January Big Day

January Big Day

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Total Species Recorded: 24

It was a perfect day for birding. The air was cool, the sky was a brilliant blue, and the sun offered some gentle warmth against the chill. The wind was finally calm after days of high gusts. I was excited to have some good weather because we were competing with my sister and her husband to see who could spot the most number of bird species in a single day, commonly known as a “Big Day” event. Although the day would be focused on spotting the highest number of birds, I hoped to sneak in some opportunities to record birds for my Big Recording Year challenge.

We had an active day planned that would take us to various edges of San Joaquin County. We would start birding in South County, meander to the north, and then drive to the east to wrap up the day. Much of the time would be spent driving, but there was always the possibility of picking up incidentals along the way.

The first stop involved our neighborhood where I could be sure to pick up Lincoln’s Sparrows, Yellow-billed Magpies, and Rock Pigeons. After a rushed walk, we took off to Oak Grove in Ripon where we focused on the water treatment plant. We were able to add unique species to our Big Day list, including Bonaparte’s Gulls and Black-bellied Plovers. Our trip to Ripon added a lot of time, but I knew it was going to be a tight competition for the highest numbers.

These first stops were far too noisy for a good sound recording, so I didn’t bother trying. But our next stop at the Cosumnes River Preserve in Sacramento offered a great opportunity to record geese. Our timing was perfect – a large group of loud Greater White-Fronted Geese were foraging in the water close to the pedestrian walkway. I had to wait a moment to allow other nature lovers to walk away so that their conversations wouldn’t be added to my recording, but otherwise the geese were cooperative.

A quick check-in with my sister made me a bit nervous – we were falling way behind their numbers. They were birding in San Diego and had planned their day more carefully. It was time for us to step it up.

Our next stop was at Staten Island (not to be confused with the New York location), which I knew would be filled with water-loving birds and waders. Indeed, we saw thousands of various geese, and dozens of Sandhill Cranes and Tundra Swans. We also picked up a few birds that we weren’t expecting, such as the Brown-headed Cowbird. I managed a recording of Cackling Geese that were foraging on a dry field, although a nearby dog decided that was the perfect time to unleash a barking fit. It’s not always easy to record Cackling Geese, so I shrugged off the barking and accepted the recording as is.

After a quick lunch sitting in the car while counting the geese at Staten Island, we drove across the county to the east side. Although we didn’t pick up any birds along the way, it was a pleasant drive through the fields and vineyards. Our last hope for picking up more birds was Mokelumne River Day Use/Fish Hatchery. Here I expected to get mergansers, wrens, and sparrows along with the possibility of eagles.

The park was surprisingly not crowded with people despite it being a beautiful weekend day. It was also mysteriously low on birds. I was able to opportunistically capture recordings of Bushtits, Dark-eyed Juncos, and a Song Sparrow. But the point of the day was to see as many birds as possible. I soon realized that we were hopelessly losing the competition. But I had one consolidation prize that I was anticipating all day, and I had to time it just right.

We left Mokelumne at 3:00 p.m., exactly when I wanted to, and we headed north to Amador County to a worn-down road off the beaten path. We arrived about a half hour later and I popped out of the car with the microphone in hand. After a few minutes of scanning, we saw them: Short-eared Owls were sitting on the ground. We counted four simultaneously, although there were possibly one or two more. They delicately flew over the herd of cows, interacted with each other with aerial acrobatics, and swooped down to pounce on prey. The most incredible part of the experience was hearing them vocalize. Their calls ranged from screeching, not unlike a Barn Owl, and a quick succession of barks. I had only seen a Short-eared Owl once before and it did not vocalize, but this small group was very chatty, giving me a perfect opportunity to capture the audio experience. We stayed in the area watching them for an hour before we decided to call it a day.

Although we majorly lost the Big Day competition with my sister and her husband, I was happy for a perfect owl ending to a fun day.

To read more posts about this challenge, see the dedicated Bird Recording Challenge 2026 web page or click on “Bird Recording Challenge 2026” under “Tags” at the bottom of this post.

