Scenes Through the Rear View Mirror

On the move yet again...

Well, I'm back in Gainesville. I'm counting down the days until fall migration starts, and I promised Glenn that our reward for moving and unpacking in the midst of a Florida summer will be a day tubing at Ichetucknee Springs. We'll also snorkel with the manatees in Crystal River in the winter. And of course, there are zillions of Florida birding hotspots we still haven't hit.

But I'll never see our little apartment in Costa Mesa again. We were fantastically lucky to be 15 minutes away from some of Orange County's best birding spots—Huntington Central Park, Bolsa Chica, and the San Joaquin Marsh. Of course, we can always go back during our visits to my family in Los Angeles, but this will require a 90-minute drive and—the horror!—advanced planning. I'll miss having Bolsa Chica as a convenient place to procrastinate.

The only birds I saw during my last trips to my usual spots were the usual summer suspects. (The only noteworthy bird I encountered in my last week was a Least Bell's Vireo, which was singing loudly but remaining stubbornly out of sight.) So I gave up hunting for non-existent rarities, and instead made a point of trying to get shots of some typical scenes from a Southern California summer.

Here's a common sight at Talbert: a Matilija Poppy, aka "Fried Egg Poppy". These are apparently native to California.


Bolsa Chica in the summer is a sure-fire spot to see Elegant Terns, a So Cal specialty. The shot contains hundreds of them, along with Caspian, Forster's , and Least Terns. It was unclear what flushed this giant flock into the air:

Another summer treat at Bolsa Chica is the chance to see nesting Least Terns and Snowy Plovers up close. Even adult Snowy Plovers have that baby cuteness about them:

And to conclude the nature shots, here is California's state bird, the California Quail. This guy was at San Joaquin Marsh, along with a covey of about 20 others, mostly babies:

While beautiful, these birds are jaw-droppingly dim: when I was small, I was shocked to see our arthritic and slow-witted dog actually catch and kill one—while tethered on a leash! Choosing the dumbest bird in the world as our state mascot was NOT a smart move. Whoever pulled that off couldn't have played up the gorgeous-but-vapid Californian stereotype any more if he tried.

Finally, here's an ode to the non-bird-related institution I'll miss most:

Sloth

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care. The shoes were another story.

Winter is the time when nature dials back and retrenches: trees are bare, fields lie fallow, and birds and animals quietly gather their strength for the frenzy of spring migration and breeding. And thus it is for humans too: winter is a time of rest and redemption, of reflection and quiet anticipation of new beginnings.

And this is my official excuse for sitting on my bum doing nothing for the greater part of the week.

Christmas was everything I hoped it would be: the rainy weather was a perfect excuse to relax indoors with the family, catch up with a year of gossip, and feast on amazing food—it seems that my family's Christmas spreads just get better every year.

As soon as the rain passed, of course, my mind turned to birding. The Orange County Birding listserv was buzzing as usual with lots of interesting sightings, but for some reason, I didn't feel like chasing too hard. Part of this was low-level burnout after the 15-hour marathon that was the Gainesville Christmas Bird Count (during which I aggravated an already bad cold, pulled a chest muscle from coughing, and infected half the membership of Alachua Audubon), and part of it was just...sloth. I was home, and I didn't feel like wandering.

So my birding outings this week have been boring and predictable-yet, for me, deeply enjoyable. During long walk through Talbert Nature Reserve down to the beach on Sunday, I found about 20 Canvasbacks in the little pond by the Victoria Street bridge. At Huntington Central Park yesterday, I tried and failed to locate the McGillivray's Warbler and Black-throated Gray Warbler by the Gothard Street parking lot. They certainly could have been in there, though—when we arrived, warblers were calling and darting through the trees everywhere. About 90% of them were Yellow-rumpeds, but there were also good numbers of Common Yellowthroats, as well as Orange-crowned, Wilson's, and Townsend's Warblers:


There were so many birds flying around that finding the lone McGillivray's in the crowd would have been like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. Glenn played its song a few times on his iPod, with no response (at least not from the McGillivray's Warbler—it did manage to seriously piss off a Hermit Thrush, who jumped up and glared as us for about a minute before taking off again).

A few minutes later, we ran into another birder who told us he had just seen a Yellow-throated Vireo. So of course, we followed him back to the spot where he had seen it, and found—after about half an hour of looking—that it had taken off. But we still had fun watching a huge flock of Cedar Waxwings plucking berries from the trees and fighting for perching space.

