Winged Sights and Sounds of the Sage Scrub

By Mel Carriere

Now would be as good as time as any to take a walk through the sage scrub, I suppose.  The unseasonable rainfall has somewhat rejuvenated things around here a bit, and the life down in the canyon bottoms should not be as dry and brittle as has been the norm since the politicians started getting serious about the water crisis.  Do the birds that bounce from sage to sumac worry about the drought on some level, or does nature automatically adjust for them, limiting their reproductive capabilities through the skillful application of hormones, or perhaps just "culling the herd" via natural Darwinistic survival of the fittest methods; in the process making sure there's enough to go around for the few that survive.

These are some heavy questions, but all I really want to do is take a walk through the canyon bottoms and get in touch with the bird life down in them.  When I first started birdwatching, a visit to the local canyon corridor was a monthly occurrence at least, but now it seems like years since I've gone.  I think I just ran out of new birds down there and sort of got tired seeing the same thing all the time.  Now I miss it, and I think it's time to go back.

San Diego has these fantastic undeveloped wildlife corridor canyons that criss-cross the city limits.  Depending on how much and how consistent the water that flows through their streambeds is, anything from low, scrubby willows to massive sycamores can be found growing there, along with the occasional invasive Pepper Tree or Russian Olive that has sprung up from a seed that strayed from someone's garden.  On the walls of these mini refuges within the sprawling metropolis one finds the Coastal Sage Scrub habitat, characterized by its low, drought tolerant scrubs, most notable of these being the chamise, various varieties of sage, buckwheat, and two or three kinds of sumac.  The chamise is also called greasewood, probably because it ignites like a grease fire when the autumn Santa Ana winds put it to the torch.

The sage scrub doesn't sound like much, and in truth it is not that impressive to look at either, especially during the long, dry summer that stretches through October.  Nonetheless, the sage scrub is the secret home of several interesting and lovely birds, and if you stick to the shaded canyon bottom and conduct yourself in an unobtrusive manner, many of these denizens of the Canyonlands will sneak down toward you and make their presence known, even though the bird guides and websites tend to describe them as "secretive."

Some are more secretive than others, I have discovered.  The bouncing ball song of the Wrentit is common everywhere, although the bird itself skulks in the thick brush and is frustratingly difficult to see.  The California Gnatcatcher is especially secretive for me, because I have yet to have a confirmed sighting of one, even though I have crossed its poor desert country cousin The Black Tailed Gnatcatcher off my list already.  Not so secretive are the Rufous Sided Towhees that flash their rusty flanks and muscle for territory with their drab California Towhee cousins that sneak down from the cool human gardens on the mesas above.  An occasional Roadrunner makes an appearance, and the California Quail can be heard singing that Frank Sinatra tune about the Windy City as they hunker down somewhere out in the brush.

The California Thrasher, which you see above, is also referred to as "secretive," but to me this is inaccurate.  The Cal Thrasher will boldly perch on a dry stick to proclaim its ownership of the Canyon in its rambling, disconnected, rather avant garde song that says "Yes I am the signature species of this place and without me it would suck down here."  Of course I have failed to capture the poetry in the message, but the real meaning is lost in translation.  You have to go and hear it for yourself.

One of my favorite memories of the sage scrub involved resting in the shadow of a Pepper Tree and watching as a California Thrasher strolled by casually within a few feet of me.  It looked like a Roadrunner in miniature, scratching through the dried leaf litter for edibles.  For a moment, at least, man and bird were at peace with one another there in the shade.

There is plenty of life just like this scratching around in those dry hills that line our Southern California coast.  It is a disservice indeed to say it is dead up there, because dead is far from the truth.  The beauty of this life is admittedly stark, but the hidden art of the sage scrub is all the more valuable because one has to work to see it.  It's time for me to get back to work; I need to return to the canyons before the cloud cover of the May Gray and June Gloom has disappeared; leaving me swooning in the July sun with my inert binoculars in hand.

The book below is highly recommended if you are planning a hike through the sage scrub or elsewhere in Southern California.





Birds by Mel is powered for flight by copious amounts of shade grown, warbler friendly coffee, which unfortunately is very expensive.   I have nothing to do with ad selection here, but unless you find them completely annoying or offensive I would appreciate if you investigated what my sponsors have to say.


