My Birding World

It was cloudy and humid outside, nature preparing for a rare “late-season atmospheric river” set to hit the Bay Area. I watched a Mourning Dove in its fresh tan plumage displaying large black spots on its wings. I marveled at the metallic pink clump of feathers near its throat and a sky-blue eye ring. It was gently picking up a stick here and there, dropping the ones that didn’t met its nesting standards. The dove finally selected a long, green stick and noisily flew away from sight. I wondered if the nest will survive the upcoming storm.

A recycling truck chased me around the neighborhood for a couple of blocks, effectively cutting out my ability to bird by ear. I silently thanked the workers for doing a job that is so important for the environment but tends to be a thankless task. I turned my attention to the various flowers lining the carefully landscaped homes. Bright pinks, oranges, and purples sprouted everywhere and I was lost in the sea of colors until the recycling truck and I parted ways.

A Lesser Goldfinch conducted a perfect imitation of an Oak Titmouse and I listed to its song for several minutes. Bushtits flocked from bush to tree to bush. My attention was grabbed by a pair of young Chestnut-backed Chickadees squeaking out a baby babble’s version of the chickadee call while furiously flapping their wings. A parent nearby was hopping on branches, poking under leaves, and clinging to house walls in search of food for its babies. The short, half hour walk ended with the sun peeking out momentarily before slipping back behind the clouds.