On this Friday morning, I urged my mother to wake up and join me to go birding at the Palo Alto Baylands, an extensive salt marsh, home to many interesting birds, just waiting to be discovered. I brought my binoculars and spotting scope, and she brought her 200mm zoom Nikon camera. We weren't after any specific species, we just simply wanted to bird and enjoy the nice weather. Many people only go out birding to chase a vagrant that has been recently sighted. Birding just to bird and to appreciate our local avifauna is frequently overlooked. Some people don't even bother to put their binoculars up to get a crystal clear view of a singing House Finch, an abundant yet beautiful passerine. That is what this post is about, enjoying the common birds that are dismissed as mundane and borderline "boring".
We arrived later than expected due to my lack of attention while driving and missing the exit, but we quickly fixed my mistake and arrived about 8 minutes later. Once we arrived, a singing Northern Mockingbird greeted us with its sonorous song that poured out of the mimid. We walked along the trail admiring the singing Savannah Sparrows and the myriad swallows flitting freely in the sky above us. There were dozens of Barn Swallows, several Tree Swallows, but the majority of them were Cliff Swallows, small white-fronted swallows with a rusty-colored rump. These were the ones that captivated me. Everywhere I looked, rusty rumps and white fronts beset me. I had seen these birds myriad times before, but something about these birds made me want to appreciate them more. I began ignoring the rest of the birds in the area and focused on the volatile and flighty Cliff Swallows.
Belonging to the group Hirundinidae, Cliff Swallows (Petrochelidon pyrrhonota) are related to other species of swallows such as Barn or Tree Swallows, but are most closely related to their primarily Carribean counterpart, the Cave Swallows, of the same genus: Petrochelidon. Cliff Swallows are migratory species that spend their winters in South America, where small airborne insects (their primary food source) abound. However, at the end of March and beginning of April, this species leaves its wintering grounds to migrate back to North America to breed. This bird's North American range goes from Alaska, throughout much of Canada and the Lower 48, and down to southern Mexico. That is quite a trip to have to do twice a year, especially for a bird weighing less than 0.8 oz (21 g). As I just mentioned, they make this biannual and arduous voyage with the intent on finding a mate, and it was this activity that I was fortunate enough to witness.
We began crossing a bridge, that funnelled water from the bay to the various canals and tributaries in the salt marsh. I looked over the side facing the bay, and saw more swallow activity. Dozens of Cliff Swallows flew in and out from underneath the eave of the concrete bridge. I would've tried to put my binoculars up to see the birds a little better, but we were at such proximity that my optics wouldn't have provided much help at all. Au contraire, doing so would've made everything so much more difficult seeing how swallows are quick fliers with rapid wingbeats and volatile, unexpected flight patterns. However, while I admired these busy birds with the naked eye, my mother struggled to get decent photos of them. I warned her that photographing swallows is an exasperating and irritating task, that can quickly get somebody to start pulling their hair out. Despite my caveat, she persisted and was determined to get a clear shot of one the birds. I then told her that the only way she would be able to do so was if they were courteous enough as to perch on a wire, long enough to photograph them, or to try to get views of the underside of the bridge, to capture them perched on their cup-like mud-nests. Because none were courteous enough to pose for us, we decided to go with the latter. We walked down closer to the water, where we would be lower and would have better views of the nests. I ducked and was then amazed with what I saw. There were about ten nests in the middle of construction, each with their winged architects supplying the proper equipment with which they would be able to work with.
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| Cliff Swallow hard at work (notice the white front, bluish crown and reddish cheeks) |
The group Hirudinidae is composed of a variety of swallow species, each with their own special traits. One of the most variable traits of this group are the type of nests each species occupies. Tree Swallows will nest in abandoned cavities in trees, Bank Swallows will dig 3-foot deep burrows above or near river banks and other bodies of water, and Barn Swallows will build nests with sticks and other pliable and malleable material in old dilapidated buildings, such as barns (notice how each bird's name represents where each species nests). Cliff Swallows are different from the other species, in that they build their nests on the sides of walls and rockfaces. These bowl-shaped nests are made out of a very effective mixture of mud and saliva. These birds will drop to the ground and pick up as much mud as they can fit in their bill, fly back to their construction site and add more and more to what they already started. This demanding task is not finished overnight, but actually takes several days, perhaps even several weeks to complete. They need to keep on adding layers, each longer than the last, until the cup is suitably large enough to support and prevent from dropping its precious clutch of eggs.
It was fascinating watching these birds actively building their nests. Not only was I giddy from having witnessed this yearly ritual of theirs, but I was also glad to hear that my mother got great shots of these birds that we previously labeled as "impossible to photograph". We realized it was time for us to depart, and so we left our busy contractors to their fastidious duties.
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| Cliff Swallow (notice the white front, the bluish crown, and the reddish cheeks and throat) |
Before leaving, we went to another part of the Palo Alto Baylands, to see what there was to see there. I didn't believe in déja-vu prior to my visit to the baylands, but that was until I opened my car door, when I heard another Northern Mockingbird singing away. As I listened to its eclectic song, I noticed more swallows flying, but these ones were flying in and out from underneath the eave of the ranger station. The enticing activity piqued our curiosity, so we headed towards the building. To our delight, we found many more Cliff Swallows working hard on their nests, just like the ones underneath the bridge. However, what was even more interesting about these views were that we were right under the birds, which offered even better views than the previous ones. We were able to really relish in the swallow construction ambiance. These birds had surprising personnalities: some frequently bickered and chased each other, some got along quite well and ignored the pugnacious individuals... It was the equivalent of an avian soap-opera. Another advantage of these views from below were that they offered interesting photography opportunities:
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| Interesting Angle of a Cliff Swallow (notice the rusty rump, and reddish cheeks and throat) |
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| Cliff Swallow on the foundation of its nest (notice the white front, the rusty rump, and the reddish cheeks and throat) |
Cliff Swallows are harbingers of spring and the beginning of migration. Once they arrive, Cliff Swallows become abundant in the appropriate habitat, arriving in the hundreds, perhaps thousands in some locations. Nonetheless, these are magnificent creatures with fantastic stories to tell, whether of their intercontinental flights, or their remarkable nest construction. Many birders would quickly jot down CLSW on their notepad and go on with their day looking for rarer birds. Although finding rare vagrants is quite exciting and enthralling, that doesn't mean the "lesser" and more common ones should be any less appreciated. These common birds are the ones that got me into birding in the first place, and I thank these mundane birds everyday, for I certainly wouldn't be the man I am today without them.
Good birding to all, and remember to acknowledge Dark-eyed Junco hopping on your lawn, the Bushtits that gregariously pass through one bush to the next, and the Western Scrub-Jays that you have to blame for your migraines.
