The Long and Short of It

Days after our trip to Florida, I was afflicted by a certain amount of lassitude. These bouts with sluggishness have been happening with alarming frequency lately. Thank heavens my wife would, without fail, wake me up from these moments of languor by these loving words: Go out and bird!

Spurred by Cynthia's encouraging "suggestion" I prepared my camera gear, albeit a tad wearily, when a brilliant thought flashed in my stupefied brain. I have not been using my 500mm lens lately - it's weight a factor that more often than not precluded it from being used in the field - so why not take it out and give my flabs a much needed work-out.

Of course, my destination shouldn't be far and should not require extensive use of a pair of legs that had been in action for more than 60 years. I chose Eaton Canyon in Pasadena where there are birds within a hundred yards radius from the parking lot. I wasn't disappointed. By simply plopping my gear near the drips I was able to capture in digital media the private lives of some lovely birds. At home after processing my photos, I was amazed at the quality that my long lens produced. Like these Nashville Warbler and Black-headed Grosbeak photos:



That was a complete contrast to the pictures I took two days later from basically the same spot, but this time using my short (and light) 300mm lens. Although some of the pictures turned out well, the images were, of course, a lot smaller and needed more tweaking during post-processing. The California Quail was the look-out as its mate and progeny fed nearby, and Bewick's Wrens were always oblivious of people around them so I was able to get some close-up shots of this one.

Now it was as if two tiny "Bobs" were sitting on my shoulders: the one on the left, the tiny, aesthetic Bob whispers to me, "use the 500 more often and get better photos"; while the one on the right, the wee yet physical Bob says, "use the shorter lens, walk around a lot and get pictures of more species".

Life is full of dilemmas, isn't it?

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Da Do Wren Wren

The Canon 40D is the latest digital SLR that appeals to the advanced amateur because of its many photographer-friendly features.Of course, any self-respecting bird-photographer of my level would love to have their hands on this new toy. Of course, deep in my heart I wanted it. But I've been hemming and hawing..always telling myself that "yeah, it would be nice to own it, but hmmm, I am unemployed and I need to conserve my resources". That wavering went on and on, until…

My wife could no longer stand my wishy-washiness. "Let's go to Samy's Camera", she said last Friday. "You have an account with them and we will wangle a good bargain for your 40D!"

Your 40D!

By 5 pm that day, I was the proud owner of my 40D!
Naturally, I couldn't wait to try out my new camera. Early Saturday morning off we went to Eaton Canyon in Pasadena. With a new "investment" we decided to scrimp on gasoline and to altogether bypass the traditional breakfast at McDonalds.

The morning was cool and sunny. We were hoping to see the Oriole reported seen here the day before, but we were not so lucky with that. What we had were the usual avian residents of the canyon. There is a spot just a bit north of the Nature Center that has a few picnic tables under the shade of a huge oak tree. Cynthia had gone off chasing a calling Wrentit. I was about to follow when from out of the bushes darted a California Thrasher. It must be terribly hungry because in its foraging for food it came to about 3 feet from where I was standing. I froze like a winter snowman lest I scare the poor bird and deprive it of a well deserved breakfast. 

Eventually the bird moved on and in my excitement my shots of it were only passable (it was dark under the oak tree). As if that was not enough, soon a California Towhee approached, White-crowned Sparrows suddenly congregated under the picnic tables while Dark-eyed Juncos played on top of the tables. A Hermit Thrush went hopping by while Fox Sparrows made a brief appearance.

But it was the Wrens that probably made our day. The House Wrens were zitting as they staked their territories on the tree branches.

The Bewick's Wrens on the other hand were in the bushes bursting forth with their own serenades.

The Wrentits were always a tease, as they skulked in the dense vegetation sometimes just inches from where we were.

At the end of the day while viewing my photographs, I realized that I still need to adjust to the capabilities of the 40D. Most of my shots were still so-so. Maybe I have to read the instruction manual first? 

Creepers, I struck out!

