• 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

    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).…

  • Dreaming of Birds While Sheltered-in-Place

    By Paloma MacKenzie

     

    Two Mondays ago, I showed up to work expecting the usual commotion that comes with tasks piling up over the weekend. But early in the afternoon, a colleague alerted me that six Bay Area counties were ordering denizens to shelter-in-place. I can’t say I was shocked. I’d already spent the last couple of weeks following the news closely on the developments of Covid-19 infection in the state. Later that afternoon, the CFO let everyone know that we were shutting down for the foreseeable future.

    My husband and I were planning to go on vacation for the first time since we got married last year at the end of the week. Months back, I planned for us to go to Palm Springs to see the place where I grew up, where I hadn’t been in over 8 years. Since my husband started doing school remotely almost two weeks before, he had been adamant that we go despite the escalating situation.

    Although I was looking forward to getting some designated “us” time, the shelter-in-place order gave me an out. My anxiety eased for a moment, but I wish I could have shown my husband my hometown. He was less concerned about traveling while coronavirus cases ballooned because we were going to be spending time outdoors anyway. 

    Paloma’s childhood memories of Flamingos. Photo courtesy of palmspringslife.com

    At the top of our agenda was visiting the American Flamingo population at the Desert Springs Marriot—a fixture in the Coachella Valley with an opulent indoor tropical plant and bird selection and a manmade lagoon complete with Flamingos. My mom worked there as a waitress when I was little, so some of my most vivid childhood memories are of those Flamingos. 

    Flock of American Flamingos by Perl Photography

    I also would have loved to have spotted some roadrunners.

    A Roadrunner (far more elegant than Loony Tunes). Photo by Jim Powers

     

     

     

    My first impression of the species was through Wile E Coyote on Looney Tunes. I soon realized they didn’t have such long necks and were somewhat stocky (in comparison, mostly), yet sleek, like little dinosaurs with frilled crowns. And I’ll never forget when I found a hummingbird nest in my backyard and reveled at the miniature eggs.

    Instead, life resumes indoors. Being glued to social media more than usual this last week, I noticed that many people I know are including outdoor activity as part of their self-isolation agenda.…

  • Lessons From A Tree

    By Carree M.

     

    Nature is always presenting us with opportunities to learn if we take a moment to fully absorb these gifts. While the Bay Area and many communities are under shelter in place directives, it may seem that we have been completely cut off from nature. That being said, as an avid nature lover and photographer, making a concerted effort to remain indoors is taking a lot of adjustment.

    I live in a building with limited outdoor space, save a small patch of grass and one magnificent tree which someone with a whole lot more knowledge helped me identify as a Brush Cherry (Syzygium paniculatum). What is so magnificent about this tree? It attracts multiple species of birds and produces beautiful red berries. It is through this tree that I’ve honed my knowledge of visual and audio bird identification. I appreciate the education even when the birds come calling early in the morning before I had planned to wake up.

    Bushtit

     

    Bird Journaling

    A few months back, I started a bird journal to take notes on the birds that visit the tree and their behavior. Coincidentally, the pattern on the journal cover resembles tree rings in an abstract way, so that worked out nicely. I also use this journal to record sightings of birds, mammals, etc. when out on trails and walking around my neighborhood. I find this to be a therapeutic tactile experience in this digital world. I now have a record of resident birds and those that stop in for a rest on their seasonal migration. I’ve gotten to “know” the Anna’s Hummingbird who has taken ownership of the window feeder and the House Finch that enjoys stopping by to test out his songs.

    Anna’s Hummingbird

    Due to the relatively small sample size of the birds who stop in I’ve gotten good at identifying calls and songs to the point of not needing to look outside to see who is out there. I still look though because I can’t say no to that. I know when the Bushtits and Ruby-crowned Kinglet are out there being their spazzy insect-hunting selves. I know when the Cedar Waxwings make their seasonal appearance via flash mobbing the tree as their soft seesaw noise is distinct as well as hearing the telltale “plopping” sounds of dropped berries hitting the ground. Other visitors include: Townsend’s Warblers, Dark-eyed Juncos, Yellow-rumped Warblers, Robins, California Towhees, Scrub Jays, Black Phoebes, Chestnut-backed Chickadees, Mourning Doves, one hawk that I failed to identify that was on the roof of the building next door (major fail on my part and still kicking myself for not looking in time).…

  • Birding While Sheltered in Place: Reflections

    By Kathleen Murphy

     

    My dad was a bird watcher. He could name species without a guide. When he passed, I saw my first blue bird and, of course, like every grieving human would do, I called out, “Dad!” I loved to look at the pictures in his guidebooks, but never had the patience to sit and wait for birds like he did.

    Fast forward two years after my dad’s passing: this was the start of my family’s backyard clean up project. We decided that creating as much biodiversity as we could in our backyard was our goal. We were inspired by the film, “The Biggest Little Farm.” We consulted local arborists and landscapers and planted our first round of bird, bee, and butterfly attracting plants. 

    Western Bluebird by Becky Matsubara

    Now, I hear the birds. 

    More and more I’ve been sitting outside on the weekends and watching their behaviors. 

    Why don’t they wash in our bird bath? American Robins blend into the plum blossoms. I still don’t know the name of the small, black-headed bird that is the size of a Sparrow. I say tentatively aloud, “Chickadee” but I’m not sure. My dad would know.

    American Robin by Mark Heatherington

    About two months ago, I watched a hummingbird sitting so still on the very top of a bare branch. The hummingbird disappeared but I was still able to hear her. After nearly half an hour, I heard her singing as she left the branch; then she’d returned. She was circling and circling in the same pattern. As I watched her, I noted for the first time the behavior of this bird. She eventually flew away but left me with an understanding of what I had been missing up until that moment. 

    Anna’s Hummingbird by Edmund Wu

    Last month, I saw a pair of birds that looked like the common Mourning Doves. As I observed, I realized these birds seemed very different. I swear, this bird had a long beak! I got up close to the window to watch. This particular bird had striped marks on her back and a body that was slightly bigger than a normal Mourning Dove. 

    This bird was something different and new; maybe a lost shorebird, though we’re miles from the Bay.

    I work at a local school with a living lab managed by naturalists and scientists whom I admire. I asked our bird expert about what species this odd mix of dove and shorebird could be.…