Chiricuaha Mts trip

Here's a view of part of the Chiricahuas from the winding narrow road across to the other side (from the Portal side through Pinery to the Chiricahua National Monument on the west side).  I dunno, I just took a notion to subject myself to one-lane blind hairpins at day's end, which then meant I had to go way south (because I'd already been north, and what's the fun of that?) to Douglas (border town) to get around to the east side again with two lanes.  After all, I hadn't seen a trogon yet.  A Black Bear hustled to get out of the road as I came along.

I spent Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning exploring the Cave Creek area on the east side of the Chiricahua Mts.  Mission:  see Elegant Trogon.  Mission successful Wednesday morning!  Here's a view of one small part of Cave Creek Canyon.

After visiting the research station (run by the American Museum of Natural History for researchers and for visitors if there's room), I had a pretty good where and how to find trogons and what else of birding interest might be around.  Since the trogons sit around waiting for something to catch and eat, they tend to not be moving but often calling.  I'd read weird descriptions of their calls, but the helpful museum worker's imitation of the gutteral croak was a lot more useful.  Listen first, then look -- that's what works.  The "hot spot" of the moment was South Fork Canyon, adjacent to Cave Creek Canyon.

The road into South Fork passes this intriguing cave.  When I got out to take a photo, I noticed a tempting footpath, but settled for wondering how difficult it might be.  I'd love to see into the cave...

I'd been told to cross the little bridge, park, get out, look and listen.  Here's the bridge (below, viewed from having crossed it).  I didn't hear any croaking, and I didn't recognize any of the bird songs except the canyon wren, so I went down to the creek on the left side, thinking I'd follow it a little ways, pausing every little bit to sit, listen, look.  I saw my first painted redstart, gorgeous black, crimson-breasted bird, and linked it to the call I'd been hearing all around.  Clambering over rocks and dodging poison ivy, I had fun but didn't see much.  It was, after all, mid-afternoon, which is not the best time for bird activity (though another birder I met said not necessarily so re trogons). I tried the right side, same result.  I drove to the end of the road, wandered around, found the trail that follows South Fork Creek farther, and resolved to return the next day, earlier.

Next day I got there about 8:30 am.  Stopping at the bridge, I thought "Wow, those look like giant hummingbirds!"  They had conspicuously blue throats, and the field guide mentioned the unusually large size of the Blue-Throated Hummingbird.  Four or five of them were buzzing each other like a family of pesky kids, paying no mind to me.  I also saw a bunch more redstarts along the roadside and a flash of bright yellow-and-black that might have been a Scott's Oriole (I'll never know).  I parked at the road's end about the same time as a carload of ear-splitting hollering boys and their almost equally loud mothers.  My heart fell, but I sat around a while getting tantalizing glimpses of things I couldn't identify (some sort of tanager, a maybe-vireo, a flycatcher) and old familiars -- creepers, white-breasted nuthatches, bridled titmice.  Finally, the noise abated as though they'd disappeared into thin air, though the car was still there.  I hoped they'd scare the bears off roaring down the trail ahead of me.

I'm sure I walked less than a mile, round trip, along the trail and in and out of the rocky creek bed (no camera, sadly).  It was so pretty, loaded with Arizona Sycamores, lizards, bird calls -- I did manage to identify Mexican Jays, Black-Throated Gray Warblers, and finally got a good view of the Canyon Wren whose amazing call I've been hearing so much lately.  Best of all, I heard a soft, gutteral croaking and froze -- could that be a trogon?  I moved to the edge of the creek bed, gazed into sycamore leaves on the other side, spotted a reddish smudge, and there it was, sitting in full view:  an adult male Elegant Trogon!  I watched it for quite a while before it flew off, getting a good mental recording of the distinctive call and swelling up with the happiness of the moment.  Now I have the urge to drag everyone I know to the Chiracahuas to see the trogons.