The day of the Raven

January 5, 2024

Three winters ago (the Covid winter) we bought the Raven here in Tucson after taking Old Paint, our 20 year old Jetta wagon with nearly 200,000 miles on it, in to the VW dealership for diagnostic testing because the dash indicator said it was sick. After being told it needed over five thousand dollars worth of work, it was an easy decision to start looking for a new car - and it was our extreme good fortune that the only suitable replacement in the region we could find was sitting on this dealer’s lot. Rachael and I still like reminiscing over that day, a crazy, madcap ultra-stress saga that included me phoning Rachael to hustle over to the dealership to get here before it closed so we could get her name on the title. It took some hustling too, because she was 25 miles away at the far end of Julian Wash on her bike at the time. Oh, and she had to stop by the house to get her drivers license because somehow I’ve lost mine, arriving on the edge of a food crisis because there wasn’t time for her to stop and eat. Oh, and we had to call both of our credit unions to get authorization for such a large transaction on our debit cards and then wait around about an hour with the finance officer after the dealership closed for the day for the first of them to call back. Oh, and we had to prove we owned the Jetta before we could turn it over for trade-in, so calls to Elizabeth, Bruce and Andrea were needed because we thought the registration was in our joint safety deposit box we share with Elizabeth and Bruce and Andrea had the title document because we planned to just give it to them after we went vagabond. Oh, and then finally we needed to look up the proof of ownership on the Oregon DMV website because the registration doc wasn’t in the safety deposit box after all, but we couldn’t because I was missing a critical piece of information - my drivers license number. Through some minor miracle though, suddenly the number pops up out of my memory somehow, and the day is saved.

All within the middle of the pandemic, and just a few days before we were due to leave town and drive north. Really, it’s one of our best stories and I’m glad we journaled it at the time so we can remind ourselves of how much fun we had that day.

So anyway, today is the Raven’s special day when he gets to return home for a nostalgic visit. Every winter since we bought it we’ve taken him back to the same dealership for scheduled maintenance, which is often enough because only about 6,000 miles are put on him each year. That, and an oil change in Portland before we turn him over to Elizabeth for the coming months are all the servicing he’s ever needed. The Raven has been a fantastic car, the best we’ve ever owned.

Except for that other crazy day the following winter when he suffered a cracked windshield just days before we were due to leave Tucson for home again. But that’s another story.

The plan for today is that I’ll drive over to the dealership, drop off the car, and then bike over to Sweetwater while it’s being serviced. Rachael’s plan is to go out for her own 42 mile ride, but later after it warms up.

It’s just past ten when I head up to the Loop and start biking west toward the Santa Cruz. It’s cold, but not as cold as it might have been because there’s little wind and the sun is beaming down on me. This lowest few miles of Rillito Wash is often good for birding, and today I see numerous phainopeplas, mockingbirds, towhees, quail, and a hawk perched right by the trail.

There’s a run on phainopeplas on Rillito Wash this morning - I must see six or seven of them in about a half mile, including this happy couple.

Just another red-tailed hawk. This bird has an amazing range of colorations it will manifest itself in. It’s easy to think I’m seeing something new, but it’s always just more of the same.

I think I’ve never noticed that you could see the summit of Mount Lemmon from the west end of the range, but with its new snow it stands out here, poking up through the gap above Box Canyon Wash.

I spend about two hours at Sweetwater, making the rounds slowly as I push my bike because biking isn’t allowed here and I’m not trustful enough to leave it locked up. I don’t see too much new today - only another five birds - but I’m really excited when I spot a spotted sandpiper not far ahead of me, rhythmically bobbing along the water line.

And then I’m really excited when I see what I mistakenly think is a black and white warbler, which might be a lifetime first for me. And then, curse the luck, just as I’m getting the camera out the phone rings - it’s the service department, asking for my authorization to replace the worn wiper blades. I say yes quickly and hang up, still with my eye tracking the little guy hiding in his mesquite maze. I’m sure this will kill my chance at a shot of this bird, but surprisingly he stays around just long enough and later I’ll learn that he’s actually a black-throated grey warbler, a definite lifer.

#52: Spotted sandpiper. This is a bird I know well, an easy one to identify by its ceaseless bobbing motion - it must have very strong knees! They’re not so uncommon, but somehow I went through all of last year without spotting one.

#53: Black-throated grey warbler, a lifetime first.

I really liked this view from Sweetwater to the Catalina mountains, but what I was really hoping for is that more of the flock of about a hundred widgeons swirling high above would drop into the frame. I finally gave up and walked away with the few I captured here.

The gallinules are still hanging out at Sweetwater.

I’ve knowingly spotted enough tiny ruby-crowned kinglets this winter that I’m finally starting to recognize them. Like the also tiny and secretive verdins, they’re more common than I realized.

Some lesser goldfinches, monopolizing a feeder.

As I’m biking back to the dealership mentally listing out all the different birds I’ve seen today (36!), I look at the Garmin and am surprised to see that Rachael is less than a half mile ahead of me and going the same direction. I text her to meet at the next stop, one of the built in canned messages the Garmin has, and a few minutes later we meet up and bike together until Flowing Wells where we part ways.

And that’s the day, unless you’re curious about our dinner at Perche No. you’ll just have to remain curious though, because I didn’t take any food photos. Sorry.

After meeting up a few miles earlier, we part here at Flowing Wells. She continues on east to Treat Street, and I head south to retrieve the Raven.

Today's ride: 42 miles (68 km)
Total: 981 miles (1,579 km)

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