January 13, 2009

January 13, 2009

With our unpacking nearing an end, we took the day off and went exploring. Our first stop is a return to the Whitewater Draw wildlife preserve a couple hours east of Tucson. According to the local paper, this wetland is the winter home for 24,000 giant Sandhill cranes. Last year we visited in April and these migratory birds were long gone. My goal is to get a close-up photo with the field of view entirely filled with these flying birds. As soon as I get out of the car, I know we screwed up again. It is very quiet and I don’t see a single bird anywhere on the water. We walk around the lake and stop to get an explanation from a “birding” couple with a spotting scope. They explain that you have to be here at dawn (or dusk). At sunup, the cranes fly off to feed in the local farm fields. They won’t return until sundown. I am not waiting that long for any photo.

Trying to comfort me the couple points out a bald eagle sitting in a small tree on the other side of the wetland. I am not satisfied as I can barely even see the tree. A little later they point out a very colorful Vermillion Flycatcher darting around eating insects and a monstrous Great Horned Owl roosting in a barn-like structure by the parking lot. As we are getting in the car to leave, we hear birds in the distance and use the binoculars to spot huge flocks of birds soaring in the distance. We stop to watch them for a while. Soon they soar overhead like a squadron of B-52’s and we hear their distinctive honking, a loud and throaty pigeon coo. Although it is nice watching their aerial dancing, these 4 ½ foot tall birds never land.

Trying to avoid a busted day, we drive an hour west to the Coronado National Memorial. This National Park site straddling the Mexican border is dedicated to Francisco Coronado’s exploration of the southwest. The park sits near the spot where he crossed the border in 1540 looking for the fabled Seven Cities of Gold. All he found was cactus and sand. The park is a snoozer. The park is pretty but the connection with Coronado is weak. Our only excitement is the three-mile drive to the top of a local ridge for the scenic overlook. The last two miles are along a narrow dirt road with an exceedingly steep drop off. Aimee closes her eyes hoping we don’t slide off. She doesn’t know I did the same thing.