Common Raven (Elegant Trogon)

I've been stood-up three times this winter by an Elegant Trogon that claims Madera Canyon, Santa Rita Mountains as home. I don't like it and this is getting maddening.

Still, there is little I can do about it except take what nature gives me in observable birds.

Luckily, this day three Common Ravens filled in for the Elegant Trogon and the ravens DIDN'T disappoint.

These gleaming yet shaggy black-throated beauties landed above us, near the spot where the Elegant Trogon normally holds court for uncounted bird photographers.

The three ravens entertained our flock of trogon groupies with proud posing and royal posturing.

They croaked loudly in their unique language, then departed as abruptly as they'd arrived.

Elegant in so many ways, the Common Raven is not flashy... more so stately, refined and polished when seen in proper lighting.

Ravens can be a suitable stand-in for the trogon paparazzi.

Allan

(Click any picture to enlarge)

Mexican Jay

A Mexican Jay is a familiar sight in the trees around the Santa Rita Lodge in Madera Canyon, Arizona.

Mexican Jays are big, bold and colorful.
And quite accommodating to visitors, also.

They glide from tree to tree only to be rudely rousted for no apparent reason.

Squabbling between members of this social group of Mexican Jays seems to be the norm. Depending on the individual, one is either the aggressor or the frequently displaced.

Mexican Jays arrived and departed continually. I'm guessing there were fifteen birds at any one time around multiple feeding stations at the lodge.

The lodge owner sets out bird seed for the enjoyment of the gift shop guests.

Between visits to the feeders a Mexican Jay rests, perhaps a time to think.

The colorful blue birds are year round residents and so, brighten the January landscape of this mountain community.

For their part, they do a pretty good job of entertaining visitors while maintaining a watchfulness for their own sake.

Allan

Credits: Cornell Lab of Ornithology, All About Birds
The Sibley Guide to Birds

Mexican Jay

You'll know they've arrived before you see them.

The highly social Mexican Jay is a noisy bird. Traveling in small family groups, they command your attention by their numbers and clamorous calls.

This band of about a dozen Mexican Jays arrived at the Santa Rita Lodge in Madera Canyon, Arizona on a routine stop to partake in the feast set out for birds.

The seed, suet and sugar-water buffet behind the Santa Rita Gift Shop attracts birds to this mountainside lodge in uncounted numbers.

The birders who line up to watch the birds could be counted, but no one has.

Mexican Jays are in the same family as Blue Jays found in Wisconsin all year long. Crows, Ravens and Magpies are close relatives.

In shades of blue and gray the Mexican Jay is slightly less colorful then the Blue Jay, yet still impressive in size and shape.

Gregarious by nature, they attract attention with their energetic darting, dashing and bouncing.

The family groups stay together for years. Males and females look alike with only the juveniles giving away their age.  The telltale white on the bill indicates an age of less than two years old. With time the bill will turn completely black.

Handouts from people are not their only resource. Living in pine/oak forests at higher elevations, they thrive on acorns and pine nuts stored for the winter. Along with insects and invertebrates they manage quite well without the people food.

Mexican Jays are resourceful and manage quite well. They can't be blamed for taking the low hanging fruit provided by humans. They are of Least Concern as to their survival in the foreseeable future.

That is not the case for far too many birds.

Allan

Credit: Cornell Lab of Ornithology, All About Birds
Credit: The Sibley's Guide to Birds
Credit: Wikipedia

Painted Redstart

Common, but localized, a Painted Redstart is a beautiful bird to find in the wild.

(Click any picture to enlarge)

Look for them in the border states of Arizona, New Mexico and Texas because they barely make it to the United States from the Neotropics.  They prefer a mountain habitat at cooler elevations.  I wasn’t looking for this one, but I appreciate the serendipity of being found. 

I was hiking on Mt. Wrightson in the Santa Rita Mountains of Arizona.

When I stopped to rest, this Redstart flew in.  Whether or not he noticed me or was aware and unconcerned, he began to search for insects along the oak and sycamore lined canyon walls.

