The One, and Only, Chat

For the last month, I've been on a hunt for warblers.  The small songbirds have been migrating through the Phoenix area, some arriving for a summer breeding season in the Arizona desert, others on their way to sites further north.  I've also noticed several orioles, especially the hooded, arriving in the area.  And on Monday I was thrilled to encounter another migrant, a yellow-breasted chat, for the first time ever.

Warblers are in a large family, one comprising 117 species, almost half of which range into the United States.  Orioles are a much less plentiful species with only nine types breeding here.  As for chats, the number is one.  In fact, there's only one chat species at all, the yellow-breasted.  And until not very long ago, experts actually considered it to be a member of the warbler family.  

Needless to say, the chat wasn't on my radar as I hit the warbler trail over the weekend.  I came up with nothing in my neighborhood but was hopeful when I drove thirty miles north to Cave Creek and the Spur Cross Ranch Conservation Area.  Two weeks earlier there, I had encountered both my very first common yellowthroat and my very first Lucy's warbler in an area of the park known as the Jewel of the Creek Preserve.  

It took a while, but after crossing the flowing creek at least four times under the shedding cottonwood trees, I spotted a male Townsend's warbler high above.  While I enjoyed the melody of a male northern cardinal singing from the treetops, the abundant verdins preoccupied with nestbuilding, and what might have been my first black-chinned hummingbird of the season, I was overjoyed at finding one more warbler to add to my list of spring migrants. 

By one count, I was officially up to ten warblers for the season!  (See my last warbler story here.)   I immediately thought, why not make it eleven, and decided to double back on the trail that lead to my first crossing of Cave Creek earlier in the morning.  Goldfinches, ladder-backed woodpeckers, and Costa's hummingbirds were abundant then, maybe a warbler or two had joined the mix.  

Pausing under a lone cottonwood tree fifty feet up from the creek, I scanned the lower trees in the forest, following tweets and rasps that might lead to a flash of motion.  Suddenly a towhee-sized bird alighted on to a tree's branch forty feet away, not far above the ground.  I quickly snapped some shots before the bird disappeared into the denser undergrowth. 

In my captures, it looked liked a tanager or an oriole, with a large, long beak and an upright, sleek body; it was certainly bigger than a warbler.  But with lemon yellow coloring on its chest and an olive-green backside, it was unlike any of those birds I knew.  My photos and an easy internet search later identified it as a yellow-breasted chat, yet another long-distance migrant arriving into the area this spring. 

I was exhilarated by my newest discovery and was reminded of one of my favorite birding adages: it's the surprises that make the day.   And on the warbler trail, I learned, it's sometimes the chat.  

Yellow-breasted chat at Jewel of the Creek Preserve.

Yellow-breasted chat at Jewel of the Creek Preserve.

Male Townsend's warbler at Jewel of the Creek Preserve.

Male Townsend's warbler at Jewel of the Creek Preserve.