Some things always amaze me.  One of them is why there are so many different Thrasher species in the arid Southwestern U.S.

Most of us who live in the Low Desert are used to two of the more common thrashers: the ubiquitous Northern mockingbird, its slender gray-and-white profile often seen on high perches, singing its melodious and varied song.  Our yard mockers rock their own vocalizations, but also the sounds of other birds, like cactus wrens, cardinals, and kestrels.  Our other common thrasher is the larger Curve-billed thrasher.  These are busy and athletic foragers, with big down-curved bills and a loud, ringing song.  They have a distinctive “wit-weet” call that people are aware of, even if they don’t know the name of the bird who’s making it in their backyard.

<< Bendire’s thrasher (Toxostoma bendirei)

But there’s another thrasher, very close in appearance to the Curve-billed, that breeds in the low desert, too, although it’s not as common.  It’s the Bendire’s thrasher.  Also a plain, mostly brown bird with a vivid and intelligent golden eye, it too has a strong, long bill, less de-curved than the Curve-billed, and pale at the base instead of dark (you can see this subtle field mark in the photo at left, especially if you click to enlarge).  It’s perhaps best distinguished by its song, which is “chewier” and to my ear, not as ringing as the Curve-billed.

In the last couple of weeks, E and I have been treated to a very bold Bendire’s thrasher singing from the tops of the sparse trees in a part of Papago Park where we walk several mornings a week.  Its chewy, bubbling song attracted our attention; I’m not sure we would have noticed it wasn’t a Curve-billed if we hadn’t heard it.

Bendire’s thrashers are known to inhabit the Park, but we hadn’t encountered one there before, so it’s been a treat for us to enjoy its consistent presence along our route.  We had a quick glimpse last week of a second nearby thrasher — it may have been another Bendire’s, so we’re wondering if this stretch of desert isn’t supporting a breeding pair.  We’re keeping our eyes open.

Etymology:

Toxostoma, the genus of some of the mimid thrashers like Curve-billed, Bendire’s, Crissal, California, Brown, and LeConte’s, is a compound name formed from two Greek elements, τόξον, bow, and στόμα, mouth, referring to the strong curved bill — in some cases extremely long and curved — of these birds.  They use it to turn over foliage and clear crevices of debris by moving it strongly from side-to-side, the action which gives them their type name, thrasher.  In search of insects and miscellaneous food items, they ream out all the stuff that settles between flagstones or cracks in the pool deck, leaving a line of turned-up crud along the joints in the cement, so we always know when the thrashers have been foraging there.

Sometimes when you say “Goats in Trees,” people say, “No way.”

Way.

Here are goats in trees.

(Photo by E.Shock; Oman, 2010)

Had a nice morning walk in Papago Park (Phoenix AZ) this morning — the spring air was breezy and clear, and the high skies brought out a number of aerial show-offs.  The main attraction was a Peregrine falcon, spiraling and soaring between the two largest buttes in the Park and the Army National Guard reservation, over McDowell Road.

<< Peregrine falcon soaring; note typical peregrine dark “hood” and pointed falcon wings (Photo E.Shock)

The falcon’s showy overflights attracted the peevish attention of the local pair of Red tailed hawks, who flew up to try to show it the door.  In terms of aerial agility, the big, broad-winged red tails are no match for a nimble sickle-winged falcon, but we did witness some serious stooping on the part of both species, and even one brief roll-over with talon-grappling incident.

<< Redtailed hawk, in a power glide.  Note black patagium — leading wing edge close to head — one of the best field marks for IDing red-tails aloft (Photo E.Shock)

This action went on among sparse clouds of White-throated swifts — was the probably migrating Peregrine trying to nab a quick swift-to-go before heading north, the raptor equivalent of a drive-thru fast food breakfast burrito?

No wonder the Redtails were upset — a little searching with binox of the inaccessible red rocks on the Military’s property turned up the hawks’ nest, a substantial stick-pile wedged in a ledge on the butte.  We’ve suspected they were a nesting pair, but now we know for sure.

A loggerhead shrike was on duty, as well.  Spring has been cool, and there are still very few insects around, which suggests that the Lesser goldfinch and lingering white-crowned sparrows in the desert park might wish to keep sharp.

