Natural History Journal

The Loggerhead Shrike is a fascinating little bird.  One of the first things you might learn or notice about the habits of this shrike is that it is a songbird in the traditional sense, but acts more like a raptor.  It is typical of open country where it sits on low, often conspicuous perches, scanning for suitable prey, which includes insects, such as grasshoppers and beetles, lizards, frogs, small rodents, and even other small birds.  Since shrikes lack the gripping talons of true raptors, they have devised a strategy to make do with what they have: shrikes are well-known for impaling their prey on thorns and barbed wire, or wedging it into crevices, to hold it conveniently in place.  Like raptors, the actual killing blow is delivered by the shrike's pointed beak to the base of the neck of its prey.  According to Cornell's All About Birds, the Loggerhead Shrike is capable of carrying prey equal to its own mass, by holding it either in its feet or beak. This partic

Winter in the Great Central Valley is the time to visit our beautiful National Wildlife Refuges.  The wetlands are full of life, providing just a glimpse of the biodiversity this area used to support.  Winter days are crisp, clear and sunny - or they at least have the potential to be, once the fog burns off - and dusk falls early, allowing naturalists to hear owls call and watch flocks of waterfowl settle in for the night, all before supper!  Our local wetlands are bursting with avian life at this time of year: Sandhill Cranes, Tundra Swans, American White Pelicans, geese like you've never seen before (Snow and Ross's Geese, Canada and Cackling Geese, as well as Greater White-fronted Geese) and more ducks than you'll know what to do with!  One of the most abundant species of duck, and surely one you will encounter on any wetlands visit this winter, is the Northern Shoveler ( Anas clypeata ).  Learn this duck, and you'll be well on your way to identifying a large

Oh, lovely Christmas greenery: the holly, the ivy, the evergreen, the mistletoe... the toyon!  I've personally never heard a Christmas song about that last one (and if you have, I'd love to hear it), but here in California, toyon ( Heteromeles arbutifolia ) is our very own native Christmas shrub.    Also called California Christmas Berry or California Holly, toyon is an attractive and hardy shrub of the Great Central Valley and surrounding foothills below 4,000 feet, a part of the chaparral community.  It can be found across the state, from coast to mountains, north to south, but is excluded from deserts and high elevations.  Toyon is not only native to California, but endemic to California and Baja California, found nowhere else in the world.  It is an evergreen shrub, but it is around Christmas time that toyon really shines, clusters of bright red berries (technically pomes, like apples and pears) covering the large 15-foot shrubs.     Toyon plays an important r

I love Christmas.  I love celebrating the birth of our Savior, and enjoying time with my family.  I appreciate the general feelings of warmth and love, generosity and kindness that seems to pervade at this time of year.  I love Christmas trees and the stockings.  I love snow in the Sierra.  I love the candlelight Christmas Eve service at church and exchanging gifts with my family. But there are things I dislike about Christmas, too.  And that's ok.  I dislike the rampant consumerism of the season and giant inflatable "decorations" covering front lawns.  I dislike all the waste that comes with mountains of wrapped gifts.  I dislike advertisements that sell expectations, and commercials with starry-eyed kids and shiny cars with big red bows on top.  I dislike the focus-shift that has happened.  Christmas is NOT about shopping or buying gifts, over-decorating your home with shiny things, or even the "winter solstice" (though early Christians did intend for C

I think owls are my favorite group of birds.  I think.  (There are so many birds to choose from, after all!)  On a rainy day birding over the weekend, I was excited to spot this Great Horned Owl ( Bubo virginianus ) roosting in a willow at San Luis National Wildlife Refuge.  For me, there is something extra-special about seeing an owl in the wild.  Something in those eyes, the way they gaze so intently directly at you.  They really do inspire awe, and I can understand why owls are so often touted as being wise.  Can't you see the wild wisdom of the ages in this sage owl's expression?

