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THE BIG SIT!  RETROSPECTIVELY & PROSPECTIVELY

By Herb Fibel

 In 2001, 460 people participated in this now international event.  There were 116 circles (up from 66 in 2000) in 27 states, plus The Netherlands, Mexico, South Africa, and England.  609 bird species were tallied (up from 432 in 2000).  Texas went all out in 2001 in an attempt to beat California's No. 1 status in 2000.  The Texans went from 3 circles in 2000 to 25 circles in 2001, tallying 228 species on count day, and easily topping California's 2001 total.

As you may well imagine, location, location, location, of your site is everything.  I selected the Granite Reef site six years ago, because of its riparian mesquite bosque habitat for passerines, and its wide vista of Granite Reef Reservoir for water and shore birds.  On October 14th last year, Pete 

Moulton, Cynthia Donald, Ken Howe and I, tallied 50 species in the nine hours we occupied the circle.  We added six brand new species to the list, bringing our total for the six years up to an even 100.  Adam and Phyllis Martin, and Ken Rupp, dropped by during the day and helped us add to our species total.   Although we didn't place very high among the circle totals nationally and internationally this year, the camaraderie was excellent, the weather superb, and almost $1,200 was raised for Maricopa Audubon's conservation and education efforts through pledges and donations.  Our thanks go out to the many donors, with a special thanks to Wild Birds Unlimited, Tempe, for their contribution of some much needed supplies and equipment.

To give you some idea how varied the count efforts are, I learned that there were two other counts in Arizona in 2001.  Maureen Hickey tallied 13 species in Catalina State Park north of Tucson, and Valerie Smart tallied 14 species in her back yard in Tucson, bringing our state total for 2001 up to 56.  Among the missing, though, in 2001 was Matt Brown's Sonoita Creek Squatters, which in 2000 added 36 species to Arizona's total for that year.

"How can I get involved in the October 13, 2002, international Big Sit!?", you ask.  Let me count the ways.  You can pick a Big Sit! site of your own, find some convivial birders to join you, reserve your site in advance with new Big Sit! honcho, John Triana, at jtriana@connix.com or jtriana@rwater.com, or call him at (203) 401-2749, sit and count on count day, and e-mail your results to John after the event.  If that's too much trouble you can let us do the Big Sit! for you, and either send a donation check payable to Maricopa Audubon Society or send a per species pledge for billing after the event to Herb Fibel, 1128 E. Geneva Drive, Tempe, Arizona, 85282.

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ARIZONA, ANYTIME, ANYWHERE

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By Jim Burns

  One of the fun aphorisms that periodically circulates through the birding world is that sooner or later every bird species will show up at every birding site.  Birders only wish they could live that long and cover that much territory, but those of us lucky enough to live and bird in Arizona know the aphorist’s vision might just be fact.

For example, right now, twenty yards out and filling our binocular field with crippling studies of seldom seen plumage and little known feeding habits is an avian visitor from the Arctic.  We are in Arizona, three hours from home.  The bird is in Arizona, 3000 miles from home.  Its back is to us, a beautiful mosaic of darks and lights, leaving a lasting impression of rich, warm, browns in the shoulder area converging in a line up the back of the neck and suffusing out over the crown.  The bird quarters toward us and we see the clean white underparts which accentuate the partial collar beneath the clean white throat.  The beast turns its head and we view the white face with its dark, beady eye, the dark auricular patch, and the large, pale bill.

Obviously I am with Cynthia Donald, Jo Ann Loza, Pete Moulton, and Joe Woodley on the fishing pier at Site Six on Lake Havasu watching the Yellow-billed Loon getting ready to dive again.  Well, no . . . actually I'm not.  I'm with Steve Ganley and Roy Jones and we are in the middle of the dry bed at the Reay Lane sewage ponds in Thatcher watching the Snow Bunting getting ready to flip away again into the breeze with his American Pipit and Horned Lark buddies.

Most snowbirds have the sense to leave Arizona about the time temperatures reach into the eighties and the Cactus League is wrapping up.  Yesterday thermometers in Phoenix hit 99 and usually suspect starter, Brian Anderson, to our surprise, has already lasted through six innings of a Diamondbacks real season “W.”  I glance at the calendar on my watch.  It is the middle of April, April 14 to be exact, and both loon and bunting persist here in heat stricken, drought-ridden Arizona.  And not way up in Littlefield or over on The Rez, but south of an east/west median line through the state.

If seeing a new bird, a “Life” bird, is the single most exciting thing for an avid birder, then certainly seeing a bird far out of its expected range and seeing one far out of its expected season must rank second and third respectively.  Yesterday when Liz Hatcher was here to see the Snow Bunting she experienced all three of these excitations in one eye blink, an extraordinary birding trifecta which is becoming almost commonplace in Arizona.  Unlike the legendary Dick Davenport of 

Out-of-state birders who visit periodically for Arizona’s regular specialties or the odd Mexican vagrant don’t know the half of it.  When I leave Thatcher today I could drive to Lake Havasu and see the loon too, but I’m going home to take a nap.  I’ve already seen a Yellow-billed Loon and a Snow Bunting on the same day once before—on Attu.  It was 35 degrees and raining snow.  The day before yesterday Dale Clark saw the bunting, then drove to the Huachucas to find the Flame-colored Tanager in Miller Canyon.  Presumably he used his vehicle’s air-conditioning and applied sunscreen liberally.

We hear Arizona birders complain about a lot of things:  starlings nesting in the Saguaros; humidity in August; the long drive to the Chiricahuas; the dearth of shorebird sites.  I’ve never heard a birder move from Arizona and not lament that leaving.  I’ve never heard one complain about enjoying a picnic lunch in January, in shorts and shirtsleeves, watching Elegant Trogon, Green Kingfisher, Eastern Phoebe, and Louisiana Waterthrush simultaneously like Jerry Bock and friends did this past winter at Lake Patagonia State Park.

All this is a roundabout way of chiding you for thinking it odd, even disconcerting perhaps, that a Snow Bunting found four months ago in late spring just now graces the cover of the newsletter bearing an August date and a fall designation.  Get over it.  The incongruities of species, seasons, climates, and habitats define Arizona birding, make it special, exhilarate us, quicken our pulse every time we call the hotline or connect to birdwg05.

Would a Red-throated Pipit in Arizona be a Dick Davenport moment for you?  It would be for me.  A decade ago in Alaska I had insufficient looks and took terrible photographs.  Every fall there are sightings along the California coast, but did you know there is one record for Arizona?  The bird hung out at the sewage ponds in Kayenta for a week in October of ’89.  This is Arizona.  We’re due.  The phone could ring now, any minute.

If that’s not Chuck LaRue on the line, calling from The Rez, and if the El Mirage ponds are dry right now and you’re saddened to hear of their imminent demise, give me a call.  We’ll crank the a-c up to high and drive down to Thatcher.  It will be exciting.  God only knows what we’ll find.