Berkeley Backyard Bird Blog: Hot, Thirsty Birds Attracted to Little Spring in John Hinkel Park (Parts 1

Wilson's Warbler cooling off in John Hinkel Park spring

PART 1: August 23, 2015

On a lazy day,

with options limited to venture farther afield,

you have to relish our nearby city parks!

Woodsy environment perfect bird habitat in sweet North Berkeley park

A delightful gem in our midst

John Hinkel Park graces

a hilly North Berkeley neighborhood

just a pleasant twenty minute stroll away.

Outdoor seating in John Hinkel Park amphitheater

Spread over four acres are park amenities, an amphitheater where the Shotgun Players perform operatic renditions of Shakespeare plays for free, and peaceful paths winding through shady groves of oak, bay and Redwood trees.

Lots of room to maneuver and shelter in dense treetop canopy

It doesn't seem like much, this place. But the copses are thick with a healthy understory, and birds love it, finding refuge and roost in an urban setting.

Blackberry Creek emerging from the spring

The main woodsy area nurtures a little rivulet cutting a swathe through a small gully enabling the tiniest of oases for our tiniest of friends – dragonflies, damselflies, bees, and birds.

Wilson's Warbler still hanging around at the spring

They come seeking remnant water flowing and pooling, emerging above ground from on high via one of many hidden springs that nourish Berkeley's hills with perennial water sources, albeit in John Hinkel's case, a mere piddling trickle barely moistening an algae carpeted rocky shelf.

Sharp-shinned Hawk seen occasionally roosting in park trees

That is,

when rains haven't had a chance

to replenish it to a vibrant little gusher.

Small cascade emerging from a spring or swale higher up in the Berkeley Hills

But always a perennial flow, it is enough to slake the thirst of our little friends on this dry, hot day. They come to flit and flirt in the quiet sanctuary, dipping in and cooling off in the natural bird bath.

Dark-eyed Junco taking a dip in spring runoff

Unless you are of the persuasion that small miracles abound in "commonplace" surroundings, you might be tempted to pass this place off as unimpressive or unnoteworthy, and it might very well be that this hardly resplendent scene is not a place to write rhapsodic poetry over.

John Hinkel Park's lush beautiful surroundings - a true urban oasis

EXCEPT I SHALL!

Walkways wind through the park

And except for the fact that it's a life-saver for the birds, animals and insects that call John Hinkel Park their home.

Spring running after rainy spell

I'm standing quietly, waiting patiently, on a small bridge that divides the cleft in the hills where the little rivulet runs down to the street and disappears into a culvert. Mottled bay tree leaves dance in whirlygigs on gossamer threads; grasses hula in a slight breeze; ears attuned to the songs of nature . . . when suddenly, a burst of unseen, hidden activity comes to life.

Dragonflies abound in the food chain

A Sikorsky-sized dragonfly, in glittering blue green raiment, preens on water's edge beside ferns and cress, hovers up and zips down to patrol the insignificant water course (not from Sik's perspective!).

Anna's Hummingbird flies in for a dip

Another rainbow creature, Anna's Hummingbird, arrives out of nowhere, gently alighting for a sip of water with wiry tongue extended, then flits off to suck a bit of nectar from a Monkeyflower.

Dark-eyed Junco still at the spring

Chestnut-backed Chickadees, Song Sparrows, and Dark-eyed Juncos crash the scene, playing in trees. I catch one aloft on a branch shaking water off after a refreshing immersion in the teensiest of basins.

Song Sparrow after a refreshing dunk in the spring

I espy a tittering Song Sparrow,

feathery wet from a dip.

Nothing "lesser" about this beautiful Goldfinch

In the plant-choked gully, a Lesser Goldfinch perches on a wee twig, takes a drink, flaps some water on his back, repeats several times . . . a pageantry of nature's creations putting on a show for all the world to see . . .

Alone on the woodsy path

. . . except all the world is not here, only me!

Anna's Hummingbird sucking up the sweet stuff

Soon a lone and handsome Wilson's Warbler swoops in at the private spa. This tiny yellow bird, sporting a black cap that looks like a toupee, is a hold-over, I'm guessing, from the spring-summer migratory season when they show up in force in the East Bay's riparian areas. I've spotted them many times – each a singular joy! – but I've never been able to get a decent photo of one.

A veritable forest primeval in the urban park

I had thought they were long gone by now. But today, this little fella is drawn like a magnet to the moist area, and his normally frenetic pattern of movement settles down to unprecedented motionlessness, posing for several seconds, so unlike his predictive skittish and secretive behavior.

Wilson's Warbler taking a final bath before flitting off

I snap, snap away with half-way decent results before he flies off for good to who knows where, to find his mate, or gear up for a long haul flight to the tropics.

