Winter Birds

The gregarious and fearless yellow-rumped warbler is one of the most common Malibu winter garden birds, but it's just one of dozens of seasonal avian residents. All photos © 2015 S. Guldimann

Rich meanings of the prophet-Spring adorn,
Unseen, this colourless sky of folded showers,
And folded winds; no blossom in the bowers;
A poet's face asleep in this grey morn.
Now in the midst of the old world forlorn
A mystic child is set in these still hours.
I keep this time, even before the flowers,
Sacred to all the young and the unborn.
—Alice Meynell, In February


There are a lot of poems about February. Many are bleak and full of snow, and often the poet mourns the absence of bird and blossom. It makes me feel inexplicably guilty, since quite a lot of those lamented birds missing from there are actually here for the winter.

February in Malibu is a paradise for birds, and birdwatchers often find they have a front row seat for the colorful panoply of winter migrants right in their own garden. Here's a look at some of the winter visitors spotted here at the Malibu Post.

The American robin usually arrives around Christmas and heads north again as soon as warmer weather arrives.

The spotted towhee is sometimes mistaken for a robin. This year-round Malibu resident is smaller, darker and shyer than the robin and only has red on its sides, not its breast. Those long claws visible in the photograph help the towhee dig for grubs and other treats. Ours like to dig up the bulbs of the oxalis flowers. This towhee is feasting on the fruit of an ornamental pear tree.

I often see Western bluebirds in the more remote parts of the Santa Monica Mountains, and especially in Malibu Creek State Park, but we've had an unusual number of Western bluebirds this winter here at Point Dume, more than I've ever seen. I hope that's a good sign that the population, which dwindled to almost nothing in this area during the 1980s and '90s, is rebounding. 

The dark-eyed junco used to be a winter-only visitor, but last year these gregarious garden birds decided to stay all summer, nesting near our front gate and making a ticking sound like a Geiger counter whenever anyone went in or out. I'll be interested to see if they stay or go this spring. This little bird has distinctive white-striped tail feathers that are often the only part of the bird one catches a glimpse of as it darts past.

The lesser goldfinch is a year round resident, but we only see them in the garden during the winter, when they come to forage for the seeds of the Mexican evening primrose plants and other wildflowers that have been left to go to seed. 

The oak titmouse is a favorite winter bird in our garden. This tiny bird is fierce and feisty, scolding anyone who comes too close. Although we have lots of small gray birds and they can often be hard to tell apart, the oak titmouse is unmistakable. It's the only solid gray species in this area with a peak of feathers on its head.

Here's one of the aforementioned hard to identify gray birds. I think this one is a female hermit warbler. The male has a much flashier black and yellow design, a little bit like the yellow-rumped warbler, but more vivid, the female is less conspicuous, but a regular winter visitor at the birdbath.

There's nothing inconspicuous about the western kingbird. This large gray and primrose yellow flycatcher is an aerial acrobat—I once saw one snatch a swallowtail butterfly out of the air just inches above the windshield of my car, and then reverse itself midair and swoop up to the nearest telephone line to eat its prize. Kingbirds have a loud, distinctive metallic call and aren't afraid of anything. They've been know to dive bomb hawks and crows and will let you know in no uncertain terms if you stray to close to their territory, snapping their beaks and attempting to intimidate the unwary trespasser. Some kingbirds reside in Southern California throughout the year, but ours appear to be winter migrants, most often seen in February and March. However, this species seems to thrive in the urban setting and in Malibu, at least, they seem to be increasing in number.

The western meadowlark is one of our shyest winter residents. It's easy to recognize this bird in spring by its beautiful call, which you can listen to here. In winter, the usually solitary meadowlark gathers into flocks, but they are almost always silent and can be remarkably hard to spot. Although the front of the bird is bright yellow and marked with a heraldic-style black chevron, they keep their bright colors carefully hidden, presumably to avoid standing out to predators (and photographers).

It may seem an unlikely candidate for favorite winter garden bird, but for me, the swift black wings and the hoarse cry that announces the arrival of the winter ravens embodies the essence of the season. People often confuse crows with ravens, but no one mistakes a raven for a crow: they are much larger and more dignified than their smaller, more numerous corvid cousins. Crows are smart, but ravens are reportedly one of the most intelligent bird species on earth, with complex problem-solving skills and long memories. Most of the year, if you want to find ravens, you have to look in the less developed corners of the Santa Monica Mountains, but in winter they come down to the coast and haunt gardens and backyards. Their presence infuriates the crows, but the ravens don't care. I love to watch their graceful, acrobatic flights, which sometimes involve roles and dives and the raven equivalent of the Immelmann turn—upside down and around. I love to hear their rough, wild cry. We may not have the snow and the dark and the isolation of the northern winter, but I hear it every year in that cry and in the rush of wings.

