Birding with a two-year-old in San Francisco

I scan the ochre-colored sandy path closely as Paul and I walk beside the canal, he sometimes riding, sometimes pushing his tricycle. I’m intrigued by the houseboats lining the canal. Who lives in them? What are their lives like? I’ve been fascinated with houseboats ever since having a childhood friend who had lived for a time on a houseboat. The path is lined with pines and other trees I can’t identify– the flora here in California is so different from that of the Northeast. There are birds, many species new to me, in these trees, and I have binoculars in my pocket.

The binoculars remain in my pocket, though, and I barely glance at the birds, much as I am drawn to them. I continue to closely watch the path ahead, making sure my active grandson doesn’t step in the wrong place anywhere along the path. There’s actually surprisingly little dog waste given the tremendous number and fascinating variety of dogs to be seen anywhere one goes around here– from tiny Chihuahuas to towering Great Danes, from a diminutive nine-week-old Shiba Inu that looks like a bright-eyed teddy bear to two lumbering Newfoundlands who look like real bears. The vast majority of dogs here are social and well-behaved, and I’m guessing that the vast majority of dog owners are considerate and responsible about cleaning up.

Apparently not everyone takes advantage of the conveniently placed poop clean-up bag dispensers and attached garbage cans, though. What I’m most concerned about Paul stepping in is human waste. I know from an earlier walk with Paul that there is some along this path, thankfully covered with a little paper, but obviously something to keep my quicksilver grandson from inadvertently running in. I also want to be sure Paul doesn’t jump on the navy blue sleeping bag, unzipped and spread out right beside the path, that I’m pretty sure is sheltering a sleeping person. That would be an unwelcome surprise and rude awakening for the sleeper.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I see a movement above me and I look up and see a very small, fairly nondescript, drab-colored bird fly from the pine branches above me as another alights in the same low branches, then immediately disappears! I glance ahead along the path, then tell Paul there’s a bird in the tree even though I can’t see it. I’ve been teaching him some basic bird species and he’s been quite interested, though he’s generally ready to move on pretty quickly. The branches are low and not particularly dense. Where could the bird have gone?

The binoculars still heavy in my pocket, I glance back and forth from Paul to the branches overhead. And then I see it: a beautifully fashioned, perfectly camouflaged, narrow tube-shaped nest with a small opening near the top, hanging from one of the branches, partially obscured by the needles of another branch. It appears to be made of moss, the same color as the surrounding pine needles. I never would have noticed it if I hadn’t been alerted by the quick movement of the parent birds.

At that moment Paul spots a rock on the path a little way ahead– round and white with small black speckles, about the size of his fist. Running to it in delight, he picks up the rock, looks at it closely, then adds it to the treasures he’s already collected in the compartment on the back of his tricycle, and we continue on our way.

The next day, my last before returning home, I once again take Paul out on his tricycle for a walk along the canal, hoping to look more closely at the hanging moss nest and the birds whose home it is. We don’t get any farther than the sleeping bag that’s still beside the path, however, because just at that spot, without any warning, Paul’s tricycle suddenly collapses and falls apart into three separate pieces! Thankfully he’s been walking, not riding the tricycle, so though startled, he’s not hurt.

As quickly as I can, which isn’t very quick due to my lack of tricycle assembly experience, I reassemble the tricycle, only to have it immediately collapse once more in a heap in the sandy path. All the while Paul is providing shrill two-year-old commentary, and soon the sleeping bag stirs, revealing a sleepy older woman’s face. I apologize for disturbing her rest and tell her we’ll be on our way as soon as possible. After a short time that seems long, probably to all three of us, I finally get the tricycle precariously assembled and we head home where Nathaniel will do what dads do– repair broken toys.

I never do get back to see the hanging moss nest, but I have a clear enough memory of it and the birds to look them up and identify them as Bushtits– a new species to add to my life list of birds I’ve identified! I also have memories of a delighted boy holding a round white rock with small black speckles, a tricycle collapsing into pieces on a sandy path beside house boats, and a sleepy older woman patiently watching a baffled young boy trying loudly to grasp what had just happened to his hitherto unquestionably reliable tricycle.