Simple and precious little spring

This unheralded little gully, with its barely audible trickle, exerts a calming influence and provides hot, thirsty birds and insects a life-sustaining source of water . . . a manifestation of nature's boundless beauty and preciousness no less miraculous or awesome because it's not a powerful river scene in the John Muir Wilderness.

Spring's thin rivulet designated as Blackberry Creek

Just to have this living breathing spring of miniature glory, right before me, with the various creatures enjoying it, creates transcendent joy in the heart.

Mixed forest include Redwood trees and lush understory

Honestly.

Varied Thrush silhouetted

For here we have

the unnoticed, the under appreciated and overlooked

miracle of small things.

Naturally rolled up bark strip

A "small miraculous thing" cannot, should not,

never will be reduced to "nothing special"

by anyone deigning to pass this way

who happens to glance at it for a mere second,

only to . . .

Black beetle in orange poppy

. . . see "nothing"!

Nothing special except . . .

For it is inordinately special.

Blue Jay feathers amidst leaves and bark

Just stop, look, listen, see,

and appreciate the cavalcade of little miracles

unfolding on the moist rock lip

in the small sylvan acreage.

Spring trickling produces a mesmerizing tinkle of watery melodies

Next time you can't make it to a place of "grander" scale or more "precious" intimacy, try one of Berkeley's local parks, where perennial water, amazingly, flows down from the hills, even in drought conditions, and where tiny wild creatures are able to thrive on the modest bounty afforded.

Willow Flycatcher babies

Then open your eyes and really see. Take a lesson from old-time naturalist John Burroughs' playbook in the "art of seeing" where "things escape us because the actors are small."

Colorful bay leaves arranged artfully at spring's pool

Long ago in another time, Burroughs also exhorted us "to look closely and steadily at nature" and take pleasure in the "minute things" about you.

A minute thing

You just might find the spectrum of smallness to be as soul satisfying and spiritually rewarding as being on the Merced River in mighty Yosemite.

"Headless" pigeon

PART 2: October 5, 2015

I recently posted on hot, thirsty birds attracted to a small spring bubbling from beneath a city street trickling into a small ravine at John Hinkel Park in North Berkeley.

View from below of John Hinkel spring

Not exactly an ooooh aaaaah,

knock 'em dead,

amazingly beautiful kind of place,

but still!

White-breasted Nuthatch hungry for insects

A place worthy of attention and recognition – and yes, exultation! – because it is a place revered and sought out by many birds for its year-round water source in a precious baptismal fountain where they're able to find succor and relief in an oasis like setting of refreshing water in dry conditions.

Small pools in spring cascade are natural bird baths

As the spring trickles down a small rock face, water pools ever so gently in tiny basins that attract birds to come and cool off and dip in without fear. On a return visit to check if the spring was still flowing, I'm happy to report it is, with a seeming increase in its modest discharge.

Spotted Towhee asserting landing rights

I'm initially dismayed by the absence of bird activity, but things change real soon the quieter I am, the more patient I wait, the finer tuned my senses become.

Towering Redwoods provide plenty of shelter and sustenance

Tree top activity springs to life with, first, frantic activity by several Chestnut-backed Chickadees, then crashing the party a few Juncos, followed by a Scrub Jay, a Brown Creeper, and soon, a family of Lesser Goldfinches flies in above the spring's lower foliage.

Brown Creeper foraging

In a flash, I spot a mirage of a creature high up, resembling some kind of Warbler I can't zoom in on in time to identify. It might have been a Hermit or Chestnut-sided or Tennessee, but I'll never know.

Townsend's Warbler basking in the cool water of the spring

Soon, a recognizable little guy pops into view – the black masked, yellow-faced Townsend's Warbler, always a joy to spot. And – surprise of surprises! – a Black and White Warbler appears ever so fleetingly in the same tree, but chased off by a Spotted Towhee after a very brief glimpse and no photograph. Dang. First ever sighting of a B 'n W Warbler, though, in the Bay Area.

Lesser Goldfinch is one of three mates at the spring

At the spring, the Warblers give way to the big Adult Male Green-backed Lesser Goldfinch and his two female consorts. They perch at the lip of the spring, flick their feathers about, peck their beaks into the water, shake their little bodies free of excess moisture, and contentedly sit there for a good long while enjoying their private little bath while I capture it all on film (as I was able to do with the Townsend's Warbler the week before).

Lesser Goldfinches sharing the perch

It's a special place, this woodland oasis in our urban midst, where city birds live a wild life, unnoticed, unmolested by all – except maybe a stealth Raptor such as the predacious Red-shouldered or Sharp-shinned Hawk known to frequent the bosque in search of small unsuspecting songbirds . . . not this time, though, and the air fills with sweet tweets.

