Backyard Treasures

Backyard Treasures

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Willow Flycatcher

Willow Flycatcher Sitting in a Tree, 2026

It started off like any other morning: stumbled out of bed, brushed my teeth while half awake, and let the shower water attempt to shake off the sleep. I slowly worked through my morning routine, not wanting to face another day of the lingering summer heat. I smelled the coffee aroma spreading throughout the house, which meant that my husband was already up. I joined him in the kitchen to get breakfast ready when he told me, “There’s some interesting activity this morning.”

I thought he was referring to our ant bait experiment. Recently, tiny little ants have invaded the house, intent on finding any microscopic dead bugs on which to feast. After failed attempts at blocking their entrances (of which it seemed like there was an endless number), my husband took command of trying different homemade baits and has been monitoring the successes and failures throughout the week.

He did not have a report of ants but of birds. He said he saw two empids in the backyard. That’s code for two unidentified flycatchers. Suddenly I was wide awake and ran to the window just in time to catch sight of one of them. Instinct took over, and I raced around the house looking for my camera and phone, threw on my sandals and quietly sneaked out the side entrance so as not to scare it.

There it was, perched in the trees. The lack of a prominent eyering immediately gave me a rush – this was likely a Willow Flycatcher in our humble little backyard!

The flycatcher was very cooperative as I took a number of photos. Totally captivated by the moment, I neglected to notice that my legs were starting to itch, and I was suddenly aware of all the mosquitoes surrounding me. No wonder the flycatchers were hanging out here! I had to rush back in and change into clothing that offered more coverage. I did end up with some bites, but it was a small price to pay for feeding the flycatchers.

I eventually spotted the two flycatchers that my husband saw. They did not take well to each other’s presence and there was frequent chasing, making it hard to get an ID on the second one. My husband thought it was the more common Western Flycatcher based on his earlier observation, but he wasn’t sure. I felt the pressure to get a picture just in case it was a rarity.

The minutes ticked by and we could not get a photo of the second flycatcher. They both eventually flew away and my heart sank knowing that it was time to call it and get ready for work.

Throughout the morning, I peeked out the window during stretch breaks hoping the second flycatcher would reappear. It did once, but was scared off by nearby gardeners with loud gas blowers. After that, the Willow Flycatcher continued to pop by, which was delightful to be sure, but there’s always that lingering, crushing feeling of the one that got away without a proper ID. Both flycatchers were gone by noon when the heat became unbearable and neither reappeared in the backyard.

When I take a step back and think about the morning, it was very special. The yard was providing two flycatchers with fuel for their migration journey, and in return the flycatchers gave us a special show. I have found it very difficult to get a decent Willow Flycatcher picture, and now I landed one with a great pose that will remind me of this fun morning.

I hope they both find their way safely to their wintering grounds.

Glittery Night

Glittery Night

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During the summer, it’s much too hot out to go outside. I try to sneak in a walk around the neighborhood park first thing in the morning before the sun starts to bake the shadeless stroll. Then I close up the curtains and block out the outdoors while carefully managing the AC. Once night falls, I’ll take a final walk after 10 p.m. and reluctantly switch out my tank top and shorts for better clothing coverage against the night bugs that tickle across my skin looking for a spot to chomp.

The nighttime usually brings a gentle calm, but it also heightens my senses in order to navigate the dark. I often hear the high-pitched squeaks of the bats flapping overhead well before I see them. A Northern Mockingbird may gently sing a quick tune while tucked away in its hidden roost. But the part I love the most is keeping my eyes and ears out for Barn Owls.

I’ve always thought it odd that Barn Owls would hunt around my neighborhood, and yet I’ve encountered them on many occasions well past sunset. Typically I hear a single raspy screech that is diagnostic of the species. I frequently whip out my phone in hopes of recording a follow-up call, but I’m usually unsuccessful. Many nights I never hear it vocalize but instead catch a glimpse of the ghostly creature gracefully, and ever so silently, flying over the rooftops. The pure lack of sound is what makes these owls such a great hunter, pouncing on their prey before it ever knows what hit them. To catch sight of the gentle flight is awe-inspiring and is juxtaposed against its blood-stopping call.

On one particular night, I had a new experience to add to the list. While walking with my husband, our flashlights caught the reflection of dozens of golden objects that landed in the grass next to a basketball court. My silly mind immediately jumped to the idea that we were witnessing fireflies out here in the California Central Valley (spoiler alert: we don’t get fireflies!). Once my excitement settled down, I realized it was gold party confetti littering the grass. My jolt of adrenaline quickly faded into frustration. Birds frequently forage that area and the foil confetti would likely scare them away. Who knows if a recently fledged bird or other park animal would naively mistake it for food. I resolved to pick up the garbage when I could.

