You guessed it. Birds and Words has been traveling. We spent a week in Southeastern Arizona and I waited over a week to write about it because I’m still processing the thrill of spending a week glued to my binoculars every day, roaming the wilds of the Wild West, hiking in the Chiricahua National Monument and basking in 20 degree (celsius) weather and clear blue skies day in day out. I seem to have acquired a new life goal: to become a professional snow bird.
We spent the first three nights in Bisbee, AZ, about 10 miles north of the Mexican border, and a stone’s throw from some of the best birding in the state. Highlights included waking up one morning, telling the Mister that I wanted to see a road runner, and then seeing four of them that very day. Greater Roadrunners do indeed run across the road, apparently as fast as 32 km/hour. Few sightings can compare to a prehistoric-looking avian creature whizzing in front of your car. And that happened FOUR times over the course of a day. After a hike in the otherworldly universe of the Chiricahua National Monument, we descended the mountain and caught the sunset at the White Water Draw, along with approximately 30,000 Sandhill cranes (give or take a few). Just when I thought life couldn’t get any better, I turned around and saw flocks of red-winged blackbirds, which I initially dismissed as just thousands of red-wings, but something forced me to look harder and lo and behold, I came across dozens of Yellow-headed Blackbirds, which only happens to be my second favorite bird in the universe. While at White Water Draw, I embarrassingly misidentified a Great Blue Heron as a Black-Crowned Night Heron, but the universe will forgive me that misdemeanor.
After perusing the art galleries in Bisbee and drinking the best coffee I’ve ever had at the Bisbee Coffee Company and buying stamps in the most delightful post office and visiting the stellar library built in 1906 (or thereabouts — Bisbee used to be a huge copper mining capital; immigrants came from all over the world to work in the mines and the town population was over 20,000 in 1900; now the city clocks in at 5000 souls), I headed for the bookstore (of course) and bought the lovely, indispensable Birds of Southeastern Arizona. (That’s also when I realized that I had also just seen the Mexican Jay).
Bisbee treated us superbly: we ate, drank, listened to fine country music at a local bar, bought some beautiful earrings, and admired the gorgeous vistas.
From there, on we went to Tombstone, where we lasted about half an hour. The highlight of our time in Western-Kitsch-Central was a conversation with the woman who worked in the tourism office; she recommended we watch the classic Paint Your Wagon for a full experience of the west, and we took her at her word, which resulted in two wasted hours of life, but more on that perhaps later, or not.
After Tombstone, we made our way to Patagonia — via San Pedro riparian forest, where my knowledge of sparrows was so pathetic that all I could safely ID was a Loggerhead Shrike (no complaints, the bird is divine); all the sparrows, save the White-crowned, were lost on me. In Patagonia (pop. 950), we spent four nights at the Duquesne House, where breakfasts were divine, and the garden fabulously birdy: I saw my first Broad-billed Hummingbird along with a Black-chinned hummingbird, a Curve-billed Thrasher, a Pyrrhuloxia, Lesser and American Goldfinches galore, Northern Cardinals that went positively bonkers at sunset, and a gazillion sparrows.
Birding in Patagonia was as close as I’d ever come to experiencing birding bliss: we saw the most perfect Vermillion flycatcher perched on a post, giving us photo-worthy poses (if only I had my camera!) at the Nature Conservancy. I saw my first Say’s Phoebe and Black Phoebe, which looked like he’d just put on a freshly ironed tuxedo. Later, at Paton’s — the home of the late Paton family, who graciously opened their garden doors to birders of the world after someone had discovered a rare hummingbird on their property — I saw a Ladder-backed woodpecker and a Gila Woodpecker, along with an Anna’s hummingbird. The following day we ventured out to Patagonia State Park and did not manage to see the Green Kingfisher, which would have been extraordinary, but really, how many extraordinary experiences can I have on one trip? The Kingfisher might have actually brought me to sensory overload, so it’s perhaps a blessing in disguise that we missed him. But I did manage to see a Black-throated Grey warbler, which was thrilling, because he has the best of both the Blackpoll and the Black-and-White warbler.
We spent our last day in Patagonia birding with Matt Brown, an extraordinary bird guide and fantastic guy. He took us to Pena Blanca, where we saw a Bewick’s wren and a Canyon wren, a Verdin, which tried to elude us but for once we happened to outsmart the bird! We got the Acorn woodpecker and the Arizona woodpecker and the Red-naped sapsucker, which brought my AZ woodpecker count to 6 species, which I consider downright amazing. I squealed when we got the Painted Redstart and Townsend’s warbler (the volume of the squeals were proportional to the splendor of the bird; in other words, I screamed louder at the sight of a painted redstart). There were other fabulous birds, of course, including the Canyon towhee, the Chihuahuan Raven, the Bridled Titmouse, the rufous-winged sparrow, the grey flycatcher, and others I’m likely forgetting. Of course our day wouldn’t be complete without spectacular misses, including the Elegant Trogon and the Rufous-capped warbler, but these misses only make me want to come back to AZ for more. I’m completely grateful to Matt for the great day, the awesome birdy conversation, the fabulous hike along a canyon, and the extraordinary birdy knowledge. It was the perfect way to end our holiday.
And Matt Brown even crowned my husband with a new designation. It turns out he’s an S.O.B = spouse of a birder, which sums things up rather well.
As I filled up our tank on our way out of Patagonia, the attendant at P.I.G.S. (Politically Incorrect Gas Station) informed me that the gas station was for sale and asked me if I was interested in buying it. We nearly said yes.