Same Ol' and Surprise Encounters

The last few days of our stay in California were spent birding familiar places. Birding areas that were close to where we used to live such as Veteran's Memorial County Park in Sylmar where we got some nice looks at the Chipping Sparrow and White-breasted Nuthatch.

Eaton Canyon in Pasadena was the place closest to home and despite harboring a great number of visiting Homo sapiens, was still birdy enough to produce California Quail, the always skulking Fox Sparrow, the winter resident Golden-crowned Sparrow and another winter visitor, albeit uncommon, the Pacific Slope Flycatcher.

Finally, Legg Lake in South El Monte, another park where humanity congregates, also had White Pelicans, Great Blue Herons and Ring-billed Gulls inhabiting its three lakes.

The surprise came after we had our lunch at Waba Grill. As we were driving out under a drizzle, I caught a glimpse of a small brown bird hawking for insects by the wire fence. I asked Kurt to stop and for the next half hour or so tried to photograph the skittish Say's Phoebe. As fitting finale, rain started to fall and a Common Raven dropped by and perched on the same fence where the Phoebe was and protested the cold downpour.

Tales from the Pit - Episode 2 - Heron There

Peck's Pit - a name that stirs the imagination. Images of a dark, cavernous place fraught with creatures that defy description are conjured by the mere mention of that name: Peck's Pit.

In reality, it is a park-like area where picnic tables stand over lawn-like grass and shaded by oaks and sycamores. Then there's the lake where fishermen cast their poles with the hope of catching some catfish. It is also a favorite haunt of birders, particularly of late, when some unusual birds were spotted there.

And so, self-respecting birder that I am, visited this birdy place with a strange name a few times trying my luck at finding those unusual birds. There were times I got lucky - seeing both Blackpoll and Lucy's Warblers (see my previous blog) - but more frequently, I wasn't. Although I missed out on the rarer kind, the local bird population, most especially the herons, have been quite cooperative.

One fine day as I was scanning the tiny strip of land in the middle of the lake for a possible Solitary Sandpiper (yes, that single bird bane of my life) and once again dipping badly, a Great Blue Heron suddenly gave a loud squawk and flew towards my side. With the agility of a hungry leopard, I lifted my camera and captured the flight of the huge wader.


A couple of days later, at the north end of the lake, while searching for a Northern Waterthrush (and again failing miserably) I saw a Black-crowned Night Heron knee-deep in green duckweed water. Actually herons don't have knees but I'm just trying to anthrophomorphize the scene I was witnessing.

A short distance from it, a Green Heron, hating to get its feet wet, perched on some branch jutting from the greenish puddle.

Getting pictures of three herons there on the pit is quite a feat and I was happy I picked a place like Peck's.



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Going Cuckoo

I needed to go birding Saturday morning. Staying at the office until 8:30 on Friday night wasn't the way I wanted to end the week. I needed the cathartic effect of seeing winged creatures enjoying their God-given freedom.

We uncostumarily woke up late (was I that tired?) but that didn't deter us from accomplishing my mission. Off to the San Joaquin Wildlife Sanctuary (SJWS) in Irvine we went. For the past two days, there were reports that a Yellow-billed Cuckoo was seen in its premises. Adding a lifer to my list would certainly be a soothing balm to yesterday's frayed nerves. We surveyed the areas surrounding the several ponds where the rufous-winged brown bird was reportedly seen. At one point, a Tree Swallow eyed us warily as we came unintentionally close to its nest box. Further on, a young Great Blue Heron was unmindful even as we were taking its picture from about 5 feet away. Suddenly, I saw a brown bird with a longish tail fly quickly from one tree to another!

"There it is!" I yelled to Cynthia. We both scanned each and every branch of the tree where it landed, mentally turning over each leaf, searching for our elusive quarry. Certain birds have this uncanny ability to become invisible right under your nose. Despite our diligent efforts and my wife's bionic ears, the Cuckoo, if it was indeed that bird, was never found again. Was I sure it was the Yellow-billed Cuckoo? A GISS (general impression of size and shape) would make it so. But I'm not an expert birder by any stretch of imagination so, reluctantly, this bird will not make it to my lifelist...yet.

The sun was at its apex and the temperature was in the high 90's. It was time to return to the more mundane activity of satisfying our growling stomachs.

Credit my wife for her perfect intuition. After lunch, she suggested we try birding Upper Newport Bay and Bolsa Chica knowing this would somehow alleviate the disappointment of the missed Cuckoo sighting. 

