About 30 years ago, I started to notice birds. I’m not sure what got me going, but my interest became all-consuming, to the point where I spent every free moment walking around with a pair of binoculars and a field guide. Something I soon realized was that it was practically impossible to climb mountains and look for birds at the same time. Birding is a slow, precise, methodical process, and if you’re looking for or at birds, you’re stopping all the time. It’s not conducive to climbing a mountain, where you’re focused on getting from Point A to Point B as safely and efficiently as possible. I found that the more serious I became about birding, the less serious I became about climbing. I found myself traveling to foreign countries to look for birds, and it was exciting fun, but when I think back on it all, I see lost climbing opportunities. Birding was an important part of my life for a few intense years, but at the end of the day the climbing won out.
This is a story of a few April days spent in pursuit of all things avian. I had become quite fixated on a city in Mexico which promised new birds, ones I couldn’t see around my Tucson home. Even though it was late April and would probably be uncomfortably hot where I was going, the lure was too great. I loaded camping gear into my old Toyota 4WD truck and pointed it south. It was already the 22nd, getting plenty warm at home and promising to be even hotter where I was going, but it seemed like I just had to go.
In 1992, I was tormented by seasonal allergies in both spring and fall. I slept poorly, possibly due to a new allergy drug I was trying, so I got up and left home by 4:00 AM. Arriving at the border at first light, I crossed and got both gas and pesos in Nogales, Sonora. My documents were all in order, so I was only a moment at the 21-KM checkpoint south of the city. The better part of 3 hours passed by the time I reached the capital, Hermosillo, where I bought more gas and some food. I was driving on Highway 15, a freeway which was a toll road. It was quick travel, but the route completely bypassed Guaymas and Empalme. As I approached Ciudad Obregón, I entered a vast farming area. For some reason I no longer recall, it seemed necessary to stop in the city of 450,000 and buy a hat. The peso was 3,000 to the dollar at the time, and they separated me from 25,000 of mine for my new sombrero. I carried on, a quick drive taking me to Navajoa by 1:00 PM. There, I bought gas again. A sign at the Pemex station warned of “No Magna Sin” in Alamos, which meant no unleaded gas. My fervent hope was that that was wrong, that I would find some there.
I had changed 60 US dollars into pesos at the border, but it was all gone! Gas, my hat and 40,000 spent on road tolls had consumed all 180,000 of it. Now I was left with only 55 dollars in US cash and realized I had to get my hands on more when I reached my final destination. Heading east out of town on Highway 13 for about 10 miles, I reached a small mountain called Cerro Prieto. I thought that if I followed the dirt road which wound its way through the forest and up to the summit, it might be cooler there while I looked for birds. When I reached the microwave towers on top, at 1,410 feet, it was still plenty hot, 90 degrees F and very humid – I wasn’t prepared for it. I tried sitting in the shade, taking it easy, but it felt quite oppressive. Late in the day, the birds became more active and I felt more like looking for them. It paid off, and within 15 minutes I saw 3 new ones: varied bunting, 5-striped sparrow and elegant quail.
Once the sun sets and I’ve washed and am feeling cooler, it all seems worthwhile. I felt pretty depressed about the heat in the afternoon, but was more chipper by nightfall. There’s nothing I can do about the climate, and it was my choice to come here now, so I’ll just grin and bear it. I have with me a minimum-maximum thermometer, so I’ll keep track of the temperature each day. One good thing is that my allergies aren’t bothering me.
Day 2 – Thursday, April 23, 1992
It got down to 67 degrees overnight, and I slept fairly well. It was quiet and restful up on the mountaintop. Navajoa was ablaze in lights, while Obregón was lost in its own pollution. I’m keeping birder’s hours, which means getting up super-early when the birds are most active. Although I’m seeing plenty of different birds each day, I’ll only mention the ones that are new to me that will go on my life-list. One of the first I saw this morning was a western tanager. The brush is such here that I’m wearing gaiters to keep stuff out of my boots.
