West of Tucson
ByUp and out early, early, to do some birding with Jerry and Yousif from Calgary. They’ve been here on their own for a few days, burning up the checklist of Arizona specialties, but there were a couple of birds I thought maybe I could help them with. So we headed west on a spectacularly beautiful morning.
First stop: the Mesquital Migrant Trap. “Old-time” local birders seem to have given up on this locality, but as a relative newcomer, I’m unburdened by memories of past grandeur, and am quite happy with the way it is now! The derelict palms in front of the old cafe host several pairs of Hooded Orioles, and their whining and chatter greeted us as we stepped out of the vehicle. White-winged, Inca, Mourning, and a newly ensconced pair of Eurasian Collared-Doves were on the wires, their conversation a requiem for the shuttered restaurant: Who cooks for you? No hope! You think so? So sad, sad, sad!
A few late migrants were still around, a Green-tailed Towhee mewling from the creosotes, a few oriantha White-crowned Sparrows in the trees; but the local pair of Western Kingbirds were already well settled, attending a scraggly nest atop a windmill. And the site’s sought-after specialty, Bendire’s Thrasher, perched up for several minutes to bask in the admiration of two Canadian birders.
It was already warm, and (goes without saying) extremely dusty, so we decided to return to the interstate for our foray to Red Rock rather than take the usual wintertime route cross-country. I was happy to find a dozen Lark Buntings still in the corrals at the feedlot, and delighted that several of them were males in their finest formal black, a plumage we don’t see a lot of here on the wintering grounds. A few late-staying Yellow-headed Blackbirds could still be picked out from the abundant Great-tailed Grackles, Red-winged Blackbirds, and Bronzed and Brown-headed Cowbirds, too. Columbids were everywhere in their overwhelming summer numbers, and we nearly despaired of picking out our quarry: but there it was, a single female Ruddy Ground-Dove perched low in a mesquite, not the least bit concerned with us as she sunned and preened.
