The Whispering Skies of Arizona

the Whispering Thies of Arizona

If you could hold the globe of the Earth in your hands...and, looking upon the north polar regions, see the pristine white cap of arctic snow creep slowly downward ...and preceding that, the burnished golds of autumn etch into the dark robe of summer's green... you would be inescapably caught up in the splendid beauty of the Creator's plan.

And, if you watched with particular care, you would see a shimmering filagree of migrating bird life - the lowering hem of winter's mantle - flowing down around the full curve of the globe... awaiting the call of spring when it then becomes the gathered lace of summer's wealth drawing the green richness back up over the Earth.

Since the beginning of recorded human awareness, ness, the passage of waterfowl over the land became a part of folklore. The migration flights heralded the change of seasons... the peak moments of human life: when the results of summer's labors were gathered into barns and tools put up and backs put to rest; then again the renewal of hope in the spring, and a new surge of energy to survive.

If, too, while you held the globe, you were conscious of distances, you would be astounded to realize the phenomenal ranges of the journeys undertaken by these delicate assemblages of flesh and feather. A few ounces of bluewing teal flies from Great Slave Lake to the marshlands of central Brazil. Three ounces of sanderling travels from northern Greenland to Tierra del Fuego or from Siberia to the Cape of Good Hope - not counting the meanderings to find food, or the push and pull of storms, or the man-made hazards which harass the wanderers. Then, back again.

The flyway through Arizona begins primarily in the prairie pothole country of Central Canada. The migratory waterfowl are guided down this part of the Pacific Flyway to their winter homes by the streams and wetlands of this marvelous state.

These great treks buoyed on the nebulous waves of air are common to many kinds of birds. Our story focuses on the waterfowl and shorebirds. And their story is linked fatefully to the wetlands of the world.

Ducks, geese, swans and shorebirds cleave the autumn air with a special kind of excitement, linking pond to marsh, stream to lake, lake to seashore, and the whole to the soul of man. Catching sunlight, these waters flash back the brilliant beauty of God's grace, and the wetlands, linked by silver streams, become the precious jeweled clusters set in the sun's lavaliere. And it's all ours.

One such priceless cluster is the region called Arizona. It is a way station for many migrants, and the full winter home for many more.

Historically, central Arizona was an important flyway. The confluence of the Salt, Gila, Hassayampa and New rivers and the Centennial Wash west of Phoenix funneled massive waves of waterfowl to meet the migration down the Colorado River basin. Early explorers of Arizona told of nights made sleepless by the clamor of waterfowl flying along the watercourses.

Progress, of course, has radically changed this. Although remnants of the great throngs of ducks and geese still ply the ancient routes, they are compelled to search out the last remaining fragments of habitat. These fragments are now so enormously precious that the mind refuses to grasp the appalling alternative if they, too, are lost.

There is cause for concern, though, because bureaus of the United States government, until recently, seemed determined to remove every last vestige of natural growth and beauty from many living streams on continental America. And, in Arizona, they have included a lot of dry washes and intermittent streams as well.

Because of established precedents, watersalvaging flood control is still accomplished only in the most sterile of engineering approaches. This is not malicious. It's simply a machine solution to a quantitative problem...so many bulldozers to move so many cubic yards of earth of a specific gradient.

The Audubon Society heroically documents these appalling rapes of natural beauty. Other vital nature societies strike out in anguish at the concept of being blind to everything but the very important but myopically conceived objective of speeding run-off of natural water to wherever it is scheduled to go. Every intelligent, thinking human being recognizes the need for flood control and water conservation. But those men in charge of these important projects should heed the depth of wisdom of Winston Churchill, who, in the dark hours of Britain's agony, cautioned those whose tasks were to supply the defenders of the land not to destroy the beauty of England's fair face in the process. The public pleads in the same vein... win the battle against the power of flood and salvage water for human needs, but do not destroy the grand glory of the American countryside.