<< The last thing the grasshopper saw. Loggerhead shrikes are sometimes called “functional raptors” because although they’re Passerines (perching birds) they prey on insects and small mammals, qualifying them as birds of prey.  Dig the tiny white “eyebrows”.  (Photo E.Shock)

The photo of the p-falcon’s a bit grainy due to having to magnify it, but please click on the Red-tail and the Shrike images to enlarge them so you can admire the good feathery detail.

<< Oh, and here’s King Kong…  Their nest is near here, and the Red-tails love to perch on his brow and warm themselves on a sunny morning.

Today I actually got outdoors to breathe air, soak up sunbeams, and take a look at what’s up, and what’s in the air.  It’d been awhile, and I thought I’d celebrate by passing along some of what’s happening along the Salt River, smack in the middle of the City of Phoenix, AZ.

<< green Goodding’s willows, brittle bush, Desert willow, and chuparosa at Rio Salado; photo A.Shock

The Rio Salado Habitat Preservation Area, as it’s officially designated (here is the website), is an  ex-horrific-riverside urban dump that’s been cleaned up and improved in order to attract and showcase permanent and migrating wildlife, including birds, mammals, and insects.

Along the Salt River just south of downtown Phoenix, the RSHPA is less than 10 miles downstream from the riparian area at Tempe Town Lake (see here), and has a variety of habitats, from mesquite bosque to shady bands of Goodding’s willows (the bright green foliage in the photo above.)  Each time I visit, the vegetation is better established, both naturally (Goodding’s willows are said to be able to grow something like six feet per year), and with the help of human hands — many native desert and riparian plants have been planted along the bike path and walking trails that weave along the river, on both sides.  Right now, the Goodding’s willows are in bloom.  The screwbean mesquites (right) are still bare, making their tightly-twisted seed pods stand out against the blue sky, clustered like little brown bouquets of rattlesnake rattles.

The river is high today after all of the rain in both the metro basin and in the high country north east of Phoenix, but it’s obviously been higher recently: big piles of flood debris are left on both sides of the trail. Cormorants (Double-crested and Neotropical), American coots, and Killdeer are common along the river, and the ponds and oxbows host a variety of waterfowl, like this handsome Ringnecked drake (left), Cinnamon teal, and Common moorhens.  But we were especially on the lookout for dinky dudes — in this case, an out-of-range straggler, a Black and white warbler that’s been hanging out at the Rio for at least a week.  It proved too dinky to photo, but we did get crippling looks at the tiny tourist, wrestling an enormous caterpillar into its gullet.  It was keeping company with a Brown creeper, numerous Orange-crowned and Yellow-rumped warblers, Ruby crowned kinglets, a Blue-gray gnatcatcher, and other dinky dudes.  A casual couple of hours of birding yielded a list of more than 35 species of birds, including a House wren.

But for me, the surprise of the day was provided by our furry mammalian neighbors: there’s a beaver working the Rio! We didn’t see the critter itself, but check out the evidence of Beavers At Work. right >>

I love the industrious pile of wood chips under the chewed ends of this downed tree.

Anyone birding in the Phoenix area during autumn through spring seasons might wish to check out RSHPA .

Remember — it’s an urban birding gem, so you might wish to bring a friend, and don’t leave anything valuable in your car.

Don’t be discouraged by the urban nature of this area, it’s got its advantages, too, like some really nice public art along the paths, and under the bridges on otherwise blank concrete supports.

>> Local wildlife painted under Central Ave bridge, RSHPA (all photos A.Shock)

There’s a small bird in this photo of lakeside rocks.  Can you spot the pipit?

Sunday E and I watched an American pipit (Anthus rubescens; photo E.Shock) working its way along water’s edge at Burnt Corral on Apache Lake east of Phoenix, darting after flies. beetles, larvae and other yummies around the cobbles in the shallow water. This is where it was working — not a bad view  (Photo A.Shock)>>

Pipits are sparrow-sized, sparrow-like birds which aren’t sparrows at all.  They’re the type of bird that people tend not to notice if they’re not birders.  It’s partly because pipits aren’t usually found in town or around neighborhoods — they breed in arctic and alpine tundra, and during winter, they frequent shores and coastlines, agricultural fields, and wild, open spaces.  Also, they’re easy to overlook: being beige and brown and streaky, they blend right into their backgrounds.  In the words of the Cornell Lab of Ornithology:

“The American Pipit is a small, slender, drab bird of open country. Although it appears similar to sparrows, it can be distinguished by its thin bill and its habit of bobbing its tail.” Click on this link to All About Birds for more info.

