Berkeley Backyard Bird Blog: August 2018

South Fork Yuba River still and quiet

One day, camping on the South Fork Yuba River, I'm roused at dawn by a flurry of bird activity – a phenomenon not wholly unexpected of a quiet mid-summer morn on the Be-Yuba-Ful!

Great Blue Heron
soaring high above the river
then alighting gracefully at water's edge

Steller's Jay
perched leerily on rock
seeking crumbs from the previous night's meal

Mergansers
merry family bobbing along
in the mellow river current

Water Ouzel
John Muir's favorite bird
foraging of a gold-lit early morn
in her inimitable style

Canyon Wren
plaintive trill notes
pitching off a rock wall
favorite bird of John Muir
and Russell Towle

Goldfinches
keeping watchful eye out for
Chickadees bombarding them
are they just having fun?

Trout
breaks limpid water's surface
to snag swarming gnats

Dragonflies
bold-colored beasties
patrol the canyon
like miniature Sikorskys

Two beautiful "chicks" in bathing pool

Wild mink foraging in the early morning

And – sightings of sightings! – a mink appears on the opposite bank, foraging for crawdads in the sand. The beautiful and amazing wild animal gives me a once-over from afar, a curious nonchalant glance before scampering away to the safety of a hidden rock den.

Edenic spot for water striders

The pristine dawning of a new day. An hour passes before breakfast even crosses my mind. The fascinating flurry of sightings sets the tone for an all-day birding and wildlife viewing marathon.

My trusty back-up pair of binos

My binoculars go everywhere with me, so attached am I to them – or they to me – it's a veritable Borg-like integration of biology and technology, my cold, hard binoculars an extension of my warm soft being.

Barefoot birding in our local park

From the moment I arise in the chill dawn on the sandy banks of the river, to the moment I crash under a starry firmament in my sleeping bag, from morning noon to dusk, my trusty 8.5 x 45 Endeavor EDs are my constant companion, accompanying me up and down the rocky river bank, to and fro on ridge top hikes, even while just sitting around the sandy campsite, always, and forever, on the lookout for . . .

BIRDS IN ACTION!

Red Finch cooling off in streamlet

BIRDS BEIN' BIRDS!

Campin' on the ril-ver!

My sleepy-eyed, coffee-drinking camping mates are intrigued. Not being birders, they grapple to understand the compelling nature of "bird watching" – an activity which (to them) must appear to be little more than endless moments of standing around craning one's neck, peering up into trees, scanning environs, or reconnoitering water's edge.

Crow sounding barbaric crow yawp

As the sun begins to warm things up that morning to an eventual 108 degree day, I offer up a prayer of thankful blessings to be on the river, with breezes and shade, albeit not a lot of either, but at least the water is chill!

Big ol' Hawk stare-down

I carry on in full rhapsody mode explaining to my friends my intense scrutiny and illimitable devotion. What, after all, drives this obsession (passionate hobby), this peculiar yearning to plumb mysteries and secrets, to want to know and understand birds, their every behavioral nuance and individualized quirks.

Merganser pair floating down the river

When pressed for more specific information about my relationship to, interest in, and knowledge of birds, a barrage of thoughts, impressions, and opinions spill out.

Venomous Coral Snake (I think!)

Well, my friends, they asked for it, didn't they?

But first, I want them to know:

Chickadee in for a landing

I'm no expert in avian biology and behavior.

Pretty little Rufous Hummingbird (or Allen's perhaps?)

I'm a renegade, lone wolf, rank amateur,

willfully neglecting serious ornithological inquiry.

(Well, for the most part.)

Be-YUBA-ful scenes on the river!

I'm terrible at identification, except maybe for the usual suspects, but even they can have a befuddling optics about them more often than not.

Acorn Woodpeckers caching their stash

I'm completely remiss in hapless efforts to identify distinct vocalizations, even those of the usual suspects, who might have multiple sonorous expressions and variable tweeting songs, cries, screeches, and croaks based on different communication needs.