Winter Recordings

Winter Recordings

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Hermit Thrush

Hermit Thrush Perched on Wire, 2018

Total Species Recorded: 21

My Big Recording Year is off to a good start! So far I have recorded 21 species towards my goal of 100. While that may seem like I’m on pace to reach 100 within weeks, it will steadily get more difficult to add to the list.

One thing I’m finding challenging is getting the birds to cooperate. In the winter, birds can be fairly quiet, and the ones who are vocalizing frequently startle into silence upon my presence. I joke that the birds have recording anxiety, for as soon as I hold up my microphone, the bird will suddenly go quiet. Perhaps it’s because I have suddenly stopped walking and pointed an object at them, prompting the bird to be more wary of my presence.

One of my favorite stories from this past week was my time spent in Oak Grove Park in Ripon. While it was a delightful walk amongst the grove of Oak Trees, I was collecting a growing list of failed recordings, mainly due to the target bird going quiet. The starlings were also singing in full force, drowning out everything I tried to capture. I want to record a starling in my neighborhood because their specific mimicry is interesting, so I did not want to expend energy on them this trip. I ended up deleting many of these recording attempts.

After an hour of walking, we stopped in an area filled with bushes. After adjusting to our presence, the bird chatter filled the air. Townsend’s, Orange-crowned, and Yellow-rumped Warblers were chipping in the trees, a Northern House Wren scolded an encroaching wren, and Oak Titmouse were calling to each other while foraging.

One fun lesson was hearing the subtle but distinct differences between a Fox Sparrow and Hermit Thrush call. The Fox Sparrow has a smacky quality to it, like having peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth while trying to say “tsk.” The similar-sounding Hermit Thrush instead gives a “Chup” call that has a cleaner tone. It’s not often that I hear a Fox Sparrow, let alone a Fox Sparrow and a Hermit Thrush at the same time, so it was a treat to study their differences in the field.

To read more posts about this challenge, see the dedicated Bird Recording Challenge 2026 web page or click on “Bird Recording Challenge 2026” under “Tags” at the bottom of this post.

Bird Recording Challenge 2026: Day 1

Bird Recording Challenge 2026: Day 1

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Day 1: January 1, 2026
Total Species Recorded: 7

After months of anticipation, 2026 is finally here! I decided to pursue a personal Big Recording Year in 2026 with a goal of recording 100 species. The recordings will only count if I upload them to eBird, and the files will be added to a growing database of sound media used for research. Not only am I giving myself a fun challenge for the year, I’m also contributing data that benefits birds.

Typically on New Year’s Day, I participate in a friendly competition with family to see who can spot the most number of birds in a single day. Those plans were dashed by unfavorable weather this year, so I focused on recordings rather than running around looking for as many birds as possible. It resulted in a calmer, more introspective day, replacing the adrenaline rush that comes with scurrying all over to get a glimpse of all the birds.

I anticipated rain today, but instead we got wind. I’m using a small microphone with a windshield to help block some of the wind sound, but it was no match for the wind that whipped through the fields today. While it would be nice to produce the “perfect” recording, I find it more important to capture an accurate call or song no matter the conditions, better reflecting the true situation.

I was more aware of various unnatural noises that may impact the recordings, such as jackets rustling, distant traffic on the freeway, or the idling car when recording during a driving-based list. These are all things that we might naturally tune out while birding, but are readily picked up by the microphone. It seems like it will be nearly impossible to find conditions where there isn’t wind or other unwanted noises, but that’s also the nature of the type of birding many of us experience and, it is worth capturing.

My favorite recording of the day was a Wood Duck call. I’m familiar with their Ooo-Wee! Ooo-Wee! call that I associate with the ducks taking flight, but the vocalization I captured this time sounded like a soft, buzzy zipper, and I almost mistook it for a Pine Siskin. Later that morning, another similarly high-pitched and whiny call made me think I was hearing an odd chicken sound, but it was a different Wood Duck! These are the learning moments I’m looking forward to with this challenge and hope that I’ll gain a more intimate understanding of various bird vocalizations.

