Friday, May 25, 2012

Bobolink

It was an exciting time, but I think it may have passed. I was the lucky first to identify the presence of a bobolink (Dolichonyx oryzivorus) -- a bird of the eastern US and southern Canada -- in San Francisco last week. I posted it to SFBirds, the city's online birding bulletin board, and a flood of observers came to see it. It felt good to be the inspiration for many people to get out and experience nature. I often read the SFBirds postings but rarely contribute anything notable. This was by far the most unusual bird I've ever reported. 

I got the photo below with a borrowed long lens and my film camera body on a return visit to the site.

Bobolink at Crissy Field, San Francisco, May 20, 2012.

I first saw and posted it Thursday, 5/17.  I was leading a class for volunteers, an introductory birding class. I was only trying to point out the differences in feather iridescence on brown-headed cowbirds versus Brewer's blackbirds, when suddenly... whammo, my heart stopped. What was this bird I recognized from the prairies of Illinois doing...here? Was it really a bobolink? How rare is that here? The group was patient with me and my sort of crazed desire to photograph the bird. I was actually trembling and probably nonsensical for a while.

I got the following picture through our spotting scope with the digital point-and-shoot that I borrowed from Cate, an intern with our program (thanks again, Cate!). I pointed it through our spotting scope (I "digiscoped" it) and snapped a few pictures. If no other birders would have arrived and successfully viewed it, this image would have been the one to prove the bird's presence that day to the world.

Digiscoped Bobolink at Crissy Field, San Francisco, May 17, 2012,
 
I returned Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday with success in relocating it. It was actually easy to find, since three out of four of those times it was in the sights of birders on the scene. Some had binocs, some had spotting scopes, others had expensive camera equipment or all of the above. The other of those days, the birders searching for it were out of luck, but we all joined forces and happened to find it within about 2 minutes. One woman said, "We've been here for an hour, and you just show up and find it!?!" My coworker Coty, who joined me to photograph it, heard my comment, "Well, it is 'my' bird." 

I looked for it again Tuesday, Wednesday, and yesterday (Thu) and failed to find it, each time with other birders, and nobody has posted its presence since Tuesday.  Although another coworker told me his friend saw it Wednesday the 23rd. Perhaps it's left, perhaps it's just undetectable. Even when there, he was often hard to see: he spent its time low in the low-mowed turfgrass, poking  his head up occasionally and seldom flying. 

Based on the above two photos, you might be thinking: "Couldn't you just find the blue flag and then locate the bird?" Uh, nope, there were hundreds of these flags out to demarcate various things.

Bobolink viewers at Crissy Field, May 18, 2012.

Starting last weekend, Crissy Field has seen much activity -- the setup of stages, tents, kiosks, signage, and batteries of port-a-potties -- in anticipation of the Golden Gate Bridge's 75th anniversary coming this weekend. An crowd of 300,000 to 500,000 (or more?) visitors is expected. The lawn is no longer a large contiguous swath, which probably was part of the reason it was so appealing for the bird. It had lots of area to cover, with plenty of distance to view approaching predators.  And it seemed to be munching on Poa and unopened dandelion blossoms, which seemed abundant enough at Crissy to feed the entire North American population of bobolinks.

Many people have asked what it was doing here. I have no idea, but can only speculate that it got knocked off-course over its migration path. This bird is a champion of migration, covering over 10,000 round-trip miles each year to travel between its wintering grounds in central South America (the Pampas of southern Brazil and surrounding parts of Argentina and Paraguay) and Eastern North America. It hopscotches through the western Caribbean, probably flying the 500 miles directly north to Cuba in one leap. It migrates in flocks with a thousand other bobolinks and generally makes landfall in Louisiana or Florida, then continues north along the Atlantic states. Read some interesting anecdotes, including a report of one landing on open ocean, here.

There is a small breeding population of bobolink about 160 miles NE of San Francisco, near a town called Eagleville in Surprise Valley. Was this one of those birds? 

It was enjoyable to have this bird visit. I will be volunteering tomorrow to give people directions for the "GGB75" event, but hopefully I'll be pointing out this still-present, rare SF bird to people, rather than the bridge or the thousand port-a-potties.

Listen to its song (great footage starting at about 1:20 and 3:30), after which the bird is named, then check out this dedication to the bird:

Robert of Lincoln
William Cullen Bryant (1794–1878)

Merrly swinging on brier and weed,
Near to the nest of his little dame,
Over the mountain-side or mead,
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name:
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Snug and safe is that nest of ours,
Hidden among the summer flowers.
Chee, chee, chee. 

Robert of Lincoln is gayly drest,
Wearing a bright black wedding-coat;
White are his shoulders and white his crest.
Hear him call in his merry note:
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Look, what a nice new coat is mine,
Sure there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee. 