Oak Titmouse

During my passionate (probably overly-garrulous) spiel, it dawns on me that everything I know (moreso, what I don't know) is informed (or muddled) through daily observation, honed by an intuitive sensibility born of sheer curiosity about nature's infinite variety of animate phenomena, and characterized (mystically so) by an ineffable spiritual connection to birds.

River's magic

(My wife, Ms. Corbin, is of the Raven Tribe.)

Pretty Sapsucker heard banging away early morning

Thus, my love of birds is less a scholarly pursuit or focus of academic inquiry than it is a curiosity-driven passion, a naturalist-oriented approach, a poetic narrative, a sense and appreciation of birds' magnificent otherness.

Hooded Oriole

Birds are arguably the planet's most highly evolved life form – quite a claim! – endowed with super / natural physical prowess and herculean stamina, and armed (winged) with ingenious survival strategies to ensure genetic propagation of individual species and their collective avian kingdom, for over a quarter of a billion years.

Swimming in the river's golden light

Birds are the planet's most hardy, widely dispersed and adaptable life form . . . but also among the most endangered and vulnerable of living beings. Despite their numbers, ten billion or more in total, they teeter on the brink of quick extinction and annihilation at the hands of the planet's other hardy, widely dispersed and adaptable life form . . . ecce Homo.

Swallow's nest (?) high up on cliff face

Because birds are masters of evolutionary adaptation and variation, they've been able to exploit resources and occupy niches other animals can't.

Me and the late great Mike Elsbury in the day

Through age-old evolutionary selection processes and deeply imprinted memories of migration / homing patterns, birds reliably take up residence and frequently visit the planet's propitious and not so propitious environs.

Willow Flycatcher chicks

They've able to easily undertake thousand-plus mile journeys to make their temporary or permanent home any and everywhere they can find food and a mate, build a nest, and lay, hatch eggs, and nurture their brood to fledglinghood.

Supernal beauty and serenity on hidden Yuba spot

Birds are nonesuch creatures endowed with infinite variation and expression, capable of accomplishing seemingly impossible aerial feats of navigation, of hunting prowess, and, with their astounding size to power ratio, birds are blessed with superior technical construction acumen, such as a 6 ounce bird being able to build a stronger and more durable nest than a 200 pound man. (Saw this on a Nova special!)

Urban nest from Smithsonian Gardens exhibition

Birds are – surprise! surprise! – living descendants of dinosaurs, who, of course, never went extinct, but figured out a way to transform and take to the skies to survive.

Dinosaur Skull from Dinosaur National Monument

This extraordinary evolutionary heritage of taxonomic complexity and species biodiversity, guided by tremendous stamina and cellular memory, unmatched survival strategies, and internal GPS systems that put human technology to shame, has propelled birds to global dominance.

Mink slinking away to her den

Featuring prominently in human culture and art since the Stone Age, birds reside in our collective subconscious as auspicious and mythopoeic beings, as iconic symbols of freedom and independence, and tantalize us with their mysterious ways, elusive existence, and unfettered freedom.

South Fork Yuba River near Illinois Crossing

Birds stand apart as ancient beings, here to teach us earthbound humans a thing or two about the wondrous nature of existence, the existence of nature's wonders.

Caspian Terns gathered on sand bar

About their magnificent otherness.

Western Fence Lizard soaking up the sun on hot rock

Here, I break rhythm to point up to a bough in a gnarled oak tree on the other side of the river for a fleeting glimpse of a Western Tanager. A beauty to be sure, but too far away to get a decent photo.

Western Tanager playing in the brush

Seconds later, I shout excitedly, "Look! A Goshawk alighting on a jagged tree snag!" And, then, unbelievable, a Belted Kingfisher whooshes downstream and disappears around a bend in the river.

Sleeping is over-rated on the river!

My camping mates seem genuinely excited over the sightings. (But they were all snoozing when I spotted the mink at dawn!)

Another take on the Coral Snake

So, see, you don't have to be a die-hard birder to be into birds, for birds are found everywhere, in case you haven't noticed. Which, sadly, most haven't.

