June 2025: Staying Cool

June 2025: Staying Cool 

It got hot this month in Albuquerque. At times, I considered escape to somewhere cooler, maybe a couple of days in Taos.  But thinking about the extreme drought throughout New Mexico,  it caused me sadness to imagine the carbon I would burn for this quick escape. It wouldn't buy more than a couple days respite, and would contribute to the very heat and dryness that I wanted to escape. Maybe next month I'll do something different, but for June, I decided to stick around and seek enjoyment and contentment where I am. The Sandias allowed some cooling relief without having to drive far. Also, with all the bird nesting activity in the trees behind my condo, there was plenty to observe right from my balcony. The highlight: A Pigeon nest.

In the six years I've lived in this 2nd floor apartment, there have been no pigeons in my "backyard." There's a nesting Ladderback family, Black-Chinned Hummingbirds, House Finches, House Sparrows, Say's Phoebe, Curve-Billled Thrasher, and the full complement of resident Doves. Last year, the backyard adventure was a Mourning Dove fledgling who landed on my balcony and needed a day to figure out how to fly away. I got to witness the parents' regular visits to the balcony for feeding. This year, for unknown reasons, the Rock Pigeons moved in to nest on the rooftops, much to the annoyance of the building owner and property manager. One pair nested in a crook of a tree at eye level from my balcony, maybe 50 feet away. I was moved to watch the attentive care with which both parents brooded over their offspring. 

I first noticed this pigeon sitting on a nest of pine needles at the end of May. (Doves are known for minimalism in nest building.)  Day in, day out, either this pigeon, or a 2nd larger one with a darker head, sat on the nest. At first, they sat low. As they began to sit higher, like this one, I suspected the eggs had hatched. Pigeons and Doves are altricial, very small and helpless at birth. I marveled at the patience of these parents brooding their young. I myself was quite impatient to see something different happening. 

On June 10th, a nestling was finally large enough and mature enough to show itself. For at least a week, maybe more, this baby was growing quickly, low in the nest where I couldn't see her. The parents hovered officiously near by. Then one parent, I think the father by his larger size, came into the nest for a feeding. 

I was able to get some video within those first few days. The first shows how the nestling pokes and prods at daddy to ask for feeding. The 2nd is a short clip from the actual feeding, which lasted more than two minutes on this occasion. (Warning: Pigeon crop feeding is not a pretty sight). 

 

 

 

 

 

Three days later, pinfeathers had sprouted all over the nestling's body. (The colored pencil illustration above is from that day.)  At times, I thought that I saw a 2nd baby, but was never sure of that. 8 days after the first sighting, the nestling had a lot more gray feathers, and was actively begging for a feeding before mom entered the nest (which she did shortly after I took this photo.)

This was the last day I saw the baby. For a couple of days, the parents were still hanging close, and at times seemed to be attending to something out of my sight just on the other side of the trunk. Maybe she had branched? A couple days later, no evidence of parents or child. So, perhaps a successful fledgling, perhaps not, and I'll never know. 

Which leads me to this quote from Margaret Renkl, whose wonderful book The Comfort of Crows I read this month.

"To play close attention to the world is to exist in medias res. . . We can see some of the creatures we share our world with, or at least some evidence of their nearness, but we cannot know the full arc of their story. Every encounter in the outdoors is an episode with a cliffhanger ending. 

In the wild, we see either the story's vulnerable beginning, or its territorial middle, or its heartbreaking end, but we almost never see more than one of these stages for an individual. . . We try to convince ourselves that only the happy ending is possible, that any tragedies we fail to witness are tragedies that never happened. That kind of ignorance is a gift we give ourselves because we are made so uneasy by uncertainty."

Woodpeckers in Cienega Picnic Grounds

On one of my visits to seek coolness in the Sandias, I encountered something I had never seen before. A Hairy Woodpecker was flying out from a tree and hovering for awhile in the air, like a Flycatcher, Yellow-Rumped Warbler, or Hummingbird. He did this twice, returning to the trees in between for more typical Woodpecker foraging behavior. I can only imagine he was trying to catch insects: no other purpose comes to mind. But why? If anyone else has observed this, I would really like to hear about it. 

