Subject: Charismatic Birding Experience To Share
Date: Aug 22 13:54:27 1994
From: Eugene Hunn - hunn at u.washington.edu


Hi y'all [I was born in Louisville KY but moved away at age of two; this
is an affectation]:

In case you wonder how I was expending my time while leaving the hotline
unattended, one thing was to pay a nostalgic return trip to the birding
Mecca of Southeastern Arizona. Having followed the Birdwest postings I
had no great hopes of any lifers this time but after an absence of three
years Nancy and I needed to reconnect to all those Mexican mountain and
sonoran desert species we don't get to see up here.

We did make a stab at the cold trail of an alleged female Flame-colored
Tanager at Bog Springs but ran into the sow bear with cubs that had been
reacting aggressively to camper's pets so beat a hasty retreat just short
of the springs where the female was said to have mated with a male
Western or hybrid tanager.

However, we ran into an old birder friend in the Sonoita Creek sanctuary
who passed along rumors of very recent sightings of an Eared Trogon in
Ramsey Canyon, where a pair had attempted to nest three years ago. At
Ramsey the Nature Conservancy Folks were not shy about revealing that,
yes, a male Eared Trogon was apparently a permanent resident of the
canyon and had been sighted just the day before near the old nest site.
Though occasional sightings of the Eared Trogon in the lower reach of the
canyon near the cabins are reported -- and some of these may actually be
true -- they suggested the best place to look -- where the bird spends
the great bulk of its time -- would be 1.5 to 2 miles up the "Hamburg
Trail" up and over the lookout past where the trail drops back into the
cool white fir & sycamore groves along the creek. A pair of Elegant
Trogons, they noted, had nested in that vicinity also this year, the
first nesting at Ramsey of that species in many years.

So the next morning at 8 AM, opening time for the gate, Nancy and I
were there ready to spend the day trying. The Eared Trogon is quite a
different animal from the Elegant, some say more akin to a Quetzal than
the more common trogons of the genus "Trogon," and a bird of the
coniferous forests, especially attracted to the white fir (Abies
concolor). The staff also cautioned that the Eared Trogon is very easily
spooked and thus far less approachable than the Elegant. That advice
proved very much to the point.

The hike in the still-cool morning was not strenuous and by 9:30 we were
approaching the 4th trail crossing above the trail junction to which we'd
been directed, site of the 1991 nesting attempt. No sooner had we
reached that point than we heard an unfamiliar vaguely Pygmy Owl like
series of notes, followed by a "squee" note: the "squee" of the
"squee-chuck" described as the typical vocalization of this species.
Then another set of whistled notes, from 100 feet ahead. We approached
as stealthily as we could manage straining for a glimpse of what we by
now had surmised must be this mysterious other trogon... But not
stealthily enough. It spotted us first, but strangely chose to fly
straight at us, "squee-chucking" all the while, its long graduated black
and white tail flapping behind, to land directly above us about 20 feet
up, but, of course, directly behind an intervening branch from my
perspective (Nancy had a better look: geranium belly, emerald breast, not
white breast band... definitive). I moved slightly to try to get a clear
view and it cackled off to disappear with a final "squee-chuck" into a
dense fir thicket. It remained nearby calling quite regularly and did
afford me one clear shot of its head: black bill and eye, salt-and-pepper
wing coverts against the emerald body. Then it moved off down stream.

We hiked on up to the head of the canyon... hardly meeting a soul
[strange how in the midst of a madding birding crowd, one can hike two
miles and leave 99% of the people behind], enjoying many close studies of
Red-faced Warblers and the like. About 2:30, on our return, we heard an
Elegant Trogon calling from the slope above and while straining to spot
some movement there heard the Eared "squee" note a short way down
stream. By now the Eared had us pegged as potential threats and never
allowed an approach beyond 100 feet; we had several views of his tail
bouncing off to a new, always obscured perch. Rather like trying to spot
a roosting Long-eared Owl before it spots you.

Perhaps fall will bring a mate to Ramsey Canyon, a wanderer from the
Sierra Madre of Sonora to help establish this fine rare bird permanently
in our midst.

Gene Hunn (hunn at u.washington.edu)