Category Archives: Arizona

Braden’s 2022 Recap: Scrambling to 500

Well, another great year of birding has passed for Braden and me—and we hope for you, too. Both of us had remarkable experiences the likes of which we’d never had before, and in the process once again broke our previous Big Year records—I, accidentally, and Braden with determination and grit. As you enjoy Braden’s year-end recap, we want to tell you how much we appreciate your interest in our adventures over the years. In 2022 we smashed viewership for our blog with more than 7,000 views for the first time, bringing our total to more than 21,000 views since we first began writing this blog (gasp) five years ago. We have never had any goals with the blog except to share our love of birding, provide some education about birds, and encourage a will to protect them. With that in mind, we don’t know how long we’ll continue writing it, but as long as you all keep checking in, chances are good that we’ll stay with it, too. Happy 2023 and may birds continue to grace your lives!

Roaring winds, carrying hordes of gulls and Northern Gannets with them, ripped past Schoodic Point as I stood on the wave-battered rocks. The sky was beginning to brighten, and a few other people had made an appearance, including a guy in the parking lot with a spotting scope who I’m pretty sure was counting migrating sea ducks. I had no particular need to talk to him. Instead I was content to stare at the sea, reflecting on one of the most memorable weekends I’d had in a long time.

**One of the fun things about returning to Maine for fall semester was hitting the Cornfield Loop and seeing tons of fall warblers, including this Palm Warbler.** **(See also warbler photos below.)**

I was several hours away from the end of my EES 217 class, a one-credit course completely confined to the past two and a half days. During this time, I and a group of like-minded students had designed projects relating to the ecology of the Schoodic Peninsula, a part of Acadia National Park. My group was chosen to study the impact that humans were having on Acadia’s saltmarshes, and we tackled this issue by wading out into the marshes around the peninsula and collecting data on trash, invasive species (specifically a tall grass called Phragmites) and erosion. Yesterday we had arrived back at the Schoodic Institute, our home for the weekend, to begin analyzing our data, and later today we would be presenting our project to the public, all under the guidance of the head of the University of Maine Ecology and Environmental Sciences Department, Katharine Ruskin.

**The first Rusty Blackbird I’d seen in six years, also on the Cornfield Loop, was a key ingredient to hitting my Big Year goal.**

The fact that I’d been doing science all weekend wasn’t the only great thing about this class. The food was great— welcome relief from dining hall food—and the people were amazing. It was the first time I had been surrounded by like-minded people in a long time, people who cared deeply about conservation and the environment. No one knew each other whatsoever on the Friday that we left, but by Sunday night I felt like I had made some really great friends. I talked to everyone I possibly could during the brief breaks we had to be social, including on Saturday night, when we all grouped together to do icebreakers for a few hours, and Sunday morning, when we all walked out to see the sunrise at Schoodic Point. It truly was an incredible experience.

**I was especially proud to pick out this juvenile Iceland Gull from a flock of Herring Gulls at the UMaine campus this fall.**

Now, as I stood on the rocky cliffs above the Atlantic (half an hour after everyone else had gone back to eat breakfast), I spotted a tiny gull fly by—one with a yellow bill and tiny black wingtips.

“Kittiwake!” I yelled, to no one in particular.

Black-legged Kittiwake was not a bird I had been expecting to see on this trip, or this year for that matter, and had the distinction of being my 498th bird species for the year.

After my dad’s and my amazing shorebirding and ptarmigan experience in August, I had arrived back on the University of Maine’s campus with low expectations—500 birds for the year was within reach, but unlikely since I had only 484 species and didn’t know where 16 more could possibly come from. I took advantage of my campus’s great location during the month of September, however, circling the campus’s Cornfield Loop as often as possible to look for warblers as they migrated south from their breeding grounds in the boreal forest. During that month, I added six species of warblers to my year list: Blackburnian, Bay-breasted, Canada, Cape May, Blackpoll and Tennessee. I also saw the first Rusty Blackbirds and Scarlet Tanagers that I’d seen in six years. Suddenly, my year list passed 490. A trip to St. John, New Brunswick with my girlfriend added White-rumped Sandpiper to my ABA list, and in late October, my friend Wesley Hutchens volunteered to drive me to Lake Sebasticook to see two long-staying Hudsonian Godwits, which I got to watch through fellow Montana birder Ed Harper’s spotting scope. And then, on November 6th, I saw those Black-legged Kittiwakes, cruising by Schoodic Point, and was suddenly two birds away from 500 with two months left.