I ran into Laurel Ladwig out there, completing her Climate Watch survey. She pointed out a Sapsucker cavity in a tree by the parking area. 

Shortly after seeing the cavity, I observed a Red-Naped Sapsucker male moving from tree to tree, closer and closer to the cavity. He eventually landed in front of the cavity. Another Sapsucker, presumably the female, emerged from the cavity, and he took her place. I supposed they were brooding eggs. 

Two weeks later, I returned. Now the unmistakable sound of nestling begging emerged from the cavity. Both the male and female Sapsucker foraged nearby, frequently bringing food to the cavity. In the first photo below, you can see a tree filled with sapsucker holes, where I saw both parents foraging. 

What else did I do to stay content and engaged in this heat?

There was my Sketchers group. A small group of us recently enjoyed a morning in the cool shade at Bike-In Coffee near Old Town. 

And last Monday, I took the Railrunner up to Santa Fe with a couple friends from the bird survey for the Public Lands Rally. At the El Dorado Hotel, the Western Governor's Association was meeting with U.S. Interior Secretary Doug Burgum. In front of the hotel, we added our voices to the crowd chanting "Not for Sale." (This is as much bird-related as everything else here, for without protection of our public lands, the habitats of many creatures will suffer.)

 Final Words

To close off this month, here are some pretty pictures of some of the beautiful creatures I encountered in my visits to the Sandias this month. May July bring monsoons and cooler weather. 

Top to bottom: 

Cassin's Finch male, 

Green-Tailed Towhee

Hoary Comma

House Wren

Weidemeyer's Admiral. 

 

 

 

 

May 2025: Portal, AZ Trip Report

Southeast Arizona Trip Report

I'm breaking with my usual once monthly posting format to report on a trip to SE Arizona (Portal area) that I took at the beginning of May, the height of Spring Migration. It seems like it would be just too much to combine all the photos from this trip with whatever else might happen in May. In addition to loads of bird photos, I have just a few sketches of some birds that I wasn't able to photograph. That story later.

Southwestern Research Station

I stayed at the Southwestern Research Station. There was so much bird activity right at the research station that I spent most of the time right there on the grounds. 

The first thing you hear when you arrive at the research station are the raucous calls of the Acorn Woodpeckers as they chase each other through the trees. 

Ground Feeders (of all Kinds)

 On my first morning, I looked out from my window to find a flock of Wild Turkeys foraging on the lawn outside my room. Two males followed the females around, strutting in a full display of their wild regalia. 

This male was right outside my window for awhile. I was mesmerized watching the way he strutted with short quick steps, quivering his feathers.  "Right outside my window" became a recurring theme: Throughout my stay, I looked out my window frequently whenever I was inside, and there were almost always one or more birds foraging on the lawn. From top to bottom: Chipping Sparrow, Green-Tailed Towhee, Lark Sparrow, Lincoln's Sparrow. (Poor photo quality due to shooting through the window.)

Each morning, I would walk around the grounds, observing the bird activity. Many of the birds I was seeing each morning may have come in overnight, stopping for a rest on their migration. Perhaps that partly explained the unusual behavior of many of the birds. Birds that are normally rather hard to see as they move through the trees, birds that I have never before seen out in the open, or on the ground, were spending much of their time foraging on the ground to eat the seedpods that were being blown out of the trees by the wind. The wind was supporting them in an easy energy-saving way to fuel up for their journey, I guess. 

 

  Top to bottom, Western Tanager male, Wilson's Warbler male, and, most astonishingly, a Yellow-Breasted Chat collecting seedpods from both the ground and the roof.

 Flycatchers

Just about everywhere I looked, there would be a small flycatcher perched low to the ground to stake out insects. As far as I could tell they were mostly Hammond's and Dusky Flycatchers, but I did see one Gray and one Willow Flycatcher.

