My Birding World – A Birding Blog by Elizabeth Olin

Fall Sierras Trip

November 24, 2025 Elizabeth Olin Comments 0 Comment

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 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 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.

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’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

November 10, 2025 Elizabeth Olin Comments 0 Comment

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

October 7, 2025 Elizabeth Olin

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 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

September 3, 2025 Elizabeth Olin

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 3, 2025 Elizabeth Olin

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!

Jay Observations

August 7, 2024 Elizabeth Olin

California Scrub-Jay sitting in tree branches

I’ve been writing in this blog since 2018. It has brought me so much joy to share my experiences. At times, I’ve written obsessively, posting multiple times a month. Other times, I’ve taken an extended break. Life requires that we have moments to pause, reflect, and rest our minds.

This year has been one of those times where a longer break was necessary. For the first part of the year, I was exhausted after a marathon race of participating in the Big Year competition. When I finally regained some energy around birding, then summer reared its ugly head and I had to switch gears to surviving the hottest summer I’ve ever experienced. Staying indoors to escape the heat caused my birding world to narrow dramatically to just my backyard. Even the birds found it too hot and largely stayed in the shade and out of sight.

Despite being house-bound to escape the heat, I did have an opportunity to make some interesting observations. Namely, the California Scrub-Jays have commanded my attention as of late. I never really paid attention to these local birds, but watching a large group of them take over my backyard over the summer offered some fascinating insights into their behavior.

For one thing, they are certainly mischievous. I’ve had to battle them to keep my container garden growing. I don’t mind that they bury plum seeds and dog food in my pots, but I do get annoyed when they start messing with my plants. One year I tried planting garlic and we had an extended battle over keeping the bulbs in the ground. Each day the jays would rip out the garlic and damage the bulbs. They wouldn’t eat them, so apparently the jays just didn’t want the garlic in the pots. I had to stick with growing garlic indoors in water (which is easy and yummy, by the way).

The jays enjoy hopping around my pots

This year I tried planting more flowers in the backyard. I thought that succulents would be a good option in this environment, so I purchased two tiny succulents to add to two small pots. Over the course of a week, the jays uprooted the succulents and flung them across the yard on multiple occasions. Even after I lined the edges of the pots with a bunch of BBQ skewers, they still managed to grab the plants and toss them aside. I ended up relocating the pots close to the backyard door, which seems to have finally dissuaded the jays from messing around with these particular plants.

Despite the frustrations with gardening, The jays have been fun to watch as they bathe in the bird bath I set up. There is definitely a pecking order where one is permitted to splash around in the water while the others are sidelined and forced to watch. Only when the alpha bird decides it’s done do the other jays have a chance to drink and bathe.

One day while indoors, I heard a jay calling and I said to my husband, “They must be taking a bath.” Sure enough, there was a jay splashing around in the water. I realized at that point that they have a certain call that I interpret as, “Hey guys, I’m taking a bath!” I can hear that particular call from across the house with the blinds closed and know that they are playing in the water. According to All About Birds, researchers have identified at least 20 different types of jay calls. I think I uncovered one of those calls and can now partially speak jay language!

If you have any California Scrub-Jays around, it might be worth paying a bit more attention to them. They are certainly funny creatures to watch.

Big Year Wrap-Up 2023

March 9, 2024 Elizabeth Olin

Three Tundra Swans fly by against a gray background

Last year I embarked on an incredible journey – my first Big Year competition, sponsored by the San Joaquin Audubon Society. The Big Year is a competition to see as many bird species as possible in one year, and in this case we would be competing within county borders. It proved to be a great way to meet the local birders and to get to know the birding spots here, which was a perfect set-up for newcomers such as myself.

Franklin’s Gull flying while a Ring-billed Gull sleeps. The Franklin’s Gull took multiple attempts to find.

During the year, I experienced many beautiful moments of awe, of being lured into the spell of a rare bird popping by for a day or two. With every rare bird report, I could count on seeing a familiar group of birders later that day as we all rushed out to find the bird. I enjoyed the conversations and friendships that followed.

Because of the Big Year, I went out of my comfort zone by exploring new areas and landed several “lifers” (a bird I’ve never seen before) as a result. I also paid more attention to the birds around me, which undoubtedly aided in my discovery of a Costa’s Hummingbird making my backyard its home. It’s these experiences that I will treasure long after the Big Year is done.

In the end, my husband and I received first place for team effort! We were tied for third in the intermediate category, and placed sixth overall. Not bad for newcomers that were just getting acquainted with an area.

