[EBB Sightings] Huckleberry Preserve: Woman and birds together again

I vastly prefer solitary birding...not only am I not
distracted by human concerns and conversations, but I
can move about far more quietly and surreptitiously in
the forest, my awareness wholly focused upon the
natural world around me. And somehow, after over
twenty years of hiking the Huckleberry Trail, and
after SF Chronicle confirmation yesterday, that yes,
birds actually see us and alter their behaviors in
response to our presence (shocking news!!!) I really
seem to have become a benign part of the Huckleberry
landscape, at least to the natives. 

Despite it being a Saturday, and the parking lot
filled with cars, once upon the trail I was pretty
much alone in the company of my avian and botanical
friends, under clear and sunny skies and perfect
hiking temperatures. 

I spent many long minutes watching a Selasphorus
hummingbird sip from and thereby pollinate the
urn-like flowers of the huckleberries. Although
huckleberries are primarily pollinated by various
species of bees, the hummers seem to be the ones that
go deep within the shaded canopies of trees like the
handsome, golden and green leaved Chinquapin, where
the arching huckleberry branches intrude.

I watched in admiration as the hummer sat comfortably
within the trailside canopy, and drank from an
overhanging pendulous row of huckleberry flowers; what
a clever way to conserve that high-level hummingbird
energy! This was from an area where I often pick and
eat the berries come fall; it is nice to see the
berry-making process from the very beginning. Again,
this little hummer was only a foot or two away from
me, gazing at me unafraid while he fed.

Even more amazing to me was the later close company of
a warbling vireo, who perched and preened just a few
feet away. I have suffered many cricks of the neck
attempting to gain a glimpse of these far more
commonly heard birds, and I was suffused with
gratitude at both his acceptance and the ease of my
gaze. 

For the first time ever I saw a flock of Cedar
Waxwings there, flitting and feeding in a towering oak
along the trail (and by the way, these birds seem to
still be everywhere in the BA; isn't it a bit late for
them?). There seems to be an influx of caterpillars
(perhaps the oak moth larvae?), judging from both the
bird activity and the few twisty worms that I've seen
hanging down on threads; at any rate, the birds were
busily working the leaves and branches, and certainly
not feeding on berries. It is always a treat to see
their handsome, so smooth as to appear painted on,
rich brown plumages, and their wingtips "dipped in
bright wax," and hear their soft "tsssipping" calls.

I must have had, unbeknownst to me, my cloak of
invisibility on, or possibly the abundant, squirming
resource was too tempting for my presence to be a
deterrent. At any rate, a pair of red squirrels
ignored my presence and came in to deliberately forage
along tree limbs a few feet in front of me, poking
their noses systematically into the thick patches of
moss tucked into crevices and forks, and sometimes
gaining a possibly proteinaceous treat (despite having
them in great and glorious detail in my binocs, I
couldn't actually see what it was that they were
eating). This is NOT typical behavior for these
normally shy animals, who usually slip away through
the treetops at my footfalls. 

I was mesmerized by my window into the squirrels'
world, but finally the continued loud and agitated
calls of jays and towhees behind me slid into my
conscious awareness, and I realized that the squirrels
were using my presence to gain an advantage over the
even shyer birds! Not wishing to block the birds any
longer from this tasty, albeit temporary, resource, I
slipped off down the trail myself.

A solitary eagle perched atop Round Top, a soaring red
tail in the canyon, a round-tailed Coopers hawk
winging swiftly by, and a locally breeding raven who
swooped low over me in the parking lot 
represented some of the panoply of Huckleberry
raptorial birds. At the entrance, Wilson's warblers
flashed by in streaks of liquid gold as they continued
with their territorial squabbles. Boys will be boys.

Within the upper canopy of the oak and 
Bay forest along the lower trail, a large and very
loud woodpecker made me think of the recent, local
pileated sightings. I never got a decent look at it,
though, and this bird was most likely just a hairy.
But hope springs eternal, and the happily increasing
local sightings of this raucous and hugely obvious
bird, make it just a matter of time before another
appears at this site.

Happy birding to one and all, wherever you choose to
go.

Your Grateful Huckleberry Correspondent,
Debbie Viess