At the end of Day 1 of this challenge, I uploaded seven recordings to two eBird lists. I have 364 days to capture 93 more recordings!

To read more posts about this challenge, see the dedicated Bird Recording Challenge 2026 web page or click on “Bird Recording Challenge 2026” under “Tags” at the bottom of this post.

Flood Zone Birding

Flood Zone Birding

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The California Central Valley is situated in a flood zone. The last major flood was in 1862, causing loss of life and extensive damage in the area and beyond. Modern infrastructure, such as Yolo bypass, attempts to account for future major flood events.

Near my home, there is a small community park. This is my birding patch – an area you frequently bird, allowing you to intimately know its natural rhythms. I’ve always thought it odd that this park was sunken down in the middle, shaped like an enormous bowl. My first winter here quickly showed me the park’s dual purpose: it is a part of a flood control system. A particularly rainy season turned the park into a lake, drawing waterfowl and kayaks alike. I was delighted by all the birds swimming in the lake: Mallards, Cinnamon Teals, Buffleheads, even Common Mergansers! But soon the water receded and the park did not reach that high level of water in the following drought-ridden years.

It’s been another dry December with no recent rains except a splendid couple of days in November when a good dousing cleaned the air and sidewalks. Imagine my surprise when I saw large puddles forming in the park – where is this coming from? I saw construction workers observing the park as the water continued to slowly seep in. I’m guessing that they were testing out the flood management system.

Each morning I eagerly put on my binoculars and walked my usual loops around the park, not knowing how long the water would remain. Although a far cry from the previous lake levels, there was just enough water to encourage a flurry of activity.

Greater Yellowlegs seemed to be the first to find this temporary feeding ground. I counted dozens poking around at once. Joining them were a handful of Long-billed Dowitchers, usually grouped together at the water’s edge. Three Wilson Snipes delighted me. Despite their bold brown colors against green grass, it was remarkably difficult to find the snipes when they scrunched down to the ground, so well camouflaged are their markings.

A Great Egret, Great Blue Heron, Black-necked Stilts, and over a hundred California Gulls joined the foraging flock. All the birds would take off when the resident Cooper’s Hawk would fly overhead, but just as quickly settle back into their feeding frenzy, likely pulling up worms or, for the larger birds, stabbing at the gophers.

Our neighborhood is home to a surprising number of cats, both feral and outdoor kitties. They like to sit in the park and stare down gopher holes, playing a real life version of Whack-a-Mole. Outdoor cats are not good for birds, and while I adore kitties and pet the friendly ones, I uselessly admonish them when they stalk birds.

With the park sporting new and interesting birds, the cats were sitting at the edge of the water, no doubt frustrated by this wet barrier between them and the hunt. However, one cat caught sight of an unsuspecting American Pipit that was foraging near the small lake. I saw the cat crouch into hunting mode, and, fearing the worst, I clapped my hands to distract the cat. I managed to scare the gulls, which took off into flight, but the cat was only momentarily distracted. So I stomped up to the cat, giving it firm words of shame, and finally the pipit flew away. I’ve never seen a cat give me such a dirty glare as this one. Sorry bud. As I tell the other cats, “no eating the birds!”

The water has been receding, so the bird activity will return to the usual neighborhood residents. I’m hoping we will get some good rain soon. We sure need it, and it gives a fun change of scenery in my daily walks.

Point Pinos Seawatch

Point Pinos Seawatch

One of my favorite birding events is the Point Pinos Seawatch, located in Monterey Bay. For the past ten years, dedicated biologists log in full days, rain or shine, of counting migrating sea birds to support conservation efforts. I enjoy spending a few hours with them, soaking up their deep knowledge of birds, and appreciating the opportunity to get a glimpse of pelagic birds from the comfort of land.

The last time we joined the seawatch, we were treated to Northern Fulmars that were flying strikingly close to the coast. Through the scope, I could see their facial features while they scavenged over the ocean in relaxed, long glides. Fulmars have become an image of calm for me whenever I am reminded of that peaceful day.

