Saguaro National Park

Saguaro National Park is divided into two parts, one on the east side of Tucson, and the other on the west side. Today we visited the east section as we headed to Willcox for Wings over Willcox. Two immediate things - it has fewer Saguaro cacti than the west section, the result of cattle grazing for a longer period. Also, it seems more colorful, even in mid-January, which isn't really reflected in this picture. Take a look at this purple Cholla and you can see part of the color. The desert mistletoe has a reddish tint too, and grows more often than the park staff would prefer I bet. We headed down the loop drive, stopping for overlooks, a bird song heard through the car window, or just a chance to walk down a trail for a while.

Desert Mistletoe A bird sang sweetly from the top of a cactus, and at first we thought it sounded like a Mockingbird, changing songs frequently. However, when we actually found it, we saw the most curved bill ever, and knew it was the Curve-billed Thrasher, a relative of the Mockingbird. As we walked along, it seemed to follow us down the trail, just to make sure we were properly appreciative of it's talents. When we tried to approach, it swooped down to the ground and disappeared in the brush.

The top of a cactus is the favorite place for a little Gila Woodpecker gossip.

OK, I admit to having a vivid imagination sometimes. I keep seeing Saguaro as people. Guess it comes from those Christmas ornaments with Saguaro in costumes. Sometimes, they are doing a square dance like this cacti couple. "Swing your partner" has a new meaning in the desert! Other times I picture them signaling to each other in semaphore with the position of their arms. Do they hold their arms in those same positions after people are gone? Do they send different messages when they are alone in the desert? We'll never know, will we, since they resume the last recorded position whenever someone looks again. The ones with arms hanging down must have been talking the longest and got tired. I kept expecting to see the Lone Ranger and Silver galloping around the rocks and cactus in some spots. Waiting for the Lone Ranger. High Ho Silver!

Raptor Free Flight

We just spent the most marvelous day at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, and did not get to do everything we wanted. But they have the best raptor program I have ever seen, and I see all I can go to. The program is on the grounds, among the Saguaro Cactus, rather than in a building - important point #1 - so these birds could fly away any time they want to. They fly from perch to perch, buzzing the heads of the viewers. I told Dick they must not like his red hat, he got strafed so often.

I could make about 5 separate posts here with just the pictures from each raptor we saw, let alone the other desert birds and landscape. Let's cut to the chase, and just go for the photos, which became easier after I saw the handler putting little bits of meat on the next branch the bird would go to.

They have a family of Harris Hawks who all came at one time in the afternoon show. It's amazing that no other raptor lives and hunts in a pack, essentially. The female is always in charge of the family.

This Chihuahuan Raven chuckled as he lightly touched someone's head while flying over. "Every time," quoth the Raven. "Ole"

Don't think this American Kestral is just a sweet tiny bird. It is a mighty hunter.

I wouldn't want a Ferruginous Hawk smiling at me from a branch. Looks like she's giving us the eye as her next breakfast! Her mouth is so wide she can swallow her prey whole if necessary. I know, this isn't a raptor, but a Cactus Wren. They are all over the place, and noisy in the wren tradition. I was surprised to see they are about the size of a Robin, not the small eastern wrens I am familiar with.

And there was morning and evening of the second day, and it was good.....not even mentioning the little Costa's Hummingbird and Broad Billed Hummingbirds we saw. I can't spell Phainopepla without looking it up again, but we saw a bunch of them. Wishing has made it so once more - our first Western Tanager was in the aviary! Next on the wish list is a Roadrunner - meep! meep!

Ducks in the Desert?

With a map from the rental car company , some directions from a phone call to the Tucson Audubon Society and LOTS of determination, we found the most unlikely place here in Arizona. Part of the challange was overcoming the closure of most exit and entrance ramps on I-10 in downtown Tucson!

The Sweetwater Wetland is a sewer treatment pond, which attracts hundreds of ducks and other birds. I never would have thought of looking for ducks and water fowl in the Arizona desert, but we have always had good luck birding at water treatment ponds. We saw more varieties of ducks here than I normally would see in Kentucky or Indiana. Northern Shovelers were the most common, although we also saw:

American Widgeon, Mallard , Northern Pintail** , American Black Duck , Blue Winged Teal , Cinnamon Teal**, Green Winged Teal , Bufflehead (female) , Ruddy Duck (female)

As the sun set, a noisy flock of Red Winged Blackbirds, Yellow Headed Blackbirds and Brewer's Blackbirds sailed in for the evening and perched like bright yellow flowers.

