It's easy to support habitat restoration when it's a crappy brownfields site or a dammed river being allowed to run free after 100 years. But sometimes there's a decision to restore a place that's working pretty well as is, thank you very much. Sure, it's overrun with exotics, but... the birds like it and you've seen some pretty cool stuff there over the years. Do you really wanna mess with success?
Such was the dilemma for many Bay Area birders regarding the restoration and renovation at El Polin Springs in the Presidio. Sure, it was surrounded with eucalyptus and Monterey Pine and all kinds of other stuff. But, damn, the birds sure liked the place. I've had a few lifers there (a Wood Thrush in San Francisco... srsly???) and many great-for-the-city birds... Blue Grosbeak (srsly) and Clark's Nutcracker (yeah, srsly) among them. Plenty more rarities have shown up here (most of which I didn't see), and even the regulars were pretty fine...
Cedar Waxwings amidst beautifulness at El Polin.
So when I showed up a few weeks ago for the first visit since the restoration began in earnest... I wasn't sure how to feel about this.
But there were signs of birdlife. One of the chief draws from the old El Polin was a natural spring that trickled down the hillside and spilled over an old basin (old like Spanish era). Birds loved to drink and bathe and generally hang out. It's still there, the one truly untouched element in the restoration. But the restoration has brought other water sources as well...
Brown-headed Cowbirds are among my non-favorites. They rate higher than SADOs because at least they're native, but I'm not a fan. That said, they can be a nice looking bird in the right light, in the right setting.
Okay... wtf? A Black Phoebe in full-throated song? Channeling its inner Meadowlark? Just exuberant over the restoration? What is going on here?
That's what I wondered while reviewing the pix... then I remembered that it was actually horking up something. A phoebe-sized pellet, or maybe just a vile-tasting insect. Unfortunately, its projectile is just outside the frame, but it still made for a few good images. Here it just looks mad as hell.
If only I'd had these photos for April Fools; you would have gotten a great description of its song and territorial threat display.
It's always remarkable to me that Hooded Orioles can be so hard to spot sometimes. I mean, they're kinda small, but they are insanely flourescently lit-from-within golden orange. How does that hide? Like this:
(also: why is it "hooded" when the dark stuff is on the chin?)
From glowing orange to brilliant rusty orange - I heard a familiar call and looked up.
A second one flew in to join it in flight, and I got to watch a pair doing their sky tango (a beautiful day... they just had to slip away from the kids for a few minutes).
Soon it was time to part ways... one back to the nest, one out to find the next unlucky rodent.
The small creek that flows from the spring has been un-culverted and allowed to flow on the surface again. It meanders though a series of small pools which have been reconstructed to something closer to the original arrangement. Right now, however, it looks very raw.
As far as this phoebe is concerned, though, it's a diamond in the rough. There's a lot of promise in this spot and in the long run it should more than make up for this decidedly unscenic period of transition. You just have to be able to visualize...