The following day, armed with a small bag and a glove, I picked up the trash and foil pieces around the area. Neighbors saw me and gave me smiles or offers to help. I hoped that this would inspire folks to keep the park clean for the sake of the non-people inhabitants of the area.

Had I not been on my night walk and taking in my surroundings, I might not have noticed the trash that blended in so well in the grass but brightly showed itself against the flashlight. It’s just one more reason why the night walks support my bird adventures.

California Scrub-Jays

California Scrub-Jays

Total Species Recorded: 116

My Big Recording Year has slowed down quite a bit, which is to be expected. The birds are mostly quiet with the exception of the unpaired Northern Mockingbirds that continue to sing all day desperately begging for a mate. The days are also growing hotter, and all creatures, including myself, are seeking refuge in cooler spaces. The birds’ priorities have shifted in favor of staying quiet and focusing on finishing breeding activities that require stealth.

Ever since the mercury reached 90+ degrees, I have stayed indoors and closed the blinds to keep the heat out as much as possible, leaving me oblivious to the surrounding bird activity. One morning, we had a lovely cool Delta breeze sweeping through the Valley, and I opened up the windows to welcome the fresh air. As I soaked up the breeze at the window, I listened to the soundscape in my backyard. A young Anna’s Hummingbird practiced a scratchy song. Pigeons were cooing nearby. A distant Killdeer called its namesake.

As I was eating breakfast and taking in the sounds, a new call suddenly poked through the noise. I rushed to the backyard window just in time to see a California Scrub-Jay exit a small tree in a neighbor’s yard. I grabbed my binoculars, and I could just make a bundle of sticks buried in the tree. I watched for a few minutes and an adult jay hopped onto the fence, paused for a beat as it looked around for prying eyes, and entered the tree much to the delight of at least one hungry young bird.

I realized that I missed out on the nest building activity when I locked myself in from the elements. But now I have a nestling to observe for a little while and contribute to the California Bird Atlas project.

I decided to avoid recording the young begging calls because I would need to get too close for a decent recording and I don’t want to disturb the nest. For now, I am watching the feedings from behind a closed screen, leaving me concealed to the birds but able to easily observe the happenings.

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.

New and Improved Recordings

New and Improved Recordings

Six months into my Big Recording Year, I stand at 116 species recorded. I already met my goal of 100 species, but I am continuing my attempts to record species that have evaded me thus far. I’m also trying to get better recordings of some species that have already made the list.

That brings me to a lovely day that I spent at Tilden Regional Park in the East Bay. Nestled in the hills, our walk led us through Redwood Trees and bushes that were full of bird life – a stark contrast to the dwindling activity in the Central Valley. The park was filled with birds such as Wilson’s Warblers, Chestnut-backed Chickadees, and Dark-eyed Juncos.

At one point, a male Black-headed Grosbeak was perched high on a Eucalypsis Tree while singing. I had previously recorded this grosbeak species, but the bird was distant and was barely perceptible among all the other noises the microphone picked up. Today, the park was mostly quiet, and the windshield slipped over my phone largely reduced the wind noise. After a minute of recording, I saved a good take of its pik calls and a quick song that lasted a few seconds.

At the end of our walk, I heard a Swainson’s Thrush singing next to the path. It was so close, and yet I couldn’t locate it in the dense brush. Captivated by its hauntingly beautiful song, I held my breath and hit record. As the recording progressed, I realized that there was a second thrush on the other side of the path. The two thrushes were singing at the same time! There were moments where it sounded like one thrush would start a song and the other would finish it.

My first recording of this species was similar to the grosbeak in that it was far away and barely captured in the recording. But this thrush being so close was not only a boon to my recording goal, it was magical to experience. I could hear how its voice resonated, making it sound larger than life. I heard song elements that I was not accustomed to and was delighted to hear these variations up close. It was a moment that I will treasure as a part of this big year experience.

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.

Killdeer Nests

Killdeer Nests

Just after reaching my goal of recording 100 bird species in 2026, the birding activity started to wind down. I did add some additional species for a total of 116, but I haven’t recorded anything new in weeks. This is not surprising since the birds start to get a bit more quiet to focus on raising young this time of year.

I shifted my focus to the California Bird Atlas Project, looking for evidence of breeding activity in my area. I previously wrote about a Killdeer nest and the Killdeer’s attempts to attack my feet while walking by. I didn’t think this was a great strategy – had it been quiet I probably would not have noticed it! A few days later after publishing that blog post, I found that the nest was empty. The eggs may have hatched or perhaps there was a predation event. Either way, I dutifully marked it down as a Used Nest in my eBird observations for the project.

