Suet Feeder Activity

Suet Feeder Activity

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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!

A Day with the Bonaparte’s

A Day with the Bonaparte’s

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Bonaparte's Gulls

Bonaparte’s Gull flock flying in front of playground equipment, 2026

Total Species Recorded: 57

“It’s always a good day when you see a Bonaparte’s Gull.”

This is what I tell my husband every time I see Bonaparte’s Gulls. I find these delicate birds absolutely adorable in their winter plumage. They are tiny white gulls, smaller than the local California Gulls, that expertly zip around the airspace above the waters with mesmerizing acrobatics. The simplicity of their winter plumage with petite black bills, dark eyes, and black ear spot on a perfectly rounded head is a relief from studying other gulls with their endlessly variable appearances.

My neighborhood park filled up with water with the recent rains, and it attracted the expected water-loving birds, such as Greater Yellowlegs, Black-necked Stilts, California Gulls, and even some egrets. But what delighted me the most were the Bonaparte’s. As each day passed, their numbers grew until I counted at least 200 visiting at once!

One cloudy afternoon, I spent some time watching them from the edge of the park. They were picking off worms while swimming around the waters. Their preferred method of foraging seemed to involve swimming in the shallow lake until something caught their attention, causing them to pop straight up into the air and then dive head first into the water. They would emerge with a squirmy worm in their bills.

Bonaparte's Gulls

Bonaparte’s Gull flock foraging for worms in a shallow park pond, 2026

I took note of their plumage differences. While not as complex as other gulls, there was some variability depending on the age. The younger Bonaparte’s Gulls had pale legs, brown in their outer flight feathers, brown along the edges of their wings, and a brown line across the wings that forms a faint “M” in flight. Their tails are also dark along the end. The adults, on the other hand, have deep reddish-orange legs, gray wings, and black across the primary tips – a much cleaner look than their younger counterparts.

What struck me as unique about this experience was their calls. I had never heard them vocalize before, and here they were by the hundreds giving me ample opportunity to observe! Some of their calls sounded to me like a cross between a Mallard and a Gadwall. When later I researched their calls on All About Birds, it was described as “tern-like,” which made more sense.

Of course, this is a Big Recording Year and I knew I had to grab a recording. This proved to be difficult to achieve. Neighborhood noise from cars and lawn care were endlessly present. The wind was also a major factor, making it nearly impossible to hear the gulls in the background. I had to settle for a one-star recording. It was a good thing that I captured any recording at all, for the water would recede in the coming days and my daily visits with the dainty gulls would soon come to an end. But for now, I was happy to call it a good day having spent quality time with the Bonaparte’s Gulls.

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.

February Recap

February Recap

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Total Species Recorded: 52

February has come to an end, and I am halfway through my goal of recording 100 bird species. It may seem like I will reach that target number before summer begins, but it is already getting more difficult to add new species to my list. In fact, I have submitted recordings of several species only to later realize that I had already checked them off my list for the year.

Yet spring is just around the corner, which means that we will soon see a new batch of species infiltrate the region for breeding. Already the local breeding populations are loudly proclaiming their territories, such as the House Finches in my backyard that will sing nonstop, bringing me joy whenever I open up the windows.

In the coming weeks and months, new hummingbirds will fly through, flycatchers will pop in, and orioles will dazzle us with their brilliant colors. The switch from winter to spring will invite a whole new set of species to target for recording. But I’ll have to work fast because once paired up and nesting, the adult birds will largely go quiet as they care for their young in secret!

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.

Brief Spring Days

Brief Spring Days

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Total Species Recorded: 45

Spring has gently appeared for a few sunny days in February. It’s been a welcomed change after weeks of heavy fog and chilly weather that dampened spirits. Even the birds have seemed melancholy in this heavy weather. In past years, some birds would start singing as early as January. Aside from the backyard White-crowned Sparrows singing a quick tune first thing in the morning, it’s been oddly quiet, adding to the solemn atmosphere.

Now that the sun has been poking out, suddenly the musical landscape has cheered up and the air is filled with song. House Finches and Lesser Goldfinches have been singing over each other in the same trees. Eurasian Collared-Doves are suddenly present, both cooing to potential mates and attacking competitors that dared to stray into their invisible territory. It’s been such a gloomy winter that even the starlings’ songs have been a welcomed change from the silent, gray cold days.

I have been waiting for the right moment to capture a recording of singing finches to add to my Big Recording Year list. As soon as the sun arrived, our backyard was suddenly filled with House Finches and Lesser Goldfinches, all sharing a tree for preening and the bird bath for drinking. Since House Finches are so common, I don’t always pay attention to them, but the recording project is reintroducing me to the complexity of their songs, making me appreciate them all the more. I’m happy that they are choosing to sing in my backyard giving me great opportunities to listen and observe.

This temporary spring won’t last long as a chilly rain is forecast to arrive soon. But for now, the birds are itching to get a mate and in spite of the expected return of cloudy weather, the birds are singing away!

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.

January Recap

January Recap

Total Species Recorded: 36

I am one month into my Big Recording Year, and it has certainly been a learning experience.

I do a lot of birding by ear, which means that I identify birds based on their calls or songs. When I set out on this goal to record 100 bird species, I thought it would be a relatively simple pursuit because of the frequency in which I identify birds by ear. The reality is turning out to be quite different.

Oftentimes I will hear a bird call just once, and that’s enough to identify it. To record it, however, I need the bird to continue to vocalize, as there’s the time needed to open up the Merlin app and get my microphone ready. Very often I’m left with an empty recording because the bird only sounded off once before going quiet or flying away. That has made recording tricky.

In spite of this, I’ve submitted recordings for 36 bird species in January. My absolute favorite experience so far was spending time with a small group of short eared owls. To hear their barks and screeches while they interacted with each other was magical.

January has been otherwise filled with seets, chips, and chups with a general lack of singing. I expect that to change soon as spring migration and the breeding season gets underway.

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.

January Big Day

January Big Day

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

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

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

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.