At Bolsa Chica yesterday afternoon, we didn't see anything we hadn't seen before. But after coming back from north-central Florida, where birders can usually expect to see at most two or three duck species at a time, and usually at spotting-scope-only distance, it was fun being on the Bolsa Chica footbridge again—Lesser Scaups, Ruddy Ducks, Cinnamon Teals, Northern Shovelers, Mallards, Northern Pintails, Buffleheads, and Surf Scoters were all bobbing around only a few yards away. I realize now how lucky I am to have learned to bird out here!

We stayed at Bolsa Chica until it was dark, so Glenn could get some sunset shots. I love watching the birds fly in for the night.


For the past few years, this was always how we ended our weekends: watching the Sunday evening sunset at Bolsa Chica before heading home to gear up for the week ahead. But the great thing about being on vacation is that I still have a few more weekend days to go!

Parting Shots

Today is my last full day in California, and the last day of my week-long birding "staycation". I've been spending every moment not dedicated to relocation-related bureaucracy out in the field, getting my last fix of Western birds. Knowing that I won't be back for a while makes even ordinary birds seem precious—which, of course, they have been all along.

On my last visit to Bolsa Chica, I was greeted by a huge swarm—"flock" doesn't seem like the right word—of peeps. They flew in formation, their collective mass constantly changing shape and density, for about 5 minutes before landing on a mudflat out in the distance. What made them decide to land there? And which of them made that decision for the group, and how?

There were the usual large number of herons, egrets, and cormorants. Here, some Double-crested Cormorants hit some interesting poses:


Monday was my self-designated Day of Decadence: a morning farewell visit to San Joaquin, followed by a huge bowl of spicy beef noodle soup at a Taiwanese hole-in-the-wall, followed by a massage and herbal bath at a spa in Mission Viejo (courtesy of a two-year-old gift certificate I finally got around to redeeming). At San Joaquin, there were shorebirds in abundance in the front ponds. The back areas were not so birdy, but butterflies were everywhere:


I've more or less made peace with the fact of my move, and have been started to look forward to it. But when I called up the Los Angeles Times this morning to cancel my subscription, I felt like crying. As always, I had to remind myself that this move is the right thing to do, professionally and personally, and the right option is rarely ever the easy and comfortable one.

Things I'll miss about So Cal: Bolsa Chica. Jacarandas in the spring. Steve Lopez. Townsend's Warblers in the winter. Real Chinese food. And of course, my family and friends—and most of all, Glenn, who will be staying behind for his job. Hell, I'll even miss Huell Howser.

Things I won't miss about So Cal: Earthquakes. SigAlerts. Overpriced real estate. USC.

And then there are all those Florida birds to look forward to—and I hope to continue writing about them once I get my new job and home under control. It could be fun.

Later, gator.

The Incredible Six-Legged Plover!

We spotted this unusual Snowy Plover at Bolsa Chica last weekend. It, along with several other Snowys and nesting Least Tern families, were in the fenced-off area by the inland end of the footbridge.

I always suspected that no good would come from birds breeding in an abandoned oil field.

Okay, here's what was really going on...

Aawww...!

One of the few things cuter than a Snowy Plover is a baby Snowy Plover. We spotted several of them at Bolsa Chica (in the fenced-off area just across the footbridge from the parking lot) during a short pre-work birding fix today.

Almost as endearing was a pair of courting Least Terns nearby: one (I assume the male) was desperately proffering fish to an uppity female, who'd then walk in snooty little circles around him for several minutes before deigning to accept his gift.

Less cute was the large dead seal lying belly-up by the water's edge, and the presence of hungry-looking American Crows nearby. We had originally come to find the equally non-cute Gull-billed Terms (which are known predators of Least Tern eggs), but only got passing glimpses of random odd-looking Terns that might have been them. I should have brought my spotting scope.

But... if that little baby Snowy isn't the cutest thing ever, I don't know what is!

Thankful

                     Yum, yum!

The Thanksgiving holiday has been a welcome respite from my insane work schedule. We had our customary decadant dose of turkey and stuffing with my family up in L.A., AND two extra days to spend birding—what more could we want?

Even though we didn't spot too many rarities, just being outdoors with our cast of regulars was enough to be thankful for. My family, quite sensibly, has always eaten Thanksgiving dinner late (since everyone gets sleepy after a big dose of turkey, why not hold off the feast until just before bedtime?) Thus, Glenn and I had most of Thanksgiving day to spend outdoors looking for birds.

We started out at TeWinkle Park in Costa Mesa, where a couple of Hooded Mergansers and Yellow-throated Warbler were spotted last year. No rarities of that magnitude have been spotted there recently, but it still has a pretty pond filled with feisty ducks and herons, and is a pleasant place for strolling and photography. And as is the case with any park, occasional surprises do show up: last week, we saw this bird, who appears to be a female Summer Tanager:



Then we headed to the Upper Newport Bay, where we spotted two of the Eurasian Wigeons reported there earlier in the week. We also spotted a loon off near the opposite side of the bay, but from where we were, we couldn't tell what kind it was (most likely, it was the Pacific Loon reported during the last Sea and Sage monthly survey of the area).

