"Quick Arizona Trip..."

February 10

I awoke in my sleeping bag, the first rays of light barely coming over the Franklin Mountains. Sprawling El Paso lies not far in the distance, just beyond the peaks. I was unemployed. I was seeking birds. I was free. 

After six years managing a nature center, suddenly in November 2020, I found myself jobless. After doing some bird guiding, and making some solid progress on my yoga instructor certification, I decided to take a trip to Southeast Arizona to see the five species of birds that have been wintering there that I’ve never seen before: Williamson’s Sapsucker, Violet-crowned Hummingbird, Rufous-backed Robin, Olive Warber, and Sagebrush Sparrow. Franklin Mountains State Park was night number two of my trek from the Rio Grande Valley of Texas, to Southeast Arizona. 

There was barely enough light to see well enough to pack my tent without the aid of a lantern, but I hadn't used an alarm. No need for it when I had my internal clock, paired with excitement for the birds that were to be seen. Within 10 minutes, I was on the road winding down the mountain, and out of the park. Suddenly, a dozen or so Scaled Quail flushed from close to the road. It was in that moment that it hit me: I'd had amazing luck in January birding in Florida; I'd been guiding in the Rio Grande Valley and seen literally all the rarities there. Before I left for Arizona, I had already logged 286 birds for the United States. Scaled Quail just made 287. Why was I going to Arizona to see only five birds? 

I had a three hour drive upon which to think, en route to join my friend John for some birding near Portal- in initial hopes to see my first "eBird life bird" a bird I had seen before, but didn't eBird before it split. Sagebrush Sparrow was Sage Sparrow last time I saw it. Sage Sparrow had been split into Bell's Sparrow in the west and Sagebrush Sparrow farther east. The split had happened sometime over the last several years when I wasn't birding much, and other hobbies - Latin dance, archery, and training for American Ninja Warrior - were taking up the majority of my free time. 

When I got to John, I was still mulling the idea over. I didn't really plan to go everywhere and try to break a record or anything, but it would be fun to try to see more species of birds this year than I'd ever seen previously in my life. I'd been birding for 22 years, and by the end of 2020, my ABA list was at 653, meaning I was thinking about trying to see 654 species this year. John's first response when I told him my thoughts: "We have to get you Mexican Chickadee!" This little one has an extremely limited range in the United States and is only found in a very small corner of Southeast Arizona's Chiricahua Mountains. And so we went! The Mexican Chickadees were seemingly nowhere to be found, absent from all their usual places. I did pick up twenty new birds for the year, including Mexican Jay, Yellow-eyed Junco, and Arizona Woodpecker. 

Next was on to meet Ken. We'd been Facebook friends for quite some time, but never met in person. I'd be staying one night at Casa de San Pedro, where Ken and his partner Allee are the resident guides. 

February 11

I picked Ken and Allee's brains about starting my own guiding company, and we spent the morning birding. Ten more birds - Abert's Towhee, Gila Woodpecker, and Mexican Duck near the river in the yard of the bed & breakfast; Rufous-crowned Sparrow, Black-chinned Sparrow, Dark-eyed Junco, Canyon Wren, and Bushtit in Hunter Canyon; Painted Redstart, Rivoli's Hummingbird (lots of recalibrating to do - this was Magnificent Hummingbird last time I saw it!) in Ramsey Canyon. After some great birds amidst conversation about guiding rates, policies, and forms, I was off on my way to Patagonia. Solo adventure time. 

I arrived at Patagonia Lake State Park mid-afternoon, and figuring the birding likely wasn't too active anyway, first made a stop at my campsite to set up. It was less than ideal - a tent amidst a sea of RV's, but really I just needed a place to sleep - I'd be birding the rest of the day and off before sunrise the next morning. After setting up, I drove over to the birding trailhead. A Rufous-backed Robin was my target here, along with Black-capped Gnatcatcher, and there'd been an (apparently tailless) male Elegant Trogon seen recently. It was warm and the birding was quiet. I picked up Brewer's Blackbird at the feeders by the trailhead, along with great looks at Curve-billed Thrasher, which looks and sounds very unlike the Curve-billed Thrashers I am accustomed to in the Rio Grande Valley. The lake produced my year Common Mergansers, as well as Eared Grebe, and some flyover Yellow-headed Blackbirds around sunset. The gnatcatcher and robin hadn't been seen recently, and I didn't have luck with them, either. 

