We had gotten the okay from our professor to wander where we would, to explore unknown territories in search of birds that would supply us with grooming behavior. The professor had given me a map of popular birding areas in Southeastern Arizona, which was basically my bible during the entire course. I studied it and decided that the first place we should go was Patagonia Sonoita Creek Reserve first thing in the morning.
The next day, Scott and I woke up bright and early and headed out in our trusty white van, the Crafty Warbler. We discovered along the way that the reserve was literally seven miles from the Mexican border. There was a line of hills, and then there was Mexico. We were basically in Mexico. It took awhile to find the reserve, mostly because we were being assholes. We saw a huge sign that just had binoculars on it, which we thought was hilarious. Who the hell even knows what that means? Binocular store over yonder! For all your binocular needs! I have many of those needs. Well it turns out that that's where we should have turned for the reserve. We reached our destination after backtracking twice and arrived at a desolate expanse of field with a trailer and a lone concrete building parked in front of what looked like acres of forest.
The deal was that, for a donation based purely on honor code, you could spend all day in this paradise. And it really was paradise. The forest was absolutely alive with several species of birds, the air thick with song. There were four different habitats crammed into the area: the desert scrub and gnarled mesquite trees where curve-billed thrashers were abundant (and yet we still didn't get enough data from them), the cool and lush forest filled with giant oaks, the shaded coniferous hollows, and the riparian corridor. As we started on the six mile loop, we were upbeat and positive. We started out in the desert habitat, picking our way around the thorny, well-protected desert plants and observing the warblers hopping above us in the canopy. The day grew later and the sun grew stronger. I realized that I had stupidly forgotten to fill my water bottle, so the remaining three ounces I tried to preserve as we began to sweat and itch. Our throats were cracked on both of us were feeling fairly irritable, considering that we had gotten absolutely no data because the birds were either too well hidden to observe grooming or they simply were not sitting still long enough. We reached the oaks and felt relief from the sudden burst of sunlight. We started seeing more grooming activity, enough to boost our spirits somewhat. I gave Scott the last bit of my water, since I'm a human camel (or like to think that I am) and felt like I could go without. We encountered a few other birders who told us that they had seen javelinas, a mother and her babies, just a few moments ago. We heard them crashing through the underbrush, but unfortunately did not see them.
We exited the oak forest, excited due to our 43 seconds of preening data from a bridled titmouse, and encountered a large, golden field. As we cautiously walked into the open (I always think of Bambi before I enter an open space), a Vermillion Flycatcher flew to the signpost a few feet in front of us. I had just been talking about how I wanted to see one only minutes ago, so I spazzed a little bit in excitement. They're one of my favorite birds.
The picture isn't mine, but gorgeous right? We watched this male and his female flit around the field for a good half hour as we rested in some shade, reclining in the tall grass. The area is known for its Gray Hawk population as well, which is another beautiful bird.
As we were sitting there, we saw some huge, black silhouettes swooping down toward some trees surrounded our clearing. Scott lunged for the binoculars around my neck, practically strangling me as he pulled them to his eyes and exclaimed, "I THINK THEY'RE GRAY HAWKS" However, the hawks had already dispersed by the time he got around to giving my back the binos. Typical.
We resumed our journey around the loop and reached the riparian corridor, which was arguably the best part of the entire place. We reached a concrete overhang that overlooked a large portion of what would have been the creek during the wet season. Still feeling exhausted and overheated, we rested again in the shade of the tall aspens and watched two stink bugs mate and then become trapped in a spider web. Tragic. The cool part about the riparian corridor was that, since it was not an actual creek, it was just a river of bright green flowing through the sages and yellows of the surrounding plant life. We concluded that it was coming from a ground-spring, a well of water directly below the ground the supplied it with fresh, untainted water from the earth. It flowed through the trees and ran adjacent to the pathway leading around the loop. After trying to catch some lizards and watching the stink bugs some more, we decided we should probably resume trying to gather some data.
We waltzed down the pathway, feeling a little bit better due to our rests, but still incredibly dehydrated. We gathered a little bit more data before I was distracted by the spring peeping through the trees, tempting me. I was really wondering if there was actual water pooling at the roots of the curly, green plants, or if it was simply mud. I slipped off my shoes and stepped into the green and immediately felt COMPLETELY refreshed. There was a good foot of cool, clear water slowly trickling through the bright greenery.
I wanted to show that the water was throwing glimmering stars of light around.
Ridiculous grins slowly spread across both our faces as we waded in the water. It felt so unbelievably good in contrast with the hot sun and the fact that we were both, at this point, delirious with dehydration (seriously, we just giggled for a good chunk of time between 11 AM and 4 PM). We waded in it for awhile, marveling at how good we felt and how much we wanted to just trek through the creek to watch birds. We eventually decided to exit the creek and continue down the trail. After we got out of the spring, we were both flabbergasted at how good we felt. We were both doing nothing but smiling as soon as we resumed our walk and got more data. We were both amazed and concluded that the spring had restorative powers. We saw another open patch further down the way and waded in that as well. Scott dared me to drink the water, considering that it was clean and straight from the ground. I took my chances, cupped my hands, and drank straight from the stream. It was so cool. We more grudgingly left this time around, and the next time I saw an opportunity to leap into the stream and did it more out of necessity than anything else, beelining straight into the water.
We finally reached the end of the loop and left to get some much needed food and water. Cue us ending up at a hole in the wall cowboy bar seated beneath the best painting I have ever seen in my life. It involved a woman bathing in a tiny metal tub (which resulted in us discussing the best way one would bathe in such a tub), with a mexican man looking through her open window. Leering at her. Framed in a bamboo frame. EPIC.
On the way back from the reserve, we were stopped by border patrol. We had debated purchasing ponchos and sombreros to commemorate our journey to basically Mexico, but were glad we didn't. Also we were glad we didn't steal the aforementioned painting and hide it in some drug hiding panel in our car.
That day was so amazing, it makes me grin just thinking about it. We had so many awesome adventures.
