"Sylvia's Sapsucker and other Feathered Wonders" (October 29, 2005)

One crisp morning last fall, I journeyed to the Oakland Hills to get a glimpse of a Williamson's sapsucker. It had been lingering upon a huge, venerable pine tree in Oakland resident Sylvia Sykora's backyard. Sylvia was kind enough to provide a chair on her back deck for observers to perch. The tree where the bird perched and fed was at least a hundred years old, and no doubt catnip to woodpeckers, judging from the extensive sapsucker sign (torn bark and drilled holes) all over its broad sides. Despite Sylvia's assurance that all comers had seen the bird that very morning, several minutes of sitting and staring up into the tree turned up no birds. Was I too late?

Then, I saw a bit of bark fall from the tree. Hmmmm, I thought. Straining my ear, I faintly heard the soft workings of a woodpecker. Rising and moving to the other sideof the tree, I observed the female Williamson's far up along the trunk, perched and pecking, its laddered, buffy back to me, and its stiff, forked tail balanced against the bark. I got tired of looking up long before she tired of her work. What a nice refuge for an out of place bird.

From Sylvia's, it's just a short hop to Huckberry Botanical Preserve, one of my favorite East Bay parks. From the vantage point of the first bench along the upper trail, I viewed the resident golden eagles, one perched and one flying, across the canyon at Round Top. As one of the pair landed next to its mate, I couldn't help thinking, "Honey, I'm home!"

There was a large congregation of ravens, big, black-feathered birds creating dancing, negative spaces as they soared and vocalized over the Sibley hills. Ravens were speaking in nuanced tongue, clicking and croaking, and partnering for tandem flights; then re-partnering, and generally behaving as lords of the realm. Thirty plus birds then landed in a statuesque, canopy-topping madrone at the far ridgeline opposite the tennis club. Their interactions continued, with some birds leaving and others coming in to take their place, and with plenty of no doubt rude raven commentary in-between.

It wasn't all spectacular birds, though. Farther along the trail, under the canopy of arching Bays, I found myself surrounded and charmed by some of the tiny denizens of Huckleberry: the bushtits, chickadees, kinglets, wrens and the like. One ruby crowned kinglet got right into my face and stared me down; I was glad that it was just a kinglet, and not a raven.

Sometimes, on these solo walks in the woods, I' m not sure if I'm a stand-in for Snow White (songbirds singing on her fingertip), or Tippi Hendrin, the Hitchcock heroine of "The Birds". But hey, it's all good.

Debbie Viess

A version of this essay was first published on EBB.