Birds & Birding

The Real Birds That Inspired Hitchcock’s Thriller

“Come to the beach—NOW!”

I scan the urgent texts from neighbors and naturalists and bolt out the door. Racing over the dunes, I hear a cacophony of squawks, bleats and cries. Then I see the birds—thousands swirling in great swooping waves, wing to wing, their dark feathers blotting the sun, their sleek bodies wheeling over the sea.

“It looks like something out of Hitchcock,”  an onlooker says.

In fact, a scene like this one occurred not far from the director’s house on the Central Coast a few months before he started shooting The Birds.  On August 18, 1961, masses of crazed birds invaded the town of Capitola, colliding into buildings and smashing onto cars. 

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Summer School for Seabirds

There’s a baby boom on the northern California coast.  

Cliffs and offshore rocks that seemed almost lifeless through winter are teeming with seabird families. Through my binoculars, I watch tiny Western Gulls wobbling on spindly pink legs, secretive Pigeon Guillemots ferrying fish into invisible nests, and Common Murres preparing their youngsters for one of the most astonishing leaps in the bird world.

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A Nest to Call Home

The mission: Construct a home for soon-to-be-born offspring.

The rules: Use only scavenged materials.  Carry them to the site in your mouth. Employ nothing but your appendages as tools.  Ensure shelter from wind, water, and roving bandits.

The seabirds in love introduced in a previous post set to work. As monitors for the Seabird Protection Network on the Northern California coast, we watch and wonder: Where can these parents-to-be, who spend much of the year over open water, find safe haven on our rugged shore?

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The (Brown) Pelican Brief

The streets where I live are named for California birds: Heron, Gull, Osprey, Loon, Kittiwake and, in my case, Pelican. When asked if  I ever see real pelicans on  their namesake block, I am delighted to say “Yes!”.   From early summer into fall,  briefs–—also called squadrons, pods and scoops—of Brown Pelicans glide majestically overhead.

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The Uncommon Saga of a “Common” Seabird

Over the last 175 years, common murres (pronounced murrs) have been pushed to near-extinction by greed, pollution and a warming ocean. But in a remarkable turn, the “penguins of California” are establishing new breeding colonies and laying eggs on rocks and outcroppings off  the Sonoma coast.

Despite their name, common murres are anything but ordinary. On land they waddle in dapper black-and-white plumage. Under water they dive like torpedoes. In the air, their short wings—better suited to swimming than soaring—beat furiously, whirring like wind-up toys. About the size of a football, murres spend most of the year over open water. But each Spring they return to the stony sites where they were born to cluster in densely packed colonies.

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The Magic of Nature’s Vanishing Act

They appear like mirages in the dark of winter, burst into full-throated glory in Spring and fade away with the summer sun. Vernal ponds remind me of Brigadoon, the Scottish village in the classic musical that comes to life for one day every hundred years.  The first time I came upon a gleaming pond in a field that had been dry just weeks before, I was as stunned as if a bag-pipe-playing Highlander had suddenly materialized.

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The Rapture of Raptors

As I swerve along California’s Route 1, a small brown rodent darts across the road. Looking up, I  hear a piercing shriek and see a broad-winged bird hurtling from on high. A few feet above my open-top convertible, the avian assassin, talons outstretched, tail fanned and beak gaping, brakes to a mid-air stop, flounces its feathers and  jets back to the heavens.  I watch, utterly enraptured.

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