[EBB Sightings] this morning along the Curran Trail

Dear Birders:

When I opened my car door this morning at Tilden Park's Inspiration
Point parking lot, I heard the cheerful "hip three cheers" of the
Olive-sided Flycatcher.  Three cheers, indeed, on this sunny and calm
morning that began with frost on the roofs and 38 degrees on the
thermometer.

I headed down the Curran Trail to the area reported by others below the
first eucalyptus grove where I hoped to see and hear warblers.  On this
morning rich in birds, I descended through layers of song --
Band-tailed Pigeons calling high in the trees, below them the sweet
warbling of a Purple Finch, in a thicket on the hill an Orange-crowned
warbler sang.  Below me in an elderberry, I thought I recognized the
two-part song of the MacGillivray's Warbler (though I didn't spot it),
and closer yet a vigorous warbler song that until I saw its black
crown, I tried to morph it into Yellow Warbler rather than yet another
Wilson's Warbler.

>From the edge of the road, in front of blooming sanicle, I plucked a
few soft, fragrant leaves of mugwort, tucking them into my pocket for
future retrieval.

Ahead, a pair of Song Sparrows were in a lather, the male climbing up
the stalks of last year's hemlock to belt out his song accompanied by
an excited fluttering of wings.

Hidden in a thicket of baccharus, a Wrentit sang his measured notes on
the same pitch before accelerating the tempo. Mixed in were some odd
grating notes that later listening to my "Birds of California" CD I
could confirm were also part of the Wrentit repertory.

>From the eucalyptus grove down the trail came the oddest sounds yet,
baffling me until I realized I heard it only on a passing breeze and I
had to conclude that the 'song' was probably branches rubbing together.

Despairing that I'll ever get warblers sorted out, I climbed back up
the road to the gate where across the road on the grassy hillside, I
entered into another world of birds -- bluebirds' soft notes, crickets
'singing' in the warming grass, a whirl of swallows too far away to
recognize, Lesser Goldfinches' varied song, and the wheeze of a couple
of pine siskins in, yes, a nearby pine tree.

Before leaving the park, I stopped briefly at the Native Plant
Botanical Garden where I heard the resident Black Phoebe, a
Pacific-slope Flycatcher, and the biggest surprise -- the clear, minor
song of two late-lingering Golden-crowned Sparrows (who can blame them
for prolonging their stay in such a favored place).

I know that records are kept of the arrival dates of many breeding
species, I wonder if there are records for the departing winter
residents? Surely the Golden-crowns must be both among the earliest
winter arrivals (mid-September) and the latest to leave.  

I rejoice in every day they are here.

Phila Rogers





























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