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Walnut Stories: Part 2

Walnut Stories: Part 2

American Crow

American Crow Visitor

The year 2020 continues to deliver difficult challenges. For those of us on the West Coast, we’re dealing with fires and smoke, either directly or indirectly. I hope the continuation of this story will bring a moment of joy for you during these times.

See Walnut Stories: Part 1 for the first portion of this story.

On the third day of my experiment, a single crow was waiting on the gutter, just below my window. They are getting bolder. I told it to retreat to the roof of the nearby building. Interestingly, it obliged and I tossed the walnut piece onto the graveled roof. The crow ate part of the walnut, then flew to a nearby tree to finish the treat. It then returned to the roof and sat on a fat pipe for a while before begging again at the gutter below my window. However, I’m limiting the crows to one walnut a day. No need to get spoiled here.

Fast forward several weeks and this pattern continued. I have watched with interest their behavior towards each other. The smaller one is the more cunning of the pair. It started to come by on its own in the morning, cawing at my window. After getting a walnut piece, it would either eat it immediately or stash it. Later, it would come by with its friend. I would throw them each a walnut, so now the little guy gets two pieces! This went on for a few days.

Then the little guy started a new behavior. It would show up with its friend and beg at the gutter. When I opened the window, the larger friend would fly to the roof, but the small one would stay at the window watching me. I would toss out two walnut pieces, one at a time. The little guy would quickly collect the first walnut, watch me intently, and then dart after the second piece. The little crow nabbed both pieces and left its friend with none! That cunning, small crow was figuring out ways to get more goodies. I wised up to this behavior and can now manage to throw both pieces at the same time onto the roof of the nearby building.

It’s been fascinating watching the crows interact and scam each other for food. Their intelligence and strategies around getting a piece of walnut is really fun to observe. Next time you see a crow in the neighborhood, watch it for a while and see if you can find anything unique!

Walnut Stories: Part 1

Walnut Stories: Part 1

American Crow

American Crow Visitor

I have a bag of walnuts. I don’t particularly like walnuts, but I got them from our CSA (community-supported agriculture). I remember reading that crows liked walnuts, and there an idea was hatched.

I live in an apartment building tucked between commercial businesses. From my window, I can see the top of a medical building, which sports a maze of pipes, gravel, and a constant water drip from a cooling unit. It’s the perfect playground for crows. Last summer I watched a pair and their young play in the water drip and use it to wet crusty bread. This summer, a large and small crow came to play in the pipe maze. I decided to see if the crows would take a liking to locally grown and organic walnuts.

On the first morning of my experiment, the two crows were on the roof of the medical building cawing, unaware of my peering at them. I tossed open my window, which startled the smaller one. The larger one seemed to look at me inquisitively. I tossed one walnut piece onto the roof, which cemented the fear in the smaller crow and immediately flew away. The larger one, however, ran up to the walnut, grabbed it, and proceeded to parade around the roof with the walnut in its mouth until I lost track of it.

I threw another piece to the smaller crow. It eyed the walnut suspiciously for a few moments before deciding it was safe. The crow cautiously slinked towards the walnut, nabbed it, and immediately flew to another spot on the roof to gulp it down. So far, success!

The next morning, the smaller crow was on the roof by itself. I opened up the window, which did not seem to startle it this time. Instead, it watched me with curious eyes. I threw a walnut piece, and the crow grabbed it, shoved it between its toes, and picked at it for a while.

After a few nibbles, it walked around with the remainder of the walnut in its beak. Then, to my surprise, it stood in front of a brick that was holding up pipes, and the crow placed the walnut remains into a crevice. It then grabbed a few gravel pieces, covered up the walnut, and flew away. It stashed it for later use!

Check back soon for a continuation of this story!

