Desert Delight: Birding at Organ Pipe Cactus
Southwest Arizona's Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument provides an oasis for birds.
by Sam Fried
In exquisite clarity, I could hear tiny footsteps on the rock ledge above me. As the sun crested nearby ridge tops, shadows appeared on the dry earth, distorted by stones and dead branches. Sitting quietly, having lodged myself under the overhang, I tried to identify birds by studying their shadows, like looking at silhouettes on the inside cover of a Peterson field guide: White-winged Doves, bulkier than the slimmer Mourning Doves; Northern Cardinal; an assortment of finches and sparrows, large and small.
I was at Wild Horse Tank, a natural catch basin in Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. Thousands of years of run-off had formed many tinajas (small basins) in the soft tuff rock, but a harder layer of stone here formed a ledge over which the water cascaded, carving a deep hollow.
The birds came to this slowly shrinking pool in an otherwise parched landscape; it had not rained for months. The small basin was about 8 feet in diameter, but deep and shaded, creating a magnet for many animals and insects despite its present dark green coloration and unpleasant bouquet.
The approaching birds included a mixed flock of Black-chinned, White-crowned, Rufous-crowned and Rufous-winged Sparrows. They fluttered into a small bush adjacent to the sun-warmed rock wall facing me. Then, one by one, they dropped to the steeply sloped edge for a drink.
Above me, the woody skeleton of an organ pipe cactus provided a perch for approaching birds. Cactus Wren, Phainopepla and Gilded Flicker replaced Northern Cardinal, flaming in the dawn light. I never had to shift my focus as the birds changed positions like models on a runway.
Organ Transplant
Isolated in the Sonoran Desert in the sparsely populated southwest corner of Arizona along its border with Mexico, Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument is not a place casually visited on the way to somewhere else. The monument contains the only significant population of organ pipe cactus in the United States and, in 1976, was recognized by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization as a biosphere reserve.
When I entered the monument, driving south on Route 85 in late afternoon, the quality of the light and land forced me to pull over, breathe deeply and try to inhale the spectacular beauty of this virtually undisturbed landscape. The sunlight-burnished peaks of the ragged Ajo range glowed brilliant rust, underpinned by thousands of saguaro cacti, all pointing their arms toward a deep cobalt blue sky.
Countless flowering ocotillos dotted the desert like a pointillist painting. Silky black Phainopeplas flashed white wing-patches as they moved through yellow-flowering palo verde trees. Gambel's Quail scurried across the road and into a protective cover of thorny vegetation. Throngs of Brewer's and Lark Sparrows flew low across the road, following their genetic compasses north.
Like any area with harsh climatic conditions and little precipitation, only certain birds have adapted to breed here, ready to endure temperatures that top 100 degrees on a daily basis for much of the year. Of the 277 species recorded in the monument, only 63 have been documented nesting, with the others as migrants, winter visitors or vagrants.
For nesting birds and migrants, spring comes early, as courtship activity peaks in late March and most migration and nesting activity is complete by the end of April. This coincides with bearable temperatures, availability of water from limited winter rains, sufficient insects, and seeds and flowering plants to feed and help fledge young.
First-rate Springs
Quitobaquito Springs is the premier site for birding here. A former marsh area, the National Park Service impounded the flow in the 1950s into its current form as a 1-acre pond surrounded by Olney bulrushes, dense mixed vegetation, mesquite thickets and large Fremont cottonwoods. As the largest spring-fed body of water on the American side of the Sonoran Desert, the pond and its vegetation attract thousands of spring migrants when they head north, especially from the northern end of the Gulf of California, only 60 miles away.
I advise arriving at the springs at dawn before other tourists might disturb any transient birds. Plan on staying a few hours to wander around the pond a few times and look for birds that appear only briefly.
In addition to offering the best morning and evening birding, Quitobaquito is the only place where activity occurs all day. Birding along the 20-mile drive to the springs can be good, too, highlighted by resident family groups of Harris's Hawks engaging in cooperative hunting. Gilded and red-shafted Northern Flickers are common, and other migrants fly over the desert, ranging from Vaux's Swift to Northern Goshawk. At night, Common Poorwill sits on the warm sandy road.
I arrived at the springs early and approached the water. A dozen Cinnamon Teal dabbled on the far side, while five American Coots jerkily swam around and a Belted Kingfisher rattled out of the rushes, where it probably was hunting the endemic Quitobaquito pupfish. Two pairs of Black Phoebes worked the water's edge from their perches around the pond. Dozens of brilliant yellow Wilson's Warblers hunted for gnats in the mesquites overhanging the water.
