Back in the day, when I was growing up in the Midwest, there were always a few “snow days” which precluded school in January and February, March usually came in like a lion and went out the same way, and it was April before American Robins proclaimed territory in the huge Elm Tree next door.  Fast forward to the week of January 18 of this year when the images accompanying this column were captured to see just what “changes in latitudes” means for birds and birders.

By the time you’re reading this column, Common Black Hawks and Elf Owls will be on territory in Arizona, Curve-billed Thrashers will be foraging with their second brood, and passerine activity will already be waning by mid-morning.  Newcomers to our state may think predicting the “first 100 degree day” is an April Fool’s joke, but they don’t yet realize spring arrives on the Sonoran Desert in January.  That’s when these Cactus Wrens were captured, nest building despite predictions of atmospheric rivers heading our way from California.

So, while lamenting the fact that this past winter didn’t bring us any fun vagrants to photograph like the previous winter’s White-winged Scoters or the Cedar Waxwing invasion, I happily settled in for a few weeks of documenting our State Bird in the early stages of its yearly cycle.  Cactus Wrens are certainly celebrated and beloved, but they are so commonly seen that few of us spend any quality time with them to appreciate the nuances of their life history

After I discovered “my” pair working on what initially seemed like a premature nest, I did a lot of research and then captured many images of their daily routine.  Cactus Wrens are, as many birders may know, “obligate” nest builders, meaning the males build dummy nests nearly year round, and these are often used as overnight roosts by their builder while his mate is incubating and by both after breeding season is over.

I finally became fully convinced I had found a breeding nest only when I documented both of the pair coming to it at the same time, and then shots of them actually copulating corroborated this.  Several times the second one would greet the other, working inside the nest, with a full tail spread and much vocalizing that sounded like harsh purring.  The literature tells us this is a standard communication practice between mated pairs, something I had never witnessed before.

Cactus Wrens are thought to mate for life, and most of their daily activity is spent foraging on the desert floor.  Though they consume more plant food than other wrens, in January my pair spent the early morning hours, before nest construction, inserting their bills under rocks, flipping them over, and searching for spiders, moths, and insect grubs.  Typically they worked the same area, but only occasionally did they work side by side, probably because when one found an insect, it ran away with it or the other would try to steal it, something I saw on more than one occasion.

Both males and females “sing,” but if you see a Cactus Wren atop a Saguaro or rocky butte early in the morning emitting their harsh, repetitive “char, char, char calls,” it is most likely the male of the pair.  The female’s song is more subdued and less frequent.  She is probably on the ground close by, though, already turning over stones, and when he has let birders and neighboring wren pairs know he is awake, he will fly down to join her.

This year travel plans interrupted my documentation of the wrens raising their young through the entire nesting cycle, but I observed enough this “spring” to realize two things:  global warming is prompting our desert species to nest earlier than ever; and even our most common and well known desert birds will fascinate and grab our attention if we just slow down and take the time to pay attention.  I hope next year to document my wrens actually incubating and then feeding their offspring.

*Title from the late, great Jimmy Buffett