Flurries of Snow Geese, that is!  Avian confetti!  Snow Geese, Ross's Geese, Greater White-fronted Geese and Cackling Geese swirl in the air at the San Joaquin  River National Wildlife Refuge, viewed from the platform on Beckwith Road. That wonderful time of year is upon us, when our arctic visitors descend on the Great Central Valley, blanketing wetland refuges with our own unique version of "snow."  Snow Geese ( Chen caerulescens ) and similar Ross's Geese ( Chen rossii ) arrive by the thousands, their numbers peaking in January.  Stirred up by a perceived threat, or coming in to roost for the evening, Snow and Ross's Geese rise into the air, mixing with Cackling Geese ( Branta hutchinsii ) and Greater White-fronted Geese ( Anser albifrons ) to create a swirling mass of avian confetti, whirling above the fortunate observer and raising a din that can be heard for miles. Central Valley "snow." Snow Geese breed on the tundra in Canada an

My first introduction to Dark-eyed Juncos was in May a couple of years ago, at Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park in the Santa Cruz area.  The man who told me what they were called seemed pretty unimpressed by them, kind of the way I, a spoiled Californian birder, would describe our endemic tropical-looking Yellow-billed Magpie to someone from, well, literally any other state.  This man was from San Francisco, where Dark-eyed Juncos flock to backyard birdfeeders year-round; I am from the Central Valley, where they only visit during the winter, and I had apparently not yet noticed them at that time.  It was a new bird for my life list that day, so I was thrilled!  I was charmed by these little hooded sparrows, hopping along on the ground.  After seeing them in the redwoods, I started noticing Dark-eyed Juncos more often.  I saw them in the Sierras, both east and west of the crest, during the summer.  And just recently, on Thanksgiving Day, I spotted a flock of these lovely little birds

It's a special treat each year when White-crowned Sparrows ( Zonotrichia leucophrys ) show up in the Great Central Valley.  These lively little birds make a lovely winter addition to our local avifauna, and my family sometimes call them "Christmas tree birds," as they remind us of old-fashioned spun cotton bird ornaments.  Small and quick, White-crowned Sparrows may first be mistaken for "just another little brown bird," but upon closer inspection you will notice the striking black-and-white stripes on this little bird's head which gave rise to its common name.  White-crowned Sparrows are year-round residents of the Sierra Nevada (and central coast region of California) venturing down-slope into the Central Valley as the weather changes in the fall; they are summer breeders in Alaska and Canada as well, wintering over much of the United States.  Preferred habitat includes tangled brushy areas, from true wilderness to city parks and backyards.  They are

The Christmas season is upon us!  Evergreen trees, bright red berries, pinecones, sparkling snow and... mountains of crumpled wrapping paper?  Though it might be economic heresy to say it, our country's consumer habits are out of control.  I don't claim to be an economist, but I can tell you a little bit about what our consumer mentality has done to both our personal happiness and the wellbeing of the environment.   A snowy walk through the woods: perfection for a naturalist, and 100% free of consumerism.   First, we have to realize that we are being taken gross advantage of by marketing and advertising.  Companies know that American consumers don't really care what the product is, we only care how it is marketed to us.  Is it faster?  Bigger?  Shinier?  Easier?  Better?  Anything to make us look cooler, thinner, stronger, smarter, better .  Americans want it, and they can't shell out the dough fast enough to get it, whatever "it"

  On our recent trip out to the Merced National Wildlife Refuge, one lovely Desert Cottontail ( Sylvilagus audubonii ) ventured across our path, nibbling on some greenery and twigs and seeming pretty unconcerned about our presence.    Some are surprised to learn that the most commonly seen rabbit in these parts (California's Great Central Valley) is the Desert Cottontail.  I remind them that our valley is technically not that far removed from a desert... and that this lagomorph is pretty adaptable, ranging from North Dakota and Montana south to Texas and Mexico, and west to California.  (It is absent from the Sierra Nevada, Cascade and northern Coast ranges, as well as Oregon, Washington and Idaho.)  Their preferred habitat is varied, but predominately consists of dry lowlands (below about 6,000 feet) including grasslands, brushy areas and pinyon-juniper woodlands as well as deserts.     Desert Cottontails are larger than the similar Br