February 27, 2004
Well, this is cool! There’s been a lot more bird activity, despite a rather cool February. I have noticed, for example, that the pair of towhees are around much more often, and that they have begun using the suet feeder.

But not today—not so far, anyway, because a beautiful mockingbird is guarding the suet feeder, as if he were a hummer and it were a flower or nectar feeder. He’s perched on the branch right above the feeder, and is attacking and chasing off other birds that dare to try to feed, including so far, finches, another mockingbird, sparrows, a cactus wren, and a woodpecker! As soon as the intruder bird lands on the wire mesh, the mockingbird gives it a fierce look. If it tries to eat, he flies at it in a fury of feathers. He occasionally flies over to the tangelo slices on the redwood planter, but keeps one eye on the suet feeder. Then rushes back to defend it.

January 29, 2004
Day before yesterday the kestrel returned! I was working in the bedroom and happened to glance up to see him, perched on the edge of the roof, his glorious profile vivid against the sky. There is something so elemental and powerful in his bearing that there is no doubt that this very small hawk is a fierce predator. I ran for the camera, but by the time I had it set up he flew off. I’m keeping a close eye out, as he does seem to realize that my backyard is a snack bar.

Yesterday afternoon I saw either The Costa’s or another Costa’s in the front patio, alternating between hovering at the tube feeder and perching on the hanger of a hanging flower basket.

Yesterday on our walk I heard a thrasher singing, probably starting to set up territories. And this morning a beautiful mockingbird perched on the redwood planter to eat tangelo slices. (The pair of towhees came over and scared him away, so I guess they are dominant to mockers.) The peach tree seems to be budding. Spring is coming!

January 24, 2004
There’s been a lot more hummer activity recently. A few days ago a beautiful male Costa’s showed up. His gorget was just the most gorgeous deep purple. He really did look like a flying, glittering jewel. I only saw him feeding at the two back feeders, and think he has already moved on. I suppose he’s headed north. I wanted to photograph him, but he didn’t feed at the office window, which is my main photo spot. While waiting for him, I did manage to get a couple of good pictures of the male verdin that lives in the yard.

I’m pretty sure I have two male broadbills, and this morning I saw a female in the office, drinking deeply with her delicate red/orange beak (tipped in black). She is quite gray otherwise.

The fox I saw in Sabino Canyon may be dead now; there have been two rabid fox carcasses found there, and two attacks on hikers (one was at Bear Canyon). It makes me nervous, and also sad for the animals.

January 5, 2004

Great excitement yesterday afternoon. I was sitting and working on the bed when I heard the sickening “thump” of a bird hitting the patio door glass. I looked out just as the cats arrived by the door, to see a mourning dove lying on the bricks. Before I could react in any way, the dove flew off, leaving me grateful that it had survived (at least for the moment) and wondering what had caused it to fly into the window so hard.

I got my answer a few minutes later when I went into the office and saw, on the gravel just outside the window, what I at first took to be a huge dove but then realized was a kestrel picking at the feathered remains of either another dove (or possibly a mockingbird—it was too far gone to be sure). While I began snapping away with my new digital camera the kestrel continued to calmly pull edible shards from the pile of feathers. He or she did not pose well, and I ended up with lots of great shots of his back and side, but none of his beautiful face or beak.

The kestrel finished lunch and flew off, leaving me very grateful to have gotten such a closeup view of “nature red in tooth and claw.”

December 30, 2003
We had a hard freeze two nights ago and last night. The first in a few years, and according to the weather service, the coldest since the nineteen-seventies (it got down to 19 one night!). We covered all the plants and the only things that froze were the cape honeysuckle against the wall, which are all brown and shriveled now—just after they had bloomed, alas.

I got up at dawn to make sure the hummers had at least a couple of unfrozen sources of nectar. They were out there and flying around before I even got outside, and it was really cold. They were all very active all day. Mid-afternoon my cats went nuts when one hummer drove another into the glass door of the patio. The injured hummer lay unmoving on the cold bricks, and I ran outside to see if I could revive it, as I have done in the past (by offering some sugar water). As I got closer I was pretty sure it was dead, and remembered that I am supposed to bag and freeze dead hummers for study by the University of Arizona. The cats watched in great excitement from inside the glass while I bent down to pick up the bird’s body—but before I could touch it, it revived and flew away, brushing my hand with its soft feathers as it did.

It’s warmer today, though still cold. As I look outside the window a small herd of quail are foraging under the tangelo tree and in the garden. Two males, three females. I’m trying to figure out if there’s any dominance ranking between the boys, but so far haven’t seen any indications.

