A Morning Hike in Pima Canyon

This past Thursday, Jake Mohlmann and I made a quick early morning hike into Pima Canyon, partly for the exercise, partly with the hope of finding some good birds, and knowing that there’s always cool critters and stunning scenery.

We started hiking at about 6:15 am, when most of the canyon, draining toward the SW, is still in the shade. This is a view from near the start of the trail looking south over Tucson and at the Santa Rita Mountains in the distance.

Along the first part of the trail were dozens of these Lateral Seed Bugs, Melacoryphus lateralis.

And shortly after that was this Giant Cactus Longhorn, Moneilema gigas.

A little while later we found another doing what this odd, huge, flightless cerambycid does – eat cactus.

The sun rose quickly to enter the upper parts of the canyon. This is Jake next to a Saguaro, Carnegiea gigantea.

Large stretches of the trail were wonderfully perfumed by the abundant blooms of the Catclaw Acacia, Senegalia wrightii.

There were lots of bees, flies, wasps and other insects attracted to these flowers. This syrphid fly is probably Mexican Cactus Fly, Copestylum mexicanum.

One could spend weeks botanizing here. I took time to key out just two pink composites, both new for me. The first was Acourtia wrightii, Brownfoot or Wright's Desertpeony, which I recognized from its close relative Acourtia thurberi, common south of here.

It has a very unusual flower structure similar to Trixis, in that instead of having one-petaled ray flowers, five-petaled disk flowers, or a combination of the two, each flower has two petals on opposite sides – one with three minute teeth and one with two minute teeth. It hints at the evolutionary origin of ray flowers, each tooth being the end result of what once was a single petal of a regular tubular flower.

This one is Stephanomeria tenuifolia, Narrowleaf Wirelettuce. Like all members of the chicory tribe (like true lettuce and dandelions), the entire head is composed of five-toothed ray flowers.

While enjoying the wirelettuce, I noticed that an unusual skipper landed on it, and I quickly snapped a photo before it took off. It was a Cestus Skipper, Atrytonopsis cestus, which I had only seen once before in Brown Canyon near the Mexico border. It’s very scarce anywhere in the U.S. but is known from the Santa Catalina foothill canyons like this one where the host plant occurs, the grass Bamboo Muhly, Muhlenbergia dumosa. We didn’t see any of the grass, but there must be a clump or two somewhere in the canyon.

There were lots of butterflies everywhere, but we stopped to photograph just this one Mexican (or Sonoran) Metalmark, Apodemia mejicana.

We stopped by a wet part of the stream where there were several caterpillars belonging to Common Buckeye, Junonia coenia, feeding on the monkeyflower.

At the same spot I photographed some lovely damselflies, which, upon inspection of the photos, turn out to be Spine-tipped Dancers, Argia extranea. In this photo you can actually make out the tiny projection on the lower appendages at the end of the abdomen that give it the name.

We made it as far as the lower dam at nearly 3 ½ miles, a spot with permanent water, also well known amongst birders as having the northernmost record of Rufous-capped Warbler.

There was lots of bird activity around, and we dallied here for some 15 minutes. This juvenile Anna’s Hummingbird came to bathe on the face of the dam.

Jake called out a very distant Turkey Vulture…or Zone-tailed Hawk, he admitted. It was too far to see for certain, even with our top-of-the-line Zeiss binoculars.

But I snapped a photo with my Canon PowerShot SX50 HD, zoomed in, and I could see that it was indeed a Zone-tailed Hawk.

This canyon has a known territory of Golden Eagles which when seen on the Tucson Valley Christmas Bird Count are the only ones. Sometimes they are missed. But looking upstream from the dam, I spotted one flying high across the canyon, and soon we were watching two Golden Eagles soaring and doing a roller coaster display flight to broadcast the occupation of their territory to anyone watching.

Jake, with his trained eyes, started scanning the cliffs up the canyon and spotted the nest with a juvenile, no less.

We saw and heard a total of 53 species, amongst which were several migrants. Lazuli Buntings were often in pairs, and the males singing, but they aren’t known to breed here so must have been passing through.

There were plenty of lizards around, and this Clark's Spiny Lizard, Sceloporus clarkii, was particularly photogenic.

We’re past the prime prickly pear blooming season, but there were still a few on what I think is Tulip Pricklypear, Opuntia phaeacantha.

This one had a pollinator in the form of a beetle in the family Cleridae ­­­­­­­– Ornate Checkered Beetle, Trichodes ornatus.

With views like this, it’s no wonder that this is such a popular hiking destination for Tucsonans. We came across 12 hikers, all in pairs, on this weekday morning.

Near the end of our hike I noticed the first bloom on a Saguaro, the state flower. It’s said to be fragrant, but I haven’t had an opportunity to smell one yet.