We can see a bright gleam of hope at the educational level. In 1956, with the inception of the curriculum for the engineering degree program at Arizona State University, the late Grady Gammage, then President of the University, and Lee P. Thompson, Dean of the then new College of Engineering Sciences, recognized an important deficiency in the education of future engineers, and incorporated a required study of the humanities into the students' academic schedules. This marvelous insight into the needs of a rapidly-growing population is calculated to send engineers into the field with a capacity to consider the human along with the mechanical problems, and to find solutions that will enhance the matchless experience of living.

The call of the wetlands to human hearts is today becoming a rediscovered spiritual apothecary. In the ebb and flow of the tide of mankind's quest for life, we are now re-entering a phase of appreciation for the basic gifts of God. Now that the spectre of losing them entirely is alarmingly real, suddenly above the cacaphony of civilization the call of bird-song is becoming a louder sound. And herein lies the salvation of our fundamental treasures. Once again we've learned not only to look at but to see. Marsh grasses, bent by autumn winds, showing burnished gold against masses of grey-blue clouds, have a special beauty to enrich the mind and spirit. Waving in graceful symphony to the changing pressures of moving air, their motion is sweet harmony with the flight of birds. It is a blessing to see redwings cascading with the wind into a marshy cove... swirling to precarious perches on bent cattails...bobbing in sweeping dips...and then leaping back into the twirling fray of November's bluster. Gone they are in metallic song to be replaced by the ringing cry of killdeer and the swift rush of the cupped wings of pintails scouting for a hidden haven.

To those who know the frosts of a marsh dawn, there is an indescribable sense of a blend of peace and excitement. The chill reminds you of your vulnerability, but the promise of the next moment to come keeps you there and warms the spirit if not the bone.

That clean, crystal, cool scent of frost retreating before the rise of fragrant sunlight...a glowing, brightening day changing the crisp, frozen, blue-white garments of the reeds to harvest bronze and glowing sienna... and the joyous awakening of bird life dependent upon this treasured gift of nature, fill the shelves of a man's memory with many volumes to be sought out at other times for strength and contentment.

Civilization was born on the edges of the wetlands, and civilization needs them to this day for restoration of mind and hope.

The men you meet at dawn on the marshes today are from all walks of life. Their reasons for being there vary only to the degree that has the most meaning to them. But generally they respond with a kind of love and religious experience to whatever it is that brought them out of warm creature comforts into the black cold of pre-dawn. The beauty of the changing moments is not lost on them.

In Maricopa County, west of Phoenix, a small amount of habitat which is left attracts flights of waterfowl. The flood basin of the Gila, plotted by agriculture, on occasion rings with the excitement ofWinters From southern Alaska, southern Canada south to Mexico.

DESCRIPTION OF BIRDS MALLARD FRONT COVER

Breeds From Aleutians, Pribilofs, northern to central Alaska, central Mackenzie south to central California, Arizona, southern New Mexico.

Habitat Grainfields, irrigated land, fresh water marshes, ponds, rivers,lakes and bays.

Nest A down-lined hollow among reeds or grass; rarely in treecrotch or nest of a Crow, hawk or magpie.

Eggs Greenish buff (8-10).

The Mallard (or Glossy Green Head) is the species that wasdomesticated by man and is the farmyard duck. The iridescent greenhead is separated from the chestnut colored body by a white collar.Another characteristic feature of the drake is the black curl above thetail.

The Mallard, like most ducks, is faithful to the location offirst breeding. Mate selection is not for life, as in geese, but the birdsmay form pair bonds year after year. Winters Mainly south of the United States. A few winter north toSan Francisco Bay. Casual in eastern Washington, southernIdaho and Wyoming.

BLACK-NECKED STILT INSIDE FRONT COVER

Breeds Locally from southern Oregon, northern Utah, southern Colorado south.

BUFFLEHEAD PAGE 7

Winters Aleutians, southern British Columbia, southern Alberta south.

Breeds Coast of southern Alaska, upper Yukon Valley, Great SlaveLake south to southern British Columbia, northwestern Wyoming, southern Saskatchewan. Also in Oregon and northeastern California.

