Eric Gofreed
Well-Known Member
It’s Winged Wednesday, where feathers, flutters, and flight steal the show! Whether they’re zipping, swooping, sunbathing, or just striking a sassy pose, we want to see your favorite winged wonders. Birds, bugs, bats, or butterflies—if it’s got wings, it’s fair game!
This week, I’m sharing birds from my backyard in Arizona, all taken on Monday. Our high desert habitat is a patchwork of juniper woodland, pinyon pine, manzanita, shrub oak, and cacti. It’s not quite Sonoran and not quite alpine—just a beautiful, rugged transition zone that supports a surprising variety of residents.
Most of the birds here wear earth-toned plumage—buff, gray, cinnamon, or charcoal—evolved to blend into dusty ground and bark-stripped branches. But occasionally, a more vivid visitor shows up, a reminder that camouflage isn't the only way to survive in the desert.
Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jay
Every feather shouting, ‘Behold my magnificent topside!’
Crissal Thrasher
This desert runner uses its down curved bill to sweep through the leaf litter and pry open secrets beneath the soil. When startled, it doesn’t fly—it bolts.
Bushtit: female
That pale eye gives her away every time. Small, swift, and roughly as exciting as oatmeal—until she joins a flock of forty and turns the desert shrubs into organized chaos.
Bewick’s Wren
Bold, twitchy, and opinionated, the Bewick’s Wren rarely keeps a thought to itself. It zips from perch to perch, tail wagging like punctuation on a rant, always one wingbeat away
from its next big announcement.
Steller's Jay
An alpine trickster in desert disguise—this Steller’s Jay showed up in my canyon yard for the first time this summer, likely driven down slope by smoke, food scarcity, or sheer curiosity.
Normally a high-elevation bird of ponderosa pines, he now surveys the high desert habitat like it’s coniferous enough. Blue never looked so bewildered.
This week, I’m sharing birds from my backyard in Arizona, all taken on Monday. Our high desert habitat is a patchwork of juniper woodland, pinyon pine, manzanita, shrub oak, and cacti. It’s not quite Sonoran and not quite alpine—just a beautiful, rugged transition zone that supports a surprising variety of residents.
Most of the birds here wear earth-toned plumage—buff, gray, cinnamon, or charcoal—evolved to blend into dusty ground and bark-stripped branches. But occasionally, a more vivid visitor shows up, a reminder that camouflage isn't the only way to survive in the desert.
Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jay
Every feather shouting, ‘Behold my magnificent topside!’
Crissal Thrasher
This desert runner uses its down curved bill to sweep through the leaf litter and pry open secrets beneath the soil. When startled, it doesn’t fly—it bolts.
Bushtit: female
That pale eye gives her away every time. Small, swift, and roughly as exciting as oatmeal—until she joins a flock of forty and turns the desert shrubs into organized chaos.
Bewick’s Wren
Bold, twitchy, and opinionated, the Bewick’s Wren rarely keeps a thought to itself. It zips from perch to perch, tail wagging like punctuation on a rant, always one wingbeat away
from its next big announcement.
Steller's Jay
An alpine trickster in desert disguise—this Steller’s Jay showed up in my canyon yard for the first time this summer, likely driven down slope by smoke, food scarcity, or sheer curiosity.
Normally a high-elevation bird of ponderosa pines, he now surveys the high desert habitat like it’s coniferous enough. Blue never looked so bewildered.