Morning Routine

Morning Routine

Anna's Hummingbird

Anna’s Hummingbird, one of many birds I hear in the mornings

Groggy and disoriented, I pulled myself out of bed. What day is it? Do I work today? Did I oversleep? Quarantine-brain is in full force, causing the days to blend together. Bleary-eyed, I wandered into the kitchen to grab my breakfast and watch the birds. I heard a squabble at the bird feeder just outside the window. The feeder was nearly out of the much-desired sunflower seeds causing fierce territory wars. I threw open the window, which would normally scatter all the birds, but one brave Lesser Goldfinch remained behind. She watched me grab the feeder and patiently waited for the refill.

Once the feeder was back in place, the delicate female goldfinch plopped herself onto the plate and hogged down for a solid six minutes with no interruptions from other birds. I watched as she grabbed a seed and meticulously chewed it down, all while darting her gaze looking out for danger. Her bill was plastered with chunks of seeds – I wanted to offer her a napkin. Grabbing a bit of my bagel, I moved just enough to spook her, thus ending the buffet.

The rest of the morning was spent listening to the leftovers of the morning chorus. I watched a pair of crows tend to their nest. A pair of Dark-eyed Juncos picked through dropped seeds in the gutter below. Pigeons were flapping against a brilliant blue sky. Shelter-in-place has been challenging for us humans. But sitting at the window watching the birds helps to let go of worries for just a little while.

Bird Feeder Blues

Bird Feeder Blues

I woke up to a chilly February morning, grabbed my phone, and surfed through my emails in bed. This is a typical routine for the weekend as I look through my rare bird alerts. One of my emails was from the National Audubon Society advertising a pretty blue bird feeder. A few hours later, I was the proud new owner of a feeder.

I’ve had bird feeders in the past. A finch sock for thistle attracted House Finches and Lesser Goldfinches, but after the roof was redone on our apartment building, we decided to remove the feeder since it made a mess and could have affected the new roofing from our third-story location.

Then I had a hummingbird feeder for a while. Sadly, I forgot to refill the feeder for several days and it was outside cooking in the hot sun. Mold grew inside the glass tube, and despite multiple rounds of bleaching, I couldn’t get rid of it. I didn’t want to harm the hummers, so I threw it away.

Now I’m using a feeder that can attract multiple types of birds. I filled it with no-mess sunflower seeds, and waited.

And waited.

And waited…

February comes and goes. March comes and goes. What the heck? Daily I would stare at the bird-less feeder, jealously hearing all the finches calling outside. Why won’t they come?

With the stay-at-home orders in place, I’m now working from home. No commute means I have some extra time before I start work. I’m spending that extra time in the mornings watching the crows build and tend to a nest and listening to the morning chorus of songs and calls. And watching the bird-less feeder.

On a warm April afternoon, I was in the living room and heard a Lesser Goldfinch sing. It sounded close! I snuck into the kitchen to look at the feeder through the window. Aaaand nothing. Bummed, I went back to the living room. But wait, I heard it again! I repeated my slow approach, and spotted it – a male Lesser Goldfinch downing the seed and singing! It was later joined by a female.

I’ve been watching this pair visit the feeder sporadically throughout the day. I’m happy to finally have some bird action at the feeder.

Warbler Wobble

Warbler Wobble

AH-CHOO!

Crum. I don’t sneeze unless it’s related to allergies. How can I be sneezing in February? Sneezing, migraine, and vertigo settle in, rendering me unable to do anything but whine on the couch. Sounds of construction overpower any chance of hearing bird activity outside, except for the occasional crow.

This goes on for a couple days when I finally throw on some shoes and risk the great outdoors of my neighborhood. I have to be careful to not swing my head around too much lest the vertigo send a not-so-subtle reminder that I can’t walk straight. “Warbler neck,” the term used to describe neck soreness after staring up into tree tops for warblers, has turned into my dizzying version called “Warbler Wobble.”

The warm, golden glow of the sun cheers me up instantly, accompanied with a chorus of bird calls claiming territories for singing love songs. The Oak Titmouse is the loudest this early evening, with Anna’s Hummingbirds, Lesser Goldfinches, Mourning Doves, and Yellow-rumped Warblers offering backing vocals.

I stand in one spot straining my neck to see the finches and warblers without the help of binoculars. I’m hoping that the neighbors don’t think I’m weird, although I’ve worn my “Can’t Talk Now… I’m Birding” t-shirt for good measure.