Redstarts likely got their name from the hunting technique of startling their prey. By rapidly flicking open their wings to produce a brilliant flash of white light, they startle insects into revealing themselves.

Catch it...food!

Insects can hide anywhere…branches, leaves, crevices...redstarts must be nimble. 

Flashing white wings and tail feathers makes them easy to spot when flitting through trees.  A bright red breast contrasting against a  black body gives them away, too.

But, I  was lucky. I didn't have to search for this one. This one found me.

Allan

Credits:

Cornell Lab of Ornithology, All About Birds

The Sibley Guide to Birds

White-nosed Coati

Occasionally I come across animals other than birds.  The White-nosed Coati is one of those animals.  You may have seen one in a zoo or, if traveling, in Central or South America.  I saw this one in the Santa Rita Mountains in Arizona.  Southwestern United States forms the northern border for the coati. The coati is a member of the raccoon family.    

Raccoons are common in Wisconsin and so is the coati in his homeland.     

A big male coati could weigh eighteen pounds and by guessing, this one looks to be that size.  Males are solitary and I will leave it up to you to guess the gender of this one.  It was alone.

Due to the solitary life style of the males, they were singularly called ‘coatimundis’ and once thought a separate species. 

Contrarily, the females lead a highly social life of up to twenty-five individuals apart from the males, except during breeding season.

The coati has a thick skin and non-retractable claws and claimed to be a formidable fighter against predators such as the jaguar. 

He can climb a tree if an escape is prudent and returns to the ground headfirst with flexible wrists that rotate backwards. 

His nose isn’t deformed it’s pliable. He searches the leaf litter for invertebrates and seeds, but eats a wide variety of foods.  His tail is long, but useless for gripping.  It's used more for balance or signaling others, ‘This is my food and you stay away’.    

Happy to be foraging in the daylight, this one wasn’t shy and stayed around for a while.  He was quite entertaining and made a different sort of Feather Tailed Story for me.  

Allan

Cooper’s Hawk, Madera Canyon

I was nearly past this Cooper’s Hawk before I saw him. Close to the road and perched low in a tree, he surprised me.  I slowed the truck, made an illegal  U-turn and returned to him with only a small, scrubby tree standing between us.  

   Luckily, there was no one else on the road except bicyclists during my early morning drive up Mt. Wrightson.  Early, but already I’d seen three guys on bikes slowing cranking up the mountain through Madera Canyon. Having been in bike shoes before, I knew they were thinking of the fourteen-mile coast they were going to enjoy at the end of this day.  

The Cooper’s Hawk probably knew I was behind the tree…they’re not dumb.  They hunt birds by sight and the nearly leafless tree wasn’t disguising me. To get his picture though, I had to show myself, so I hoped I wasn't in his comfort zone.

Walking in a zigzag pattern, he didn’t startle.  He expelled a few loud, hissy calls, but not directly at me.  I didn’t know what to make of his vocalizations.  If he was upset, he wasn’t frightened.  

I zigzagged through the scrubby grassland, each time getting a bit closer to him.  He remained unconcerned with my presence…good!  I got to where I had to stop advancing or he wouldn’t fit into the frame anymore.  That’s unusually close.  He tolerated me politely, to a point of ignoring me all together.  Satisfied with my pictures, I retreated. As I drove away he was still perched in the truck’s rearview mirror.

A few hours later I saw him again or maybe it was another Cooper’s Hawk, I can’t say.  Appearing suddenly, as is Cooper’s Hawk style, all the other birds vanished.  Attempting a bird-lunch, but missing…his cover was blown.  

In need of some feather realigning from his thrashing through the underbrush, he rested for a while. Soon he was ready to try another lunch venue.  He flew away. 

I’m glad I saw him, I’m glad I stopped and I’m glad he stayed.  For a bird that doesn’t benefit one bit by allowing me access to him, he was certainly gracious to me today.

Allan

Red-naped Sapsucker

I drove up Mt. Wrightson as far as I could drive. Madera Canyon Road takes you fifteen miles up into the Santa Rita Mountains. The trail map posted on the bulletin board shows where you are and where you could go. Beyond this point there’s only a steep footpath. When I saw the Red-naped Sapsucker, I knew I didn’t need to go any further. 

