LARGE BIRDS ON THE MEDIAN
Great Blue Heron on University Ave median near Cesar Chavez Park Berkeley
Great Blue Heron on the University Avenue median patient and focused
West of the freeway, University Avenue changes into a rough wavy road, not easy to ignore. It has a median.
The median and roadsides are good places to see and photograph large birds before ever arriving at Berkeley Cesar Chavez Park.
The great blue heron shows the dynamics of this strip of land. Cars pass near him, but he is focused on something else. He’s patient. As he waits, cars disappear, leaving a large iconic bird in nature.
The turkey vulture is perched high on a street lamp on the median.
Sometimes there is a red-tailed hawk in his place.
A few days ago I saw a great white egret on the median. I could barely find a place fast enough to pull over on this busy, bumpy road with few good places to park.
Turkeys are many places in Berkeley, slowing us down, making us pause, making us look, making contact.
On the median they go a step further. They chide. The females gobble at vehicles traveling too fast and too loud and do more of the same with construction workers and their machinery.
The male turkey as he crosses the road to the median goes into full display. He deliberately drags his skirt feathers on the pavement, the unnerving sound announcing his presence.
PHOTOGRAPHING AT HOME
A Ruby-crowned Kinglet lived in a gigantic juniper tree in the front yard.
One morning he discovered the sideview mirror on the car in the driveway next to the tree. After that, he came every morning.
He hangs from the top edge of the mirror by one or two feet, fluttering, pecking, kissing at his reflection. He flies to the driver’s side mirror and starts it all over again before flying back to the passenger side where he gets even more excited.
When he catches glimpses of himself in the darkened window beside the mirror he completely loses it. He flies back and forth the length of the driveway like a toy jet airplane at his top speed, wings making a loud whir.
When he occasionally stops for two seconds, he reveals a dapper little puff of a bird in changing soft greens, yellows, blues, a white stripe on each wing, white circles around his eyes and that vivid ruby crown that he can show or hide.
Wow, that was a while ago. What a surprise from my front yard. Now I look closely at home to see what else is here.
CALIFORNIA TOWHEE VISIT
Towhee perched on computer
Usually towhees hop around the backyard. One towhee visits the deck outside the kitchen door. Later he makes it to the living room and perches on top of the computer screen.
JOURNEYING HOMEWARD FROM HOME
His name is Hello.
When I say, Hello, to an empty sky, a crow appears. It takes a minute or two if he’s far away. He stops by solo several times a day, flapping by a window or a door. Once in a while he brings his mate.
Here he is outside the kitchen door.
When no one is near the doorway, he invites himself in. Now he’s inside by the window.
This is his second time inside. He knows the layout.
He comes through the upstairs back doorway, through the house, down the interior stairs and waits for me to go around and open the front door for him to exit.
Free, he sits on the sign near the front porch. He’s in no hurry to leave.
With a flapping of wings, he announces his presence. I enjoy his visits. He shuffles along the edge of a roof gutter with a semi-pleasant sound, letting me know where he is. He disappears. I spot him after a minute.
He takes pleasure in vanishing while remaining near.
He’ll sit the fence with his back toward me, or fly to a tree, roof, gutter, deck, sometimes the ground, tilt his head, watching, waiting for me to say Hello.
Today, with my dog resting nearby, he stays near while I pull weeds.
He finds a container of sealed dog treats on a backyard table. It’s not for him. But he demonstrates he can open it. Nature in action.
His visits seem to invite me stay outside.
He comes by daily now, staging a black blur flitting by a window where I’m sure to glimpse him. A bit dramatic. He adds a cawing, when it’s only a flyby, See you in a few. He returns in a few.
Twice last week we were treated to a murder of crows, shaking up two slow nights while sheltering in place at home.
Both shows happened at the tip the tall tree behind our house accented by the pink hues of the clouds following the sundown.
I suspect Hello is part of the show. It’s his territory.
Does wildlife invite us out?
When I was four, the two kids ages four and six from across the street would come by at 6 am and ask to play. Now a crow named Hello comes by and asks.
Can you come out to play?