Travels – My Birding World

Point Pinos Seawatch

December 12, 2025 Elizabeth Olin

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.

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 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

November 24, 2025 Elizabeth Olin

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.

Winter Birding in Arizona

January 23, 2022 Elizabeth Olin

Sandhill Cranes, Arizona 2021. Photo by Rod Jimenez.

I’m delighted to post this story by guest writer Cassondra Wiley. Join me in reading about her recent birding adventures in Arizona during the winter! -Elizabeth

I’d been to the southeastern region of Arizona before. Winter is not known as its most optimal time for bird activity, but even in late December, the birding had been exceptional. Sitting before the feeders of the Santa Rita Lodge in the Madera Canyon area, I’d seen fiery red Summer Tanagers and Rivoli’s Hummingbirds with shimmering emerald throats. At Patagonia Lake State Park, there had been abundant Bridled Titmice, with their boldly drawn facial lines. In Picacho State Park, there had been the shadowy dark shapes of Black Vultures gracefully spiraling in the sky. My life list grew and I was left with the impression that no matter the season, southeastern Arizona is THE place for birding.

Bridled Titmouse, Arizona 2021. Photo by Rod Jimenez.

Three years have passed since that initial excursion. After years of overwork without days off, I finally had a bit of time for myself, once again in late December. I thumbed through an old field guide for the birds of Arizona, its cover adorned with images of the Elegant Trogon, a reincarnation of rainbows in bird-form. I watched videos of birders hiking through canyons in the Sierra Vista area, stumbling upon the inquisitive, childishly round faces of Spotted Owls. I did not set my hopes so high as to imagine finding birds as rare and spectacular as these, but I did expect to check a few new birds off my life list.

Roseate Spoonbill, Arizona 2021. Photo by Rod Jimenez.

On the drive into Arizona, we stopped at the Gilbert Riparian Preserve. On my previous visit to the state, the Curve-billed Thrashers had been secretive, but on this day, they bravely faced the daylight, sang their boisterous tunes, and blessed me with prolonged looks at their sunshine yellow eyes. The tiny Verdin, with their glowing, golden faces, flitted about in their restless manner. Gambel’s Quail chased each other in every corner of the preserve, topknots jauntily bouncing as they ran. We easily found the cotton candy pink Roseate Spoonbill who had defied his expected range of existence and decided to settle in the Phoenix suburb. The color, the exotically shaped bill, the uniqueness from any bird I’d ever seen before, had to be expressed by a little victory dance as I nabbed my first lifer of the trip. This was merely a stop along the way; it wasn’t even part of the “real” birding trip about to unfold. My expectations ballooned.

But they were quickly deflated.

We hiked through the canyons I had seen in videos where happy birders went home with shots of Spotted Owls and trogons. Battered by relentless, frigid winds, I kept trying, hoping that I, too, would be rewarded with a special bird. But none came. In fact, there were barely any birds at all. There were a couple of Mexican Jays. A Red-naped Sapsucker clung to a tree and crept in circles along the bark. And that was it. Not a single other bird was seen or heard. We went through supposed hotspots in Willcox, finding no birds other than a Canyon Towhee. We walked down a trail that had boasted regular sightings of a Grey Catbird, only to be drenched by an abrupt unleashing of water from the sky. A couple of locals explained, apologetically, that this had been a relatively dry year in the area, leading to a lack of growth of the foods their birds favor. Without their favorite foods, it seemed, the birds did not feel like lingering.

Pyrrhuloxia, Arizona 2021. Photo by Rod Jimenez.

This is not to say that the trip was entirely unrewarding. We saw thousands upon thousands of Sandhill Cranes flood the sky at sunrise. At bird feeders, we saw at least a dozen Pyrrhuloxia, my favorite bird in all of Arizona, with their blood-red, rebellious crests and odd, stubby bills. I spotted a Painted Redstart, with its splash of scarlet cutting through its yin-and-yang boldly contrasting black and white pattern. But I had expected… more. I thought I would expand my life list. I thought I would track down the Crested Caracara that I had so desperately wanted last time, but couldn’t find. I thought I’d surely see the Scaled Quail that are supposed to litter the grasslands in the area. And none of this was happening.