Habitat Ponds, lakes, rivers (summer); also salt bays (winter).

Nest Tree cavity near water, down-lined.

Eggs Pale buff (6-12).

The Bufflehead, sometimes called the butterball, is a handsome teal-sized duck found throughout the United States. In flight, itmoves like a bullet, generally only affording a glance of sharp blackand white contrast. The wings of this species do not whistle in flight Habitat Mudflats, pools, grassy marshes, shallow lakes (fresh orbrackish).

Nest On dry mudflat or on hummock in marsh.

Eggs Buff, spotted (3-5).

The Black-necked Stilt standing on its long red legs initiallyappears an ungainly sight as it probes the sand covered water foraquatic insects with its needle sharp bill. Coordinated movements ofthe stilted body and long legs quickly dispel thoughts of awkwardness.The contrasting black upperparts and white below make the stilt's identification unmistakable. In flight, with landing gear extended, the redlegs trail the body by 8 to 10 inches.

migrating geese. Being naturally wary, they takeadvantage of the great size of the farm plots and, ifconditions are right, they land to feed well away fromthe irrigation ditches and the few hedge rows whichremain. Hunters undertake an arduous task in stalkinga flock in frozen stubble or in recently irrigatedalfalfa. But in spite of this particular kind of frustration, they speak in awe and respect of the beautyand thrill of a flock of Canadas rising in thunderoushaste, catching flashes of sunlight on their under-wing coverts as they pump up out of range.

Snow geese in their immaculate coats have an electric beauty of their own in any kind of sky. Theirglory is unmatched, though, when they gatheragainst the dark slate blue of heavy cloud cover,with a beam of sunlight full on their splendid dressand the sharp black of their wingtips grabbing greatchunks of air. My first Arizona encounter with snow geesewas totally unexpected. Fresh from verdant andwatered Wisconsin, I had absolutely no reason toexpect to see waterfowl in what seemed to me thento be a sterile wasteland.

It was early November, and one of my firstventures in the then expansive wilderness of the dryGila River bottoms west of Buckeye. I was stationedin a thicket of salt cedar and mesquite at the edge ofthe farm plots. The dark, dead chill of that blackpre-dawn had found its way deep into the mostremote portions of my being, and I had growingmisgivings about being there. I didn't know it then,but that morning 22 years ago was the beginning ofthis month's issue of Arizona Highways magazine.The stars began to fade and a chilled grey lightdefined the horizon. Gradually the thicket awoketo the new day. With the flooding of red gold intothe blue dome of sky came the call of birds and theswift whistle of dove wings. Their dark silhouettesstreaked out of the bosque and over the fields.

In the distance, I could hear the vague, tenuousstrains of a pack of barking dogs. It grew louder andblended into the sound of discordant, jangling bellsrising and falling; then into the high-pitched,resonant plinking of stringed instruments; andfinally resolved into the unmistakable clamor ofgeese.

They came in fairly low...the first sun rosybrilliant on their snowy plumage... their powerfulsurge of flight curving and wavering swiftly over-head. Then they were gone and I came to life. HolyCow! I had never seen snow geese before and herethey were...here? In Arizona? Seconds later,another smaller flight came over much lower...12 snows and a blue. Then came the ducks.

In that first hour of climbing sun and growingwarmth, I saw more waterfowl in one morning thanI had seen in my life up to that time. Curving lines ofducks followed the hidden river channel a mile orso away. I found out later that although the riverwas now dead, irrigation runoff water formedponds and streams in the dense thickets and was aperfect resting place all winter long.

I was caught up with the fire of love for water-fowl from that time on. Although I had known ducksand geese all my life, never had they made such an impact or given my life such direction. I hungered to paint waterfowl with a new determination.

Arizona, with its remarkable configuration of land embracing the full range of life zones, not only is an important way stop for migrants, but also is a year-round home for many waterfowl. In the high alpine meadows, mallards bring off good broods. The pine-bordered lakes harbor families of Canada geese. Pintails and teal set up housekeeping in the northland on occasion.