November 30, 2003
I saw a fox! I was walking alone in Sabino Canyon, which has a pavement road leading to the top, and just before the first tram stop I saw a long, low animal with a long, thick, bushy tail, limping, crossing the road ahead of me. My brain went a little numb trying to figure out what it was: Coatamundi? Tail way too thick. Raccoon? Body too long and lean. Fox? Oh, yeah, looks like a fox! Later I talked to a naturalist at the Visitor’s Center, and told him I’d seen a limping fox. He said one has been reported between stops one and two.

The weather was just gorgeous, what my father used to call a “patented Tucson day.” Clear blue skies, mid seventies, light breeze. My idea of what winter should be.

November 24, 2003
There hasn’t been much bird action lately, with the weather growing colder and everyone through with mating and breeding. For example, I haven’t seen a mockingbird in weeks, despite the fact that the berries on the pyracantha (which I planted for the mockers) are bright red and inviting. I seldom see any cardinals, though the towhees are visiting every day to eat the striped sunflower seeds. (I’ve given up on the cardinal feeder for the winter. Am just using it as a seed storage bin.

A few days ago we had an amazing, thick, desert fog. It was so foggy we couldn’t see the mountains at all, not even an outline. Went for a walk along the River Walk, and it was just beautiful: quiet, moist, muted colors. As if the whole desert had suddenly gone pastel and blurred. It was also a little spooky. During the walk I saw three road runners, sprinting from the river, across the walk, and into the desert scrub. I hadn’t seen any road runners out there before, but have since seen a couple. I guess I just hadn’t noticed before. It’s always so much fun to see them—I love their size and the way they zoom along, sort of like the cartoon, but graceful.

The resident Anna’s male and broad-billed male, who is at least semi-resident, have been going at each other in the early morning. Instead of quietly sharing the five feeders and tanking up after a night of no food, they seem more interested in seeing that nobody eats anything. They yell and curse and chase each other all over the yard and beyond.

October 30, 2003
Bird numbers are way down. I have a resident Anna’s male—who must think he is in paradise, controlling so many feeders—and at least one female Anna. I see male broad bills from time to time but don’t have the sense they are actually living here.

The brilliant young cardinal hasn’t shown his beak in a while, but from time to time I see the tell-tale empty sunflower shells on top of the feeder. I’m still putting some seeds out in the flower pots, and have seen one immature female and an adult female, but not often.

The quail are still around. I had about eight of them two days ago, and three this morning. I continue to put out suet, seeds, sometimes fruit, and of course nectar, but mostly all I’m attracting is sparrows, finches, and doves. Which is good! I’m not complaining!

Two days ago on the River Walk we encountered a smallish and I think quite young hawk that didn’t seem too sure what it was doing. It flew from bush to bush and even perched on the walkway railing for a while, just a few feet from us. It was brownish-reddish and heavily speckled with an extravagantly banded tail. I don’t have a clue what it was. Most likely, from my bird book a Swainson’s. I wish I knew raptors better. Maybe I will take a course.

Final nature note: the fires in California are still raging and the wind has shifted so that the smoke is over Arizona. The entire valley is covered with a dark pall of smoke and dust—worse than with our own summer fires this year, because then only the north and east were covered. You can’t see any of the mountains, and the air feels heavy and unhealthy.

October 14, 2003

I had a beautiful chile plant in my front yard that I tenderly nutured for nearly ten years (watered twice a day in the heat, covered when it got cold, fertilized). It was a volunteer plant, grown from a seed that some bird probably pooped into the pot, which I used to use for seasonal stuff. It had gotten very big and lush, and always had both white flowers and little red chiles on its stems. The other morning when I went out to get the paper, I saw that it was gone. Some mean person had picked it up in its pot and made off with it. I hope whoever it was takes good care of it (sniff!).

There haven’t been too many birds of any sort in the yard. I have just a very few hummers—a male Anna that seems to be here for the winter, a couple of probable female Annas, and a broad bill or two. I still see the quail in the mornings—sometimes as many as eight of them. When I see large flocks of quail (or herds, or coveys, or whatever), I wonder about their sociology. In the summer, when they are raising families, they don’t seem to mingle much—in fact, I’ve seen one family group drive away another. But then they seem to come together after the family frenzy has died down. The other morning I counted three males in the group. I can’t tell who’s just recently become a male, but presumably there is a dominance order among them. I must pay more attention.

The cardinals are essentially gone. The only one I’ve seen in ages is the clever young male who figured out how to use the feeder. He isn’t around too much, but seems to come at least once most days. How do I know? If I don’t see him, I can see the tell-tale sunflower shells on top of the feeder!