We have done our own seawatch at various points of the year – it is an eBird hotspot after all – and it’s always a joy to peer out into the ocean to see what might pop by. But joining the Monterey Audubon Society’s sponsored November seawatch is different. For one, you have experts available to find and ID the birds while giving you valuable tips. Having the opportunity of putting new knowledge into immediate practice is priceless. There’s also the festive atmosphere when a group of birders hang out together, sometimes chatting, other times focusing through their optics in a silent but shared space to enjoy the passion of birding. Inevitably curious passerbys ask what we are looking at, and while there is a volunteer to chat with them about the event, I will sometimes break out of my introverted shell and engage.

We missed the seawatch last year. Each weekend there was a time conflict or bad weather. Although storms have the high potential of bringing in rare pelagic species, I haven’t built up the bad-weather muscle to endure the cold, windy rain. By the time an open weekend with better weather popped up, the seawatch was over.

Hudsonian Whimbrels

Ten Hudsonian Whimbrels flying against a light blue sky

This year we finally made it out the weekend before Thanksgiving. On the first day, we arrived in the early afternoon. We received a briefing of the various landmarks to help with locating the fast flying birds, and then we joined the group scanning the ocean through our scope and binoculars. Within a few minutes, the expert excitedly called out two murrelets – one Ancient Murrelet and one Marbled Murrelet flying together. I managed to see the birds flying by, but they were so far out that I couldn’t make out any of their features other than looking like little black and white footballs with wings being launched over the waves. I hope to do a pelagic trip sometime where I can see the murrelets up close.

There were multiple Northern Fulmars all afternoon, all of which I was able to identify on my own. I was happy that I still retained the lessons learned years ago to ID them this year.

Several groups of Surf Scoters delighted me, and I scanned them carefully for field marks that would yield a White-winged Scoter or Black Scoter that have been seen over the past several weeks. None popped up during our two hours there. Maybe tomorrow.

The second day we spent the morning with another lovely group of birders. The deep blue ocean sprawled out in front of us with spectacular waves crashing against the large rocks is always a sight to behold. There were lots of Pacific Loons streaming by, giving the experts a challenge to accurately count them for the day’s migration numbers. The most exciting bird for me was a lifer Black-legged Kittiwake (a “lifer” is a bird species that you haven’t seen before). I got decent looks at the kittiwake and was able to compare it to the smaller Bonaparte’s Gull flying beside it. One of the field marks for this young bird was a black “M” across the wings and back, which confused me because I know that’s the Sabine’s Gull key markers. One of the volunteers was kind enough to review field marks with me as compared to a Sabine’s Gull in his field guide. I really enjoyed the lesson right after watching the kittiwake fly around.

Western Gull

Western Gull standing on the rocks after being released

One final note to this fun trip was the release of an adult Western Gull that was nursed back to health after being hit by a car in September. One of the experts was handed a big blue box, and she took it into the rocks for release. The gull flew out of its box enclosure, but instead of immediately flying off, it stood on a rock taking in its new, but likely familiar, surroundings. I wonder what the experience was like for the gull who was given a second chance at life. I imagined that it was confused, a mix of emotions from being in the care of humans to now being back in the wild. Would it miss the easy access to food while it healed, or was it excited to get its freedom back and join its kind? It’s a harsh environment out there, and I hope it makes it.

Fall Sierras Trip

Fall Sierras Trip

Wrights Lake

Wrights Lake meadow with fall colors

When people talk about visiting the Sierra Nevada Mountains, it usually conjures up images of camping in the summer or skiing in the winter. For me, the fall beckons. The temperatures are mild, some of the trees change color, and the crowds are minimal. My husband and I enjoy visiting Lake Tahoe in the early fall to pick up our remaining mountain birds for the year. This time, we did something a little different and traveled to Mono County on the east side of the Sierras.