A Mallow Scrub-Haistreak in the Yard

This has been an amazing spring for butterflies in SE Arizona, almost certainly a results of having the second warmest winter on record coupled with relatively good rains, all following the warmest winter on record as well as a decent monsoon.

Just in my suburban Tucson yard, which isn’t landscaped at all for butterflies (with the exception of just not pulling native weeds they might like), numbers and diversity are quite astonishing. White Checkered-Skipper is one of the more usual species in the yard.

Most exciting, during the few days I had between my Jamaica and Costa Rica tours, was this Mallow Scrub-Hairstreak. I had been reading about all of the reports from last fall, many lingering into December, and a couple even found on the Santa Catalina Mountains Butterfly Count on March 29. But I had still never seen this rarity in Arizona, let alone in my own yard.

But the dominating bug, to this day, is Texan Crescent. I think I saw one or two in the past 15 years, and at this very moment there are at least 8 in the yard, each patrolling its own territory.

Not a butterfly, but a moth at my reading lamp the other night was this Chloraspilates bicoloraria. There’s nothing quite like it with those contrastingly brown hind wings, but the green color would have you looking among the emeralds of the subfamily Geometrinae; however, this trickster belongs to the huge (750+ species in North American) subfamily Ennominae.

A Nearly Perfect Day in Jamaica, Plus Some Beetles and Moths

Our second full day of birding in Jamaica was nearly perfect, a ideal day of sublime birding, one amazing bird sighting after another, mixed with odd plants, vertebrates, and invertebrates, many also endemic.

I can barely imagine a more enjoyable day of birding for my clients. I had gotten up extra early, prepared a scrambled egg, toast, and cereal breakfast for them so we could be out in the good habitat at dawn (and our housekeepers had prepared fruit plates the evening before), and by noon we had seen 22 of the island’s 27 endemics, most of them extremely well. Just the evening before, after some effort, we had amazing views of a Jamaican Owl and earlier that day we had perfect views of this Jamaican Lizard-Cuckoo with no help from my iPod.

That meant by lunchtime this day, which was a delightful preparation by our housekeepers (and I had to order it from home several days in advance), we had seen (SEEN!) 24 of Jamaica’s 27 endemic birds.

We had views of a perched Ring-tailed Pigeon. We hadn’t yet had our best views of Crested Quail-Dove (see my previous blog), but everyone had countable views. A Chestnut-bellied Cuckoo was very obliging, and if the Jamaican Mangos weren’t satisfactory, one was at the feeders at our lodge, and the same could be said of the Black-billed Streamertails. We saw several Jamaican Todies, some at a ridiculously close range, like this one.

We had seen Jamaican Woodpecker the day before, but today we had spectacular views. Black-billed and Yellow-billed Parrots perched for scope views, Jamaican Elaenia responded to playback like nothing else existed, and this Sad Flycatcher was almost close enough to touch.

We got our best views of Rufous-tailed Flycatcher, saw Jamaican Vireo well enough to count, and enjoyed the oddness of a Blue Mountain Vireo. Jamaican Crow called here and there and flew by well enough to see that it was indeed a crow, and we even saw the white chin on White-chinned Thrushes. The strange Orangequit was everywhere, the monotypic genus of Yellow-shouldered Grassquit couldn’t have performed better, Jamaican Spindalis was hard to avoid, Jamaican Blackbird was easier than usual, and Jamaican Euphonia showed up here and there with no effort.

So what kept this day from the absolute pinnacle of perfection? After all, how can you top seeing 24 amazing endemics in 24 hours, all lifers for everyone except for me and my co-leader Ann Sutton? And we even had heard a 25^th endemic superbly, the White-chinned Thrush, which has a marvelously musical voice superseding its own appearance by any measure. There were only two endemics we hadn’t seen or heard, and to be sure I was keeping track, and we still had FIVE more days on the island. I had worked hard and enjoyed showing these all to my clients; after all, I had developed a personal relationship with all of these species over the past 16 years. So what kept this from being the most perfect birding day ever?