Birding in a city neighborhood with a curious two-year old is nothing like strolling quietly, binoculars in hand, through the dense woods and open fields I’m accustomed to, but it, too, is rich with moments of delight and wonder.

“Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round and pluck blackberries.”
Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Paul delighting in life and the outdoors
Collapsed tricycle!

Crows and Peregrine Falcon!

Yesterday evening Stephen and I joined some other birders to watch Crows coming in to their Poughkeepsie roost. What an awesome sight, to see thousands upon thousands of Crows converging from all points of the compass! I had often seen the Crows roosting in immense numbers in the trees as I drove down route 9 through Poughkeepsie, but I’d never seen them gathering and staging in the evening. It was an amazing sight, and someone there said her grandmother had watched them coming in fifty years ago, so this area has been an established roost for decades, at least. 
 
At one point I looked north across the Mid-Hudson Bridge and saw what looked like a river of Crows flowing from farther up and across the river, bending and flowing, I’m assuming with air currents. In the distance it just looked like a narrow strip of pepper, with the specks gradually becoming larger and clearer as they drew closer, until they were right over us. They congregated in several areas, cawing and flying about and landing on the ground and in trees, staging in small or large groups that would move from time to time, before they finally headed to their night roost. There were an estimated 15,000 to 20,000 Crows altogether!
 
Then we heard a sudden, loud cawing and saw a peregrine Falcon flying over the trees where many Crows were roosting. The Crows rose with a tremendous fluttering and cawing, the Falcon fluttered his pointed wings very fast overhead, then suddenly stooped (dove) fast, knocking a Crow out of the air! He didn’t end up with that Crow, but I suspect he caught one soon after, when we again saw him stoop into the Crows and disappear behind some buildings. We didn’t see him again, so I’m guessing he was happily eating Crow.
Crows converging to Poughkeepsie roost

More Sketches from Acadia National Park

Back home now (I got home a week ago), I am still putting finishing touches on some paintings, as well as getting back into the routine of life at home. Actually, I should say that I am working on developing a new routine for life at home. During my time away I had lots of time to think and evaluate how I do things on a daily basis, and I realized that, much as I have valued quiet time and solitude, I haven’t done a great job of consistently living with a peaceful rhythm to my days. Somehow the demands of life in an overly connected world, along with the alluring draw of the internet have resulted in a feeling of being scattered and constantly available and pulled in several directions at once. While at Acadia National Park, I had no cell signal (what a blessing!) and, as a result, I found that I was more focused in a relaxed way that caused me to be much more “present” with myself and my environment. So now I am working on incorporating some of the lessons I learned, so that I can live with a peaceful rhythm even as I am connected and involved with the world and people around me. I haven’t gotten it all figured out yet, but I am hoping to make progress.

Here are some of my sketches from my time away. I have still more that I will post sketches in another few days. I’ve also posted some of my finished watercolors on my website (Melissa Fischer’s Art ). If you click on the images, you’ll be able to see them large enough to read my notes.)

Gannets diving
Maine coast rocks

Otter sketches

Red-headed Woodpecker

A couple of weeks ago Stephen and I had the tremendous privilege of a brief morning visit by a Red-headed Woodpecker! I was looking out the kitchen window and I saw a woodpecker on the far side of one of our hanging feeders. All I could see was the lower part of the bird’s belly, a bit of tail where it was pressed against the bottom of the feeder, and a very faint glimpse of red, before he (or she) moved his head behind the feeder. But something about the amount of white I saw and something about the shade of red, even in the very dim morning light, caught my attention. I grabbed my binoculars and hoped the bird would show more of himself before flying away… And he did… A Red-headed Woodpecker! A first for both Stephen’s and my life lists and a first for our yard.

Red-headed Woodpecker
Red-headed Woodpecker

 

Pine Siskin

In the winter the Goldfinches mob our feeders, devouring nyjer seeds and sunflower hearts, often outnumbering all the other birds on the deck. Sometimes when we look out, we see birds that look like Goldfinches but not quite. When I look more closely I see streaks where Goldfinches have clear breasts and backs, and I see a hint of bright yellow in the wings. Pine Siskins– closely related to Goldfinches but only here in winter, and not every winter at that.

