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SCHOLARSHIP REPORTS 2006

2006 VENT Camp Chiricahua

6-17 July 2006

By Lauren Tompkins

It must have been strange for non-birders to see fifteen hyper youths patrolling the hotel's parking lot and enclosed lawn for birds at 5:00 in the morning, hands always on their binoculars. A call of "Hooded Oriole!" set us running; the same was true for Cactus Wren, Gila Woodpecker, Verdin, and Abert's Towhee. I met most of my companions in the parking lot on the first day – but our leaders, Victor Emanuel and Barry Lyon, and our counselors, Jessie Barry and Moez Ali, were wise enough watch our antics from inside the hotel: they knew that they'd get more than enough Arizona birding in the next 12 days.

We got a chance to do our first real Arizona birding that evening. Scrambling into two vans we went to Madera Canyon, where we tried (and failed) to find a Flame-colored Tanager, a Mexican rarity that had been hanging around for days. We were so excited by the new Arizona birds that we didn't mind missing the Tanager. Here, in the sycamores and junipers, and at the bird feeders, were Scott's Orioles and Arizona Woodpeckers, and a nesting pair of Sulfer-bellied Flycatchers; there, were Painted Redstart, Black-headed Grosbeaks, and fledgling Cooper's Hawks bouncing from branch to branch in the sycamores, regarding the assembled group below.

Walking up and down the paved road, we scanned the treetops and listened hard, but were unable to hear anything like a Flame-colored Tanager. We put up a good-natured protest when Victor and Barry told us it was time to head back to the hotel – and drug our feet on the way back to van, determined to wring out every life bird of the day that we could. On the way back, our leaders parked off the side of the road, and we got out of the vans to overlook the dry plains scattered with creosote bush and mesquite. Jessie Barry played the song of a Botteri's Sparrow on her iPod: like magic, it lured in the drab skulker to within 5 yards of us. It was the only one we would see on the entire trip.

The next morning, we loaded our luggage into two large vans – we were leaving Tucson for a trip to the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum. We stopped on the way to see Black-throated Sparrows and Verdin darting between ocotillo. It wasn't even 8:00 am and it was already very warm out.

Upon reaching the Desert Museum, we all split into groups (each group defined by a person who had a watch) with orders from our leaders to meet back where we began. Wandering from exhibit to exhibit, we enjoyed great views of birds inside and outside of the museum's aviaries. It was here we saw many of the reptiles, amphibians, and mammals that we were to encounter in the wild in the next 11 days. Too soon it was once more time to leave, and we returned to the front of the Desert Museum in time to see a Black-tailed Gnatcatcher feeding a cowbird chick.

We left the Museum for Sunny Flat Campground, where we were supposed to camp for several days. But on the way there, we encountered our first monsoon, one that turned the ground to mud and looked capable of soaking through clothing a matter of seconds. It would have been too much trouble to try and camp in the rain, so we stopped at the Cave Creek Ranch for the night – where we could sleep with a roof over our heads. While our leaders prepared dinner, the rest of us dashed out into the drizzle to look at Cassin's Kingbirds, Tufted Titmouse, Arizona Woodpeckers, and Magnificent Hummingbirds, determined to spend every spare second birding.

The next morning, birds beckoned once more, and the area around the Cave Creek Ranch was scoured even before breakfast (some of us didn't know we would be birding here during the day, too). The aptly-named Juniper Titmouse foraged in the alligator juniper, Gambel's Quail scrambled across the dusty road, Blue Grosbeaks sang from the tops of mesquite, and we kept finding Cactus Wren nests in cacti and mesquite.

The next few days were spent in the Portal Area where we were led by renowned naturalist and expert birder Dave Jasper. We searched the shady and cool South Fork Trail for Elegant Trogons and picked up Grace's Warblers and Mexican Chickadees on the way. Dave led us around the area to see some of the specialty birds, and was always willing to pass on his knowledge and tricks of the trade because, he said, he liked to see kids show up know-it-all adults.