Some days later, I stumbled upon another Killdeer nest located at the other side of the park. Similar to before, the Killdeer alerted me to its location when I stopped too close while looking at another bird. I now had a second nest to observe for the California Bird Atlas Project!

In the days and weeks that followed, I checked on the status of the nest by observing from afar so as not to upset the Killdeer. The Killdeer was exceptionally camouflaged and it perfectly blended into the surrounding dirt.

On one occasion, park visitors parked near the nest and were loitering on the sidewalk. I used this opportunity to walk closer to the nest and found the Killdeer hovering over its eggs – egg status confirmed! The Killdeer smartly remained quiet and the park goers did not seem to disturb it too much.

Killdeer eggs can take several weeks of incubation before hatching, so at around the 3-week mark, I made sure to go back and see how things were progressing. The Killdeer was gone, so I walked around the nest area for evidence of what happened. Two tiny eggshell fragments were found nearby, and a single egg was still in the nest. This egg was likely non-viable which is why it didn’t hatch. It is likely that the remaining eggs hatched and a new generation of Killdeer were introduced to this neighborhood. I hope their adventures are safe!

Killdeer Nest and Non-Viable Egg

Killdeer Nest with a Single Non-Viable Egg, 2026

A Special Day

A Special Day

Killdeer Nest

Killdeer nest of four eggs from 2025

At the start of this year, a new birding project was launched for California: the first statewide bird breeding atlas bird effort. Participants can join the project and submit lists through eBird, with a focus on observing breeding activity.

With the breeding season kicking into gear in the Central Valley, I decided to join the project and pay particular attention to a local community park area where I had observed a Killdeer nest last year.

Shifting my focus to breeding activity opened my eyes to a whole world of bird behavior I had not previously noticed. I watched a bright red male House Finch feed his mate in a courtship ritual that strongly resembled a youngster being fed by a parent. Mockingbirds carved out their territory by singing at the same general location for days on end. Various species, from starlings to goldfinches, collected material for nests and flew out of sight to build a temporary home.

And of course I monitored the Killdeer for evidence of nesting. I didn’t have to try very hard – the Killdeer led me straight to the nest!

I was walking down a sidewalk completely oblivious to a well-camouflaged Killdeer that was sitting crouched in the dirt at the edge of the paved path. When I paused nearby to look at another bird, the Killdeer misinterpreted my intentions and charged at me. There was no “broken wing display” as is their usual defense. Instead, it ran at me while screaming an ear-piercing call, stopping within a couple inches of my shoe. Had I not been careful, I could have easily stepped on it! But because it had left its nest, I was able to observe three eggs.

During my walk on the next day, the Killdeer was foraging nearby, allowing me to see that it now had four eggs (I walked by quickly, never pausing, so as not to accidentally distress it again).

Such a lovely experience to report for the bird breeding project! But the excitement wasn’t over for the morning.

Near the Killdeer nest, a Horned Lark popped onto the wire fence, perched within a couple yards of me. Undeterred by my presence, it sang its heart out in a twinkling melody. I quickly pulled my phone, launched Merlin, and hit record, holding my breath and trying to quietly angle the phone to minimize the wind. I had the biggest smile on my face as I realized that this joyful song would be my 100th recorded species for 2026, reaching my Big Year Recording goal!

In a true Big Year fashion, I intend to continue my recording challenge to see how many species I can end the year with. But for now, I am reveling in the joy of having completed my goal of recording 100 species in a calendar year, with many months ahead of me to truly enjoy additional experiences.

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.

SoCal Recording

SoCal Recording

Total Species Recorded: 97

I recently spent a long weekend in Southern California to visit family and share the joys of birding together. The spring weather was perfect and the birds were active, giving us a memorable trip.

Our first stop was at Irvine Regional Park. This is a familiar stomping ground for me, as I’ve visited the park my entire life. As a kid, I loved imitating the calls of the peacocks, picking around the rocks in the riverbed, and looking around for the mysterious mountain lions that frustratingly never seemed to appear. As an adult, my focus shifted to the amazing bird diversity that the park has to offer. In the short distance that we walked that morning, the trees were teeming with bird activity. My mom excitedly spotted a strongly-spectacled Cassin’s Vireo skulking in the trees, and my husband picked out Lazuli Buntings that popped with a vibrant blue. Warblers were abundant, chipping and singing away the morning.