Painted striations of lichen and moss

With the exception of town square Pigeons, unruly mobs of neighborhood Crows, or gansta Geese on the green, non-birder people pass the test with flying colors – ignoring birds, that is, because . . . well, they're just flighty little balls of fluff, aren't they.

Mess of bones at river's edge

Barely noticeable blurs of fat and feathers in their quotidian comings and goings (doing what, exactly?). Mere tiny animations in the busy backdrop of life, right.

Painterly impressions on the Yuba River

WRONG!

Bird in twisty tree

Hans Christian Andersen,

who knew a thing or three about birds, noted:

Mom's "ordinary things"

"The whole world is a series of miracles,
but we’re so used to seeing them
that we call them ordinary things."

Beetle in search of sweetness

Thank goodness, we have Confucius

to thank for the handy apothegm:

The commonplace

"A common man marvels at uncommon things.

A wise man marvels at the commonplace."

Prehistoric acorn grinding holes

On a bright note, have you ever felt happy and content in a woodsy setting, or on your porch, with the birds chirping away, coming and going at your feeder?

Birdies hitting the jackpot

Well – surprise! surprise! – birdsong changes our brains by attuning us to the innumerable but oft-overlooked mysteries around us:

Peaceful, easy feeling

Nature's nuanced reminders of our

inter-connectedness with all things!

Surveying the world from on high

Just being in the presence of birds, listening to their meditative melodies, has been scientifically measured to induce harmony and well-being, uplift the psyche and elevate the human spirit by stimulating neural networks that flush the brain with happiness endorphins and activating birdsong tryptamine receptors. Really!

Dragonfly holding on

Being a devoted observer of the comings and goings of anywhere from 10 to 50 species of birds (I spot thirty-three during our three-day camping interlude) involves a stubborn willingness, a mindless (or mindful) transcendent state of being (or non-doing), to stand by idly, waiting, waiting, for interminably long stretches of time . . . and for what?

I am NOT "just" a drab little bird!

To "thrill" at another mundane sighting

of a "drab" old Towhee or Bushtit?

My little Chickadee

But look, listen, observe closely, and long enough,

even the drab old Towhee and Bushtit are anything but.

Vulture on the wing

Jon Young, author of "What the Robin Knows"

says of so-called "boring" birds:

Yuba world awakening

"When we really see and hear

and begin to understand

these and other birds,

the revelations are fun, enthralling, even vital."

Junco taking a dip

A curious child-like attitude thus infuses every outing, every errand, with a spontaneous opportunity to spot and appreciate birds, to have fun, enthrall, seek out and connect with vital energies, enhancing a deep brain connection to and soulful intimacy with birds – and to the natural world.

Minute pebbles caught in bubble of water on leaf

Thoreau grokked the down-low low-down:

Leaves dancing in web world

"Nature will bear the closest inspection.

She invites us to lay our eye level

with her smallest leaf,

and take an insect view of its plain."

Hummingbird at rest

And, while we're at it, Hank, a bird's-eye view!

Red-tailed Hawk

Ultimately, though, what keeps the game exciting, is the hope to experience that serendipitous encounter, the holy grail of birders: the unlikely appearance of a never before spotted bird. Such synchronicity does happen, if but rarely.

Magpies enjoying picking deer carcass clean to the bone

Imagine the surprise of being in the right place at the right time and a rarely sighted bird appears, in living color, manifest for a few fleeting seconds!

American Dipper (aka Water Ouzel)

When such a bird appears out of nowhere, your day is automatically brightened and enriched in a way that scrolling through images of nature and birds on a computer screen can never equal.

Birds in the zone

(Especially my bird photos, for the most part!)

Majestic nature along the river

Even seeing a so-called common bird occasions a smile, a knowing understanding, a heartfelt sentiment, an interesting insight, a neural attuning to nature's deepest secrets and mysteries, in fact.

Hermit Thrush (I imagine)

Dare I profess that spotting a Prothonotary Warbler or some exotic Madagascar bird is the gratifying equivalent of bearing witness to any unseen or unknown animal, whether a Snow Leopard, Orca, Dugong, Sun Bear, Sloth, or Clownfish.

