The Big Yard: Notes from a Pajama Birdwatcher

April 12, 2023

This morning, with the arrival of a lazuli bunting, the yard boasted its first 50-species day for 2023.  With nine hummingbirds now (plus one hybrid Anna’s x broad-billed), seven sparrows, four vireos, three warblers, and the tanagers, orioles, and grosbeaks, it will only get better.  Especially for the warblers.

The ever-inquisitive Virginia’s Warbler comes to the fountain for a drink.

First Lark Sparrow of 2023.

A Black-headed Grosbeak, a sure sign of spring.

After its first appearance last summer, the return of the hybrid Anna’s x Broad-billed Hummingbird.

But right now, the hummingbirds are the big attraction.  “Winged jewels,” as my friend John Schaefer might say, avid photographer and birdwatcher that he is.  I first knew John when I was studying biology at the University of Arizona in the late 1970s.  He was the president of the university.  He autographed my BS degree.  But we didn’t hang out much.  While he organized the Tucson Audubon Society and founded the Nature Conservancy in Arizona, and, with Ansel Adams, created the Center for Creative Photography at the U of A, I had other pursuits more ignominious.  But somewhere along the way, he noticed my writing and bird photography and reached out to me.

Over the years, we traded photos of birds, and he shared photography tips with me.  I own most of his books, including a book of US Postal stamps of his glorious cactus flowers.  His original image of a night-blooming cereus hangs on my wall. 

Yesterday, he drove from Tucson to my yard to focus his lens on the hummingbirds.

“Flowers are a lot easier than hummingbirds,” John said during a lull in the action.  His friend Sue agreed and added how determined he was.  She had joined him on the Bisbee hummingbird adventure.  John was hoping to photograph species he hadn’t gotten before.  Hummingbirds I’d listed only recently.  But we saw only the usual suspects.  Mostly broad-bills and black-chins.  A few rufous.

Then I got a one-word text from Lucifer’s Mistress, my neighbor: “Bluethroat!”

 John wanted to try for it.  I could see it in his eyes.

I texted her back and she said, “Help yourselves.  Lucifer is here.  In my face again while I was pruning.”

We gathered camera gear, climbed into John’s BMW hybrid SUV, and drove up the road.  In less than an hour, he photographed the Lucifer and a surprise first-of-the-season calliope hummingbird, both his target species.

Tonight, while a common poorwill whistles its namesake outside my window (a 51-species day!), John writes that he will return tomorrow for the blue-throated mountain gem.  He’ll be pleased to learn that Lucifer’s mate arrived this evening.

The exquisite female Lucifer Hummingbird. The “ordinary” male is below.

A male Calliope Hummingbird, one of 12 species of hummingbirds that visits the yard every year.

The Blue-throated Mountain Gem, as it is now called, is a more uncommon hummingbird in the canyon than even the “rare” Lucifer. This photo of yesterday’s male Bluethroat is my first.

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