Two milestones in March of this year (2021): approval of my Certificate of Occupancy for my home and the completion of my pond. Each had its obstacles: cutting thru red tape at the County, to breaking ground, literally, for the soon-to-be watering hole.
My little pond is not an architectural wonder, I designed and built it myself – enough said. At one end I built a hibernaculum by stacking two wooden pallets and stuffing rocks and branches between the slits, covered them with soil, then laid out the plants. Tiered flagstone allowed access to openings at the side facing the edge of the pond for critters to explore or take up residence. All of this was topped off with a contorted chunk of wood that was found below my lot.
At the same end a large, partially submerged branch ran up to one side of the pond, opposite, several smaller limbs broke the surface. These were anchored among the rocks that lined the bottom along with several papyrus plants. A small fountain was placed to aerate the water and the final touch, a garnishing of water hyacinth. “Let’s see what shows up!”
As it was still mid-March, the seed feeder still attracted numerous Fringillid species. I hoped to entice the wintering sparrows by placing a ceramic plate to trap the rivulets of spouting water. My first participant was a pair of House finches. They are the most numerous, constantly bickering over who has first dibs at the feeder – and now, “To wait in line to bathe? Unheard of!”
White-crowned sparrows followed suit, albeit with a little hesitancy. A bird would land at the furthest part of the pond and scuttle its way intermittently towards the pan. As it neared it would stand more erect, as if attempting to have a peek inside the dish. Some birds would flutter their wings, as if in anticipation of water running through its feathers. “They’ll come around soon.”
Sure enough, it did not take long for the regulars to zip straight in for a sip of water and then take the plunge. Lesser goldfinch added more color to the scene, always arriving in pairs. Generally, the male was the first one in followed by his partner, still, he made it clear to keep her distance – “Chauvinist!”
When it got crowded, the birds tolerated four birds at any given time with a bird hanging on the rim waiting to join in on the festivities. However, there were times when it was, "Every bird for themselves!" These three species were the most abundant until the end of April, when the sparrow’s skipped town and headed north to their breeding grounds.
The bright red color of a male finch quickly becomes subdued after a good soaking; it looked quite solemn - rather pathetic, actually. The finery of its feathers now appeared matted, as if glued into clumps. Its body had an overall gray and black color with only hints of red pigment, as if it had been washed away!
A Spotted towhee showed up again but seemed reluctant to take part. I have seen it enjoy a bath at a local park but this one here was still holding back. I had hopes as it gravitated to the submerged log, preferring something more natural, perhaps? “Not today!” he made a feeble attempt before bursting out a sharp, “Teek!” with a quick exit.
Now in full breeding plumage, two Golden-crowned sparrows were still making daily visits for food, perhaps there will be a need for a refreshing drink or a soothing bath?
This was my general thought each day for any species, especially when a new migrant was seen or heard nearby. Today’s surprise was a Hermit thrush. In the earlier part of February I was fortunate to have four come round but it was today that I captured one preparing for another dunk. It chose the more private approach into the water by descending the length of the log. This was my preference as well, capturing a bird’s image against a more natural setting.
Similar opportunities just come flying in, literally, like this Band-tailed pigeon. I was fortunate to have just finished pre-focusing my equipment when I saw this monster sailing in. As you can see I had my telephoto lens at its full 500mm extension and managed to give the poor fella a frontal lobotomy!
It did stay long enough for me to pull back and get a decent image.
Today I was delighted to see the Audubon’s warblers take the plunge. “It’s about time!” These colorful sprites are regular winter residents and now the males are looking quite impressive in their breeding plumage. The majority would alight on the flagstone edging and migrate to one of the protruding sticks.
Soon, probably because of sheer numbers, others would hop onto the log or make a beeline to the pan. Speaking of which, honeybees began to utilize the water hyacinth as platforms to slake their thirst. At first it was a welcomed event, but with an increase in numbers, it became annoying.
Now that it seems my little watering hole has channeled its way into the avian community, I decided to prepare each morning in anticipation of more activity. From inside the house, I opened my front door just wide enough to allow my 200-500mm / f5.6 lens to maneuver from a pre-focused position on the log, where incoming birds would land, and to swing into position for the watering dish. The tripod legs supported an erect, flattened cardboard box to about chest high, just beneath the ball head mount. I draped a thin jacket/sweater over the lens to conceal the rest of my body. This makeshift blind concealed my movements and performed exceptionally well. The use of a flash would, at times, disturb some of the birds. In time, I learned which species were more sensitive to the burst of light than others, however, there were always exceptions.
