Mike in the Wild

Recognizing the call of an individual bird species is an exciting breakthrough in a birder's favorite pastime.  I can't count the number of times the metallic toot of a pair of cardinal's beckoned me from the house into my Phoenix backyard this past winter.  Just last weekend a much less familiar call - more of a quick, double-chortle than a tweet - quickly drew my attention to the other side of my Prescott home's screen door.  There I spied a male summer tanager nibbling at the suet feeder.  But not all sounds associated with birding are as alluring.  Window strikes are often cited as one of the leading causes of bird deaths, and, unfortunately, I've got firsthand experience with this occurrence.  Just two weeks ago, while busily typing on my computer in Phoenix, a thud over my shoulder startled me from my work, reminding me that my own garden and home might be an unwitting killer.   Outside my office window, splayed on the patio, an Abert's towhee writhed

With temperatures forecasted close to 100 degrees Fahrenheit this week, there's no doubt that spring has arrived in the deserts of Arizona.  Another sure sign of the season's arrival are the palo verde trees' bright yellow blossoms speckling the clear blue skies.  And migrating birds are arriving from points south, with some just passing through the Grand Canyon State and others staying to breed. It's hard to say exactly when this annual ritual begins, but it might start when orioles show up in the southern half of the state like has been happening for almost a month now.  On Easter Sunday, I noticed a black-chinned hummingbird feeding off a fairy duster plant in my Phoenix neighborhood.  He's most likely on his way to the mountains and river valleys in northern Arizona and beyond.   In my own backyard the "who cooks for you" vocalizations of the just-arrived white-winged doves have replaced the softer trills of white-crowned sparrows that have just fl

Late last year I wrote about scattering seeds in my Phoenix backyard in order to attract some neighborhood birds, in particular a couple of northern cardinals.  From November until very recently this showy pair made regular, frequent visits to feed on the sunflower seeds that I laid a few at a time on my block wall or that I tossed among succulents in a long, raised planter.   I had figured out early in the year that these birds liked that seed and didn't live exclusively on the millet and other tiny grains that served as the basis for most generic bird seed blends.  As a result I was able to keep the more common and much more numerous house sparrows, house finches and mourning doves to a minimum by providing the sunflower seeds in very limited quantities to my unique and welcome guests.   The cardinal seems quite adept at eating the sunflower seed, as it synchronizes  its large beak and dexterous tongue to  crack open the shell in its mouth, discharges the casing, and swallows

Besides the bald eagle, no bird is more associated with the United States than the turkey.  After all, we have a national holiday, Thanksgiving Day, that while not actually dedicated to the bird, is renowned for the accompanying feast that serves it stuffed and roasted, headless on a platter.  And it is a popular myth that one of our founding fathers, Benjamin Franklin, prefered the turkey over the eagle as the national symbol of the new republic.   More factual is that the turkey has an historic range that covers much of North America, not just the eastern seaboard.  The Pilgrims in New England weren't the only humans to dine on this fowl, as much earlier residents, especially those in central Mexico, domesticated it for consumption centuries before the Mayflower landed on Plymouth Rock.  But in all too typical fashion, mainly white settlers over hunted this game bird, extirpating it from much of the continent. However the turkey is such a popular game animal that it has sin

Wildlife is everywhere, especially in your home.  Take a close look at your bathroom floor a few days after you've cleaned it and I guarantee you'll see a gnat or a silverfish or maybe something worse: don't panic, just call the exterminator, or scrub better next time.  Fortunately there is a much more welcome variety of animals outside our doors and windows, often right in our own backyards.  Thanks to landscaping and feeders, countless birds use the trees and bushes around our homes as dining rooms, if not full-time residences. Many of the native birds that I frequently see in the desert - often far from Phoenix' bustling highways, near dirt roads and along trails in unspoiled parkland - are the same species visiting my backyard and neighborhood, even though the flora is quite different and mostly non-native.  Maybe on a break from foraging in the saguaro cactus forests and mesquite tree groves, Gila woodpeckers, curve-billed thrashers and northern cardinals join mo