Test Flights

When I saw the size of the chicks last weekend, I knew that prime viewing season would soon draw to a close. When I extended another invitation to ride, I was joined by two cycling friends and a neighbor whose horizons I would broaden.

Along the bay, when we paused to watch a black-necked stilt strutting on the trail we found ourselves in the midst of some sort of avian drama, with three of them swooping over and around us.

Not much water flowing from Stevens Creek to the bay, but the banks were abloom.

Along the way, we had seen cormorants and grebes, swallows and ducks, and (of course) egrets.

My hunch was correct: the fledglings were starting to venture out of the nest, like this little black-crowned night heron.

My mind still boggles that these birds, with such broad wing spans, maneuver through the foliage of sycamore trees to establish their nests.

Somehow there is magic to be found on each visit to the rookery: for the first time, today, seeing fledglings extending and flapping their wings.

Opting for a different route home, my exercise for the day was cycling 53 miles (with something under 1,000 feet of climbing).