Echoing Rosy-Finches

Sometimes it's fun to wonder why some locations have the names that they do.  The names of some locations are giveaways, and the names of others spark curiosity.  I like it when tags are given to a spot and one might have to think for awhile about the title.  If I was driving in some back road in the wilderness and came across a road titled "Mountain Lion", I would use heavy precautions if I went hiking right off of that road.  On the other hand, it would be a little fun.  Sometimes I wonder why people are named certain things or give names to themselves, especially when they take on a title that really isn't theirs.  My past co-worker called himself Wally, even though his name was Anthony.  I still question that quite often, even though Wally suited him way better than "Anthony".  Why Wally?  I never found time to ask him to explain himself, but that dude was an awesome co-worker.  Hilarious too.  People often wonder why the Los Angeles Lakers are called the Lakers.  For being in a city close to the coast, and with a lack of big inland bodies of water, I thought the name was strange.  But for those who don't know, the Lakers originated in Minneapolis before a move to California.  And if you happen to go to Minnesota, you'll lose count of how many lakes there are.  About a month ago, I looked over a location in northern Arizona on birding reports for the first time with consideration.  I had never heard much or payed attention to the location, but a rare bird can spark anything for me and the birding community that I am a part of.  The name of this location is Echo Cliffs.  This is no doubt a cool-sounding location.  If one goes to the cliffs or looks at pictures of the cliffs, it's a little obvious of how they got their well-given identity.  A scream would be repeated like well placed rock skips on a lake although exclaimed once.  I'm sure everyone would remember their name being said in a place like that.  Alright, who knows if the Cliffs truly have epic sound waves, I didn't try it out.  My buddies and I were too cold to care when we went, but it's something I'll have to tackle one day.  But one thing is this, the words "Rosy-finch" echoed everywhere in the birding community towards the end of 2018, and well into 2019.  These names have been driven down south into this Arizona location due to a brutal winter up north, according to Rosy-Finch standards.  Birders throughout Arizona have taken advantage of this rare occasion, going to the Echo Cliffs in a long-lined, domino, like effect.  The frenzy from birders, the flight calls from the Rosy-Finches, and the countless photographs on birding media has forever put Echo Cliffs and these examples of echoes on the Arizona birding map forever for this current, group of birders that I am a part of.

Wikipedia describes the Echo Cliffs as "a prominent monocline in northern Arizona that runs for dozens of miles in a north-south direction, within the Navajo Nation and Coconino County".  As I looked over pictures that some of my friends took of the Echo Cliffs during their Rosy-Finch pursuit, all I could think was that they looked awesome.  That awesome that it would be well worth a trip to see the scenes, whether if they had birds in them or not.

And what about those Rosy-Finches?  For starters, they truly are a finch.  A true finch at that.  They are in a genus called Leucosticte, and North America holds three species to the genus:  the Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch, the Black Rosy-Finch, and the Brown-capped Rosy-Finch.  These three species are closely related, and were at one point considered a conspecific Rosy-Finch.  Splits happened and they were even proposed to be re-lumped again into Rosy-finch not too long ago.  A certain location in New Mexico survived a near heart attack as the suggestion and review failed.  Thankfully, we still have three species rather than one, and the New Mexico business where one can see all three species per visit still thrives.  Rosy-finches are pretty unique among North American species, and are heavy highlighted when seen by birders.  They prefer the highest of elevations and a habitat above the treeline that consists of rocky hillsides and cliffs, steep talus slopes, and open fields and clearings within the alpine tundra near the cliffs.  When I scoured a steep mountain above 12,000' in Colorado's San Juan Mountains in 2012, I was rewarded with my first Brown-capped Rosy-Finches in their breeding habitat.  It was a great, memorable, experience.  During winter, Rosy-Finch species move into lower elevations for food and snow bird hotel stays.  In Arizona, both the Gray-crowned and Black Rosy-Finches have been recorded, and the Brown-capped has yet to be discovered by any birders.  At the Echo Cliffs, birders have been blessed with a large flock of over sixty striking Black Rosy-Finches.  And in the midst of that flock have been two bonuses in Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch individuals.  The reddish bellies and wings of these birds make it obvious where they get their names from, just like those "echoing" cliffs.

From the Sibley Guide to Birds

It didn't take me long to catch the Rosy-Finch bug after looking at the dozens upon dozens of photographs taken by fellow birders.  After all, if I would make the trip, a scan of the flock would give me all three species.  Towards the end of 2018, I made plans with my buddies Caleb Strand, Jeff Ritz, and Jared Conaway to head up north to try for the Rosy-Finches.  It worked out that it would fall on January 1st, a good way to start off the birding for 2019.  I picked up Jared at an unholy hour, and we met Jeff and Caleb down the street.  We headed up north at high speeds thanks to Caleb.  It wasn't too long before Caleb told a police officer about how cool Rosy-Finches are and why we wanted to see them.  The officer showed lots of interest in the birds, but not so much interest in letting Caleb off the hook.  As we drove north the temperatures dropped rapidly.  Reading the temperature gauge on the vehicle, it showed an entire one degree as we got close to Flagstaff.  Heavy snows covered the grounds, and looking into the abyss of pine forests, it was beautiful to see the pines covered in snow.  Echo Cliffs is far from Phoenix, more than a four hour drive.  It's no cruise, but the fun with buddies made it seem like a cruise.  After a breakfast stop in Flagstaff as a "halftime" point, we made our way to those scenic cliffs.

