Sheltering in Place: Zuihitsu

Sheltering in Place: Zuihitsu

By Gerry Traucht

 

Editor’s Note: Gerry offers us glimpses of what he sees on his Berkeley strolls. This unique collection embodies the qualities of the beloved Japanese poetic form, Zuihitsu. Zuihitsu is genre of Japanese literature (since adapted by many Western writers) consisting of loosely connected personal essays and fragmented ideas that typically respond to the author’s surroundings. Photos taken by Gerry. 

 

1.

For over a year a Black-crowned Night-Heron has claimed a dumpster on 4th Street behind Market Hall and Peet’s Coffee. Migration and hunting are not his thing, but possibly there is a better story to why he stays here.

Black-crowned Night Heron.

He’s a familiar sight. He has an audience, often photographing him. The dumpster is his stage.

In a pose for the camera.

Now that the nearby restaurants are closed, the dumpster is largely empty, the streets are empty.

~

2.

Nearby, the Great Blue Heron roams Cesar Chavez Park and the Berkeley Marina.

Great Blue Heron, touching down.

Blue skies, Bay views, San Francisco.

~

3.

California Gull at Cesar Chavez Park. Usually on the same shoreline rock opposite the Golden Gate Bridge.

In observation.

~

4.

My backyard Raven greets me from his usual perch above the deck. It was my birthday. Nice timing.

A birthday greeting.

He comes for short visits most days. Because his beak isn’t especially heavy, I don’t know if he’s a Raven or a Crow. He does have the Raven ruffled collar feathers, but not much. He’s a bit brownish, not Crow-black.

Perched.

When he’s hungry, he brings his mate. They’re a twosome, as Ravens often are. He seems bigger than a Crow. Not by much.

What do you think?

Is my Raven a Crow?

~

5.

Early April at Aquatic Park, Berkeley.

An unusual hunt.

A Great Egret was side hunting with neck and head approaching parallel to the water. He circled, slowly. This side-ways neck technique is the first time I’ve seen it so quickly repeated in prolonged hunting.

https://goldengatebirdalliance.org/wp-content/uploads/8_Traucht_Side-Hunt_video.m4v

 

 

He high-stepped and leaned sideways until he spied his target. Every minute or two he had a fish.

~

6.

Recently, this stylish bird gave the backyard’s other plum tree a visit. Black Phoebe. 99%. That is what my iBird identifier says.

The Phoebe.

But he’s brown.

In the bird books, he resembles an Eastern Phoebe by the color of his back feathers but not the chest pattern.…

Birding Through the Feelings

Birding Through the Feelings

By Megan Fradley-Smith

 

One of my earliest childhood memories, one that brings me much joy, is of a moment in kindergarten on a class field trip. I cannot remember where we were, why we were out, or who was there with me, but I can remember looking high up at the sky, and becoming mesmerized by a swirling kettle of Turkey Vultures.

I pointed this out to my teacher, who was stunned that I had noticed something so distant. Her praise made an impression, and I still feel that rush of pride when I manage to observe a soaring raptor, so graceful, so free.

Cooper’s Hawk by Megan

For me, birding has become a lifeline in many ways. During my first pregnancy over a decade ago, a Red-Shouldered Hawk would appear in my backyard, nearly every day, always when I most needed it. To me, it became a symbol of hope, and any time I felt uneasy, I unknowingly turned to the the skies for a Hawk. Usually, I found one.

A Red-tailed Hawk takes off from its perch by Megan

A few years later, I worked as a mental health therapist in Northern Florida, making a long commute to a rural facility each day. This was a tumultuous time in my life (I was a young mother, the breadwinner, the empath working with extremely high-risk clients). I felt the stress in every fiber of my being. However, now that I am so far removed from those days, what I remember most is seeing Swallow-Tailed Kites gliding above the trees as I drove, their carefree movements never failing to delight me, no matter the stress I carried.

My final months in Florida were rife with hardship, but it is the Kites and Hawks that stay with me, all this time later.

Spotted Towhee by Megan

I fully leaned into birding last year, as my casual observations grew into more structured study. However, this ‘leaning in’ was more of a pulling myself out of the depths of postpartum anxiety, as the birth of my third child in early 2019, and the transition that followed, stretched me more than I have words to describe.

One evening, weighed down by a long day of mothering and teaching and cleaning and breastfeeding and not sleeping, I set my children up with toys and stepped outside for 5 minutes alone. That evening air enveloped me, the wind brought the sounds of dozens of backyard birds, and I felt myself let out a breath that I had been holding for days, or weeks.…

When Birds Are More Than a Hobby

When Birds Are More Than a Hobby

By Alan Krakauer

 

 

Like many of you, I count birds as a “necessary luxury,” something I feel I can’t live without, or at least I’m loathe to try. I’m one of those people who will temporarily exit a human conversation if an accipiter zips by or I catch a different bird song in the background chorus.

Covid-19 has certainly limited where and when I’ve been out to look for birds this spring. More than that, it has me thinking about another group of bird-o-philes who have been thrown for a loop by the pandemic – ornithologists. Among my various hats, I’ve spent 25 years as a researcher of bird behavior and ecology. I’ve now heard from friends and colleagues how this virus is turning their year upside down.

Imagine leading international research crews in the midst of months long overseas projects and learning you have mere days to pack up and jet back to the US before travel restrictions slam down… or devoting all winter to intricate experiments in order to learn something about a bird population, only to have the vital vernal second act to the study abruptly cancelled… or a former intern who’s landed a coveted wildlife guide position now facing weeks or months with no travelers coming because the national parks are closed… or being forced to teach Field Ornithology from an online classroom instead of a cool clear March morning, unable to ignite students’ imagination by transforming wild birds (almost ephemeral and theoretical objects to the uninitiated) and making them instantly and irrevocably tangible when carefully unraveling them from a mist net.