Townsend's Warbler can't get enough of the cool spring water

PART 3: December 6, 2015

Winter's creep and a weak (so far) El Niño have proffered up a few quenching sprinkles so far, barely enough to alleviate the scary dry conditions of the past few months. Still, the refreshing moisture is a reprieve for once hot, thirsty birds suffering from the aridity and heat that roasted the Bay Area and beyond last summer through the fall.

John Hinkel spring after a night of rain attracts birds aplenty

Fresh run-off from the small spring in Berkeley's John Hinkel Park spills melodiously over a volcanic rock shelf, a very modest discharge cutting a narrow channel through dew-tinged vegetation. This miniature tableau of "grand nature" is always a pretty and soothing sight.

Spring viewed from a distance

In a Zen-simple way, being here connects me and grounds me to the raw earth in the concretized urban environment. I patiently wait for a bird to visit, rapt in the calming sounds of soft gurgling water, attuned to sweet tweets of birds high in the tree tops.

Easily overlooked simple beauty of small spring pool at base of cascade

When, snap, a pretty little Anna's Hummingbird appears and begins flitting in place where a miniature curtain of water whooshes over the mossy rock lip.

Anna's Hummingbird with wings matching leaf color

I'm fascinated by how this bejeweled little dervish dances and hovers in blurry motionlessness, then deftly alights and manages to grip the mossy surface and proceed to sip and dip, dip and sip, shake things off, repeat several times – very much enjoying her private little spa moment!

Anna's Hummingbird motionless in air

What unprecedented agility and ability, what a highly evolved talent, to just be able to hang in space like that! How does such a tiny creature generate and sustain the enormous expenditure of energy needed to accomplish such an everyday common feat? (And much more during mating outlays of energy and insanely arduous migration treks.)

Anna's Hummingbird at 70 beats a minutes

Imagine the tiny heart motor of this five gram bird beating a thousand times over to power her wings at 70 beats a minute during the half-second I'm able to capture her in action.

View of spring freshet from up top near road

It is who she is.

It is what she does.

Anna's Hummingbird fluttering around the spring

This special bird is one of just 3 Hummingbird species out of 300 worldwide and 12 in North America native to our area. And hard to believe that for such a tiny being she possesses the largest brain capacity of any contender in the bird kingdom.

Anna's Hummingbird about to dip

(I've read many references to this body weight / brain weight ratio fact, but can it be true? This tiny being? No matter, they're smart little suckers!)

The precious spring is a life-giving gift to many creatures

I can't take my eyes (or video cam) off her, watching her doing her unwatched thing, observing her operating unobserved in her magnificent Hummingbird world . . . except there's me, a voyeur with a video cam. Is Ms. Anna aware?

Dark-eyed Junco in the runoff for most time spent

Probably she is, and she also intuitively knows I bear no harm or ill intent; more likely, the draw of the water, the prospect of a bath and a drink, is too powerful a magnet to keep her away. When, like her appearance before, snap, she's suddenly gone like a quantum particle.

Hermit Thrush enjoying Toyon berry smorgasbord

On the trail back, I thrill to the sight of a Hermit Thrush flying into a red-berried bush to perch and munch. Pretty little thing.

Ruby-crowned Kinglet deigning to show red "tam"

Oh, and a Ruby-crowned Kinglet flashing his red crown for a nano-second.

Bewick's Wren (as opposed to a Winter Wren - doh!)

And a Winter Wren, not Bewick's Wren, I'm pretty sure, which would mark only a handful of sightings of the elusive Wren.

Winter Wren
(Photo courtesy of Rhododendrites,
CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons)

The three sightings are, in my experience, somewhat rare, or let's say not seen frequently. One other time I saw a Hermit Thrush eating red Toyon berries, and maybe I've seen the Kinglet's shock 'o ruby a dozen times, and the lovely (but very busy) putative Winter Wren, I can't remember when I last saw a local Wren that was not a Bewick's.

Step right up

A visit to John Hinkel Park always yields an interesting bird encounter or three. The park itself is small and quiet, usually absent of people, the air is clean and free from barbecue or chimney smoke, and its moist forest provides a sanctuary for birds, snakes, newts, skinks, and skunks, and no doubt who else.

Excitable little Titmouse

A night cam would reveal deer and possum, possibly coyotes and mountain lions passing through, right here in Wild Berkeley. Recently the carcass of a Great Horned Owl turned up with a mangled neck, probably self-inflicted by a collision with a fence while hunting for small songbirds.

White-crowned Sparrow fattened up

Yes, thank goodness for our city parks, with their sheltering forests and riparian ways, to slake this city dweller's thirst for a tiny taste of nature; to sate this bird lover's fix to be among such heaven-sent creatures; to remind me of the deep connection with the Spirit-That-Moves-In-All-Things, right here in our humble little city parks.