The fall migration through Arizona is a twostage affair. Around the first of September, great flights of pintails wave across the flyway skies. Bluewing, cinnamon and greenwing teal are seen on farm ponds and natural water. It is a time of increasing excitement. Great wheeling flocks of black ibis swirl in the thermals above the wetlands. Shorebirds in increasing numbers flit over the mud flats. When the rest of the northern world is getting tucked in for the winter's sleep, Arizona is shucking off the warm blanket of summer and is waking up.

Then by October, the duck flight slacks off. The wetlands seem nearly vacant. Except for occasional, local greenwing teal, the skies are empty of duck flight. By mid-November, things pick up. Each passing day, more strings of birds brush the dawn's horizon. Then by February the big ducks are down. Northland storms push them ever southward. The goose reserve on the Tonto arm of Roosevelt Lake rings with the clamor of geese. Up and down the Colorado River, flights of ducks and geese pattern the sky.

Yet, this is not a duck hunter's paradise.

Although there is water and habitat here, there is not enough to hold the birds, and they swiftly wing through to more lush living below the border. Therefore, the graph of duck presence in this area is characterized by wild peaks and valleys. The pond which was jammed with pintails one day will be dappled blue with sky reflections the next and the next and the next...and then the bottom of the sky falls out and ducks tumble in from nowhere.

Knowing about the migratory flights south over the border, a trip to Mexico was rich in anticipation. I had always wanted to see the great winter-ing grounds of migratory birds. The place my friends, Dr. Rosie Romero and Dick Polnau, took me to was a relatively new lake behind a dam in a rich rice-growing area.

The lake is vast and meandering, flooding back into deep coves. The dramatic dead limbs of drowned oaks and mesquite give the backwaters an exciting wilderness look. Never have I seen a more exact picture of the totality of life. Because the destructive touch of man has only begun to strike against the land, the wild creatures fulfill their existence in a kind of primordial paradise.

The air is full of tens of thousands of ducks of many species. The surface of the lake is black with Coots in various places. Grebes and Gallinules explore the reed banks and entangled shore lines. Herons scout the airways along the shallows. The motion of birds is constant and the music of their calling, from song birds to waterfowl, is an unfailing accompaniment to the beauty of the chaparral shore-lines. Tawny rushes reflect themselves along with aing substrate. Their long toes support their weight on the wet sand and their featherless legs allow wading and working along the surf.

In Honor of Ducks Unlimited THE FIRST MINTING OF

THE TWENTY SILVER MEDALLION SERIES OF WATERFOWL conceived by Rip McIntosh IV as a means to advance the Ducks Unlimited Waterfowl Conservation program is designed by Larry Toschik (Honorary National Trustee of D.U.) and sculpted by Donald Miller (National Sculpture Society, The Society of Animal Artists). The Medallic Art Company whose outstanding integrity and craftsmanship produces the Congressional Medal of Honor, the Pulitzer Prize Medal, the Presidential Inaugural Medal was selected to strike this waterfowl series.

In the Southwest, the Least and Western Sandpipers are common transients seen foraging around the edge of a stock or sewage pond. The Spotted Sandpiper is seen sometimes in these areas, but it prefers the edges of streams and lakes. It seems to "hiccup" as it bobs up and down along the stream's edge. The paucity of standing water in the arid Southwest restricts sandpipers to areas where aquatic plants and animals provide the food they must have in migration.

IBIS (WHITE-FACED) PAGE 15

Winters From southern California, southwestern Arizona, southern Texas south.

Breeds Southeastern Oregon, central California, Nevada and northern Utah.

Habitat Tules in fresh water marshes or irrigated land.

Nest Platform of reeds, or of sticks in bushes near water. Colonial.

Eggs Pale blue (3-5).

