Madera Canyon and the Santa Rita Mountains, Arizona

There are as many ways to bird as there are birders. You can study and learn songs and locations and target particular species. You can go to one location and sit and be still and wait to see what comes along. You can bounce from place to place in an attempt to see as many species as possible. You can stay home and birdwatch at your feeders or you can drive across the country in search for something new. I have, as I assume most birding "listers" have, done all of those things at one time or another. Pretty much every morning I sit and count the birds at my feeders. I've chased rarities all over the state of Michigan. I've traveled long distances to see new species (and new places) and I am blessed to be able to do so.

Generally speaking our vacations are not relaxing affairs where we go hole up on some beach or mountain cabin and chill and read for a week. No, we are more explorer-minded, and are busy every day we're away--you know, those folks that need a vacation from their vacation. And none of our trips is truly a vacation anyway--we are constantly gathering information and images to use in our work. 

This trip to Arizona was no exception. Since we had never been to the state before my list of "lifer" birds was enormous--counting rarities and sub-species it topped 130--so I didn't really have particular target birds I needed to see. Pretty much every bird in Arizona was a target, so we planned trips to certain locations that were particularly "birdy" or had other interesting things like unique plants or habitats.

Madera Canyon falls squarely into the "particularly birdy" category. Situated on the northwest side of the Santa Rita mountains about 25 miles south of Tucson it holds the third highest species count in Arizona. Desert scrub in the lower and upper Sonoran zones transitions to grasslands to woodlands all the way to up to the Canadian zone at the highest elevations, where one can find Douglas fir and aspen. It snows here in winter, and the canyon features a riparian zone where water flows for much of the year, a rarity in this part of the world. There is also the Santa Rita Lodge where one is invited to sit and watch their feeders for hummingbirds and other SE Arizona specialties, and, further up the canyon, the much sought-after elegant trogon, a Mexican and Central American species that pushes up into the southern-most portions of the Madrean Sky Islands.

The first order of business on day two, however, was to get out into Marcy's neighborhood and photograph the species I'd seen the day before. I find that, generally speaking, city birds are easier to capture as they are more accustomed to us and tolerate our nearness. At the end of her driveway I followed a small group of Lucy's warblers and got a few decent images. This is perhaps the most plain of our North American warblers but it has a beautiful song.

Lucy's Warbler, life bird #557

 

Gamble's quail were all over, calling from every nook and cranny. They were like wild chickens roaming the neighborhood. This couple seemed to have territory at the neighbor's house. I'd seen the similar California quail in Utah but could never get this close. I saw the pair and just stopped in road and waited, and the male practically walked up to me. Adorable little things!

Gamble's quail cock, life bird #562

Gamble's quail hen. I want to pinch her little cheeks.

We also encountered a lot of desert cottontails who seemed quite tame.

Out on the street I was able to put the sun behind me and finally get some well-lit images. This verdin posed nicely in a mesquite. I'd seen this bird several years prior but for literally 2 seconds, never having a chance at photos. This was a common species in the lower elevations.

Verdin in a blooming mesquite tree.

Rufous-winged sparrows are referred to as the "chipping sparrow of the west," being nearly as ubiquitous and similar in appearance.

Rufous-winged sparrow, life bird #558

The cactus were just starting to bud and bloom. While we were a bit early for the main event we did eventually find some in bloom.

Pricklypear cactus, probably Engleman's

The mesquite trees can grow quite large--up to 50 feet--and are an important plant for people and wildlife. They provide shelter from the hot sun, nectar when in bloom, food in the form of seeds and the insects that are gleaned from its leaves. The wood is exceptionally hard and is used for cooking, fence posts, and tool handles. It's in the legume family so makes pods that are edible and can be ground down into a flour.

We got a bit of a late start on our drive to Madera. Everyone was still tired from the previous day's adventure and we hadn't had time to recover from our three-day haul across the country. By the time we reached the grasslands it was already hot (the high in Tucson was forecast for the mid-90s again) and there wasn't much going on. In these lower elevations you've gotta bird early or late in order to get the birds when they're most active.

We stopped at several locations before heading up into the mountains. I picked up a Cassin's vireo at the Proctor Road hotspot, then we stopped for lunch at the Madera Picnic Area, where I finally got some photos of the Mexican jay.

