Guardians Of The Solitude

Habitat

Marshes, prairies, grainfields, fresh ponds, lakes and salt bays.

Nest

Down-lined depression in marsh or on prairie.

Eggs

Olive-buff (6-12).

Few waterfowl can match the elegant good looks of the Pintail Duck. Its graceful neck appears even longer because of the white bib extending vertically on the sides of the head. The Pintail is one of the most numerous ducks on the western flyways.

A dabbler, this duck exhibits a character which distinguishes dabblers from divers: the former seem to rest atop the water, while the latter sink down into it.

Through protection and habitat preservation of this species by concerned individuals and State and Federal agencies, Sandhill Crane numbers have now reached a population density which allows limited numbers to be harvested in controlled hunts. This Crane is not numerous enough to allow hunting in Arizona.

Because of the general appearance, cranes are frequently confused with herons, but they are not closely related. Natural selection for similar body forms has resulted in these two groups resembling one another.

SANDHILL CRANE PAGES 26 AND 27 Winters

California, southern Arizona, New Mexico and Texas.

Breeds

From the Arctic coast south locally (mainly east of the Cascades) to northeastern California, northern Nevada, northwestern Utah and Colorado.

Habitat

Grainfields, prairie and marshes (winter); in summer, also mountain meadows and tundra.

Nest

Large mound in marsh.

Eggs

Olive, spotted (2).

The Sandhill Crane was once more widespread than it is today. These birds forage for frogs, mice and insects in flat open areas. Their height combined with their wariness makes it difficult to surprise them in their preferred habitat. The head of a standing bird is about chest high to a man.

CANADA GOOSE PAGES 28 AND 29 Winters

From east to west in the lower half of the United States south into eastern Mexico with varying ranges of the five subspecies.

Breeds

From Alaska across much of Canada and south into the center of the Rocky Mountain states and the northern plains states.

Habitat

Fresh and salt water marshes, fresh lakes, ponds and rivers, grain fields and irrigated lands.

Nest

Vary from skimpy depressions in the ground to the more common large bulky masses of vegetation debris lined with moss and down and on occasion in low trees and dead snags.

Eggs

Creamy white (4-10).

This widely distributed goose is the classic symbol of migratory flight. It is spoken of in the highest respect and admiration by all only as dark, drab blobs with spotty white cheeks. In late spring, this unobtrusive duck becomes a splendid burnished rich chestnut jewel with a natty black cap, brilliant white cheeks, and a baby, baby blue bill that he just can't get over. To see him in nuptial passion at this time is a delight.

He sits low in the center of his own ring of ripples, with head tucked back tight, cheeks bulging with a kind of silly grin on that pale blue bill, with golden eyes glinting, and his tail fanned up like a turkey.

When a female is present, he swells up with the ultimate of conceit. He pops his head up and down like a piston going "clackety-clack" and he swims 'round and 'round her saying sweet nothings that sound like an idling, old Ford tractor. If this doesn't drive her bananas, then he runs through another repertoire, all the while ready to do furious battle with any other dude who tries to make time with his babe.

Meanwhile, the shovelers in brilliant costume stream by like aircraft carriers to rendezvous in a tightly swirling mass of great beauty. This slow rotation is a joy to watch, as the rippled water reflects back both their color and the sky above and foliage on the bank. Set to music, it would be a Beethoven symphony.

The varieties of waterfowl found in Arizona are astounding. Here's the list: Whistling swan, Canada goose, cackling goose, white-fronted goose, snow goose, blue goose, Ross's goose, black-bellied tree duck, Fulvus tree duck, mallard, pintail, Gadwall, baldpate, greenwing teal, cinnamon teal, bluewing teal, shoveler, wood duck, canvas-back, redhead, ring-necked, lesser scaup, greater scaup, golden eye, bufflehead, Mergansers and ruddy duck. For two years in a row, I filmed a pair of Ferruginous ducks from the Old World. They are diving ducks, scaup-like in appearance. At first, I thought they may be strange off-spring of some duck hanky-panky, but on the second sighting, I consulted my reference bird books, and there they were. visitors from the old country (I thought). On finding that they were official guests of the Zoo and not migrants I kind of bit my lip in regret. For a moment I had felt that I had ascended the heady heights of making a first in bird sightings.

back, redhead, ring-necked, lesser scaup, greater scaup, golden eye, bufflehead, Mergansers and ruddy duck. For two years in a row, I filmed a pair of Ferruginous ducks from the Old World. They are diving ducks, scaup-like in appearance. At first, I thought they may be strange off-spring of some duck hanky-panky, but on the second sighting, I consulted my reference bird books, and there they were. visitors from the old country (I thought). On finding that they were official guests of the Zoo and not migrants I kind of bit my lip in regret. For a moment I had felt that I had ascended the heady heights of making a first in bird sightings.

Of course, coots are available by the pond full. Sun City was set on edge last winter by an invasion of coots. Glandular functions long dormant in Sun City residents sprang back to life as outright war was declared against the invaders. I don't remember if either side was completely victorious, but I know many a campaigner will rehash skirmishes won and lost over tankards of Geritol. Memories of skidding around on fairways and averting eyes from promiscuous cooting on the lake die hard.

