By Rob Bettasso

My first camping trip of 2024 was an early spring excursion. It was so early in spring, in fact, that winter had not yet received word that its time was over. As such, when my friend Mike arrived at my place at 6:00 a.m., we loaded my camping gear into his truck during the beginning of a snow squall. The inclement weather persisted as we drove through the White Mountain Apache lands, crossed the Salt River, traversed a portion of the San Carlos Apache Rez, and finally, around Globe, Arizona, the snow and sleet began to taper off. All signs indicated that we were about to have a memorable trip!

During that initial period of travel, Mike and I had only noticed the occasional raven, or sometimes, flock of ravens, as we made our way south under gray skies and through a very wet landscape. It was in Globe, while waiting in line at a fast-food drive-through, that we finally saw our second bird species, a gang of Brewer’s Blackbirds, as they perched alertly on a nearby powerline, just waiting for somebody to drop a tater-tot.

By the time we reached Aravaipa Creek, much of the rolling hills and mountainsides were thick with wildflowers; mostly various types of lupine, penstemon, brittlebush, poppies, and a dozen or so other varieties that we knew only by their botanical family names, or not at all. We stopped near Aravaipa Creek to stretch our legs and scan the cactus country for desert birds; including the generally common types such as Cactus Wren, Curve-billed Thrasher, and Phainopepla, and we were surprised not to see, nor even hear, any birds at all.

We got back into Mike’s truck and continued our way south with the Galiuro Mountains to our east and Signal Peak and the Black Hills to our west. The San Pedro River weaved back and forth on either side of the highway and Mike and I reminisced about the many work trips we had made to this area back in the early 1990’s when, while working for the Arizona Game and Fish Department’s “Native Fishes Program,” we conducted fisheries sampling trips to the various tributaries of the San Pedro River. Back in those days, we were either too busy netting and identifying the local fish species, or, we were so exhausted from having spent a long day doing our fisheries work, that we scarcely had the energy to do much bird watching.

Now, with both of us enjoying very active retirements, we can afford to partake in any type of nature study that we choose and, with the spring migration just gearing up, we had opted to focus on finding, identifying, and observing as much bird life as possible over the course of our three days of traveling in southeastern Arizona. A few weeks from now, should either one of us once again be in Gila, Pinal, Pima, or Santa Cruz counties, we might just as easily shift our attention from birds to the emerging amphibians and reptiles, which are also richly represented in the southern portions of Arizona.

As the morning wore on, we departed from the San Pedro Valley and headed up to Oracle, Arizona and then traveled along the west side of the Santa Catalina Mountains and on through the hectic metropolitan Tucson area. Because of an enjoyable stop at the very birdy, but urban, Sweetwater Wetlands, we didn’t make it to our first wild destination, the Santa Rita Mountains, until mid-afternoon. Mike is an excellent driver, being both alert yet calm at the wheel, so even after the long drive neither of us felt fatigued as we traveled up and into the legendary Madera Canyon. I use the term “legendary” with good reason, since at least as far back as the late 1970’s, when I made my first birding trip to Madera Canyon, the area was already well established as a birding “Mecca.” Additionally, when my dad retired and settled in Green Valley, Arizona in the 1980’s, I would visit him frequently and always made a point of exploring Madera, as well as several of the other birding hotspots within the Santa Rita’s.

For the remainder of that first afternoon, Mike and I sought out rare birds at two of the well-known accommodations in the canyon, since those establishments cater to birders and, even if you are not a paying customer, they still allow you to observe their many seed- and sugar-water feeders for birds of all sorts. Because it had been many years since I had last been to Madera Canyon, I was stunned by how many bird-feeders now festooned the area and, naturally, by the increased number of birds that had become accustomed to being observed by large numbers of bird watchers. Can you say: “eco-tourism?”

We took our place near the hummingbird feeders while Broad-billed, Anna’s, and Rivoli hummers whirred near our heads as they flitted from one sugary fix to another. Later, after a brief rain shower had cleared out most of the people, Mike and I were lucky enough to watch a rare Berylline Hummingbird lap-up the sweet liquid while appearing utterly unconcerned that he was the sole representative of his species in the area; the Berylline Hummingbird being a more common resident further to the south and especially in the mountains of Mexico.