While eating breakfast, I heard the chatting of a Hooded oriole – another bonus for having the door open. The females were less skittish and bathed much more regularly than the males. I raced over to position myself and turned on the flash as the sun was not yet high enough. Seconds later a beautiful male landed atop the log, my preparations allowed for some good shots. A female dropped in several times, landed once for a millisecond, but circled nervously before landing on a rock near the dish; she eventually took the plunge. Her actions seemed to alert the finches that it was safe to partake and so in came goldfinches, a California towhee, and a pair of House finches. The sharp ‘spik!’ call of a grosbeak in a nearby tree got me excited but it never made an entrance.
As the afternoon progressed, I was hoping for some new arrivals today. There were only a few hours left of daylight when a starling came down for a look. Ok, different, but not something to get excited about. In usual fashion, an Anna’s hummingbird hovered over the fountain. This time, however, it landed, not in the pan but on the stone that it was based. It was saturated from water splashing off its surface, and this little tyke simply flattened itself and rolled, flitted, and twisted every which way as its long needle-like tongue darted in and out. You could not help feeling its exuberance. “How could something trounce this?”
That’s when a striking male Black-throated grey warbler came for a visit; he bounced first from the log to one rock, then another, but was simply too nervous to hang around. “Maybe next time.”
It was early April, the chilly morning breeze often had me donning a jacket. Bluebirds were already feeding hungry mouths, so its blazing blue appearance was very short-lived. Yellow-rump’s appear to be more numerous, as a pair frolic like children in a puddle of water. Later, another Anna’s hummingbird bobs and weaves around the fountain of water; reflecting the late afternoon sun, its crimson gorget explodes with color amid shimmering spheres of glass.
Another Black-throated grey drops in, but again, overly anxious and before you know it, off he goes! It has been just over a week into the month and this feathered festivity felt like a prelude for more interesting performances. Earlier, the Mourning doves landed beyond the pond. Nervously they would wind their way towards the water, instantly exploding into the air at the slightest irregularity. Now, it was a more direct landing onto the hyacinth or adjoining log. These birds held their bills beneath the water line and maintained suction to obtain a drink.
All the other birds used a scooping motion, like a shovel, then raised their heads skyward. This is something the finches, goldfinches and sparrows promptly did once reaching the water, whether they bathed afterward or not. Once they did fully saturate their feathers, I wondered if some of the birds would be able to get airborne – as they looked like a tangled, knotted mess!
Brittlebush. There were several scattered across my lot. The stalks of yellow flowers jut out from the mass of silvery-gray foliage, with each brilliant yellow bouquet swaying to the rhythm of the wind. Each rounded crown hosted a variety of bees, flies, and beetles.
I decided to switch to my 105mm f/2.8 macro lens, and promptly dive right into this floral landscape. The honeybees were a bit more lethargic than their native kin. Besides, I wanted to get some nice images of our indigenous bees.
Due to their erratic movements, it is nearly impossible to get an I.D. without collecting one of the critters. Fortunately, digital cameras and software has led to a tremendous contribution in this field. Besides, I do like to know what I am taking a picture of, right? Still, the best I could do with the sweat bees is narrow it down to its family Halictidae, sweat bees.
I am leaning towards Agapostemon, Halictus and lastly Lasioglossum – this genus has the highest number of bee species in the world. More research is required.
April 10: Another Black-throated gray, along with the usual patrons, plus Eurasian collared-dove,
Orange-crowned warbler, California quail and a Myrtle warbler. The dove and quails were ‘looky-loos,’ the Myrtle approached a tad closer, but the Orange-crown? This bird made several fly-by’s and once satisfied, flew straight to the dish, promptly relished its choice and by the time it finished, the bird was barely recognizable.
I had heard Bullock’s orioles and the buzzy chip note of a bunting in my Eucalyptus trees the other day. The low light conditions highlighted two of my largest trees. I went upstairs onto my balcony with my gear to see what might show up. A couple of grosbeaks were the first to reveal themselves, then a Hooded oriole.
A female Bullock's oriole flew in soon to be
joined by her mate. This would become a general pattern of mine as the month progressed. I discovered the birds would forage in the area’s trees at the crack of dawn with the pond becoming most active between 8:30 and 10. On the other end, two hours before sunset were ideal.