Finally, on our walk along the river the other day, we saw a herd of vultures, circling and swooping together. I’ve seen these flocks in the past and been told that they migrate together. (I once saw a flock of eighteen circling above the McDonald’s at Tanque Verde and Kolb.) There were at least twenty of them—I lost count. Quite a magnificent sight. But the best was one vulture who dropped out of the overhead circle and landed on top of a power pole. Then he stretched out his wings, forming a cross. He held that position for quite a while, looking just like an eagle on top of a totem pole—except for his small, rather creepy red head.

September 22, 2003

Everybody is migrating or has already left. The white wings disappeared without my noticing, and the hummer population is definitely dwindling. The black chins seem to be gone, too, but a very small bird that has been feeding frequently at my office window feeder is possibly an immature black chin. He wags his tail when he feeds, and has a very faint circle around his throat. I can almost make out purplish.feathers in that band. There’s a broad bill who is so fat--presumably preparing to move on--that he looks like a blue and green feathered ping pong ball.

The activity around the seed feeder has also diminished--I am seeing far fewer cardinals of any age or sex. This may be because of the feeder itself. The only birds that ever mastered it were the finch and the genius young male cardinal. I left it open for a while, but the finch just perched up there and pulled out seed after seed, tossing them on the ground till he found one he liked. He would have emptied the whole thing several times a day if I let him. So I closed it, and now it can only be opened by cardinals (it works on a balance, so only birds of a certain weight can cause the door to open). Unfortunately, only Genius Boy ever figured it out--and he has gotten very good at it. First he hops onto the perch, facing to the right. Then he reverses position, facing left, and sticks his head way inside the opening. When he has a seed, he hops on top of the feeder to open and eat it. Then back to the perch, to repeat the whole operation. It actually looks kind of difficult, but he of all cardinals can have sunflower seeds now at any time of the day, no matter what the weather, with no competition.

When I go outside now to throw a few seeds on the ground for the less intelligent birds, I can always see that Genius Boy has been there, by the sunflower shells on top of the feeder.

September 9, 2003
Well, I had to lower the feeder to a couple of inches above the big flower pot I feed seeds in. Then I had to tape it open. A finch caught on very quickly, and even learned to use the perch. Then a woodpecker learned it, though didn’t get on the perch. The cardinals just kept looking around for seeds, occasionally pecking on the clear plastic sides of the feeder.

Finally, one of the young male cardinals put two and two together and figured it out. He has even learned to hop on the perch when the thing isn’t taped open. So far he’s the only one, though, and the finch seems very disappointed that his former trick no longer works.

Two male cardinals, including (I think) the young genius who knows how to use the feeder, have been traveling together. One is a full adult, the other still sort of splotchy and with his bill just starting to lighten. The weird thing is that the young one constantly begs to be fed when in the company of the adult, even using the baby whistling-teakettle whine. The even weirder thing is that the adult sometimes feeds him, and never drives him away. What an indulgent papa, and what a lucky young bird!

August 30, 2003
There hasn’t been too much activity for the last few days. I used to have a lot of migrating rufous by this time of year, but this year (and last) I haven’t seen any (except maybe a couple of glimpses). I’m sure it’s because so many trees in the neighborhood have been cut down. Very sad. (And we lost another mature mesquite a few days ago to a monsoon.)

On the other hand, there have been a lot of black chins, broad bills, and Anna’s, and the occasional sound of a broad tail. Most of these guys are fat and obviously just passing through.

A couple of days ago I heard (then saw) a mockingbird that seemed to be in distress. It’s way too late in the season for a baby to be down, and then I realized that this guy *was* a baby, or rather a juvenile (very short tail). His distress call was to his parents, to come feed him, which they have been doing pretty continually.

The biggest news is that we now have a cardinal feeder, but none of the cards has come even close to figuring it out, even though I have the lid off. A white wing figured it out right away, but those are the guys I’m most trying to keep away from the seeds. In the meantime, we continue to put seeds on the bench in the front patio, and the juveniles continue to eat them, growing more daring every day. Now if only they would notice the cornucopia of seeds practically in front of their beaks….

August 16, 2003
There is a beautiful blondish coyote we sometimes see when walking on the river walk. It looks well fed and its coat is thick and healthy-looking, unlike the scruffy, unkempt appearance of so many urban coyotes. We usually see it around 7 AM, trotting purposefully north from the brush to the south, then across the river walk and down the bank, across the river, and into the brush and scrub on the north side of the river bottom. I always assume it’s going home after a hard night of stalking and eating pet cats.