The Ibis is in the Order Ciconiiformes, along with the herons, spoonbills, flamingoes, and other wading birds. The species which occurs in the western United States is the White-faced Ibis. It can only be distinguished from the Glossy Ibis of the southeast during the breeding season, when it has a broad white line around its eye and under its chin.

At a distance these birds appear black, but up close with direct light, the feathers reflect shimmery bronze and green colors. They fly in long lines or in a V-formation with their long necks extended, heads lowered below the body and long legs trailing.

REDHEAD PAGE 15

Winters From southern British Columbia, Utah, northeastern Colorado south, and casually in Alaska.

Breeds From central British Columbia, northern Alberta, central Saskatchewan south locally to central and southwestern California, central Nevada, Arizona, northwestern New Mexico, southern Colorado and western Nebraska.

Habitat Fresh water marshes (summer); shallow lakes, estuaries (winter).

Nest Down-lined depression in tules or reeds.

Eggs Buff (10-15).

The Redhead is one of the diving ducks and spends much of its time on rivers and deep lakes where it feeds. It sometimes is confused with the Canvasback Duck; this confusion has resulted in numerous game citations in states where the Canvasback is protected from hunting and the Redhead is not. The smooth and graceful curves of the Redhead's head are useful characters for separating the two species. Redheads commonly aggregate with other bay ducks into large mixed flocks, which promotes more confusion.

All this has been accomplished by donated funds and efforts by thousands of people who care. So recognized is the value of this great movement that the Canadian government works in fullest cooperation with D.U. projects. The United States government grants it a tax-exempt status, and thousands of members country-wide give freely of their time and funds to underwrite the success of the program.

The work of this organization has so impressed me and other waterfowl artists that over the years we have donated many paintings which have raised many thousands of dollars for D.U. projects. My own current contribution, aside from paintings, are the 20 medallion designs which were introduced in September, 1972. Henry P. McIntosh IV, of Monterey, California, an outstanding trustee of Ducks Unlimited, conceived the idea and ramrodded it through to reality. The first issue is shown on page 10. These 1,250-grain, pure silver art pieces, limited to 5,000 sets, are available only to D.U. members at $28.50 per medallion as issued over the next four years. The income to D.U. from this drive is projected to raise an excess of $1,500,000. Ducks Unlimited is headquartered in Chicago, Illinois (60666) at Box 66300, Dept. A, and memberships range from $200 sponsorships to $10 and $20 memberships.

When we lost our son Mark in Vietnam, my wife and I started a D.U. project in Saskatchewan as a living memorial, intending to pay off the $30,000 ourselves through the donation of a portion of each sale of a painting to the project. However, the Arizona D.U. committee, under guidance of Pat Nolan, said, "no way." They picked up the tab and in a little more than a year have written off more than half of the cost, and should wrap up the remainder in a short time. Now Mark has a memorial dear to his heart and of lasting benefit to those who appreciate the fundamental blessings of nature for all time to come.

Ducks Unlimited projects are scattered full across Canada. Those in Alberta and Saskatchewan benefit the flyway through Arizona, as well as the rest of the continent. Some of Arizona's early September flight of ducks and geese come from Idaho and Utah, but the main body of the flight moves down from Canada.

When the first snows crest the ridges in the high country of Arizona, the scattered ponds and lakes become staging areas for further movement south. Great activity and excitement fills the air above these marshy waters. Cloud masses swirl with the autumn winds. Great fog banks blanket the forested mountains. Wind and rain and sleet and snow mix with the growing tempo of on-coming winter.

Ducks raft according to species, and at times in highly-selected portions of the lakes. Teal here, mallards there, pintails in that slough, divers on open water. Sounds of excited duck talk fill the air and if the exact moment arrives at the same time you do, your intrusion will seemingly lift off the surface of the lake as these powerful migrants swirl to aerial rendezvous and line out in formations to ply the cloud lanes south to faraway places.