We had just started eating when I saw a painted redstart nearby so I grabbed my camera and tried for some better photos. There was a small group of people about 100 feet away who were clearly birders so I called out to let them know. A man and woman came over but by the time they got to us the bird was gone. The lady left but the man ambled over to the picnic table and proceeded to mansplain birding to us. He was clearly one of these dudes who likes to hear himself talk and wanted to help out the little ladies. He commenced to explain to us that there are many smart phone apps that aid with bird identification blah blah blah. Now mind you this is after I've just called out a species, and I am dressed in my birding "uniform," complete with my Tilly hat adorned with bird pins. 

I was annoyed and kept turning my back on him but Marcy, who is a local, had to be a bit more gracious. Turns out he too lives in Tucson and is an active birder. After at least 15 minutes he askes, quite casually, if we've been enjoying the owls. Now, he saw us roll in and sit down to lunch so knows damn well that we haven't looked at any owls. Turns out that group nearby was watching a pair of Northern pygmy owls that live there at the picnic area. I grabbed my camera and left.

Northern pygmy owl with lizard. Life bird #574

There was indeed a pair but only one was out in the open and easy to photograph. Note the dark "eye" spots on the back of it's head. This is to confuse predators that might want to make a meal of this relatively small owl.

From the picnic area we drove a short distance to the Santa Rita Lodge. This is a must-stop location if you are birding in the region. They offer lodging but also allow visitors to come sit and watch the feeders (asking for a 30 minute maximum for parking). There's no charge to use the facility so we bought a few things in the gift shop and watched all manner of hummingbirds vie for the best spots at the feeders.

Feeders and viewing area at Santa Rita lodge.

Perhaps the most common hummingbird in the region is the broad-billed, and what a stunner this bird is. It was easy to overlook them, they were so common. After a while we'd catch ourselves sayin "oh, it's just another broad-billed."

Broad-billed hummingbird. I'd seen my first in Marcy's neighborhood, so life bird #561

Black-chinned hummingbirds were also fairly common. This bird most closely resembles our only eastern species, the ruby-throated. I was never able to get a good look at him with his gorget in the sun, but it is a deep purple/indigo. 

Black-chinned hummingbird

Because we had Bailey, the girls took turns hanging back by the road. Good thing, because Lisa found a pair of bridled titmice working over an oak. 

Bridled titmouse, life bird #577

Back at the feeders we finally were treated to another hummingbird species, the very large Rivoli's (formerly the magnificent) hummingbird. At five inches long it is a bruiser among hummers (the black-chinned is 3.5"). The bright sun made photographing these birds a challenge.

Rivoli's hummingbird, life bird #580

I managed to miss a Scott's oriole that was hanging around at the edges of things, but I did add Arizona woodpecker, black-headed grosbeak, and hepatic tanager to my list. 

Arizona woodpecker, life bird #578

Hepatic tanager, life bird #576

Black-headed grosbeak, life bird #575

We left the lodge and holed up at the amphitheater for an hour or so. It was 3:00 in the afternoon, a terrible time to go birding. We were ultimately headed to the end of the road and a hike up the mountain in search of an elegant trogon, but decided to take a break and wait until later in the afternoon. It was so pleasant in the mountains, warm but not hot, and the sun shone through oaks and sycamores along the creek. We chased a few birds around, and had this gorgeous grey hawk circle overhead a few times, but mostly we sat with our boots off and enjoyed the quiet.

 

Gray hawk.

We eventually made our way to the upper parking area and the trailhead. We carried water and hiking poles and optics and hiked up the mountain. We talked to a few people who had either heard the trogon themselves or who had talked to others who had heard/seen them. We reached the spot where they had been most active but it was quiet. Lisa and I pushed farther up the Carrie Nation trail to where it crosses the creek, leaving Lori (and her new knees) to keep watch. 

We ended up dipping on the trogon (wouldn't be the first time) but it was such a gorgeous day that we hardly noticed.

Lori enjoyed being able to walk again.

Water in the creek was intermittent. Sometimes it was on the surface, sometimes underground. The sound of it was welcome and magical in this arid, drought-ridden region.

We left the Santa Ritas without a trogon but we would have other chances. We arrived back in town for a late dinner (this became a theme) and headed to bed. Arizona doesn't do Daylight Saving Time so they are essentially on Pacific time in the summer. This means an early sunrise (pre-6:00 am) and an early sunset (7:00 pm) in mid-April. That's a strange thing for us, where the sun is setting well after 8:00 pm this time of year.

Day three (April 22nd) would be more about connecting with old friends than about birds, but there was still plenty of amazing things to see.  That's coming up next.