Anyway, we’ve had a lot of rain in the mountains, and yesterday the river was flowing. On our way back from our walk we saw the coyote just ahead, walking purposefully toward the river bank. It reached the bank, had one foot out to start down, then it did a double take and just stared into the torrent. It turned around and started to trot back where it came from, then turned again, and again approached the bank. Again it stared down into the water for a few moments, then finally gave up, returning to the scrubby deserty area to the south.

It was actually quite comical. You could almost see the thought balloons forming in the coyote’s head. “Whoa! What’s this?” Then, “No way, I must have imagined that.” Then, upon approaching the river again, “Yikes! That’s really water! What’s it doing there? …. Guess I’ll have to try again later.”

August 11, 2003
More dominance stuff: A beautiful mockingbird (to me, these two words go together), feeding off a grapefruit slice on top of the redwood planter, was approached by a towhee, who ran along the ground, looking up to see what was so interesting/delicious. The mocker merely gave the towhee a Look that apparently said, “I could peck you to death if I wanted to.” Without further ado, the towhee quickly retreated.

Lizards: I love lizards. They are so interesting to watch, and there are so many different kinds around here. For example, I love to watch the little geckos (almost certainly Mediterranean geckos, an introduced species) cling to the screens at night, waiting to catch bugs. When you turn on the porch light, you can see right through their skin and study their innards. The other day I saw a “horny toad” in the neighborhood, the first I have seen around here. I remember them well from my childhood. We used to believe that they could spit tobacco juice from their eyes. (Actually, they can expel blood from their eyes to frighten off predators.) Also I love to watch those guys that zip along the sand on their hind legs, tails in the air.

I actually just found out that the guys who run on their hind legs are collared lizards (the ones with blue bellies are spiny lizards). Walking along the wash the other day, I saw a collared lizard run up the side of the wash, across the path, and up another incline, faster than I could think. I started imagining that this is how birds might have gotten started--with some little dinosaurs that ran like the collared lizards. Maybe one day one of them ran like that to escape a predator. And maybe he just happened to have a mutation that gave him webbed fingers or very flat forelimbs. Anyway, maybe he just happened to soar a little ways--away from the startled and disappointed predator. Then he passed this useful trait on to his children, and so on….

I often wish I could have been around in the days of dinosaurs, to hear them. I’ll bet that a lot of them sounded like birds, with chirps and songs. There would also be raucous cries and roars. It must have been a wonderful cacophony.

August 9, 2003
Lots of bird activity this morning! (It’s a nice, warm, soon to be hot and humid typical monsoon day.) For example, there’s a lovely little goldfinch (Lesser, I’m pretty sure, but I’m not going to tell him that) eating the poisonous seeds on the lantana. Last night a ferocious windstorm knocked down the last grapefruit, and this morning I sliced it for the birds. A few minutes ago a mockingbird was helping himself and rebuffing a young cardinal, who hung around, waiting not-too-patiently, then finally hopped up when the mockingbird left. I’ve observed that mostly all a dominant bird has to do is take a threatening step or hop toward the bird it wants to scare off (unlike the white-wing that pecked the juvey cardinal the other day).

But here’s the big news. Last evening toward sunset I heard a tremendous racket--it sounded like a gazillion young begging cardinals. I looked out at the seed feeder, and there were FOUR of them. Two were very young (from their smaller size, short tails, and lack of any red), one was mottled red and orange, with his bill beginning to turn orange, and one hopped away before I could observe him carefully. It was interesting that the one turning colors was willing to let the babies feed with him.

Earlier this morning I had a juvenile hummer feeding from the feeder right outside my office window. It was quite small with a very short bill and tail, and mostly grey with a white, heavily mottled chest. A quick glance at Sheri Williamson’s wonderful hummingbird book makes me think it is probably a young female Anna’s.

August 7, 2003
Whoops! This morning I did see three nearly-grown chicks with a mom and pop quail family. So the two-juvenile family is another set. Haven’t noticed the one-offspring family for a while, and never saw the large family with very young chicks after the first time. Maybe I totally traumatized them away from the yard. I do have to say that this is a banner quail year for me, because it’s the first in which I have seen any babies at all in my actual yard.

There have been a lot of towhees around--feeding mostly in the back of the yard in the sunflower feeder, but I’ve also seen them scratching under the suet feeder. They sound a bit like baby cardinals, but without the whistling-teakettle overtones. They seem to be dominant to everything but white-wings, who dominate mostly because of their size. (Yesterday evening I saw a white-wing peck a juvenile cardinal that continued to feed on seeds after the white-wing arrived).

