[EBB Sightings] They're back!

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Dear Birders:

For maybe thirty years, my Septembers have included an early morning =
ritual.  Beginning about September 15, I walk each early morning up the =
street to where my street ends at the dirt path to Lawrence Hall of =
Science.  I continue on the trail to the parking lot whistling a poor =
three-note imitation of the song of the golden-crowned sparrow.  I stop =
often to listen for that plaintive call coming up from the edge of the =
bay-oak canyon below.  And this morning, I heard what I have been =
waiting for.  For the benefit of no one, I let out the traditional whoop =
which says not only are those sweet singers back, but now it's =
officially fall!

I make note of the date in my nature notebook and this is their earliest =
return.  I recall one September several years ago when they were late in =
arriving and several letters to the editor of the SF Chron appeared, =
including one from our dear Arthur Feinstein, asking: "Where are they?"

I always try to correlate the arrival date with the kind of winter to =
come.  But though I always wish for predictors, the golden-crowns appear =
to just arrival on some time table of their own, probably having =
something to do with conditions at their nesting grounds in the far =
north and nothing to do with conditions here.

But to me they are the harbingers -- the best and dearest news that the =
long summer doldrums are finally over -- the coastal summers of often =
tenacious fogs and a landscape that grows grayer and dryer by the day.

I was born here which is maybe why I celebrate fall with such a joyous =
heart.  Soon the first rain with come and the land will spring to life =
with heightened colors, water again in dry streambeds, the first tiny =
blades of green grass appearing among the dry stubble.  Last night =
skeins of high cirrus clouds to the north caught the last color of the =
day and during the night I could see that the full moon was soften by =
the same thin sheets of cloud.  Cirrus clouds suggest to me that the =
first storms are edging south and we've made it through another summer!

Phila Rogers

 
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morning=20
ritual.  Beginning about September 15, I walk each early morning up =
the=20
street to where my street ends at the dirt path to Lawrence Hall of =

Science.  I continue on the trail to the parking lot whistling a =
poor=20
three-note imitation of the song of the golden-crowned sparrow.  I =
stop=20
often to listen for that plaintive call coming up from the edge of the =
bay-oak=20
canyon below.  And this morning, I heard what I have been waiting=20
for.  For the benefit of no one, I let out the traditional whoop =
which says=20
not only are those sweet singers back, but now it's officially =
fall!
earliest=20
return.  I recall one September several years ago when they were =
late in=20
arriving and several letters to the editor of the SF Chron appeared, =
including=20
one from our dear Arthur Feinstein, asking: "Where are they?"
to=20
come.  But though I always wish for predictors, the golden-crowns =
appear to=20
just arrival on some time table of their own, probably having something =
to do=20
with conditions at their nesting grounds in the far north and nothing to =
do with=20
conditions here.
the=20
long summer doldrums are finally over -- the coastal summers of often =
tenacious=20
fogs and a landscape that grows grayer and dryer by the day.
joyous=20
heart.  Soon the first rain with come and the land will spring to =
life with=20
heightened colors, water again in dry streambeds, the first tiny blades =
of green=20
grass appearing among the dry stubble.  Last night skeins of high =
cirrus=20
clouds to the north caught the last color of the day and during the =
night I=20
could see that the full moon was soften by the same thin sheets of =
cloud. =20
Cirrus clouds suggest to me that the first storms are edging south =
and=20
we've made it through another summer!

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