[Not] My First Summer In The Sierra

Okay, so technically it's not quite summer yet.  But that detail aside, the weather was beautifully warm, the meadows were green, the waterfalls were roaring, and the birds were singing their hearts out on a recent trip to Yosemite National Park.  

Following John Muir's historic route from the Central Valley up through Coulterville and Greeley Hill, and finally into Yosemite, we made our way up into the cool green cathedral that is the Sierra Nevada.  For the nth time, I thanked God for his glorious creation, and for situating me so near to these mountains, that I might marvel at his divine power on display at such a massive scale on a regular basis.  And, not least of all, I thanked God for giving us time to get out and enjoy it!

During four days of hiking and birding, and three nights of camping, we encountered abundant breath-taking mountain scenery at every turn, and a total of 60 species of birds.  Here are just a few of my favorite photos from the trip!  

Townsend's Solitaires, on the Merced Grove trail.  Presumably this was a male and female pair, as they continually chortled softly to each other throughout the ten or so minutes we watched them.



Further down the Merced Grove trail, we first heard, then spotted this singing Cassin's Vireo.



After struggling to find parking (a Yosemite Valley experience that would cause John Muir to weep), I was delighted to snag a shady spot right by a singing male MacGillivray's Warbler!  Always be sure to bird the parking lot!!



Always a challenge for me to find, Pacific-slope Flycatchers are more often heard than seen, calling out their "Hey you!" call from the trees.  The Merced Grove trail proved to be productive for all the flycatchers: Olive-sided Flycatchers and Western Wood-pewees called in the distance (but remained unseen), while Dusky and Hammond's Flycatchers both showed themselves, in their respective preferred habitats (Dusky in an open, recently-burned of second-growth on one side of the trail, Hammond's deep in the forest on the other).  These two Empids look almost identical (to me) and are best identified by voice.  Happily, they were not shy about calling repeatedly!  



Steller's Jays, the bold and beautifully "blue jays" of western forests, are never far from picnic areas and campgrounds in the Sierra! 



Filling the forests with their lovely operatic song (and sneaker-squeak calls), Black-headed Grosbeaks seemed to be everywhere in and around Yosemite, from quiet trails to busy picnic areas.  They were especially abundant in our campground!



The American Robins of the Sierra are known for their stellar dawn chorus performance.  Although, as Eric pointed out, they begin singing well before dawn, while it is very definitely still dark.  The entire forest seems to explode with robin song during the hour or so before sunrise... and then they go quiet, as other singers take over: Black-headed Grosbeaks, Western Tanagers, and Dark-eyed Juncos, to name just a few.  The dawn chorus is, quite possibly, my favorite part of camping!  The area around our campsite burned during the Rim Fire of 2013, and the resulting standing dead trees provided attractive habitat for White-headed, Hairy and Pileated Woodpeckers, while the shrubby second-growth provided ample habitat for Mountain Quail, whose delightful calls rang out from the woods all around us!  The wild calls of Pileated Woodpeckers and Mountain Quail certainly added an extra element to the morning birdsong!



Don't overlook the little guys!  The high pitched jumbled song of a Brown Creeper, and the cascade of notes nearly at the edge of human hearing that is the song of the Golden-crowned Kinglet, have their place in the coniferous forests as well.  Also from on high descends the song of Hermit Warblers and the nearly constant nasal call of the Red-breasted Nuthatch.



And of course, I can't forget these incredible and so often overlooked birds, the Common Ravens.  These big birds patrol campgrounds and picnic areas regularly, but also soar above in the most remote reaches of the Sierra.  Their intelligence is something to be marveled over, and just look at those beautiful glossy feathers!  (I can't see this bird and not think of Anne Shirley (better known as Anne of Green Gables) and her desire that her red hair would instead be "a glorious black, black as the raven's wing."  This must be what she had in mind!)

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