And speaking of the juveniles, there actually are quite a few still visiting. There’s a male who has become quite red and whose beak is beginning to lose its black color. I don’t know if he’s a juvey from this year or not. There’s also a very curious and bold juvenile that I assume is a female (because very little red anywhere) who seems to be around a lot.

We’ve started putting a few seeds in the front patio as an experiment, and she (or another bold female) has found them. This morning I startled her away from the bench with the seeds, then stopped still and watched while she regarded me through the glass door, then slowly… slowly… made her way back to the bench. Hopping from flower pot to flower pot, stopping after each move to look at me and then look around, then hopping closer… finally onto the outside edge of the bench… Once last glance up at me, then BAM! She darted in, snatched a seed, and flew off to the presumed safety of the side yard to enjoy it.

August 5, 2003
I haven’t seen anything new for a few days. One of the quail families that I’ve seen several times over the last few days has two nearly-grown chicks. I fear that is the quail family that had three chicks until recently. At any rate, I haven’t seen a family with three feeding anytime lately

One interesting thing about the quail families is that they don’t usually all feed together. Usually, the mama and chicks feed first, while the Lord and Master watches over them from on top of the wall. He always looks very regal. I assume this is a wild-bird thing, where he keeps watch to make sure there aren’t any predators around. Then after a while he comes and feeds. The others often fly up to the wall, wander around, or just continue foraging while he eats.

August 1, 2003
Things have been somewhat slow--I guess because most of the birds have finished raising their families. But not quite. The young quail families continue to show up. The three-child and one-child quail families are now pretty much groups of adults. The children are nearly adult-sized, and their Mohawks are turning into recognizable topknots. Still not much body striping, though, and I haven’t been able to figure out who’s a girl and who’s a boy, though I’m keeping close watch.

The cardinals, too, have pretty much dispersed. I still see occasional juveniles seeking sunflower seeds or pecking under the suet feeder, but far fewer and less often. I expect that some of them have perished or flown off elsewhere to set up their own territories. On the other hand, yesterday I heard the unmistakable whistling-teakettle sound of a young cardinal, and saw Mr. Cardinal--one of the regular fathers--with one begging baby. They were back again today. The baby is pretty developed, and I may not have noticed it because I haven’t been watching as intently as I did earlier in the season. Also, the citrus crop is finished for the year, and I’m only putting out sliced fruit occasionally.

Finally--today I saw an important first! Not a new bird, but the very first bunny rabbit I’ve ever seen in my yard. He was an adorable cotton-tail, it was around 2 PM, and he was nosing around the rose bushes. A few minutes later he disappeared out the side hole in the wall.

July 19, 2003
This is now officially Quail City! There is yet another quail family in the back yard--this time with five babies, slightly larger than thimbles--maybe the size of demitasse cups. I saw them when I went out to change the hummer feeders this morning. I moved very gently and quickly so the mom wouldn’t abandon them, then watched them through the window while they fed under the suet feeder. Even as tiny as they are, they use their legs to kick away the top layer of whatever they are feeding on, to expose the bottom layer of yummy stuff.

I’ve kind of lost track of how many quail families I’ve seen this year--and this is the first year I have ever seen babies in the yard. The teenagers from the one- and three- chick families still feed here with their parents; they are about 2/3 adult size now.

Where do they all come from? How do they know to come to my yard? Have any of them had nests in my yard, say under the vines along the north side of the house? Mysteries

July 16, 2003
There’s not much going on these days. The fire is out and the monsoons are trying to get started. There have been a few very windy monsoons, only one of which also held rain. It’s good that the birds pretty much finish their nesting before monsoon, because the winds have been awful, and the ground would have been littered with broken eggs and lost babies.

Speaking of babies… the squirrel child has a companion of about the same age. I’m just going to assume they are both the orphans of the poor squirrel that was run over. The new young squirrel seems much more skittish than the first, which will stay in the yard near the exit hole even when I come outside. The new one, however, has figured out about the grapefruit slices and I’m sure it won’t be long till it teaches the first squirrel.

It is 109 degrees this afternoon. Very uncomfortable. Wasps have been hanging around the door to enjoy the cool air blowing out in the exhaust from the cooler. The quail family with five chicks has been feeding under the tangelo tree for quite a while. The babies are definitely teenagers now, and though they still have “Mohawks,” you can see they have developed tiny topknots, which I like to think of as fishing lures. All the birds, including the quail, are making good and frequent use of the pond, to drink or splash in. I’m so glad that I have it here.