By this time every year I've usually written a couple of stories about the waterfowl visiting local waterways. Phoenix is crisscrossed by canals carrying fresh water from reservoirs up the Salt River and by parks landscaped with lakes. These bodies of water create habitat for lots of waterfowl, especially seasonal migrants from northern climates.
Last winter for the first time in the neighborhood, I discovered mergansers - both the hooded and common varieties - and canvasbacks spending some time on these local waterways. They joined my list of local first time sightings, a collection that includes wood ducks, northern pintails, goldeneyes and northern shovelers, to name a few.
But this year is different. My stops at nearby Granada Park allow me to see a multitude of visitors like ring-necked ducks and American wigeons: they're there every winter. And I spot plenty of mallards dabbling in the Arizona Canal and American coots paddling on my neighborhood's decorative lakes. But I've not yet had a "wow" moment.
Sure, I've see a pair of ruddy ducks nearby, stiff-tailed as they glided on a neighboring community's pond. While it wasn't my first sighting of these migratory birds in the Phoenix area, it was indeed the first time I've seen them so close to home. So I do get a new addition to my list of winter visitors that find seasonal safety in my little corner of the city.
Yet still, where are those other exotic guests? They all fly a thousand miles or more from the north every year, surviving countless dangers and obstacles to get closer to our longer days, warmer temperatures and ice-free waters. Besides the canvasbacks and pintails, I want some teals to move in, of any variety: cinnamon, blue-winged or green-winged flavors of this dabbling duck will do just fine. Without a few more first-time spottings of even a couple of brave individuals it just doesn't feel like the winter birding calendar is normal.
Of course telling exact time by the seasons is a tricky undertaking. Temperature and weather are usually great hints but they vary a lot by location, and historical trends might be starting to suffer from global climate change and urbanization. But the sun's light at sunrise and sunset, along with the sun's shifting positions in the sky, help give us a safe estimate of the hour if we don't glance at a clock.
But I've grown accustomed to telling time in my neighborhood by more than electronics and heavenly bodies. And even with cold nights, chilly days and longer midday shadows, a winter's day at home doesn't feel quite right without a few new waterfowl paying a visit.
Last winter for the first time in the neighborhood, I discovered mergansers - both the hooded and common varieties - and canvasbacks spending some time on these local waterways. They joined my list of local first time sightings, a collection that includes wood ducks, northern pintails, goldeneyes and northern shovelers, to name a few.
But this year is different. My stops at nearby Granada Park allow me to see a multitude of visitors like ring-necked ducks and American wigeons: they're there every winter. And I spot plenty of mallards dabbling in the Arizona Canal and American coots paddling on my neighborhood's decorative lakes. But I've not yet had a "wow" moment.
Sure, I've see a pair of ruddy ducks nearby, stiff-tailed as they glided on a neighboring community's pond. While it wasn't my first sighting of these migratory birds in the Phoenix area, it was indeed the first time I've seen them so close to home. So I do get a new addition to my list of winter visitors that find seasonal safety in my little corner of the city.
Yet still, where are those other exotic guests? They all fly a thousand miles or more from the north every year, surviving countless dangers and obstacles to get closer to our longer days, warmer temperatures and ice-free waters. Besides the canvasbacks and pintails, I want some teals to move in, of any variety: cinnamon, blue-winged or green-winged flavors of this dabbling duck will do just fine. Without a few more first-time spottings of even a couple of brave individuals it just doesn't feel like the winter birding calendar is normal.
Of course telling exact time by the seasons is a tricky undertaking. Temperature and weather are usually great hints but they vary a lot by location, and historical trends might be starting to suffer from global climate change and urbanization. But the sun's light at sunrise and sunset, along with the sun's shifting positions in the sky, help give us a safe estimate of the hour if we don't glance at a clock.
But I've grown accustomed to telling time in my neighborhood by more than electronics and heavenly bodies. And even with cold nights, chilly days and longer midday shadows, a winter's day at home doesn't feel quite right without a few new waterfowl paying a visit.
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| My first spotting of a pair of ruddy ducks in my Phoenix neighborhood. |
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