Birds do it

January 18, 2024 to January 19, 2024

Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it - - Cole Porter

Thursday

My cold is improving but still with me, having settled into what for me is my classic pattern - a snotty congestion that periodically erupts into a racking coughing spasm, a pattern that typically persists for days or even weeks. It was bad enough last night that I finally got up after one spell and spent the rest of the night on the couch so as to not disturb Rachael’s sleep.

So I’m still taking it easy today, but with a calm, warm sunny day it’s too fine out to just stay inside. Once it’s warmed up enough I join Rachael for the start of her 44 miler up Oro Valley. And I’m glad I did, because I’m with her to show her the alternate route west on Speedway when we find our way to the Saint Mary’s access to the Loop blocked by a stopped freight train.

We bike together up the loop for five miles, but when we come to Silverbell Lake I peel off to check out the bird scene. I spend the better part of an hour slow-walking the bike around the lake and then move on to Sweetwater for more of the same. A nice, relaxed way to spend the heart of the day, soaking up the sun and hoping to add a new bird to the list - not that that’s too likely, since I’ve already spotted all the commonly seen birds here and I’m out at probably the least promising part of the day.

Certainly the most interesting sighting of the day was this roadrunner not far in front of me, close enough that I take a wider-view shot of him to include my shadow and show how close she is.

She can’t be more than ten feet away here.

And then she just keeps coming, all but walking between my legs before casually walking off again. She doesn’t seem bothered in the least by my presence.

I’m surprised later when I pull together the day’s list and come up with 37 species. It didn’t feel like I’d seen that much variety today, but a single bird here and there keep popping up - a verdin here, a mockingbird there, and pretty soon we’re talking about real numbers.

And the real surprise is that I come up with two new birds for the year - a poor shot of a Lincoln’s sparrow, and a fleeting look at a red-naped sapsucker, a bird I’ve been hoping to see here but that disappears too fast for even a poor shot. It’s unmistakeable though, differentiated from the other local woodpeckers by its long white wing stripe.

And the other good news for the day is that I’m none the worse for the outing and my health continues to improve. With luck, I can join Rachael for a real ride tomorrow.

Cinnamon teal. I’m really pleased with this shot, showing both the green and blue windows in its wings. They aren’t usually both visible, and I wasn’t even sure it was this species until I confirmed it later.

Friday

So here’s the spot in today’s program where if the kids are still up they should be excused from the room, maybe by redirecting them to another channel to catch up on the latest adventures of the amorous toons. Pretty spicy stuff, but still safely PG-rated.

Today we’re taking the Hank Aaron ride - the 44 mile out and back along the northeast corner of the Loop. It’s my suggestion to take this ride, prompted by Kelly’s report that she’s seen the Harris’s hawks near Sellarole Road again, a sighting she says she can almost always count on lately. I’ve already seen my first Harris’s hawk a few days go, a distant flyover above Silverbell Lake, but I’m hoping for a much better shot this time.

I ride together with Rachael for about 18 miles but turn off when I come to Michael Perry Park, the alternate site near Sellarole that Kelly reports seeing these birds. If they’re not on Sellarole they’re here in this park, perched atop the light standards above the baseball fields. Rachael continues on of course, with the plan that she’ll pick me up on the way back.

They’re not hanging out in the ball park today - really, there’s not much here than an old couple selling bibles and good words or whatever - so I continue on to nearby Sellarole and immediately spot one atop a pole, backlit by the sun. I spend the next twenty minutes trying to work my way closer, following it as it moves from one side of the small wash to the other, and then back again. At one point a second hawk swoops in and there’s some activity as the two of them appear to be fighting over their prey, a small bird from the looks of it, until the second one flies off into the trees with the small bird dangling from its beak.

And, while I’ve got my eye on the main show I hear the familiar melodious song of a thrasher right behind me so I break away briefly for that too.

Another curve-billed thrasher! After seeing none for almost a month, they keep showing up now.

It’s amazing that this bird stays put as I inch in closer, taking another set of shots about every thirty feet I move in. Eventually I succeed in circling around to her other side so she’s not backlit any more and I get the kind of shots I was hoping for. As I’m taking my shots she’s preening herself, fluffing up, and occasionally looking to the sky and making a soft call, apparently trying to lure in her mate.

This is so much better than I’d hoped for that I’m really elated. While I’m shooting away Rachael bikes past, stops and calls to see if I’m coming yet, but I wave her on. It’s the last I’ll see of her until we’re both home.

Finally though I decide I’ve seen enough and am ready to pocket the camera and try to chase down Rachael when a woman on a bike calls out: Hey, are you from Portland? She’s seen my Bike Gallery jersey and recognizes it. We have a lengthy chat - she’s from Oregon, bought her first real bike from the Bike Gallery, and she and her husband have just moved down from Bend. They’re accomplished cyclists, having completed Cycle Oregon ten or fifteen times, but now after a pair of knee replacements she’s easing into a life of less challenging riding. And I of course offer up a quick rundown on what Rachael and I are doing with our lives, so there’s a lot to talk about.

Amazingly enough, the hawk stays put through all this although the woman is standing right beneath it and we’re chatting back and forth from about thirty feet apart. At one point she finally follows my gaze upwards, sees the bird, and apologizes for intruding. Is that a hawk, she asks, and then gives it a closer look and is impressed by what a beautiful bird it is.

And then while we’re talking the second hawk swoops in. And we both watch in astonishment as we get a lesson on the birds and the bees. So that’s where baby hawks come from! And then he flies off, we break off our chat, and I bike home.

Thanks Kelly, for prompting me to ride out here! And thanks Susan, for the inspiration for this post! I haven’t thought about Cole Peter’s song for a while until you reminded me.

And if you somehow haven’t heard this before, you should:

Today's ride: 90 miles (145 km)
Total: 1,288 miles (2,073 km)

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