It came at about 3:45 p.m. when one participant asked, “So, what are our chances that we’ll see Jamaican Pewee?” I found that question more than just annoying, though I simply and pointedly responded by saying just that. A happy and thoughtful person should have been still swooning over just that one Jamaican Tody, or even more so over the Jamaican Lizard-Cuckoo we saw as it pried apart clusters of dead leaves right over the road. And I’m certain most of the participants were doing just that. I was fully aware we hadn’t seen Jamaican Becard, White-eyed Thrush, or Jamaican Pewee, for that is my job, and I always want my clients to see everything. I was also aware that most people needed better view of Jamaican Vireo and Arrowhead Warbler, and we hadn’t yet seen a Jamaican Crow perched, for example. But who in their right mind would have been thinking about those misses after all we had seen? Isn’t it fair to assume that our chances for seeing any more endemics were as good as they’ll ever be, given that that’s my job, and I was currently doing it nearly 12 hours a day and we had five days left? Besides, is there really an answer to that question that makes any sense? Of course with birds, it’s never 100%, so was she honestly hoping for answer like 91.29% or 88.4%? Since there obviously isn’t a correct answer to that question, I instantly regarded it as a rhetorical and offensive criticism of my effort and abilities. I saw it as an indication that everything I had done this day, starting with getting up extra early to make breakfast had been a complete failure and that nothing we had seen that day counted towards anything. But of course only after I thought about it for some time did I conclude that it wasn’t meant to be that, and didn’t reflect on me at all – it reflected only on that one person’s mindless goal of getting all of the endemics and a persistent internal state of dissatisfaction and unhappiness. I can’t change that in anyone, but then why not a more thoughtful and less critical way of asking that question, such as “is the Ecclesdown Road the only place we had a chance for Jamaican Pewee, or might we see it later in the tour as well?”

It’s impossible for me to not be preachy at this point, and maybe I’ll encourage people to be happy if I vent just a little. There are anywhere from 10,000 to 15,000 species of birds on this planet. No one will ever see them all. If your goal when traveling somewhere is just to see all of the birds, you will probably fail, and why would you want that? I’m not against listing, and in fact I encourage it – it takes you to interesting places, and it’s a great portal for learning about bird biogeography, behavior, genetics, and identification – as long as the list isn’t your only goal. My career is a joy only as I share others’ delight in discovering the amazing birds we see on my tours. But if their one and only goal is to see them all, to miss nothing, then they are setting themselves up – and me as well – for disappointment, and at the same time they’re not really able to enjoy the birds they’re seeing each step along the way, for worrying about missing the next one is always there. I try to not market my tours as those on which you see every endemic, every specialty. Except for that first tour in 1999, when we only heard Crested Quail-Dove, I have never missed an endemic species in Jamaica (though don’t tell anyone that, nor the fact that I showed Joe Thompson all 27 endemics in just over 12 hours one day a few years ago). If the Greater Antillean Elaenia gets split, we’ll certainly miss that endemic from time to time, though I’ve now seen it three years in a row. And sometimes we get just one Bahama Mockingbird or just brief views of Rufous-throated Solitaire, both of which could be split and become island endemics. There’s no sign that Jamaican Blackbird is getting any more common (and it’s probably the scarcest endemic and the pickiest when it comes to needing very good habitat), and on some tours I’ve come close to missing Jamaican Lizard-Cuckoo. So it will happen.

But I don’t want to stress getting all the endemics, because I don’t want people to have that nagging worry instead of having fun. Enjoy what you’re seeing in the moment and let me worry about missing birds. No matter what, we’ll see some spectacular birds, including some common birds performing spectacular behaviors, and we see some pretty amazing moths, butterflies, fish, reptiles, amphibians, miscellaneous invertebrates, and maybe even some mammals.

So I fumed (mostly internally) for the next day or so, but then we saw the pewee, had amazing views of a Rufous-throated Solitaire feeding on berries below eye level, and had the mind-blowing looks at Crested Quail-Dove; and that one unhappy moment dwindled in importance. We eventually had superb views of White-eyed Thrush, had plenty of Jamaican Becards building nests, even saw the crows perched and even better views of Black-billed Parrots. Though I added no new bird species to my island list, I still enjoyed showing them to people for whom almost everything was new, and who will probably never get a chance to see them again. Besides, you can never see too many Jamaican Todies, and we saw some every day of the tour. I also still delighted in learning more about Jamaica’s natural history, including plants and bugs. I actually knew the name of this Eburia tetrastalacta long horned beetle after lunch on our first day (though most participants wouldn’t even get out of their chair to come see it, sigh), since I had seen it every year so far that I have been paying attention to beetles in Jamaica.

But then at lunch two days later everyone got to see this longhorn, a new one for me, Elaphidion spinicorne. Though not an island endemic, it’s apparently a Greater Antillean specialty. Many thanks to the folks who created the New World Cerambycidae Catalog.

There were several interesting moths at Starlight Chalet this time, and this spectacular endemic Jamaican Wasp Moth, Horama grotei, was my favorite find.

This erebid Eulepidotis modestula isn’t endemic, but it’s one of the prettiest of this genus I’ve seen. It looks extremely similar to photos of Eulepidotis micca, known as a vagrant in Texas, and I suspect there might be some confusion there.

This is Epimecis scolopaiae, probably one of the largest members of this geometrid genus (with something like 44 species) and a Greater Antillean endemic as well. As far as I can tell, there are no live photos of this species online.

