[RESEND] Ricochet Birding - Dream Yr Update (part 1)
Gregory B Miller (gregorym@erols.com)
Wed, 16 Dec 1998 19:18:19 -0500
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(sorry if this dupes again...)
(also references to 'Monday' in part 2 should instead be 'Sunday')
--
Greg Miller
Lusby, Maryland, USA
Home- gregorym@erols.com
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Date: Wed, 16 Dec 1998 14:31:09 -0500
Subject: Ricochet Birding - Dream Yr Update (part 1)
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Howdy All!
Wow! Another exciting weekend for travel and birding,
ricocheting 5,000 miles across the continent! Here's the
Executive Summary for you busy folks:
Rufous-capped Warbler (Arizona) CHA-CHING! (#713)
Black-tailed Gull (New Jersey) silence on the Big Year
adding machine...
other goodies:
Rufous-backed Robin
I just whipped through another 40-hour week at work in four
days, finished my updates for the previous weekend, updated my
web page with rare bird information, and read the previous week's
mail (er--yeah--a *week* late). Unbelievably, it's already
December 16th and this whirlwind of a Dream Year is coming to a
close. I still have the itch to reach my goal: just two more
birds.
Meanwhile, piles of unfiled paper lay randomly around my
apartment, magazines still in their wrappers, bird reference
books strewn over the floor. Tall stacks of boxes [packed with
who knows what now] still tower in my living room and bedroom
from my move back in March. A yet unpacked suitcase lays open on
my bedroom floor from the last trip. The fridge is nearly empty
and the freezer portion has a few TV dinners. My bird feeders
have been unpacked and moved outside, left setting on the ground,
waiting for me to get to the store for some birdseed. Clothes in
the dryer are wrinkling while I write. Juggling discomforts has
become commonplace. My home has been waiting patiently--well,
not so patiently--for the year to end...
Retro to Tuesday, December 8. I read with great interest on
the Newfoundland newsgroup on the internet about a "moderate"
flight of Dovekies, a bird I still need for the year, at Cape
Spear. The numbers were staggering to me: 250-300 birds per
minute. This is incredible to me since I have never seen this
smallest of North Atlantic seabirds. These cute little black and
white seabirds birds show up each winter along the New England
coast. Most birds are fly-bys or are seen from a boat. It is
rarely seen in any great numbers or regularity in the Lower 48.
The fares to St Johns, Newfoundland from Baltimore, however, were
$1800 for this weekend. I balked at the price. I could fly to
Europe and back twice for that price. That was WAY more than I
wanted to pay, even for a Big Year. The venture seemed
impossible at this time.
In most years, December is a good month to observe Dovekies
from shore in Eastern Newfoundland, from St. Johns to points
South. By mid-January, the numbers of birds will drop off
dramatically as they disperse into the North Atlantic.
I turned my attention to the Great Southwest. The last
report of the rare Mexican vagrant, Rufous-capped Warbler in
Arizona had been Saturday, December 5. To my knowledge, this was
the 25th record for North America and only Arizona's tenth record
ever. This species was first found in North America just a
quarter of a century ago--a relatively recent addition to the
continent's avifauna.
The Rufous-capped warbler is very common in woodland dense
brush in the foothills of Mexico and Central America, ranging
North to just 100 miles South of the Rio Grande. This tiny,
five-inch, wren-like warbler is beautifully colored. It's warm
olive back, wings, and tail and it's gray flanks are offset with
a brilliant rufous crown, a broad white eye-stripe, more rufous
on the ear patch, a flashing yellow throat and chest, and soft
white belly and underparts. It is an exquisite little bird with
a long tail which it often cocks up above it's back. It's quick,
excited motions, flitting low to the ground, and twitching it's
long slender, tail are very wren-like in nature.
I have dreamed of seeing this tiny gem since I first read
about it in 1982 when I made my first birding trek to Arizona
with my birding cousin and good friend, Kent Miller. This bird
would not only be a year bird, but also a LIFE bird. There were
no reports of the warbler while we were there in `82, but we
returned with our dads who are also birders (it's how we got
started) in May of 1994.
