mjm@oliven.olivetti.com (Michael Mammoser) (05/12/89)
Last weekend I went on the Santa Clara Valley Audubon Society
annual field trip to Mines Rd. This road runs south from Livermore toward
the Santa Clara Valley on the east slope of the Diablo Mts. The Diablo
Mts. run along the east side of San Francisco Bay, and the eastern side
presents some of the drier, more arid habitat that is typical of the
Central Valley.
Many of the birds seen here reflect this drier habitat; such as
Phainopepla, Roadrunner, and Lawrence's Goldfinch. This area is also
probably the northernmost limit of the range of Costa's Hummingbird. This
was the bird that I wanted to see, it being a lifer for me. At the start
of the trip I asked the leader what the chances were of seeing this bird
and he replied that they were about 105 percent. This seemed to me a bold
and risky statement, until I found out that he had a female on a nest and
a male's favored perch area staked out. Unfortunately, we weren't planning
on getting to this spot until about 9 hours later.
Last year this trip was held on a day that was unbearably hot, and
I suffered through it to the end for a chance at the hummer, and missed it.
On that day we saw about 3 Lawrence's Goldfinch, a species that is somewhat
irregular, varying in numbers from year to year. This year the weather was
quite pleasant; cloudy and cool. The Lawrence's Goldfinch seemed to be
everywhere. We even found a nest at one point (another confirmation for
the Breeding Bird Atlas). We started off with a pair of Wood Duck near
Livermore and ticked off bird after bird as we moved south; California
Quail, Golden Eagle, Violet Green Swallow, Acorn Woodpecker, Ash Throated
Flycatcher, Black Phoebe, Hutton's Vireo, Phainopepla, etc. Each mile
bringing us closer to the junction. You see, the junction is where Del
Puerto Canyon Road branches off of Mines Road and heads east, and is the
road along which the hummingbird is seen.
It seemed like we would never get there, almost as if the leader
didn't want to get there. We stopped at one point because the leader said
that it was a good place to see Steller's Jay. I thought to myself;
"Steller's Jay!? We can see those in our backyards! Let's get on with it!"
Finally we arrived at the junction and stopped for a break at a small
country store there. I asked the leader if we were now going up Del Puerto
Canyon, and he said that first we would check the San Antonio Valley for
Lewis' Woodpecker. I wonder if he heard me groan.
Finally we were off along Del Puerto Canyon and, then suddenly,
another stop at a campground to look for some insignificant bird (Black
Phoebe, I think) that had a nest. I went to the bathroom. When I got
back to the cars, the leader was trying to find the song of the Canyon
Wren on his tape player. First fast-forward past it, then rewind before
it. Then fast-forward past it; rewind before it. I fidgeted. (it turns
out that he could whistle the song as good as the tape anyway) Off again.
Then, 3 miles from "the spot", it was the obligatory stop for the Canyon
Wren. Both the tape and the whistle worked perfectly and the wren sat up
on top of a rock 20 ft. away and sang back at us. I looked through my
binoculars ("yeah,yeah, it's a wren") and shifted my weight back and forth
from one foot to the other.
Suddenly, we were there! I jumped out of the car and unloaded my
scope (first time on the trip). The leader looked up at the cliff face
toward the nest and said that the female just left. We moved up and I
positioned my scope, centering it on the nest. The female Costa's is hard
to tell from the female Black Chinned, but the nest is distinctive and I
wondered about the etiquette of identifying a life bird by the nest it
was sitting on. I needn't have worried, for, as we waited, the nest
remained empty. We crossed the road and scanned the tree tobacco along the
creek bed, finding only female Anna's. Periodically I would look back at
the nest with my binoculars or walk back across the road and look through
the scope. Empty. Time passed. A half an hour. I started thinking about
the 105 percent chance I had nine hours ago. Forty five minutes. I was
busy formulating a theory about how sure-fire guarantees turn into jinxes
when the leader suggested that we walk up the road to the perch area of
the male. I brightened. After all, identifying the male is straightforward
(whatever nest it's sitting on :-). Anxious to get there, I walked ahead.
A singing Canyon Wren moved across the cliff face and the leader stopped
to follow it with his binoculars. I hung my head and sighed.
The next thing I remember is the leader saying "the male's sitting
on his perch". I was at his side in a flash. First, get the binoculars on
it; it could fly any moment. I looked in the direction he indicated and,
there at the top of a small tree, sat a small, round-headed, short-billed
hummingbird. It turned toward us and flashed what looked like a humorous,
irridescent, purple handlebar mustache. For the next 10 or 15 minutes we
watched; through binoculars, through scopes, moving to within about 40 ft.
As it turned out, he didn't leave us. We had to leave him.
The two hour drive back got me home 12.5 hours after I had left
it that morning. It had been a long and weary day. In the end, it had
also been a glorious one.
Mike