It is an awe-inspiring experience. Such great

It is an awe-inspiring experience. Such great labored pumping of wings and splaying of feet. It is always a thrill to see mallards plying the skies. Their flight is so positive and full of strength that you can never tire of their mastery of the air. Many years ago, I had the singular good fortune of being at the right place at the right time. I was down in the salt cedar jungles that mass along both sides of the Gila River where the Hassayampa and Centennial Wash meet. The sky was solidly overcast: the classic gunmetal grey color that has a glowing richness to it. The sun had just topped the stacked fangs of the mountains to the east and had taken a brief peek between the land and the cloud blanket. At this moment, a line of mallards, seeming to stretch across the sky, came bending and curving overhead, catching the full blaze of the low sun on all their glory. Four such strings came over about a mile apart. By counting 25 birds and then making, a quick, visual overlap count, the estimate was close to 700 birds in each string. They were absolutely silent except for the distinct whispering of their wings. For that moment, I had stepped back a thousand years in time when all this land belonged to the creatures of the wind and the brush lands, and no destructive human hand had egotistically violated the plan of nature. Greenwing teal are the innocent jewels of duckdom. The smallest of the ducks, they are also among the fastest. (The canvasback is the speed king of all.) This is a strikingly-handsome, beautifully-proportioned bird. Greenwings can take the honors for making the autumn season exciting by their swift appearance and flashy departure. When no other ducks are in the area, there is usually a flight or two of teal winging in. They are alternately wary or absolutely without a care. They fly in loose formations or often in tight little groups - like a ball of ducks. When they zip by, it appears to the eye that every wing and foot and head of every bird is in the exact same position - but on slowmotion film, you'll find that this is not so. The optincal illusion is brought on by the speed of their movements and swift passage. This is why the wildfowl artist can neither depend entirely on his eye or on his camera, but must compensate for the limits of both. I have had flights of teal rip by and whip into a landing on a pond where I was standing on the bank right out in the open, and was amused to watch them realize their mistake and after a few seconds of twirling about in their ripples, necks stretched high and eyes wide, burst up out of the water and zip away. At another time at an L-shaped pond on a foggy, cold morning, a flight repeatedly came by about eye level only 15 feet away, and I could see every feather and listen with delight to their low quacking chit-chat as they swept by. Greenwings are as "light as a feather" and land with swift wobbling flight, head high and feet splayed out. They either kerplop hard or swish in with a short cleft of wake and foam. I have a greenwing teal decoy recently given me by Don M. Gulliford of Seattle. It is just about the crudest, ugliest piece of workmanship I have ever seen. It was made in the late 1890s by an Eskimo and was used near the mouth of the Kuskiquim

YELLOW-HEADED BLACKBIRD PAGE 16

Winters Mainly from southeastern Oregon, central Arizona, southern New Mexico and west Texas (Rio Grande) south.

Breeds From central British Columbia, Alberta, northern to central Saskatchewan south to southern California, Arizona, northern New Mexico, and very local in the northwestern coast belt.

Habitat Fresh water marshes, tules; forages in fields and open country.

Nest A woven, open cup secured to cattails or reeds over water and in colonies.

Eggs Blotched (3-5).

Yellow-headed Blackbirds are an obvious and noisy avian component of the western United States. As their scientific name, Xanthocephalus xanthocephalus (xanthus yellow, cephalus = head), implies, the head and upper chest of the males are bright yellow. The sexes winter in different geographical areas, possibly from jealousy among the females. People in the stockyard business have unwantingly increased the numbers of blackbird species by providing an abundant food source in feedlots. Roosting numbers are commonly as high as 100,000 birds and may exceed half a million.

They nest in marsh areas where the brightly marked males establish breeding territories and begin to sing. After a short period, it becomes obvious to the listener that the males spend all their money on clothes and none on singing lessons.

SNOW GOOSE PAGE 17

Fossil evidence dates back to late Pleistocene in Oregon and California

RING-NECKED DUCK PAGE 18

Winters Primarily from southern British Columbia through Pacific states; sparingly in western Nevada, Colorado, New Mexico, west Texas and casually in Alaska.

