The wash runs east to west, the morning sun behind me, but the seep itself emanates from dark greenery and tangled tree roots on the north facing bank. I have been here in spring when stands of Golden Columbine lend spectacular highlights to the reds of Summer Tanagers and Northern Cardinals coming to drink. Capturing that color, though, would require a different season and more water than I am expecting today. And I am proven right. There are no pools.
I am in partial camouflage, and I sit down with my back against the south facing bank in deep shade. Within minutes of my arrival, avian forms begin to flit again through the branches above the dripping seep. I have timed my visit for mid-morning when the birds will begin to feel the heat and start visiting the water for moisture and shade. They know, as I do, that this is the only water in miles, but they are hesitant at first after I have disturbed the natural equilibrium of the site. They too know, as I do, that the resident Cooper’s Hawks also know of this seep.
The first bird in is a complete cipher to me. Peering at it through the camera as it beings to drink, I have no clue, no glimmer of recognition. Obviously a small passerine, it has no color, just all shades of grays and whites with no distinctive features. It takes me a minute before I note the thickness of the bill which leads in turn to awareness of the faint gape mark behind the water droplets at the tip of the bill as the bird lifts its head to swallow. It is a Bell’s Vireo, obviously a juvenile, not too long on its own and unaccompanied by a parent.
The next bird drops from an overhanging branch and, at first glance, looks the same—same size, same bill too large for a warbler, same drab gray and white with no apparent color, and as it begins to flutter and preen directly beneath a drip I remember these birds don’t need an actual pool to drink or bathe. They are using the drip from the overhanging vegetation like a slow shower head, its tiny volume perfect for their size. Then I finally notice the contrasting head stripes and realize this is a young Black-throated Sparrow just beginning to acquire a few small black feathers at the base of its chin.
As I snap off a few frames of the sparrow, the pattern I’m observing becomes apparent. All of these newly fledged young are less experienced, and thus less wary, than their parents and older birds that have yet to make an appearance. Now into my mental rolodex of juvenile birds’ characteristics, I immediately recognize the two young Abert’s Towhees that walk in next. They are larger, of course, and their rich beige bodies are a welcome contrast to the little gray jobs I’ve seen thus far. There is just a hint of black developing in front of their eyes, and one stands directly under the drip, tilting its head upward to let the water droplets fall straight into its open beak, a drinking efficiency I have never before seen here or anywhere.
Still nothing unexpected, but the next visitor finally brings a touch of color, another small bird sporting pale yellow underparts, a hint of greenish above, and some darkening on the crown. I assume, with no certainty, this is a juvenile Yellow Warbler with a prominent gape mark but no hint of striping on its chest. It snaps up a tiny winged insect, drinks quickly without bathing, then hurries away.
It seems remarkable I have seen no adult birds yet, but then remarkable really happens. The next bird in is both totally unexpected and brings vibrant color, combining the two items on my morning’s wish list. But it is yet another juvenile, a young male Indigo Bunting! It drops onto a small overhanging branch, which sways now under its weight, and it carefully studies that odd, indiscernible object in the vegetation across the wash from its desired water and bath.
Thankfully, because I know an adult Indigo would probably not tolerate such a disturbance this close to the water source, I slowly lift the camera. I have never seen a male Indigo in this beautiful plumage, its blue fluorescence lighter than a breeding adult’s, its bright white underparts spectacularly speckled with random dollops of the same wonderful hue. Indigos are not common in Arizona, very localized in their breeding distribution, and males’ plumage often just appears dark blue-black under the canopy of their preferred dense deciduous habitat.
I am blessed!