Click on the photo to see it large enough to read more information.

Pine Siskin

 

Gyrfalcon!

Area birders have been flocking to Wallkill for the past ten days, hoping for a glimpse of a rare visitor to New York– a Gyrfalcon, normally only seen in the Arctic. Stephen and I went yesterday and were privileged to see, photograph, and sketch this new bird for us, along with many other enthusiastic birders.
You can click on the images to see them big enough to read my notes about our visit to this bird and facts about Gyrfalcons in general.
Gyrfalcon in Wallkill

I did quick sketches in the field, then added to them later from Stephen’s photos.

Wallkill Gyrfalcon

 

Common Redpoll

Yesterday I saw a Common Redpoll at our feeders, a bird I’ve been watching for for several weeks now. We haven’t seen them often, but a bit over two years ago we had several here over a period of a few days. People in the Waterman Bird Club have been watching for them, and yesterday several of us all had them visiting our feeders for the first time this year. It must be their week to arrive in Dutchess County.

Redpolls live in the arctic and only migrate south irregularly. They are well adapted for cold weather and even tunnel into the snow to stay warm! The bird yesterday was only here briefly, but when we had our Redpoll visitors two years ago, they stuck around long enough for me to sketch them.

You can click on the images to see them large enough to read the notes.

 

 

Nesting Birds and Morels

I had a delightful and peaceful afternoon today meandering in our woods and sitting on a bridge dangling my feet in our stream, all the time watching bird families. A pair of Hairy Woodpeckers were feeding their young in a nest cavity in a tree, up about 35 feet from the ground. The youngsters would squawk loudly when a parent arrived and for a little while after the parent departed, then quiet down until a parent appeared again. I think one of the young may have left the nest while another stayed behind, because I saw what appeared to be a juvenile male squawking on a branch nearby after leaving the nest cavity, while another was still being fed in the nest.

While I was watching the Hairy Woodpeckers, a raucous family of House Wrens were perching and fluttering nearby– at least four young and one parents were clustered in a shrub and adjoining stump, while the other parents called and occasionally scolded a few yards away. The young wrens were tiny– they looked about the size of golf balls, with two clinging to one stump and two others fluttering in a bush right next to the stump.

I turned around from watching the Hairy Woodpeckers to see a male Bluebird perched in a tree looking toward a stump with a hole in it. I stood still watching, and after a while I saw a female bluebird go into the hole, which is about eight feet above the ground. I saw the female leaving the stump and sitting on a branch nearby a couple of times, but I never saw the male enter the nest.

While I was watching the Bluebirds, a family a Carolina Wrens flew, perched, flew, perched, and flew again– at least two young and two parents. They gradually worked their way across my field of view and over the stream, then out of sight behind shrubs. They seemed to be making more progress, or at least were covering more ground, than the House Wrens. It seems that today was Leave-the-Nest-Day for wrens on our land.

I also found two morels on our land today. Both were growing beside fairly small (4″-6″ diameter dead trees) in grassy, leafy patches. They made a delicious addition to our dinner!

 

American Avocets!

After watching the
wind whip up the river and a cloudburst obscure the downriver view for a
while,  Stephen and I were strolling along the Newburgh waterfront on August 7th, when I stopped
to sketch a friendly duck, who was following people along the sidewalk.
While I was sketching her, Stephen asked me what some birds were down
by the water’s edge. I turned to see two striking black and white birds of a kind I had never seen before perched on rocks on the river’s edge.

The name “Avocet” immediately came to mind, but having never seen an Avocet or even a suspicion of one, I really wasn’t familiar with them. I did a couple of quick sketches,
along with some notes to help with identification, then ran to the car where I keep a
field guide and checked– they were indeed American Avocets! We went back to watch them
for a few more minutes, until they flew off low over the water, headed
down river, in the direction of Beacon or Cold Spring.

The American Avocet is not typically seen this far north along the east coast, so this is considered a rare bird sighting for our area, all the more special for us, as we were out on a dinner date for our anniversary. American Avocet Species Range Map