The Puente San Nicolas

Appropriately named for the jolly patron of the juvenile, Puente San Nicolas came bearing gifts on the cool, bright morning Mary, Tim, and I spent there last week.  It was obvious as soon as we got out of the car that the tangled banks of this lovely river would be our Christmas in November: we were greeted by a pair of Green Kingfishers, and Lincoln’s Sparrows and Green-tailed Towhees, skulky as they normally are, were visible half a dozen at a time, their sheer abundance forcing some of them out into the open.

The emblematic moment of our experience came when Tim had caught a glimpse of something bright in the foliage. It took me a while, but I got on it, too, and just as I shouted Black-vented Oriole, Tim called out Thick-billed Kingbird, and Mary hisspered Rose-throated Becard. It was like that all morning: so many birds that time and again we found ourselves looking each at something else, and usually all three of us on something the others wanted to see as well! It was a riot, of color and diversity and fun, rivaling any day I’d ever spent in Sonora. And we had only an hour and a half to spend, alas.

In that 90 minutes we found close to 60 species, from Golden Eagle to Rufous-capped Warbler. The latter species was represented by a pair–I think all but one of the rufous-caps we saw this trip were in pairs–in an undistinguished small tree that they shared with the Black-vented, a Streak-backed, and a dozen Orchard/Hooded Orioles, plus innumerable Black-headed Grosbeaks, a few Blue Grosbeaks, and a male Lazuli Bunting, while a noisy White-striped Woodcreeper played an earnest sort of tag with Gila and Acorn Woodpeckers on the other side of the trail. We did hear a couple of Sinaloa Wrens, but never succeeded in getting a look at that often tantalizing species.

It was breathtaking and wonderful in there, simply put. But the very best was the flycatcher list. I think I’ve had bigger tyrannid tallies, but none to match this one for the excitement of wonderful views of uncommon birds. The Cassin’s Kingbirds we’d watched mass the evening before were coming off the roost in twos and threes when we arrived at sunrise, and we nearly ignored the Greater Pewees we’d found so exciting on our first visit. Pacific-slope, Gray, and Dusky Flycatchers were joined by a single individual of that most charming of all empids, Buff-breasted Flycatcher. And the treetops nearly crawled with the unbearably cute morning-orange of Tufted Flycatchers, giving buzzy little grating calls as they flycaught from the twigs. Strangely, we found only one Northern Beardless-Tyrannulet, a species I hadn’t even thought of “targeting” for this trip: they’re usually just kind of there.

The best bird of our trip was one of Saint Nick’s flycatchers. Black Phoebes were, of course, everywhere along the watercourse, and there were a couple of Say’s Phoebes and goodly numbers of Vermilion Flycatchers where the banks were more open. We were standing listening to another invisible Sinaloa Wren (and sending not entirely charitable thoughts its way) when a medium-sized bird flew in and pumped its tail: Eastern Phoebe! My first in Mexico, and one of surprisingly few ever recorded in Sonora; they’re certainly more common than the published record would indicate, but this sweet creature was the cap to a wonderful morning on a tropical river.

With all that and more going on, I can be forgiven having forgot to take pictures. Just too much to look at! I did snap the late-morning landscape shot at the top of this page, and I couldn’t resist the pair of Green Kingfishers that kept us company as we marveled at their domain.