A family of Harris Hawks lives nearby, and apparently views this territory as their own. We saw one hawk perched on a power pole, then saw it actually fighting (talons extended and everything) with a falcon! How's that for an exciting first day birding!

A bird resembling a Phoebe, but a bit larger, perched on a branch above the water, darting out for a bug and returning to wait for the next one. Turns out to be a Black Phoebe. We also got a quick glimpse of a Gambel's Quail and an Anna's Hummingbird. At first I thought it was a Costa, but closer examination of the field guide changed my mind.

24 species we could identify and 8 new additions to the life list. And there was afternoon, and there was evening of the first day. And it was good...

A World of Watchers

"Implements for Collecting: The double barrelled shotgun is your main reliance. Get the best one you can afford for your particular purpose which is the destruction of small birds with the least possible damage to their plumage. Begin by shooting every bird you can. Pierce the bird's brain with a knife to kill it quickly. Record, label and measure carefully and promptly, noting sex, age, and contents of stomach. Fifty birds shot is a good day's work."

This is the advice of ornithologist Elliott Coues to the would-be bird "collector" in 1874. Bird collectors also had to be their own taxidermists to preserve the birds collected. Today, such advice would not be appreciated. In fact, it turns my stomach just thinking about it. However, if you substitute the word "camera" or "binoculars" for shotgun, it sounds fairly familiar.

Joseph Kastner's book, A World of Watchers, describes the history of bird collecting and its evolution to bird watching. All the birds with people names, such as Brewer, Baird, Cooper and Cassin, are named after the early ornithologists. Early bird clubs were quite exclusive in nature. The Nuttall Ornithological Club required members to live in the Cambridge, MA, city limits to belong as full members. If they missed a meeting, a 25 cent fine was charged. Good thing my club doesn't do that! I'd be broke!

Few women were involved in birding in the early days. In fact, the elite Delaware Valley Ornithological Club (DVOC) constitution allowed only men to be members at all. Women were permitted to watch birds, but not in the club's territory. How gracious of them. Sounds like male birds in the spring! Here's the kicker -- women were finally accepted in 1982! The Nuttall Club didn't admit women until 1974, after its centennial celebration!

Other than male chauvinism, why weren't women more involved? Binoculars didn't exist. One might have acquired a military spy glass, but they were heavy and not easy to use. The best way to observe the bird accurately was to shoot it and examine the corpse. Of course, it isn't lady-like for women to traipse around in the fields with a shotgun wearing a corset and long skirts . Women started bird watching using little 2X opera glasses in the field.

The phrase "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush" derives from these early collectors. Shooting a bird but letting it get away didn't count. Only collecting the body counted. And why worry about running out of birds? There are so many, shooting a 100 or so here and there can't possibly make a difference, right? There are times, I must admit, when binoculars don't really let me get a good look at the bird, but then I wouldn't be a good enough hunter to collect them either. With luck, I might get as many as I now photograph!

Excerpts from birding journals make me chuckle a bit. Observations aren't limited to appearance and behavior, but the behavior is compared to human moral standards. The House Wren generated great controversy in 1915. Althea Sherman, in Iowa, described the House Wren as a deadly menace given to dangerous practices. The wren's "diabolical disposition alone prompts it to destructive acts." It is a "blacker villain" than she had thought, "why not let children raise rattlers?" Another journal keeper tended to ascribe the Boy Scout virtues to birds - loyal, kind, trustworthy, etc. If people don't display good moral behavior, why expect birds to do so?

George Bird Grinnell, the founder of the American Ornithologists Union, called for the formation of a society to protect wild birds, naming it the Audubon Society. 40,000 enrolled in the first year. A group of Boston women, the Massachusetts Audubon Society, began the crusade against using bird feathers in women's hats. The tactics taken in the struggle are fascinating. Bird protection laws were drafted and passed by most states by 1910. The Migratory Bird Protection Treaty with Canada was adopted in 1916. Of course, greed and profit can still overcome avian welfare. The Audubon Society Timeline gives more details on the club's history and conservation efforts. The Society also awards a medal to those Heroes of nature.

Sorry to dump a book report on you, they still have bad connotations from grade school days. But this story is much more involved that I would ever have imagined as an amateur birdwatcher. We are the heirs of a great movement in history, and now I can appreciate that much better. Next week we are headed to Willcox, AZ, not far from Tucson, for the Wings over Willcox festival. And I promise, I'll only be shooting birds with a camera.

New Year Greetings

I came, I purred, I conquered.

