If you ever doubt how inspiring birds are to people, just look at the incredible bird-related creativity writers, artists, and photographers pour forth into the world. I plead guilty to be among their ranks as birds have inspired at least half a dozen of my books and countless articles. Sometimes, though, birds themselves are not the topic. Instead, my pursuit of birds gives me another idea. Such is the case with my new picture book, Border Crossings.
During the past seven years, Braden and I have been fortunate to be able to bird along the U.S.-Mexico border at least four times: twice in Arizona, and once each in Texas and California. These trips have been among the most inspiring of our birding lives, not only providing glimpses of hundreds of remarkable birds, but introducing us to the rich human culture that spans the border region. When our former president announced plans to build a steel barrier the full length of our border, it rang alarm bells for numerous reasons. For one thing, it seemed a giant slap in the face to Mexico, a country we depend on and take advantage of in many ways. I also worried how a wall would impact the myriad animal species that regularly cross back and forth across the border.
San Bernardino NWR is one of many places we birded in 2016 that was wall-free. Now, a giant steel barrier both prevents many animals from moving freely through their natural home—it directly endangers several officially listed endangered fishes.To read about that click here.
Though we humans have drawn an artificial line separating the U.S. and Mexico, the fact is that continuous ecosystems run through this remarkably biodiverse region. In these ecosystems, animals routinely cross back and forth from one country to another. Many do this in the course of their daily routines while others cross mostly during annual migrations. The steel “bollard” wall, however, has gaps only four inches wide—small enough to exclude hundreds of animal species. Even some birds—think game birds, roadrunners, and Ferruginous Pygmy-owls—probably turn back from this monstrosity. That’s not to mention javelinas, pronghorn, tortoises, hares, wolves, and dozens of other larger animals. Clearly, in their rush to build a political statement, no one in charge gave wildlife the slightest thought.
One of many Arizona border communities that was wall-free during our 2016 trip is now permanently divided by an ugly barrier—one that is doing untold damage not only to these communities but to wildlife.
The wall.
Border Crossingsis my attempt to raise awareness of this important issue. To illustrate the dilemma, the story follows two ocelots. These beautiful wild cats live in both Texas and Arizona as well as Mexico, and I decided to show the plight of one that is free to cross the border without obstruction—and one that is blocked by the imposing steel barrier. I was fortunate that my publisher hired the talented Howard Gray to illustrate the book. His remarkable illustrations really bring the story to life and, I hope, make readers young and old think about the often catastrophic consequences of simple-minded solutions.
One problem I had writing the story is that wall construction proceeded at breakneck speed even as we were going through the editing process. On our last trip to Arizona, in fact, Braden and I were dismayed to see this ugly barrier stretch across several regions that had been beautifully wall-free during our previous trip in 2016. Rather than trying to rewrite the story, I explain the situation in the backmatter. Realistically, I don’t see the wall coming down anytime soon, but I hope Border Crossings will help create momentum to at least build numerous wildlife crossings through it. If you’d like to make a difference, share your concerns with your U.S. Senators and Congressmen. As great men have stated in the past, only if we stay silent can tyranny—and in this case, horrible ideas—triumph.
For humans, the border is just a problem to be solved, but for thousands of species, this region is home.(From Border Crossings, illustrated by Howard Gray.)
A tradition Braden and I have formed over the years is to make top birds lists after any big trip or, as this year, for our entire year of birding. This probably stems from the many hours I listened to Casey Kasem counting down the American Top 40 every weekend as a youth. Our own “Top 40” lists have diverged a bit since Braden is now on the East Coast for most of the year—but this year we still managed to have a lot of birding adventures together, and so have a lot of common birds on our list. It’s funny, though, how some birds we might have been super excited about when we first saw them often drift lower on the list. I suppose it’s like being super excited about Barry Manilow when you first heard him—and then realizing you could be listening to the likes of the Rolling Stones, Neil Young, and John Lee Hooker. Anyway, we thought you might enjoy our Top 10 birds of 2022—and hope you might share some of your own!
# 10
Coming in at Number 10 for Braden was the Florida Scrub-Jay, which is remarkably vulnerable in Florida, but Braden got to see with his birding buddy Nick Ramsey on their epic Spring Break Florida adventure. Read about it here. Sneed’s #10 was an unlikely Cape May Warbler—his Lifer—that he spotted in front of the house of his good friends Mollie and Craig Bloomsmith in Atlanta this fall.
Florida Scrub-Jays are the only bird species entirely restricted to Florida.
#9
Braden had excellent adventures with Northern Saw-whet Owls while out in California, running into some adorable juveniles while thrashing through the woods during his job with the Institute for Bird Populations. Elegant Trogon finished #9 on Sneed’s list—an exotic bird if there ever was one! And yet, both Braden and Sneed wondered why this bird didn’t finish higher on either of their lists. Probably just too much on the beaten birding path. (Photo at top of the blog.)
