Birding Byxbee Park - Palo Alto

Byxbee Park, a small unassuming outdoors space near the edge of the San Francisco Bay by Palo Alto, made even smaller by my natural interest (and the abundance of parking) in a specific region of the parks East most edge. Divided from the main park by an outlet flowing to the bay, this small area turned out to be a trove of wildlife and nature encounters. Not having any information on the place, I enjoyed going there just to discover what it held. Often times nothing remarkable happened, more often than not something a little interesting happened, and sometimes something really exciting occurred.  For someone with no strong knowledge of the area, or a background in the wildlife and salt marshes of the South Bay, Byxbee Park has been (and continues to be) a great training ground and teacher for my photography and nature observation.

Rolling to a halt and jumping out of the car I was greeted with an estuary that gently trickles out to the greater bay. A little bridge spans the water to allow access to my smaller stomping grounds. Surveying the scene, birds of all shapes and sizes flitted, foraged and flew about the water and muddy banks. A few birds hovered above the surface, paused, and flapped furiously to keep themselves airborne. After assessing the scene one bird performed a violent nose-dive into the water. Splash! He emerged, shaked his damp wings, and soars off empty beaked. The little bridge's slight elevation over the water acted as the perfect vantage point to observe this behavior, putting me close to bird height when they hovered and to the diving action without seeming to bother them. Whilst they remained in flight I could get a better look at these birds - a black toped head with pointed orange beak sitting above a brilliant white body and wings that fan out into an elegant V-shape - Forster's Tern's! Another dive-bombed. This time our Tern pulled out an unsuspecting fish. It took me a while to figure out how to capture an image of the Terns from the bridge: too close, too fast, autofocus picking up on the water, no background....Finally I found an angle and got a little timing down to capture a post diving Tern flying off with the banks of the estuary framed behind him. A little fish helplessly carried off in the beak after being wrenched from his watery home.

Walking along to the South, following the inlet as it moves toward the bay, my eyes and ears on alert in case any other wildlife presented itself. A pang of excitement drifted through me as I saw a large bird approach across the inlet. Too large to be something tame and common. My mind raced to hoping it's a Bald Eagle, Osprey, or the like. Too good to be true, it flew a path directly toward me. Camera locked and loaded, telephoto zoomed in to the extreme. The 'bird' turned out to be a micro-plane landing at the nearby airport! Oh well, good training drill.

Shaking off the embarrassment and moving a little further on, I reached a vista where you can see across the mouth of the inlet to a shoreline and neighboring trail that wraps beyond it. A small expanse of scratch land extends between the trail and the river. Observing the scene, I noticed two small birds flitting about the ground, just outside the guide rail of the trail. Black, scarf like striped markings ringing their necks, broad white underbellies and chestnut brown backs. Eyes black with a punch of red highlighting their outsides, like a moon eclipsing a red giant. I later learned this bird was a Killdeer. Dropping to the ground pointing my camera in their general direction, I was hoping they'd allow at least a picture and not get spooked by my antics. Thankfully, they stayed in place, allowing a few images with some scrub background. After lying there for a little, I panicked...one of the Killdeer hopped onto the back of the other, reminding me of a scoring pose from the English parlor game "Pass the Pigs". Something interesting was happening! Not being used to taking behavior shots, I mashed the shutter. Thankfully a few of the frames were reasonable, and I was able to capture this playful scene.

Continuing along there is a little pier that stretches out into scrubland to a dock that greets the water's edge. A view across the bay reveals Mission Peak rising in the distance. As I stood trying to make out ant like figures perched atop the peak, a flurry of activity, a blue-orange blur, erratic changing of direction and a swoop in an arc over the water before gracefully dismounting the air and landing under the pier. Little birds, like tiny torpedoes whizzing about. Barn Swallows had arrived for the year. I tried to get pictures of them in flight, with the backdrop of Mission Peak, but they were too fast and changed direction too quickly. Moving to the other side of the pier, I wondered whether I could focus my camera in a space they frequented enough, and wait until one happened to steam by to capture the action. No such luck. Having leant over the side of the pier for a while, I noticed that every so often a Barn Swallow would come land on the side of the railing. One little bird seemed quite calm perched where it was, so I grabbed a few frames leaning over the side. Then I realized there could be a chance to "out-fox" this swallow...Walking down the bridge a little, I sat on the boards, and focussed my camera through a slat in the guard rail. A little face of a Barn Swallow peeked back. I shuffled a little closer to test my luck, and there was a slightly larger little face looking back. More shuffling and eventually I was too close to focus. The result was a portrait of a Barn Swallow, contently sitting on a bridge, close enough I could pour over the details in his face: flame orange feathering, turquoise shimmering head and a bug trapped under the beak for later.

Having burnt out from trying to catch swallows in flight, I walked back off the pier. Looking up into the power pylons to the right, I saw a bird like shape high up in the tower. Wary that this could be another micro-plane situation, and the shape be some structure of the pylon, I pointed my camera, zoomed as much as I could and calmly took a look to see what there might be. To my shock, there perched a black backed bird, yellow stout beak under which a white chin and patterned underbelly sat. Black patched head with lobes reaching under the eyes like an executioners hood completed the look - a Peregrine Falcon! Having only seen this bird a couple of times, and even then in the more natural area of Monterrey, I was surprised to see such a majestic bird in this urban environment. Shooting very high up, with a background of plain sky, the best I could do was try to frame the bird within the criss-crossed geometry of the pylon. Moving the image to monochrome I liked the juxtaposition of the bird and geometric patterns of the urban environment. Certainly not a great picture, but to me this captured a great moment in my time spent in this area. Each time I've passed these pylons since, I look up to check if there is a Peregrine Falcon perched above. No luck so far.