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. More important than your sleep certainly.

Don't wake me up unless the house is on fire, or it's time to eat.

I never blink first.

Mabel, look what Santa brought us for Christmas!

Now if I can just figure out how to get in these little holes.

Who says animals can't talk? Only people who never listen!
Best wishes for 2009, from our house to yours.

Christmas Magic

Childhood Christmas memories are stronger and better than any others. I remember waking up early, and going out to plug in the Christmas tree. Those big 2 inch lights lit up the entire room, and I sat there just enjoying it. Every 30 minutes or so, I'd go ask Mom, "Can we get up now? Is it time for Christmas yet?" Of course, I didn't realize at 3:00 in the morning, that she probably hadn't been asleep too long. Why isn't she excited about Christmas? By 4:30 or so, she would let me open one present, if I promised not to bother her again for a few hours. In triumph, I'd plug the lights back in and find the book I knew would be there. The Bobbsey Twins latest adventure read by Christmas tree lights - now that's a thrill!

My mother was one of six children, and all of them lived in our little town except one uncle. Grandma's house was stuffed with aunts and uncles and cousins, the windows steaming till we had to open the door to let the heat out. We made fresh chicken salad and ham salad every year, and Grandma's famous 3 layer Christmas Jello mold. Of course, we kids would only eat the plain red layer! The house had high ceilings - 10 feet at least - and we went to an uncle's farm to cut a fresh cedar tree for Grandma, one that would brush the ceiling. The first year she had a store bought pine tree I just about cried. The moon and stars always shone brighter at Grandma's house on Christmas Eve than any other place or time, throwing shadows on the sidewalk.

It's funny how the holidays tend to blur together as an adult. Maybe it's because we feel pressed by the responsibilities of our families, and just don't capture those individual moments as much as we did when children. I'll have to ask my kids if they have any special memories and see what sticks in their minds. For now, my blessings are my husband and children. Everyone is healthy and either employed or retired as they wish. In this economy, having a job is good, even if it's not necessarily the job of your dreams.

Merry Christmas, and God Bless Us Every One!

Six Random Things

A side effect of sitting before a computer in the IT Department all day is that I don't get on my computer at home unless there are some new photos to work with. Thus, it took over a week for me to see that Katdoc had tagged me for this! Sorry for the delay Kathy, but here goes. And Merry Christmas!

1. Athletic Activities: I used to go whitewater rafting in West Virginia every fall, on the New River or the Gauley. One year we went on the Upper Gauley (serious whitewater) during the remnants of Hurricane Hugo. I smashed my front teeth in on the paddle, and after three root canals to repair the damage, decided to take up riding and showing American Saddlebred horses, a safer activity! Now hiking around looking for birds is as active as I get--as long as it doesn't make me sweat.

2. Trivia: I love trivia! Jeopardy is my favorite TV show. I took the online test once, but didn't do very well, so I'll just continue being the armchair Jeopardy champion. I've always wanted to know everything.

3. Retirement: It's coming soon, and I have great plans. I want to write a book about the Falls of the Ohio using my photos. The Kentucky Raptor Rehab can always use more volunteers. I'll be the best raptor presentation giver they've ever had! Or course, we want to travel too - National Parks, Wildlife Refuges, any place with birds and nature.

4. Winter: Winter makes me SAD. It's dark when I leave for the office and dark when I come home. I pack a lunch, and don't get out at all during the day. I'd like to just hibernate like a bear and sleep until Spring.

5. Warm and fuzzy: I have a double sided fleece blanket (with cardinals on it) which is the warmest thing I've ever seen. The cat sits on my lap and we both are comfy cozy for a nice nap in the easy chair.

6. Mountains: I burned up a set of brakes (literally - there was smoke trailing behind us) in the Smokies once and have distrusted mountains ever since. At Rocky Mountain National Park, I got altitude sickness and felt just awful till we came back down to a lower elevation. I have absolutely no interest in skiing since it requires both mountains and cold.

So that's about all there is to know about me....

Now, who to tag next? I follow the same people's blogs that Katdoc does mostly. That's how I found her and her wonderful sense of humor. We have friends who volunteer with my husband at Bernheim Forest and Arboretum. They don't have individual blogs mostly, but all contribute to one jointly, so I'm going to tag several people there. If I've tagged anyone else who has been tagged a dozen times before, my apologies.

Bob Lenning at Naturewriter and Thingamabobs
Wren at Naturewriter
Tavia at Naturewriter
Terrell at Naturewriter
Swampy at Swampthings
Kathie at Sycamore Canyon
Here are the rules for Six Random Things:

1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
5. Let each person know they've been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.