As these stories have reached me in the confines of my office chair, I’ve been reflecting on my time as a field biologist. I’ve been scouring my hard drives and even “real” photo albums from my pre-digital days while reminiscing about my time outside in the service of biological knowledge.

Russet-throated Puffbird and Great Potoo taken from Alan Krakauer’s photo archives

There was my first job post-college in the Venezuelan Llanos soaking up neotropical biodiversity. Flipping through the aging 3×5” prints from a quarter-century ago, the exotic avian names somehow leap to the front of my brain: Great Potoo, Russet-throated Puffbird, Red-billed Scythebill. A present-day photo of a Wild Turkey below San Pablo Ridge will take me back 20 years, striding through lupine and poppy-cloaked hillsides in the Central Coast Range following flocks of turkeys for my Ph.D.…

Mount Sutro Open Space Reserve: An Oasis in SF

Mount Sutro Open Space Reserve: An Oasis in SF

By Whitney Grover

 

There’s something magical about stepping off a concrete sidewalk and onto a dirt path. The claustrophobic buildings are replaced by comforting trees. Car alarms and ambulance sirens are replaced by singing robins and the soft chips of sparrows.  The Mount Sutro Open Space Reserve is one of these places, a green oasis in the heart of the cool grey city. But in truth, there’s very little that is “natural” about what we see today on the Mountain. Jutting up to a 909 foot elevation, the Mountain is comprised mainly of chert, which you can see exposed in several areas along the trails. Before European settlers arrived, developing and foresting the area, the vegetation was likely native grasses and coastal scrub habitat. The enormous grassy hill was surely quite a sight, visible from far and wide.

Mount Sutro by Whitney Grover

But today Mount Sutro is a forest, densely packed eucalyptus trees form a thick canopy. Invasive ivy and blackberry carpet the understory. Beginning in 1886, Adolf Sutro began foresting the area, he intended to use the fast growing Australian eucalyptus for lumber, but the particular variety turned out to be poor for logging. Over the decades, some of the trees were harvested, and the surrounding areas were cleared and developed. But the steep slopes of Mount Sutro were left with this foreign flora. Eventually, the land was acquired by the University of California, San Francisco (UCSF), whose Parnassus campus sits at the North foot of the Mountain.

Pacific Wren by Mick Thompson

The birds we find on the Mountain today are ones you would expect in a forest habitat: Pacific Wren, Thrushes, Song Sparrow, Woodpeckers, Pygmy Nuthatches and Steller’s Jays. Although the majority of the plants are invasive and non-native, there are at least 74 native plant species found throughout the Mountain including California bay laurel, several native fern species, red elderberry, poison oak, and others. In the early 2000s, the summit was restored to a native plant garden, funded by the Rotary club and executed by The Sutro Stewards. The Sutro Stewards work tirelessly to remove the invasive understory plants and replace them with natives. They run a native plant nursery, maintain the trails, and organize volunteers to these efforts.

And now a new chapter is unfolding.

Pygmy Nuthatch by Doug Greenberg

After a decade long process shaped by public comment, EIRs, committees of experts, and no shortage of drama, UCSF has published a Vegetative Management Plan which outlines a 20-year restoration plan for the Mountain.…

House Listing near Corona Heights under Coronavirus Restrictions

House Listing near Corona Heights under Coronavirus Restrictions

By Brian Fitch

 

For many years now, I’ve been compiling a list of bird species that I’ve seen from my home near Corona Heights Park in San Francisco. It’s not technically a “yard list,” partly because I live in a third story flat, with no deck or yard space at all, and partly because I count anything I can see, even in the distance.  When I’m home, I usually watch birds during brief breaks from other activities, from one of several windows, and rarely from the front stoop. I’ve been putting off bolstering this list until I’m too old to head out into the field much, but here we are with the coronavirus, and I’m staying home much more than I’d like to.

And it’s now April.

My only shelter-in-place worthy outdoor space is my flat roof, so on the 1st of the month, I retrieved the ladder from the basement and climbed up. I have done sky watches here before, but it’s not my favorite locale for many reasons, not least of which is the three-story drop with no railings. And with views only to the west and east, migrants heading north or south can be frustrating, as too often a bird will flash by me so quickly that there’s no way to tell what it is.  I have to specialize in high-flying things that allow me at least a few seconds to work through the ID.

Sharp-shinned Hawk by Sandy Paiement

The westerly wind off of the Pacific wasn’t the best for channeling migrants to my neighborhood, east winds are better, but the clear sky let me see what was passing over.

Highlights from the April 1st included six Turkey Vultures, a Sharp-shinned Hawk, and a White-throated Swift flying among Violet-green Swallows. 21 species in total between 11 am and 1 pm. Dominant in the sky over SF are the ravens, growing in number every year, and Anna’s Hummingbirds appear daily regardless of any weather conditions. Beyond those two givens, there are 20-30 regular species I can see in a week, many more that pass through in migration, and then there are the special species that appear rarely, or only once (so far).

White-throated Swift by Jerry Ting

With such a singular viewpoint in the heart of a dense city, but also on the Pacific Flyway, my list is rather odd. I’ve never seen a Brown Creeper or a Tree Swallow, and just got my first Warbling Vireo last fall, after 30 years of living here.…