On Friday, we celebrated Buy Nothing Day at Bolsa Chica, which was as jammed with waterfowl as South Coast Plaza was with shoppers. Over 100 Double-crested Cormorants were swimming near the footbridge, as were dozens of Brown Pelicans, Lesser Scaups, and Western Grebes. Near the tidegates were several Redheads mingling with the Scaups, as well as dozens of Snowy Egrets and White Pelicans. The only unusual birds we found were the resident Reddish Egret and a male Eurasian Wigeon, who was vocalizing loudly in one of the back lagoons.

We also saw, from a distance, the infamous bird-killing glass wall surrounding the McMansions on top of the bluff. I noticed strips of yellow tape—the kind used for police barricades—flapping from the wall: Were these put up in response to bird concerns? And who did it?

I learned during today's Sea and Sage Audubon trip to Bolsa Chica (can't get enough of that place!) that the tape wasn't actually attached to the wall, but to a chain-link fence that had just been installed directly behind the wall, in response to birders' concerns.



While a clearly imperfect solution (its looks won't go over well with homeowners, and small birds may still fly into the glass when trying to move through the fence), it at least shows that birders aren't as wimpy they look: we have the moral authority and clout to push people to do the right thing.

And this is something else to be thankful for.

Canyon Park and Banning Ranch

Pacific-slope Flycatcher at Canyon Park

A few weeks ago, Glenn was honored to have a couple of his photos selected for the 2008 Wings Over Bolsa Chica calendar. Besides the honor of knowing his photographic skills are helping a worthy cause, he got a number of free calendars (our Christmas shopping is done!), and was invited to the monthly meeting of the Bolsa Chica Land Trust, along with the other selected photographers, for the unveiling of the calendar.

At the meeting were representatives of another worthy group endorsed by the Bolsa Chica Land Trust: Save Banning Ranch.

Banning Ranch is the big plot of land hugging the southern bank of the Santa Ana River mouth, tucked between Huntington Beach and Costa Mesa. It was/is an oil field, filled with rusty derricks in various stages of (non)functionality. These are frequently topped with resting Osprey, White-tailed Kites, or Loggerheaded Shrikes—I know this because I run and bird frequently along the banks of the Santa Ana River.

Banning Ranch is privately owned, and its owners have hatched various nefarious plots of filling the space with yet another hotel and shopping center. (The most recent of these was quashed by local governments concerned about traffic.)

The Save Banning Ranch group has a better plan: the area is already home to a number of threatened birds and other animals. It's surrounded on all sides by parks (Talbert Nature Reserve to the east, Canyon Park in Costa Mesa to the south, and Huntington State Beach (and the Least Tern/Snowy Plover preserve) to the west. These areas are all popular with hikers and bikers—why not make Banning Ranch a part of this? It would restore some much-needed wetlands, and provide opportunities for outdoor recreation and natural history education to a community that badly needs it.

And all we have to do is rally up public support and find several bazillion dollars to buy the land at fair market value before it turns into yet another Triangle Square!

Glenn and I were on board immediately: we have a soft spot for both hopeless causes and long birding walks from Talbert to the beach. Glenn promised one of their representatives that he'd send him some bird photos he'd taken in the area, and then decided that he wanted more.

This is where our weekend birding began.

Our plan was to park in Fairview Park, which adjoins Talbert Nature Reserve, then walk through Talbert and down to the beach. The parking lot at Fairview was full, so we headed instead to nearby Canyon Park off 19th Street in Costa Mesa: we knew that it also connected to the bike trail along the river, and we had heard that it was a good birding spot as well.

The park was quiet when we first passed though, early on Saturday morning. We headed towards the beach, hoping to see the Reddish Egret that I'd been seeing there fairly regularly—no dice. The Banning Ranch area was also uncharacteristically quiet, which bummed me out—I kept telling Glenn about all the fun stuff I'd been seeing there, and the one time I get him out there with his tripod and big lens, all we could find were a few House Wrens and Blue-gray Gnatcatchers. Glenn took a few shots of a Brown Pelican sitting in the spot where the Reddish Egret normally hangs out, and we headed upriver to Talbert.

