Birds, Photography

The Acorn Woodpeckers of Roadrunner Loop

Zooming in on birds in Southern California

I have been in search of Hawks of late. Most afternoons, around three, when the light slants low (perfect conditions for illuminating those russet feathers with a subtle warmth), I head out on my mountain bike, my camera tucked away in my camelback, and pedal out to the wilderness area near my home in Southern California.

I had the good fortune a couple of weeks ago to serendipitously capture an image of two Red-Shouldered Hawks mating. I won’t say that this photo had much to do with skill — it was purely luck. But it did show me where these raptors like to hang out together.

I’ve also discovered where a Red-Tailed Hawk and a Swainson’s Hawk like to perch, high up on a lone, bare tree along the “Willows” Trail. And I just learned that the little black birds that I kept seeing flitting around on Horseshoe Loop are Starlings.

The portal into this world of birds was opened for me through the purchase of a Nikon COOLPIX P1000. I’ve been afraid to bring my big camera and nice lenses out on the trail with me, for fear of crashing (which tends to happen with some regularity — especially on what we have lovingly named “The Monster Hill.”) So, I bought the COOLPIX, which is not so incredibly expensive that I would be absolutely crushed if it was damaged in a crash.

What I had hoped for with this camera, but had not seen in person until I hit the trail with it, was the potential for zooming in on birds and other critters. It has a 125x optical zoom (24–3000mm full-frame equivalent). And it can shoot in RAW format too.

So, one day, while I was listening to the screaming “Kay-ahh” of a hawk and waiting for her to appear in this forested section of the trail, I noticed a whole tree full of these little woodpeckers.

I’d seen them in the springtime, up on the ridge, where the trail winds around a lone tree on a dusty “savanna.” I think that they must have had a nest up there because there was such a flurry of activity in that tree for a few weeks. And then the birds just seemed to disappear.

But, now, as I stood, my bike laid down, my camera in hand, my eyes focused on the tree-tops, at least twenty of these colorful little Acorn Woodpeckers came into focus. They seemed to be tormenting a crow, who was also hanging around in the same area.

I’m not exactly sure what the crow was up to. They tend to be such tricksters. But those little woodpeckers were not at all happy about having him in their tree.

Pretty soon he flew off though. There is another section of the trail that I’ve nicknamed “Crow Village” because, every night, at twilight, hundreds of crows seem to gather there. But that area is at least a couple of miles away.

Soon after the crow flew off, the rat-a-tat of little beaks punctuated the late afternoon once more.

And a frenzy of activity exploded in the treetops.

It always seems like the birds are extra active in the late afternoon. Perhaps they are just anticipating the long, cold night ahead and are trying to get their daily calories-worth of bugs and things in.

I really enjoyed getting to see these woodpeckers more “up close” with the new camera. Their little red caps are so striking.

Thank you for coming along on the journey with me. I hope that you enjoyed this glimpse into the birds of Roadrunner Loop.

Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies).

I hope you enjoyed my photos and musings. You might also like:

If you’re interested in keeping up with my poems, photos and stories of the critters in my neighborhood, you might consider subscribing to my stories.

And, because I’ve had a few people asking lately, if you’re ever interested in purchasing a photo, just leave me a note. I’m working on a limited edition of hawk prints on metallic paper right now and I am quite excited about how they are turning out.

Poem and photo ©Erika Burkhalter. All rights reserved.