Southeast Arizona's "Sky Islands"--A Long Overdue Birding Adventure

Over the past few years we have had several major, out-of-state trips canceled for one reason or another. In June of 2020 we had a trip to Alaska scheduled. We were to rent an RV and drive the Alaska Highway, visit Tok, Fairbanks, Denali, then down to Homer to paddle Katchemak Bay. After that we were to head over to Seward for a day on a sight-seeing trip to Northwestern Glacier. But all of that was canned due to COVID. Then last year I signed us up for a guided birding trip to Colombia, the country with the most species of birds (over 1900). That trip, set to happen in early December 2021, got switched to a trip to Costa Rica when not enough people signed up for Colombia. Then the tour company went out of business.

I was determined that we were going to go somewhere. We had travelled to the Badlands, Yellowstone, and Grand Teton in 2016 and that had been our last big adventure. I looked at our schedule and saw a gap in April, then I looked at my bucket list. Arizona popped out like an engorged tick. (Well, that doesn't sound pleasant.) Like an angry pimple. Oh never mind, you know what I mean.  I had never been to the state and had never birded the southwest. Also there's a big birding festival in the state in August (monsoon season) that I would like to do some day, but that would mean having work of the region's birds. I talked to the girls and they approved so I planned the trip.

We almost had to cancel our plans again when, on our way to a show in SE Michigan the week before we were to leave for Arizona, the wheels literally fell off. Less than an hour from home the bearings seized on the camper and the tire fell off. We nearly missed the show but Lisa came to deal with getting the camper to the repair shop and we continued to Novi, staying with my mom during the show.

I think we need that....

It took six hours and multiple tow trucks to get the thing to the repair shop (that's a story of its own) and when the mechanic looked at it the following Monday he said we needed a new axle, and that wouldn't be available for 4-6 weeks. Not only did that mean to trip to Arizona was in jeopardy but it was also going to affect our show season. There are a myriad of reasons whey we camp at shows rather than get hotels (which, again, could be its own post) so we considered our options, which were few.

You would not believe what this cost.

What we ended up doing was buying a new (used) camper. It was not an expense we were planning for but after talking it through we decided to take the plunge, get something a bit bigger that would be better suited for all three of us (even though it's often just me on the road) and then sell the other camper after it's fixed. Much like used cars, campers are in high demand still. We got lucky with this one (two feet longer, 6" wider, and has a slide out) as it had just come in the day before as a trade-in. We snatched it up. Not only is it much nicer than our other camper (better quality parts and build) but it has a double axle. This way, if a wheel falls off, there's another one that will at least allow us to limp to the repair shop.

This thing feels super fancy compared to what we've had in the past, and I in turn feel super spoiled. It's amazing what a difference having that couple extra feet that the slide-out gives you in the center of the camper--it feels enormous even though it's not much bigger than the Wolf Pup. Of course it came with it's own set of problems. We bought it on a Tuesday but had to leave it until Saturday so they could "prep it." That meant leaving two days late, but that was better than not going at all. But when we got it home it became clear they hadn't actually done a damn thing, and we discovered that the water system leaked and was not usable and we couldn't get the refrigerator to light (we fixed that on the road), among other things. We decided to deal with the inconvenience and just go.

Arizona is a big state but we planned to focus on the southeast region for one main reason--the "sky islands." For more detail you can look them up but basically they were formed by volcanic activity hundreds of millions of years ago. They lie in a region that connects the southern Rockies and the Colorado Plateau to the Sierra Madres in Mexico.  Because they are surrounded by a "sea" of desert and desert scrub each mountain range is essentially cut off from the others, hence the idea of islands. 

The region is rich in biodiversity because as one travels up in elevation, the climate changes and creates differing bioregions that support completely different species. According to the Sky Island Alliance, there are nine bioregions, or life zones, in the mountains of Southeast Arizona: Sonoran Desert scrub, desert grassland, open oak woodland, canyon woodland, pine – oak woodland, pine – oak forest, pine forest, montane fir forest, and subalpine forest. The Pinaleño Mountains and the Santa Catalina Mountains are two of the ranges in southeastern Arizona that reach the highest life zone (subalpine forest). 

Here's a graphic I found online showing the different bioregions or life zones: 

This all means that one can travel 6,000 feet up and visit habitat consistent with travelling 1,000 miles north. It hosts hundreds of bird species, some resident, some breeders, some migrants using the mountains to hopscotch north. Also, because it's so close to the border there are some species there that are not normally found in the states, such as elegant trogon, eared quetzal, and flame-colored tanager. It is, in short, a birder's paradise. 

We busted our butts to get there in three days. We stayed with Marcy Gray, a most gracious host who allowed us to park next to her house, plug into her electricity and use her showers. Not only that but she spent two days driving us all over the place. She has a guide book-level knowledge of the region and what birds are where and when they can be found. She liked to point out to people we met on our travels that she's not a professional guide but she sure as hell could be.

