The Big Yard: Notes from a Pajama Birdwatcher

One of 31 Pine Siskins in the yard this morning.

January 31, 2024

January is the month of the pine siskin.  Each morning, dozens of the tiny, streaked finches, along with a handful of lesser goldfinches and house finches, gather in the leafless elderberry tree and patiently await my arrival at the galvanized bin for their sunrise scattering of thistle seed. 

Their numbers seem to be growing.  Along with my Ace Hardware bill.

The yard hosted 43 species for the month, the siskins dominating all others.  Highlights include a magnificent Rivoli’s at the single hummingbird feeder.  A sharp-shin flyby that emptied the yard of all birds for half an hour.  A rufous-crowned sparrow at the fountain, once.  And a pair of male pyrrhuloxias that visited every day, which is unusual here for a seed-cracking songbird that prefers baking hot desert scrub.

The winter months like January seem to bring out the Rivoli’s Hummingbirds.

One of three hawks in the bird-hunting clan, the Sharp-shinned hawk. Cooper’s hawks, another, are far more common. I’m still waiting for my first Goshawk.

The only Rufous-crowned Sparrow of January.

The Pyrrhuloxia—eye candy for sure.

But no owls.  Although I listen most evenings for our resident whiskered screech-owls’ syncopated Morse-code-sounding pidu-do-do, pidu-do-do, pidu-do-do, the little ghosts of the oaks send me no messages.

And now, as I write this, I’m fearing for our returning pair of elf owls come March.

Earlier, I noticed an Arizona Public Service truck on our road and an official staring up at our power pole.  The utility company had recently installed insulated coverings on some jumper wires after I reported an electrocuted red-tailed hawk last year.  But when I walked over to thank her, she said APS would replace the pole next week.  Woodpecker damage.

“What?” I said.

She handed me a sheet with recommendations for dealing with the power outage.

I don’t care about spoiled veggies and sour milk, I thought, and pointed out the large cavity above the transformer.  “Elf owls have been nesting there every spring for 15 years.”

I’ve made the phone calls.  APS Customer Care Center.  APS Construction.  APS Avian Protection.  Matt, a wildlife biologist, was sympathetic.  But in the end, they follow the US Fish and Wildlife Service guidelines for species of concern like elf owls and the birds can find a new nesting cavity.

“We’ll try to save the pole,” he said to assure me he cared.  “But there is no guarantee.”

The APS-created habitat for a long history of Acorn Woodpeckers and nesting Elf Owls.

The world’s smallest owl, an Elf Owl at the power pole nest cavity. Males begin arriving from Mexico in late March to stake out territories.

Thanks for subscribing!  Fingers crossed—I’ll let you know next week, power pole or no pole.  At the very least, I’ll ask APS for the discarded pole and raise it myself in a new, nearby location and hope for the best. More to come!