O.K., back downstairs, make-shift blind all set up, “Let’s see what comes in!” Finches were already present, with a newcomer, a nice male Black-headed grosbeak; he popped up from behind the partially submerged log. However, an inbound Mourning dove scared him off; another dove flew in, and both hastily got their fill, then with a sudden ‘Clap!’ a swift departure under whistling wings. Just as quickly came silence. Only the repetitive, tumbling notes of a distant mockingbird could be heard. Then it was a feeble ‘chip’ call coming from one of my Gum trees – Chipping sparrow? I repositioned myself and anticipated its arrival. “Nice!” It eyed the water from the rock ledge before hopping onto the log trailing to the water. It spent some time in the water, seemingly satisfied before flying back into the tree for a proper preening.
A Western fence lizard was exploiting the heat of the river rocks that defined the periphery of the pond. These fellas were very common around my property and quite entertaining. The males would perform several push-ups, then pause on the upward motion to expose the deep blue color of its sides and inflated throat. I noticed a flash of yellow in my peripheral vision. Another female Hooded oriole? What I thought was another oriole turned out to be
one very worrisome Wilson’s warbler; he circumnavigated the pond, the dish of water, the plants; he just could not, literally, settle down.
Next day: “I just missed a Bullock’s... ...male!” I could kick myself! A female splashing away in the bowl grabbed my attention, so I failed to see her mate proudly displaying his orange and black attire from a nearby branch.
“Oh well.” His lady friend stole the show anyway; she just could not get enough enjoyment; wings all a flutter, twisting her head round as she curtsied under water, all the while flinging droplets of water into the air. Of all the species of birds, she seemed to take the most pleasure and time in bathing.
A Black-headed grosbeak followed her lead from atop the water hyacinth at the opposite end of the pool. Another could not be bothered with all the fussing and simply parked herself under the fountain and let the drops rain down.
Just above, her cohort stood vigil.
For the past couple of weeks, as the
day ended an evening serenade
would commence, courtesy a California treefrog (Pseudacris cadaverina). Through the years I found them in my potted plants alongside the house. I like to think it will become a permanent pond resident – perhaps it will find a mate!
Tonight, however, it had some competition – immersed within the hyacinth were a pair of Western toads. They were much larger than the frog but its repetitive “plink” song was quite feeble. I introduced Gambusia affinis, Mosquito fish, but now it worries me, “Will they consume the newly hatched tadpoles?” The fish are cannibalistic, after all.
California quail were abundant this year. They have toured the grounds on multiple occasions. Today a more inquisitive pair came for a visit. From atop the log the male scanned for any potential threats, as his partner, with some apprehension, finally strutted down towards the water to have a drink. The birds came round regularly, but this was the only time I saw one drink.
Another bird that flew in regularly was a Cassin’s kingbird. It perched on top of the land-locked stump, but I never saw it down in the water.
It seemed to be the case for the male Hooded oriole until one ‘finally’ flew to the dish while I was standing behind the camera – “Got it!” Grosbeaks were peaking with their presence, and I was anxiously waiting for a Western tanager to make its mark. A few birds last week swept across the arena, but I never saw any take center stage. “Patience, young man.”
Third week in and I awake to the usual jumble of songs and calls from a variety of birds, except that it is coming from only one source – a Mockingbird. What really pikes my curiosity is the bubbly call notes from multiple tanagers. Grabbing my camera and foam pad, I had out to the balcony. A soft orange hue emanates from the eucalyptus leaves as intermittent flashes of yellow burst forth in pursuit of insect prey.
Placing the foam pad over the glass panel, I rest my elbow to steady the camera and do my best to capture the action. I count eleven tanagers, of which all but two were males. Grosbeaks and orioles join the ensemble.
Insects are drawn to the sap, especially to the conical-shaped shelters of the Red
gum lerp psyllid insects (Glycaspis brimblecombei, a plant sucking monophagus (feeds on a single plant) insect listed in the same group as whiteflies and aphids.) found on the underside of the leaves, these, the birds cherish.
Last year there was an intense outbreak, and the stress of an extremely hot summer resulted in a loss of more than fifty percent of their leaves! ( Hey, I had plenty of compost material.) They survived with some die-off of a few limbs, of which the woodpeckers took to with considerable delight.
April 23 & 24: At the time, I did not realize these would be the last days for this month’s observations. Warmer temps from south easterly winds had me looking forward to some exciting encounters – and sure enough, a Townsend’s warbler drops in – finally! The strong contrasting yellow and black facial pattern becomes even more intense when viewed
head-on!