Orange-crowned and Lucy's Warblers, Cordilleran and Ash-throated Flycatchers, Lincoln's and White-crowned Sparrows, Phainopepla, Violet-green Swallow and Common Yellowthroat perched so close to me that a binocular was unnecessary. A male Costa's Hummingbird scanned me from 6 feet away, circling my head, probing, buzzing, looking. I felt the kiss of its wing beats as the air brushed my cheek. Curve-billed Thrashers scratched around under bushes, and a Bewick's Wren zipped out to a snag, dipped for a quick drink and disappeared.
Circumnavigating the pond was extremely rewarding. Bell's Vireos were setting up territories and endlessly singing their Q & A refrain. A Cassin's Vireo, migrating westward, paused briefly in the cottonwoods, below a roosting Black-crowned Night-heron. Ruby-crowned Kinglets chattered in the thickets below.
I was stunned when a pair of calling Long-billed Dowitchers circled the pond several times, just a foot over the water and then departed without landing. Understanding their calls was easy: "No mud, we're outta here!" Later a pair of Greater Yellowlegs repeated the performance.
Since this small wet area has been on the migratory flyway for millenia, patience pays off with sightings of shorebirds, waders, ducks and gulls. Evenings are wonderful, emblazoned by a setting sun, as birds come in to roost for the night, seeking the cool waters and the food they offer. Two male Hooded Orioles flew over, flaming orange as the sun drifted beneath the Mexican hills.
Remember the Alamo
Alamo Canyon, the unmarked entrance to which is located between mileposts 65 and 66 off Route 85, offers outstanding birding. The road winds up an alluvial plain, where the soil and plant communities on the bajada (upper reaches) are richer, allowing greater bird diversity and density. A broad and easy trail leads east from the primitive campground and follows the canyon to the remains of an old ranch. Because of more water here, the relatively lush vegetation creates exquisite scenery.
Gambel's Quail, Greater Roadrunner, Verdin, Black-tailed Gnatcatcher, Black-throated Sparrow and Rock, Canyon and Cactus Wrens are common residents. Migrant warblers and flycatchers work their way through the brush and are best seen in early morning. At night, the canyon offers very good owling, especially along the road just west of the campground. Western Screech- and Elf Owls are common, Ferruginous Pygmy-owl has nested, and I enjoyed the deep, slow hooting of a Long-eared Owl.
On the Move
Ajo Mountain Drive (21 miles) climbs through the Diablo Mountains and then along the base of the Ajo range. Although the birding is best during the early morning, the late-afternoon light sets the mountains on fire. Abundant organ pipe cacti line the south-facing rocky hillsides, with saguaro cacti concentrated in the lower areas.
The saguaros take on so many incredibly twisted shapes that they are an anthropomorphist's delight. In fact, in the language of the native Tohono O'Odham (the Desert People), the word for "people" and "saguaro" is the same.
Also abundant, ocotillo explode in crimson flower each spring, even in a dry season, ensuring food for migrant hummingbirds and pollination for themselves. Rufous (migrant) and Costa's (nesting) Hummingbirds seem to be the most abundant species in late March. Brilliant yellow and black Scott's Orioles utilize these upper ocotillo-covered hillsides as their preferred nesting habitat.
Puerto Blanco Drive (51 miles) provides an exquisite tour that wanders through vast areas of pristine Sonoran desert. The desert was wonderfully serene as I started before dawn to enjoy the early-morning coolness and bird activity. Mourning Doves sliced through the crisp air, their wing beats resonating over tremendous distance. As the light began flinging long saguaro shadows across the desert floor, the droning of Cactus Wrens commenced, sounding like a fleet of cars that can't get their engines started.
Surprisingly, Black-throated Gray Warblers and Cordilleran Flycatchers foraged on nearly barren rocky earth as they migrated through the desert to higher and greener terrain. Ash-throated Flycatchers were fairly common, and every thicket seemed to hold a pair of Black-tailed Gnatcatchers. Eventually, the drive returns to Quitobaquito Springs, an excellent place for lunch before returning home for an afternoon siesta.
While I visited the monument, I made several trips to the mining and retirement community of Ajo (to watch the NCAA basketball finals on a bar's TV) and discovered a small sewage pond just east of town on Well Road No. 1, at the base of a giant mine slag pile. Although direct access to the pond is not permitted, scoping through the fence produced seven species of ducks, six species of shorebirds and even a Heerman's Gull. Each visit was quite different as migration continued.
A magical quality imbues desert birding. In this seemingly sterile environment with hostile heat and dryness, the abundance of life, even when transitory, is startling. Whether it's a Greater Roadrunner dashing across the sandy track, a Rufous Hummingbird on its way to the Rockies or a Peregrine Falcon heading toward unknown destinations, birds seem to appear from nowhere and disappear again, in an alchemy of which we are the momentary beneficiaries, left smiling by the side of the road.