You Never Know Who Might Show Up On Your Doorstep One Morning

You Never Know Who Might Show Up On Your Doorstep One Morning

By Elliot Janca

 

 

Editor’s Note: Elliot is one of GGBA’s youngest birders. Before our Birdathon postponement, Elliot was an active participant in our Young Birders Contest, where he helped fundraise on behalf of GGBA while promoting his love of birding. Even during difficult times like these, we can all find inspiration in Elliot’s passion for birds and nature. In this piece, Elliot explores his connections to nature and implores us to take care of our beloved birds.

 

Falling in Love with Birds

 

The wind was sharp, there was a dense fog in the air, all the fathomable elements to create a deep chill that seeped through the thick layers of warm clothing we had on, and yet, that was the day I fell in love with birds.

The morning may have been bleak, but as the sun came out, so did the birds. I don’t know what sparked it on that Christmas Bird Count in Monterey Bay. Before that, I had gone on many birding outings, yet hadn’t found much of a connection with them.  Maybe it was witnessing a Red-breasted Sapsucker high up in the trees of Crocker Grove, or the multicolored flamboyant Harlequin Duck out in the water of Stillwater Cove, or maybe it was just them, the birds in their entirety.

Harlequin Duck by Isaac Grant

Since then, my life has changed.

 

Protecting Nature, Protecting Birds

 

All family vacations are now planned with birds in mind, if not the primary goal.  I recently was lucky enough to go to South Korea and Palawan Island, in the Philippines.  The beauty of the birds there shocked me, but what shocked me further was their behavior. In Korea, you couldn’t get within 100 yards of a flock of large foraging birds, usually egrets or spoonbills, before most of them decided it was unsafe and flew off!

However, Yubudo Island, at the mouth of the Geum Estuary, showed man-made devastation.

It is a significant estuary along South Korea’s Yellow Sea coastline and is a critical feeding stop on the migration route of shorebirds.  The coast of the Yellow Sea used to have many such tidal mudflats, where sandpipers and plovers would gather in the masses to roost and feed.  Now Geum Estuary is one of the last undammed estuaries, yet is already being destroyed. The thing that killed the others has not taken as much of a toll on Yubudo (walling off bays to create more industrial and agricultural space); instead, there is plastic ruining it. …

A Walk in Our Redwoods

A Walk in Our Redwoods

By Miles and Teresa Tuffli

 

We’re always attuned to the bird activity at our house, but since our beloved pup died this past October, it’s been hard to take long walks in the surrounding woods without our boy. But, needing to stay near home and away from others, we’ve mustered up the nerve to face bittersweet reminders and start exploring again.

Just a short walk from our front door is a county fire road that winds through the mixed evergreen forest. We very rarely cross paths with anyone up there, so it fits the bill perfectly for getting a dose of nature while practicing social isolation.

Though everyday human life has drastically changed, we find it incredibly therapeutic to witness the natural world persisting on. The wren still sings, the hummingbird still buzzes, and the jay still hunkers down in its nest. The flowers still bloom, the river still flows, and the new generation of maple leaves still pushes out to the light. If a silver lining exists in the COVID-19 pandemic, perhaps it’s that the natural world may receive a break from relentless human activity.

During this shutdown, we invite you along on a virtual exploration of the birds and flora of the redwoods.

Let’s start with a recent discovery from our house.

Stellar’s Jay beginning a nest

Actually, calling it a “discovery” is a stretch since the nest sits at eye-level from our living room, just feet from our window – hard to miss! Now that “shelter-in-place” is firmly entrenched in our lexicon, the promise of watching this Steller’s Jay pair from our couch – hopefully raising a successful brood – feels like a timely stroke of luck!

Bringing more material, while its mate arranges twigs in the nest

Each time the pair interacted at the nest, they chattered quietly. Steller’s Jays constantly amaze us with their wide repertoire of vocalizations – check out our post.

 

https://goldengatebirdalliance.org/wp-content/uploads/1-Stellers-Jay.wav

 

For a couple days now, one has been sitting in the nest off and on. We’re excited to see how this unfolds!

Stellar’s Jay

The hummingbirds have been very active, with multiple species zipping around nearby feeders. This male was considerably orange, but had a bit of green speckled on his back, so we’re uncertain if he’s an Allen’s or Rufous.

Allen’s or Rufous Hummingbird

Yesterday, a fully orange-backed Rufous male appeared, and began chasing all others in the vicinity – listen to him below.…

Breakfast with Towhees, Lunch with Finches

Breakfast with Towhees, Lunch with Finches

By Kseniya Tuchinskaya

 

The world is upside down but the House Finches outside my window don’t know this. Every morning, I eat breakfast in our kitchen nook, which looks onto my neighbors’ overgrown fence. And every morning, the finches show up to keep me company. I love seeing their bright red heads bob between the purple flowers and fresh green leaves. I love their cheerful song. My binoculars stay at the ready on the empty chair next to me as I sip my tea.

I worry that one day, my neighbors will catch me with my leopard-print bathrobe and binoculars, staring intently through the window. It’s a strange time, so I hope they’ll allow me this eccentricity. 

House Finch by Rocky T.

Now that I am working from home, I have become very familiar with the rhythms of our local birds. In fact, I know them better than any neighbors I’ve ever had. Because there’s no need to catch a train to the city, I wake up without an alarm. Instead, the first sound I hear is the Bewick’s Wren chittering in the yard over. Sometimes, the resident Scrub Jay joins in as well, which is a clear sign it’s time to get up and make my morning tea. 