Robert of Lincoln’s Quaker wife,
Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings,
Passing at home a patient life,
Broods in the grass while her husband sings:
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Brood, kind creature; you need not fear
Thieves and robbers while I am here.
Chee, chee, chee. 

Modest and shy as a nun is she;
One weak chirp is her only note.
Braggart and prince of braggarts is he,
Pouring boasts from his little throat;
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Never was I afraid of man;
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can!
Chee, chee, chee.
Six white eggs on a bed of hay,
Flecked with purple, a pretty sight!
There as the mother sits all day,
Robert is singing with all his might:
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Nice good wife, that never goes out,
Keeping house while I frolic about.
Chee, chee, chee.

Soon as the little ones chip the shell,
Six wide mouths are open for food;
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood.
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
This new life is likely to be
Hard for a gay young fellow like me.
Chee, chee, chee. 

Robert of Lincoln at length is made
Sober with work, and silent with care;
Off is his holiday garment laid,
Half forgotten that merry air:
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
Nobody knows but my mate and I
Where our nest and our nestlings lie.
Chee, chee, chee. 

Summer wanes; the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows;
Robert of Lincoln’s a humdrum crone;
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes:
Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link,
Spink, spank, spink;
When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.
Chee, chee, chee.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Western Tanager

Western tanager in Mountain Lake willows, San Francisco, 2012.

Much has been written about the gorgeous western-US installment of the genus Piranga, the tanagers. I declare this my favorite genus of North American birds.

I found an article that summarizes, more thoroughly than I would have, what I wanted to summarize about the western tanager. I was curious about the Latin name Piranga ludoviciana. What did ludoviciana refer to? [In Latin scientific naming, the first, capitalized word is the genus, which many separate unique species can have -- but the second word, the species or specific name, narrows it down to a unique, individual kind of organism.] So, all tanagers are Piranga ___________ .

Scarlet tanager: Piranga olivacea
Summer tanager: Piranga rubra
Hepatic tanager: Piranga flava (seriously! NO, not referring to this guy -- apparently it means yellow. And I think hepatic means red...)

So -- ludoviciana is the Latin conversion for the word Louisiana. It refers to where the bird was first identified by Lewis and Clark. Not in the state of Louisiana as we know it today, but somewhere in the great expanse of the Louisiana Purchase. 

The handsome fellow above was foraging with a female, probably passing through to northward or eastward locales to breed. He was a welcome addition to my work of weeding in the restored vegetation at Mountain Lake in the Presidio.

Unlike the usual film, I should mention that this was shot with a DSLR.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Goldback Fern

Goldback fern, Marin County, 2012.
Goldback fern, Pentagramma triangularis, is a cool plant to discover: it's unmistakable; if you find it you're probably in a special place; and, you can make a temporary "fern tattoo" using its leaves. The underside of the leaf becomes so rich with golden spores that it shimmers in gold. Carefully plucking one of these leaves in the right time of year allows one to place it on her skin, gently press, then take it away to reveal an intricate golden fern pattern.

This series of two photos (click the two links in this sentence) shows the remarkable color difference between the green top of the leaf and the gold "back." 

The plant is called P. triangularis because the overall leaf shape is, you guessed it, triangular.

And its habitat is varied, but as I mentioned above, I seem to have found this plant in places that I already have grown fond of. I think this is because it's a small, low-growing plant and you must be moving slowly to see it. If you're moving slowly, staring at the ground, it's hopefully because you're smitten with your surroundings. (Other reasons for this behavior may include a lost wallet or camera, but that is a different story.)

Friday, May 4, 2012

It's a Gull

This is not a human-having-bird birth announcement. I'm posting today as Public Service Announcement that some birders don't like to hear the word "seagull". I used to think I was referring to other people when I made this statement. But I recently realized that I am now a person who is irked by the word. 

"There's no such thing as a seagull" is what we birders say. If it's a gull, figure out what it is. (This is not always easy, even for many birders.) If you don't know what it is, call it "a gull."  If you do know what it is, there are over 20 North American possibilities... it's a Western, ring-billed, California, Thayer's, Heermann's, Sabine's, Franklin's, laughing, herring,  mew, little, great black-backed, glaucous-winged, ivory, yellow-footed, yellow-legged, etc. The list goes on, but you won't find "seagull" on it.

Gull and Glare, Ocean Beach, 2011.
Above is a Heermann's gull that I saw at Ocean Beach, SF. This is a common sighting when I saw it in November. This is an attractively colored bird that's pretty easy to identify if you give yourself a chance. Its bill is bright red with a black tip. Its head is pure white and it has a grey belly and darker grey back, and black legs; all its different tones have smooth transitions, as if drawn in pastels.

Heermann's gull can only be seen in western North America. Its world population is only about 525,000, 90 percent of which, amazingly, breed on a single small island in Mexico's Gulf of California