On December 28th, my wife and I visited Bonelli Regional Park in San Dimas for yet another attempt at seeing the Bald Eagle. Suffice it to say that even after almost four hours of enduring cold weather conditions we completely bombed out. For the third time we missed our target. Either it really didn't show up or we were just misinformed and were looking at the wrong place. For me that was quite a painful, traumatic experience. Not because we dipped since we have been unsuccessful in our bird chases before, but rather because of the seemingly heartlessness of some fellow birders. I emailed somebody who is a frequent visitor at Bonelli and who has seen the eagle on more than one occasion to ask for specific directions on the whereabouts of the famed raptor, but I never even got the courtesy of a reply. Then there was an acquaintance who, although indirectly, would make you feel stupid by telling everybody on the internet how it was such a no-brainer to locate the Bald Eagle. By and large, most birders that we have met on our trips were courteous and helpful and would even go out of their way to assist in locating a target bird. It 's just so sad that there are some rotten apples in the basket.

Forgive me for venting, but I needed to get that out of my chest.

Anyway, the day was not a total disaster because as we were leaving, we were treated to some very close-up views of a Bewick's Wren and then of a pair(!) of Brown Creepers working on the same tree.




As a final touch, a Coyote insouciantly sauntered into our direction, gave us a casual glance, and passed not more than twenty feet away from us.



And oh, we will still get a Bald Eagle in our lifelist, maybe not from Bonelli, but by golly, we sure will.

Bewick's, Bothered and Bewildered

Maybe I had such high expectations or maybe I just wasn't thinking logically when I made a decision to visit Placerita Canyon yesterday. Fall migration was in full swing and I just thought that the canyon would host the usual number of warblers and vireos. I could not have been more wrong! The place was almost completely birdless! Normally, just at the parking lot, we would see Sparrows, Kinglets, Mourning Doves and Starlings. None of these birds were present that Saturday.

We moved on to the picnic area, another place that is usually swarming with birds, but other than a single Oak Titmouse, it was very quiet.

At the trails, a few Towhees played hide and seek with us. Near the bench, where we had Lazuli Buntings and several warblers in our earlier visits, a lone Wilson's Warbler foraged among the leaves high up an oak tree.

After more than two hours of birding, we still have not taken a single shot of any bird at all. My wife, seeing the bewildered look on my face, suggested we go to Eaton Canyon in Pasadena. I agreed, half-expecting to encounter tons of people walking their dogs as was the usual case there on a Saturday morning. To our surprise, there were only a handful of human beings and zero canines at all! But then our birding miseries continued as I only had acceptable photos of a forlorn California Towhee and a cooperative Bewick's Wren. Cynthia remained scoreless even up until the time we had to leave for lunch.

That night as I was reading the various birding listservs in Yahoo where some rare birds were seen, I can't find a really good reason why I chose going to Placerita Canyon instead of going to Malibu lagoon to "twitch" for the Yellow Wagtail or even to the Laguna Tams in Ventura where a Blackburnian Warbler was found. Perhaps I was bothered by the imminence of soon losing my job and made me consider not spending much on gasoline and therefore choosing a location much closer to home.

I don't feel bad a lot of times but this time "I'm wild again, beguiled again, a simpering, whimpering child again..."

It's Too Darn Hot!

Prologue:

We were having a heat wave in Southern California. The temperature has been soaring into 3 digits for the past week or so. Mind you California heat is not humid where you sweat a lot, but rather dry and piercing that it literally hurts the skin.  It will be the same weather condition this weekend said the all-knowing weatherperson. To bird or not to bird?..that was now the question. First, a little story:

Birder's Wife: Darling, would you please take out the trash.

Birder Husband: What? Don't you know how hot it is out there? Why you could even fry an egg on the sidewalk!

A few minutes later...

Birder's Wife: Honey, look, the newspaper says they just saw a Lesser Roadrunner near Death Valley!

Birder Husband: So what are you standing there for? Get dressed and let's go! Oh, hand me the trash, I'll throw it before we get into the car.

Birders are not ordinary people. They will cross the burning desert, climb the highest mountain, sail the seven seas just for a glimpse of some feathered creature. And thus plans were prepared for a birding foray this Saturday – heat wave be darned.

Part I. A Walk With Butterflies.

Our plan was to go to Malibu Lagoon, 22 acres of marsh and tidewater pools close to the famous Malibu Beach, playground of dudes and dudettes. Along the way was Malibu Creek State Park, a bit of wilderness amidst the Santa Monica mountains a thousand feet above the Malibu coast. We decided to pass by this patch of forest and see what it had to offer, bird-wise. We arrived early, a little before 8 am, and walked along a trail with the creek to which the place was named for on one side, and a meadow-like slope, dotted with a few trees and bushes on the other side. What made this scene even more beautiful was the proliferation of butterflies - different kinds from the yellow tiger swallowtail, to the tiny white cabbage butterfly. They would criss-cross our paths, or occasionally accompany us part of the way. Their presence punctuated our countless stopovers and provided an exhiliration that lessened the scorching effect of the unforgiving sun.