Non-stop birding for his job throughout the summer led Braden to a remarkable encounter with these juvenile Northern Saw-whet Owls.
Zone-tailed Hawks are well-known mimics of Turkey Vultures and often hang out with them—which is where we spotted this one at Madera Canyon, Arizona; only our second ZTHA ever.
#7
Ah, who doesn’t love a Swallow-tailed Kite—especially one that swoops right over your head? Braden obviously DOES, as yet another bird from his Florida trip snagged a Top Ten spot. Sneed, meanwhile, went with the shockingly beautiful Scott’s Oriole for Lucky Number 7. He and Braden both fell in love with these birds, and were lucky enough to see them several times on their Arizona adventures. In fact . . .
Braden never tired of seeing Swallow-tailed Kites on his and Nick’s epic Florida adventure.
#6
Scott’s Oriole grabbed Braden’s Number 6 while Sneed went with Sulphur-bellied Flycatcher, also in Arizona, in a case that he couldn’t quite explain. “There was just something mysterious and intriguing about that bird,” he was quoted as telling a New York Times reporter.
Though relatively widespread in the Southwest, Scott’s Oriole is a bird Braden and I wondered if we’d ever really get to see—or even if it really existed. It does!
#5
Unfortunately, the same New York Times reporter caught Sneed cheating for Number 5, as he listed THREE birds tied for #5: Mexican Whip-poor-will, Whiskered Screech-Owl, and Elf Owl. “How can you possibly justify this?” demanded the reporter. “Well, I only ever heard these three birds, but we listened to them on a magical night in Portal, walking down a darkened road. It’s just a night that Braden and I won’t ever forget.” Meanwhile Braden went with his many amazing experiences with Prairie Warblers this year for his #5 spot, seeing them throughout Florida, including the Everglades, in Maine, and during the Collard Family’s epic New York City trip in May.
It blew Braden’s mind to learn that Prairie Warblers breed in the mangroves of Florida.
#4
The night walk in Portal also left a big impression on Braden, giving him his Number 4 in the form of Mexican Whip-poor-will. Sneed, meanwhile, went with Red-faced Warbler, spotted just a few miles and a couple thousand feet away—the first, and still only, RFWA the father-son duo has ever seen.
Another fairly common Southwest bird that had eluded us until this trip, the Red-faced Warbler immediately captured our hearts. This is still the only we have ever seen.
#3
Number 3 is getting into some Serious Birds, and Braden selected Spotted Owl for his. Not only did Sneed and Braden both see them for the first time in the Chiricahuas, Braden got to see the California subspecies several times during his summer job. Sneed went with his recently self-found Long-tailed Duck—the first male he had ever seen—and one he discovered pretty much in his backyard near Missoula.
When you find a bird by yourself, it naturally ranks higher in a Year List. Such was the case with this male Long-tailed Duck Sneed found near Frenchtown last fall.
#2
Braden paid for his Number 2 bird, Long-tailed Jaeger (a second cousin to former lead singer for the Rolling Stones) with repeated upchucking over the side of the boat during his summer pelagic boat trip out of Half Moon Bay. After cavorting with a bunch of Sabine’s Gulls, however, this bird took flight and then passed only ten feet above Braden’s head. He celebrated by once again barfing into the sea. Sneed opted for White-tailed Ptarmigan, just one of the coolest birds on the planet, seen during his and Braden’s stunning hike up to Piegan Pass in Glacier National Park in August.
Blurry photo notwithstanding (or puking as was the case), this Long-tailed Jaeger flew into Braden’s #2 spot for the year.
Drum Roll . . . And their Number 1s are . . .
#1
The adventure and thrill of seeking out and finally finding a LeConte’s Thrasher on the east side of the Sierras stayed with Braden strongly enough to make it his Number 1 Bird of 2022! Remarkably, Spotted Owl, which had been only #4 on Sneed’s Arizona Trip list mounted an epic comeback to grab his Number 1 spot!
Braden’s #1 for 2022: LeConte’s Thrasher!Sneed’s #1 for 2022: Spotted Owl
Thanks for tuning in as we’ve relived our top birds. Be sure to click on the links to get the full accounts, and may 2023 generate a memorable list for you, too!
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 experiencein August, I had arrived back on the University of Maine’s campus with low expectations—500 birds for the yearwas 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?
Tennessee Warbler, Cornfield LoopCape May Warbler, Cornfield Loop
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!
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.
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 400th 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 first adult male Costa’s Hummingbird!Five-striped Sparrow—#399 for Braden’s Big Year!
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?
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!
