Autumn On The Grasslands

Sunrise on the grasslands is a beautiful thing, particularly in autumn when the entire landscape, from horizon to horizon, seems made of gold.  On hazy, cloudless mornings, for just a few fleeting dawn moments, the sky and earth blend together, awash in pure amber light as if the clear dome of sky is an overturned cup, pouring its golden contents out onto the tawny horizon.  The effect is dazzling, leaving onlookers, tiny specks of humanity, breathless, swimming in a veritable sea of gold.  But my favorite mornings are those when great masses of rolling clouds await the dawn, filtering the clear light of sunrise into a thousand shades, from the lightest, brightest white and gold at its heart, to rose, salmon and coral, its fiery glow suffusing the dusky purple half-light with warmth and brilliance.

Photos (at least, my photos) don't do it justice.

Anyway, enough about the sunrise.  On to the birds!

While autumn is not exactly the "best" time of year out on California's grasslands (winter wins for its variety of raptors, and spring takes the cake, by far, for sheer verdant beauty and birdsong), fall is still an enchanting season in this oft-overlooked ecosystem.  Pay special attention to the colors: golden-browns and yellows are predominant, both in the flora and fauna represented in this ecosystem.  Nearly all of the key grassland birds are adorned in streaky tans, browns and creams, with yellow accents: a perfect compliment to the golden grasses and yellow wildflowers that take center stage at this time of year.

Burrowing Owls breed on California's grasslands, though they can be rather scarce and are certainly less numerous than they once were.  I spotted this little guy hanging out in a long-dry streambed, perfectly camouflaged with fawn-colored grasses and yellow tarweed flowers.

Burrowing Owl

Sparrows abound on grasslands, most of them washed in shades of tan, chocolate, cream, and gold, ideally suited to their arid habitat.  One of our smaller sparrows, the aptly-named Savannah Sparrow, is common and abundant in the grasslands.  They sing their thin song with gusto during the spring breeding season, inviting one and all to come and sit-sit-sit-its-breeeeezy.  But when the heat of summer kicks in, these little birds head for the hills (and more northerly latitudes).  From May through August, the grasslands are devoid of their sweet song.  Come September, these little sparrows start popping up all over the place, filling the grasslands once again with their soft lisping calls.  

Savannah Sparrow

Winter brings a host of new species to the grasslands.  While we have bid farewell to our dear friend the Grasshopper Sparrow, another streaky brown sparrow has just arrived: the Vesper Sparrow.  Heftier than the Savannah Sparrow, the Vesper Sparrow is easily distinguished by its white eyering, creamy malar stripe and white outer tail feathers.  This fella was obliging enough to perch for a minute or two on a barbed wire fence!  

Vesper Sparrow

No North American grassland is complete without meadowlarks.  Our Western Meadowlark fills the air with song pretty much year round - though the singing greatly intensifies during the breeding season.  The song of the meadowlark is, without a doubt, the soul of the grassland.

Most photos of these beautiful blackbird relatives showcase their brilliant chevron-emblazoned lemon-yellow breast.  But take a look at the delicate, intricately patterned feathers of this bird's back, humbly designed to melt into a background of dry grasses.  The brown back of this bird is no less beautiful, in my opinion, for its subtlety.  

Western Meadowlark

Another humble grassland dweller clothed in tan and yellow, the Horned Lark is known for its delightful tinkling song, which so often cascades down from the clear sky like fairy bells from an unseen source.  When they are not delivering their song from on high, Horned Larks tend to scuttle along sparsely vegetated patches of ground in a rather mouse-like fashion, their brown backs serving well to camouflage them against an earthen backdrop.  Watch a flock of these birds foraging on the ground for a few minutes: what at first glance appears to be one or two birds will turn into several dozen as these masters of disguise begin to materialize before your very eyes.  Pretend the cow pies in the photo below are buffalo chips, and you will get an idea of how critical large grazing mammals are to the health of grassland ecosystems: Horned Larks rely on grazers to maintain suitably short grass, their preferred habitat.  

Horned Lark

Equally at home in brushy grasslands and my own garden, Lesser Goldfinches are avid seedeaters.  Favorite seeds are those of plants in the aster family, and they are commonly found hanging around - literally - stands of sunflowers and other members of the aster family.  (In the photo below, they are doing everyone a favor by eating the seeds of highly invasive and much deplored yellow star thistle.)  Watching flocks of these little winged lemon drops is a delight, as they frequently cling precariously to thin, bending stalks, hanging upside down to pick seeds with their sharp bills.

Lesser Goldfinches

Our last grassland resident defies the dress code of tan and gold, and is instead attired in dapper gray and white, with black accents.  I couldn't help but notice how well the bird in the photo below matched the cool blues and moody grays of the cloudy dawn sky, a backdrop the shrike spends much time silhouetted against.  While shrikes are in fact songbirds, they behave more like miniature raptors, fierce hunters that prey on large insects, rodents, reptiles, and even small birds.  No scuttling about in the undergrowth for these tiny terrors of the grassland skies!

Loggerhead Shrike

And so, while the rest of the country is knee-deep in the glories of fall foliage, here in California's grasslands, we make do with what we have.  And what we have is truly gold.