A Rufous-capped Warbler had already been seen by many in
Sycamore Canyon, but getting there involved a long, grueling hike
of several miles in the desert heat. Neither of the "Sloogy
Brothers", a self-dubbed name my uncle Jim gave to my dad and
himself, was deemed fit for the trek. "Sloogy" was befitting as
either or both of them were always drifting off in the back seat
of our 4WD vehicle as Kent and I zoomed around Southeastern
Arizona hitting all the hot spots. Unfortunately, Kent and I had
to make conscious decisions NOT to go after a very rare Mexican
vagrant. Our consolation prize, though, was showing our dads
what a great birding place Arizona is, *and* we ended up with an
even higher species list than our trip in 1982. It was a
delightful trip.
Even so, the memory of the bird lingered through the years.
On Wednesday, December 9, it was occupying a large portion of my
thinking processes. I daydreamed wishfully. I was so close.
Would the bird stick around long enough for me to see it?
I posted a request for information on the internet and
called the owners of the San Pedro River Inn on whose grounds the
bird was being seen. I received several helpful replies via the
internet about where to look for the bird. From Walter Kolbe at
the Inn, I received word that the Rufous-capped Warbler had been
seen on Tuesday, and birders were out looking for it today. I
made reservations to stay at the San Pedro River Inn for the next
evening. I told Walter it would be late and we made prior
arrangements.
I called Southwest Airlines and booked my second freebie of
the year, thanks to their Rapid Rewards program. Although full
of eager anticipation, my body was not responding in like kind.
I felt a burning sensation in my muscles throughout my body, my
head was full and throbbing, I was running a low-grade fever, the
sharp pangs of stomach cramps caused me to wince now and then,
and I had all the energy of a limp noodle. To further complicate
the matter, I couldn't spend much time away from an available
restroom. No. It was *not* pretty, but it would not stop me
from going to Arizona. After all, I could still MOVE, couldn't
I? <grin> (Don't laugh. You birders have done this before and
worse, too!)
I looked to the left out of my plane window and watched the
twinkling lights of Washington, DC as we passed to the North,
somewhere close to Gaithersburg. I could see the tiny gray
lights of Lake Forest Mall below, socked in with holiday traffic.
The lights below faded quickly as we flew into the clouds. I
got out my bird book and reviewed again the picture of my target
species. Thousands of thoughts passed through my head as we
whizzed through the air in our giant metal tube with wings.
Within an hour of Phoenix, the first pangs of stomach cramps
hit with great force. Gas-X wasn't doing the trick for me and I
was afraid the Immodium A-D wasn't gonna hold out either. This
is truly a terrible dilemma on an airplane. We'd already been
flying for four and a half hours. "Surely I could make it
another hour", I hoped. Within 20 minutes of landing, I could
see the city lights of Phoenix in the distance. I was now
perspiring as I would cringe in pain at the spasms. Fortunately,
I made it. Imminent disaster averted. <grin> I had to laugh to
myself as I hate airplane bathrooms.
9:30pm. I called the San Pedro River Inn and talked to May
Kolbe. The warbler had been seen yesterday, but not today, even
though birders were out looking all day. I was disappointed.
Had the cold front pushed it off to some warmer locale? It had
been blustery, cold, and had snowed off and on all day. I was
not entirely optimistic.
I went to get my rental car, but felt like I must have
traversed half the state of Arizona just to get there! I was
surprised to find out my economy car was a sporty gold 4WD Jeep
Wrangler with a cloth top. Cool. Looking at the Jeep made me
wish I had more time in Arizona. I loaded up the Jeep and
unpacked my first necessity--the handy-dandy Rand McNally Road
Atlas--a must on every trip as I never know where I'm gonna be.
I figured the 200-mile trip would take about 3 1/2 hours. My
figuring did not account for driver fatigue and another close
encounter with a highway bathroom.
Finally, after being awake for 23 hours, I pulled into the
driveway of the San Pedro River Inn at 2:30am. My bleary eyes
had led me astray a few moments before as I had pulled into a
private ranch a couple miles before arriving here. I hauled my
two bags into my cabin, the Owl's Roost for the night, too tired
to care about much of anything. I paused only briefly in the
cold night air to look up at the clear, starlit sky. The Arizona
night sky is really something to behold. My senses filled with
awe as I took in the truly magnificent display of innumerable
tiny lights decorating the pure blackness of this winter night.
I was awakened by the first light of morning on Friday at
6:45am. I was out the door by 7:30am, still tired, but fully
awake, and full of enthusiasm. At least I would make the attempt
for the warbler. I had the whole weekend to search. I opted to
go searching first before taking time for breakfast. Eating
could wait.
Birds don't necessarily wait, though. They pay no heed to
experts or amateurs, rich or poor, or much or little effort.