Painted Redstart, Arizona 2021. Photo by Rod Jimenez.

On our last day in Arizona, stubbornly standing beneath a minimally protective shelter at the Paton Center for Hummingbirds, with rain being propelled sideways by increasingly potent, icy winds, something small silently (or perhaps silenced by the onslaught of wind and rain) zipped past me. It perched briefly on a feeder, its red, needle-like bill probing for nectar. Its white throat and belly were striking against its dull green back and purple crown. There, at our very last spot for the trip, the birds of Arizona sent me–shivering and completely soaked–a peace-offering in apology for their underwhelming showing: a lifer and a beautiful one, at that. The Violet-crowned Hummingbird became my 368^th bird and the hard-won victory for days of cold, wet failure at the game of birding.

Violet-crowned Hummingbird, Arizona 2021. Photo by Rod Jimenez.

Upon arriving home, I took a glance at the “rare bird alert” reports for the places we’d just inspected. Green Kingfisher. Montezuma Quail. Grey Catbird. Elegant Trogon. All seen exactly where we had been… All seen the day we left… If my binoculars had been handy at that moment, I probably would’ve thrown them out the window, ceremoniously declaring an end to my birding days.

More often than not, we as birders come home without the birds we’d hoped to find. (At least I do.) We hunt for a rarity that decides not to emerge until the instant we give up and go home. We visit places that we suspect will be filled with plenty of birds to inspect and admire only to find that they seem to be quietly hiding and in no mood for visitors. It’s a hobby often rife with disappointment, it would seem. And yet still we go, waking before sunrise, trudging through mud or snow, driving for hours and hours, always fueled by the thin hope that we’ll bear witness to a sighting from the rare bird alerts, that we’ll add one more sighting to our lifetime tally, or that we’ll simply see something of personal significance to ourselves alone. Perhaps as much as the birds themselves, what we as birders truly enjoy is the adventure of trying to find them. We remember not only the birds we find, but the birds we fail to find. The victorious tales of finding an avian specialty are sometimes just as good as the stories of spectacular failure. Whether successful in our pursuits or not, we remember the stories of what we’ve done for the birds.

Written by Cassondra Wiley. Photographs by Rod Jimenez.

Quick November Tahoe Trip

November 30, 2019 Elizabeth Olin

Fallen Leaf Lake, Tahoe, 2019

I stepped out of the front door and was greeted with a blast of chilly air. Cars and sidewalks sparkled from the overnight frost that would remain crystalized for most of the morning. I glanced at the trash pickings left by three bears and a coyote from the night before. For the first time in many never-ending-heated months, I was happy to bundle up against the unfamiliar cold. Despite three layers of socks, my toes still went numb in my athletic shoes designed to allow air flow. Time to invest in a different type of shoes.

Our first stop was at Fallen Leaf Lake – a required stop for all of our Tahoe trips. Today it was unusually quiet with the campgrounds long closed for the season. We hiked for over an hour without running into another person. The lake was crystal clear and blue, with the mountains towering mystically in the distance. The stillness was soothing and such a relief from the bustling city we call home.

We came to an Aspen grove, devoid of most of the bright yellow leaves. I noticed a pinecone in one of the trees – “oddly placed,” I thought. Curiously, I zoomed into the pinecone with my frozen binoculars, only it wasn’t a pinecone. “Owl!” I shouted, maybe too loudly, to my husband. A little Northern Pygmy-Owl sat there watching us with yellow, piercing eyes. Sometimes it flashed its feathered false eyes on the back of its head when it was comfortable with directing its attention elsewhere for a brief moment. Double exciting was submitting an eBird report for this “unreported” species for Fallen Leaf Lake. After watching the tiny bundle of owl for a while, we quietly snuck away to give it some peace.

