Mourning Dove – My Birding World

Warbler Wobble

February 11, 2020 Elizabeth Olin Comments 0 Comment

AH-CHOO!

Crap. I don’t sneeze unless it’s related to allergies. How can I be sneezing in February (insert “climate change” explanation here)? Sneezing, migraine, and vertigo settle in rendering me unable to do anything but whine on the couch. Sounds of construction overpower any chance of hearing bird activity outside, except for the occasional crow.

This goes on for a couple days when I finally throw on some shoes and risk the great outdoors of my neighborhood. I have to be careful to not swing my head around too much lest the vertigo send a not-so-subtle reminder that I can’t walk straight. “Warbler neck,” the term used to describe neck soreness after staring up into tree tops for warblers, has turned into my dizzying version called “Warbler Wobble.”

The warm, golden glow of the sun cheers me up instantly, accompanied with a chorus of bird calls claiming territories for singing love songs. The Oak Titmouse is the loudest this early evening, with Anna’s Hummingbirds, Least Goldfinches, Mourning Doves, and Yellow-rumped Warblers offering backing vocals.

I stand in one spot straining my neck to see the finches and warblers without the help of binoculars. I’m hoping that the neighbors don’t think I’m weird, although I’ve worn my “Can’t Talk Now… I’m Birding” t-shirt for good measure.

While staring up, I see a woodpecker silhouette on a telephone pole. Wow, what a lot of red! Wait, it’s a Red-breasted Sapsucker! Only the second time I’ve seen one in this neighborhood (and perhaps the same individual) over the years.

AH-CHOO!

There’s my clue that I’ve overextended my stay in the allergied outdoors. I slowly walk home absorbing all the sweet calls and delighted to see a special bird to cheer me up.

My Birding Day: Sycamore Grove Park

May 26, 2019 Elizabeth Olin Comments 0 Comment

Dark-Eyed Junco, Sycamore Grove Park, 2019

It was supposed to rain today. The dark clouds were looming overhead accompanied by chilly winds. Despite the risk of getting wet, we ventured out to Livermore to a local park – Sycamore Grove Park – in search of the rare Blue-gray Tanager. This species is native to southern Mexico through the northern section of South America. It is quite possible that this particular bird is a pet-escapee, in other words, a pet that was released (intentionally or accidentally) back into nature. Nevertheless, birders have flocked to this location to get a glimpse of this bird living its life in Livermore. We tried to locate this bird on a previous birding trip, but after six hours of hunting we gave up.

Blue-Gray Tanager, Sycamore Grove Park, 2019

We found our target bird while eating lunch. An added bonus was watching it sing briefly. Now feeling calm, I was able to really enjoy all the bird activity around me. The theme of the day was immature or recently fledged birds foraging. Lots of little ones were scurrying around, flapping their wings, constantly calling out to their parents for food. Some young birds simply perched in place, such as this Mourning Dove.

Mourning Dove, Sycamore Grove Park, 2019

Other birds were still being fed by their parents, such as this Oak Titmouse and White-breasted Nuthatch.

Oak Titmouse, Sycamore Grove Park, 2019

White-Breasted Nuthatch, Sycamore Grove Park, 2019

The Dark-eyed Juncos I watched were still young but able to forage on their own with parents nearby. They were hopping around, trying little bits of this and that to learn what’s edible or not.

Dark-Eyed Junco, Sycamore Grove Park, 2019

It was a fun afternoon with so much dense birding that we stayed by the parking lot for nearly two hours. Despite it being Memorial Weekend, this normally-busy park was empty of visitors, allowing for a peaceful birding experience.

My Birding Day: Neighborhood Walk

May 14, 2019 Elizabeth Olin Comments 0 Comment

Mourning Dove, 2015

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.

Flowers, 2019

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.

Succulents, 2019