The Grail Quail

After 20 years, that most excellent of quail –– the Montezuma –– has finally deigned to visit our Roundhouse. Grasses around and above us are now very thick, giving them plenty of protective cover.

A pair of Montezuma Quail, venturing onto new ground

(All photos by Narca)

For a couple of months, usually in the evening, I've been hearing their short, infrequent whistles, which manage to be resonant, burry, and descending, all within about a second's time. But hearing a Montezuma and seeing one are two very different propositions.

Finally! A pair has discovered the water dishes out by the bird feeders. Quietly and unpredictably, they slip in and out.

A demure female Montezuma Quail...

...and her harlequin mate

Montezuma Quail key their breeding to the rains. After dry winters, they wait till well after the summer monsoon has begun, unlike the Gambel's and Scaled quail, which nest in spring and early summer. This year, our winter rains were good enough that the Montezumas could breed early, though so far the three glimpses we've had of our new residents have been of pairs, so we're assuming that the females aren't yet on nests.

If you're searching for Montezuma Quail (not an uncommon situation for birders), they are easiest to see during breeding season when they are calling and after the young hatch, when the family groups are giving little contact calls.

Autumn Musings

Once again, drifts of autumn leaves shift with the winds in South Fork, in the Chiricahua Mountains. Madrone berries are peaking, and pulling in feasting birds. Above, the sky is frisky with mares' tails, foretelling an impending storm. All this richness!

Autumn along the South Fork Road (Photos by Narca)

And one friend who fully appreciated wild richness, no longer is here to do so. Farewell to Rich Stallcup, who showed me my first Montezuma Quail right here in the Chiricahuas, more than three decades ago.

Montezuma Quail (Acrylic painting by Narca)

Mexican Jay, tossing leaves

The only industrious creatures this afternoon are the jays, proving by their behavior that we've overlooked some subtle relation between them and the leaftossers of Central America... a musing that returns to Rich, who often connected ideas in an original manner. He told Peter Warshall, "They've put vultures and storks in the same family. Seems like a birder's great melding of bringing babies and recycling the dead."

The main idea that stayed with me from reading One Hundred Years of Solitude was Márquez's notion that the key to living well in old age is to reach an "honorable pact with solitude". We also face the challenge of reaching some peaceable accommodation with the loss of friends––with losing all of those whose going leaves an empty place against the sky.

Mexican Jay, a portrait

Portal, Late Summer

We've had a full week! Many friends who know the Sky Islands choose the late monsoon season to visit, when hummingbirds are streaming south, nectar-feeding bats cluster around the feeders, and masses of clouds keep the temperatures just about perfect. (Of course the gnats find the temperature perfect too!)

South Fork, singed trees and all, has been the site of much trogon activity this week! (Photos by Narca)

Diminutive Buff-breasted Flycatcher along the Herb Martyr Road

Jon Dunn, our good friend of several decades (!––How can it have been so long?), is in town with his WINGS group, and yesterday I joined them for a fine day in the field. We wandered down Herb Martyr Road, where flash floods the day before had brought new debris across the road, and had also cut a new trench at the Crystal Cave wash, though it was manageable in the big van with its high clearance. After Herb Martyr and a stop at Southwest Research Station for the hummingbird show, we continued to the barricades at East Turkey Creek––the current site for anyone undertaking The Great Mexican Chickadee Quest. The higher Chiricahuas are still closed due to danger from the big Horseshoe Two burn and associated flash flooding.

The day brought many highlights:

We did find a Mexican Chickadee, albeit only one, and not terribly cooperative. Today Jon and friends will make a second try for better looks at The Chickadee. The Chiricahuas are the only accessible locale in the States to find this prize. They also live in a mountain range in the bootheel of New Mexico, but that is on private land and access is difficult, even on the very rare occasions when permission can be obtained.

One of the fledgling Northern Goshawks was broadcasting his wish for a meal. Jon spotted the bird in a pine not far away, and several enjoyed scope views of the youngster before he moved higher up the ridge.

Montezuma Quail covey (Detail from watercolor by Narca)

Returning, one of our folks spotted a male Montezuma Quail, standing stockstill on a rock, not 20 feet from the road. From inside the van, we scrutinized the place until several more of these cryptic birds revealed themselves. It was a family group––a gorgeous pair of adults with about six half-grown chicks in tow.

Acorn Woodpecker at Jackie's feeders in Paradise

After a stop at Jackie and Winston's feeders in Paradise (Juniper Titmouse––yes!), we headed back to Portal. Along the way, a richly-colored Blacktail Rattlesnake decided that the big white van was definitely suspect, and a shower of sound cascaded from its rattles as we photographed the beauty.

Black-tailed Rattlesnake decides that the van isn't trustworthy.

The evening finale brought great views of a little Western Screech Owl and the swooping mass of nectar-feeding bats that visit our hummingbird feeders each night at this time of year. The nearly full moon illumined drifts of cloud in the deep night sky.