Grasshopper Sparrow

The grasshopper sparrow was the last bird I saw upon leaving Veracruz, and this painting is based off of sketches I did at the time.  They are another secretive grassland species, but nothing in comparison to the Botteri’s Sparrow.  They are more associated with species of bunchgrass, so can be seen a little more easily as they skitter around. 

 

On the whole, the Grasshopper Sparrow is pretty common, although like most grassland specialists declining.  There does exists an endangered resident subspecies of Grasshopper Sparrow that lives in Florida.  It is interesting to note that this Florida population has a large degree of genetic variability (according to Bulgin et al’s paper Ancestral polymorphisms in genetic markers obscure detection of evolutionarily distinct populations in the endangered Florida grasshopper sparrow,) and the group’s genetic distinctness is muddy at best.  This means that their status as a subspecies is based on (admittedly well-defined) morphological and behavioral characteristics.  This is a departure from the current standard of a purely genetic standpoint of what makes a distinct population, and it pleases me to see this.  In my mind, there is more that makes a species that genetic markers.

Botteri's Sparrow

The Botteri’s Sparrow seems to be another largely overlooked bird.  The literature doesn’t even make it clear if this species should be placed in the genus Aimphilia alongside species like the Rufous-crowned Sparrow or Peucaea along with things like Cassin’s Sparrow.  The current standing is Peucaea, but it seem tenious.  A rather old, but somewhat lovely taxonomic paper on the species by J. Dan Webster A Revision of the Botteri Sparrow, explains why this might be: “The birds are such late migrants, especially the Mexican races, that many collectors have left the field before the birds begin breeding…. [and] the species has eluded fall and early winter collection almost entirely.”

Although this was written in 1959, it seems to remain the case.  This species continues to fly under the radar of many Mexican birders (that is to say, birders in Mexico.)  Although their distribution extends from the southern US to Central America, and their chosen tall-grass habitat is (relatively speaking) ample, few of my friends have ever heard of this species.  Looking at eBird data shows the same - sightings are few and scattered.  There is no reason to believe that this bird is particularly threatened, as they are able to thrive in non-native grasslands according to Jones and Bock’s paper The Botteri’s Sparrow and Exotic Arizona Grasslands: An Ecological Trap or Habitat Regained?  They are simply hard to find.  It is solitary and shy species that rarely emerges from low in the grass except to sing.  As such, it’s a species that draws my personal attention.

Song Sparrow

If you take a quick look at the song sparrow range map (the one that shows all of North America, not just the supposed North America that only includes the US and Canada,) you will notice something interesting.  There is a contiguous population across the bird-guide version of North America and then a little island of sparrows alone down in Mexico.   Geographic isolation usually means genetic isolation, and so it happens to be.  Sometimes it’s nice to have different parts of my life connecting, and it was nice to find that the sparrows I was pondering down in Veracruz happen to be the same birds my professor, Bob Zink, from the U of M published about many years before. http://www.jstor.org/pss/2410178

Worthen's Sparrow

In a birding guide to Veracruz, I came across the casual mention of a bird called the Worthen’s Sparrow.  The guide said that Worthen’s Sparrows were known to have been seen in the far eastern edge of Veracruz in an area called Perote.  This part of Veracruz features a succession of increasingly arid habitats as it nears the state of Puebla – prairie, scrub, mala pais, and eventually desert.

I had never heard of this bird before, but I attributed it to the fact that I’m a terrible birder who doesn’t even own a field guide.  I wanted to see a Worthen’s Sparrow, since I have never seen one, but I didn’t think too hard about it.  That is, until we discovered this is actually one of the rarest species on earth.  They are an almost completely unstudied group that once ranged from New Mexico to Veracruz, but is now restricted three tiny groups in north-eastern Mexico.  The total population of this species is estimated to be no more than 500 individuals, and is likely closer to about 200.

Why has nobody heard of this bird, then?  I suppose because it’s ugly, and it’s in Mexico.  Although, rare, ugly, and in Mexico is about all it takes for me to become very excited.  I have spent some time trying to find the probably extirpated Worthen’s Sparrows of Veracruz, but have turned up nothing.  I want another chance to look.  Something seems romantic to me to be the champion of an ugly bird in an ugly habitat, and another reservoir of genetic diversity would be invaluable to a minute population of slowly dwindling birds.  

The almost endemic bird of Veracruz

The Veracruz Rufous-naped Wren is an endemic subspecies to the coastal dry forests of central Veracruz.  This population happens to be it's own disjunct population and may well be considered it's own species in the future.  Thusly, when considering a bird to paint that would be representative of where I have been living, this was the (sub)species we came up with.

The RAREST bird

Lately I’ve been playing the role of the hawk-watcher in place of bander.  This has been a pretty good chance to learn, and my bird-watching in general has improved more in the past two months than it has in years.  Seeing hundreds of thousands of migratory birds is equally exciting as handling a few.  Still, there is something awesome about having a little bit of “hawk in hand.”  Here is the cool hawk I have to brag about.  (Yeah, I'm not *that* ego-less.)

 

Veracruzano Highlands

Veracruz has existed in my mind as the humid costal plains around Chichicaxtle, Cardel and San Isidro for as long as I’ve known it years that I have had to know it.  Around here, a person gets so accustomed to the wilting heat that any temperature below about 24 degrees C is cause for putting on a jacket.  On clear days, however, it is still possible to see snow on top of the Pico de Orizaba about sixty miles to the west.  There are altitudes in Veracruz that rival and then surpass those of the western US.  This year I’ve had the pleasure of discovering this side of Veracruz, which is probably the most beautiful part of this state.

One of the sites I have come to know best is La Joya, a favorite birding spots among the VRR crew.  The town itself is charming on it’s own.  It is composed of a lot of wooden building and is bifurcated by the highway to Mexico city where vests and hats are always being sold.  It features a lot of restaurants that serve rabbit, a freakishly high concentration of cheese shops, and a lot of homes heated by wood stoves.  It’s the kind of aesthetic that I appreciate.

 The main attraction however, is a gravel pit surrounded by second-growth pine forest just outside of the town of La Joya.  Sentiments about private property are somewhat different in Mexico, so a person can freely walk into the gravel pit and around the trucks and start birding, but we usually ask for permission at the office anyhow.  Usually the response is a mixture of warm welcome and total confusion as to why gringos with binoculars chose here as a tourist destination. 

For a Californian birder, the mixture of species in La Joya is a strange amalgamation of familiar birds, seemingly familiar birds, and stuff you have never seen before.  There are Stellar’s Jays and Acorn Woodpeckers occupying the soundscape just like in the Sierra Nevadas, and many things such as the Mountain Chickadees and the Dark-eyed Juncos have just been replaced by their equivalents the Mexican Chickadees and Yellow-eyed Juncos.  Then there are things like Gray-silky flycatchers, trogons, and the fabled Red Warbler that have no parallel in California.  It is a pleasantly surreal feeling to be amongst the familiar and the strange, to be in Mexico wearing a coat and battling the wind and rain rather than the heat and humidity.  It is a beautiful place with a little bit of both of the places I love.

Sorry I don’t have a camera to share photos.  Soon!