Most of us who have lived in the Sacramento Valley for at least four seasons have had a few of those “magical moments” like:
• Driving along a country road in winter, suddenly you spot what looks like 1,000 swans in a flooded rice field.
• At Llano Seco Wildlife Refuge on a clear, cold day: so many white snow geese you can barely hear your conversation.
• Camping at a place like McCloud Lake or Eagle Lake: a bald eagle or an osprey suddenly glides over the tree line.
I’m not a birder, but magic like this can happen even when you are just minding your own business.
I have more than a few friends who keep lists of these things and plan adventures so they can check more birds off their list. Some of these folks throw around the big “O” word ––ornithologist. They can rattle off the bird names (sometimes in Latin), and isolate the scream of a hawk and distinguish among the more than 100 warblers.
I love learning new things, but I also forget as much as I remember. I carry binoculars in the back of my car, but I’m just as likely to hike to the top of a hill and realize I left the binoculars behind.
Some bird details have remained in my memory. I will always know the call of the cormorant — the sometimes incessant call of the cormorant — which kept my family awake when we stayed overnight at Safari West near Santa Rosa. The sound of the ubiquitous scrub jay is easy remember, because they squawk at your cat, or the passing dogs or at each other. If in doubt, I can talk to my phone and find a website of bird calls and check if my guess is right.
Last week, I gladly accepted the invite for a visit to Llano Seco Wildlife Refuge on Seven-Mile Lane. Joseph said the trickle of water had just begun to flood the land and the sandhill cranes had stopped for a visit. On this same day we saw the blackbirds with the red dot on their wings and Joseph isolated the sound of meadowlarks.
The Canada geese were among the many, which did not surprise me. If there is a nice place for birds, Canada geese bully their way into the mix, honking and hissing.
“I have a resentment against Canada geese,” I said.
I backed up my conviction with stories of Canada geese chasing toddlers and grass littered with so many goose droppings it was impossible to lay down a blanket for a picnic.
However, this day was all about the cranes.
The birds, which stand taller than blue herons, move south through the Central Valley from their nesting spots in the the upper regions of Canada and Alaska. They like wide-open prairies and soggy puddles. To add a little romantic note: they mate for life. Sandhill cranes are easy to identify, even for an amateur like me, because they have a burgundy splotch on their foreheads. This time I had remembered to bring my binoculars.
From a distance, you might see the birds hopping in the air, fwapping their wings. It’s a mating ritual, but they also fwap year round, perhaps just to flirt.
Other birds spotted that day included greater yellowings and Western meadowlark, I was told.
The water will inch up day-by-day until this gem of a location becomes a shallow lake, luring ducks such as northern pintail, northern shovelers and gadwalls, my bird guide predicted.
The more visiting birds, the more predator birds, and some might get lucky and spot a bald eagle.
Garden enthusiast Heather Hacking loves when you share what’s growing on. Reach out at sowtheregardencolumn@gmail.com, and snail mail at P.O. Box 5166, Chico CA 95927.
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