The first bird we saw was a wren that was not unlike a moth-eaten piece of rag. It was dust-bathing in the sunlight apparently to rid itself of some feather-eating bug or heaven-knows-what. 

Bewick's Wren

Then there was an explosion of phainopeplas. Phainopeplas - the name means "silky robe" and conjures up images of some exotic, brilliantly colored, epitome of God's creation in the avian genera. Actually it is a medium-sized (about 8 inches) black (male) or brown (female) bird with reddish eyes and a crest. It's song is a trill somewhat akin to a police whistle. This bird was not new to us but here at Malibu Creek, they're just everywhere! Needless to say, I got some good photos of this species. At some point on the trail we were on a higher level than the creek alongside, so much so that we were almost eye level with the top of the trees that grew along its banks. 

I was trying to get some pictures of yet another group of phainopeplas when Cynthia shouted, "woodpweker!". As you might have learned by now, whenever she gets excited at seeing a new bird she baptizes the poor thing with a new albeit funny name. And so I added an Acorn Woodpecker to my list of birds photographed that day. The crowning glory of our visit to Malibu Creek was - at last! - a decent picture of the Blue Grosbeak (yes, it's that bird again), a male and a female to boot!

At about 10:30 am, we came upon a sight that would break any birder's heart - a group of noisy (and loud) picnickers (including not a few overweight women in bathing suits!) Bear in mind, this was a creek that we have here, that is so shallow even a tiny bird will not drown in it.  Maybe these ladies know something we don't? hmmm. Not desiring to witness what could be a miracle in the making, we decided to pack up and head for our original destination - Malibu Lagoon.

Part II - Highway Ride

PCH, which stands for Pacific Coast Highway is a stretch of road that runs through California and at various instances comes close to the Pacific ocean.

As I mentioned in Part I, our original destination for this day was the Malibu Lagoon which is right by PCH. We were stunned when we arrived there. The parking lot was full and the place was teeming with people! We should have known better not to go to a beach on a sweltering weekend. 

We vented our somewhat dashed  enthusiasm over a footlong cheesesteak sandwich at Subway. We resolved not to let this little setback ruin our birding day. There is still Bolsa Chica which was also along PCH but unaffected by the throng of beach-going heliophiles. Now in going to Bolsa Chica from Malibu, we had to pass thru various cities in the southern part of the Los Angeles megalopolis. Note: PCH is not a freeway and on certain spots becomes a normal thoroughfare complete with traffic lights and all the denizens that come with an urban street.

And so with this in mind, we began our trek of the 50-odd miles to our new destination.  Cruising PCH we passed by some affluent neighborhoods where a condo would cost anywhere between $600,000 to a million and then just a block away the scenery would change so abruptly and we would see squalor and very palpable poverty. There were cities where it seemed that we were in a Mexican town complete with billboards and signs in Spanish and not a single Caucasian in sight, whether in cars or on the streets. As we passed by Long Beach, Cynthia saw Ken Malloy Regional Park (a supposedly good birding area) but when I was about to pull over I noticed that the people using the park at the time were the kind that I wouldn't want to be seen toting $3,000 worth of photographic equipment even in broad daylight e.g. half-naked tattooed men basking in the sun (and they were not even close to the beach!)

About an hour-and-a-half later, we saw the familiar sights of Bolsa Chica. Inasmuch as it was already past noon, we took a break and had a sandwich and a shake at Jack in the Box. Being the only fast food restaurant nearby. There is also a public beach in Bolsa Chica but PCH separates it from the Ecological Reserve thus sparing the nature area from the beachcombers and the traffic.

The place was packed. Once again satiated with food, we proceeded to bird Bolsa Chica. If Malibu Creek had its phainopeplas, Bolsa Chica had its terns. Everywhere you turn, there were terns. It wasn't very productive photography-wise because terns do nothing but fly it seems like, and the peeps (a generic term for those shorebirds that appear to all look alike even if they belong to a dozen species or so) were all so far to be photographed even by my 300mm lens.

We called it a day at around 4 pm. It turned out not to be too hot after all - Malibu Creek had some tall trees which offered shade and a cool soft wind every now and then, and then Bolsa Chica of course had its ocean breezes to give relief from the unshaded glow of the afternoon sun.