To begin the trip, we planned to spend one night in Lake Tahoe. On the way to our destination, we did a quick detour to Wrights Lake near the Desolation Wilderness. At about 7,000 feet, we did a very light hike to avoid feeling sick from the altitude change, but our brief walk down the main trailhead was gorgeous. Signs of fall danced on the leaves turning red and yellow, and the air was crisp and cool. A small meadow near the lake offered a serene moment to take in the calm.

One of our target species for this spot was the American Goshawk. In a thrilling moment when we pulled up to pay the entrance fee, I heard an unfamiliar hawk call. I recorded it using the Merlin App, but it couldn’t identify the species. I was certain this was a goshawk – what else could it be since I knew the calls of all the other local hawks? A closer examination revealed that it was a Douglas Squirrel – a mammal that has a range of bird-like calls that is frustratingly confusing, although amusing. We never got our goshawk on the trip, so we will be back to visit the area again in the future.

After a night in Tahoe, we were off to the main part of the trip: birding in Mono County. The eastern side of the Sierras is disorienting to me. I’m accustomed to the mountains rising to the east, but riding along the highway with the towering mountains to the west made me feel like I was in another land. The drive along the mountainous highway was technically the high desert, offering different plant life to observe. We made a brief stop at a community park that had public restrooms and a gate that led to a gorgeous walk into the mountains. I was excited to hear a White-crowned Sparrow singing a slightly different tune than what I’m used to hearing.

Walker Community Park

Walker Community Park with high desert plant life

We made a few extra stops along Highway 395, but the birding activity was low, likely due to the high winds that built up as the afternoon settled in. Little did we know that the rest of our trip would bear out the same pattern – winds and minimal birds.

Our main birding stop for the day was at Mono Lake. While birding conditions were not ideal, the scenery was lovely. Lurking in the background were thunder clouds, and we spotted some lightning bolts in the distance. We kept our wits about, monitoring the clouds to ensure we wouldn’t get caught in a storm near a large body of water – not a good spot to be at with lightning!

Mono Lake

Mono Lake and distant tufas against a cloudy sky

The next day, weary from a bad night of sleep from a loud thunderstorm, we headed out to the Crowley Lake area. The first stop was a lek, which is where grouse will dance around to woo the females. The leks are active in the spring, but I was hopeful that some Great Sage-Grouse would still be hanging around.

Getting to the lek was confusing. This was definitely an area where local knowledge would have been handy. We drove our passenger car along unpaved roads, faithfully following Google Maps to the eBird hotspot coordinates. We stopped at an unlocked gate that prevented cars from going down the road, so we walked down a path until a snake rattled in alarm, which sent me scampering back to the car. The only birds we saw were meadowlarks and ravens for our effort. I need to research this place more and come back in the spring.

Mono County

Fields near the Grouse Lek and towering mountains against a brilliant blue sky

We visited a couple other birding hotspots that day. At Crowley Lake, we picked up a Sagebrush Sparrow, although we only heard its loud TINK note. It was otherwise content to stay hidden in the bushes. The lake offered a good pit stop and water fowl to pick through.

The other birding spot was at Convict Lake, one of the most scenic areas of the entire trip. Although not very birdy, and oddly crowded for a weekday, the lake nestled in the mountains was gorgeous.

Convict Lake

Convict Lake’s blue waters and majestic mountains

On our final day, we made one last push to find birds that are found at high elevations: Gray-crowned Rosy Finch and Black-backed Woodpeckers. The finches were recently seen at Inyo Craters, which is 9,000 feet above sea level. The elevation made us a little light-headed, so we lightly strolled around the parking lot looking for signs of bird life. We heard a few Mountain Chickadees, but it was otherwise quiet. We slowly drove back along the unpaved path, carefully driving along the edges of wide puddles that would have been easier to navigate in an SUV. One spot along the road was hopeful with lots of birds running around the low bushes. I had read that Gray-crowned Rosy Finches tend to forage on the ground, so we patiently picked through the sparrows that ran in and out of sight, darting around the bushes for food. A Clark’s Nutcracker landed nearby and gave its rattling call, providing me with a great recording to upload to my eBird list. There was lots of bird chatter, but nothing unfamiliar, and soon enough the flock of birds had moved on.

