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Nature Journaling

Nature Journaling

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Harris's Sparrow

Harris’s Sparrow

A few months ago, I started keeping a nature journal. The idea was to jot down observations about birds and nature, write mindful reflections, or even get creative, such as tracing tree leaves to create my own personal field guide (I am lacking in illustrative skills, so tracing an object is about the best I can do).

In researching ideas for nature journaling, I found that a common suggestion was to get a notebook that can be carried into the field for in-the-moment writing opportunities. Since I prefer to immerse myself into nature completely on my walks, I ended up buying a standard composition book that I keep at home. When inspiration strikes, I jot down a few notes on my phone, and then carve out some time later in the day to write in the nature journal.

My mom suggested that I include a reflection on the entire year for future reference. I easily filled a page with notes including: the initial Shelter-in-Place in March that resulted in reduced pollution from less traffic and planes, the concerning lack of rain, and the extended fire season. I noted that Townsend’s Warblers and Hermit Warblers were seen more on the ground rather than the trees this year (some have wondered if insect populations are declining causing the warblers to forage in different locations). There’s been an explosion of Pine Siskins in the neighborhood due to the irruption year. All these things will be interesting to look back on in future years.

Nature journaling is quite popular, and a Google search will yield a ton of hits on how to approach it. If this is of interest to you, my advice is to first think about your goals, and then determine how you can meet those goals. Don’t get caught up in which an article claims a nature journal “should be.” Approach it in the way that is best for you.

Here’s to a calm and hopeful new year!

My Birding Day: Point Reyes Visitor Center

My Birding Day: Point Reyes Visitor Center

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It’s been a warm August with a severe lack of serious birding adventures. But I was in luck – a cool day was expected at Point Reyes Bear Valley Visitor Center! Skeptical of the weather forecast (it’s often cool along the coast, not so much at the visitor center), we grabbed lunch and headed out. I kept on eyeing the car’s thermometer. It held steady in the upper 60s. Perfect.

We gathered at a quiet picnic bench and watched a Black Phoebe occasionally dart after a flying creature. A mother California Quail took up a post awkwardly on a spindly bush that threatened to dip under the weight. Acorn Woodpeckers were laughing all around.

For the first time in probably months, we walked the Bear Valley trail and enjoyed the cool weather under the canopy of trees. Every once in a while, a flurry of bird activity could be spotted from above. Straining our necks, we found plenty of acrobatic Chestnut-backed Chickadees, a couple of Brown Creepers shuffling up thin branches, and a few splashes of bright yellow of the Wilson’s Warblers. But the highlight was the Townsend’s Warblers. Our colorful winter visitors have arrived!

For years, our nemesis bird had been the Pileated Woodpecker. We searched and searched and searched all the way from Lake Tahoe to the coast and could never confidently ID their flicker-like call. But we were finally able to add them to our life list last year after we saw two fly overhead while calling on the same trail we were now hiking. Since then, we’ve occasionally heard their loud wok-wok-wok call at Point Reyes. Today, I heard one call but sadly Gabe didn’t catch it. After straining our ears during the nearly two mile walk back to the car, he sadly admitted defeat in hearing the woodpecker this time. But just as Gabe lost hope, we heard two calls, and one popped out of the trees briefly allowing us our second lifetime glance at this gorgeous creature. We lucked out after all!

My Birding Day – Briones Regional Park

My Birding Day – Briones Regional Park

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Yesterday, I visited Briones Regional Park, which is located in the East Bay. It was the middle of the week and there was a striking absence of park visitors at the Bear Creek Staging Area. When I stepped out of the car, I was greeted with a cool, crisp breeze. A chorus of bird calls and chip notes sprang from the ground. Dark-eyed juncos, white-crowned sparrows, and golden-crowned sparrows ignored my presence as they focused their attention on finding sustenance.

Golden-Crowned Sparrow, 2018

The hike up Abrigo Valley Trail was unusually quiet. I hardly spotted or heard any birds except for three red-tailed hawks that were ever-present during the two-hour hike. Up, up, up I walked along the dirt trail until I reached a picnic area. I had visited this spot over the summer and found the rare indigo bunting which made itself at home amongst the luscious purple-flowered thistles that took over the landscape. The bunting was long gone, but white- and golden-crowned sparrows (which I affectionately call “crown sparrows”), lesser goldfinches, and western bluebirds danced atop the crisp, dried thistle remains. When I closed my eyes, I could hear the thistle rattle against the breeze.

Northern Flicker feather found on a previous hike, 2018. Note the red shaft (hard piece down the center) that indicates a “red-shafted” Northern Flicker.

The walk back yielded more birds – odd as it was the noon hour and general wisdom suggests that birds are more active at dusk and dawn. Fall birding is not as musical as spring birding when birds are singing for mates and announcing their territories. Instead, I had to rely on picking out slight movements in the trees, which is a difficult task when the leaves are blowing in the wind. But the patience is worth it. I saw an oak titmouse grab something fat and green and repeatedly smack it against a branch. A female Townsend’s warbler flew into my view while I watched the titmouse. I caught a bigger movement out of the corner of my eye and out popped a Nuttall’s woodpecker with crisp white lines down her back. I accidentally scattered a dozen or so dark-eyed juncos that were expertly camouflaged on the ground, flicking their diagnostic white-lined tail feathers in retreat.

Dark-Eyed Junco, “Oregon” subspecies, 2018

It was a joy to spend time watching the day-to-day activity of our local birds and be present in nature.