And Then There Were None

As I was putting breakfast together one morning, I noticed a bird flying back and forth to the little patio table outside my window. The tabletop is packed with plants, and she (a female Dark-eyed Junco) was darting among the pots—carrying bits of grass or leaves.

Peering through the window, I spotted the nest she was constructing. Her male partner was observing from atop the nearby fence.

I backed away, wondering if they'd see me and be spooked.

After she laid her first egg, I had my answer.

I was thrilled to have a front-row seat, and also worried about the neighborhood cats.

The next day a second egg appeared, and one more the day after. I was impressed with the size of the eggs, relative to the size of the bird.

When I returned home later that day, the nest (visibly lined with strands of my hair!) was empty.

I found one of the eggshells under a bush; ants were finishing off whatever the hungry thief had left behind.

Was the culprit a crow? A scrub jay? The nest remained empty, the sad mystery unsolved.

Here a Bird, There a Bird

Egrets or your money back! (I promised.)

But first, there were many other shorebirds to see. White Pelicans, American Avocets, Cliff Swallows ... hmm, there's an idea.

We did see egrets (both Snowy and Great) hunting in the shallows. And a stately Great Blue Heron.

I led us off-route on an impromptu detour to view the cliff swallows nesting on Google's fancy new building adjacent to Moffett Field. I wasn't sure how that would play out, but I was prepared to beg forgiveness. [No issues.] After all, we were just a bunch of bird-brained cyclists milling about and peering up at the mud nests. Three chicks peeked out of one, chirping frenetically until a parent swooped in with lunch.

At the rookery, the Black-crowned Night Herons were deep in the foliage, too well-camouflaged for inexperienced eyes to pick out. The egrets, however, did not disappoint. I even managed to find a blue eggshell in the brush, much to the delight of my little tour group.

The chicks are pretty big now; we witnessed some furious feeding action, whetting our own appetites for lunch. [And, as I've found on every one of these outings: Zareen's was a hit, with one enthusiastic rider proposing that we should plan some future rides just for lunch.]

One more bonus awaited: Back at the start, it was the last day to score some fresh apricots from Sunnyvale's Heritage Orchard.

A couple of riders had biked to the start; with one headed in my direction, I enjoyed a little company for some of the ride home. A fun time was had by all; and for me, a hearty 53 miles with 1,020 feet of climbing.

Bird Scout

On Tuesday's outing, a rider asked whether I would lead another visit to see the egrets. [Hmm. It's been a while.] We set a tentative date for the ride.

I knew the nests would still be active, but wasn't sure if there would be any surprises on the 25-mile loop I'd developed for that ride. One way to find out ...

I took the most direct route to reach the starting point; following my nose, I managed to find the same turns I'd optimized a few years back.

Available restrooms? [Check.] No scheduled detour at the stadium? [Check.] Connection to the Bay Trail? [Oops. Not through the dump.] Route through the Google campus? [Revise.] Lunch stop? [Check.]

Egrets? [Of course.] For variety, I captured a shot of a Great Blue Heron along the Bay Trail instead.

With no need to complete the loop today, I stopped for a bakery treat on the way home. After 56 miles and ~1,200 feet of climbing, I'd earned a sweet reward.

Birds of Belgatos

And now for something completely different.

I decided to take advantage of a bird-watching session offered through a local library, and to treat myself to a suitable pair of binoculars.

I was a bit skeptical about our destination—a little neighborhood park. [Oh ye of little faith!] As the bird-watching expert jabbered away, her back to the sky, I spotted some drama overhead: a hawk being chased by a (somewhat) smaller bird. Feeling it would be rude to interrupt her outright, I simply raised my arm and pointed. “A Cooper's hawk, chasing a Red-tailed hawk; she must have a nest nearby.” [Okay, things are looking up. Literally.]

And indeed, she did have a nest nearby.

Although we spent most of the session planted in one corner of the park, a few steps away from the parking lot, we spotted two of the juveniles perched in a tree after we took a short stroll uphill. They were waiting for mom to fly in with their next meal, and tolerated our gaping and gawking for quite a while before they took wing.

To return to their nest, as it turned out; where we discovered a third juvenile.

We watched an American Robin pluck a big juicy grub out of the park's lush field of grass, and several Western Bluebirds and a Black Phoebe foraging as well. We saw familiar Dark-eyed Juncos, Anna's hummingbirds, a Lesser Goldfinch, and an American Crow; circling overhead, a pair of Red-tailed hawks a-courting and a Turkey Vulture.

An eye-popping yellow bird darted through some branches: a Hooded Oriole. A Chestnut-backed Chickadee teased us—now you see me, now you don't. [An oriole and a chickadee, in California? What do I know ...] We also glimpsed a White-breasted Nuthatch scooting up and down a tree trunk.

Without our expert guide, I would have been able to identify only the birds that were already familiar to me. The rest would have registered as ... Tiny bird. Brown bird. Another tiny bird. Yellow bird.

I walked away impressed. I would never have imagined I could see so many different birds while standing in one spot at the edge of a neighborhood park!