We were alerted to a Cactus Wren in a nearby cactus patch, and I beelined straight for the spot. I knew that the spring is a time for singing, and I was hopeful that the Cactus Wren would serenade us so that I could capture a recording for my Big Recording Year. One of my rules for this project is to not use playback, meaning I don’t play a recording on my phone to draw the bird out. So we waited by the cactus patch, hoping that he would pop out on his own accord. Minutes were going by, and we were worried that we weren’t at the right spot, but our patience paid off when a single Cactus Wren hopped on a dead shrub and chattered its heart out. I did not plan on recording a Cactus Wren this year, so this was an unexpected treat!

On the second day of our trip, I was introduced to a park that I had not previously visited. Upon stepping out of the car, there were so many Allen’s Hummingbirds that it was hard to accurately count their numbers. I knew this would be the perfect stop for recording the hummingbirds, as they were vocalizing non-stop. The only trouble was that there was a roofing project nearby that drowned out the birds. So we walked around a bit waiting for the construction noise to dissipate. When it did finally quiet down enough to attempt a recording, the Allen’s also went quiet. Every time I lifted up my microphone to capture a call, all I recorded was either dead silence or my sister barely able to contain her laughter at my luck. I never managed a recording of an Allen’s Hummingbird during the whole trip.

Stinging from the lost opportunity of recording the Allen’s, we went to a nearby park to see what we might get. I was fascinated with the Double-crested Cormorants nesting in the trees. Seeing these large, aquatic creatures awkwardly balancing on tree limbs was a sight to behold. But what really got me excited was when one made a low grumbling belching noise. I had never heard a cormorant vocalize before! I managed to get my microphone out and hit the record button just in time to capture a few more grunts before they went quiet. That sure made up for missing an Allen’s recording!

On the third day, we went to Huntington Central Park, which is a well-known birding hotspot in the area. It was a gorgeous day with many brightly-colored species popping out. In one particular spot, Hooded Orioles, Vermilion Flycatchers, Western Tanagers, Black-headed Grosbeaks, Lazuli Buntings, and several types of warblers and finches were drinking and taking a bath in the water. We stood transfixed by the activity, not moving from this one spot for quite some time. It was amazing to see so many species come together in one small spot of the park.

Our last stop of the trip was scheduled for the evening – a final visit to Irvine Regional Park. Evenings offer a different type of birding experience, as the birds rush to get in one last meal for the day and fly to their roosting spots. It was Sunday and the park was busy with human activities, but we went to the furthest parking lot in an attempt to minimize the noise. We walked down a path that leads to the riverbed, and waited for the sun to go down. As the sky gradually darkened, our target species began to appear seemingly out of nowhere. We counted no less than eight Lesser Nighthawks that sliced through the air, flying like large, confused bats. I had my microphone at the ready and did get a distant recording of their low staccato calls, but I largely enjoyed the moment as they swirled all around us. Eventually the bats joined the insect feast, adding to the mystique and excitement.

After three great birding days in SoCal, I added 15 more species towards my goal of recording 100 species in 2026. I’ve nearly reached my target!

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.

Recording Crows

Recording Crows

Total Species Recorded: 78

March was a slow month for my Big Recording Year Challenge since I had already recorded the winter birds that were the easiest to capture, as well as many year-round residents. What has baffled me, however, are some birds that I thought would be much easier to record but have escaped my list thus far.

Take for example the American Crow. I thought that would be an easy pick-up, but it eluded me for months. Crows aren’t abundant where I live, but I figured that I would eventually hear this species at a park. Yet I mostly heard ravens rather than crows. On the occasion that a crow would emerge onto the soundscape, it was always too brief of a call and I wasn’t able to hit “record” in time.

In recent weeks, I noticed a single crow hanging out in my neighborhood and was actually quite vocal. But for days, I still couldn’t catch a recording. The crow would usually stop calling once I set up my phone, even when I was a fair distance away and likely not spooking it. It taunted me with each bird walk around my neighborhood. I gave up and figured I would just wait for my next trip to SoCal or the East Bay where they are abundant.

One morning, I had the windows opened for some fresh air. I love mindlessly listening to the birds in the backyard as I work around the house. Eventually, one call in particular caught my attention. I dropped whatever it was I was doing, grabbed my microphone, and started to set up Merlin and eBird on my phone as I bolted to the backyard door. I never saw the crow because it was on a roof hidden by a tree,, but it continually called caw caw caw. I held my breath as I recorded it, hoping that the ambient noise wouldn’t infiltrate the recording too much. Using a microphone helped to focus the sound on the crow, and I finally managed to record my “easy” bird nemesis.