'Bama Bugs and Butterflies

The Alabama Gulf Coast abounds in bugs and butterflies, particularly with large dragonflies. I've been able to identify the butterflies, which posed cooperatively for the camera. The dragonflies, however, are perpetual motion insects, rarely lading anywhere long enough to focus the camera. Any names you see on them may well just be a descriptive name so I can tell one shot from another. If anyone knows the names of these dragonflies, I'd sure be glad to learn. The large yellow dragonflies never did land, that I could see. Once we saw a large yellow helicopter flying over, and I quickly told Dick to look up at the giant yellow dragonfly going over!

Painted Lady

Gulf Fritillary - topside

Gulf Fritillary - bottom side

Common Buckeye

Why do butterflies go to the beach?

Long-tailed Skipper

Mystery bug - looks vicious

A 2 inch long spider

I'm glad dragonflies aren't 3 feet big as there were in prehistoric times.

Big fat dragonflies are a favorite Kestrel food.

Don't want to find this beetle in my shoes!

Red Saddlebag Dragonfly

Who's Awake?

They say all good things must end, including vacations. We try to stretch ours out by stopping at Wheeler National Wildlife Refuge in Northern Alabama along the Tennessee River. The drought is just terrible and all the wetlands are dry lands where the migrating waterfowl should be stopping to feed. Acres of water lily leaves blow in the breeze, three feet above the mud which is all that remains of the lake edges. We walked a few trails, but saw little in the way of birds. The volunteers in the Visitors Center are both retired and spend their time going from Park to Refuge around the country, living in their RV and having a wonderful time. We got some good ideas from them to investigate for our retirement plans.

A cave where ten thousand grey bats reside is nearby, and we head down to it around sunset. Although the afternoon warmed up nicely, as the sun set, the temperature dropped with it. The spring in the cave poured out into a beaver pond, so this was one place with plenty of water available. The Downy and Red Bellied Woodpeckers chattered and flew about until it was almost too dark to see, but no bats left the cave that we found. How do they know when it's time to come out anyway? we wondered.

Just as we started back to the car, I heard a soft call along the shore. "Who's awake?" it asked. "I'm awake," came the response, "Me too!" Once again, wishing has made it so. We kept thinking there should be owls along the beaver pond, and now we hear Great Horned Owls! Dick hooted back, and at first, we thought there was only one bird, responding to his hoots, even though neither of us knew what the other was saying. Finally we decided there were two birds talking to each other and trying to ignore this intruder to their conversation. Especially, since he didn't speak owl very well. After a few minutes, we actually saw the two owls take wing and leave for another part of the woods. I thought I heard them mutter something about rude people who wouldn't stop talking as they flew away.

We awoke early, as usual (will this always happen when we retire?), and got an early start on our bird watching. The cave area was fogged in, so we headed to some bottom land forests. Beautiful trees! A Hermit Thrush sang a duet with itself - another life bird for us. Two Red Shouldered Hawks shouted at each other from a swampy area, but hid from our view. Small Kinglets, Warblers, Chickadees and Nuthatches darted from branch to branch, chattering happily. Again, as we headed back to the car, we heard a soft call from the trees nearby. "Who cooks for you?" this one asked. It's 10:00 in the morning. Could there be a Barred Owl looking for breakfast this late in the day? Dick tried to talk to it again. This time the voice moved to a nearer tree, then stopped. I think she decided we were not good cooks when she saw us. If we had heard a Screech Owl too we really would have scored an Owl hat-trick!

It was a perfect day to drive home. The fall foliage was at its peak in northern Alabama. The hillsides were a crazy quilt pattern of yellow, gold, bronze, russet, orange, and scarlet on a background of deep pine green, with white fingers of Sycamore reaching through the canopy here and there, and a brilliant sky blue above. As we crossed into Tennessee, we could see the colors beginning to fade a bit. By the time we reached Louisville, the hills were the brown and grey we will see for the rest of the winter for the most part. Hawks soared, just enjoying the day, I think, more than they were hunting.

I have a comment to make to those drivers on I-65, in their cars, trucks, and SUV's, their RV's pulling horse trailers, and their semis. I heard you cursing at me, as you passed going 70 mph and more.

My Prius going at 63 mph, gets 52-54 miles per gallon on a regular basis. If there's a good stretch of downhill, it can reach 58 miles per gallon. HA! Top that, Bub!