Alamada County in need of Field Notes Editor
Sat, 21 Nov 1998 07:57:36 -0800
From: Mike Feighner
East-Bay-Birders:
While seaching for other information I have noticed at
http://fog.ccsf.cc.ca.us/~jmorlan/afn.html#nocal
that Alameda County is currently in need of a Field Notes Editor. Anyone available and interested out there?
Mike Feighner, Livermore, CA
More on Steller's Jays
Sat, 21 Nov 1998 17:32:29 -0800
From: Larry Tunstall
There's an interesting note about increasing Steller's Jay sightings on the Wild Birds Unlimited of Pleasant Hill website at
http://www.wbupleasanthill.com/update.htm#Steller
Larry Tunstall
http://www.best.com/~folkbird/
Oldsquaw, White-throated Sparrow
Sat, 21 Nov 1998 18:15:18 PST
From: Steve Glover
East Bay Birders,
This morning I took Kent Van Vuren on a whirlwind circuit of the Contra Costa County. At Pt. Isabel there were 2 Peregrine Falcons on the pair of radio towers. An Oldsquaw flew into my scope view, landed very briefly, and took off again. It then flew into Alameda Co. and continued into San Francisco Co.! From Pt. Isabel we could also see at least 4 Black Oystercatchers at the edge of the Albany Dump, Alameda Co. Kent saw a bird there that was almost surely a Surfbird, a pretty rare bird in the East Bay.
A quick run into East Contra Costa County was mostly a waste of time as there is still no water out there. We checked at the far eastern end of Holland Tract in hopes of finding the White-throated Sparrow present last winter (found by Denise Wight and her class). We pished and it popped up immediately. This year it is a beautiful adult with nice yellow lores. This location is reached by taking Delta Rd. from Hwy 4 and going all the way to the marina at the end. At the end of the road is a small sewer pond. The bird is in the shrubs on the other side of the fence.
Yesterday at my mom's house in San Ramon there was a Ferruginous Hawk on the transmission tower out back. I have never seen one on those towers. I also heard White-throated Swift overhead.
I got a message from Bob Richmond that there was a first-year Franklin's Gull at the Hayward Regional Shoreline yesterday. It was in the ponds that are not open to the general public but you may be able to see it from outside the gates.
Steve Glover
The Lost Goose, by Rex Burress
Sat, 21 Nov 1998 19:34:57 -0800
From: Larry Tunstall
THE LOST GOOSE
by Rex Burress
It was a dark day when I passed Dark Canyon and went down into the cloud-darkened Feather River abyss. There was a threat of rain in the air and the somber forest stood startingly still as rock-hunter Richard and I emerged from the Bardees Bar Road to scan the river gravels for jade.
Mid-autumn dimness had disrupted the sun light flow to the maples, and the deciduous lovelies stood half-robed amid showers of golden leaves that had tumbled to the ground. The remaining leaves that were poised for descension onto the gathering mats glowed with brilliancy amid the darkly drabbed conifers. The steep canyon walls were decorated with one of nature's finest offerings of golden maple sprinkled into the vegetative mosaic, and the scene seemed like something out of a fairy tale book.
The first sign of animal occupancy stood directly in the road - a young snow goose! The bright white bird seemed entirely out of place in a river environment hewn through jagged rock and bristling pines. Soft white feathers amid the hard dark forest. Indeed, other than summer-snooping mergansers, waterfowl are seldom seen along the perilous gorges where hidden predators are poised to pounce on juicy targets - and the white snow goose was the ultimate of targets!
The major snow goose flocks infiltrate the marshes out in the open valley in November, and it was very mysterious to see a solitary snow so out of place. At first I thought it must have been injured, but it was soon evident that the wings were OK as the lost migrant gently flew to the river pool. Had it fallen behind the flying flock and wandered into the canyon? I couldn't imagine the cause of its strange disposition.
As Richard and I prowled the great reef of gravels, searching intently for the shiny green clues indicating gem-quality stone, we would glance up to see if the snow goose was still with us. The stray bird stole the show, and even though the joy of finding precious gravel was our goal, the maple-and-snow-goose side lights were nature bonus gifts emphasizing the diversity that makes any outdoor trip more enjoyable.
I thought of a lone snow goose I had seen on Glen Pond below Lake Oroville last year, one that definitely seemed injured and desperate for flock reunion. Sometimes gun shots will scatter a flock of geese, momentarily disrupting their formation, but usually the plaintive wild calls reunite their flight.
There is something about a lone goose seemingly lost in the wilderness that stirs sympathy. During boyhood days on the Missouri farm, a lone giant-sized Canada goose landed on our little farm pond, and even though Dad shot that monster to help supply our fragile economy, I moaned at the downfall, especially when Dad said it was probably an old timer that couldn't keep up with the flock.
Then I wondered if that lone snow goose was too young and weak to keep up with the high flying birds.
"...All day thy wings have fanned
at that far height the cold thin atmosphere,
Yet, sinkest not to the welcome land
Though the dark night is near..." (Bryant)
The snow goose had sunk to the land, although into an unwelcome landspace amid dangerous depths and scant waterfowl food. What a staggering sight it must be for those self-reliant migrants to look down on desolate wilderness and lake-dotted valleys where hunters might be stationed to fire upon the weary travelers. Where do you go when the cannons blast and the wings are weary and there is need to rest?
Just as I saw the surface of the gravel bar and the individual rocks, I could only see the surface of the snow goose story. I knew nothing of the eggs being hatched in Canadian marshes, nor of the development of the bird in the vastness of the northland. Nor could I vaguely understand how one flock of birds could get together and decide when to start the southward flight. It was the same for hundreds of thousands of other feathered visitors trekking through the unmarked skies.
Many of those migrants will settle down onto the Lake Merritt Wildlife Refuge in Oakland, CA, especially hard-flying diving ducks that have returned to the sheltering waters of the coast for millions of years. Sometimes the Sea Brant, a cousin of the inland Canada goose, will linger for awhile at the city-bound refuge, and unexpected arrivals constantly occur. Watch!
Though I go to the Sacramento Valley refuges and see a million migrants during the winter season, I will always wonder where that lone snow goose on the Feather River came from, and what was its final destination. I wonder if it will live to become an adult and partake of the glorious freedom leading from one migratory home to another. Long live the wild goose!
November 16, 1998
Posted to EBbird by Larry Tunstall with the author's permission
© 1998 Rex Burress