[EBB Sightings] Huckleberry bird arrivals and a hasty departure

Summer residents are settling in everywhere. 

Yesterday at the start of the trail, I heard the first
soft, liquid call notes of a Swainson's thrush. Two
hours later, at the end of my loop walk, I was treated
to the sight of it: pale, uniform rufous back and
buffy eye-ring, illuminated by the last light of day. 

I have been hearing Black headed grosbeaks for the
past few days. Yesterday I finally caught a glimpse,
after first listening to its robin-like song, and
indeed, watching a fat pair of robins run along the
trail ahead of me. Feels like a homecoming.

Bewick's wrens rule the upper trail, but the winter
wrens reign in the dark Bay forest below; the presence
of one yesterday confirms my belief that this is a
breeding location for them. Pacific slope flycatchers
sang their odd songs (a rising poot-tweet, followed by
rapidly descending slurred and staccato tones, which
reminded me of the sound of a bouncing ball!). One
also perched in plain sight, giving me good looks at
those confusing empid characteristics. Thanks for
nuttin', honey.

Most curious sighting was of a bold pair of Song
Sparrows. They were along an awful, eroded stretch of
the upper trail that I have dubbed the "Vinca Vale"
(due to its overgrowth of invasive plants, and steep
slopes); this is one of the few areas at Huck that is
brightly illuminated by the sun. Normally, these
sparrows quickly dive into the thick vegetation upon
my arrival, but on this day they continued to boldly
perch in my purvue. Odd.

Precariously perched myself on the crumbling trail, I
watched one clutch the frond of a sword fern, and
another perch several yards away. They seemed intent
upon a thicket of vegetation, and I wondered if they
had a nest there. But it seemed strange that they
would be so obvious. Then, as they both poked about in
the vegetation, again in plain sight of me, I wondered
if they weren't feeding on those emboldening oak moth
larvae. But curiously, one kept fanning its tail, and
what breeding bird displays as it goes into its nest
or feeds, for that matter? Weird. 

But all of these theories didn't quite fit, so I kept
watching. I chose not to raise my binocs, since I
didn't want to scare them off, and I was more
interested in behavior than ID, and of course binocs
narrow one's field of view, as well as sometimes being
off-putting to the birds. But finally, I just couldn't
stand it, and glassed the area where they were poking
around. 

Damned if there wasn't another fat female garter
snake! She was half-coiled and frozen in place, lying
hidden across and covered by greenery, about six
inches below the top of the vegetation, and several
feet above the ground. The sparrow appeared to be
feeding nearby and oblivious to the snakes' presence.
When the snake struck, harmlessly hitting leaves
rather than the bird, the bird again seemed oblivious.
What is going on here??! 

Finally, as I watched the bird watching the snake and
darting about (even eating worms that it caught during
its bold dance) the snake struck again, but this time
the sparrow went on the offensive, and drove the snake
from its hideout! Perhaps it was just waiting for the
snake to straighten out and become harmless before it
acted; in retrospect, it was certainly aware of its
presence all along.

Wow, talk about serendipitous sightings! 

While I hoped for more behavioral glimpses, another
hiker approached along this barely wide enough for one
stretch of trail. I stepped aside as best I could, and
as she passed we chatted a bit. Turned out she was a
wildlife observer, too, and spoke of seeing both the
eagles and watching a red-tail recently fly off with a
snake in its talons! I remarked that it seemed to be a
good year for snakes, and she agreed.

I have only ever seen garter snakes here at Huck, but
heads up all you folks who bird the rocky and sunny
oak woodlands...if a big prey base has increased snake
numbers over-all, our not so benign local rattlers
will be in greater numbers, too. Watch where you put
your hands and feet! And give thanks that at least we
don't have gators out here, the downside of fabulous
birding hotspots like Florida and S. Texas.

Debbie Viess
Oakland