I was expecting more species of warblers by now based on past years’ sightings. The Yellow-rump warblers were here for the winter and Orange-crowned is resident. Yellow and Nashville warblers should have been here by now and I always hope for a Hermit warbler, although it is more likely to begin appearing in another week. A Wilson’s warbler finally takes a dip. I so hoped that the Townsend’s would follow suit – not today. Lesser goldfinches were always present, any time of day; they took avian hygiene to another level. Later that afternoon a Cassin’s kingbird and Chipping sparrow made a brief entrance. My day ends when several Hooded orioles flash onto the scene, their brilliant feathers complimenting the amber colors of a setting sun.
Next day, the turquoise blue of a bunting flies down with the sky and brings with it a rainbow of grosbeaks and tanagers, orioles, and finches. The only gray was a Mockingbird coming in to quickly slake its thirst. More blue splashed onto the canvas with a Western jay capering in the pool.
However, it was hard not to fixate on the Lazuli bunting’s arrival; with its sky-blue head and throat, rust-colored chest, and cottony white belly.
Soon, scattered about like fiery embers, several tanagers light up the scene. One brilliant male alights on the trunk acting like a beacon as it overlooks the pool, now painted green with vegetation.
Pairs of Black-headed grosbeaks eagerly await their turn, ruffling feathers and flicking their wings. Feather maintenance is crucial. After a satisfying dip it is up into the tree to find a secluded spot for a good preening; to clean, oil and realign their feathers.
My hummingbird feeders are busiest from mid-October to mid-May. These months I put out three of them with some days hosting a dozen or more birds of 4-5 species! This in turn has provided some photo ops at my little oasis. Today’s visitor was a male Costa’s Hummingbird; he just wanted a drink.
What was most entertaining for me, however, was the 'inactivity' of a female Anna’s. Each time I walk past my gear, I pause briefly to peer out the door in hope of capturing some action. I finally noticed her sitting on a stone, tucked alongside the dish, head slightly tilted upward and not moving. I swung the camera to focus in; her feathers were fluffed up shimmering with tiny droplets and with her eyes closed, you could not a find finer example of contentment.
Another pairing, this time, literally, was the joint cleansing of an oriole and a tanager. The young Bullock’s was having a grand ole time splashing about when in flew a female tanager, a gray morph, overall, a drabber bird. The photo I took shows him with bill opened wide, glaring at her as if saying, “How dare you interfere with my privacy!” She, on the other hand shows no affect whatsoever.
Each day has the usual gang of finches presiding. One of the California towhees took to the water with such vigor that it slipped several times from its branch for a complete drenching. Standing on a piece of flagstone, it could easily be mistaken for a dirty rag that was tossed and forgotten!
I was pleased to finally have a Nuttall’s woodpecker fly in; he landed abruptly on the chunk of timber, hopped his way slowly down the stones, eventually ending on the sunken bough. A few jerky head bobs and in he went.
Then, back up to his post he goes for a nice rub down. You cannot help but become a part of the moment.
Birds in Black! For the past few days, flights of crows and visits from a raven pair marked the start of each day. A Red-tailed hawk made the mistake of landing in the neighborhood and was quickly harassed into making a quick departure. Out on the balcony, scanning the trees, I found my first Yellow warbler, a nice male that soon burst into song. A look towards the pond reveals an old face, a Black phoebe; he actually ‘was’ the first pond visitor, arriving even before the spigot was turned on.
The highlight came from a satiny-black Phainopepla, posing atop the log. The good/bad of the moment was the red car parked in the background. At least it complemented the bird’s eyes during its photo shoot!
I am fortunate to have a family of Acorn woodpeckers year-round. Finally, one came down approaching in characteristic herky-jerky fashion, had a drink and took a bath. “Ahh!”
Also, it was my first observance of the Mourning doves partaking in the revelry. Rather than fluff, shake it up and flap their wings, a more subdued approach is taken by sauntering to the waterline, slowly ease in, and sit awhile. The final action came with the raising of one wing and, “Strike a pose!”
One of my lasting memories at the water dish was of a female Hooded oriole. After hunkering down and being completely immersed, she hopped up on her feet, completely soaked, looking as if she had on a pair of wet, oversized cargo shorts! "Bird legs!" indeed.
Migration this year was enhanced with the addition of this tiny oasis in the foothills of Orange County. Suffice to say it is still a work in progress, but the effort has already given me more pleasure than I thought possible. Good thing I chose my vacation for April and May. So, if you can, keep an ear towards an open door or window, scan your trees, focus, and embrace the moment!
Location: Orange County, California USA
Date: Spring of 2021
Check out an updated blog of my pond experiences: "Orange County Oasis"
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