Also new for the internet as a live bug is this noctuid Bryolymnia floccifera, apparently a Jamaican endemic. "Bryo" refers to moss, but I don't know what "lymnia" means, unless it's related to "limn," perhaps in the sense of  "highlight." And "floccifera" means bearing woolly tufts.

I had photographed this little geometer once before, and with more specimen photos of similar species available online, I’ve decided this is probably Semaeopus callichroa, found in Jamaica and Cuba, and represented online only by a 90-year-old illustration.

One last photo is of this Aegisthus Swallowtail Moth that one of my participants spotted on a window at Marshall’s Pen. I’ve seen it once or twice in the past, but I’m still a bit uncertain what to call it. Almost all lists now use Sematura as the valid genus, but there is an undecided three-year-old case before the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature that admits that Mania has priority but should be dropped for the simple reason that Sematura has been used for so long. Further confusing the issue is name Nothus, which is even older than those two names and is still used by several authoritative-looking websites (such as the London Natural History Musem); but since it was used for a beetle first it is clearly invalid for a moth. But for now it’s looking like Mania aegisthus is the best name.

Amazing Crested Quail-Doves

I'm just back from leading my 17th WINGS birding tour of Jamaica. On my very first tour, which I co-led with Robert Sutton, we only heard Crested Quail-Dove, and Robert really tried his hardest to bring one in. I've not missed it since then, but the numbers and their song activity varies greatly from year to year, and one of these years I'm going to miss it again. There weren't many this year, but this individual bird has been reliable for the past two years, in the Blue Mountains below the town of Section.

We had actually already seen one on the Ecclesdown Road on our second day of birding, though not this well, but certainly countable views were had by all participants. Then the day after this one, our third Crested Quail-Dove flew in over our heads from behind us, unannounced, and landed in plain sight on a branch over the road in the direction we were looking.

Braulio Carrillo and La Paz Waterfall Gardens – Last Day in Costa Rica

Here are just a few photos from the last two days of my recent tour to Costa Rica. We spent our next-to-last morning at the verdant Braulio Carrillo National Park just in the foothills on the very wet Caribbean slope. I recall last year having to spend a full morning here under a constant rain last year. In quite a contrast, things were so dry this year that sensitive epiphytic ferns used to at least some precipitation on something like 350 days of the year were starting to furl up to prevent water loss. Five days in a row with no rain hear constitutes a severe drought.

Perhaps because of the sun, this Apella Skipper, Racta apella, was darting about, but landing only on the roof of the park staff building, too far for a good photo.

Also at the headquarters center was this male black-and-white jumping spider, Phiale formosa, with thanks to Dick Walton and GB Edwards for the ID. The female is apparently very different in appearance, probably mimicking a wasp.

We walked the one-mile loop trail twice, and each time was quite different. Perhaps the most outstanding differences were that the second time through we saw a Northern Tamandua (a small anteater) climbing up a tree, and a few yards down the trail heard a Black-crowned Antpitta, one of the most enigmatic birds of Costa Rica. This one was my lifer, even though we didn’t get to see it.

I stopped at some point to look at some bird movement in the trees, and when I looked down spotted this Eyelash Pit Viper – our third one and the least camouflaged – right next to the trail. In my 19 previous trips I had seen just three of these, two of which had been pointed out to me and my group, and the first of which I had almost sat on during my first tour in February of 1998.

Our last stop of the trip was the scenic La Paz Waterfall Gardens. It’s kind of like Costa Rica’s version of the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, complete with aviaries and mammal enclosures, but this place also has a hotel, a huge dining hall, and at least seven species of wild hummingbirds coming to the feeders.

This Black-bellied Hummingbird was our first of the tour.

This female Green Thorntail was the last new species added to our huge trip list.

The most abundant hummer at the feeders was Green-crowned Brilliant.

We also took a walk down to one of the many waterfalls, along the way seeing our third species of Platydesmid millipede on the tour. Maybe we should do a millipede tour of Costa Rica next time; the diversity must be quite high here.

I always enjoy starting and ending our tours at the relaxing Bougainvillea Hotel, far from noisy streets and neighborhoods and with it’s flower-filled gardens, but this is the first time I got to see it during the tour. I left out in my blogs this time that because of the eruption of Turrialba on March 12 I arrived in Costa Rica ¾ of the way through Day 2 instead of on the day before Day 1. The international airport closed for a day and a half, and 7000 tourists were stranded in Costa Rica for a day or more, probably even more were prevented from arriving, and full flights the weekend before spring break meant that one of my participants missed the first three days of the tour. It was on all our minds on the last day, but the volcano stayed quiet and allowed us to all leave on time.