A final birding visit was at a recent burn area where a Black-backed Woodpecker was recently reported. It felt odd staring into a field of burned trees looking for a bird, but these woodpeckers are experts at finding grub that lives off the burned wood. But once again, the trip yielded no sightings of our target bird.

I realized that while fall is a beautiful and calm time of the year to travel in the Sierras, the birds are trying to be low-key as they settle into winter mode. Unlike the spring, birds are relatively quiet in the fall in order to conserve energy and focus on foraging for food without attracting predators.

In spite of this, we picked up eight more species for our 2025 bird list, including a Sagebrush Sparrow lifer – the first time we’ve ever observed this bird. Throughout our trip, we saw beautiful landscapes and witnessed the different personalities of the mountains. Some were bare and rocky, some sprouted dense trees, and others melted into the high desert ecosystem. We ended the trip with fond memories of a magical tour through part of the Sierras. I would like to do this trip again, perhaps in the spring once the snow has melted, to enjoy the breeding season and refreshed birding activity.

Big Recording Year in 2026

Big Recording Year in 2026

Time starts to fly this time of the year. Holidays come at us with blinding speed – when one ends, another is peering around the corner. Appointments, projects, and commitments get squeezed into the remaining months of the year. Before you know it, a new year is upon us, hopefully providing a much-needed reset from the flurry of activities.

For me, the new year brings new opportunities for birding. I like to set goals to drive new life into birding activities, and to hopefully learn a bit more along the way.

Some birders like to pursue a Big Year where they tally up as many bird species as possible during an entire year. I participated in a county Big Year competition in 2023 – a thrilling and exhausting experience that I will honestly be hesitant to repeat. This year, my goal is to do an individual Big Year by competing with myself, but the rules will be a bit different. I plan to do a Big Recording Year.

I’ve become more interested in recording bird vocalizations since lugging a heavy camera around for photography can be cumbersome. I have a lightweight microphone that plugs into my cellphone and is easy to deploy. It’s been particularly useful in areas where a visual on a bird is difficult and vocal IDs are the main focus, such as in the mountains with the birds hanging out at the tops of the towering trees.

Recording birds also doesn’t have the same popularity as photography, meaning that my recordings will be that valuable for research. Each recording attached to an eBird checklist will be automatically added to the Macaulay Library collection.

My goal is to record 100 bird species during 2026. I did a quick run through of the birds I’ve seen this year and estimated that 98 species could be reasonably recorded, although by no means a guarantee. So theoretically 100 should give me a gentle challenge.

Some advanced planning will help with tackling this goal. Identifying a list of target birds and when they are present in my home town will be a good first step. I’ll want to first tackle birds that are more difficult to get. For example I can record the California Scrub-Jays and Anna’s Hummingbirds in my backyard year-round on any given day, but the window to record a Bullock’s Oriole will be during spring migration and when it sings its heart out to attract a mate. The summer is usually quiet and too hot to go out birding, so I will need to account for that.

There’s a lot to do before the year comes to a close, but I’m looking forward to this year-long goal!

Neighborhood Treasures

Neighborhood Treasures

Lawrence's Goldfinches and Lesser Goldfinch

Two Lawrence’s Goldfinches and a Lesser Goldfinch eating among yellow and pink flowers

Sometimes birds pop up in spots where you least expect them. Where I live, the urban sprawl is viciously pushing the boundaries between development and fields. The rural landscape of active farmlands is being gobbled up by a dizzying number of houses and shopping centers. I’ve been mourning the clear reduction of Barn Swallows that previously nested in our neighborhood and the lack of Yellow-billed Magpies that we would see eating in the fields.

But there are signs of hope. New human-made ponds, likely intended for flood management, are popping up, attracting waterfowl and shorebirds. One such pond is in the middle of an enormous construction project next to a community park. Last winter, water filled this pond giving life to a marsh-like environment. White-crowned Sparrows, Lincoln Sparrows, Song Sparrows, and Savannah Sparrows could all be found running around the exposed dirt. Marsh Wrens sang their funky tune from the cattails. American Pipits walked with their long gait along the fence. But what really delighted me was the Virginia Rail and Soras that called this little oasis their home during the winter. One Sora would give its whinnying call and set off the other two or three at various locations, which then gave rise to the rail’s grunts. All this could be found tucked in this little spot in the middle of a housing development.

