West Texas and the Davis Mountains, 29 April-1 May 2023
After the eight-hour-long drive west, I arrived in Fort Davis,
Texas, in the afternoon. Here it was sunny and cool. Fort Davis sits at 4,850
feet above sea level. That’s why it was cool even though I was in a Chihuahuan Desert
landscape. The fort, established in 1854, was named after Jefferson Davis (later
the President of the Confederacy). Today Fort Davis stands in Jeff Davis County
(some things never change).
For naturalists, the attraction of Fort Davis is the 2,700 acre Davis Mountains State Park, whose campground is tucked in a pretty canyon of Limpia Creek. I tented under a shdy cluster of low oaks, which protected me from the fierce sun.
The state park is a bird-watcher’s haven. In the spring,
birders arrive from all around the US to revel in the scenery and abundant
birdlife. Two permanent feeding stations (with enclosed observing spaces), maintained by the park staff, are
busy all day long with visiting birds—doves, towhees, hummingbirds, jays,
siskins, goldfinches, sparrows, and more. Cassin’s Kingbird and White-winged
Dove were the two most common species of the park.
I took my bike off my car roof and used my bike to get around the park in pursuit of interesting birds. Stopping at one of the large observation blinds overlooking a feeding station, I ran into a birding tour group. It so happened the group was led by an old friend from DC, Greg Butcher. I knew Greg when he had worked in the International Office of the US Forest Service. Greg shared some helpful birding intel that informed my birding movements over the next few days. We agreed to meet at the top of the campground at dusk to look for a "staked out" roosting Elf Owl.
The park is very birdy. I was kept entertained wherever I went. A group of Acorn Woodpeckers fussed about in the trees above my camp, and another group hung out near the shower room. These somewhat clownlike woodpeckers were omnipresent, ranging about the campground and visiting the feeding stations.
As darkness approached, Greg, two members of his group, and I huddled across the street from the telephone pole with the woodpecker hole near the top. It got darker and darker and colder and colder, but no little owl could be seen. Finally, it was so dark it was difficult to see the woodpecker hole. Then the little owl winnied a few times and emerged from its hole, perching on the telephone line above the road.
It was tiny—just about the size of a House Finch. Of course, this was a life bird for all of us. We celebrated in the dark.
It turned out that this little owl was commonplace in the park. There was one that called each night by the shower house. Another called in the pre-dawn morning just above my tent. Wherever an Acorn Woodpecker had drilled a nest hole, one of these little owls had taken over ownership, even though the woodpecker, at 80 grams, was twice the weight of the tiny owl (40 grams).
I spent a fair amount of time watching Acorn Woodpeckers return to stolen nests, peering wistfully into the nest hole to find a feisty owl hidden inside. What a curious story! The nest hole near the shower room was brand new, freshly minted, and yet here was a little owl in residence, and the woodpeckers on the outside looking in…
Greg Butcher had advised me to visit the McDonald Observatory
as well as the Madera Canyon Trail and the Lawrence A. Wood Picnic Area, north
of the Park and high in the Davis Mountains on route 118. I visited the picnic
area my first morning in West Texas. It was clear and cold, the 7AM temperature
in the mid-40s. The birds were in full spring song. First was the male Hepatic
Tanager, glowing in the sunlight in a tall pine. His song was reminiscent of the
eastern tanagers I knew. This bird was a specialty of the mountains of the
Southwest. A lifer!
Other birds at the picnic area included Gray Flycatcher, Plumbeous Vireo, Blue Grosbeak, Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jay, and Say’s Phoebe. Lower down on the observatory grounds I came upon a Townsend’s Solitaire.
I decided to drive to the summit of the observatory drive. I
was able to park just below the 107” telescope on Mount Locke. As I quietly strolled
up the driveway to the dome of the telescope, a movement to my left caught my
attention—an adult male Montezuma Quail standing expectantly by the roadside.
I spent nearly ten minutes studying and photographing this special bird. Not only a lifer for me, but without question the bird of the trip, no, the bird of 2023! As you can see from the images, I was practically standing next to this single bird, and it never fled. This species has a reputation of being difficult to locate. I was lucky.
I spent the remainder of the day doing bird photography back in the state park, enjoying my day and thinking back to the encounter with the elusive quail.
By 7 AM the next morning I was packed and on my way west to
Arizona. I had a speaking engagement scheduled for the following evening in
Scottsdale. I took route 118 again north through the Davis Mountains, and I stopped
again atop Mount Locke in hopes of encountering that Montezuma Quail. Instead I
found a singing Rufous-crowned Sparrow and a Western Wood-Pewee. The rest of
the day was spent traversing the desert landscape of westernmost Texas (to El
Paso), New Mexico, and southern Arizona.
My next blog will feature Catalina State Park, situated just
northeast of Tucson, Arizona.
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