He was dutifully drilling holes into an oak tree.  Aware of my presence, but only mildly concerned, he went about drilling holes for half an hour as I watched.

I wasn’t looking for this bird when he politely presented himself to me.  Somewhat shy and only twenty-feet overhead, he circled around his worksite, intent on hiding from me.  Out of sight now, but with constant drumming from the back side of the limb giving him away.  His black and white backside provided camouflage against the tree, but his red head and red nape clearly blew his cover. 

After each series of rapid chisel blows, he’d stop to check his progress and take a predator check.  A Cooper’s Hawk would take a Red-naped Sapsucker in a second. He was aware of it and was rightly wary.  Not wanting to add stress to his life, I remained calm, so he’d stay relaxed, making us both happy.   

The purpose of his drumming was to create a series of quarter-inch holes circling the limb. These wounds to the tree filled-up with healing sap and became a food source for the Red-naped Sapsucker.  He’d lap up the sap with his tongue, a tongue with a hair-like tip to it.  Sort of paintbrush-like…evolved to the task.

The tree survives these small intrusions and the sweet, sticky sap occasionally traps a tasty insect too…a protein source for the sapsucker.  He returns to milk the tree for sap whenever he’s hungry.  

In time the wounds heal over.  His hole chiseling also provides benefit to others like ants, bugs and hummingbirds.  They all enjoy a sap-sip, but he eats first and few would challenge his weaponry.  Everyone seems to benefit, except maybe that clumsy, unfortunate insect. 

Allan 

Elegant Trogon

The Elegant Trogon isn’t your typical backyard bird.  You can’t see one whenever you’d like.  They won’t come to your Wisconsin birdfeeder, no matter what.  You will have to travel to see them. They live in remote areas far from people, but they don’t seem to fear people.  Far southeastern Arizona is the only place you’re likely to find one in the United States.

The Elegant Trogon is special.  He has a square-tip tail and round-tip wings. He has a red belly and a blue-green back.  His wingspan is 16 inches.   Black and white, brown and gray feathers round out his color palette with a bright red eye ring for accent. Maybe that’s why people travel so far to see him…he looks so strange.

He's a prize for birders. Compare him to: ‘Box Seats’, ‘A-Hole-in-One’ or ‘Babe Ruth’s rookie card’ to understand the level of mystique this bird holds. 

Colleen and Stein Simonsen (pronounced: ‘Stain’ in Norwegian) went to South America to see one last year. I met them on the Carrie Nation Trail in Madera Canyon, Arizona. They’re from Idaho, now living part-time in Arizona. They wanted to see an Elegant Trogon here in North America too.  We hiked together up and down the mountain trails and stood quietly for hours, our backs to each other, so we could scan the trees in 360 degrees.  Waiting for a trogon to show up takes patience, but our patience paid off.

About mid-April Elegant Trogons start moving up into Southern Arizona.  They’re looking for nesting sites along mountain slopes with Sycamore trees, one of their favorite nesting trees.  Birders flock (no pun intended) to these areas to search for the Elegant Trogon.  Bandoliered with binoculars and all lengths of lens, they’re in hopes of seeing or maybe just hearing an Elegant Trogon. 

The word was out on this year’s Elegant Trogon sightings in Madera Canyon and birders were anxious to be the next lucky person.  But Colleen, Stein and I were next!  We found this one where one had been spotted before…about a mile up, along a mountain snowmelt stream.  Perched about thirty-feet over my head, his red belly was fully exposed.   I didn’t have the birder credentials to be this fortunate, but I gladly accepted this prize. 

The Elegant Trogon is not without shortcomings though. For a bird named Elegant, he has a less than elegant voice.  His voice has been rightly compared to a hoarse barking dog.  I might add a dog crossed with an oinking pig.  Few would say his call is elegant.  It’s good he calls out, though, because that’s how you find him. His barks give him away in the dense cover of trees.  But for what he lacks in song, he more than makes up in elegant plumage. 

 

Allan

April 2012