Cooper’s Hawk spreading its wing to defend against a squirrel (not pictured), 2023

A bucket list item is checked. A new year begins. Now what? After a year of grinding, suddenly I’m left with a feeling of uncertainty of how to bird “normally.” I’ve been focusing on my backyard and observing the bird drama. White-crowned Sparrows establishing a pecking order within their foraging unit, Anna’s Hummingbirds aggressively defending their feeder, and battles between jays and mockingbirds for the prime spot in a tree. There’s been so much to explore within my own backyard, and for now that is bringing me the peace and relaxation I need to wind down from 2023.

Dipping

December 20, 2023 Elizabeth Olin

Birders often like to keep lists. A popular list is your “life list”, which is a list of birds that you’ve seen over the course of your life. When you add a new bird to that list, it’s called a “lifer.”

There’s a tradition that some birders follow when they add a lifer to their list. You celebrate with a Lifer Pie. For a fun story and the history behind this tradition, check out Audubon’s article, “Birding Is its Own Reward, but ‘Lifer Pie’ Makes it Even Sweeter.”

My sister likes to celebrate with an alternative sweet reward: a Bird Day Cake (as opposed to a birthday cake – get it?). As someone not particularly fond of pies, I prefer this mode of sugar indulgence much better.

Now opposite of getting a new life bird, there’s this thing called “dipping.” Say there is a bird that someone else has reported. If you go out looking for it but end the day missing your target bird, that’s called dipping.

I’ve dipped a ton this year. There were a lot of rare birds reported throughout the county that were required viewing in order to remain competitive for the Big Year. Despite multiple attempts to nab said bird, our efforts were for naught on countless occasions.

Take for example a recent adventure to find a Franklin’s Gull that popped by for a brief visit to a sewage pond. Upon hearing the report, a mass migration of local birders landed on this spot. I was running errands in another county when the WhatsApp chat exploded with updates. My husband and I raced home to grab our gear and rushed off to the ponds. Upon arrival, we walked as quickly as we could to the group who “had the Franklin’s Gull in their scope.” I took a quick look – no gull. Where was the gull? “It was just here, where did it go?” Gone.

We stayed for an hour-and-a-half, long after all the other birders left, looking for the gull and it never returned. As we set to leave, another birder came by and we wished him luck. Apparently our words are magical because as we pulled out of the lot, my phone blasted a text from the birder saying he got the gull. We rushed back to find him. “I had him in my binoculars a moment ago, but now I don’t see him!” The light was quickly fading and the gulls were leaving. No Franklin Gull for us. That is a great example of dipping. (The next day we returned and did find the Franklin Gull, so it was only a momentary setback).

Returning to the topic of Lifer Pie, my sister came up with a brilliant food-related idea to cheer up an otherwise sad ending: celebrate a dipping event with dips! Artichoke dip, hummus, dipping sauces accompanying fried foods, tzatziki, anything you like.

It’s probably best to find a dip that is on the healthier side because there’s a lot of dipping that happens with birding, although that just makes the successes that much sweeter – figuratively and literally with Lifer Pie!

Surprise Visitor

October 7, 2023 Elizabeth Olin

Anna’s Hummingbird, 2023

Our backyard has seen a lot of bird action since we moved to San Joaquin Valley. California Scrub-Jays love to hop around and cache food in various places, including the lawn and (rather annoyingly) my garden pots. Black Phoebes like to snatch insects from the air in the evenings. White-crowned Sparrows, Northern Mockingbirds, and Eurasian Collared-Doves will poke around the lawn edges for scrumptious bits of food. Occasionally a hummingbird will hover around the Crepe Myrtle trees looking for bugs.

More recently, Anna’s and Black-chinned Hummingbirds have enjoyed my new mason jar feeder. I even had a magical experience with one impatiently sipping from the feeder while I was still holding it. I spent many warm evenings over the summer watching the two hummingbird species go to battle over this food source, giving me a great opportunity to soak up their personalities.

Anna’s Hummingbird, 2023

One evening, I stepped out into the backyard to look at my container garden and to see who might be at the feeder. As I bent down to look at the tender seedlings poking through the soil, an unfamiliar sound caught my attention. I glanced at the feeder and noticed that the call was coming from a little hummer perched on a branch not commonly favored by my usual visitors. I cautiously crept indoors fearing I would scare the hummingbird, and grabbed my husband and our cameras.