**During a long weekend in New Brunswick, Canada, I encountered the largest flock of White-rumped Sandpipers I’d ever seen.**

I was not to be deceived by that seemingly long amount of time remaining, however. There just weren’t that many possibilities left, and the birds were leaving. American Golden-Plovers were making brief appearances around the state, but my chances of finding one were slim. Rare wintering birds like Glaucous Gulls and King Eiders also were things I needed on my year list, but again, there was no easy way to find them. Besides, my class load had picked up significantly, and the time I had allotted for birding diminished with every day.

**Thanks to Ed Harper and his spotting scope, I picked up my Lifer Hudsonian Godwits in late October at Sebasticook Lake, about an hour away from Orono.**

And yet, in mid-November, a local birder reported a Snow Goose from a farmer’s field in Bangor, Maine. The next day, people went to see it, and apparently the identification had changed to Ross’s Goose. Wesley Hutchens went that morning, and reported back to me as I was getting out of my Honors Lecture: it wasn’t a Snow Goose or a Ross’s Goose. It was both. And I needed both for the year, which was ironic given that had I been in Montana, I likely would have picked them up months earlier. I couldn’t resist, but I also couldn’t get there. I didn’t have a car.

Wes solved that problem. “Dude, you’re going to get these geese. I might be late to class, but we gotta get you these geese.”

Needless to say, Wesley Hutchens had been responsible for a large chunk of the birds I’d seen this fall, and I’m very grateful to him for that. We drove the fifteen minutes from campus, pulling over near an abandoned church across the road from a large field, and there they were. Two differently-sized white geese, standing right next to each other. It was almost too easy. And yet, maybe it was a reward for all of the time I’d put into getting the other 498 birds I’d seen in 2022. I’d seen a lot of birds in 2022.

**Who would have thought my 499th (Ross’s Goose) and 500th (Snow Goose) birds of the year would be standing right next to each other—and only a few miles down the road?**

Before leaving Montana in January, my dad and I had racked up nearly 70 species just birding around Montana, including uncommon winter species like Great Gray and Short-eared owls, Lapland Longspur, Pine Grosbeak and Canada Jay. February had been a rough month for birding, but March brought the trip from New Orleans to Key West with Nick Ramsey, giving me lifers in the form of Prairie Warblers singing from mangroves and Swallow-tailed Kites circling over the Pineywoods. That trip got me over 200 for the year. April was when a few migrants showed back up in Maine, followed by a stellar few days of May birding in New York City with my dad. I arrived back home to Missoula later that month, just in time for the migrants to hit Western Montana, which allowed me to see 100 species in a day just birding around my hometown.

Then, it was off to Southeastern Arizona, a region that was already wilting under ninety-degree temperatures during the middle of the day. Thoughts of Spotted Owls and Scott’s Orioles accompanied us as we crossed the border into southern California, then up the coast, across the Central Valley into the Sierras, where the town of Twain Harte became my home base for three months. It was there that I’d met Sam Darmstadt, Miles Carlile and Ivara Goulden, amazing people with whom I shared amazing experiences throughout the summer. We camped in the hottest desert in the world, we climbed one of California’s tallest peaks, we set off into the formidable Pacific Ocean in search of lifers. If you want to know what wildlife we saw during these adventures, well, there are posts about each and every one of them!

**Despite all of the great adventures I’ve had this year, I never tire of being home and enjoying Montana’s birds, including the Bohemian Waxwings flying around our neighborhood.**

And now, flash-forward to now, December 26th, 2022. I’m back home in Missoula for a few more weeks, then I head back to Maine to kick-off another year. My goals? I don’t have any numbers in mind, but I would like to see a Northern Pygmy-Owl while I’m still out west. Learning the Eastern wood-warblers by song would also be awesome, should I get a summer job in New England somewhere.

But what about the birds of 2022? What were my dad and I’s top ten, or top twenty? You’ll just have to stay tuned!

Arizona 2022, Part 4: To Patagonia Lake, Madera Canyon and Beyond!

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This is the last installment of our four-part Arizona adventure. We’ve had a great response to these posts and want to thank you for all of your enthusiasm! Keep birding and supporting birds however you can, and we will share more adventures soon!