Fast forward to spring and this spot held another surprise. Wildflowers sprouted suddenly, transforming the bare metal fence into a painting exploding with little pink and yellow flowers. A large mixed flock of Lesser Goldfinches and American Goldfinches were devouring this food source, as if assuming the flowers would be gone soon (in fact, the flowers were mowed down not too long afterwards). A closer inspection of the flock revealed multiple Lawrence’s Goldfinches – a pure treat for this area! Their uniquely-marked faces and pale gray plumage made them stand out from the other goldies. They stuck around for nearly a week, despite their well-known propensity for wandering for food and not staying put.

Killdeer Nest

Killdeer nest with four eggs camouflaged on the ground

A final fun surprise was finding a Killdeer nest just outside of the safety of the fence. We nearly stepped on the four eggs – their camouflage was so well done, and then spotted the parent nearby nervously watching. I took a quick picture on my phone and left the nest immediately. I’m not sure about the nest’s fate as I didn’t find the time to check on it again, but I hope it survived the challenges of breeding in the middle of a big housing area, giving life to future generations of birds.

New Year in September

New Year in September

Leaves of Fall

Red Leaves of Fall

September has arrived, and while the summer heat is still hanging on, I always feel a shift that represents a new beginning. To me, fall brings the joy of a new year. We have three consecutive seasons of non-stop bird action: fall migration, winter birds, and then spring migration with all its colorful and musical glory. Summer ends all the fun, shooing us indoors to escape the blazing sun while the birds largely go quiet.

Now the days are starting to get a bit shorter, and the sun will soon be beaming at us from a different angle offering a touch of relief. Some birds will start to get restless and eventually fly away in search of better weather, and we start to see the arrival of our winter visitors. I look forward to hearing the songs of the small group of White-crown Sparrows that call our backyard home, and the daily visits from an Orange-crowned Warbler and Ruby-crowned Kinglet.

It’s only weeks away when the weather here should finally be conducive to venturing out for birding. Then we have plenty of months ahead of nonstop birding joy. It’s the beginning of a new year of fun!

August Migration

August Migration

Sanderling and Western Sandpipers

Sanderlings and Western Sandpipers, 2020

This article was originally published in the San Joaquin Audubon Society’s The Hoot Owl newsletter, August 1, 2025 edition.

We’re nearing the end of another sizzling summer in the Central Valley. Many of us have been dragging through the summer doldrums – a period of dampened bird activity – while daydreaming about the upcoming migration that promises to inject excitement back into our birding lives. Peak fall migration in the lower 48 states is generally September through October, but did you know that August is when shorebirds are on the move?

These next several weeks are the perfect time to be scanning water sources to welcome back familiar friends from their breeding adventures. Shorebird rarities or short-term visitors will be popping up throughout the county. Look out for phalaropes spinning around in dizzying circles as they swirl up their food in the resulting vortex. Grab your scope and scan the groups of peeps (small sandpipers) to see if a Baird’s or Semipalmated Sandpiper can be plucked out of a flock. Take an extra moment to review Spotted Sandpipers in case the similar Solitary Sandpiper is actually the one bobbing along the water’s edge looking for food.

A useful tool to help predict upcoming bird migrants is eBird’s bar chart feature. Available for hotspots, counties, and even your own personal location, bar charts collect eBird data and display bird frequencies for your selected location. Use this link for the San Joaquin County bar charts (keep in mind that rarities are captured in the bar charts and do not necessarily represent expected species for the area). You can also review a nocturnal migration dashboard on BirdCast, which provides live and historical data during the spring and fall migration periods. Check out these resources, brush up on your shorebird ID, and brave the last heat of the summer as the final migration of 2025 gets underway!