This post contains a small sample of Malibu's winter birds. It features just the ones that held still long enough for me to snap a photo, recording their passage. 

I recently read a State Coastal Conservancy report that described Malibu, the Santa Monica Mountains, and the entire South Coast region as "considered to be one of the 25 most important 'hotspots' of biological diversity on earth." 

Birdwatchers who would like to help document the local bird population are encouraged to take part in this year's Great Backyard Bird Count, February 13-16. The event, cosponsored by Cornell University's Bird Lab and the Audubon Society, attracts participants from around the world. Last year, nearly 150,000  checklists were submitted, recording nearly 18 million birds and 4,296 species. There were 263 species just in Los Angeles County, and the Malibu Lagoon and Point Dume State Park were among the top bird hot spots. More information is available here.

While cameras and binoculars are helpful, all that is required to participate in the bird count is the time to go out and look, and it's always worth taking the time to look. You never know what you might see. 

Happy birdwatching!

Suzanne Guldimann

7 February 2015

An osprey glides across the Malibu sky at sunset.

My Blue Heaven?

Malibu skies are often blue, but seldom Malibu Blue. Curious, and curiouser.

Are you blue? Apparently Malibu is. It’s even an official web-safe Pantone color: 17-4435 TPX Malibu Blue. I know how Prussian blue, and cobalt blue, cerulean blue, Egyptian blue and French ultramarine got their names and I understand Tiffany blue, named for the gem-quality turquoise that became the signature color of the jewelry firm, but Malibu blue? Who decided that this seaside community should give its name to a slightly muddy turquoise color, and when?

Pantone Color  17-4435 TPX Malibu Blue

Do you see anything here that looks like 17-4435 TPX Malibu Blue?

Of course, no one asks permission to name things Malibu—there’s the brand of rum, the car, the outdoor lighting company, dozens of clothing companies, and even a whole host of competing Malibu cosmetics and skin care products.

For a while, the Malibu City Council had a bee in its bonnet about “branding” Malibu and making money off of its own line of brick-a-brac. Local wits quipped that if Beverly Hills can have a signature perfume, Malibu should, too, provided it smells authentically of waste water and skunk.

Somehow the Malibu blue revolution slipped past me without notice. No amount of Googling here at the Malibu Post revealed its origins, but today the savvy consumer can have Malibu blue tennis shoes, bridesmaid’s dresses, tuxedos, silk ties, hospital scrubs and underwear—the Cleo Lucy bra,  “Designed for the full-busted and full-figure woman." A sales description proclaims: “featured in Ladies Home Journal online in "Bras Beyond Boring Beige.”  

British lingerie firm Panache's "Malibu Blue" Cleo Lucy bra.

Malibu blue Vans

Malibu blue frou-frou.

Not everyone, however, has jumped upon the Malibu blue bandwagon. Malibu Rum seems not to have realized the potential of this color for new and bizarre cocktail options. True, they have a Malibu Red (an unholy union of rum and tequila), and a “ready to drink” “Malibu Blue Hawaiian” that comes in a plastic bag, but they’re clearly missing out on the opportunity to create a Malibu blue zombie.

Malibu Red, but no Malibu Blue, not yet.

There is a blue 2014 Chevy Malibu, but it’s Atlantis Blue Metalic. Clearly they’re missing out, too, unlike Audi, which was apparently hip to the chromatic shift in 2010. Germancarblog.com was not optimistic about the color:

Nice find here of a Malibu Blue Audi TT RS. Malibu Blue is the reported name of this light blue metallic...we remain not yet won over on Malibu Blue. Visions of Barbie come to mind but we’ll hold off on making a final opinion until we’ve seen it live and in the alloy.”

A Malibu Blue 2010 Audi. 

So, where did all of this Malibu Blue come from? Who knows, but Germancarblog might have been onto something with that thought of Barbie: the original 1971 Malibu Barbie Doll came with a pale aqua swim suit.

The original 1971 Malibu Barbie rocked a pale aqua blue swimsuit.  

An aqua one-piece swim suit for someone famous for wearing hot pink bikinis? Barbie may be plastic but she’s one smart doll. Clearly she was decades ahead of the trend. 

