The Big Yard: Notes from a Pajama Birdwatcher

A male Arizona Woodpecker eyes me from the apple tree.

February 7, 2024

Wind, rain, and wood peckery.  A small herd of javelina grunts and rummages in the compost pile...again.  I should send them on their way, but I can’t take my eyes off a gorgeous Arizona woodpecker that returns the stare.  A pair of the Mexican birds has been hammering the oaks all winter.  I know them by their sound, a rapid-fire drumming, a vibration that rattles my teeth unlike the common ladderback and acorn woodpeckers. 

An acorn woodpecker joins the Arizona for a taste of “High Energy” suet cake strapped to the apple tree.  The clown-faced residents stuff sunflower seeds into chinks in the adobe brick of the house.  They pepper dead tree limbs (and my neighbor’s trim and fascia boards) with holes for their acorn granaries. 

And, they are the reason our utility company wants to cut down our power pole and the elf owls’ seasonal home.

Along with the hundreds pencil-sized granary holes, Acorn Woodpeckers (male above, female below) are also responsible for chipping out the cavity the elf owls nest in during the summer.

Unlike males, female Acorn Woodpeckers show a black band separating the red cap from the white forehead.

A female Ladder-backed Woodpecker showing her namesake.

I’m thinking about elf owls this morning.  Yesterday, I watched for the white APS bucket truck that, according to the flier left at the door, would roar up our road before 9 AM, at which time the power company would block the road and interrupt our service for four hours to replace the pole.  The one with the elf owl nesting cavity. 

“Keep refrigerators and freezers closed as much as possible.” 

At 9:05, I called Ericca, the utility maintenance planner and my point person.  Since speaking with her in my yard last week and learning about the pole removal, and then reaching out to APS and Matt at Avian Protection (and posting on social media), the neighborhood has rallied around a cause. 

We understand the concern.  Especially in the light of the California wildfires and the utility company responsible for three of them.  We are a Firewise community.  We appreciate APS for its forward thinking.  But we also enjoy the wildlife.  So, as word got out, one neighbor suggested a protest.  “With Save the Owls signs!”  Another said she would chain herself to the power pole—all tongue-in-cheek, for sure. But it was Todd who came through.  He immediately went to work in his woodshop and, using Cornell Lab NestWatch specifications, constructed three pine nestboxes for elf owls.  

“This one is for APS,” he said when he dropped them off.  “The other is for you, and we’ll put one up too.” 

Todd is an artist.  I want him to sign my box and I’ll hang it on my wall.

The hinged side panel allows access to the inside, which Todd has stuffed with dry wood shavings for the new guests.

Yesterday, Ericca told me APS had rescheduled the project to August, “After the owls have nested.”  The pole still has to come down, she explained, but this way the migratory birds get another season.

And a chance to relocate, I added, thinking the oaks will bloom with nest boxes come March.

Owl power.

I’ll be watching (and reporting) in March to see how the owls take to the boxes.  Maybe I’ll set up a live OwlCam!

Our desert groundhogs.  You know spring is on the way when baby javelina begin shadowing their mothers.

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