Clapper, Virginia and Sora rails fill their marshland homes with their strange cries, and Gallinules - both purple and black - find their way through Arizona's wetlands.

Of the shorebirds, a beautiful story on them alone could be written. Plovers and sandpipers, snipe, curlew, willets, greater and lesser yellow legs, long-billed dowitcher, stilts, avocets and phalaropes plus the rare visiting varieties that excite the seekers, like the wandering tattler photographed who know it in the field. An intelligent bird, it is known for its strength, wariness and fidelity to its mate.

Classed as the grandest of waterfowl, the power and beauty of its migratory flight and the exciting ring of its call has placed this bird deep in the literature and arts of this country.

GADWALL PAGE 30

Winters West from Oregon, south to Texas and then northerly to the Chesapeake Bay area and full south into central Mexico.

Breeds In a roughly circular area of Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba, Canada south into the western plains and Rocky Mountain states.

Habitat Fresh water marshes, ponds and sloughs, and frequently in the brackish pools and estuaries of the coastal waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

Nest Island nesting or in grasslands seldom near water. Well concealed hollow in the ground lined with dead vegetation, down and feathers.

Eggs Creamy white (7-13).

Not an abundant duck in any area but widely distributed around the world. Since it is the only dabbler with a distinctive white wing patch it is easy to identify in flight, but on the water or land it is often confused with female Pintails or Baldpates.

WHISTLING SWAN PAGES 30 AND 31

Winters Southern Alaska through Pacific states to southern California; also in Great Basin, Lower Colorado River, and New Mexico.

Breeds From the Arctic Coast south to the Alaskan Peninsula and barren areas of Canada.

Habitat Tundra (summer); lakes, large rivers, bays, estuaries and fields (winter).

Nest Hummock on an island or margin of tundra pool.

Eggs White, becoming brown stained (4-5).

Swans are the largest of the waterfowl. Of the seven species of swans in the world, all are white except the Black Swan of Australia and the Black-necked Swan of South America.

Bones of the Whistling Swan were not uncommon findings in kitchen-middens from midwestern Indian ruins. These large birds would provide a substantial amount of protein for a settler or Indian family.

WHITE-FRONTED GOOSE PAGE 31

Winters Along the Pacific coast south from Oregon to central Mexico and along the Gulf of Mexico in the coastal regions of Texas and Louisiana.

Breeds Circumpolar. For the North American Continent it nests in northern Alaska and the western arctic rim of Canada and the west coastal areas of Greenland.

Habitat Fresh water lakes, marshes and bays. Grain fields, grass lands, and woodland lakes where beechnuts and acorns are found.

by Dr. Robert Witzeman of the Maricopa Audubon Society.

What would make the absence of birds important to the casual observer? Well, it is kind of like a world without music or art, or like an expensive suit and shirt without a tie. Something vital is missing. A marsh without waterfowl is a strangely empty place. The wind pushing and bending the reeds becomes a kind of nothing...motion without life... forbidding and melancholy. But complete the picture: Put in yellowheaded blackbirds bobbing like acrobats on the bent limbs of windblown salt cedar... Great Blue herons in stately passage over the tule banks...egrets stalking their reflections in a protected cove...marsh wrens and redwings... and the swift flight of teal hissing on bent wings, whipping to a flashy landing on the wavelets...and now the marsh is alive.

Birds are the wind instruments of nature's symphony. From the cries pealing from their throats to the winds singing across their pinions, birds orchestrate the soul of nature.

Waterfowl especially score the crescendos of music that lift the spirit of man in strange and wonderous ways. Even in the off-seasons, when the marsh is nearly silent, the simple promise of the wildfowl's return keeps the harmonies humming.

About 10 years ago, nature decided that Arizona was ready for another good drenching, as it had several times in the recorded past. Only Arizona was no longer ready to receive it.

However, nature ignored that, and the rains came. After soaking the upper ground layers offand-on for four days, the saturation was complete. Then it settled down to rain in earnest. Arizona hills "shed water like a duck?" Normally dry feeder washes became torrents, main channels turned into turbulent rapids, and the historic flood plain of the Salt and Gila rivers through Phoenix and the west resumed their historic role. Vast "Lake Misery" spread out over years of "progress"

In the primitive past, this flooding was a great blessing of nature to the fertility of the land and to the charging of the water table. But in this present day, it was a catastrophe. Modern man built his castles, gathered his riches, and constructed his progress plumb center in nature's storage basin, as he always has and continues to do all over the world.

Now, instead of prayers of thanksgiving for the gifts of God's bounty rose cries of anguish and "disaster area" claims. The only rejoicing came from on high when clouds of ducks and geese descended from their migratory journeys and set up housekeeping. Flooded grain fields were the promised land-no sense in pooping on down to Mexico.

When the clouds finally sniffed back their last drops, any view from high ground was awe-inspiring. A group of us mulled over the prospects of a day with the ducks, and reconnoitered a route to a likeable spot and set out.