Before we began our walk on the South Fork, we were told that there wouldn't be rain for three days; an exciting prospect to those who weren't eager to use their rain gear. We spent a long time on the trail, eagerly scanning the trees for brightly-colored trogons, and hopefully scanning the ground for rattlesnakes (I say hopefully because seeing a rattlesnake was almost as good as seeing a life bird. We finally did see a Black-tailed Rattlesnake – and yes, it did shock the heck out of some of us at first). By the time we were nearly 1 ½ miles out along the trail, with no sight of trogons, someone commented that they felt a raindrop. Impossible, others retorted. Then rain started falling all around, making the dry leaves jump. We hurried back to vans, increasing our pace when the rain turned to hail and the paths, that had been so dry ten minutes ago, turned into streams. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning lit up the sky. Once we were all entirely wet, we could find the humor in the situation: we could laugh at how ridiculous our new friends looked. And of course the monsoon halted as soon as we reached the dry safety of the vans.

After changing into dry clothes, we headed to Rodeo, New Mexico. Stopping along the side of the road, we managed to see a Bendire's Thrasher, a perfect view as the bird perched atop a telephone pole. In the evening we birded Granite Gap, looking for Gila Monsters, lizards, and always most importantly, birds. The habitat in the desert was amazing – we had been told so by birders even before we left on the trip – but every hour we spent in it amazed us more. While it was entirely possible to hate the prickly, sharp cactus and scratchy mesquite by day, it was to marvel at by night, especially when accompanied by brilliant sun. How Alex Hickey (hero of the hour!) spotted what looked like a dirt clod from a van that must have been going well over 30mph was a mystery, but we got out, set up our scopes, and marveled at the miniature bird. However small the Burrowing Owl seemed to us, in the following days we would see even smaller. On one trip we saw a rarity for Arizona, a White-tailed Kite, also miraculously spotted from the van by camp counselor Moez Ali.

Dave Jasper showed us a remarkable variety of owls fairly close to downtown Portal including the smallest in the world, Elf Owl, feeding chicks inside a stump close to a post office, as well as Western and Whiskered Screech-Owls, each within fifty feet of the other.

On the sixth day of camp we explored the Chiricahua Mountains even further. Dave Jasper took us on another attempt to see Elegant Trogons, by what he knew was a nest site, a hole in a tall stump, close to a creek. We sat down on the creek's bank and waited hopefully for the chick's parents to appear. We waited 15, 20, 45 minutes, with no luck, and no birds otherwise. Our boredom became obvious when we started throwing pine cones at each other, and our leaders decided we should move on. Hiking father up the trail, we encountered the "Apache" Northern Goshawk with fledglings. The "Apache" Northern Goshawk was identical to the ones we had normally seen, except for its dark black back. We had nearly given up hope of ever getting a good look at an Elegant Trogon, when we stopped to talk with Dave Utterback at his cabin. Utterback spent a great deal of time drawing the trogons – in fact, he believed that he had befriended the male trogon. Miraculously, a male showed up within ten feet of us. None of us wanted to leave, even as the trogon proceeded to follow us back to the vans.

We set up camp at Rustler Park, and the next day hiked the Barfoot Trail to Buena Vista peak. It was a 1 ¼ mile hike, but it was well broken up by . . . Olive Warblers! They foraged high in the pines above our heads. Closer to the top of Buena Vista, Moez triumphed again, seeing another Arizona speciality, a Short-tailed Hawk, which proceeded to fly directly over our heads. As we ascended the trail, we were awarded views of a unique, Arizona butterfly – the Chiricahua White – as well as the much-anticipated Red-faced Warbler. When reaching the bottom, we discovered that the campground was alive with Yellow-eyed Juncos, Spotted Towhees, and Steller's Jays. In the afternoon we went back to the South Fork Trail – this time we skipped the rainstorm and saw adult Mexican Spotted Owls and two chicks. Dave Jasper valiantly tried to find a Flammulated Owl for us – and when after more than an hour of searching we still hadn't turned one up, he said: "Okay, boys, girls, I want you to all stand here, hold hands, and sing ‘Kumbaya'."

There was one large mammal at Rustler that some of us didn't see: Bear. At dusk we were careful to put all our snacks and food into the metal lock-boxes by the campfire, and awoke the following morning to find that there had been a large bite taken out of our bar of soap!

After a mere two days camping at Rustler, we left bright and early for the San Pedro River Inn. The rallying cry of not only the campers but the leaders as well? "Showers!" After taking our respective showers in our respective cabins, we were refreshed enough to start birding once more, seeing Vermilion Flycatchers, Gilded Flickers, nesting Tropical Kingbirds, Green Heron, Gilded Flicker, and a Barn Owl that roosted in a tree outside the main cabin.