Now that I have finally nabbed a crow recording, I’ll move on to the next “easy” bird to target: a Mallard!

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.

March Recap

March Recap

Total Species Recorded: 67

As March comes to a close, I find myself thinking about how my Big Recording Year has evolved. The initial adrenaline rush of recording a dozen or so new species each week has settled into a steady, but much slower pace. While I recorded some fascinating birds in March, such as the Bonaparte’s Gulls and Lawrence’s Goldfinches, I mainly recorded the birds we see year round.

With the recordings slowing down (for now), I shifted my focus to a new activity: submitting eBird lists to the California Bird Atlas. This is an ambitious five-year project to document bird breeding activity in California to support conservation efforts and expand our knowledge of our breeding birds.

I have to admit that diving into this project has been intimidating. The breeding codes feel daunting, and the birding involves a different focus that requires you to carefully observe bird behavior. I watched a webinar recording that helped me get over my nerves, and spent time reviewing the breeding codes to ensure I understand them.

It turns out that the atlas project supports my recording goals since one of the breeding codes is for a singing bird. You can also add a code if a bird has been singing in the same location for a week or more. Because of that, I’m attempting to take careful notes of the singing birds and their locations to track their territories.

There is a particular mockingbird that has caught my attention recently. I’ve been drawn to its complex song of mimicries, often lasting more than 2 minutes. I enjoy the challenge of identifying the mimics, which includes Mallards, American Crows, and fire alarms. Even though I’ve already recorded this species for the year, I’m submitting additional recordings because it’s helping me to tune in to the song and perhaps it will support the atlas project.

April is just around the corner, and with it will come a fresh new wave of birds to record for my Big Year, and observe for the breeding project. In the meantime, I hope to continue to monitor the mockingbird as long as it continues to sing for a mate.

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.

Suet Feeder Activity

Suet Feeder Activity

Our little community park occasionally attracts a Nuttall’s Woodpecker, offering a fun bird visitor to observe. Watching this woodpecker, with its black and white striped back, climb the trunk of a tree is delightful. In late 2024, a Nuttall’s briefly visited my backyard, exploring the spindly plum tree. Inspired by the visit, I bought a shepherd’s hook and a basic suet feeder hoping that it might attract a woodpecker to our backyard again.

It didn’t take long for the first bird to find this new food source. Within a day, a Yellow-rumped Warbler expertly clung to the cage, picking off morsels that it ate on site. Little bits of suet would fall to the ground, attracting the White-crowned Sparrows as the clean-up crew. The sparrows quickly learned that when the Yellow-rumped Warblers would feed, it meant an opportunity to take advantage of dropped suet bits. So the sparrows always appeared underneath the feeder when the warblers showed up.

Perhaps enticed by the suet, one White-crowned Sparrow decided to try to eat directly from the feeder rather than wait for scraps. The sparrow was not designed like warblers and it clung awkwardly to the sides, flapping its wings to keep its balance, while barely managing to nab some larger pieces. The other sparrows were content to remain on the ground.

By the end of the winter season, an Orange-crowned Warbler visited the feeder, exchanging places with the Yellow-rumped Warbler as they battled over feeder rights. But the surprising behavior came from the California Scrub-Jays. This new object piqued their curiosity. The jays spent significant time trying to figure out how to get some of the suet. They must have realized that they were simply too large to cling to the tiny feeder cage. They eventually figured out that they could hover below the feeder, craning their necks to grab the suet from the bottom. They frequently nabbed two beakfuls in one flight attempt, and would either eat it right away or fly off with the grub. I suspect that they might be caching the food for later.

The shepherd’s hook offered its own usefulness to the birds. It’s often used as a perch by the jays, mockingbirds, finches, and sparrows. Perhaps it gives them a good view of the backyard as they plan their next move.

Fast forward to this past winter: the California Scrub-Jays, Orange-crowned Warblers, and Yellow-rumped Warblers have continued their same eating patterns, but this time all the White-crowned Sparrows were hopping on the feeder rather than the single, brave bird from before. Sometimes there would be up to three sparrows clinging at once, fighting over the limited space. They still fed on the ground below the feeder, but getting at the suet directly seemed to be more popular this year.

A new bird also joined the crew – the Ruby-crowned Kinglets popped onto the feeder for a quick bite, navigating it just as expertly as the warblers. A few times, an Anna’s Hummingbird hovered by the feeder, leading me to wonder if it was looking for bugs attracted by the suet.

While this hasn’t attracted any woodpeckers yet, I’m delighted with the active winter scene this encourages!