My Life’s Birds: #316-319

July 10, 1994 – Patagonia and Kino Springs, Az – Like most pastimes taken on by a community of people, birding has jargon, terms that we use to describe certain phenomena largely common to us birders that would likely sound strange to the “regular” folk. For instance, I could talk about a fallout at a migrant trap and most of you would know instantly what I was speaking of. Same with pelagic or Big Day or pishing, and that’s not even going into the scientific language of bird plumages and molts and flight calls that get even more specific and foreign sounding.

One of the more famous instances of birding jargon involves a relatively nondescript highway rest stop near the town of Patagonia, Arizona. As the story goes, way back in 1971 some lucky birder at the Patagonia reststop turned up the first Black-capped Gnatcatcher nest in the ABA area, subsequent birders were not only treated to the Gnatcatcher, but found the first ABA area Yellow Grosbeak as well. Thus was born the Patagonia Picnic Table Effect, when a good birder finds a good bird, which in turn attracts more good birders, who in turn find more good birds, and so on and so forth ad infinitum (at least in a perfect world).

As it is now, the famous Patagonia reststop not only holds a spot in birding lore, and is therefore a must-visit site for the birding historian, but still remains an excellent birding locale, helped no doubt by the Patagonia-Sanoita Creek Sanctuary nearby. The reststop itself is across the road from a rocky bluff, which on this morning hosted a singing Canyon Wren, nestled nicely between the road and a fast flowing river.

In one of the big sycamores along the riverside, a pair of Rose-breasted Becards had made a nest. This was a crucial moment in my birding career because I remember very distinctly as my fellow campers oohed and aahed at the charcoal male with the pink throat, all the campers but me, that is. By the time I got my bins on the spot, the male had gone, replaced by the drab, but dapper female. To say I was crushed would be an understatement, and in fact the Becard stayed a disappointment until 2007 when I finally found a male in Costa Rica. However, the CR bird was one of the non-rose-throated subspecies. So, I still need to see that pinky chinned one and I’ve been holding a grudge ever since.

The rest of the morning was spent in the Nature Conservancy-run sanctuary where we reacquainted ourselves with the Arizona specialties, but found nothing new. After a stop at the famous Paton’s hummingbird feeders, where we found the resident Violet-crowned Hummingbird (our second of the trip), we turned towards Kino Springs and the birdiest golf course in North America. A walk around the pond by the clubhouse was nothing but hot, but on the drive out both vans got an eyefull of a Gray Hawk in the middle of a field, guarding a meal from hungry blackbirds. Between that and the singing Varied Buntings, we were going home happy campers indeed.

So we headed back to Tucson, to count up our lists and say our goodbyes. I stayed in touch with a few of the people from the camp, but real life got in the way, as it so often does, and those connections faded away. Sometimes I wonder whether those other young birders are still as into nature study or if they went through ebbs and flows like I did. I can’t even remember their names anymore, but I hope they at least look back on the experience with the same fondness I do, and with the same desire to return.

RTBE from wikipedia
GRHA by barloventomagic via flickr (used with Creative Commons attribution)