Mountain Plovers are among the birds I most look forward to seeing each Arizona winter, when small, apparently nomadic flocks inhabit a few traditional areas of bare fields and pasture. Sometimes a bird’s beauty is enhanced by its rarity, but I firmly believe that this would be a bird to admire for hours on end even if it weren’t one of the scarcest waders in the world.

Who could fail to love a face that sweet?

Friday’s birds let us approach to within a car’s length, and once they’d determined that we were no threat, they returned to their leisurely afternoon toilette, preening and stretching. And as we watched, we discovered that this species is an “indirect scratcher,” raising the foot over the wing, rather than reaching under the wing, to relieve an itch on the head or neck.

It’s the rare day when a birder doesn’t learn something new.

My prediction Friday morning had been that my stake-out Burrowing Owls would be safely huddled in their warm caves, waiting out the coldest night of the season. I was wrong: at two of the sites we visited, birds were up and out, soaking up what warmth there was before retiring for a morning nap.

Graham spotted this one, a cobble-sized and -shaped bird that I would probably have driven right by.  The resemblance to a rock ends, though, as soon as they fix you with that golden stare.

The long-staying Northern Jacana at the Dave White Golf Course in Casa Grande has been abundantly documented now with descriptions and photos; this is a very good thing, since for some reason all of my pictures have turned out to be even blurrier and more distant than I’d thought. I’ll have plenty of opportunity, deo volente, to improve on my efforts in days to come, but for now I’m pretty proud of the shadows cast in this image by those incredible toes.