We departed our Nogales hotel the next morning to find a gorgeous Vermillion Flycatcher sitting on a bench outside the front door. It boded well for the day as we headed to our first destination, Patagonia Lake State Park, a place featured in the movie The Big Year, though undoubtedly not filmed there. Patagonia indeed upheld its reputation as a great birding spot, and we checked off two more Life Birds—Northern Beardless Tyrannulet and Bell’s Vireo. We also saw Summer Tanagers and got our best experience ever watching Phainopeplas, which sport the ultimate in cool with their silky black suits and blazing red eyes. Alas, we missed Braden’s top target, Varied Bunting—but picked it up at a small rest area just up the road!

**Although we missed Varied Buntings at Patagonia Lake, we got good looks at them at several more sites, including this one at Madera Canyon.**

Our Patagonia Lake checklist!

**We had seen Phainopeplas before, but got to spend about fifteen minutes watching them flycatch at Patagonia State Park—an experience that made us even more impressed with them!**

We had debated what to do with the rest of the day and had considered going for Whiskered Screech Owl in the rugged mountains west of Nogales, but with serious heat and the prospect of rough mountain roads to negotiate, we decided for the more comfortable alternative of Madera Canyon, a place we had both adored on our Big Year visit in 2016. We felt grateful for our decision after we staked out a campsite and availed ourselves of the marvelous bird feeders at Santa Rita Lodge. There we picked up Rivoli’s Hummingbird and Arizona Woodpecker for Braden’s Big Year list, and had much better looks at Varied Buntings, Hepatic Tanagers, and more.

**We feared we had missed Arizona Woodpecker for the trip, but Madera Canyon delivered. We just love the unique, brown motif of this Arizona specialty.**

As we were watching a group of Turkey Vultures, I suddenly saw one make a quick move that didn’t look right. “Braden, look at that!” We both got eyes on it and Braden shouted, “Zone-tailed Hawk!” We had seen one before, but had no idea of their close association with Turkey Vultures. In fact, it looked so much like a Turkey Vulture that it left no doubt that some kind of mimicry or convergent evolution had shaped it. Some speculate that potential prey (birds, reptiles, mammals) feel safe with Turkey Vultures overhead—giving a sneaky Zone-tailed a chance for a surprise attack!

**The “Turkey Vulture Hawk”, Zone-tailed Hawk, looks so much like a Turkey Vulture, we only ID’ed it after several double-takes.**

That afternoon we also enjoyed the company of multiple Mexican Jays and Painted Redstarts at our campsite and, later, heard the calls from the same trio of night birds we had enjoyed two nights before in Portal—along with our year’s first Common Poorwills! Oh, and did I mention Braden’s ears also scanned in the calls of Sulphur-bellied Flycatchers and Elegant Trogons? “Again,” Forrest Gump might groan.

**This curious Mexican Jay kept us company as Braden and I read aloud to each other at our campsite during the peak of the afternoon heat.**

The next morning, before aiming toward California, we had one more task. After rolling up camp, Braden guided us to a place called Montosa Canyon in the same range as Madera. Why? To find a recently-sighted, highly-coveted Five-striped Sparrow. I really didn’t know what our chances might be, but it took about thirty seconds for Braden to locate it, a handsome bird similar to Black-throated Sparrow. As an added bonus, Braden said, “Daddy, look over there.” I focused on a hummingbird and immediately recognized a species I’d read about countless times—a male Costa’s Hummingbird! The Costa’s was superb and we did a little dance, thinking it was Braden’s 400^th bird for his Big Year—the goal he had set for himself in January! We later learned, however, that we had inadvertently seen a juvenile Costa’s at Madera the day before, so 400 would have to wait for California Scrub-jay later that afternoon.

Our Montosa Canyon checklist!

Our first adult male Costa’s Hummingbird!

Many more birding adventures would unfold in the coming days as we made our way to San Diego to visit our cousin Laura, and then drove up to the Sierras to deliver Braden to his job monitoring Northern Goshawks for the summer. Sadly, from there I would continue home alone, hitting Modoc National Wildlife Refuge in Alturas and spending a fun three days with my friend and college roommate—not to mention avid reader of FatherSonBirding—yes, you guessed it, Roger Kohn. Roger showed me some of his favorite hotspots around his new home of Bend—and spotted a bird I especially wanted to see, White-headed Woodpecker. He also showed me the delights of Bend’s many brew pubs, but that, unfortunately, concludes this tale. Stay tuned for many more adventures including my recent fabulous birding in Billings and beyond, and Braden’s report(s) from the High Sierras. Who knows, I might even do some more truck birding this summer! Also stay tuned for more progress on Braden’s Big Year. After he hit 400 on our trip, I pushed him to reluctantly lift his target to 450—but between you and me, I think 500 has a much nicer sound to it. Will he go for it? I think he just might!

