The Big Yard: Notes from a Pajama Birdwatcher

A winter visitor from the western US, the Green-tailed Towhee.

December 6, 2023

The season’s first freeze gripped us last weekend, which is later than normal.  Leaves tumble to the ground, chokecherry yellow and canyon grape red, although the apple tree clings to an alpenglow as the sun rises.  The tomatoes are done.  The vines hang over their cages like dirty wash rags.  The yard needs serious attention—still, I’m happy to be home after missing most of November.

Our “desert cardinal,” the Pyrrhuloxia (or “flame” bird with the “crooked” beak).

This morning, wrapped in a blanket, I check off the birds and watch for new arrivals.  So far, only a skulking green-tailed towhee and one gorgeous male pyrrhuloxia to add to the usual juncos, sparrows, titmice, and nuthatches among others.  Then, I hear the heavy wing-flutter of a large hummingbird—one to stir the resident pair of Anna’s from their post at the feeder.  The magnificent one.  I raise my camera and wait.  When it sallies out of the trees, I catch the green flash of its throat—a male!—and snap a dozen photos.

 Another ordinary day among the extraordinary.

The formerly named Magnificent Hummingbird, currently named Rivoli’s (and soon to be renamed again—how about “Magnificent”?)

A common year-round resident of the yard, the Bridled Titmouse.

Another winter visitor, the Red-naped Sapsucker.

The Arizona Woodpecker of mostly Mexico.

A Hermit Thrush—but I’m still watching for the Swainson’s…

If bird names are changing, the Yellow-rumped Warbler wants to be on the list. It’s tired of people calling it a “Butter Butt.”

Dark-eyed juncos, of which there are six “races,” practice “social monogamy.” Both sexes tend to have only one mate with which they nest and defend a territory.  However, females frequently copulate with other males and as a result, males raise young that are not necessarily their own.  More about this soon.

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