What a relief to know that in 2014, one's bridesmaids can arrive at one's dream wedding attired from their undies to their suede pumps in this particular shade of turquoise, so as not to clash with the groom's bow tie, or the ocean. And if nature won't suffice for a matching bouquet, dried flowers dyed Malibu Blue are the answer to a wedding planner's prayer.

Custom Manolo Blahnik Malibu blue suede shoe—in five heel heights, $595, available from Neiman Marcus.

Blue groom (I saw you standing alone)

Malibu Blue-tinted statice flowers.

There's nothing wrong, really, with 17-4435 TPX Malibu Blue. It's just, it doesn't offer much scope for the imagination. Not when the real Malibu has an abundance of astonishing shades of blue almost every day. Right now we have Dume turquoise, deep Corral Beach blue, and phthalocyanide blue-green Westward wave. There's Santa Ana sky blue, and top of Zuma Ridge sky blue, and the color that the ocean turns during clear winter weather—it looks that way all along the coast on the drive to Oxnard right now. And then there's the translucent after-the-rain azure that is sadly missing from the color scheme this winter. 

An entire gamut of blues is visible from the top of Point Dume on a clear day.

There’s blue jay blue, too— often one of the brightest Malibu blues on a gray day in the garden, unless you are lucky enough to have an overwintering western blue bird in residence. 

Mussel-shell blue—one of numerous authentic Malibu shades of blue.

If the drought ever ends, we can look forward to ceanothus blue covering the hills, and all over the acres scared by the Springs Fire, the ephemeral blue of California canterbury bells. Until then, here's wishing you blue waves, blue skies and blue horizons—colors that are beyond price and still free to everyone.

Why stop at blue? Why not enjoy a splash of Malibu Crimson, Violet and Orange?

Color in sky, Prussian blue

Scarlet fleece changes hue

Crimson ball sinks from view

Wear your love like heaven,

 Wear your love like heaven,

Wear your love like heaven.

—Donovan

Endless Summer

Smokey Bear says it all. 

The title of the 1966 surfing film is intended to generate visions of eternal surf and sun—a surfer’s Shangra La, but the Endless Summer we’re experiencing during what is suppose to be winter this year is more like hell than heaven, and there hasn't been any surf in weeks, either.

It was 82 degrees in the parking lot of Malibu City Hall at 9:30 p.m. on Wednesday, January 15, and 84 at Pepperdine University at 8:30 p.m. on Thursday. After what feels like an eternity of gale-force winds, the Santa Anas have diminished today, but the red flag warning is still in place. 

After weeks of wind and fire danger, everyone in wildfire danger zones—and that’s most of Southern California these days—are feeling not so much nervous as exhausted. Smoke from the Colby Fire and news footage of burning homes is a reminder that the danger is real and constant. That fire, like the catastrophic Corral Fire in Malibu in 2007, was started by an illegal camp fire. 

Smoke from the Colby Fire, more than 50 miles away, drifts past Point Dume. We've only had a quarter inch of rain so far, not enough to wake the giant coreopsis flowers from dormancy or even generate the growth of winter grass. I am reminded of Fredrick Hastings Rindge's description of the great drought of 1863: "In November, 1863 there was a regular downpour, and it did not rain again until November, 1864."

Smoke from the Colby Fire turns sunset sullen and ominous on the evening of January 16. The wind was so powerful at Corral Beach that I couldn't hold the camera steady, even with the monopod. I had to lean on the car to get this shot.

Humans aren’t the only ones feeling the stress, the drought and heat are impacting local wildlife, too. 

Snakes that normally hibernate are active. I spoke to a woman on Wednesday who found four rattlesnakes on her porch last week. Gophers, desperate for green food, are eating things they normally leave alone, including inedible bulbs, like narcissus, and even bitter and tough pomegranate, citrus and oak roots.

There have reportedly been nine incidents of pet animals attacked or taken by coyotes in the Point Dume area in the past two weeks. Coyotes, desperate for water and food, are taking chances that they would never take during a normal winter. The consequences are tragic for pet owners and ultimately for the coyotes.

Coyotes are increasingly coming into conflict with humans, as the drought forces them to seek food and water in residential areas. Residents can help prevent conflict by making sure small animals are not left alone outside, small dogs are walked on short leashes, instead of retractable leases, gaps in fencing are closed, and potential attractants like trash cans, BBQ grease, fallen fruit and birdseed are removed. 

I wrote this piece for the Malibu Surfside News on coyotes a couple of weeks ago. I talked to Camilla Fox, executive director of the Coyote Project, for the article. Her organization has excellent tip on how to safely and humanely keep coyotes away, available here.

