Spring in the Huachuca Mountains

Spring has finally arrived in the mountains of southern Arizona.  Little flowers are starting to appear, and birds are starting to sing.  Last week I took one of my favorite hikes in the Huachuca (wa-choo-ka) Mountains, up to Blacktail Pond.  It’s a steep hike up a very rocky road, but the views of the surrounding valleys makes it worth it.

The Huachuca Mountains straddle the US-Mexican border, and their geological and biological history make them one of the most diverse places in the US.  Many species of plants and animals normally found in Mexico and Central America cross the border here.  Up to 70% of the vegetation has its origins in the Sierra Madre of Mexico.  So as Shadow and I shed our packs and ate our lunch, we enjoyed the shade of ponderosa pines, border pinyons, Chihuahua pines, silverleaf oak, and alligator juniper.  I set up the microphone nearby, and hoped that the white-breasted nuthatches moving down the canyon would approach close enough to get recorded.

Being so close to the border has meant increased border security for many years (as well as the rare encounters with immigrant workers, drug mules, and scouts for the drug cartels).  The Huachucas bear the scars of both immigrants and border patrol.  Piles of immigrant trash litter remote canyons and hilltops, and border patrol ATVs and 4WDs turn every cow path into a backcountry road.  In the last couple of months, US Border Patrol has greatly increased the use of drones to monitor border activity.  Like giant, invisible mosquitoes they appear to follow you over hill and dale, tracking your every move.  Forget quiet wilderness hikes, it’s almost impossible to get away from the annoying noise.  On my hike last week, of 5+ hours on the trail, only about an hour was “drone-free.”  By the time I got back to my car, I did not feel more secure, rather I felt much more like I was being harassed.

Luckily, during the time I was having lunch and was recording, I had 35 minutes of drone-lessness.   And as the breeze drifted through the trees, the birds chittered and chattered, a few Stellar’s jays practiced their hawk calls (which I didn’t even know they did and wouldn’t have believed it if I wasn’t watching them at the time), and in a great stroke of luck, a couple of male Montezuma Quail started calling just before the drone returned.

I think Montezuma Quail are one of the more interesting of the Mexican birds that call this area home.  Not much bigger than a meadowlark, they sneak through grassy oak and oak-pine woodland.  They stick tight to cover and even call from the ground, unlike other quail.  When frightened, they freeze, only flushing just before they get stepped on, scaring the bejesus out of the poor unsuspecting soul who got too close.  Like most quail, they are quite vocal and produce a variety of grouping and territorial calls.  During the monsoon season, paired-up males and females can be heard singing lovely duets.

A longer version of this recording appears in the album, Crossroads.

Recording notes: Recorded with a Sony PCM-M10 and Audio-Technica AT2022 mic with FEL KS3.5 pre-amp.  Recording subject to amplification and equalization.

Montezuma Quail Copyright and usage info: This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Unported. Photo by Jerry_Oldenettel