So Cal

April 5
We left Gilbert Ray Campground early and headed over to the Saguaro National Park for a 7 AM bird walk. We had already visited this area the previous day, but only during the afternoon lull, so we planned to tag along and see if the guide was any good or if the birds were active. As it turned out, the guide was fine, but he was also not a healthy man. In fact, about 20 minutes into the tour he rushed off to his car, mumbling something about his heart condition. When he came back, he explained that his irregular heart beat was being medicated and that sometimes he just felt worn out and couldn’t go on. As he left, he told the group the same joke he’d told me earlier, that since Abby and I had been here before we should lead this section instead of him. Except this time, it didn’t sound like a joke. So I don’t know if the other birders took this seriously or not, but after a few minutes of awkward standing around, I somehow ended up filling the guide role. As much as a way to fill the silence as anything. And suddenly it was almost like we were back in Bar Harbor again, leading elderly vacationers down Ocean Drive. Only, instead of chickadees, there were cactus wrens. And instead of Balsam Fir, there was saguaro cactus. Not to mention we’d been in the area all of 12 hours.
The other critical difference is that this group was bird-oriented, and that puts more pressure on your identification skills. In Maine, with the cruise ship crowd, we could say, “Oh, there goes a Rose-throated Becard,” and they might not know the difference. Well, this walk was a good indication that we were quite up the challenge. I really do feel like I’ve come a long way, as far as being able to quickly sort out all the standard birdlife of a new place. It does help that there are often hold-overs from one place to the next. For instance, the same migrating vireos may show up in both Arizona and Southern California, even though many of the Arizona residents may no longer be a possibility. Anyway, although the walk was a little bizarre, it was a confidence boost for sure, and we did see some birds. The highlight was a Scott’s Oriole, glaring yellow with a black hood and bib, sticking his sharp beak in between the spines of the saguaro on which he was perched.
The remainder of the day was spent driving to the Salton Sea. En route, we made our habitual McDonald’s stop to use the internet. It was filthy hot outside, so I was compelled to treat myself to an iced coffee. After working in a coffee shop during the winter, it is strange indeed not to be having coffee regularly anymore. At least I know I’m not addicted I guess. We spent so long there planning our next trip segments, updating the blog, responding to emails, and trying to get all our business done in one go, that as we were leaving Abby remarked fondly that it kind of felt like home. Well, that was one chicken coop I was glad to have flown.
Night fell before we arrived at our campsite, which was a large gravel parking lot with a few scattered fire rings in the middle of a multi-use duck refuge. Multi-use means that there are both non-consumptive activities (bird-watching for instance) and consumptive activities going on. Like duck-hunting. So as we heard what sounded like machine gun fire in the distance and then saw flares shooting up, we weren’t sure whether it was a holiday fireworks display (we’ve been oblivious to the passing of holidays already on this trip) or we were in the middle of duck-hunting season and hadn’t known it. After passing a fretful night, spent in the company of a small army of mosquitoes, we learned the following day that there is an “aerial artillery range” in the Chocolate Mountains nearby. Not that we know what that means exactly, either, but it was somewhat comforting to know that the bird-watchers weren’t about to go down with the birds.