  Vermilion Flycatchers were prominent, mostly female. (I got one quick glimpse of a bright red male, and also saw a couple of fledglings.) 

SWRS Hummingbird Station

The Southwestern Research Station does Hummingbird banding research, and accordingly has a very nice Hummingbird feeder area. The area was bustling with Black-Chinned, Broad-Billed, Rivoli's Hummingbirds, and Blue-Throated Mountain Gem. We got to observe the banding one morning. Photos show a bander examining a Rivoli's Hummingbird's skin by blowing on his feathers with a straw, then bringing him to nectar for re-hydration before releasing (The Blue-Throated Mountain Gem you can recognize by the blue throat, and the Rivoli's is the one with the amazing green gorget.)

B

The Pond: My Favorite Spot

On a trail behind the buildings at the SWRS, I found a couple of small stagnant ponds. (I believe these are kept irrigated in spite of the drought due to this being one of the few breeding areas for the rare Leopard Frog.) One had a bench beside it, making it perfect as a place where I could sit comfortably for awhile and just observe. A Black Phoebe worked the surface of the pond to catch insects. A Chipping Sparrow landed at the edge of the water for a drink. There was a tree to the left of the bench, four feet away from me.

A Brown Creeper landed on the trunk right at my eye level and took my breath away. I wouldn't have dreamed of spoiling the moment by trying to take a photo. This is what can happen when we slow down enough: Wildlife may feel safe enough to come very close to us. The Brown Creeper moved up the trunk, then on to other trunks, their usual behavior. I came back to this sitting spot daily, and what do you know, the Brown Creeper repeated the performance, coming back to land on the trunk four feet from me three more times in the course of their foraging. Because I couldn't take a photo, I sketched to commemorate the event: 

I came to this spot each day of my visit, sitting on the bench for at least 45 minutes each time. One early evening, I was listening to a Dusky-Capped Flycatcher calling loudly in the vicinity. I thought to myself, "I bet that if I sit here long enough, that Flycatcher will show up."

Not long after I had that thought, a large flycatcher landed in a tree across from the pond. Rusty tail, yellowish breast, large bill. Not a Dusky-Capped, but a Brown Crested Flycatcher, a bird in the same genus (myiarchus) as the Dusky-Capped. That bird flew down to the creek. Just a minute later, a smaller myiarchus-shaped flycatcher appeared in a different tree. Dusky-capped Flycatcher! Didn't stay long, but these were the best views I've had of both of these southern flycatchers. Yay for stillness!

Portal

Though I spent most of my time up the road at the Southwestern Research Station, the town of Portal itself was a good place for seeing several birds that I didn't see at the station. Some people in town provide amazing feeder areas that are open to visitors, sustained by the donations of visitors. I find that I love more the quiet discovery of a pond in a natural setting. Yet I know the birds can really use the extra sustenance and hydration during the dryness of severe drought. And it is fun to see so much bird activity. 

A Bronzed Cowbird male very much appreciated the dripping water feature in the Jasper yard.

 

 

A male Hepatic Tanager preferred the oranges at the "Jam Bar" in another yard.

And both male and female Cardinals appreciated the seeds wherever they were offered

 

Mammals

In closing, I need to give the mammals their due. It's not ALL birds. In fact, deer were abundant at the Southwestern Research Station. I just didn't get any good pictures. I did get a photo of this Javelina which was just a few feet away from me (on the other side of a fence) foraging on the ground at a feeder area right in Portal. There were two of them, and I was close enough to hear how they snorted and grunted to communicate with one another as they foraged. 

Finally, that ever-present mammal, the homo sapiens. I had the fortune to connect with this fine crew of humans who also happened to be staying at the SWRS. Michele and Reuben live in Tucson: I knew them from when they lived in Albuquerque, and this is the first time I've seen them in years. Jan and Ernie live in Albuquerque. Thanks Michele, for sharing the photo.