Bewick’s Wren by Aurora Santiago

There’s the pair of resident California Towhees, rummaging around our cars in the driveway (I see them every day, and I am convinced that soon I’ll be able to recognize them by face alone).

There’s the female Anna’s Hummingbird who comes around in the morning, without fail, and sits on her favorite skinny branch, preening. She visits at sunset, too. I like to think she’s enjoying the pink sky after a long day of flying and foraging.  I see this hummingbird so frequently that I have asked my husband to help me brainstorm a name for her (suggestions, readers?).

Female Anna’s Hummingbird by Aurora Santiago

Sometimes, I’ll catch a glimpse of the Bushtits as they bounce around on their morning rounds. White-crowned and very round Golden-crowned Sparrows take their turn as well, if the finches are away.

I am not used to spending this much time inside my house, or within 2 miles of it. I’ve known my neighborhood only in relation to myself as a human, but I’ve been discovering that it’s a bird neighborhood, too. If I pass a certain tree on my block near sunset, there is sure to be a an American Robin in it, singing its evening notes.…

Goodbye Until an Unknown Time

Goodbye Until an Unknown Time

By Marjorie Powell

 

I felt a pang of disappointment as I canceled the hotel reservation for the Sage Grouse three-day trip that I signed up for the first day that the Birdathon trips were announced. I was really looking forward to seeing the males perform at the Lek, even after I heard about the slog through the snow and mud in the dark last year, when it was uniquely cold and wet. 

To console myself, I went across the street to the platform at Elsie Roemer Bird Sanctuary on the southeastern corner of Alameda, then walked along the path between homes and the edge of the Bay. As I walked, I realized that I was also missing the American Avocets that had so recently fed and rested along the shoreline.

American Avocet Photo by Marjorie

During the last weeks in February I routinely counted 100 or more of the Avocets in the equivalent of a city block of shoreline. I had noticed that many of these striking, black-and-white birds were molting into their Alternate, or breeding, plumage, with the coffee-brown head, neck and upper belly, a sign that they will leave soon for their nesting sites. I am comforted to know that some of them do not go far, but nest at the Alameda Wildlife Reserve on the old Naval Base at the west end of Alameda as well as at Martin Luther King Jr, Regional Seashore in Oakland. I am also comforted to know that they will be back, although now I can’t remember which month they return. Is it December, or do I only see the larger flocks of them in February and early March?

I’ve watched, and learned about, American Avocets during the six years that I’ve lived across from the Sanctuary in Alameda.

American Avocet in breeding plumage by Marjorie

They are tall enough and their black-and-white winter coloring is distinctive enough that even non-birders can identify them easily without binoculars. When they leave Elsie Roemer to breed, they lay their eggs in a scrape in the bare ground lined with vegetation and, sometimes, with down from the female’s breast. They lay 3-4 eggs, which are incubated for three to four weeks. The babies can walk and swim within a day of hatching. Avocets feed on small invertebrates as well as seeds from aquatic plants. They find their food by scything their bills back and forth on the surface of the water.…

Birds Don’t Know About Social Distancing

Birds Don’t Know About Social Distancing

By Britta Shoot

 

 

Cheep cheep cheep!

The sparrows and finches are here. I don’t know what time it is—I still haven’t opened my eyes, let alone turned off my white noise machine or opened the shades—but I know the regulars have arrived because they are chirping noisily right outside.

As I shuffle into the kitchen to make coffee, I squint out the window to see dainty House Finches, puffy Mourning Doves, and agile sparrows foraging peaceably together.

House Finch by Deb Shoning

I live in a downtown San Francisco apartment building, where these types of charming encounters are constant. There’s a little yard along the walkway up to the building, and in addition, I’m absurdly fortunate to have a small roof deck right outside my flat. It’s just big enough for a few chairs and a container garden of varied succulents and cacti, perennials including snapdragons and lilies, and woody geraniums I inherited from former neighbors. 

No doubt due to the abundance of plant life and stately street trees in the immediate vicinity, most days, energetic robins and lively hummingbirds visit my porch on their rounds. Every afternoon, a few members of the local Red-masked Parakeet colony fly shrieking past—if they don’t land directly on my fire escape or roof, of course. Between so much bird activity and expansive views into numerous downtown office, apartment, and hotel buildings, I feel intensely connected to the city and its rhythms, even when I’m in my home, physically removed from it all.

Red-masked Parakeets by Andreas Haugstrup

In How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy, Jenny Odell notes that when she visits Oakland’s Rose Garden, she isn’t “alone in nature,” even when she is the only person around. 

“When the garden is empty of people,” she writes, “I still consider it a social place where I spend time with jays, ravens, Dark-eyed Juncos, hawks, turkeys, dragonflies, and butterflies, not to mention the oaks, the redwoods, the buckeyes, and the roses themselves.” 

Because I live in a densely populated area, I never expect to be fully alone, even when tourists aren’t waving at me from a nearby hotel window or perching birds aren’t right outside the window next my desk. Without even moving from my office chair, I can watch hawk pairs catch updrafts over the Financial District. Some magic of acoustics and my specific location means I often hear them first, a signal to peer out my east-facing windows, or a midday excuse to rush onto the deck to look for them soaring over SoMa (and stretch a little before I sit back down).…