High. Low.

Alison and I spent most of this morning in upper Madera Canyon, escaping the heat of the desert and enjoying the Sierra Madrean feel of the place in early June. Elegant Trogons and Sulphur-bellied Flycatchers were common and conspicuous, with half a dozen of each oinking and squealing, respectively, in the half mile from parking lot to the warbler pool. A Wild Turkey hen was among the species coming in to drink and bathe as we watched, and Band-tailed Pigeons were audible above us in the early morning calm. At least one Mountain (Northern) Pygmy-Owl tooted us along as we climbed, but never came into sight–probably lucky for him given the numbers of nervous Bridled Titmice and Bewick’s Wrens along the trail, which would have made short work of the little guy if they’d found him! The only definite migrant we saw was a russet-backed Swainson’s Thrush bathing in the pool while Hermit Thrushes sang all around us.

It’s a sure sign of how easily and how completely southeast Arizona spoils a birder when I say that none of those wonders was a surprise. This time, astonishment waited on us at a quick stop at the mouth of the canyon. A brown form flashing through the oaks at the Proctor Road turnoff landed just a few feet away from us and became a juvenile Gray Hawk, out of range and habitat, far above the riverine elevations the species is bound to in the US. The bird looked at us until it was sure we’d had clear views of its strong and diagnostic face pattern, then turned deliberately on the branch to show us the white uppertail coverts as it took off: obviously auditioning for a spot on a field-guide plate! This was the first of its species either of us had seen in Madera Canyon, and called to mind the resolutely out-of-place pair breeding in lower Garden Canyon in the Huachucas.

A male Varied Bunting drew us down along the path to the erstwhile waterfalls below Proctor Road, now a stunning, but thoroughly dry, landscape of huge boulders and drought-stressed trees. A large, black, swift-like hummingbird blasted in ahead of us and landed on a dead twig: a male Magnficent Hummingbird, far lower than the shady canyon trickles where one looks for this species. Disorienting for us, the bemused human observers, but the bird looked, well, magnificent as he went about his trochilid business among mesquites and cottonwoods.

What’s next in this spring of elevational displacements? Ptarmigans and Inca Terns?