South to the Border I

On our Sunday drive down to South Texas, all I spotted was the usual fare: Turkey Vultures, Black Vultures, a Eurasian Collared-dove, Great-tailed Grackles. I figured I may as well count them just to get a running start on the jacanas and Vermilion Flycatchers I was going to see. The excitement was hard to contain, for tomorrow my roommate Samantha promised to take me to a wildlife sanctuary!

Over breakfast the next morning, there was a spirited discussion between my roommate, her mother, and her brother over where she should take me birding. Not having expected such generous accommodations, hoping only to bring my binoculars wherever she took me, I was no help. I could have done some research, perhaps, but that was all moot now. Though they probably mentioned ten different birding locations in the area, the most promising-sounding thing was Santa Ana Wildlife Refuge, which was about a fifteen-minute drive. I didn’t intend to make her drive me around all day, so I curtailed the discussion by heartily requesting that we go there for the morning. Other topics were then introduced.

We drove into the park and within seconds a bright yellow streak with some accompanying black fluttered deeper into the trees next to the parking lot. Great Kiskadee, is this going to be a good morning!

The park attendant cheerfully took our money and gave us a map. We drove part of the loop of the park in search of an inland parking lot. I saw a medium-sized ruddy bird land in a tree and told her to stop. I was suspicious but unfortunately not certain I was staring intently at a faraway Yellow-billed Cuckoo. But I saw a brown back rather than a yellow bill, so I told her to proceed. “We’ll see another one later.”

We didn’t. But before we got out of the car, we did stop and gaze upon a small flock of Groove-billed Anis who were gregariously playing and sunning themselves in the trees. This was Samantha’s first good look at a bird, since they were so close we didn’t even need binoculars. They have the exotic look that made me feel how close we were to Mexico.

When we finally found a parking lot and wandered down the path, the myriad strange songs and calls made me thrill all over. They’re here! I looked up when I heard a loud rustle and a huge, brown bird looked back unabashed. I hadn’t studied hard enough before I came—what was he? He was too big to be a Brown Jay. Finally, when we got good looks at three more of them, I found the Plain Chachalaca in Sibley. Of course!

I am surprised I had enough oxygen to move along the path, because my breath kept getting taken away. The song of a Mexican Carolina Wren enticed me on until I could see him. Several Golden-fronted Woodpeckers inhabited a tree that stood above the rest. Samantha pointed and I saw one of those flycatchers from pages 322-329 of Sibley. He wasn’t making any sound but it would probably not have mattered if he did. Knowing it was a lost cause, I didn’t attempt to label him—just basked in the joy of seeing the real thing rather than the picture. It is a totally different thing.

Further down, several kingbirds attracted our notice and all I could tell was that they were not Western. Their bellies were a very bright yellow. A Long-billed Thrasher thrashed through the trees and stared with a haunting yellow eye.

By now, my roommate was out of sight down the path and my flip flops (don’t wear flip flops when birding) were caked a half-inch thick with the sticky mud from the path. By the time I got to the wooden boardwalk they probably weighed a couple of pounds. Walking down the boardwalk, I expected to see more, since several calls sounded close. But aside from the giant butterflies whose movement constantly twisted my neck, I saw nothing remarkable until we were on the path o’ glue again. Something fluttered down several trees away and I said to Samantha with a mixture of excitement and despair: “I thought it was a Green Jay…”

We walked slowly, peering to the left in hopes of—Samantha pointed. I looked, and for all of ten seconds I drank in the sight of the distant Green Jay. He fluttered again and was gone. I sighed and thought to myself, with that hope that springs eternal within the human breast, Maybe we’ll see another one.

Not knowing how long the path was and wondering at what point our shoes would be too heavy for walking, we turned around and made our way back. A Long-billed Thrasher followed us, singing the most random, ADD-inspired song I have ever heard. I finally found the source of a higher-pitched cooing than the ever-present Mourning Dove: a Common Ground Dove in a tree. In the backlight all I could tell for sure was that the dark spots on the wings were in loosely-configured rows, unlike the Mourning Doves I’ve seen. The cooing matched Sibley’s description perfectly.

A thrush shape crossed the path, hopping into the trees as I tried to get closer. He was very plain and I didn’t know enough to look for specific markings. I think I remember a light-colored bill and what looked like pinkish-gray legs. He soon hopped even deeper into the shadows and I was left to my own conjectures.

We sat on a bench in the parking lot to try to clean our shoes before getting in. I was distracted by a conspicuously perching kingbird and a hawk which circled over. She looked all dark except for the bright white rump and tail tip. Soon, she too was out of sight. I scurried into the car and began poring over Sibley. It must have been a Harris’s Hawk.

As we completed a loop of the park, I saw many other paths and places I longed to explore, but my two hours were up and the heat was beginning to oppress. We went back to the visitor center, where there were birding lists for the park which might have been helpful to have before; they served to confirm that the kingbird was Couch’s and the thrush was probably a Clay-colored Robin.

For the rest of the day, birding was not the primary objective. I followed Samantha around, meeting her abuelas and glancing sharply about in case this was an Inca Dove neighborhood. I finally saw the Red-winged Blackbirds I had long expected, and from the bridge over the Rio Grande I was able to see what I thought were Cliff Swallows—but swallows in general continue to mystify me. There were a couple more Harris's Hawks to confirm my suspicions.

It was a wondrous day: eight life birds and two more I couldn’t be sure enough to put on the list. But if I see them again, I’ll know. I know I’ll know.

Coming soon: South to the Border II