Visitors 110
Modified 21-Dec-23
Created 15-Jul-19
27 photos
On the monthly birding transect from Escobar Gate along the ridge, I saw... birds! (As well as much else, as usual.) Here are the birds, for a start.
Birds of many sizes, shapes, and even orders. The abundant passerines, in the order Passeriformes (containing more than half of bird species today), are represented by four birds here: three which sing, and one (the Raven, a corvid), with virtuosic vocalizations and a bit too much intelligence to get along with humans. The order Galliformes is represented by the aggressive exotic Wild Turkey (Meleagris gallopavo). Finally, here is my encounter with a juvenile Great Horned Owl (Bubo virgianus), of the order Strigiformes -- owls only.
The bulk of these photos feature a House Wren: singing, holding an insect up for inspection, or just posing. In one of my favorite trees, the ancient (and now dead) Valley Oak I have called the "Phainopepla Tree", after a rare (for Jasper Ridge) bird that was there for a few years, when the mistletoe flourished.
I spent even more time with the juvenile Horned Owl -- but these photos are mostly too boring. The owl was almost motionless, staring at me as I looked back, took photos, looked around, then took some more photos.
Taking so many bird photos, I am bound to catch a bird blinking its nictitating membrane, the second, semitransparent eyelid used to clear off the eye while still seeing a bit. Here are two examples: the House Wren and the Great Horned Owl.
For completeness, here is my owl story from an earlier post:
Here is a juvenile Great Horned Owl (Bubo virginianus) I notice two nascent feather tufts at the top corners of the head. Certainly not the Barn Owl I have seen here in a previous year!
Standing up from photographing flowers up close, I glanced at the cavity in the lone Valley Oak on Road F, near Trail 15. My gaze was met by an unflinching stare from a calm presence. An owl stared back at me. Directly at me. Moving slowly (but it was impossible to hide my motions), I raised my telephoto camera, focused, and clicked. The owl did not appear to move. So now I took more photos -- not moving my feet or most of my body. This eventually devolved into a staring match. Guess who won. Once in a while, I would glance around, looking for the other birdrs, noticing other birds and even lizards around the tree, and swinging my camera to photograph them. Always, when I swung my camera back to the owl, I was met by the same calm implacable stare. Twice I happened to catch the owl's second transparent eyelid, the nictitating membrane, blink to moisten the eyes in a photo I took (but I was not continuously observing the owl's eyes, and I only notied this rapid blink whereviewing my photos.). Finally, after holding my place for 39 minutes, and the owl holding its place as well, I notice the birding group in the distance. and bid my companion goodbye -- with thanks for sharing these moments with me.
Perhaps an inexperienced juvenile would have had the curiosity and patience to watch this unusual being, the one making the strange clicking noises.
Check out an earlier photo from the same tree, same cavity, two years earlier. A Barn Owl. This time, the owl showed more patience than I, and moved less, for six minutes. Then the owl gave up and went below, leaving me victorious in the staring contest.