Lake Baron, Tahoe, 2019

After the first park visit, we grabbed sandwiches and headed over to a newly-discovered birding location called Lake Baron, which is nestled in Tahoe Paradise Park. I was awed by this community park. It had picnic benches and sported a play area like I’m familiar with at home, but manicured grass and crawling sidewalks were replaced by towering mountain trees and bustling with bird activity. A group of Hooded Mergansers and Common Mergansers swam with American Wigeons in the lake. A Townsend’s Solitaire was calling off in the distance. Mountain Chickadees and Dark-eyed Juncos were busy foraging in the trees and bushes. Perhaps the oddest sight for me was spotting a Bald Eagle sitting in a pine tree. I’m accustomed to these majestic creatures dwarfing their surroundings in the Bay Area, but this one seemed small and out of place to my inexperienced mountain eyes. It’s about the closest I’ve ever been to a wild Bald Eagle.

Hooded Merganser, Tahoe, 2019

I was sad to leave Tahoe so soon, but a storm was threatening to dump several feet of snow and close the nearby roads. We’ll be back to explore new parks and bask in the serene and peaceful mountain experience in the New Year.

Vegas, Baby!

November 1, 2019 Elizabeth Olin

Red Rock Canyon NCA

A look of confusion always crosses people’s faces when I tell them I’m going to Vegas. “What’s not to love?” I try explaining. “I sit at the penny slots and my husband tries to score free drinks while watching me lose our money!” (Actually, I’m a stingy gambler and set tight limits.) But people know me as a nature-loving bird-obsessed lady and don’t necessarily picture me in the thick of flashing lights, flowing alcohol, and scantily-clad entertainers. And yet, it’s a trip I like to do every few years.

This time we tried a new adventure and peeled ourselves away from The Strip. We rented a car for a day and I had to choose between Clark County Wetlands Park or Red Rock Canyon NCA, two good birding locations. I was pulled by the possibility of adding some desert lifers to my list, so out to the very chilly rocky desert we went.

Woodhouse’s Scrub Jay

Red Rock is a scenic 13-mile drive with lots of pullouts that lead to trails. The scenery was beautiful with the desert plant life and climbing rocks and canyons, but I was having a hard time locating the birds. They seemed extra wary and skittish, disappearing or halting their calls when we turned our attention in their direction.

There were two spots in particular that finally yielded decent bird activity without having to venture too far from the car: Lost Creek and Pine Creek Canyon. At Lost Creek, we spotted Woodhouse’s Scrub-Jays and heard the unmistakable scratchy call of a Juniper Titmouse – the two lifers we would pick up from the trip. A couple of Verdin briefly showed. Spotted Towhees and White-crowned Sparrows were plentiful.

American Robin

Pine Creek Canyon had the most variety including Gambel’s Quail heard off in the distance, a shy Cactus Wren that allowed only a brief glance before disappearing into the cactus, and a Ladder-backed Woodpecker that laughed while expertly covered in one of the few trees around. We uncovered a watering hole where a Phainopepla, various finches, and at least a hundred American Robins fluttered back and forth to grab a drink before the sun set. We were glued to the water spot for most of the walk, failing to identify some new calls but excited to watch the activity.

This side trip only whet our appetite to veer off The Strip and explore what Clark County has to offer with birds. Next time we will integrate time to gamble and to see Gambel’s Quail!

SoCal Birding

September 15, 2019 Elizabeth Olin

Red-Necked Phalarope, Orange County, 2019

I was in SoCal last weekend to visit family and hop around to familiar birding sights. It was a super hot weekend, so many of our birding trips were spent sitting under the shade and watching the birds from a single spot. For this particular trip, I enjoyed taking pictures of birds. After reviewing the images, I noticed things about the bird subjects that I wished I would have noticed in person.

This White-faced Ibis (non-breeding/immature plumage) has a stunning array of feather colors. White and brown tones were featured in its face, with the chocolate dripping down its neck into the splatter of cinnamon feathers, and replaced with metallic tan and shiny green. It also has a bold red eye, and almost seems to be smirking in this picture.

Anna’s Hummingbird, Orange County 2019

I did get pictures of this Anna’s Hummingbird’s face, but I enjoyed this picture in particular because it highlighted the individual shiny green feathers down its back. Also evident is a fluff of white downy feathers that I typically don’t notice in hummers. The spiky bill made this hummer look like it was holding a weapon!