Sun Bear (Oakland Zoo)

Size or species doesn't matter!

Provenance be damned!

Charismatic megafauna, overrated!

Bearded Barbet (Tracy Aviary, Salt Lake City)

For who could not thrill equally at a Prothonotary Warbler – perhaps a once in a lifetime sighting tantamount to seeing for the first time a Tiger Salamander or polar bear? For the common denominator is the comparative rarity of the encounter, the thrill one experiences in seeing a singular animal for the first time, not which kind of animal, or how big it was, or if you had to climb Himalayan heights to see it.

Orange-crowned Warbler (seen just one time in my birding days)

Such sightings – whether avian, amphibian, reptile or mammal (or tree, plant, lichen, moss, fungi, and rock, for that matter) – no matter large or small, finned, feathered or furred (or barked, slimy and shiny surfaced) – all are worthy of wonderment and apotheosis from the tiniest bird in your backyard to the biggest cetacean (or tree) in the world!

Yuba River camping (always smoke-free of campfires!)

My camping mates (still enthralled) are not sold. Well, I guess you have to be a biased and impassioned birder to ascribe to such a (hyperbolic) sentiment . . .

Band-tailed Pigeon high up in tree

Keep in mind, such profound revelations are not strictly reserved for once in a lifetime sightings of rarely seen birds, for even a pair of Banded-tailed Pigeons roosting on a high tree branch down the street (previously a woodlands sighting only), or the random urban appearance of a White Dove, or a Brown Creeper feeding her very tiny little ones, hidden deep in the barky crevasse of a Redwood in a local park, will do to augment the day's magic and pageantry.

Brown Creeper gathering up nesting material

But when news of a particularly striking wayward bird gets around, people freak! They will flock from hundreds or thousands of miles away on the drop of a dime to travel to the ends of earth, for the off-chance of spotting the bird. This reeks of fanaticism (and elitism) (and passion) – and for what?

Flowers popping up in dry earth

Bragging rights, mainly, but deep down, we birders know it's the thrill of the "chase" (right word?), the hope of "bagging" (wrong word?) that rare bird to check it off your Life List. But it also goes back to my earlier point of partaking in a special visual encounter / spiritual communion, with a singular, heretofore unseen creature of the earth.

Great Egret on the prowl

Birds fit the bill.

Even the butt-ugly Buzzard

All this standing around and waiting about in silent Zen moments of patient nature gazing is, or should be, prime time for inward reflection and focus on the minutiae of nature's hidden (but in plain sight), and little (but oh so grand) miracles.

Rocky, jagged cliffs rising above the Yuba River

The sacred and sublime imbuing your world, an ephemeral moment of "contact" in an intimate connection with a sentient being. (Even though you know the bird is completely absent of such feelings or "connections" but that doesn't matter one bit.)

Anna's Hummingbird seeking nectar

But, ah, to espy a little Titmouse or Hummingbird, only to see him flit away, gone forever, renders that tiny insignificant event no less sacred in the scheme of things, all things being sacred.

White Dove if I've ever seen one

Of course, birding is an activity best done as a solitary pursuit (or with other birders), because such a dilatory hobby tends to put you at risk of being left behind by hiking partners not so into birding. And for what?

Lazuli Bunting: NOT seen a zillion times!

A fleeting glimpse of a bird you've seen a zillion times,

that's what!

Ants busy dissecting dragonfly

But so what!

Steller's Jay hunkering down

Because, in truth, any glimpse of any bird, no matter how fleeting, or mundane, or repetitious, or common, is a precious thing – there may come a day when birds no longer exist, driven to extinction by humanity's careless stupidity and greed.

Red-legged Frog on the river (I think)

And then what?

Well, we won't be around either, in that case.

Captivating beauty on the Yuba River

Birding, I let my friends know, is not just something you'll find me doing when out and about in nature, here on the Yuba.