Breeds From central British Columbia across Alberta and Saskatchewan, northeastern Washington, southern Oregon, western Montana, northeastern Nevada, northwestern Wyoming and southwestern Colorado and Arizona.

Habitat Wooded lakes and ponds (summer); in winter also marsh ponds, rivers and bays.

Winters Pacific Coastal areas of British Columbia south to northern Baja; Atlantic Coastal areas from New Jersey to North Carolina; and Gulf of Mexico Coastal areas from northeastern Mexico to the Florida peninsula.

Breeds From Arctic Coast to northeastern Siberia across Arctic coasts of North America to Baffin Island and northern Greenland.

Habitat Tundra (summer); marshes, grainfields, prairies, ponds and bays (winter).

Nest A down-lined depression in tundra.

Eggs Whitish (4-8).

Only recently has it been demonstrated that the Snow Goose and Blue Goose are the same species. The gene for blueness is dominant, but a slight difference in migratory route, nesting area and nesting time has served to maintain the identity of the white population.

River in the Arctic about 75 years ago. Rescued later from the Skagway Hotel fire, the decoy is a fine example of primitive art. It is also an open comment on the innocence and gullibility of the teal, and I treasure this acquisition with a special, warm fondness: it has a place of honor in my growing but small collection of old decoys.

The eyesight and hearing of ducks and geese is considered phenomenal compared to man. The two eyes of a duck often weigh more than its brain, and their night vision outranks humans by such a wide margin that it can't be compared. Ducks in woodland marshes can fly full power through tangled tree branches without collisions during the darkest nights. The word collisions must be tempered with reservations, because I have heard wings bumping together with a kind of cardboardy sound when a tight flight of ducks were whipping into a sharp turn. The bumping doesn't seem to have the slightest effect on their flying. But I have never seen two ducks bodily collide under any conditions, or fly into an object.

Inextricably, duck lore is associated with duck hunting. It is the prospect of the hunt and outstanding table fare that pries a man from the delicious warmth of a snug bed...to abandon the tender comforts of a loving wife...to steal out into the black bite of frozen dawn...to be encumbered by clumsy, weighty gear... to hunker in frigid discomfort with watery eyes and runny nose with companions equally miserable and perhaps a quivering, excited dog...to await with an unbelievably naive hope that the sunrise will be blacked out by ducks: and then only to leave for home many hours later with most often a duck or two, or nothing, or with luck, a limit.

Regardless of where you are or of what “tremenderiffic” gear you employ, there is no guarantee of success. Yet the lure of the marsh is so strong that men will repeatedly subject themselves to this kind of torture and pay to do it for a lifetime of autumns. To the nonhunter, this is insanity. To the protectionist, this is a crime. But, if you have never hunched down in a blind with a large stand of decoys swinging in the wind, with the sunrise a blaze of glory flaming in the eastern sky, with a flight of mallards or canvasbacks swinging wide again and again over your set... pinions whistling and necks craning...and then, when you think they have gone for good, they suddenly scream overhead: swinging into the wind, wings pumping, feet splayed for landing, sunlight flashing from wing coverts... you have missed a portion of life.

Many a boy became a man alongside his father on a wind-swept marsh on an October dawn. Many a man reached out and held the hand of God and was refreshed from toil and private anguish in the rustling privacy of the blind. This I would take from no man... even though my own enthusiasm to hunt has long begun to wane. I am still thrilled by the memories of great autumn mornings, and hope that no generation will ever be deprived of the opportunity to meet with the great migrants at dawn. In Arizona, the major flight paths are down along the lower Colorado River from Hoover Dam to the Baja California Gulf, and overland from the

Redheads at Picacho Lake

REDHEADS Watercolor, 19½" x 28" Courtesy of Sidney S. Pearce, Jr., Phoenix, Arizona

White-Faced bis

Safford Valley Tempera, 10½" x 12½" The Gallery Wall, Phoenix, Arizona

Nest Down-lined depression in marsh. Eggs Olive-buff (6-12). Many believe the Ring-necked Duck would be more correctly called the Ring-billed Duck. The pale bluish ring around its black bill is an outstanding feature while the ring around its neck is often hidden or inconspicuous. This bill-ring is the best character for identification of the female, who otherwise wears a drab dress.

predators. Only the males undergo this radical molt; the plumage of female ducks is replaced slowly and they do not lose the capability of flight. Also, only the ducks that breed north of the equator undergo this eclipse molt; no other birds undergo this particular type of molt.

