The Big Yard: Notes from a Pajama Birdwatcher

A male (Audubon’s form) Yellow-rumped Warbler showing its fine breeding plumage.

April 3, 2024

Half a dozen yellow-rumped warblers swirl around the leaf-rimed apple tree, chasing each other as if they’re playing a game of Cupid tag.  Without the pool noodles.  Our only winter warbler is brightening up for the journey to breeding grounds in Canada and Alaska, blacks and yellows shifting into rich and vibrant tones as lengthening days churn the blood with hormones. 

Warblers on the move.  Soon, the butter-butts will front a migration of northbound warblers where as many as 18 species may pass through the yard.  My favorite time of year.

This morning’s newest arrival isn’t a warbler, however, but the ninth hummingbird so far this spring.  The long-billed, thin-necked, black-chinned hummingbird, a male, alights on a bare stem in the chokecherry to survey feeders guarded by a fierce broadbill male that chases off all comers, the Anna’s and broadtails and rufous, the Costa’s and calliope, even the mags and violet-crowns twice its size.

Hot blood and testosterone.  The tiny blackchin hasn’t a chance. 

One hopeful and hungry male Black-chinned Hummingbird.

The vigilant male Broad-billed Hummingbird—no one gets past him.

But the biggest surprise for April is the continuing Cassin’s finch, which materialized at the fountain one morning among the house finches and pine siskins.  A single female Cassin’s finch.  The birds are named for John Cassin, a 19th-century ornithologist and taxonomist who spent his days pouring over dried bird skins at the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sciences where he was curator (and who came to an early death at 55, poisoned by the arsenic used to preserve the birds).

I last saw Cassin’s finches, rare winter migrants to southeast Arizona, in the yard early last year and I’ve been expecting them for months.  My youngest daughter in Flagstaff sent me a teaser recently showing her snow-draped seed feeder chock full of the birds.  Next, she’ll be sending me photos of a purple finch!  Turns out, according to eBird, mine currently is the only Cassin’s finch reported in Cochise County.

With the American Ornithological Society’s (AOS) recent commitment to changing the names of birds named after people (eponyms), I imagine this finch will be among them.  Since its less-colorful lookalike, the purple finch is already taken, and I’m against belittling the bird by calling it a lesser purple finch, I have another suggestion.

How about: Mauve Finch?

The “Mauve Finch.” Male and female Cassin’s Finches look very similar to Purple Finches, which are more common in the eastern US and very rare in the West.

A female Cassin’s Finch. Note the conical bill and distinctive face pattern.

Purple Finch?  I have a few records of female/immature Purple Finches in the yard, although eBird experts disagree, so they remain “unconfirmed.”  Unlike the very similar female/immature Cassin’s Finches, female/immature Purple Finches show off-white underparts with blurry streaks (rather than crisp streaks) and no pale eye ring. Compare to the female Cassin’s Finch above. What do you think?

Thanks for subscribing! The warblers are coming, but tonight, as I write, the first elf owl of the season calls from the nest hole in the power pole!