#55: Cooper's Hawk - Famosa Slough, CA

I’ve mentioned before that I found a different suite of raptors in California than I see out east. For example, Turkey Vultures and Red-tailed Hawks are extremely uncommon out there (I only found one of each). But if there’s a day in North Carolina where you don’t see at least one of these magnificent birds soaring overhead, you know something’s wrong. I also found American Kestrels fairly common out west, and I’d often see one hovering in overhead even in the middle of the city. But I found myself most surprised by how many times I saw Cooper’s Hawks in San Diego.

Not only did I find a whole bunch of Cooper’s Hawks, but I also got great views each time. I remember one day at Cabrillo National Monument in Point Loma when I stood on a scenic overlook that jutted out from a cliff that ran down into a chaparral valley. A stiff breeze blew from the Pacific Ocean into San Diego Bay, and an immature Cooper’s Hawk took this opportunity to fly into the wind, soaring at eye level as he searched for prey down below. I even got to see them perched, like this immature individual who would fly low over the reeds at Famosa Slough.

Out east our Cooper’s Hawks are different. If you see one, it’s probably flying from one section of dense forest to another, passing over the path for a brief moment while just a couple feet off the ground. My best look at this species came while I was driving home from work one day. I saw a bird following the contours of the empty road, maybe six feet in the air. I sped up until I was going way faster than I should have been (not recommended), matching the hawk’s speed. For a split second, right outside my window, I watched an adult Cooper’s Hawk fly like not many people ever have. A hell of an experience, to say the least. And a hell of a bird.

#54: Anna's Hummingbird - Famosa Slough, CA

There’s something about our Ruby-throated Hummingbirds. Occasionally you’ll see them flitting into your hummingbird feeder if you’ve got one, but mostly they’re flying away from you, with a series of high-pitched squeaks being the only evidence to their presence. They’re small, skittish, and sprightly – and the complete opposite of West Coast hummers.

The most common hummingbird in San Diego was the large Anna’s Hummingbird, a bold, brash, and brazen bird that I easily located my first day out West.  As I walked along the path at Famosa Slough, I heard a husky squeal coming from a nearby bush. At the top, a female sat confidently, daring me to venture closer. I inched forward, and still the female Anna’s stood her ground until I was less than a couple feet away. Had this been one of our East Coast hummers, it would’ve bailed long ago. But this is California baby!

By the time James showed up, I knew exactly where to find him his lifer Anna’s. While we saw a few full-gorgeted males, they chose to stick to the tree-tops. The females, however, still proved audacious, and James was able to snap this photo while one hovered at a flower, completely unconcerned at the six-foot human watching a couple feet away. Why can’t more hummingbirds be like Anna’s?

#51: Bewick's Wren - Cabrillo National Monument, CA

Long ago, it was possible to find the Bewick’s Wren in North Carolina, high up in the Appalachians. Apparently, the expansion in range of the House and Carolina Wrens extirpated them as a breeding species from the state, which means that in order to get my lifer, I had to travel West. Much more West.

I distinctly remember my lifer. Just after visiting the second parking lot down by the tide pools at Cabrillo National Monument, I heard an odd song coming from the chaparral brush by the sea. It honestly sounded like a weird sparrow, a far cry from the melodic Carolina Wrens I get at home. Yet, sitting atop some evergreen was a wren, a Bewick’s Wren, singing away not feet away from a steep cliff-face.

I brought James back to Cabrillo to find multiple lifers, but the Bewick’s Wren eluded us for some time. We saw Cooper’s Hawks drifting just off a viewing platform, and a covey of California Quails running through the thick cover before I recognized its song once again. A little pishing later, and the wren was chattering quite close to us, yet never giving us those perfect looks. This seems to be commonplace with wrens, and I’m grateful to get the view I did. I had to travel all the way across the country to see it, which is kind of a shame considering they used to nest in the mountains of North Carolina. Species' populations are always in flux, and perhaps they’ll make their way back East on day, but until then – I’ll just have to be satisfied with the Bewick’s Wrens of San Diego!