We had arrived with just enough time before dark to set up the camper, so I was up and out at dawn the next day to have a look around. Wow. Her neighborhood sits at the southern edge of the Santa Catalinas in Tucson, and the morning sun lit them up. I had Bailey with me so I'd left my camera back at the ranch--there were far too many pokey, bitey things that he could get into and with his intensely impetuous nature that I had to watch him like a hawk. Even so, I managed to see five new species in the 15 minutes we were out. I decided I needed to get up even earlier the next day and head out with my camera.

Chain-fruit cholla (pronounced choy-a).
One of the many pokey things I had to keep Bailey--and myself--out of. 

Fruits of a staghorn cholla.

I'd had something of an itinerary planned out and had wanted to head to Saguaro National Park the first day, but the forecast was for highs in mid-90s. I am not a fan of the heat so we rearranged our plans and headed up into the mountains. One of the reasons the sky islands host such great diversity is that, in addition to squeezing out what moisture is left from the winter rains coming in off the Pacific, the temperature gets gradually cooler the higher up one travels--it can be 25-30 degrees cooler at the highest elevations than down in the desert. Day one, therefore, saw us head up into the Santa Catalinas and up to Mt. Lemmon.

This is a beautiful, twisty drive with many pull outs. I'm grateful that Marcy was driving as I would have been distracted by the views at every turn.  We were gobsmacked by the saguaros, which grow up to an elevation of about 4,000 feet. 

Looking south towards Tucson from the Babad Do'ag Vista.

The first bird I photographed was the rather ubiquitous black-throated sparrow. I chased a pair around a shrub at the overlook until the male gave up and came out and perched, singing . 

Black-throated sparrow, life bird #563.

As promised, the higher we drove the habitat changed. We found Woodhouse's scrub jays and Townsend's warblers at 5,000 feet, but another couple hundred feet higher and the jays were the similar but distinct Mexican jay.

Woodhouse's scrub jay, life bird #564

We stopped in the Bear Canyon area and stayed until lunch. I chased a bunch of birds around, including this gorgeous yellow-eyed junco. They too were quite ubiquitous and I had many opportunities to photograph them. Being in the sparrow family they were typically low to the ground and easy to photograph.

Yellow-eyed junco, life bird #567. (eBird doesn't record birds in order of when you see them but in 
taxonomic order, if they are all in one report. I did actually see them before the redstarts
and Grace's that follow.)

There was nothing easy about photographing the painted redstart. A low to mid canopy dweller they were constantly on the move. While bright sunshine is good for the soul it's awful for shooting a black bird in a shady tree.  I was happy to come away with anything. Some photographers will use playback (playing a species' song over a speaker) to try to bring a bird in closer for better photos but that's not my thing. I settle for what they give me.

Painted redstart, life bird #565. This image could use more processing
but I don't have time for that right now!

The redstart has a habit of fanning its wings and tail, and I was happy to catch a couple shots of this behavior.

I lucked out and fired off a couple shots of a warbler moving through a pine near our picnic table. Turned out to be a Grace's warbler, one of only two I saw (and the only one I got pics of).

Grace's warbler, life bird #566

As we pushed up the mountain Marcy turned us down Incinerator Road, with "road" used loosely. It wasn't terrible but I'm glad she has a high-clearance vehicle. We found our target there--red-faced warbler.

Red-faced warbler, life bird #569

We drove to the end of the road near Mt. Lemmon, then headed back down, stopping in the town of Summerhaven. This place has been recently burned in wildfires and is being rebuilt. The whole region, already hot and dry, is getting hotter and drier, and wildfires are becoming a greater risk with each passing year.

View from (near) the top.

Sabino Creek begins just outside Summerhaven and runs all the way down the Santa Catalinas to Marcy's neighborhood. In Summerhaven it had water, but by the time it reached Tucson it was dry. Up here the creek attracted all kinds of birds, including a large flock of pine siskin, song sparrows, juncos, thrushes, and towhees.

Spotted towhee, not a lifer but first decent photos I've gotten of one.

Another yellow-eyed junco because jeepers that's a gorgeous little bird.

Burn-scarred trees in Summerhaven.

We made a few stops on the way back down to take in the views, which were prettier in the slanting afternoon light.

We made it back to town at dusk and Marcy treated us to dinner at El Charro, a restaurant celebrating it's 100th year. Another big WOW right there!

Next: day 2, the Santa Rita mountains and Madera Canyon.