Last night, Dave Jasper and I joined Gerry, Peter, and their friends from the West Midland and West Sussex bird clubs in Britain, in search of two of the special owls of Cave Creek Canyon––the Whiskered Screech Owl (a denizen of Mexico’s oak-pine forests, which barely reaches the US) and the Elf Owl (imagine a lilliputian owl the size of a sparrow!).
The sycamores around the Portal post office are a traditional territory of Elf Owls, with generations of owls at that site having entertained and amazed generations of birders. This year we have a quandary. Last winter’s storms broke off the branch which sheltered the most recently-used nest cavity. We have not known, until now, which cavity the Elf Owls would choose next for their chick-rearing.
As we approach the area at dusk, the Elf Owls are already vocalizing, and Dave and I home in on their calls. An owl drops from a high cavity in a nearby sycamore, and we can see the female’s tiny visage at the new nest entrance. The male quickly returns to give her prey, most likely an insect he has caught.
This new nest isn’t quite as close and in-your-face as last year’s, but it’s easily visible from a public area, and thankfully not on the back side of the trunk. (These owls are quite used to seeing people, and not in the least fazed by their celebrity. The proof is in the owlets that fledge each year.) So, in Portal, the season’s nightly Elf Owl show begins!
We continue up into Cave Creek Canyon to look for the Whiskered Screech Owls. Their habitat overlaps a bit with that of Western Screech Owls. The Whiskereds are usually higher in the canyon. When we arrive at a stopping point, we hear the Whiskereds as soon as we step out of the van. This territory, too, is familiar: it has also been used by generations of owls. I’ve never seen this nest, but Dave knows the nest site from his years of helping Helen Snyder to comb the canyon for owl nests––research that established Cave Creek Canyon as the place with the highest known density of nesting raptors in North America, about five times the density of the Snake River Birds of Prey Area in Idaho.
Soon Dave’s flashlight (AKA torch to the Brits) catches the gleam of eyeshine from the calling Whiskered Screech Owl, and the group enjoys a lingering look at the lovely little owl, his beak clearly greenish-yellow instead of having the blackish cast of a Western Screech Owl’s bill.
The magic continues with an unproductive stop for Common Poor-wills, but with a magnificent field of stars overhead, here under some of the darkest skies in North America.
I am also impressed anew upon seeing Dave’s skills, acquired through years of guiding all the kids at Camp Chiricahua, applied so effectively to adults. (Hey––I fell into line! And so did the owls!)