Dead black early morning found us pushing a decoy-laden boat out into a vast shallow lake crested with plumes of ripe sorghum. The air, still heavy with moisture, was freezing to everything it touched until, with the growing light of day, we could almost watch brittle stalks of grass and clumps of tumbleweed turn into objects of encrusted beauty.

The cold penetrated our most protective garments. Only the hard work of inching the boat through clinging gumbo to where it would float brought any comforting warmth. The only creature in absolute bliss was the black Labrador retriever who splashed joyously through the tinkling, thin splinters of filmy ice forming in the shallows.

When light grew to where we could see for any distance, it turned from blue-grey to glowing crimson. The low overcast sky was now being mirrored in the polished glass of the water. Rapidly the color changed to luminous gold, until the sky and water were charged with light energy. As our boat floated free, we were suspended in a dawn of fluorescent orange and violet shadows. The ripples of our activity were an undulating tapestry of heartstopping glory.

Through the mist above, a swift rush of wings turned into a dense flight of pintails suffused with sunrise color, plunging through the sky to land in their own images in the molten gold of the far side of the field.

All through the day, great flights of pintails, mallards, widgeon and teal coursed over the flooded fields. With no real need to decoy in, we had very slow pickings in spite of the great bounty of ducks. The solid overcast broke up into ragged puffs of cream as daylight grew. Clear sky became the richest, purest of deep blue. By mid-morning, great monuments of cumulous floated on an unseen layer of air, their bottoms reflecting the color of the water and the desert mountains over which they hung.

By noon, we were ringed by growing thunderheads which, when the water was calm, were reflected with perfection so we could look 30,000 feet up and 30,000 feet down. Across this panorama of giant air sculpture, strings and clumps of waterfowl plied back and forth. One long row of dots, wavering over the river basin, came closer and closer until it resolved into Canada geese. On they came, powerful in sound and sight, swinging high enough out of range over our decoys in a thrilling pass. Their great voices filling the air, necks straining, strong pinions bending down on the stroke, they curved past overhead and deliberately, without hesitation, dropped in for a landing among the flooded mesquite 300 yards away. They knew about that place. They knew no man could break through that thorny-limbed entanglement. So, in perfect security, they loafed all the rest of the day while we listened in frustration and pleasure to their ringing gossip.

At sundown, we worked our way back. It was black night again by the time I got home, and I can't remember ever having been so fatigued and yet so charged with the glory of a great day.

The floodwaters swiftly ran off. By next summer's end, the only signs of flood were a shallow creek and some long ponds in the deeply-scouredriver bottom. That fall, long strings of waterfowl coursed overhead in dismay at the disappearance of paradise and flew on to other known luxuries below the border.

In late September, I had a chance to explore the Gila River channel from Tower's Butte west of Buckeye to the silted-in Gillespie Dam. The splendid artistry of nature in action was evident all around. Great sweepings of sand bars gleamed in the sun. The flowing water was clear, shallow and varying in width, and curved away on its journey in such superb archings as to be unmatched by anything man-made anywhere.

The sifting and sorting power of flowing water is the finest tuned system of its kind. Where swift currents passed over ridges of bedrock, mosaics of colored stones were laid below them in a perfection no artist could achieve. These offerings blended into coarse, polished gravel, then into flowing scarves of sand, and finally yielded to table-flat reaches of clay. These moist flats were patterned with rows of stitchery where shorebirds bowed and curtsied in their busy wanderings along the water's edge. Hawks wheeling in the sky above could follow better than I the precise trails of coyote, raccoon and deer that criss-crossed the open spaces.

Here and there, coils of tangled barbed wire and splintered posts caught in the wild, twisted roots of upturned mesquite told of desolation to the stream-edge farmers who lost this battle. But in time, their fields would be redetermined until the next inevitable engagement.(The battle was rejoined this last fall by a disasastrous flood. Highland watersheds, stripped of their cover by the works of man, could not slow the runoff of the water, and released it immediately to gather in a powerful torrent - and finally a massive flood that wrought enormous damage to any development on the flood plain.) I knew then, ten years ago, that the chance to see this kind of statement made by nature in action might not come again too soon, so a week later I took my daughter, Mary Kay, down to a great bend in the water course. We hiked a long way through loose sand drifts to a point of land guarding a quiet backwater. We built a blind of tumbleweeds and set out our stand of decoys. Many flights of pintails swept overhead. None would even give a nod to our position. When in frustration I stood up to stretch cramped limbs, I saw the reason for the swift passage of the ducks: Too much other human activity nearby had grown with the length of day.

But Mary Kay was too happy with the beauty of the overcast skies, the swift flights of pintails, the wheeling of shorebirds, and the wildness of the landscape to be disenchanted. Everything was so fresh and precise. Even the tumbleweeds that already had set up housekeeping along the crests of the sandbars were rounded in perfection. The change of seasons had started to brush dustings of orange and gold on the tips of their silvery-green edges. A pair of egrets sailed along the cut bank of the far shore. We tarried for a long time out of the chill wind, and during our return to the car, a flight of Canada geese wavered by high overhead. I had instant regrets that I hadn't taken my daughter out