February 12 

By sunrise, I was at the Paton Center for Hummingbirds, eagerly awaiting my lifer Violet-crowned Hummingbird. Despite two separate trips here nearly a decade ago, I had never crossed paths with one. Within less than five minutes, one was feeding at the hummingbird feeder right next to my car! Wow! I waited about an hour to see if the Broad-billed Hummingbird would show up, but it did not. Wandering down Blue Haven Road towards the Sonoita Preserve, I carefully searched for the Rufous-backed Robin that had recently been seen there. No luck with the robin, but I did happen upon a woman walking her dog who pointed out a Western Screech-Owl roosting in a cavity in a small tree. 
Violet-crowned Hummingbird at Paton’s

On to the third Rufous-backed Robin spot - the De Anza Trail at Santa Gertrudis Lane, near Tubac. I spent about half an hour birding before I ran into a man birding right on the creek. He was watching a Lawrence's Goldfinch, which can be a relatively difficult bird to track down. He also told me that he'd had the Rufous-backed Robin about an hour and a half ago in some cottonwoods down the trail just a few hundred yards. A fairly non-descript Gray Flycatcher perched across the creek in a tree. The birder stayed and birded with me for another half an hour, and we picked through the American Robins until the Rufous-backed showed itself for a brief second, and then perched nearby for a better look. I'd searched for this bird at this same location a decade ago, so it felt exceptionally nice to have success this time! 

I drove up to Madera Canyon for the evening, with enough light to make some oatmeal with my camp stove next to my car in one of the parking areas. It was chilly, and would drop into the low 30s overnight. Warm food tasted exceptionally good. 

I practiced whistling in my car (I was cold!), and waited until after sunset, in hopes of hearing Whiskered Screech-Owl. Somehow, growing up I could whistle pretty well, when I had braces I could whistle pretty well, but ever since getting my braces off at age 18, whistling has been a struggle for me. I suppose, as with anything, it just takes practice. 

Turn out I got LOTS of practice whistling, as it took over an hour for me to find one, after I circled back to the Madera Picnic Area where I noticed my friend Raymond had one there a few months back. I listened to it call back for a few minutes, then was on to the next task: Where do I sleep tonight?

The campground was open, but it was small, and first-come first served. It was filled with mostly RVs upon arrival. Earlier in the day, I had driven past the primitive camping locations I was given as suggestions, but one was unreachable with my Chevy Spark, due to the rough road, and the others were miles from anywhere, amidst scrubby brush, and my tent and my tiny purple car were likely to be visible for miles. I decided I didn't feel safe camping out there alone, and if I could go back in time seven years, I would not have bought a car that appears by size and color to be fairly likely to be owned by a woman. I pulled back into the campground, and parked at the trailhead parking there, right next to the bathrooms. Now was as good a time as any to give it a try. Could I sleep in the back seat of my Chevy Spark? I moved my camping supplies to the front seat, laid out a comforter across the back, attempting a buffer between myself and the hard, plastic cupholders in the middle of the two back seats, unrolled my sleeping bag, crawled in, and locked my doors. There was no way to get my legs remotely straight, which alone might not have been a problem for me, but there was no physical way for me to stretch my legs full in any direction at all, even for a few minutes. I managed about six hours of sleep before I noticed the first bits of daylight coming. The quality of sleep and the location were not ideal, but it did feel good to know that I had a self-contained sleep option should the need ever arise again. 

February 13

I met Chris at the Whitehouse Canyon trailhead, and we drove covid- caravan style to Florida Canyon. A Phainopepla was perched near the road along the way, which would surprisingly be the only Phainopepla of my trip. Florida Canyon was exceptionally quiet - I had hoped to happen upon Olive Warbler or Black-capped Gnatcatcher, but incredible looks at a Crissal Thrasher singing at the top of its lungs while White-throated Swifts flitted about overhead, was good consolation nonetheless. 

I followed Chris to Kennedy Park in Tucson, where a female Williamson's Sapsucker had been reliable for quite some time. Two laps around the park checking through the pines, and found it, much obliging, lapping up sap from some recently drilled holes. After enjoying the bird for a good thirty minutes, I parted ways with Chris and headed on to see the Northern Jacana on the Santa Cruz River, and finished my day with a flyover Rosy-faced Lovebird at Encanto Park in Phoenix. I would have stayed longer, trying to find the birds perched, but being a Saturday, the park was packed with maskless families who seemed to think covid doesn't exist. Female Williamson’s Sapsucker 

It became obvious to me that it was incredibly too windy to camp, and having proved to myself I can sleep in the back of my car if necessary, but not sure I could handle two painful nights of that, I started calling around looking for a hotel room. They were all booked! I called 30 hotels, and all but the first one, who offered me a whirlpool room, were completely full. I looked on Air B&B. There were three rooms left in the $50 - $100 range, but all were in places owned by single men. A big NOPE there. Needing a place to sleep, I called the first hotel back and booked their whirlpool room at $212. I suppose it was a Valentine's Day present to myself. Not feeling comfortable booking the Air B&B rooms left me feeling like I just paid a $100+ surcharge for being born a woman. 

February 14

I spent Valentine's Day in search of Eurasian Wigeon at a golf course in Phoenix; after scanning from several angles, I had distant but identifiable looks. I stopped by Scottsdale Community College to enjoy the Burrowing Owls living there. Then, I had a decision to make. I'm doing a Big Year. Yesterday was my planned turn-around day. 

Do I drive home?