Upper Newport Bay was uncharacteristically quiet although it afforded us some views of Black Skimmers doing their thing. Skimmers are quaint seabirds in that their upper beak is shorter than the lower beak. The reason for this, is that its method of feeding is to dip the lower beak in the water while skimming the surface of the body of water (thus the name Skimmer). When the lower beak hits an object (hopefully, a fish), then the Skimmer would close its beak and swallow the prey. After the Skimmers moved on to better fishing grounds, we saw some raptors flying overhead. First there were two, then three, then finally four birds were wheeling and playing up against the blue skies. Again, the GISS says they were falcons. But these were bigger than Kestrels. And they were brown, whereas Merlins are gray. Their identity was a puzzle (did I mention I was not an expert birder?) until I looked at the blown up pictures at home. Peregrines! Not one but four Peregrines! Although not a lifer, these are such magnificent creatures that seeing them would be like laying eyes on the legendary Phoenix.

Bolsa Chica, likewise, was pretty quiet. Luckily, we were again rewarded with witnessing the strange fishing techniques of a Black Skimmer. Terns were all over the place, so we got the chance to practice our BIF shots.

Reminiscing later at home, I was just thankful that even though I did not see the Yellow-billed Cuckoo, the adventure in and of itself relieved me of going cuckoo over Friday's draining work.

Chasing Egrets

Reddish Egrets, to be precise.  The birding community was abuzz with sightings of Reddish Egrets (Egretta rufescens) at the Bolsa Chica Ecological Reserve in Huntington Beach. It will be a lifer for my wife, Cynthia, and myself, so we decided to go Saturday morning, July 30th. It has been said that the egrets only appear when the tide is low. The tide will be at its lowest, so we read, around noontime.

We intended to park at the Warner Avenue area but we were stopped by volunteers who were getting ready to clean-up the general area. We parked at the main parking area at PCH instead. Most of the people we met were already leaving, somewhat disappointed that they have not seen the now famous Reddish Egrets. Undaunted, we hiked the trail all the way up to the bluffs beyond the tidal gate, following a group of photographers lugging their humongous lenses. Along the way, another photographer pointed us to a very cooperative Great Blue Heron. 

And then not too far from it, another cooperative bird, this time a Black-crowned Night Heron, allowed me to take some close-up pictures.

On the bluff midway between the tidal gate and Warner Ave, the photographers with the big lenses set up their gear and watched and waited for the egret to arrive. We watched and waited with them, taking pictures of the other denizens of the lagoon below. There were Black-bellied Plovers, Western and Least Sandpipers, Long-billed Curlews, Marbled Godwits, Willets, Long-billed Dowitchers and various peeps all congregating on the bountiful mud flats that surfaced as the water slowly ebbed.

Noontime came and still no sign of the elusive bird. Our stomachs were starting to grumble so we reluctantly left the bluffs and went back to the boardwalk one more time to check out if the Egrets somehow managed to get there without being seen by the people at the bluffs. Not seeing any sign of them and with hearts sinking, we drove off into PCH to look for a place to eat. Glancing to my right as we drove along, I thought I saw a somewhat dark egret in the middle of the lagoon. Must be hunger, I thought to myself, that gave me these visions. As we turned right to Warner, I noticed that the parking lot there had now been opened and the volunteer cleaners had started to leave. I told Cynthia to give our search for the Reddish Egret one more try. To my delight, she agreed. After parking the car, I scoped the area where I thought I saw the egret and although the distance was quite great, I was now convinced that it was actually there. I looked up the bluff and saw the photographers (yes, they were still there) training their lenses towards the bird that I saw. I literally sprinted the half-mile distance (at least that's how it seemed to me) to the top of the bluff. Gasping for breath, I looked down, and there in all its beauty was the Reddish Egret, frolicking and gamboling in the lagoon, doing its quaint little dance, doing pirouettes, half-flying in the air, darting to catch a tiny fish in the shallow waters. We watched this avian ballet for about an hour and then, as if on cue, the prima ballerina exited stage left, leaving its audience awe-struck. We almost applauded and shouted Bravo and Encore! But it went on to another location for what we presume to be another sterling performance with another audience whose hearts would be enraptured by the dazzling dance of this divine diva of Bolsa Chica!

We left the place very happy and all the excitement seemed to have diminished our hunger that we even had our lunch at West Covina - a good half hour away.