White-tailed Kite

I'm equally content (and passionate) looking for birds just standing on my porch or hanging out in my overgrown backyard, as I am hiking the High Sierra, patrolling birding hot spots at Point Reyes National Seashore, or lolly-gagging in bird-rich Mount Diablo State Park.

Urban birding: Cedar Waxwing

David Lindo, author of "Tales From Concrete Jungles" effuses:

Red-shouldered Hawk spotted in city park

"There is not a day when I don't marvel at the nature

that surrounds me in my urban environment . . .

when you start to see the urban world as a habitat with cliffs, woodland, marshes, lakes, rivers and scrubland,

that is when you start to see birds."

Finch found his sweet spot on 108-degree Yuba day

Because birds, by their very nature, force us to closely inspect our most intimate surroundings, they are a conduit to connect us to, and bridge the gap, of earth and sky and spaces between.

Quail on the trail

Among their dazzling talents, have you ever noticed their superb eye-claw coordination, how they're able to fly into a bush at top speed and manage to expertly dull their momentum and clasp onto a branch without missing a beat.

Hunkered down Hawk

Ever see a bird stumble?

Yuba green water world

Birds are masterful aviation and navigation control experts. Except, of course, when they fly headlong and unsuspecting into ill-designed wind turbine blades or invitingly reflective skyscraper windows or sucked into jet engines. They're no match for outsized bird-dangerous human technology.

Lesser Goldfinch doing something

The art of birding can be a frustrating activity, if you let it, if the pursuit of knowledge and identity certification is your chief goal.

Lark Sparrow with distinctive look

Because more often than not, you're left with the feeling of being denied, blanked, shut out of such-and-such a bird's microcosmic existence in some dense shrubbery or in a high cluster of boughs, or foraging out on distant mudflats, never to know what bird it was, where it disappeared to, what its intent was, or its thought (instinct) process.

Ducks, Coots and Whonot

Because more often than not, you're left standing there to be content only to hear a plaintive cry, a longing twill, a beautiful song of presence, or a screech announcing something of great import – but what? – for a breeding partner, a territorial challenge, or merely to sing a song for sheer joy, as the case may be.

River stones

So, any burning, yearning desire to know something of what makes birds tick, requires some serious lucubration poring over academic tomes and reference guides. I prefer to follow Walt Whitman's advice:

Chipmunk munching on wild berry

"You must not know too much or be too precise or scientific about birds and trees and flowers and watercraft; a certain free-margin , or even vagueness – ignorance, credulity – helps your enjoyment of these things."

Black Phoebe resting

Amen, Walt.

Some bird's clutch

Eric Berne, a Canadian psychiatrist, echoed Whitman's sentiment:

Spotted Towhee

“The moment a little boy is concerned

with which is a jay and which is a sparrow,

he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing."

Napping in the shade on a hot Yuba day

In the process serving up a zen lesson urging us in metaphoric language to become more present / more in the moment to fully take in one's surroundings without mental distractions and over-analytic thinking and perceptions about nature.

Weirdness of Mother Nature seen in bizarre dragonfly

In other words, slow down, stop, even, and don't just see, but look; don't just hear, but listen. Even put down your binoculars and set aside the viewing scopes. No pens, smart phones with instant bird app knowledge at your fingertips.

Fledgling Pacific-slope Flycatcher

Just you and the birds, alone, on equal footing.

Cactus Wren nest

Because birds are an enduring mystery, we may never know everything about them, try as we might to plumb the scientific depths of their tweeting presence. And knowing too much, as Walt cautioned, would probably suck the mystery out of our love affair with birds.

Mother Goose

Lindo exhorts:

Western Kingbird

"Go ahead and fall in love.

The birds will love you back unconditionally and will continue

to fascinate you until you draw your last breath."

Canada Goose in painterly pose

Extraordinary Ordinary Birds:

The never-ending pursuit of sweetness in life

Our fellow inhabitants on our one and only Earth! Let us embrace birds, respect them, admire them . . . not murder endangered ones for selfish pursuits of the palate, or kill them with negligent and unthinking uses of horrific poisons, or allow uncontrolled feral and pet feline menaces to stalk and brutalize and maim them.