Northern Shrikes are notorious for their bold wintertime incursions into cities, but not until I moved to Tucson did I discover that Loggerhead Shrikes, too, can tolerate traffic and noise in their fearless search for small prey.

A few years ago we had one that would show up regularly in the mornings and perch, ever hopeful, atop the bird feeders waiting for a careless House Finch; we wished our dapper pirate well, but couldn’t help wondering whether he might not have better luck lurking just a bit farther away and giving the birds a chance to come in!

And now all this winter there’s been a shrike at the busy corner of River and Alvernon, perching blithely on the paloverdes, mesquites, and fences as the cars zip by. It’s a risky habitat for a shrike–the species is among the most frequent roadkills in areas where it is still common–but the bird certainly brightens my commute.

The WINGS office is smackdab in the middle of urban Tucson, but our views are good, especially on days like this when fresh snow has piled up on the Catalinas. If you step outside and position yourself just right, most of the urban chaos disappears and there’s nothing–almost–but wildness in sight.

We have a few birds around, too, as every Tucson neighborhood does. Gila Woodpeckers shriek non-stop from the fruiting olive tree out the window, and the local Anna’s Hummingbird is popping and scratching in display every morning when I arrive. Today I happened to step out of the car just as a lovely female American Kestrel arrived, swooping to an elegant landing atop a telephone pole and eying the parking lot carefully for anything small and edible.

I failed to qualify–fortunately, given the intensity of that falconid gaze.