Studying and Negligence Thereof

Chem is done at last
Spanish notes in the garbage
But what about migrants?

Summer: Sewage, Shorebirds...

Pumping my legs furiously, I crest the hill. Underpasses are short but steep; my quads tingle as I crank into higher gear and lazily peddle onward. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I lean back and stop peddling, allowing momentum to carry the bike forward. I lift up my jersey to feel the cool breeze on my bare chest. Ahhhh—it’s a perfect summer morning: warm, but not uncomfortably so, the sun already high in a completely clear sky.

It would be beautiful, except for the setting.

I glance to my right and behold the mighty San Diego Creek. Creek is a misnomer; it is a large concrete ditch with a trickle of trash (and maybe a bit of water) fermenting in the bottom. Plastic bottles, shopping carts, and algae mats top the menu. The only sign of life is a band of ragged Mallards sifting through the goo. Two dead ones fester in a puddle nearby. I pause and stare at the puddle. I can’t decide whether it’s green or black.

Not only is it an eyesore; this lovely stew smells exactly the way you would imagine it to.

I’ve become accustomed to the sight, smell, and taste of the creek. In fact, I’ve embraced it as a worthy birding spot. Hooded Mergansers often winter in this particular puddle, and migrant shorebirds sometimes stop on the radioactive heaps of slime.

Shorebirds! It’s July, a supposedly boring time of year to go birding. The breeders have been around long enough to become wearisome, and nothing is migrating. Well…not actually. Shorebirds begin sneaking south by mid-June, and by early July the beaches and mudflats swarm with them. They’re not pristine juveniles; the worn adults dominate the scene until mid-August. Still, I enjoy sorting through the battered adults. Each one is unique. This Willet has replaced most of the feathers on the breast, and that one has retained extensive barring…

My ponderings are broken when a tiny sandpiper bursts from a pool of sludge. Breeep? It asks as it careens down the creek. Least Sandpiper! As I watch it disappear down the channel, I try to imagine it on the tundra. Boasting crisp alternate plumage, perhaps it strutted beside an ice-choked pond in hopes of attracting the perfect female. Perhaps it frantically scolded and fluttered by its nest, attemping to distract a lumbering caribou, or polar bear, or shorebird researcher…

But now it’s puttering around a pathetic ditch in the heart of Orange County.

It’s summer. It’s shorebird season.

Welcome to the Hotel....Pennsylvania?!

Henslow’s Sparrow, Mourning Warbler, Pileated Woodpecker, White-eyed Vireo. Do I have your attention yet? I saw all these birds and many more on my trip back east last week. Where, exactly? Some famous hotspot, surely.

Well, not exactly--the Holiday Inn Express in Grove City, Pennsylvania. Huh?

I always manage to transform "nonbirding" trips into birding trips. It has become tradition to strike out on foot from the hotel and see what birds are around. I’ve marauded around hotel parking lots in New Mexico, Illinois, Ohio, Tennessee, California, and just about everywhere else in the United States. None of my previous hotel experiences, however, can compare to the Holiday Inn Express in Grove City.

My eldest brother’s graduation and subsequent wedding were the reasons for the trip. I was too insignificant to matter much in the wedding preparations, so I found myself with loads of free time on my hands. My options were either to watch television in the room or go birding around the hotel.

What kind of choice is that?

In the few days my family was in Grove City, I put in over twenty-five miles of walking from the hotel. The schedule went something like this: roll out of bed at five-thirty. Grab backpack. Lace boots. Scramble down the stairs, swipe an oatmeal muffin and a slab of jelly toast from the breakfast bar, and head out the door. Then, for the next few hours, stroll down quiet country lanes (with only the occasional Amish buggy or oversized tractor threatening to squash me) looking for birds.

Oh, Highway 208 isn’t really a quiet country lane, but once I got off the main road I was plunged into almost complete solitude.

The quality of the birding was astonishing thanks to the broad suite of habitats within a few miles of the hotel. Many of the highlights of eastern birding came flooding back to me as I explored those back roads-—the snore of a Blue-winged Warbler, a male Blackburnian Warbler flashing through an oak overhead, the melodious jumbled song of a Bobolink sailing over a green pasture…

Instead of rambling on with a dry trip report, I'll let the photos do the narrating.



Blackburnian Warbler



American Redstart



Warbling Vireo



Tree Swallow



Prothonotary Warbler--all right, I'll admit it: this actually wasn't from Grove City. I made a brief stop at Crane Creek in Ohio mid-week. The birding was mediocre, but I enjoyed stellar looks at this male Prothonotary Warbler hopping within feet of the boardwalk.



Gray Catbird--the area around the hotel was crawling with catbirds. Brushy areas abounded, and there seemed to be a catbird every fifty feet or so.



Northern Parula



Scarlet Tanager



Red-eyed Vireo



Green Heron



Bobolink



Baltimore Oriole



American Robins--surely one of the most common and familiar species in North America. Sadly, they aren't as common in California as they are in Pennsylvania. I would see hundreds in a few miles of walking.