After a good session of birding, I ate, packed up and drove down to the highway, then drove slowly east to Álamos. Along the way (about 23 miles) I saw a Sinaloa crow. Birders tend to drive slowly and sometimes erratically, stopping suddenly and often, tending to piss off the other drivers who share the road. It didn’t take long, and I arrived in Álamos. I had never been here before, but I sure had heard a lot about the place. Let me tell you something about this historic city.
It sits at an elevation of 1,300 feet above sea level, and is surrounded by mountains. It is semi-arid, bordering on a tropical savanna climate. It can get really hot there, and has reached well over 100 degrees every month of the year. Believe it or not, its record high temperature was 121.1 degrees F., or 49.5 degrees C !!! My visit occurred in April, the year’s driest month (they say the real humidity doesn’t arrive until May). The name of the city means “poplar trees”, and about 25,000 people live there.
Álamos was first visited by Europeans in 1540, when the Spanish conquistador Coronado camped there. The city was founded in 1685 after silver was discovered nearby. A major expedition departed Álamos in 1775, when Juan Bautista de Anza II attempted to find a route to Alta California. The great wealth accumulated from the area’s silver mines enabled residents to build many mansions in the town, which exhibit classic Andalusian architecture from Mexico’s colonial period. Many of these fell into ruin early in the 20th century, but starting in the 1940s a number of Canadians and Americans who fell in love with the place began buying and restoring them, and that continues to this day. Mexico has labeled the city today as a place of great natural beauty, cultural riches and historical relevance.
I had no sooner parked by the main square when I was befriended by a local who wanted to act as my guide. He verified that there was no Magna Sin to be found in the city. Excusing myself, I stopped in at a bank where I got a cash advance on my Visa card (they didn’t even charge me a fee!). I felt much better now that I was flush, and let my new friend know that I couldn’t afford his services. I had brought with me some photocopied information on birding sites around the area, and I now set out to visit one of them. Nowadays, the internet is rich with info for birders – filled with up-to-the-minute sightings and a wealth of useful information the likes of which we couldn’t even imagine back in 1992. I was pretty much on my own, with little to go on, and was more or less making it up as I went.
After a drive of 11 miles south of Álamos, I arrived at a village known as Ranchería on the banks of the Río Cuchujaqui. It wasn’t an impressive setting, and it was hot! Nevertheless, I did see some new birds: the magpie jay, a spectacular bird which deserves to be on the cover of any magazine; the tropical kingbird; the purplish-backed jay, also a very striking bird. I caught glimpses of quite a few birds I could not identify, as well. It was so hot, I gave up after a while and drove back to Álamos.
Maybe it was just the heat, but it also felt awfully humid. I found a nice, cool restaurant and had an ice-cold coke, then a second, then ice cream, then another coke. I visited the huge 200-year-old Church of La Purísima Concepción (nice and cool inside), then the really neat Muséo Costumbrista de Sonora (another cool respite, filled with mementos of the prosperous mining era of the city). These gave me a welcome break from the heat. Then I studied my maps and notes again, which indicated that a place called Sabanito Sur would be a good spot to see parrots, so I headed out once again. Parrots have always had a special attraction for me, so this outing would be a high priority.
I asked some locals for directions and headed south. Before long, I found myself grinding along a really rough road, nearly all of it in first gear and rarely in second. It took me an hour and a half to cover 10 miles. Damn, that road made the Camino del Diablo look like a freeway! Just at dusk, I arrived at the pueblito and spoke to a fellow who was known as the Comisario. He was a nice guy, and told me of a spot one mile farther in that was a good spot to camp. Both he and another local told me that white-fronted parrots are noisy and visible early in the morning, but neither of them were familiar with lilac-crowned parrots. They also told me that sometimes macaws would fly over, very high up, but could be found another 5-10 KM farther along this god-awful road, closer to the mountains where pine trees grew. Another bird they mentioned was a small parrot, which was (perhaps) the blue-rumped parrotlet. I was excited to hear all of this, and was very hopeful about tomorrow, as these were the birds I most wanted to see. I drove out to the camping spot he recommended and settled in for the night. Tonight there were no flies (they were thick last night on Cerro Prieto), but mosquitoes instead. I’ll be up early, eagerly looking for my parrots. This had been a good day, I’d seen 5 new birds for my life list.
