Judee and Bill Adams first attended the Biggest Week in American Birding in May of 2013. They were so blown away with the abundance and variety of birds seen, that they have returned 4 more times. They will be giving us all the particulars and sharing pictures of the gorgeous birds they saw on those trips.
Wintu Audubon Society is inviting you to a scheduled Zoom meeting.
Topic: Magee Marsh – The Biggest Week in American Birding
Time: Mar 9, 2022 07:00 PM Pacific Time (US and Canada)
Meeting ID: 878 5205 9719
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Meeting ID: 878 5205 9719
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This program, prepared by Bill Oliver, a founding member of the organization in 1976, covers the interests and issues that prompted the formation of the club. He reports an active history of field trips, including a report of booming Sage Grouse. He talks of seeking and receiving approval from the Wintu Tribe for the use of their name. He will talk about the annual Christmas Bird Count. He will relay the many projects that have brought people to Wintu Audubon over the years: bird nest boxes, Burrowing Owl habitat, an Osprey nesting platform, science projects and presentations, and many other collaborative activities. Bill will be joined by Bea Currie and George Horn, long time members of Wintu and partners with Bill in the development of the organization over more than 40 years.
Wintu Audubon Society is inviting you to a scheduled Zoom meeting.
Topic: The History of the Wintu Audubon Society
Time: Feb 9, 2022 07:00 PM Pacific Time (US and Canada)
Meeting ID: 857 1182 1966
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+1 669 900 6833 US (San Jose)
+1 253 215 8782 US (Tacoma)
+1 346 248 7799 US (Houston)
+1 301 715 8592 US (Washington DC)
+1 312 626 6799 US (Chicago)
+1 929 205 6099 US (New York)
Meeting ID: 857 1182 1966
Find your local number: https://us06web.zoom.us/u/kdlm6QPD7f
Explore the 25 acres of landscaped gardens featuring both native and nonnative plants for a wide variety of birds that you can see in your own yards and neighborhood parks, including wintering sparrows like the Golden-crowned and White-crowned.
Meet at 8:00 am at 1125 Arboretum Drive at the main gate near the native plant nursery. We will spend about two hours walking less than two miles on accessible, hard-pack dirt trails. There are bathrooms located at each end of the arboretum.
Participants are required to have proof of full COVID-19 vaccination and sign a waiver.
When the nights are long and frost can be expected, most insects forsake activity and hunker down as eggs or pupae, waiting for spring to resume their active lives. Insect-eating birds feel the rhythm of the season and their sleeping food source, and head south. But some stay, making their winter-living by searching hungrily, maybe frantically, for those sleeping insects.
One such bird is the golden-crowned kinglet. It’s a “king” because it wears a crown – golden in the female and brightening to orange – gold in the male. It’s a kinglet because it’s tiny. At a fifth of an ounce, the golden-crowned kinglet is scarcely larger than a hummingbird. But when hummingbirds head south, vacating the eastern US and leaving just one of their kind to face the milder climes of California, the kinglets stay closer to their nesting grounds. They remain as far north as southern Canada, where they can face temperatures down to -40 degrees. It seems they should shiver, starve, and die, but they do not. Instead they hustle in small flocks, usually high in winter’s trees, scouring twigs and conifer needles for the precious calories in moth cocoons and tucked-up spiders.
Still, they must not waste at night those calories found throughout the day. Like other social animals, a single kinglet in such cold would likely freeze. Instead, they huddle together in protected cavities, bunched close, sharing body warmth. They fluff their small downy feathers, slowing their loss of heat. They survive.
Our area, of course, is not quite so frigid–although plenty cold enough to kill a lost hiker or solo pip. Many of our local golden-crowned kinglets seasonally drop down from the mountains where they raise their offspring. Some winters they can be seen in good numbers along the Sacramento River. An acute ear might hear their brief high trill as they keep in touch with their fellows in the highest foliage.
A studied glance upward might reveal them flitting about in the canopy. However, without binoculars and some practice using them, golden-crowned kinglets are likely to remain barely discernible silhouettes. But if the bird and the viewer contrive to enable a good look, then the viewer will have eyed one of nature’s sweeter gems.
They’re like a sunrise behind hills: pale gray below, then above mixing yellows and darks. Their bright crown is offset with a trim of black; when the male is excited the copper-alloy gold of his crown is raised and especially prominent. The whole of their feathering seems to include both gentility and radiance.
All packaged small. It does take some time and intent to see a golden-crowned kinglet, but the experience is worth it.
If you stroll along the river much this winter you’ll likely see a brown bird the size of a handspan doing the same thing. But you might notice that, unlike you, it is busy poking about the shoreline for insects and crustaceans, and its hind end bobs up and down almost incessantly. The bird may stop bobbing to fly skittering away from you, low over the water’s surface, showing white wing-stripes through its gray-brown topside. This bouncing bird is the spotted sandpiper.
Now don’t expect the spotted sandpiper to have spots this time of year. Spots are a dress-up item for the breeding season, dark dots boldly decking the bird’s white breast and belly, and their brown backsides, too. For now, though, they live their lives plainly–unadorned brown and white, always over or along water, and with just their tail-bobbing to provide some flair.
Spring, however, brings more than spots to these little shorebirds. They are one of the handful of species who break the breeding pattern common to birds and large fauna in general.
Most sandpipers breed in the Far North, where the twenty-four hour sun spurs explosive growth of plants and lichens, and the hordes of insects that feed on them. Those insects are food for millions of birds, and crucial to their efforts to feed their young. That environment is rich, but only briefly so. Winter encroaches at it from both ends. To nest there, sandpipers have evolved young who develop fast. They lay large eggs; the chicks emerge precocial, ready to run and feed themselves. To guide and protect their chicks through their brief, busy childhood, parents bond for at least a season, and sometimes for multiple seasons.
But spotted sandpipers, those bobbing birds along our riverbank, have spread their nesting grounds to include not just the Far North but rivers, mountain lakes and meadows, flats and shorelines throughout Canada and most of the US. They are the most widespread sandpiper on the continent. This gives them a longer nesting season than their Arctic cousins. But the females still lay those large precocial eggs, each egg 20% of its mother’s weight. They don’t produce more than four for a single nest; the physical toll seems to be too high.
Spotted Sandpiper Nest with Eggs
To take advantage of the longer warm season, perhaps the birds could raise two broods, as many songbirds do. But nature finds many ways to solve life’s puzzles. Spotted sandpipers maximize their reproduction by having the females focus on egg-laying and the males focus on child-rearing.
At breeding season, female spotted sandpipers establish breeding territories which they vigorously defend from other females and where they court up to four males with elaborate swooping displays and strutting. Over a 6-7 week breeding season, they lay an average of eight eggs but as many as twenty, with never more than four in a nest. The total number of eggs seems to be determined by the availability of food and males. For their part, the males separately tend and protect, even from one another, their individual nests and hatchlings.
Biological changes have evolved to support this reproductive process. At breeding season, females undergo a sevenfold increase in their testosterone, promoting their active courting and territory defense. Males produce high levels of prolactin, a hormone that promotes parental care-giving.
While nature has pioneered this reproductive technique, nature does not guarantee the success of any particular strategy. Like many species, spotted sandpipers, despite being widespread, have declined over 50% in the last fifty years. What comes next for them remains unknown.
Another unknown is the function of sandpiper tail-bobbing. Guesses range from the mildly plausible – say, aiding in balancing on rough terrain – to the absurd – say, pumping body oils over their feathers to improve waterproofing. That latter reckoning is imaginative, but completely lacks physiological evidence. Since convincing explanations still elude us, the hypothesizing is wide open. Have at it!