By the morning, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll go after the Wren another day. Someone mentioned the San Pedro River and the great birding to be had there plus I can hit another famed spot — Whitewater Draw — on the way back. I grab an egg bun at a fast food restaurant and a coffee, gas up and head towards the San Pedro house and the San Pedro National Conservation Area.
Western Screech Owl, San Pedro House
It’s bit of a drive to San Pedro and after a hundred miles or so I’m thinking fondly about bacon and eggs. I find a breakfast place in Buena Vista, a pretty town that seems to have a fairly affluent population. Afterwards, I discover it’s not far north of the border check where officers stop cars looking for illegal immigrants. There are great gulfs in this world, of all sorts. In any case, that stop rewards me with a pair of Chihuahuan Ravens, a species I’d hoped to see on the trip, plus I got my breakfast.
San Pedro House is yet another birding mecca. The old farmhouse is pleasantly situated in a grove of cottonwoods. Gila woodpeckers, various Sparrows, Lesser Goldfinches, and Inca Doves are working the feeders around it. In the cottonwoods, a Western Screech Owl occupies a nest box — its head stuffed through the opening, closed eyed and sleeping in the sun. From the high branches, a Merlin scans the area.
Lark Sparrows, San Pedro
It’s warming up nicely. The well-used trail leads through scrubby grass and sagebrush. Pyrrhuloxia seem to be everywhere, as do Lark Sparrows, which are abundant on these flats. The trail leads to a noisy brook — the San Pedro River. Apparently, this valley is on the routes illegal migrants take when they come up from Mexico but I see no evidence of this. A Rufous-crowned Sparrow is a highlight.
I leave San Pedro early enough to be able to visit Whitewater Draw, another renowned south Arizona location. The sloughs here are filled with waterfowl and large flocks of Sandhill Cranes line their low, sloping banks. They are noisy critters, those Sandhills, and I’m glad I’m not tenting in the area — sleep would be well nigh impossible.
Sandhill Cranes, Whitewater Draw, Arizona
A fieldtrip to the Sulphur Springs Valley is my last with the Festival. This one is about raptors and I’m excited about it. The valley is known for its raptors but, for miles, we see not a one. And then our luck changes. Near, on and about some stacks of hay bales in the middle of a field, the raptors have gathered. There are at least two big Ferruginous Hawks, standing on the ground, looking like eagles, perhaps a dozen soaring Redtails inhabit the quadrants of the sky Off to the left a Harris’s Hawk wings by, all black and russet; a Kestrel takes up post on a power line; and then, swooping close to the Ferruginous at lightning speed, a Prairie Falcon completes the picture. Surely, it’s the bales that draw them and the mice and rats that inhabit this rodent apartment building. It’s a thrill to see these raptors.
Harris’s Hawk, Sulphur Springs Valley, Arizona
We pile back into the school bus. Our leader is the same man from the day before. Then he was unlucky; today he is lucky; today makes up for all. At a farmhouse at a crossroads, we find a pair of nesting Great Horned Owls. I’m amazed, sometimes, at the behaviour of some birders. My philosophy with birds is to gaze for a polite measure of time, take my pictures, thank the bird for being there and then move off quickly and silently. I try never to crowd the birds, particularly owls. Resting is a life or death thing for them. Some people, however, seem to think that the birds are there for them t take pictures. They move up closer and closer, talking loudly, snapping shots with their phones. Maybe it’s okay but it bothers me to see such, for want of a better word, disrespect.
Great Horned Owl, Sulphur Springs Valley, Arizona
We’re seeing lots of other birds too. I’ve lost count of Meadowlarks (both Eastern and Western occur here but I can’t tell them apart, not with my eyes). We’ve also seen Thrashers, Loggerhead Shrike, a Red-naped Sapsucker and a couple of Ladder-backed Woodpecker. A brace of Greater Roadrunners fill out the score. And that’s it for the Wings Over Willcox festival. When the bus returns to the Community Center, most everything is packed up. Even the Kettle Corn seller who accosted every passerby has departed the scene. I return to my motel room. I’m ready to move on.
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