Signs of Winter

I'm never really convinced winter is here.

The reason is strikingly simple: because it really never does come here in Southern California. Call it what you will, but our winters are just summers in crappy, falling-apart Halloween costumes.

Sure, the predict El Nino will happen every year although it never does and this winter, we even had a miniature version of the 2014 East Coast snow disaster.  But just a paltry three days ago there were enough heat waves rising off from the ground that you could have fried a piece of pork on there and not contract salmonella. The birds can convince anyone otherwise, too. It's not yet February and Wilson's Warblers  are piled up into yellow dollops. Bullock's Orioles are rocking out on the streets to the wagging tails of summer empids. Only the occasional waterfowl waltz-in is an avian wake-up call for birders as to what season it supposedly is.

Sometimes we get enough Ring-billed Gulls at the dumpster to call it a White Christmas, but that's about as close as ho-hum SoCal gets.

Lewis’ Woodpeckers (OC winterers) are essentially woodpecker-flycatchers. How can such a trumpy* thing exist? Ask the strange ways of evolution.

Anything that has a huge, thick bill is automatically lovable. Like this, and this. 

The main difference that winter brings for me is that my suburban yard suddenly becomes completely devoid of anything flying and fruit-colored for a couple months. Unless you count adorable Lesser Goldfinches, which are sort of an aged, moldy banana shade.

Then, there's also the winter irruptions. 

Apparently, SoCal's vacation vibe has infected this winter's irruptive avian visitors, which influxed faster than a load of twitchers to an ABA Code 7 and let birders across Southern Cal have looks that would make any Northerner birder go red. 

There are so many Ancient Murrelets spilling across the SoCal coast that seeing them has already become old. #getthejoke

Varied Thrush outnumbered American Robins this winter. California, you're so weird. 

What are YOUR favorite signs of winter? 

-chiccadee-dee-dee

Birds in Love (Episode 1: Part 1/3)

Springtime, for birders, means lots of things. Warblers, thrushes, beautiful birds of every shade possible. For birds, Spring means something very different!


What does Springtime mean for birds?

Mr. Oreo the Hooded Oriole

A few yards away from my yard is a huge, thick palm tree with a lot of stumpy ones scattered around it. I was hoping for an Oriole nest this year. When a male Hooded Oriole (whom I have named Mr. Oreo. I know, super generic name) started swaying and singing on the tree, I took it to be a good omen.

Mr. Oreo doesn't look like he's singing, but he is. Orioles manage to sing their scratchy songs opening their beaks less than an inch wide. 

Today, as I was scouting around and trying to find nests in the backyard, I heard a series of frantic chuffs and scuffles arise from the palm tree. Mr. Oreo had attracted a female with his horrible singing! 

His effort was so desperate and strained, like he had spent his lifetime on getting a girl and now couldn't afford to let her go, that I sincerely hoped they would form a mated pair.  Mr. Oreo tried to impress the female by singing swankily while carefully assuming an upright position on a shaky perch. The female watched for a bit, seemed won over, and the two flew off to who knows where. 

Mourning Doves in Love

Though I can't say this is the same pair I've seen throughout the year mating for sure, it definitely seems like it!

It starts off with a simple routine. The pair starts off far apart and slowly inches together, preening all the way so that they look like giant cottonballs: 

"I love you!"

One member of the pair then extends their beak outward in an offer:

And they form a violent, swaying kiss! 

What are some of the courting and mating rituals YOU have seen in your backyard?







Sorry about the lack of blog posts recently, time has been really short.


-chiccadee

Backyard Bird Photoshoot!

Backyard Bird Photoshoots

Sometimes, when the air is warm and the breeze is soft, I like to sit for a half-hour or so roaming around my tiny, messy backyard and shooting birds.

I really like to shoot birds. It's one of my favorite activities. Especially when you shoot a really rare or beautiful bird!

With a camera, of course (In all probability, someone is going to read just the above three sentences and go on a two-hour rant). Despite what people think, point-and-shoots can take good pictures.

Lesser goldfinches are one of my favorite subjects. 

This big, bad, goldfinch isn't afraid of the thorn bush!

Lesser Goldfinches are plain but beautiful at the same time.

Hummers come up next. 

Half of the photos I take in the backyard are of hummingbirds. 

This little, bad, hummer isn't afraid of the thorn bush either. 

A male Allen's Hummingbird shows off his gorgeous gorgets to the ladies. 

To take this shot, I had to learn the habits and timing of this feisty little male. 

Last but not least, the beloved MODO! 

This pair shamelessly gets into it all the time on my fence.

Next time you're tired and don't want to go anywhere, why not just take a chair, grab a camera, sit outside, and start watching and taking photos of birds?

-chiccadee