Cranes, compadres & Cochise
February 13, 2020

Although we identified lots of birds while we were staying in Polvadara, New Mexico, and visiting wildlife refuges in that area, my major wanna see - sandhill cranes - were in short supply, even at the renowned Bosque del Apache.

A change of location, though, revealed a whole passel of those magnificent birds.  The homeward leg of our journey brought us to back to Arizona’s southeastern section where we have previously been treated to the sight of the tens of thousands of cranes that winter near Willcox, and we were not disappointed this time.

A major wintering place for migratory waterfowl is at Whitewater Draw, so we headed directly there before even getting to our lodging.  Since leaving the Socorro, New Mexico, region in snowy conditions, we had been in rain, rain and more rain for the entire day.  Occasionally, it would change to snow and once is a while, we got a break through the clouds to spot a snowy peak or a mist-shrouded mountain range.

Probably not the first time we've stopped there, but we stretched our legs at a pullout that has a huge monument documenting Geronimo's surrender to the U.S. Cavalry.  It purports that the event occurred near there when it was actually at Skeleton Canyon, miles away.

The Dragoon Mountains were already calling from their prominent position at the edge of  the Sulphur Springs Valley, our destination . . .

As we approached Whitewater Draw, we began to spot cranes grazing in grain fields.

The dirt road into Whitewater Draw was a wet clay morass after all the rainfall.  I doubted that we could traverse it without sliding off the road, but the cranes called, literally, so slipping, sliding and slithering we went.  I held my breath the entire way, which helped immensely, no doubt, and we safely arrived at the end of the road.

That is when even more fun began: we commenced to slipping, sliding and slithering on foot as many inches of mucky clay accumulated on our boot bottoms, occasionally breaking off in large clumps.  Happily, we did manage to remain upright.

All was worth it when I was treated to the sounds and sight of sandhill cranes floating down to join the noisy flocks chilling at water’s edge.

Perhaps not unlike humanity, the congestion of such huge numbers of birds precipitates a disagreement now and then.  I was not privy to what a specific tiff was about, but there ensued much squawking and threatening behavior until everyone’s ego was satisfied and peace restored.

The marsh extends for a long distance; luckily, excellent viewing dikes built toward the south end allow for lots of birdwatching opportunities.

Among others of the avian variety, we saw cinnamon teals . . .

. . . green-winged teals . . .

. . . long-billed dowitchers . . .

 . . . and reeds positively teeming with red-winged and and yellow-headed blackbirds that were adding amply to the cacaphony of sounds . . .

. . . and many more.  Other birds added to the list there were loggerhead shrike, spotted sandpiper, Wilson's phalarope, song sparrow and Bewick's wren.

Our break in the weather sufficed to see what we came to see.  It was raining when we went in and hailing when we drove out, but a most satisfying visit it was.  Other birds in the area that were new to the trip list included curve-billed thrasher, Gambel's quail and great-tailed grackle.

It was fun to see the cranes and their ilk, but a primary reason for stopping in Willcox was to visit amigos Casey and Fred.  It has been a long spell since our long-time pal Casey has been to Prescott, so we opted for a stop on our way home.  We were treated to a wonderful home-cooked meal at her house when Fred joined us (and I got to play with Elvis, the big yellow cat), and we supped together the next day, when I finally remembered to get a photo.  We were sorry that previous plans prevented adventuring together and that Fred couldn’t join us the second evening.

Cochise Stronghold . . .

I had been yearning for more time in the Dragoon Mountains and the region known as the Cochise Stronghold.  Long ago, it was a winter camping place for Cochise’s Apache band - an intriguing and alluring mountain that begs to be explored.

There is a Coronado Forest campground in the oaks where a hiking trail heads and where the road ends.  That was our intended destination; however, a plethora of humanity and my desire for solitude caused us to turn right around and leave that rather congested place.

A small dirt track through the leafless mesquite brush was just the ticket for my comfort level.  With a beckoning rugged canyon above, we set off on foot to ferret out a way upward.  What seemed to be a semi-permanent stream flowed down out of the canyon.  We were enchanted by its modest trickling beauty, probably swollen by the recent storm.  As we climbed, we crossed it numerous times, rock hopping and scrambling to find a route through the brushy incline.

Our progress was slowed as we were awed by and photographed the stupendous vistas every way we turned.  All around us was one stunning scene after another.  Although the photos can not convey the incredible experience, I can only blame it on my inexperience; however, I am feeling a lot more comfortable with the camera.  In no particular order, I offer some of my shots.

As gravity dictates, what goes up must come down, thus we began carefully finding our way out of the canyon, mostly still following the creekbed (I only got my feet wet twice).  Because the footing was so difficult, we scouted a way off to the side once the canyon opened up a bit.  About halfway down, we were surprised and more than a little pleased to find smoothish going via a path beaten through the grass.  We can use that next time to get higher up the canyon more quickly and be able to top out.