Spotted Sandpiper nest--I was tromping around in a grassy area near a small lake when I flushed an adult sitting on the nest.

Migration

Much to my chagrin, I haven't been able to get out birding much recently. To remedy this I biked to Santiago Oaks Regional Park today and spent the entire morning wandering around and searching for birds, particularly migrants. I haven't biked anywhere recently for various reasons, so I expected to pick up a few new Bigby birds. Within a minute of dismounting my bike I had found three new Bigby birds: Black-headed Grosbeak, Black-throated Gray Warbler, and Warbling Vireo.

Birds were out and singing everywhere despite the cloudy skies and cool temperatures. Many of the wintering species such as Ruby-crowned Kinglets, Hermit Thrushes, and White-crowned Sparrows are beginning to fade away. They are quickly being replaced by breeders and migrants. A bit farther down the trail I found a Hammond's Flycatcher and an Ash-throated Flycatcher sitting in the same tree. Both were new for my Bigby list.

Normally, I bird Santiago Oaks for only a couple hours before school in the morning. However, I had several hours to burn, so I covered most of the park. I traipsed out to the Villa Park Dam and easily located a singing Rock Wren. He serenaded me from the top of a fence while I stalked closer. It will be interesting to see if Rock Wrens try to breed here. This little patch of jumbled rock is one of the few places to reliably find this species in the county.



Hundreds of swallows were swirling around by the dam. At first they all appeared to be Cliff Swallows, but I noticed there were a lot of Northern Rough-winged Swallows mixed in as well. Even more careful inspection revealed smaller numbers of Violet-green, Tree, and Barn Swallows merrily zipping around feeding on insects. I finally tore myself away from the cooperative Rock Wren and swallows and turned back to the main part of the park. I found my last new Bigby bird of the day, a Nashville Warbler, back near the parking lot. I also came across a very cooperative Sara Orangetip.



I decided to climb the Pacifica Trail, a steep narrow path that winds to the top of Rattlesnake Peak. I don't usually see much along this trail, but it's a neat hike and I figured it might be a good spot to look for Lawrence's Goldfinch. No luck with that, but I did come across a band of Western Scrub-Jays jumping around in the bushes next to the trail.



I finally made it to the top. Numerous White-throated Swifts, which were tiny specks in the sky from below, zoomed around at eye level. In fact, bands of these winged bullets, chattering demonically, nearly hit me a few times. They were so close I could hear the wind rushing through their wings. Photographing them proved to be a challenge!



A Red-tailed Hawk circled lazily below, offering a unique perspective.



I spent a few more minutes watching the swifts before descending the trail so as not to be late for lunch. For a few hours at the local patch, it wasn't bad at all. The six new Bigby birds I found (Hammond's Flycatcher, Ash-throated Flycatcher, Warbling Vireo, Nasvhille Warbler, Black-throated Gray Warbler, and Black-headed Grosbeak) pushed my total to one eighty-four. Hopefully I'll be able to get out more soon to add more migrants to my Bigby list.

Stealth Migrants

Years ago, as a fledgling birder, I assumed that May and September were just about the only times to see migrating birds. Sure, I vaguely knew about the migrant shorebirds in the summer, but I didn't fully appreciate that different birds are migrating year round. Even so, it is amazingly easy to miss the first few waves of migrants in the summer.

All birders (at least, I hope so) know that shorebirds migrate in the summer, when little else is happening in the birding world. Many birders do not realize precisely how early many of these shorebirds arrive; often, by June twentieth, the first fall migrants such as Long-billed Dowitchers, Greater Yellowlegs, and Least Sandpipers begin to arrive.



The migrants that really slip through unnoticed, however, are the early migrating passerines. Many of these are birds that also breed locally, such as Pacific-slope Flycatcher, Orange-crowned Warbler, Yellow Warbler, Black-headed Grosbeak, and Bullock's Oriole. In late July, I began noticing more Black-headed Grosbeaks around the neighborhood than usual. A pair or two probably bred somewhere in the immediate area, so I didn't think too much of it. Then, on July 26th, I found nearly half a dozen Black-headed Grosbeaks, an Ash-throated Flycatcher, two Orange-crowned Warblers, and a Bullock's Oriole on a short birding jaunt around the neighborhood. Hmm. Something fishy was going on! I flipped through San Diego County Bird Atlas...

And guess what? They were probably migrants! This really opened my eyes, and since then I've been hearing Black-headed Grosbeaks out the window and the flight calls of Yellow Warblers overhead. "So what," some birders would say. "You've been seeing those birds all spring and summer."

Well, now that I realize that they are migrants, I look at them with a new light. Soon, I should begin seeing migrants that do not breed locally such as Western Tanagers and Wilson's Warblers. In the meantime, I will enjoy watching migration unfold!