The next morning we searched for Black-capped Gnatcatchers at Patagonia Lake. We eventually found one, after much searching and a scramble up a rocky cliff. It was a life bird for most of us, including Jessie, and a North American one for Victor (prompting him to shout "Yes!" and raising his hands above his head, but, all in all, this was much less energetic than the rest of our ‘life bird' dances). Soon we were at the Patagonia Rest Stop, quickly locating a Thick-billed Kingbird and searching for a Rose-throated Becard. We never saw the Becard, but like the Flame-colored Tanager, not seeing it didn't feel like a great loss – so many life birds does that to a person.

Time passed quickly, and soon we were leaving the San Pedro River Inn and heading back to Tucson. We were driving down a lonesome road – Barry was driving the van, and to his credit, was doing a good job of ignoring all the rambunctious laughter and noise going on in the back – when suddenly he shouted, "HOLY JESUS!", and spun the car into a U-turn. That stopped the laughter. Was there an accident? A car heading toward us? "MONTEZUMA QUAIL!" Barry shouted. Relieved noise ensued. Where? There was a female on the side of the road, a few feet from where Barry halted the car, drab compared to the fleeing male, and yet still a beauty with tawny-striped body and chestnut checkering underneath. The bird, Barry said, had been standing on the road's deciding line, tucked into the shade just well enough so that the first van (‘Van Victor') had missed seeing it entirely.

It was hard to leave the Quail behind and continue on to Sycamore Canyon. Why Sycamore? Because Sycamore was where a Rufous-capped Warbler had been seen; Sycamore was where a Tropical Parula had been spotted. Our group knew that we had very little chance of seeing the Tropical Parula. Such a flighty little migrant probably wouldn't stick around, but the Rufous-capped Warbler? That was a possibility.

On the way to Sycamore we stopped briefly to observe a Golden Eagle and Rock Wren. When we reached our destination, we followed a dirt trail to the edge of a tree-lined canyon. Here, Jessie played a song for the Rufous-capped Warbler, and the bird popped up obediently, hopping from branch to branch in the shade. Bright yellow against the green leaves, everyone got their binoculars on it almost immediately. When the bird flew away after long looks, our leaders went back to the vans, laid out a map, and considered their options. We could head back to Tucson, or we could go to California Gulch and see a Five-striped Sparrow.

One hour later we were traveling up an exceedingly bumpy road to California Gulch, bouncing along in our seats and looking down off the edge a long, long way. California Gulch was reputed to have the worst road in the United States. Before I had been doubtful – now every young birder believed it. After a while, when the steepness leveled out a bit and the windiness was somewhat minimized, the vans were halted and we clambered out. Before long, we saw the Five-striped Sparrows and focused our scopes upon them. We then ate lunch in a pullout and waved to the Border Patrol helicopter that flew overhead. Then it was time for the long trip down. The closer we got to Tucson, the more bittersweet our time became – while we were enjoying ourselves now and had just seen two amazing life birds, we also knew that tonight we would be saying our goodbyes.

Now Victor and Barry had another choice to make. Go back to the hotel, or do some more birding? Once more, they chose the latter, and after a trip to a sewage treatment facility, we went back to where we began: Madera Canyon. We'd try again for the Flame-colored Tanager. Stepping back onto the vacant road, 12 days later, was a bizarre experience, in afterthought. Here we were again, some of us with over 100 more life birds under their belt, and with more friends than we could count on our fingers – some of us searching for that one last bird. We retraced our steps to where the Flame-colored Tanager had been more than 12 days ago, and raised our binoculars, walking up and down the road. Then, after impatient waiting, a half-dozen of us saw the bird and called, "Flame-colored Tanager!" as the orange-and-black bird paused in a juniper then winged its way across the road – and vanished. So those of us who had seen the bird tried not to be too excited and happy because of those who hadn't. We waited and hoped the bird would return. Someone threatened tears. Then it appeared, once more, like every rarity should. Quickly it was centered in someone's scope, a line was formed behind the scope, and everyone rejoiced. Someone (and it might have been the someone that threatened tears) started singing "Kumbaya!" and trying to hold people's hands. The bird flew away. We packed up our scopes, and drug our feet back down the road, back to the vans, and back to Tucson.

Most of the other campers I've asked since we parted our ways and headed home, have described the camp as "The First Best Summer of my Life". I'm inclined to agree. It won't be our last.

Lauren Tompkins, 14, lives in Kneeland, California, the area around which she birds, bands, and plans her next Great Adventure.

These young birders attended the camps/events they report on with the help of ABA scholarships.