They share this habit of wagging tails gently up and down with other birds of stream-sides and shores such as Spotted sandpipers, wagtails, and dippers. Being in constant motion helps them blend in with their background of running water or wind-blown grasses.

The American pipit we were watching is in the center of this grainy enlargement, at the water’s edge, below the largest rock — click the photo to enlarge, if the bird’s still eluding you.  >>

But wait, there’s more!  Bonus international pipits:

It turns out that pipits inhabit wild open places the world around, even as far south as southern New Zealand, and also South Georgia island, roughtly between Antarctica and South America in the South Atlantic (and that’s a lot of “souths”).  Here is a photo of a shy New Zealand pipit which turned its head just as the shutter fired, and also a picture of the place it lives: this one was on the tops of heavily grazed sea bluffs in the Catlins, South Island NZ.

<< NZ pipit (Anthus novaseelandiae), an indigenous songbird of the island.(Photos E.Shock)

And, here is a South Georgia pipit (Anthus antarcticus), in its habitat, tussock (or, tussac) grass on the quite remote and windswept breeding islets off of the coast of South Georgia (Photos, A.Shock) <<

Seems as if pipits, although not very showy themselves, make their livings in some fairly spectacular scenery.

This is the first installment of:

It’s been an unusually wet gray week in the desert, and this has brought water to my mind in general, and some of its more colorful properties from wishful thinking.  So, here are some photos of brightly colored waters.  One is tinted by reflections on its surface, another by what’s under its surface, one by its sediment load, two by clarity and chemistry, and all by light.  The colors in the photos are natural.  (all photos A.Shock)

Autumn salt cedar reflected in the Salt River at Coon Bluff

Deep blue winter shadows on the Salt River from this past Sunday's trip up into the Sierra Ancha (see last post)

"Colorado" means colorful, and here is the mixing of the Colorado River (green) with its spring-fed tributary, the Little Colorado (aqua), at a red gravel bar in the Grand Canyon

Hot spring, Upper Geyser basin, Yellowstone National Park

Shallow water marine reefs seen from the air above Ambergris Caye, Belize. I'm pretty sure there are manatees down there, somewhere!

E and I went uphill today, to see what last week’s winter storms had brought to the higher terrain: a proper Sunday Drive.  We drove up into the Sierra Anchas, a rugged wilderness area east of Phoenix, east of Lake Roosevelt, a place we seem never to explore frequently enough.  In a surprisingly short distance, the road passes through a wide range of landscapes, from the deserty upper Salt River canyon, through yucca-studded chaparral, oak-piñon woodland, and up to thick ponderosa pine forest.  The recent storms had brought the snow level down to about 3800 feet, so much of the area above the desert foothills was still blanketed in heavy, deep snow.

Here are some images from our day. (Photos A.Shock, except Phainopepla, E.Shock)

Above: The snowy Sierra Anchas from the Saguaro-rich foothills below

Above: Spent agave blooms and prickly pear in the snow;  right, a male Phainopepla perched by his favorite food, mistletoe berries.

Below: Ponderosa Pines near Sawmill Flat.

Three Star Owl is spending this Friday, Saturday, and Sunday in Willcox, AZ, for the annual Wings Over Willcox festival.  If you’re in the area, stop by the Willcox Community Center, and see what’s up.

(Detail of an oval vessel with a Sandhill Crane repoussé and carved in low relief, 10.5″, stoneware, A.Shock 2009)

…for the second time.

As fall is about to turn to winter here in Arizona, I realized that it’s our second winter for 2009, having spent the same turn of season in the southern hemisphere earlier this year in New Zealand.

The high wind and sleet don’t show in this photo of me crossing a suspension bridge high over an icy glacial torrent at Aoraki (Mt. Cook) on the South Island.  A little further up the trail, the wind and weather forced us to turn around.

(Photo E.Shock)

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Also, if you haven’t checked out Kate McKinnon’s current Soul-Clearing/Exploding Pipes sale yet, do it now, before all the good stuff’s gone.  And if you do check it out, know that the red pearl cluster earrings are mine (actually, Kate tells me there’s more than one pair of those).