They owe no one a sighting. They don't abide by our geographical
boundaries, nor are they limited by the most well-prepared
checklist. They don't read the latest literature, they don't
look at all the photos and illustrations, and they don't care if
you're a lister or not (although, I sometimes wonder...). They
don't have email, they don't search the internet, they are not
interrupted by beepers or phones. They are not limited by time
either. They don't have clocks on every appliance, wrist
watches, or Day-Planners, or appointments to keep, etc. They
are "free as a bird". Ha! Maybe that's how THAT expression came
to be! This unpredictability element has always fascinated me.
The possibility of a miss is always right in front of me. It is
always a chance--a gamble.
The brilliant sunrise on this brisk, clear Arizona morning
was exhilarating. It *felt* like a special morning. I was
greeted by a taller, dark-haired, outgoing, jean-clad, gentleman
in the common area. I instantly liked the Western-outdoorsy
Walter Kolbe. We chatted easily, as if we'd been friends for
years. Much to my dismay, I found out that Walter was a little
disappointed that not more birders had stayed at the Inn.
Although I found it to be a little pricey for the area, I
certainly would not have labeled it as prohibitive. Besides, I
had felt a certain obligation to spend at least one night on the
premises as thanks for use of the property. After all, their
business is derived from people *visiting* their property.
I apologized for the rest of us birders, who are generally a
very good bunch of well-meaning people. We do have eclectic
spending habits as we spend quite a bit for good optics and
travel, but are otherwise, pretty frugal.
Walter gave me the most recent directions for the
Rufous-capped Warbler.
"Walk the path to the river. The bird's been seen within
100 yards in either direction along the river. Oh, and no need
to rush. It's not been found before 8:00am."
I thanked Walter and turned to head down the path, the
Yellow-brick Road to Oz...
The sunlight was at my back. Ahead of me loomed the
magical, sandstone orangish Huachuca Mountains, lightly covered
with snow and doused in the yellowish light of early morning. I
breathed in the crisp winter air, void of any recognizable
moisture to this Easterner.
I tried to take my time sorting through the flocks of
sparrows on the way down to the river, but found it tough to do
as the Rufous-capped Warbler was indelibly imprinted on my mind.
Everywhere there were sharp-looking brown and gray birds with
dazzling black and white striped crowns. White-crowned Sparrows.
Small flocks of large, chunky birds of the sparrow family with
white wing patches were feeding in the fields. Lark Buntings.
In the large groups of other LBJs (Little Brown Jobs), I found
Lincoln's, Brewer's, and a few Vesper and Song Sparrows. Near
the last cattle guard, I watched a sparrow hop up on top of a
twig in a short bush. It was the size and posture of a common
White-crowned Sparrow. I glassed the bird with my binoculars.
As it turned its head, a saw a small, bright lemon-yellow patch
on its forehead. Maybe a Golden-crowned Sparrow? That
California winter resident would be a VERY good find in Arizona.
I observed the bird closely. It looked like an immature
White-crowned with a patch of yellow. Maybe a hybrid? I moved
on toward the river, too close to stop now as the thoughts of a
Rufous-capped Warbler were displacing all other thoughts.
By this time, several other birders reached the river, too.
Three from the Tucson area headed to the right. I turned
downriver to the left where I met the Ludlows from Massachusetts.
This was their *third* day searching for the bird. Part of me
wanted to panic immediately. Three days? As I was talking to
them though, I assured them that I was one of the luckiest
birders in the country. I have been most fortunate. But I've
had my misses, too. This bird, however, was one I would regret
terribly if I missed it. It was WAY high on my most-wanted list
of birds of North America.
My mind was racing through a tangle of thousands of thoughts
as I heard a distant cry from my right. It was one of the Tucson
birders waving his arms wildly and exclaiming excitedly, "They've
got the bird!!!" and waving his hand toward a small grove of
trees upriver. We all broke into a run, following the path that
went upriver toward the grove of trees. I was soon breathing
pretty hard as my office cream puff of a body exerted itself
beyond its normal keyboard-typing, mouse-clicking regimen. We
slowed to a fast, quiet walk as we climbed the small embankment
to the left, overlooking the eight-foot wide San Pedro River. It
was a quiet area of slow-running water with brambles and tangles
near the water's edge. We were in two small groups about 30 feet
apart. The far group could see the bird, but we could not. The
bird was feeding near the ground on the steep bank on the right
as we desperately looked upriver. The next 20 seconds seemed
like an intolerable amount of time. Finally the tiny, wren-like
creature was picked up by two in the near group. It was still
behind a tree's root for me. I could hear their comments
breathed in excited whispers beside me.