April 6
I don’t know what time we woke up because 1) my watch had gone a little strange and now claimed it was New Year’s Day and 2) we didn’t know if California was on Daylight Savings Time or not. Since Arizona is proudly against D.S.T. we eventually found out that we had crossed in to Pacific Standard Time without changing times at all. I resolve not to look at my watch anymore. Thank you, New Year’s Day.
The birding at Salton Sea was really neat. Shorebirds, terns, gulls, and herons all rejoined us, and we picked up right where we’d left in Texas, except we had to remind ourselves we weren’t actually on the coast anymore. It’s just an enormous man-made salty lake, occupying an ancient sea-bed. But all day, I couldn’t shake the Gulf Coast comparisons. There were plenty of songbirds around in the bushes, too. Our first Black-Headed Grosbeaks popped out first thing, along with the greatest diversity of warblers that we’d seen yet. We drove down Davis Road parallel to the shore, and took a number of small access roads over to the lake, where there were thousands of Northern Shovelers, American Coots, Long-billed Dowitchers, American Avocets, and Black-necked Stilts. What a show. In the middle of one large gathering of waterfowl, Abby spotted a Roseate Spoonbill threshing the water with his prehistoric bill. A Brant also stood out from the ducks, looking almost but not quite like a cross between a coot and a Canada Goose. Gull-billed Terns (in the U.S. confined to this one location) were a real treat, as were the Burrowing Owls we found perched on telephone wires above the roadside agricultural fields. At least there’s one owl out in the daytime so you can see it pretty easily. At one point, we had all three peeps, the smallest sandpipers, lined up for us to compare…a stroke of luck, as these are a notoriously difficult group to separate in the field. Marbled Godwits also put in an appearance, mixed in with the Dowitchers on the mudflats. But it wasn’t even the new species that was most exciting. It was the numerical spectacle of so many birds concentrated in one area. That’s one of the greatest joys of watching birds that depend on water—when there isn’t much water around, the birds can be found in these oases in unimaginable numbers.
Eventually, we had to uproot ourselves and drive on up to Joshua Tree, where we spent a much more restful night. First, though, we had a long-put-off planning session that should carry us to the end of the month! In particular, we’ve had to plan around an April 19th pelagic birding trip to see Albatrosses on the Oregon coast (just signed up a few days ago…very exciting). The more immediate plan is to bird at Big Morongo today, and then head up to the Kern River Valley, where we’ll spend a night and morning birding before continuing on to Yosemite.

April 7
We finally figured out what time it was this morning and marched off to the Big Morongo Preserve to do some birding. Odd that the best site in the area is not in the National Park at all, but there you have it. We walked the trails through a remarkably varied set of habitats, from a boardwalk through the marsh to a desert scrubland up to a ridge-line absolutely covered in wildflowers. I’d heard of the desert bloom, but this was something else. Abby and I independently thought of Switzerland. I guess when you combine snowy peaks in the background and rolling wildflower meadows in the foreground, that’s what you get. Then when you add yucca and desert plants, I don’t know what you get. Big Morongo, I suppose. Most of the birds, however, were hanging out down below. So that’s where we spent most of our time. We were shown a Hooded Oriole’s nest, a tubular structure attached I-don’t-know-how to the underside of a palm frond, forty feet up off the ground. In the last two days, we have run into three new species with “California” in the name: the California Gull, Towhee, and Thrasher. I guess at least we know where we are, even if we can’t tell what time it is.
We spent a decent amount of time at the feeders by the entrance looking for Costa’s Hummingbird, a somewhat scarce but year-round resident. Only the females, which are far more difficult to differentiate, showed up, but we did figure them out in the end. Lawrence’s Goldfinches were another new species, and though Abby got a look at a distinctive male earlier on, I was left to sort out the plumage details on the females at the feeder. Also present were two birding brothers who would split up and communicate via walkie-talkie, which we found very amusing. “Good look on the Vermilion Flycatcher here, come over to the cottonwoods and find me.”
We had a decent drive to accomplish today, so we left in the early afternoon (though not as early as we should have) and made our way up toward the Kern River Valley. On the way we stopped at a pizzeria and ate hamburgers, which tasted a little like meatball. Abby exercised the “Italian” option on hers, meaning it came on garlic bread. Eventually, we arrived at Red Rock State Park. It’s quite windy and a lot colder up here (now that we’re no longer 200-plus feet below sea level, as at the Salton Sea). Go figure. I fear that on the rest of the trip we’re going to have to be more conscious of the elevation changes, since there’s still snow in a lot of the high places where we’re headed, in Northern California and the Pacific Northwest. We’ve gotten spoiled in the past three weeks or so, not even bothering to set up our tent half the time. During that whole stretch we’ve had a total of two cloudy days, and no rain at all.