In Talbert, we saw a short aerial battle between an American Kestrel and a Cooper's Hawk, as well as a late Ash-throated Flycatcher. At one point, I was buzzed insistently by one of those big, iridescent green beetles—I don't know what they are called. Glenn had been wanting a photo of one of these for a while, but they rarely ever land—so he insisted that I stand still so the thing would land on me and he could finally get a shot. The bug was content to stay on my hat even when I took it off:

Our luck improved when we headed back to Canyon Park: we were delighted to find the park filled with unusually bold warblers: Yellow-rumped, Wilson's, Townsend's, Orange-crowned, and Black-throated Greys were everywhere, and some let us get quite close. Also numerous and bold were Pacific-slope Flycatchers, Western Wood-Pewees, White-crowned Sparrows, and Anna's and Allen's/Rufous Hummingbirds. A couple of Warbling Vireos and Red-shouldered Hawks were also in the mix.

I couldn't wait to go back this morning: if we had seen all that just after noon after four hours of trekking, what else would we find first thing in the morning, now that we knew where to look?

The answer: Nearly nothing. The gusty winds kept most of the birds hunkered out of sight, and we headed home after only about half an hour.

But our long Saturday walk made me realize how many great birding spots there are within (long) walking distance of our place. And if the fight to preserve Banning Ranch is won, things will only get better.

Hot Days and Cool Birds

The Least Tern breeding season is over, and Glenn and I have completed our minor role in sheparding the next generation of yappy little dive-bombers into adulthood. I'll miss those mornings on the beach, watching the little chicks grow into fledglings, and the fledglings learning the hunting and flying skills of adults. What I'll miss less is the behavior of human adults and their often less-than-sympathetic attitudes towards sharing the beach with any creature that doesn't surf. Grrr.

So on Saturday morning, instead of the cool of the beach, we faced down the heat and humidity of Laguna Niguel Regional Park (or, as the synthesized voice on Glenn's GPS unit inexplicably calls it, "Laguna Niguel Regional Pennsylvania". Huh?). Because of the heat, Glenn didn't feel like carrying his camera and big lens very far, so we stayed near the bottom of the park and birded the fenced-off area near the tennis courts.

Our little zone did not disappoint: it was very birdy. Among our sightings: Wilsons' Warblers, Warbling Vireos, Nutmeg Mannikins, a Nuttall's Woodpecker, and a large number of female/immature Bullock's Orioles. I'm sure there was a lot more in there to be ferreted out, as evidenced by Robert McNab's post on OC Birding on his Sunday trip to LNRP—he clearly knows a lot more about birds than I do. I definitely want to get back and spend more time there.

On Saturday afternoon, we returned to Bolsa Chica, in large part because it's by the sea, and thus cooler than inland locales. Unfortunately, every beach-goer in OC got the same idea, and we arrived at the parking lot by the footbridge only to find it completely occupied by carloads of people toting beach towels, coolers, and boogie boards (despite the "No Beach Parking" signs prominently displayed.)

So we headed instead to our much-less-convenient secret parking spot (no, I'm not saying where it is), cut down Wintersburg Channel (okay, that's your only hint) and set off.

At the tidegates, about half a dozen Black Skimmers were gliding over the water, and a number of Elegant, Caspian, and Forster's Terns were busy hunting. The water was high and clear, and we could see small sharks and skates, as well as huge schools of fish of various sizes, swimming right at the water's edge. It reminded me that it's about time I took a scuba refresher course.

Our most notable sighting at Bolsa Chica was a female Red-breasted Merganser swimming by the tidegates. We see them there regularly during the winter, but this was the first time I've seen one there during the summer.



We stayed late, since Glenn wanted to take photos of the terns and skimmers at sunset. While he shot away, I wandered down Wintersburg Channel to look for sandpipers. We had decided not to chase the Buff-breasted Sandpiper (for some reason, I felt pessimistic about our chances of seeing it, and Glenn hates shooting at Harriet Wieder Park), but I wanted to see something other than terns and Mallards. In the marshy area west of the channel, I spotted several Lesser Yellowlegs, Western Sandpipers, Black-bellied Plovers, and Semipalmated Plovers.

We were racing against the dark as we headed back to our car. As we strode down the path along the channel, we saw a flock of Canada Geese fly down and land in the lagoon across the channel from us. In the bean field, we saw a very bold coyote who didn't seem to mind as Glenn took numerous flash photos of him.

By time we got home, it was already 8:30 p.m.

Sunday morning was occupied by work-related stuff (for me), so no birding until late afternoon. We went to Crystal Cove, where we spotted a Roadrunner on the path in front of us, on the bluff right by our parking area. It took off just before Glenn could get a shot of it. On the beach, we saw Black Turnstones, Ruddy Turnstones, Black-bellied Plovers, Willets, and California, Western, and Heerman's Gulls.

Nothing mind-blowing, but a day at the beach is never anything to complain about.