Day 3 – Friday, April 24, 1992
I got up super-early, but was very tired and bleary-eyed. It paid off, though, as I saw new birds: black-capped gnatcatcher; elegant trogon; brown-crested flycatcher. Miguel, the comisario arrived, and agreed to guide me for a few hours – I gave him 25,000 pesos, and we drove in my truck to the nearby Cuchujaqui River. We saw several birds I couldn’t identify, and for which he gave local names in Spanish. There were others, though, which I was able to identify: red-billed pigeon; green-tailed towhee; squirrel cuckoo; white-fronted parrot. I furnished us a lunch from my supplies, and then I dropped him off at his place. The tiny community of Sabanito Sur had a little schoolhouse with no electricity or running water, a very impoverished place. In later years Mexico created the Sierra de Álamos Ecological Reserve which encompassed an area of 20 x 34 miles, including a big chunk of the Cuchujaqui River. The reserve is described as follows: “It offers serious birding opportunities. The river is the most species-rich subtropical area in the Northern Hemisphere. It is the subject of international scientific study and the southern migration destination of hundreds of different species of birds”. Those are powerful words. Perhaps my relative lack of success was a result of my novice birding skills, or the time of year – hey, I need some kind of excuse!
I drove back to Álamos for cokes and ice cream to help me cool down, then went northwest of town to the Adolfo Ruiz Cortinez Dam and reservoir, known as El Mocúzarit. The reservoir irrigates 80,000 acres of agricultural land. A bleak pueblito of the same name sat hard by the dam. After some time spent birding near the dam, I saw, as well as terns, herons and cormorants, a laughing gull, which was quite a find. It was late by the time I left, and I drove 3 miles south of the dam and parked in the desert for the night, feeling very tired. It had been a good day, with 6 new birds for my list.
Day 4 – Saturday, April 25, 1992
I slept in until 6:00 AM, then took my sweet time getting ready to leave. Once back out to the paved highway, I drove into Navajoa to fill my tank at the 24-hour Pemex station, then drove all the way back to Álamos. There were plenty of American expats living in the city, many of whom owned a house which they were restoring. I asked around to see if any of them knew a birder, and I was directed to a Stephanie Meyers. After driving to her house, she gave me some tips as to where I could go to try to find macaws, as I felt that was the bird I most highly prized.
I thanked her for her kindness and set out, driving north of the city in search of a village called El Tábelo. I found it, and parked in the small plaza in the middle of things. I walked around and asked several villagers if they knew where I could see macaws. They directed me to the home of an elderly lady who quickly overcame her suspicion of this crazy gringo, sat me down on her porch and told me her story. She said that every morning, 2 macaws flew into town and would fly from house to house, begging for food. She described how, when one of them would land on top of her head and perch there, its huge claws would be a bit painful, even through her thick hair – she made a grimace, to show me how it felt. They liked fruit and flowers, and that’s what she gave them. Unfortunately, just my luck, they had not appeared that day.
She sensed my disappointment, but said there was still something I could do to see the birds. There was a dirt road I could drive several miles east into the mountains, to a ranchito where a family lived in the forest. Her instructions were excellent, and before long I found myself pulling up to the rustic home. A man came out to talk to me, and I explained who I was and why I was there. He was a quiet fellow, and soon appeared to trust me, then slowly led me over to the edge of his house. He pointed up to a spot under the edge of the roof, and there I saw perched the most beautiful birds I had ever seen, 2 adult military macaws.