While staring up, I see a woodpecker silhouette on a telephone pole. Wow, what a lot of red! Wait, it’s a Red-breasted Sapsucker! Only the second time I’ve seen one in this neighborhood over the years.

AH-CHOO!

There’s my clue that I’ve overextended my stay in the outdoors. I slowly walk home absorbing all the sweet calls and delighted to see a special bird to cheer me up.

December eBird Challenge – Media Submissions

December eBird Challenge – Media Submissions

Dark-eyed Junco

I am participating in the December eBird challenge to submit 20 checklists with media attached (recordings or photos). It’s a repeat of a challenge from the spring, which I completed with ease as I recorded lots of birds singing for the breeding season. However, this month is uniquely different. In one word – rain.

We need the rain and I’ve been so happy that we finally have moisture to dampen our bone-dry hills. But I’m not about to drag my camera out into the storms. So I’m focusing on recordings again. During the downpours, the birds are generally tucked away and I’m similarly rushing for cover from the elements. When it does stop raining, the birds are out and about trying to nab food. Humans are out too and quite noisy. I’m suddenly aware of how much construction is around with various loud beeps and buzzes alerting the town to big trucks in reverse. The city noise unsurprisingly drowns out the birds in my recordings.

One morning, I tried to capture at least one recording. The birds were too far in one recording and barely audible even with the volume on max. Another attempt captured a loud garbage truck that suddenly appeared as soon as I clicked “record.” In yet another attempt, the subject stopped calling immediately after I set up the phone. I finally landed a recording of a group of Dark-eyed Juncos, although foot traffic and cars driving by were captured in the background. It’ll have to do.

I previously wrote about the challenges of recording in an urban environment, but this December challenge seems unusually difficult, probably because outdoor activity from all creatures (birds and humans) is condensed into pockets of time between storms creating a blur of competing background noise. Plus, birds aren’t quite as vocal as the spring. I find it quite interesting to see these differences from the exact same challenge in two very different months!

Window Bird Watching

Window Bird Watching

The clock tower tolls its reminder that it’s time to eat. I heat up my lunch and sit down for the first time in hours. I’m too tired to go out for my usual lunchtime stroll around the campus. Through my office windows, I stare out over the glade and watch bright-eyed students walk to their classes. The view of the bay is hazy, but I can still make out the blue waters and the San Francisco skyline. A cool breeze gently escapes the outdoors into my office as I munch down my meal.

I made a new eBird personal location: Office Window Watching. From this vantage point high up in my building, it would be difficult to make out the little birds bouncing through the grass and trees, but I do gain a wider perspective of the activity. In the past, I’ve seen pigeons flap by, Canada Geese honking in formation, and crows dancing in the sky. I heard my first-of-season Brown-headed Cowbird while working in my office, and also the screams of the Peregrine Falcon families. So why not make a new location and enjoy window birding?

I found out how much mental presence you need when watching birds from an office building, especially if you don’t have a pair of binoculars handy. I had to zone in on the screechy calls of the California Scrub-Jays over the chimes of the clock tower. What I thought was a sparrow on top of a tree ended up being one of the jays. Two silhouetted birds flapped from the top of one building to another, and I had to rely on shape and flying pattern to identify them as pigeons. All my senses were put into action and despite sitting in my office, my mind was far away from work and into the world of birding. I saw eight species just from my window. What a lovely way to disconnect from the busyness of the day, relax, and tune into nature in an urban setting.

Hanging Out With The Crows

Hanging Out With The Crows

Young crows are vocal, shiny black balls. They follow their parents around while belching out a dry “caw” sound. When a parent gives it food (by cramming its beak down the young crow’s throat), the young crow gives off a call that sounds like what I imagine a dying cat would sound like.

I’ve had coworkers come to me alarmed by this call. I reassure them that the crow is fine, it’s just eating.

A family of crows is intent on feeding on top of the medical building that I can view from my apartment window. Every so often throughout the day, the dying call wails from the young crow as it’s being fed.