Black-Crowned Night Heron, Orange County 2019

As the sun was setting, the birds were flying about to their roosting locations. This Black-crowned Night Heron took brief refuge in a tree. It glowed golden in the fading sun. The red eye captured my attention, as well as the way its feet wrapped awkwardly around the thin branch.

Reddish Egret, Orange County 2019

A big treat this trip was seeing not one, not two, but three Reddish Egrets. They are a joy to watch as they frantically dance about as part of their goofy foraging technique. I typically see them from afar, but this particular individual was kind enough to remain posed for a closer portrait. The reddish/purplish head and neck contrasts with the grey blue back, but it was the yellowish eye that caught my attention.

Oregon Trip Part II: Lower Klamath Falls National Wildlife Refuge

July 28, 2019 Elizabeth Olin

Franklin’s Gull Going After Insect, Lower Klamath Falls NWR, 2017

See Oregon Trip Part I for the first part of this story.

We spent the morning at Summer Lake and were giddy with all the cool birds we found. It was a beautiful, mountainous drive southward towards civilization, and Lower Klamath Falls NWR would be our last big birding spot of our trip. We didn’t realize it was an auto tour which made for a lot of driving as this was the second auto tour of the day, and we still had to continue to Dunsmuir for our final night.

During the entire auto tour, we never saw another car. It was completely empty of visitors. We saw Yellow-headed Blackbirds, Tricolored Blackbirds, Franklin Gulls, and even accidentally startled a Bald Eagle. But the coolest event involved one of our target birds: the Sandhill Cranes. We heard the cranes in Summer Lake but didn’t get to see them. Slightly disappointed, I added them to my life list wishing we could have at least glimpsed them. Their rattling call is quite memorable.

Sandhill Cranes and Coyote, Lower Klamath Falls NWR, 2017

We were on the auto tour for quite a long time, always seeming to be on the brink of getting lost. As we rounded the final part of the auto tour, we spotted two cranes! But that wasn’t the only activity out there. Nearby was a coyote. We watched the coyote as it feigned indifference to the alert cranes. But with each seemingly disinterested step, the coyote crept closer and closer to the cranes without alarming them. It was sneaky Wile E. Coyote tactics as it avoided focusing on the birds while inching closer. The cranes were huge compared to the coyote and I was shocked to observe its boldness. I was ready to watch a big battle of life and death unfold before me. It was probably a good 20 minutes of watching the hunt when the coyote thought better of its decision and eventually skulked away. How fascinating to watch this scene and learn how the coyote could creep so close to the birds without scaring them off flying!

Oregon Trip Part I: Summer Lake

July 21, 2019 Elizabeth Olin

Clark’s Nutcracker, Crater Lake NP, 2017

It was pitch black out when we rolled off the lonely highway in the high desert of Summer Lake, Oregon, and we clumsily walked around the grounds in search of our cabin. This was Day 2 of my first-ever road trip, and we were exhausted after having driven from Crescent City to Crater Lake and eventually to Summer Lake several hours east.

Arriving while it was dark, I did not notice that we were inches away from blindly stepping into a small lake while looking for our cabin. I also did not realize how many birds we would see once the sun popped out the following morning. Instead, I could only make out the porch light beaming brightly with the thousands of bugs attracted to that little beacon. We opened the door and all those bugs, and mosquitoes, invited themselves into our room. We would have to open the door two more times: to retrieve our bags and return to our room. It was in that moment of realization that I weighed the pros and cons of sleeping in the insect-free car for the night. Instead, I chose to use the fly swatter on the wall and whack the bugs out of existence for the next hour. I slept with my jacket strategically wrapped around my head forming a small hole to breathe through. A weird way to sleep, but I woke up bite-free.

Young Tree Swallows in the Morning Light, Summer Lake, 2017

The next morningI could hear the chatter of calls and melodic tunes coming from outside and I couldn’t stay put. Soundlessly, so as not to wake up my husband, I left the cabin and slipped outdoors to greet the birds. I watched California Quail running around, I was dive-bombed multiple times by an aggressive Tree Swallow, and I carefully scanned the Red-winged Blackbirds for signs of a Tricolored Blackbird. I relaxed at the pond near the cabin and was thankful that we didn’t fall into it the night before.