PHALAROPES

CINNAMON TEAL PAGES 18 AND 19 Winters From central California, central Nevada, southern Arizona and southern New Mexico south. Breeds From southern to central British Columbia, southern Alberta south to southern California and Mexico; east to western Saskatchewan, eastern Montana, eastern Wyoming, eastern Colorado, eastern New Mexico, and west Texas. Habitat Fresh water ponds, marshes and rivers. Nest Down-lined depression in reeds or grass. Eggs Whitish, buff (6-12). The Cinnamon Teal molts into his bright breeding dress in late winter or early spring. Then in late summer, after the breeding season, he molts again into his "eclipse" plumage, and resembles the drab female. He is flightless for a period while his eclipse feathers are growing in, but their cryptic coloration helps to conceal him from predators. Only the males undergo this radical molt; the plumage of female ducks is replaced slowly and they do not lose the capability of flight. Also, only the ducks that breed north of the equator undergo this eclipse molt; no other birds undergo this particular type of molt.

RED Winters At sea mainly in the Southern Hemisphere. Breeds Along Arctic coasts south to Hooper Bay, Alaska. Habitat Open ocean, coastal estuaries, bays (winter); tundra (summer). Nest A scrape in marshy tundra. Eggs Olive, spotted (4). WILSON'S Winters Southern South America. Breeds From central British Columbia, central Alberta, central Sas katchewan south through interior to southern to central Cali fornia, central Nevada, Utah, southern to central Colorado, and western Nebraska. Habitat Prefers shallow lakes, fresh marshes, pools, shores and mud flats; in migration, also salt marshes. Nest Grass-lined depression in marshy or dry meadow. Eggs Buff, spotted (4). NORTHERN Winters At sea south of the Equator.

full eastand west-span of Northern Arizona funneling down the central Verde River watershed and the western Salt River channel to the confluence in the Phoenix area, and then down the Gila River to Yuma and then on to the Baja. However, ducks and shorebirds are not limited to these areas. Every cattle tank, irrigation pond, natural waterhole, lake and stream in this marvel ous land has its periodic dose of ducks. The electric generating plant ponds scattered over much of Arizona are sometimes black with migrants. City water treatment ponds in the Salt River bed below Phoenix are vital to the needs of migrations. On occasion, thousands of ducks and shorebirds while away their time in blissful fulfillment on these waters. The Maricopa Audubon Society considers these Base Meridian ponds invaluable in compiling their bird counts and observations. Many firsts have been scored here and have had untold value for the birds themselves. Visitors and residents of the Phoenix area have an unparalleled opportunity to see many varieties of wild ducks at close range at the Phoenix Zoo ponds at Papago Park. In season, ducks by the thousands tumble into rest and play, unconcerned by the constant passing of Zoo visitors. Resident wood ducks in tapestried splendor show off all winter long. Mallards, pintails, baldpates and teal moult into their breeding garb and by mid-Febru ary are coming into their peak plumage. The only full-colored ruddy ducks I have ever seen were on this pond. Most duckers know them

Into the Lowering Light of Day

CINNAMON TEAL Oil, 10" x 30" Gallery Americana, Carmel, California RING-NECKED DUCKS Watercolor and Tempera, 18½" x 23" Courtesy of Mr. & Mrs. William F. Wilder, Phoenix, Arizona

WILSON'S PHALAROPE Watercolor and Tempera, 9" x 12½" The Gallery Wall, Phoenix, Arizona