybrid, put on quite a show. [Subsequent observations revealed this bird to be a Lucifer-like hybrid, probably Broad-tailed x Costa's.]

The winds raged on through Thursday night, the staccato beat of rain, sleet, and hail against our bedroom window making it hard to sleep. It dried out a bit yesterday morning, but the cold, gusty conditions continued through the afternoon and into the night. As we made our way to yesterday afternoon's hummingbird banding session in Carr Canyon, the peaks of the Huachuca Mountains were thickly capped with snow, something we've never seen this late in the season in our 20 years in Arizona. Our banding crew was bundled up like Inuits except for me -- my burliest turtleneck sweater and woolly socks weren't quite warm enough, so I ended up borrowing a jacket from one of the volunteers. The weather had the birds in a much less cooperative mood than usual, but gentle application of warm breath seemed to calm them down. A male Broad-billed, two male Magnificents, two female Anna's, a female Black-chinned, and a premature escapee male Blue-throated were our rewards for soldiering through.

At least the storm brought some precipitation, which should compensate a bit for the destructiveness of the winds and cold. I'm expecting to see a renewal of nesting activity over the next week or so as birds that lost their eggs and nestlings start from scratch. A pair of Greater Roadrunners in lower Carr Canyon seemed to be getting a head start yesterday afternoon--mating just yards from the road and totally unfazed when two carloads of bird banders pulled up to gawk at them! --SW

Treasures of the Sierra Madre: Las Guacamayas

One of the advantages to living on the Mexican border is that we occasionally get to cross it. Our latest favorite destination is Madera, Chihuahua, home of the world's largest remaining flock of endangered Thick-billed Parrots.I first visited Madera in September 2002 at the invitation of colleague Noel Snyder, who was a major player in the ultimately unsuccessful attempt to reintroduce the species into Arizona. When I got home, Tom asked, "So, how was the trip?" I replied by showing him dozens of photos of parrots, nesting Eared Quetzals, and much more. His next words, once he caught his breath, were, "When do we leave?" Two weeks later we were back in Madera and already planning tours through SABO with the parrots and Eared Quetzals ("Ps & Qs") as the headliners.

One of our traveling companions on last July's tour was conservation biologist, author, and Princeton University professor David S. Wilcove (fourth from the right in the photo at left). David's encounters with the guacamayas, as Aldo Leopold called them, inspired him to write a thoughful article on the species' past, present, and future for the Winter 2008 issue of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology's magazine, Living Bird.

The best news in this article for the parrots and those of us who love them is that the American Bird Conservancy and ProNatura have been hard at work negotiating protection for their most important nesting areas. With on-the-ground conservation efforts and the added economic incentives of ecotourism, there may hope for the future of these gaudy, raucous treasures of the Sierra Madre. --SW

Re: Verse

In case you missed it, closet poet Tom won WildBird On The Fly's limerick contest with this evocative bit of bird verse:

A marvelous bird is the Dipper
He swims under water like Flipper
Like a little gray Robin
His rear end a-bobbin'
He seems to be feeling quite chipper.

--SW

Art with heart

Congratulations to our friend and fellow Arizona birder Anne Peyton, who's been honored as Conservation Artist for February 2008 by Artists for Conservation for "artistic excellence and extraordinary dedication to conservation." We couldn't agree more!

Higher Moth

Bisbee has become famous (notorious?) for its counterculture New Year's celebrations (think Buffalo Bill's Wild West meets Burning Man), and 2008 was one of the best yet as pyrotechnic performance troupe Flam Chen wowed the crowds with some advanced moth-matics.

For Tom and me, the festivities began at the home of friends Aaron and Megan about 40 miles away in Sierra Vista, where time slipped away so fast that we didn't make it to Old Bisbee until just before midnight. The historic district was jammed with revelers, but we lucked out to find a recently vacated parking space a few blocks from the celebration. As we dashed up stairs and down alleys, we could see a cluster of huge white orbs rising over City Park and hear the joyful noise of the crowd backed by a primitive pulsing beat.

We arrived just after the stroke of midnight to a phantasmagorical vision: Floating above the park was a performer in a Luna Moth costume, bouyed into the night sky by helium-filled balloons. From her mask two brilliant blue eyes glowed, and tiny matching lights flickered along the curve of her wings. On the stage below, stilt walkers also dressed as moths (with ostrich-feather antennae) waved flare-tipped staffs and twirled flaming pots on chains, drawing ecstatic shrieks from the crowd. Words don't do justice to this other-worldly spectacle, but you can get a taste of the experience from this video shot and edited by Tom and posted to YouTube for your enjoyment:


What we didn't know until reading this morning's paper is that this was a pro bono performance. Flam Chen's fee for a slightly more elaborate "typical" show would have been $20,000, but they performed free of charge because troupe leaders Nadia (who portrayed the moth) and Paul Weir have enjoyed past New Year's celebrations in Bisbee. Costs were defrayed by a grant acquired by the Bisbee Arts Commission that financed the finale balloons and the helium that floated them.

So thanks, Flam Chen, for helping our little town ring in 2008 in wildly psychedelic style. We'll be counting the 365 days until Bisbee welcomes you back!

Welcoming the Cranes

Despite the fact that my birding buddy was still working her way back from Cape May, I headed out to Whitewater Draw to welcome the cranes back to Arizona. Only a couple of weeks ago the skies were full of Swainson’s Hawks headed for Argentina. We saw over 200 one day and the next morning before the thermals began cooking it seemed like every fencepost and utility pole had a hawk awaiting liftoff.


This one was disappointed that he was not allowed to eat before leaving.

As the last of the Swainson’s Hawks (and Turkey Vultures) left, the first few cranes began arriving. I like to think that Siberian-hatched Sandhill Cranes share the same field with Argentine-bound Swainson’s Hawks for a few days in October each year.

At Whitewater Draw Wildlife Area, all the usual suspects were there, including this Barn Owl peeking out from the willows.


I ran into the Wildlife Area manager and he said that there were about 9000 cranes at the roost earlier in the week, about a third of the total expected to arrive. I got to the viewing platform as the first groups began arriving in noisy squadrons from the corn fields where they spent the morning and sat quietly taking photographs. I probably have 2000 crane pictures but they are just too damn photogenic to resist. Actually, I’m still learning a new camera and enjoyed the practice. I can probably put all those boxes of slides in storage and just stick to digital images from now on.

The cranes were so close that along with the constant bugling of the adults and chirping of juveniles, I could hear the flapping of their big wings as they moved about the playa. Suddenly I heard a whoosh like a jet plane overhead and an entire flight of cranes dropped out of the sky as fast as gravity could pull them. I love watching them drop their legs and cup their wings to parachute in, but this was a panic drop down to the water.










So I glance directly overhead and there was the first Golden Eagle of the season, an immature bird hang over my (and the cranes’) head.


Winter in the Sulphur Springs Valley is a wonderful birding experience. Although I miss the hummingbirds and other tropical migrants that brighten our summers, the hawks, eagles, cranes and other birds make up for their absence.