Sandhill Cranes, Willcox Arizona
The Willcox Golf course is a prime birding area and very close to the town. On this score, an overzealous ebird volunteer corrected me on the distance I’d travelled. I’m getting used to ebird challenges so I rarely now record a species unless I’m damned certain I’m correct and have good pictures to prove it. Being corrected on distance is a new one for me but I guess it matters to some researcher somewhere. Part of the problem in this case was that I had to drive miles to find the stupid place, which is called the Cochise Lake and Twin Lakes Golf Course not, as I thought, the Willcox Golf Course. But I digress.
Waterfowl and shorebirds frequent the sloughs near the course. A sandy road makes a circuit of the sloughs, which, I think, are called playas in these parts. Most stops along the route are productive. A dozen or so Long-billed Curlews feed in the shallows and, near them, two American Avocets. The Avocets are rare here at this time of year and I’m delighted to see them. In the middle distance, huge flocks of Sandhill Cranes arrive and depart in noisy confusion as the sun begins to set. A cold wind that could ‘trim a hedge’ makes standing around watching more a bit of a trial. A Vermilion Flycatcher drops by and poses for pictures. These little birds, black masked and tropical red, always delight me. I also spot a Say’s Phoebe and then a two Black Phoebes and, with that, I call it a day. That night I eat at the local Barbecue, which is okay but. Like many things in the town, the atmosphere is not overwhelmingly welcoming. With that, I’ve done the Willcox nightlife so far as I can tell. In any case, my eyes are strained and I’m bone tired. Enough, Michael, tomorrow you start early. I go back to the motel, get ready for bed and fall asleep before I get through two pages of my book.
Long-billed Curlews, American Avocets and Coots, Willcox, Arizona
My first official field trip of the Festival is to the Cochise stronghold, which means I’m see more than just birds here. I love history, having written over a dozen history textbooks in my time. I also love the history of the old west. Cochise led the Chiricahua Apache against American soldiers and settlers in the in the 19th century. The war started over a cow and ended up costing four thousand lives. I know it would have been death for our little party to be in the pretty park on the stream back then. Today, the Chiricahua have a few ceremonial acres donated to them by a white benefactor. It almost makes one weep to think of the injustice of it all.
Cochise Stronghold Rock Formations
This is the beginning of a long weekend, which means campers and RVs are in the park early to secure a spot for the weekend. The desire to be closet to the washroom results in some amusing attempts to back ten-foot wide vehicles into nine-foot wide spaces. I’m estimating, of course. I don’t need to measure vehicle or space. What I can say is that aluminum being scraped by tree branches makes for some God-awful screeches. This happens to different RVs in different spots at least a half dozen times. It makes birding less serene, that’s for sure.
Some times a group leader doesn’t have the bird luck, not when you’re part of the group anyway. This has now happened to me. I’ve drawn the unlucky leader. The birds just aren’t there for us, with the result that members of the party drift off on their own, or tag along with a new group which seems to have drawn with a lucky leader. I did both. I got a sweetly singing Canyon Wren out of the latter bit of disloyalty. I picked up a few other birds, including a Townsend’s Solitaire, but it was the fact of being in the Stronghold with its echoes of the last days of an independent Chiricahua nation, that resonated the most with me. I’m almost sad to leave but the din caused by arriving RVs backing into too-small sites helps us on our way.
We make a stop to check out a flock of birds that turn out to be lark Buntings. Then we move on to a dairy farm and veal ranch that has a permanent pond. Nothing much to note here — Northern Shovelers, Widgeon and Mallards predominate. I’ve seen all these guys many times before. And then we’re back at the community center and pile off the school bus that has transported us around. I don’t have a trip planned for the morrow so I’m free to explore on my own. Conversations on the bus have given me some options. Next morning, I’ll head south. I’ve heard there’s a Sinaloa Wren down there and I’d like to have that bird!