Braden’s Big Year total when I dropped him off near Sonora, California: 411 (New Goal: 450)

**On my way home to Montana, my good friend Roger Kohn and I went in search of—and found—a White-headed Woodpecker. Don’t you love this critter?**

Arizona 2022, Part 3: Trogons & Border Walls

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After our almost magical previous day, Braden and I debated spending a second day and night in Portal. However, Braden had to be at his job in the Sierras in only five days, and we were already dropping some desirable hotspots from our visit list, so we “bit the birdseed” and packed up camp. Before we left the Chiricahuas, though, we had a major mission: to see one of America’s most sought-after birds, the Elegant Trogon. To be honest, I had seen trogons—including the famed Resplendent Quetzal—in Costa Rica, and Braden and I had both seen trogons again in Ecuador, although not the Elegant. The idea that this very exotic-looking bird actually bred in the U.S., however, made the quest almost irresistible. Fortunately, the trogon hangouts along Cave Creek are pretty well-known as at least two or three pairs breed there. We drove slowly without hearing any and then parked at a trailhead to continue our search on foot.

**Scott’s Oriole was high on our “to see” list before the trip, and it was gratifying to see them several times on our trip!**

Almost immediately, we scored a great look at a brilliant male Scott’s Oriole, and not long afterward, our first good looks at Sulphur-bellied Flycatcher, a bird that immediately shot to the top of my favorite flycatcher list for its unique, bold looks and elusive behavior. We’d gone about half a mile, playing leapfrog with other trogon-hunters, when we heard a distinctive barking call behind us. “That’s it!” Braden exclaimed and I chased him back down the trail to find that the bird was easier to hear than see. I was creeping through some brush when Braden motioned vigorously. “Daddy, look up!” I did—to find myself staring at an orange-and-white butt. I quickly crept out to where Braden stood and, sure enough, there perched the trogon in full glory. The bird sat in a way not conducive to great photos, but we were nonetheless thrilled, and Braden went to retrieve the other trogon-hunters, who “oohed” and “ahed” appropriately.

**Well, this photo won’t win me a Pulitzer, but you can tell why this is the bird that comes up most often in Arizona birder conversation!**

After a quick stop at one of the town’s feeder stations, we left Portal via New Mexico and headed toward our next Arizona destination, paralleling the border. Seeing the border again after six years proved a shock. When we had visited in 2016, the border remained “wall-free”. We had observed low vehicle barriers and perhaps some barbed wire, but little that would impede wildlife. This time it was a much different story as an ugly steel barrier stretched from horizon to horizon, an all but impenetrable obstacle erected with little or no thought to the many animals that migrate back and forth through the desert. That, of course, is not to mention the human toll of the wall and the dishonest politics of blame and xenophobia that led to its creation.

The newly-erected border wall not only prevents normal movements of myriad animal species—with potentially devastating impacts—it divides historically connected communities and fuels horrible relations with a country we benefit greatly from.

Pushing on, we stopped for lunch in Sierra Vista, by-passing world-famous Ramsey Canyon (sorry, Nick!), and proceeded to a destination highlighted in the movie The Big Year: Patagonia. By now, our first real Arizona heat had begun to set in, but we stopped twice, first at the Arizona Birding Tours feeders and then at the wonderful oasis of Tucson Audubon’s Paton Center for Hummingbirds. And yes, we did see hummingbirds! Violet-crowned and Broad-billed were the stars, but Anna’s and Black-chinned also availed themselves of our attention.

**We generally had poor luck capturing the glorious colors of our new Lifer hummingbirds, but at least this Violet-crowned posed nicely for us at Patagonia’s Paton Center for Hummingbirds.**

Both locations also proved a magnet for other Arizona staples including Gila and Ladder-backed Woodpeckers; Blue Grosbeaks; Bewick’s Wrens; Hooded Orioles; and most surprising, Yellow-breasted Chat. However, by late mid-afternoon, the effects of four days of non-stop travel and birding were starting to tell on us, and we decided to take the night off at an air-conditioned hotel in nearby Nogales. We needed the rest, and we also had to make an important decision—how to spend our last full day in Arizona!