After nearly an hour of enjoying the calm and cool morning, I heard it – our target bird. I reentered the cabin and gently woke up my husband by announcing “Trumpeter Swans!!” Out of bed, throw on fresh clothes, out of there in a flash. It was a good thing I woke him because the swans disappeared not too long after that.

All and all, this was a worthwhile stop. The nearby auto tour produced lifers, including Yellow-headed Blackbirds and Franklin Gulls. I would recommend coming here at least once for the birds. Just be sure to arrive in the day or turn off your porch light.

Yellow-Headed Blackbird, Summer Lake Auto Tour, 2017

My Birding Day: South Lake Tahoe

June 12, 2019 Elizabeth Olin

I haven’t written a post in a few weeks, partly because the Bay Area is warming up and I don’t do very well in the heat. The birds don’t particularly like the heat either. Birders mourn the summer blues where birding gets a little dull between migration and breeding seasons. It’s also straight up uncomfortable if you’re outdoors in the hottest part of the day.

This weekend I escaped to Tahoe on a whim to help cope with the heat and enjoy the 30-degree temperature difference. I love Tahoe and the mountains. The trees are different, the air is fresh, and new birds pop out here and there. I’m still trying to find the birding hotspots around the Tahoe area, but my go-to place is always Fallen Leaf Lake.

Lodgepole Chipmunk, Fallen Leaf Lake, 2019

This lake is much smaller than Lake Tahoe, but it’s less crowded and more peaceful. Lodgepole Chipmunks are frantically running around and Mountain Chickadees are delightfully singing their bluesy tunes. I always find White-headed Woodpeckers, all three nuthatches (Red-breasted, Pygmy, and White-breasted), and Brown Creepers. This summer trip yielded plenty of Western Wood-Pewees and Warbling Vireos. Although not bursting with concentrated birding activity, Fallen Leaf Lake offers a beautiful hike. If you go early enough, you can walk quite a ways without running into people.

Western Tanager, Van Sickle Bi-State Park, 2019

We checked out another park for the first time that crosses state lines: Van Sickle Bi-State Park. Colorful Western Tanagers popped out against the trees, a House Wren sang its heart out despite our close presence, and Steller’s Jays were busy eating enormous ants off the ground. My favorite moment was hearing a Fox Sparrow sing. These sparrows are present in the East Bay, but only in the winter and thus they are pretty quiet. The song was so captivating that I had to capture a recording on my phone for later submission on my birding checklist. I will definitely check out this Nevada site again and venture out further than a quarter mile from the parking lot!

House Wren, Van Sickle Bi-State Park, 2019

Overall a great quick trip that gave us respite from the recording-breaking Bay Area heat.

March SoCal Trip

March 31, 2019 Elizabeth Olin

Western Bluebird, Huntington Central Park, 2019

Last weekend I visited my family in Southern California. We hit up as many birding hotspots as we could squeeze in a three-day trip. Spring was definitely in the air as we watched Japanese White-Eyes gathering nesting material, House Wren chasing away squirrels, and songs erupting everywhere.

Mandarin Ducks, Irvine Regional Park, 2019

The most exciting part of the trip was finding two rarities. One was a Gray Flycatcher – a lifer for us – catching bugs at Irvine Regional Park. It was a joy to watch as it hawked insects at dusk.

The other rarity was found at a little neighborhood community trail in Murrieta. A shadowy walk under trees that would eventually lead to a nearby park yielded a Plumbeous Vireo, who made an extremely brief visit with just enough time to snap an identifiable picture before it flew off into the neighborhood never to be seen again that day.

Common Raven, Irvine Regional Park, 2019

Rare birds are fun to see, but I also enjoy visiting the SoCal birds. Western Bluebirds were a brilliant blue, Common Ravens were busy croaking, and Red-crowned Parrots were noisily announcing their presence – which also made me laugh every time they squawked. Happy Spring!

Red-Crowned Parrot, Irvine Regional Park, 2019

My Birding World

A Birding Blog by Elizabeth Olin

Browsed by
Category: Travels