The Rosy-Finches have been frequenting a stop right off the road, as one takes Highway 89-A to the north after climbing in elevation.  Birders have been parking and successfully waiting for the flock to fly in right after parking off road.  Some folks have brought seed and planted seed on the ground to hold the flock's interest.  As the four of us arrived, we walked around in the ten degree weather in the snow, freezing our butts off.  We started at the marked eBird stakeout Rosy-Finch hotspot, and Jeff, Jared, and I walked up the highway for a distance.  The scenery was incredible.  Caleb stayed right at the spot.  It wasn't long before we went back to the zone, and once back there for a few, I remember Caleb looking up and yelling, "Here they come!"

And they sure did come, those Rosy-Finches.  They circled us while calling loudly, and they made several passes before landing on the rocks and ground directly in front of us.  As Caleb was right on them, Jeff, Jared, and I had about 30 more feet to walk.  Right when we started to walk quickly in direction of the birds, Jeff took a bad step and started to rapidly fall backwards.  Despite the sloppy step, Jeff held his footing for a good five seconds of nearly falling backwards before regaining his footing with some epic finesse'.  Even though there were two lifer Rosy-Finches in front of us, Jeff, Jared, and I took a minute to die laughing.  That's when you know when something is funny.  I couldn't breathe I was laughing so freaking hard at Jeff.  Once regaining ourselves, we enjoyed the Rosy-Finch flock who were feeding on rocks and on the ground on the many seeds thrown out on the snow by birders.

Black Rosy-Finches stood out immediately, as they were the obvious number.  It didn't take a long scan to find the two Gray-crowned Rosy-Finches, and just like that, my Rosy-Finch list for North America was complete.  We watched the birds for about ten minutes before the ascended into the rocks and cliff faces above us.  As we took a heat break in the car for awhile, the birds would descend from the cliffs once again to give us another ten minute and up close show.  At times, we were five feet away from the birds.  Caleb noticed one of the Black Rosy-Finches curiously hopping behind Jeff at one point.  Most of the time, the flock either fed on the ground in front of us or on a large boulder face in front of us.  As they flew, they gave their muted but yet loud Evening Grosbeak like calls.

Black Rosy-Finches

Black Rosy-Finches and Gray-crowned Rosy-Finch (upper left)

Black and Gray-crowned Rosy-Finches

Black Rosy-Finches

Black Rosy-Finches

Black Rosy-Finch on snow rock perch

Black Rosy-Finches

Gray-crowned mixed in

Black Rosy-Finches

Black Rosy-Finch

Black Rosy-Finch

Black and Gray-crowned side-by-side

Gray-crowned

Gray-crowned

Gray-crowned

Black

Black

Black

Black

L-R:  Jeff, Me, Caleb, Jared.  Wanted to get the cliffs above us, which resulted in taking picture with sun blinding our faces

After the Rosy-Finches, the fun didn't end there.  We continued further north into the Echo Cliffs area and went to Marble Canyon, which we accessed from the well-known Navajo Bridge.  It was here were a got my third lifer of the day, quite an overdue lifer in the huge California Condor.  These birds are thrilling to see, largely because of their size.  Wingspans of California Condors reach up to 10'.  Crazy huh!  California Condors became extinct from the wild in the early 80's, and the last of them were captured and bred in captivity.  It took awhile for them to successfully breed in the wild, but once they did in 2003, their efforts have increased since.  The last I read, their were over 400 Condors in the wild, and hopefully those numbers will keep increasing.  While the birds weren't countable by ABA standards for awhile, those standards did eventually change once the birds bred in the wild.  The Condors became countable for those who saw them 2003 or after (after the last wild ones were captured in the early 80's, of course).  It was funny for me, as I saw my first ones at the Grand Canyon in 2002, missing that cutoff by a year.  But as Caleb, Jeff, Jared and I walked over scenic heights while straddling the Navajo Bridge, it was time for all of us (except Caleb) to lifer on this bird.

Traveling to Lee's Ferry just north of Navajo Bridge, we caught up with two more Condors, one of which put on a soaring show for us.

We ended the day with a total of 30 species in Northern Arizona.  Not a huge list, but quality always wins out over quantity.  The four of us started off our birding for 2019 on an awesome heed.  Thanks Caleb, Jeff, and Jared for the fun time up north, Rosy-Finching!