Natural History Journal

Winter may be a cold and dreary time of year across most of North America, when trees are bare and skies are gray, but here in California's Great Central Valley, winter is an excellent time for birding and exploring the woods and wetlands close to home.  Because despite the cold, the birds are out there in abundance! Last week, while birding at the San Joaquin River National Wildlife Refuge, I was delighted to encounter quite a few Blue-gray Gnatcatchers out and about along the trail.  These little dynamos were out in force all day, calling emphatically from the shrubby growth as they flitted actively from twig to twig. Blue-gray Gnatcatcher These little birds' small size (they're only about four inches long), active habits and predilection for staying deep in their shrubby habitat can make them difficult to get good looks at, much less photograph!  (Just take a look at how unsuccessful I have been in the past !)  But this guy was pretty cooperative, moving about and foragi

With all the less-than-great news floating around out there these days about the future of the environment in general, and birds in particular, it's refreshing to pause and reflect on the success stories the world of conservation has seen in the fifty years since the implementation of the Endangered Species Act in December of 1973. While human activity has undoubtedly caused bird populations to decrease drastically in that span of time, (and sadly those numbers may continue to drop) conservationists across North America have managed to make some pretty incredible changes for the better for a number of species as well.  The Endangered Species Act has protected over 1,600 species in its fifty-year history, and is credited with saving nearly 300 species from extinction.     The California Condor is one such example, a species that would be gone today if it weren't for the incredible work of a massive team of researchers and conservationists.  Other success stories include those

For your daily dose of adorable, and to liven up the dreary days of winter, have a look at this family of Pygmy Nuthatches I encountered last July while birding on the coast near Carmel! Juvenile Pygmy Nuthatch in a Monterey Cypress Tipping the tiny scales at about one-third of an ounce (or around nine grams, the equivalent weight of nine paperclips), Pygmy Nuthatches are the smallest of the four North American species of nuthatch.  Though small, these little mites of the pines make their presence known as they call to each other with an incessant series of high-pitched piping notes that has been likened to a rubber ducky being squeezed.  Often, this sound pelting down from the treetops is the first indication that these active little birds are in the area. Juvenile Pygmy Nuthatch, begging for food. Juvenile Pygmy Nuthatch, awaiting its meal delivery. Pygmy Nuthatches do everything together: they breed cooperatively, with relatives helping a mated pair raise its brood of up to nine yo

Christened the "Rocky Mountain Plover" in 1834 by John James Audubon, the Mountain Plover, as it is now called, is actually a bird of short grass prairies rather than true mountain habitats.  Named for its breeding range in the Rocky Mountain region of the United States, specifically in parts of Colorado, Wyoming and Montana, a large percentage of Mountain Plovers spend a significant portion of their lives in California, where they winter on remnants of grassland, alkali flats and, most notably, plowed and fallow agricultural fields. The Mountain Plover is a habitat specialist, adapted to life on short grass prairies and other areas of bare ground and sparse coverings of very short vegetation.   And in California, the bare ground that Mountain Plovers need to survive is rapidly dwindling. Mountain Plover, Yolo County California, January Almost exclusively insectivorous, Mountain Plovers spend their entire lives on the ground, scurrying along with a distinctive run-and-stop st