The man told me to take as much time as I wished, then let me be. I stood within 10 feet of the birds and studied them – they opened their eyes and looked at me, but seemed unconcerned. The man told me that they were free to come and go as they wished, unfettered. They would fly away each morning, forage in the wild within 5 miles, visit the village, and basically do whatever they pleased, then return later in the day and roost at the house – they had been doing that for six years, and seemed completely habituated to humans. He told me that every year, a group of 10-15 other macaws would fly by, but these 2 never leave with them. To thank him, I gave him a couple of 2L bottles of coke, 4 beers and some apples for the birds, then drove back to Álamos.
I found Stephanie, and we went to a mansion owned by an American. It was agreed that in the morning we would all head out into the backcountry. They told me of a better way to get back down to the Cuchujaqui, so I took their advice – it was faster. After an hour of birding, the only new thing I saw was a happy wren. I looked around for the best spot to camp for the night, but no matter where I parked, I was plagued by lots of bitey bugs.
Day 5 – Sunday, April 26, 1992
I woke up early, and as I was packing up my gear, a streak-backed oriole was kind enough to perch nearby. It also occurred to me that the hundreds of little doves I had been seeing were common ground-doves. When I returned to town, we all went together to the Sierra Álamos, parked and headed up a trail. The heat and humidity were oppressive. Stephanie really knew her plants, and among the more interesting she pointed out were several types of fig trees – some were huge buttress figs. There were many types of flowering trees and vines. Along the way, I only saw one new bird but it was a beauty – a ferruginous pygmy owl, perched in plain view just a few feet away. It seemed unconcerned and sat still for me as long as I wished. I don’t thing we got higher than 2,500 feet, but it was a very worthwhile outing.
Back in town at the mansion, we enjoyed a cold beer and a swim in the pool. The owner even let me call home. When I left, I stopped for ice cream and more cold cokes, then headed west out of town. The old mining town of Aduana had some ruins which I wanted to see (this was one of the places whose silver had made Álamos wealthy), and I spent a while. That done, it was time to find a place to spend the night. I discovered a road that went to a microwave site (much prettier than Cerro Prieto of my first night) and parked in the shade in the thorn forest. It was so damned hot, 96 degrees, that I had second thoughts about staying. I took a short walk and was rewarded with a rufous-backed robin. Later, while I was preparing a meal, a whole flock of magpie jays came by and perched in the trees around me – so entertaining and beautiful! It did eventually cool off, the temperature dropping down to 68 degrees by morning.
Day 6 – Monday, April 27, 1992
By 5:00 AM, I was up and ready for the birds. I saw another varied bunting, flocks of magpie jays, and then, a few at a time, a total of 15 white-fronted parrots. Three of them sat in a nearby tree and entertained me while I ate. Once I packed up, I saw 6 yellow grosbeaks on the way back out to the pavement. I had already decided that today would be my day to return home, and I stopped in Navajoa to gas up (unleaded was $1.41 US per gallon all over northern Mexico).
There was one more bird I wanted to try for on the way home. I headed west from Navajoa to a small community called Jecopaco, and made the acquaintance of a farmer who assured me that early every morning a groove-billed ani sat in the tree by his house. It was already 10:00 AM by the time I’d arrived, and due to the late hour I had missed the bird. Okay, I was done. Now all I wanted to do was to point the truck north and go home.
Between Ciudad Obregón and Guaymas, my air conditioning started to act up, and soon died completely. My windows down for a breeze, I drove 300 miles in hundred-degree heat and high humidity all the way to Nogales. It was 6:00 PM by the time I finally made it home to Tucson. What a day! Once back, I discovered a thorn from the thorn forest (how fitting) had worked its way into my tire and caused a slow leak.
Had the trip been a success? Well, I had seen 21 new birds which I added to my life list. The heat and humidity had been pretty oppressive, though, and that, coupled with the dense vegetation, had made for difficult birding. I told myself I’d do it again, but in winter and with a better birder than myself.