Braden’s Big Year Count at the end of the day: 386! (Beginning of year goal: 400)

**One thing we learned on this trip is that Gila Woodpeckers do not always sit posed on top of a perfect saguaro cactus!**

Arizona 2022, Part 2: Portal Dreaming

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In this post, we continue our account of our return to southern Arizona while on a quest to get Braden to his Big Year goal of 400 bird species. To read the first part of our journey, click here. As always, we appreciate you sharing this post, and if you haven’t already done so, subscribing by filling out the box below and to the right. Enjoy!

After our close encounter with bedbugs, we set off from Safford early the next morning and were pulling into our trip’s first Major Destination by 8:45 a.m. When we had contemplated visiting Portal, Arizona during our 2016 Big Year, we had considered it as “a place to see hummingbirds.” Six years later, we still wanted hummingbirds, but harbored a long list of other targets—including a slew of Lifers and Year Birds that would propel Braden closer to his Big Year goal of 400 species. Driving into town, we blundered into our first. I had pulled over so Braden could get a look at some Phainopeplas (see next post) when I noticed a large-ish bird over in a sage plant. Getting my eyes on it, I saw right away that it was some kind of kingbird—and that it had an extraordinarily large bill! Turns out it was a Thick-billed Kingbird that had been reported around town recently! This Code 2 rarity created great momentum for the day—one that would not diminish until we were snug in our sleeping bags 12 hours later.

**Thanks to Braden’s patient mentoring, I have grown a much greater appreciation for flycatchers, including this Lifer, a Dusky-capped.**

But back to those hummingbirds, it’s true that Portal does have hummingbirds thanks to the many kind people who put up bird feeders, but of equal avian importance is that the town sits at the mouth of a canyon of the Chiricahua Mountains. One of Arizona’s famed “sky island” mountain ranges, the Chiricahuas attract a host of birds from Mexico that are uncommon in the US, from Mexican Chickadees and Yellow-eyed Juncos to Sulphur-bellied Flycatchers and everyone’s Number One target, Elegant Trogons. After grabbing a campsite at Sunny Flat campground, Braden and I set up our tents and, as the day was already warming, decided to drive to high altitudes for our first proper birding session. We had a couple of specific destinations in mind, but as we wound our way slowly up the dirt road, we decided to pull over at a small stream crossing—and are so glad we did! Almost immediately, one of our favorite birds—Painted Redstart—perched over our heads. This was followed by a veritable bird parade that included Hepatic & Western Tanagers, Hutton’s Vireos, Bridled Titmice, Grace’s Warblers, and Dusky-capped and Cordilleran Flycatchers—all birds we had especially wanted to see or hear!

**Painted Redstart was our Bird of the Trip during our first visit to Arizona in 2016. Seeing it again, we agreed it had been an excellent choice!**

After a few more miles, we reached a loose collection of canyon campsites strung out along the road. The canyon held a wonderful mix of conifers and oaks, and in five minutes, we saw two Life Birds: Yellow-eyed Junco and Red-faced Warbler. The Red-faced Warbler is one of those birds that you learn about, but don’t really believe exists until you see it perched in front of you. Not to be out-done, the junco put on a great show for us, often collecting nesting materials at our feet as we burned gigabytes of camera storage photographing it! One bird we searched for and didn’t find was Mexican variety Spotted Owl. “That’s okay,” I reasoned. “I never really expected to see one of those in my lifetime, anyway.”

It was such a beautiful spot that we decided to have a picnic lunch there before moving back to higher elevation, but before we did, we took one last look around for an owl. Braden was trying to photograph a couple of Verdin when I turned and glanced up in a tree—only to be greeted by the unmistakable silhouette of an owl. Braden was saying, “I guess we’re not going to find the owl,” when I casually remarked, “Except that I just found it.” He thought I was kidding, but I pointed up into the tree, and we both fell into a silent reverie that lasted a full fifteen minutes.

**Like so many birds Braden and I have encountered together, this Spotted Owl is one I thought I’d never see.**

If we’d seen nothing else on the trip, that owl would have made the entire journey worthwhile. Nonetheless, we bid it adieu and headed up to a place called Rustler Park. Here, thanks to Braden’s hard work and determination, we found two more Lifers: Mexican Chickadee and Olive Warbler—the bird that isn’t really a warbler, but inhabits its own strange group of birds. Remarkably, our day still had a long way to run.

