Lifers All Around Us: Thoughts after Reid Park

Being a Tucsonan, I feel at times I have seen all the birds there are to see in my immediate vicinity.  I often have the feeling that I must go out beyond my everyday surroundings in the search of lifers. But as I have been working on this 2014 list and diving more into the birds where I commonly see the everyday birds, the more I am discovering lifers completely by accident. 

Along with my birding I have been attempting to stay fit with some running around Reid Park in the center of Tucson's urban scene. As I do my runs, I sometimes take a few minutes to walk around the park to see what other birds I might recognize. I have come across a couple of species that I hope to identify. One is a kingbird, which according to all field guides and other resources, not a single species should be wintering this far north. I have narrowed the suspect to one of two species: Cassin's or Western Kingbird. I am leaning towards Cassin's myself. I just need a good look at the tail. The other is a cormorant. And to be frank with you, I have had my share of cormorants in my lifetime, from swimming outside my bedroom window in South Korea, to finding them working with fishermen on the lakes in Japan. I have searched and finally found the Pelagic within flocks of Temnick's. And then one winter day found a Great cormorant at a reservoir on the west side of Jeju. Do not get me wrong. I totally adore the graceful pose of a cormorant sunning itself. But when I do see one, identifying one is not so much a priority as it use to be.

That brings be up to this morning, which I must say is brisker than most other mornings. My goal was to find these two birds and finally identify them without a doubt with the hopes that both would be lifers. With very little light, stalking the bigger lake at the park would be easier to find the cormorants. I had seen them the day before, but this morning may had been just too early. Not a cormorant in sight. But, swimming along with the other waterfowl was a pied eared grebe, not a lifer, but an Arizona lifer and an addition to 2014. As the sun was making its appearance, I decided to check out the places where I had seen the kingbird. A circus was parked here for the weekend. As the rays touched the tops of the trees in front of me, a bird gradually came to light. From the shadows, I could tell it was blue and reddish, but how much was blue and red was blurred by its dark profile. After about 15 minutes of freezing and making sure I did not lose sight of this bird, it became quite clear it was the Eastern bluebird. I was shocked. I did not even know that this was his range. A lifer right in my backyard in the center of the city. I could have left a happy man if it wasn't of that white whale, this kingbird that was eluding me. I checked all the spots I had seem him before but nowhere in sight this morning. I got in my car because decided I was too frozen to go on with this chase.

As I began to drive out, red flashed to the left of me. First thought, a vermillion flycatcher. Too big. Cardinal? No crest or black around the beak. Binoculars come flying out and there in front of me was a tanager, the Hepatic tanager, the one species that tends to stay in these parts for the winter while his brothers take off for the south. For me, fortune brought me to another lifer. I have been spending my time trying to find birds that I normally see, and yet I am coming in contact with birds I would not have imagined meeting on a winter's morn. The game has gotten more interesting that I could have imagined. I thought I was trapped in the world of the mundane, finding birds that I found a hundred times before. Now I am finding more lifers than one could imagine.

A New New Year's Day: East Fork Trail and the Rufus Sided Towhee

Birding has been a lot of my life without realizing it. It creeps around, stalking you. You start with a bird list here, add some more to it later, compile multiple lists and then you see that you have seen over 100 birds. It still isn't anything serious until when you actually sit down and think about it, the truth comes out and you admit to yourself in the gravest of tones, "Hello, my name is Stephen. I am a birder and I have 471 lifers."

I did not go out birding, like most of my confessions begin. It was a hike to bring in the new year, like I do every year. This time I am with my sister-in-law, Alma, hiking from Prison Camp Road to Sabino Canyon via Sycamore Reservoir and East Fork Trail. A solid 11 mile day round trip. Over the first saddle, the first bird of the year came into sight: the Rufous sided towhee. This bird is by no means a lifer, but at the same time, I haven't seen his friendly face for some time, possibly over 7 years. Instinctively I knew without referencing to National Geographic. The first bird of the year.

What made this more worth while was to share it with my hiking partner. Anytime I would venture out with fellow hikers and spot a bird, I try to share my enthusiasm by sharing my binoculars. Generally, my companions would try to spy the bird before it takes off and would concur the sighting with a "Yup, it's a bird." But this time it was different. Despite having its generic sparrow/bird traits, the rufous sided towhee is little more unique that just a bird. Being 8 1/2 inches long, it dwarfs most other sparrows. And rather than being the dirty brown that we try to distinguish between 99% of all the buntings and sparrows, this guy is mostly black with a reddish sienna belly and a little white here and there. Definitely a more striking bird than we normally associate with birds in his grouping. It stroke a chord in my non birding  companion. "Oh, I see it!" rather than the usual "It's a bird." I do not think I have created a convert in this one sighting, but the reaction was far above par for the course. Plus, I did not have that urge to hide my passion for seeing just a bird.

So, first bird of the year. That was kinda my thinking behind this whole blog, a year list. Right now, I have my lifers list, broken down by lifers in various regions of the world. Within this list, I throw in various birding trips I have taken with a list of birds I saw on those trips. These very well possibly repeat many of the lifers. But this is the first yearly list for me. I just woke this morning to let my dog out to discover a couple of doves on the phone lines. With many of the species I regularly encounter, they automatically get filed into the "Seen It" part in my brain without even looking at it. It's either a mourning or a white winged. Check and check. Now the game has changed. Which one is it? This list is making me rethink how I see the common birds everyday. No more assumptions. No more short encounters. I have to get reacquainted with so many strangers that I thought I knew.