I finally carved out some time to watch the feeding in action. I can easily identify the one young crow by its constant calls to be fed, as well as the very red, fleshy mouth it displays while holding its beak open waiting for sustenance.

I watched as a parent unsuccessfully pecked at a very stale piece of bread. I imagined it gave up on the bread when it meandered over to dripping water coming from an air conditioning pipe. I chuckled as it used the meager drops to wet its feathers. But wait, it wasn’t only getting a bath – it put the stale bread into the little puddle that the droplets were forming! That didn’t seem to be working too well, so it shoved the bread into the pipe where the water was running. Success! Moistened bread for the win! Crows are truly geniuses.

My Birding Day: Neighborhood Walk

My Birding Day: Neighborhood Walk

Mourning Dove

Mourning Dove, 2015

It was cloudy and humid outside – nature preparing for a rare “late-season atmospheric river” set to hit the Bay Area. I watched a Mourning Dove in its fresh tan plumage displaying large black spots on its wings. I marveled at the metallic pink clump of feathers near its throat and a sky-blue eye ring. It was gently picking up a stick here and there, dropping the ones that didn’t meet its nesting standards. The dove finally selected a long, green stick and noisily flew away from sight. I wondered if the nest will survive the upcoming storm.

A recycling truck chased me around the neighborhood for a couple of blocks, effectively cutting out my ability to bird by ear. I silently thanked the workers for doing a job that is so important for the environment but tends to be a thankless task. I turned my attention to the various flowers lining the carefully landscaped homes. Bright pinks, oranges, and purples sprouted everywhere and I was lost in the sea of colors until the recycling truck and I parted ways.

Flowers

Flowers, 2019

A Lesser Goldfinch conducted a perfect imitation of an Oak Titmouse and I listened to its song for several minutes. Bushtits flocked from bush to tree to bush. My attention was grabbed by a pair of young Chestnut-backed Chickadees squeaking out a baby babble’s version of the chickadee call while furiously flapping their wings. A parent nearby was hopping on branches, poking under leaves, and clinging to house walls in search of food for its babies. The short, half hour walk ended with the sun peeking out momentarily before slipping back behind the clouds.

Flowers

Succulents, 2019

Flowers

Flowers, 2019

Bird Sound Recordings

Bird Sound Recordings

Savannah Sparrow

Savannah Sparrow, Bolsa Chica, 2018

I bird a lot by ear. It’s challenging and yet highly rewarding. It opens up a new world allowing me to discover the birds of the day, which is especially useful if I don’t have my binoculars with me. I’m still learning so much as there are countless songs, calls, and chip notes to memorize. Even birds that I’m quite familiar with will surprise me with “new” material.

Tree Swallow

Tree Swallow, Coyote Hills RP, 2017

Imagine my delight when eBird and the Macaulay Library released two sound challenges. The April eBird challenge is to submit 20 checklists with a recording and/or photo. Macaulay Library has an even loftier goal of asking birders to submit 90 recordings through the end of October.

Excited, I tried my first recording on my Samsung Galaxy smartphone using Voice Record Pro. I downloaded Audacity to process my recordings. I watched tutorials on how to process and submit recordings according to Macaulay Library standards. There was a bit of a learning curve but I got the hang of it.

As I recorded more, I started to realize how much background noise is picked up. The hum of distant traffic, a bike or car racing by, conversations by hikers, and the ever-present ambulance and police sirens. I began to realize how much I tune out these sound bites constantly. I was frustrated with my noisy recordings. They weren’t clean and clear – why would they want to utilize these?

Mottled Duck

Mottled Duck, Texas, 2018

It dawned on me that this is my birding world. I bird in the buzz of an urban environment. The birds are still here. They are competing with the noise. Capturing my experience for researchers will hopefully contribute to efforts to understand the urban bird experience. So, I will continue to submit my noisy pieces and be more thankful for those rare moments of complete silence surrounding me when the opportunity arises.

Hutton's Vireo

Hutton’s Vireo, William R Mason RP, 2019