**If it looks like a warbler, and acts like a warbler . . . well, sometimes it isn’t. This Olive Warbler belongs to its own family of birds, the Peucedramidae.**

Back in Portal, we scoured the bird feeders, and even hung our own feeder in our campsite, netting yet more Lifers: Scott’s Oriole, a bird at the top of my “to see” list, and Blue-throated Mountain Gem, a gorgeous hummer that came right to our camp feeder! As the shadows deepened over Cave Creek Canyon, however, we had one more very special treat in store for us. Grabbing our flashlights, we set off in darkness down Cave Creek Road, listening intently for a trio of nighttime denizens. We heard the haunting call of the Mexican Whip-poor-will, followed quickly by Whiskered Screech Owl, and finally the “bark” of Elf Owls! Standing together, listening to these magical sounds truly was one of our most memorable birding experiences ever and one that we will both cherish as long as we draw breath. The same can be said for the entire day.

Even better, two full days of Arizona birding remained. Would they include, say, an Elegant Trogon? Stay tuned . . .

**I couldn’t write about Portal without including at least one hummer, even though this Blue-throated Mountain Gem declined to give us a full “sun shot”.**

Arizona 2022, Part 1: Braden’s Big Year or Bust

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It’s been a while since we posted, and that’s no accident. When Braden landed a field job monitoring Northern Goshawks in California’s Sierras for the summer, I impulsively offered to drive him there—via Arizona and Southern California. We had wanted to return to Arizona since falling in love with the state during our Big Year in 2016. The fact that Braden was out to smash his own Big Year record with a goal of 400 species made the argument even stronger, especially after he and Nick Ramsey had ransacked the state of Florida only weeks before, followed by our amazing time birding New York City. So on May 22, rashly ignoring the price of gasoline, Braden and I made a beeline down Interstate 15, pulling over to pick up Thick-billed Longspurs near Dillon, Sage Thrashers and Rock Wrens in southern Idaho, and Burrowing Owls and phalaropes at Antelope Island near Salt Lake City. After a short, peaceful night in Kanab and a stop to ogle the rapidly disappearing Lake Powell, we rolled into Phoenix for our first major Arizona stop of the trip: Prospector Park, east of Phoenix.

**We found Rock Wrens at a delightful I-15 rest area of lava called Hell’s Half Acre in southern Idaho. Don’t pass it up!**

As usual, Braden ferreted out our hotspots for the trip and Prospector Park blew away all expectations. An unlikely-looking suburban park with playing fields and lots of lawn, we tumbled out of the car and began racking up Life Birds before we could utter “Holy Bird, Batman!” As soon as he raised his binoculars to his eyes, Braden called out “Abert’s Towhee!” Five minutes later, “Gilded Flicker”—the last ABA woodpecker I needed for my Life List. This was not to mention the gobs of Year Birds Braden needed to advance toward his magic 400 number. In fact, one of the great things about Arizona is that for Montanans, almost every bird we see is likely to be a Year Bird. Verdin, Ladder-backed and Gila Woodpeckers, Vermillion Flycatcher, Lucy’s Warbler, Gambel’s Quail, Curved-billed Thrasher—and another Lifer, Bendire’s Thrasher. For a birder, Arizona truly is a pot ‘o gold.

**Gilded Flicker was a species I had needed for several years to complete my ABA woodpecker list. Okay, I admit it—not the most exciting critter, but we both enjoyed seeing it nonetheless.**

Not for the first time, one of our most fun finds turned out not to be a native species, but an exotic. We were completing our circuit around the park when we noticed a group of (I think) Mennonite birders staring at something in the grass. We couldn’t tell what they were until green shapes flew over to another patch of grass. “Rosy-faced Lovebirds!” Braden called with delight. It was a species he had especially hoped to see—and another Lifer for both of us. We spent a satisfying fifteen minutes just watching these little guys as they gathered grass seed heads—presumably to eat, but perhaps also for nesting material.

Introduced parrots such as these Rosy-faced Lovebirds always stir conflicting emotions in Braden and me. I mean, they *definitely* don’t belong here, but dang it, why do they have to be so darned cute?

But we had miles to go before we slept, so we reluctantly climbed back in the car for that night’s destination, Safford, where we checked into a cheap motel—only to find bed bugs hiding under the mattress. After quickly getting a refund, we headed to a pricier, bed-bug free place down the street (and yes, we checked the mattresses there, too!) for a welcome, but short night’s sleep. Our two-day, 1270-mile drive had already netted us five Life Birds and raised Braden’s Big Year total from 322 to 345 species—and we hadn’t even reached our first real destination. Would we be able to get Braden to 400? Things were looking good, but in birding as in life, nothing is certain . . .

Our Prospector Park List