Mystery Hummingbird (Read On To Find Out The ID!), 2023

After a brief photoshoot, I had convinced myself that this was a young Black-chinned Hummingbird and went back indoors to eat dinner. I was content to carry on with the evening, but my husband rushed through dinner and went straight to his computer to review the photos. Annoyed that he left me to finish my meal alone, I slurped up the last bit of my soup and then casually joined him to look over the images.

This hummer was so cute! Its few gorget (neck) feathers were a vibrant purple, and it sat like a little puff ball patiently observing its surroundings. I started to wonder – is this actually a young Black-chinned Hummingbird or something else?

Grabbing chairs, cameras, monocular, and a phone to record audio, we quietly set up to watch the hummer – who was thankfully still there – as dusk started to arrive.

There was indeed something different about this one. The few gorget feathers were too purple. It didn’t seem as “necky” or as stretched out like the Black-chinned Hummingbird. And its mannerisms felt different to me, giving off a sense of peace and calm while he watched for nearby food competitors.

A Black-chinned Hummingbird arrived, evoking a series of TINKS from the new hummer. I managed to nab a recording of it. We continued to watch it for a half hour until it flew away for the night.

How lucky I was to capture the TINK audio! My heart started to race as I reviewed all the Anna’s and Black-chinned Hummingbird calls, wondering if we had simply heard an unusual vocalization from our familiar friends. However, none of the recordings lined up with ours. On a hunch, I called up a Costa’s Hummingbird and clicked on the first call. Excitement flooded my system as I heard an exact match. Could it be that we just saw a rare bird, and from our own backyard to boot? A quick post to our local birding group confirmed the ID. What a thrilling moment!

Costa’s Hummingbird; Photo by Gabriel Olin, 2023

It was only because I happened to step outside for a moment and observe an unusual call that we ended up spending time with this beauty. It goes to show that it’s not required that we memorize all the birds in a field guide. Instead, get to know your local birds well enough so that when something unique comes through, you’ll notice and pay attention to it.

Costa’s Hummingbird; Photo by Gabriel Olin, 2023

Summer’s Last Gasp

August 29, 2023 Elizabeth Olin

Western Sandpiper with one Sanderling, 2020

I’m quite sick of summer. The long, hot days and blindingly bright sun have overstayed their welcome. I’d like to think the birds are annoyed with summer as well. They are mostly silent these days, with the exception of the starlings practicing their cover songs. Birding over the summer has largely been uneventful.

As I trudged through June and July, I kept looking to August for a bit of relief. No, it’s not cooler in August by any means. But the birding excitement starts to pick up – it’s sandpiper migration! These tricky little birds offer an advanced lesson in bird ID, and when you’re in the midst of a Big Year, it’s time to learn (and refresh your memory) fast.

Least Sandpiper, 2020

In San Joaquin County, some of the best shorebird spots are around the Delta and water treatment plants. On mornings or evenings that were “cool” enough, we would venture out to the appropriate habitat and carefully review each peep (little sandpipers). Least Sandpipers and Killdeer offer good anchor points for IDs. The Leasts are the tiniest of our peeps while Killdeer are easily recognizable with the double-rings on their breast, red eyes, and persistent calls. From there, you can compare peeps in question with the Leasts and Killdeer based on size differences, bill shape, breast streaking, and sometimes leg color.

No matter how much I study, I cannot absorb the ID markers of a Semipalmated Sandpiper, which is a sandpiper that we need for the Big Year. It’s strikingly similar to the Western Sandpiper, the subtle differences being its overall size and its bill shape. Other peeps have more defined features to grasp, such as the Pectoral Sandpiper with its larger size and heavily-streaked breast, and the Baird’s Sandpiper with its long primary feathers that uniquely extend beyond its tail. These are solid structural features, not subjective features that require experience with the species – hard to do when it’s rare like the Semipalmated Sandpiper.

After many days spent in the hot sun looking through all the sandpipers, we finally spotted all the expected species that come through the area during August plus some bonus species, including the Semipalmated Sandpiper, Baird’s Sandpiper, Pectoral Sandpiper, Solitary Sandpiper, and Stilt Sandpiper. As the month – and therefore summer – finally comes to an end, our visits to sandpiper habitat will soon shift to looking for warblers and other fall goodies in wooded areas.

This morning was pleasantly cool, and the sun cast an orange glow through the trees. Fall is almost here, and I can’t wait!

Staten Island, CA, 2023