Above photo of the California Thrasher is attributed to:  "<a href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Toxostoma_redivivum_-Morro_Bay,_California,_USA-8.jpg#/media/File:Toxostoma_redivivum_-Morro_Bay,_California,_USA-8.jpg">Toxostoma redivivum -Morro Bay, California, USA-8</a>" by <a class="external text" href="http://www.flickr.com/people/72825507@N00" rel="nofollow">Mike Baird</a> from Morro Bay, USA - <a class="external text" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/mikebaird/2532590105/" rel="nofollow">California Thrasher, Toxostoma redivivum, Morro Bay, CA 28 May 2</a>Uploaded by <a title="User:Snowmanradio" href="//commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Snowmanradio">snowmanradio</a>. Licensed under <a title="Creative Commons Attribution 2.0" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0">CC BY 2.0</a> via <a href="//commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/">Wikimedia Commons</a>.

Strange Sounds from my Neck of the Woods - Western Tanager Updates

By Mel Carriere

My bird blog has been grounded for several days by a strange stomach bug I have been battling with that has left my typing fingers drained and weary, with no urge to take flight.  I hope those of you who are regular readers will pardon my absence as I shut myself up in my nest to recuperate.

There have been a couple of interesting developments in my little corner of the bird world since we last touched base.  On April 29th I went outside in the morning to hear the unusual sounds of what could have been Robins, which are very rare in this part of the country even though they are in extreme abundance in Northern California, but which I suspect were probably Western Tanagers, the bird you see in the photo above.  The song of the two is creepily similar, almost as if one was deliberately imitating the other, but the reason I lean toward Tanager is because the first of May is the time that these birds typically migrate through our suburban San Diego neighborhoods, on their way to breeding grounds in our county's higher, conifer covered elevations.  This is strictly anecdotal and does not have any research behind it, but it seems like since the 2007 fire stripped our Cuyamaca range of much of its tree cover I have not seen this species pass through in the numbers that it did formerly.

My first encounter with this bird came on 6 May, 1999, when I was delivering the mail on my route in South San Diego, very close to the area where it abuts with Imperial Beach.  The male tanager appeared very unexpectedly in an unkempt garden, and for me seemed as peculiar and out of place as finding an elephant drinking from your bird bath.  I was familiar with this splendidly colored bird because the beautifully plumaged males appropriately adorn the cover of many a field guide, but I had imagined the species to be restricted to the cool conifer canopies of upper elevations.

That day and for a few days afterward I came across Tanagers in abundance in some ornamental fig trees that lined a dead end street on my route.  I thought perhaps they were attracted to the thick clumps of fruit that hang down from those trees at that season, or maybe the insects attracted to the ripening fruit, or perhaps both.  At any rate, this brief apparition was not an anomaly because the tanagers returned punctually every year in the early days of May before moving on to the sugar pines and incense cedars of our higher peaks, where I would encounter them while roaming through the then blissfully shady glades that have since been laid barren and exposed by fire.  Then I myself migrated to other temporary job opportunities and lost touch with the tanagers for a while.

Fast forward to this 29th of April, when I thought I heard one singing from the row of Eucalyptus trees to the south of my neighborhood, but the thick foliage would not permit me to confirm the identity of the songster.  It could very well have been an equally rare, equally transitory Robin, but the proximity of the date to the first of May made me think, or perhaps want to believe because of an air of nostalgia for the past, that it was a tanager that was stopping by to refresh my memory of 1999's golden age of birding, when everything I saw with wings was new.

The same day I thought I saw a male tanager perched on a wire as I drove by it in my mail truck in approximately the same area I saw my first, but the glimpse was too fleeting to confirm it.  They could be out there in droves for all I know; this being, appropriately enough, the 16th anniversary of that first encounter, but because I sit here at home nursing my sick tummy they are singing out their wheezy Robin imitations without my being there to witness it.

I guess I will have to give my other bird updates later.  The tanagers have taken up more space than I expected.







Birds by Mel is powered for flight by copious amounts of shade grown, warbler friendly coffee, which unfortunately is very expensive.   I have nothing to do with ad selection here, but unless you find them completely annoying or offensive I would appreciate if you investigated what my sponsors have to say.



Wonderful image of this Western Tanager is by Kati Fleming, licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution, taken 26 June 2010 in Wyoming.  http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Western_Tanager_piranga_ludoviciana;_body_visible,_male.jpg#file