Like the coyotes, deer are also moving into developed areas in search of green food and fresh water. This is the Pepperdine herd. These animals are usually sleek and appear healthy but looked a bit seedy this week. The one major thing residents can do to help the local deer population is to stay alert when driving and especially to slow down at dusk, when deer—and other animal jaywalkers, including skunks, are most active.

While no one wants to encourage coyotes, a safe, clean, consistent water source that is far enough off the ground to discourage coyotes and other interlopers, can be a tremendous help for wild birds. Even this rufus hummingbird has been showing up at the backyard birdbath this week. The dew that hummingbirds usually depend on for hydration is in short supply.

Honey bees and other beneficial insects also benefit from a safe water source.

NOAA is forecasting at least 10 more days of high pressure and a possible return of the Santa Anas next weekend. We can only hope February and March will bring much needed rain, and that endless summer will give way to winter at last, and the hope of spring.

This is the last leaf of autumn in our garden, clinging stubbornly to the otherwise bare liquidambar tree through all the gale force Santa Ana winds of this crazy un-wintery winter. 

The Malibu Armada

Gulls and dolphins welcome the arrival of winter with a fish feast off the coast of Malibu. Rumor has it that the first gray whales of winter were spotted last week off Westward Beach, but the presence of huge numbers of sea birds resting on empty Malibu beaches, or gathered into great flocks on the surface of the water just off shore is one of the most conspicuous signs of the season. © 2013 S. Guldimann

Yesterday was the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, the turning point of the seasons. Winter officially began today, and all the winter sea birds have arrived in Malibu for the season. This vast avian armada is comprised primarily of gulls, but their are a few more exotic species that join the flock for the winter months.

Gulls congregate in huge numbers on Malibu beaches during the winter. The western and California gulls—Malibu's most common year-round gulls, are joined in the winter by ring-billed gulls, charcoal-gray Heermann's gulls, dove-gray glaucous gulls and more exotic members of the gull family that include terns and even the occasional black skimmer.

 

A quartet of royal terns join the seagulls at Zuma Beach for a rest from fishing. © 2013 S. Guldimann

Even when they're resting, sea birds remain on the alert. The slighted alarm, like the shadow of a passing hawk, will send the entire flock into flight. © 2013 S. Guldimann

Gulls also float in great armadas out in the water, or gather in chaotic clouds of airborne and diving birds to hunt for herring and anchovies. Their calls are one of the sounds of the season. The cry of the terns is high and piercing, the gulls' voices are full of raucous laughter.

The grebes are here, too. On calm days they float serenely on the water, disappearing to dive for fish, resurfacing like miniature Loch Ness monsters, elegant in an almost reptilian way.

A western grebe keeps a watchful ruby-red eye out for fish as it patrols on a calm day. That sharp beak serves as a spear and a forceps for stabbing and snatching fish. The grebe's feet are far back on its body, making it awkward on land but enabling it to fly through the water as well as the air. © 2013 S. Guldimann

The Western grebe resembles a black and white question mark in the water. It's a powerful swimmer, with paddle-like feet set far back on its body for maximum speed. Western grebes use their beaks to spear and snatch fish. They hunt under water and can stay down for an astonishing length of time. 

Grebes breed in Canada and the Midwest. Their arrival on the coast of Malibu is a sure sign that winter is coming, even when the weather is warm and summery. We don't get to see their wonderful courtship ritual that involves a synchronized dance on the surface of the water, called "rushing," or the way grebe parents carry their chicks on their backs for safety, but we do get to enjoy their presence throughout the winter.

Grebes hunt underwater, diving swiftly and pursuing fish with speed and agility. This one is half-way through its Loch Ness Monster-style disappearing act. © 2013 S. Guldimann

One second the grebe is there, the next it's disappeared under water, leaving only a small wake of rings behind as a sort of aquatic footprint. The bird may pop back up a long way from where it dived. When the water clarity is good and conditions are just right you can observe a diving grebe through the surface of the water.

Grebes aren't the only local Loch Ness Monster impersonators. This double-crested cormorant makes a fairly convincing miniature sea monster. © 2013 S. Guldimann

The "real" Loch Ness Monster, for comparison.

The black skimmer's appearance is nearly as preposterous as Nessie's. This exotic-looking member of the tern family is an occasional winter visitor. This one was spotted at Zuma Beach. © 2013 S. Guldimann

Like wind-blown snow or autumn leaves, sea gulls drift effortlessly out of the sky, their feathers flashing silver in the winter sun. © 2013 S. Guldimann