Before the sun dropped too low, we left Madera Canyon and headed to an area that Mike had camped at last year, when he had taken a solo trip to southern Arizona to enjoy the spring bird migration. We had about a half hour of light left when we arrived at a “dispersed” camping portion of the Coronado National Forest and while Mike set up his tent, I found a nice, level place to set up my cot; complete with my tarp-in-waiting, should the evening’s partly cloudy skies let lose any rain during the night. Next, we took advantage of some mesquite firewood left by a previous camper and got a small campfire going. After eating tuna and noodles for dinner, I stayed up long enough to hear Mike “call in” a nearby Western Screech-Owl, although he had hoped to attract the closely related, but more localized, Whiskered Screech-Owl, which has (surprise, surprise) longer facial bristles as well as a few other subtle distinctions.

The morning dawned clear and cold and, after a quick breakfast of coffee and muffins, we left some of our gear at the campsite and headed further south for some additional birding down along the Santa Cruz River, near the town of Tubac. For whatever reason, the riparian corridor there seems to be a funneling area for raptors of all sorts as they migrate north. The local nature center hosts an annual “Hawk Watch” and birders from all over come to see upwards of 15 different raptor species as they soar near and far overhead. Although we were not so fortunate as to see the very rare Short-tailed Hawk or the uncommon White-tailed Kite, we did have excellent viewing of the area’s characteristic Gray, Black, and Zone-tailed hawks as well as several other raptor species. Perhaps most memorable, were the huge numbers of Turkey and Black vultures as they soared so low that you could hear the loud rustle of their enormous wings.

Later, after we had had an eyeful of big, soaring birds, we hiked along the much diminished Santa Cruz River, where we walked underneath a thick canopy of towering cottonwood trees. This stretch of the Santa Cruz still has water, unlike much of the over-drawn system; which has to give up its liquid treasure to the unquenchable growth of towns running from Tucson to Nogales. Nonetheless, due to the brave and sustained efforts of a relatively few ecologically aware citizens, portions of the river still flow and the resulting life-forms are both high in diversity and in abundance. It was in this area that Mike caught sight of a Northern Beardless Tyrannulet (a diminutive species within the family of birds known as Flycatchers). Ever the patient fellow, Mike was able to precisely describe to me the location of the clean-shaven birdlet and I was thrilled to have a good, long opportunity to study the field marks of this uncommon visitor from Mexico.

After some very productive and rewarding birding within the “gallery forest” of the Santa Cruz River (and “gallery” seems a very apt term to me, since within its “walls” hangs some of the most precious works of living art on planet Earth), we visited a few other key birding habitats on our way back to our campsite. Upon arriving at camp at nearly 9:00 p.m., the day having been so wonderfully full of exercise and beauty, I was simply too tired to cook dinner or enjoy a campfire, so I promptly and joyfully went right to my cot and slid into my sleeping bag. The big moon would be late to rise above the Rita’s and so, for maybe 10 minutes, I forced my eyes to stay open while I watched the stars. But, my efforts at amateur astronomy were futile, as my lids were heavy and I quickly fell into a deep sleep and didn’t stir until an eager Northern Cardinal and a boisterous Lucy’s Warbler woke me up with their earliest songs the next morning.

Our third and final day was also a full one, with forays to several distinct ecotypes of the Upland Sonoran Desertscrub and the Semi-desert Grassland biomes. Suffice to say, we again saw a wealth of bird species, plus, widespread and lovely floral displays and the emergence of all manner of insect life. Nonetheless, by later in the afternoon it was time to start thinking of returning to Pinetop. Mike, being as happy in his family life as he is in his various solitary or small group nature excursions, was looking forward to returning home and so once the sun dropped low, we drove non-stop and made it back slightly before 10:00 p.m.

The next morning, I carefully flipped through my tattered copy of Peterson’s Field Guide to the Western Birds and was impressed to discover that between Mike and me, we had seen approximately 100 bird species during our travels. I guess that should hold me for a few weeks, about which time our own woods, meadows, and riparian areas will once again be filled with the sights and sounds of myriad beautiful birds.