Walking back the way I came, a few pigeons sat at the edge of the dirt parking lot, quietly pecking around at the ground. Usually I wouldn't find much excitement in a bird so prevalent and common as our urban sky rats. Doubly so being in an unromantic setting as a parking lot. However their persistence to remain where they were as I approached made me think there could be an opportunity for a close-up portrait. I sat down on the dirt, trying to meet them at eye level. The pigeons continued to cruise about the floor, getting close enough that a nice detailed image of feathers was possible. One straggler separated from the pack and I fired off a few frames. I expected very little from these images in the moment, given the subject and location, but I continued to snap away until they had passed. Looking at the photos in the parking lot, I was greeted by a depiction of a bird that I scarcely associated with a common pigeon. Far from a shades of grey blob of feathers, my camera captured a light mauve tear drop, with glistening teal and purples flowing from head into an arctic white body. A deep orange eye with deeper sunburnt red outlining stared gracefully back at me. All this set on a backdrop of green-brown hue from a confusion of bush and brush.  I'm sure pigeons have always looked like this, but my lack of interest in really looking at a bird so common had prevented me from appreciating their elegant side. Perhaps I should spend more time looking at seagulls too, and retract my "sky rat" comment.

Whooshhh. A low pass of a shadow cruising the hedge-line interrupted me. Back facing towards me, patrolling the marsh land. A hawk-like shape, but not immediately identifiable to my untrained eye. I start shooting into the sky. It floats on, screening the vegetation below, and I chased along to parallel the hedge-row. A tail feather here, a bush there and a distinct big-foot quality to the majority of these images yielding more confusion than clarity about the bird. Before I could gain any composure, it drifted off deeper into the scrubland beyond. Despite the lack of a quality image, I was excited to observe a new bird in this space and witness a behavioral pattern that appeared to be a routine.

This wild bird chase delivered me to a little pond opposite the parking lot from where I had set out. A quaint bench in a fenced off area looks longingly out over the pond, across the scrubland and into the greater bay. Yellow trail strings adding temptation to breach their defenses, and wander out across the marsh. The pond was busy with activity from shorebirds of all shapes and sizes. I scooted down the bank that slopes from the road to the pond, and positioned myself at the waters edge. Laying belly down on a mix of mud and scrub, I tried to get as low to the ground as possible to catch a tiny bird with a hint of distant background. A small character was pecking through the shore where the water laps the sand. A trail of feathers littered the beach. A few frames revealed a calm Sandpiper gently foraging in the mud.  Looking a little left, more Sandpipers pecked quietly about, investigating the treats available within the pond weed. One fellow decided that pecking was hard work, and stopped to scratch himself behind the ear. The look on his face suggested that both bird and human draw similar satisfaction from a good scritching. A black legged stilt strutted across the scene a little further out. Black feathers tinged with a dark turquoise tint, a sparkle in the eye and a pouting of the beak rounding out the image of elegance. Happy with the action, I dragged myself up from where I was standing. Emerging from the edge of the pond, appearing suddenly to the road due to the gentle slope down to the waters edge - I attracted a bemused look from a passerby. The look (to my interpretation) asked, how did you appear there and why are your trousers in such a state.

Hoping to glimpse the landing spot of the suspected hawk in the scrub, I headed upstream of the inlet toward a pier that protrudes out from the nature center. Passing around the board walks of the centers edge, more Barn Swallows roamed around. Flying in and out, and occasionally diving into the terrace of the nature center up into the ceiling. Looking up, I noticed wreaths of bee-hive like structures stuck to the roof. Staking this oddity out, Swallows would swerve in, up into one of the many cone like openings of these wreaths and emerge after some delay. Not wanting to bother them, I obscured myself behind a pillar, and waited. Barn Swallows flew in, and as they did, a hoard of small bird beaks and heads peeked out of every cone on the wreath! Little squeaks and mouths vying for attention, and presumably food. From my position by the pole I had a clear line of sight to one of these openings. As yet another swallow whizzed in to land, two small beaks jostled to look out of the opening and one photographer peered out from behind the pillar. Whilst clearly still young, the look from both pairs of eyes and down turned beaks suggested menacing intentions, and screamed we know you're there and what you're doing. I thought it best to flee the scene!

Heading back to the car, I decided to keep my camera out in case of one last piece of action. About to enter the parking lot, a commotion. A flurry of birds from the calm pond I had just visited, launching in all directions into the sky. The mystery hawk had emerged up out of the scrub! Picking up my pace, I followed its direction of flight as it cruised back towards the vista where the piggy-backing Killdeer had been. It landed itself the other side of the inlet. Whilst I hadn't managed any pictures in my pursuit, at least I had line of sight to the bird, and could wait and hope it came back this way. As it sat there, it allowed a few distance frames which were clear enough for me to finally identify my "white-whale" - a Northern Harrier. As I waited thinking up a game plan, it took off into the sky. To my excitement it flew directly towards me! Firing frame after frame as it approached, and eventually drifted 10ft directly over head to continue its route along the hedges. To my joy, one of these images captured the bird balancing in the air, scanning the ground below, backed by the landmark of Shoreline amphitheater, the Santa Cruz mountains and the scrubland. This photo to me captures all that is great about Bayshore birding. An unexpected moment, from a striking bird of prey, within line of sight of greater urban society. With that it was about time to head home.