"Oh my gosh. It's gorgeous!"
"Look at how brightly colored it is!"
"It's sooo cute!"
"Look at that long tail!"
"Hey. The rufous doesn't cover the whole crown. See how
it's split at the back of the crown?"
They were getting great looks. My anticipation now was at
near anxiety levels. Finally, the bird moved down the bank,
slightly beyond the root that was obstructing my view. I think
my jaw must have hit the ground as I gaped at my life
Rufous-capped Warbler. What a stunning little bird! There was
no way that any of the pictures I had viewed previously in the
field guides did justice to the view I now had before me. The
years of dreaming had built up a healthy portfolio of
anticipation. The REAL bird far surpassed my fondest
expectations. This rare, petite jewel was a dream bird.
I heard audible oohs and ahhs as the bird flitted across the
river into some tangles on the far side in absolutely perfect
sunlight. The air was filled with the soul-satisfying sentiment
of the moment. Not only did this represent another tick on the
list, this was a moment to be treasured. A first-time life
experience. We all devoured the incredible sight before us. I
felt as though I had been whisked away into another world. This
was Oz, wasn't it?
A bird sang in the distance. It was a familiar, plain,
whistled song. I thought for a moment. A White-throated
Sparrow! Very common in winter in my home state of Maryland,
this represented a fair find in Arizona.
I birded with the couple from Massachusetts on the way back.
We stopped and ogled at the Rufous-backed Robin which was
feeding on the ground near the parking area. This is also a rare
Mexican vagrant in Arizona, but is more regular than the warbler.
It's a beautiful robin with a bright rufous back. We watched it
as it went into the pyracantha bushes and plucked a few berries
before it melted into the cottonwood with its many golden leaves.
Happy and tired, I headed back to my cabin, the Owl's Roost.
It was a pleasant stucco cabin with a bright interior, thanks to
the many windows--a feature I really like. It had a full kitchen
with light wood cabinets filled with dishes, glasses, pots and
pans and cookware, and cleaning supplies. A refrigerator, stove,
microwave, toaster, and coffee maker made me feel like staying
for a while. I retrieved my breakfast from the country basket on
the counter and ate the croissant and muffin. Milk and orange
juice were in the fridge and a variety of cold cereal was in the
cabinets. This arrangement for breakfast is more birder-friendly
than a Bed & Breakfast. I'm usually out the door birding before
the time that breakfast would be served.
I stuck around until mid-afternoon, watching the
Rufous-backed Robin come and go. Red-naped Sapsuckers,
Ladder-backed, and Gila Woodpeckers frequented the trees on the
property. I was so tired that I was having a hard time making up
my mind what to do next. Should I try to catch a flight up to
Denver or drive up to Taos, New Mexico and look for Brown-capped
Rosy-Finches, or fly to Southwestern Kansas for Lesser
Prairie-chicken? I couldn't make up my mind. I finally drove
into Sierra Vista, thinking that going in some direction might
help me make a decision. I found myself too fatigued for the
road. I stopped and got a room in Sierra Vista. I walked across
the road to a restaurant, but it was only 4:45pm and they
wouldn't open until 5:00pm. I sauntered listlessly back to my
room and tumbled onto the bed and flipped on the weather channel.
I woke up groggily at 5:30pm and ate some dinner. I called
Arizona birding guide Stuart Healy and reported my sightings,
knowing he would use the up-to-date information. Next I called
my friend Tyler Bell back in Maryland. Tyler monitors the
internet Rare Bird Alerts about as often as I do. I asked if
anything had shown up.
"Black-tailed Gull at Cape May on Thursday. It wasn't
reported today [Friday] but you might have a shot at it."
This gull is common in Japan and Korea, but is a very rare
straggler to the North American continent. A few records exist
for Alaska and both coasts. It is slightly larger than the
Ring-billed Gull, but has a darker gray back, and a thick black
band on the white tail.
I thanked Tyler and called Southwest again and changed my
reservations for Saturday morning at 11:00am. That would put me
back in Baltimore by 5:30pm. It would be dark already, but I
could reach Cape May within an easy three hours and even get some
sleep, too!
---end of Ricochet Birding (part 1)---
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