Today I'm in something of a writing mood, and I just went birding (or rather, exploring with birding as a focus? iNatting? I have no idea!) yesterday. As such, I figured I'd throw together a quick writeup of my birding at Moore Creek Preserve in Santa Cruz, California.

I wouldn't consider myself a competitive birder by any means, but I'm definitely something of a "lister." As I approach my 200th species in Santa Cruz County, I'm increasingly antsy about getting out there, and I'm often found checking my eBird needs alert. Today's goal: find a Grasshopper Sparrow, a species I'd seen with a Field Ornithology class in Vermont, but not yet in the Golden State. It would be species 199 for my county list.

I arrived at the preserve at 7:17 AM. The morning was foggy, as is usual for this time of year, and fairly chilly. Regardless, immediately upon exiting the car, I heard the calls of an American Crow, some House Finches, and a Chestnut-backed Chickadee. I then hit the road, noting every species of bird I could along the way. The entrance I used opened onto a field, with oaks to one side, and houses to the other. Signs at the front list information about the park, such as what is and is not allowed, endangered species that live there, and cattle. This will be relevant later. This field wasn't too notable, all things considered. It had your standard mix of native and invasive plants, which due to my own plant blindness, I unfortunately...didn't take much notice of. I'll definitely have to work more on that issue. There was a lot of rattlesnake grass, though, and a couple vibrant-looking mint plants in bloom. I managed to spot a juvenile Western Bluebird, which was neat. I also racked up sightings of common species for the area, like Lesser Goldfinch, Wrentit, and California Scrub-Jay. A few observations stood out to me in particular, though. One was a group of six Common Ravens in a pine tree. These birds seemed content to scream, or at least call loudly, every time I was near them. As such, I decided to use the opportunity to record the call, which you can listen to here. Second was a group of Coyotes that was making a bunch of noise. They weren't particularly close by, but they WERE pretty loud. I kept my eyes peeled for Grasshopper Sparrows in this area, because of their open-area proclivities, but no luck. As I moved on to the next area, I was bombarded by the loud scolding notes of Bewick's Wrens and an Oak Titmouse, as well as the song of a Spotted Towhee.

Moore Creek Preserve, as one might expect by the name, has a stretch of riparian forest. The foliage can get pretty dense, and the trail fairly narrow. Luckily, only two people passed me by, as social distancing is next to impossible here. Thickets of brambles and poison oak blanket much of the forest floor, occasionally broken up by ferns of various types, as well as some wildflowers. These surrounded more beaked hazelnut than I've ever seen in one place before. Long strands of lace lichen were draped from the coast live oaks making up much of the canopy. On the subject of lichens, there were typical species like shield lichens, sure, but I also took note of a couple more notable species, at least for someone like me with little knowledge on the topic. The birds in the area were pretty much what I expected. Some Red-shouldered Hawks gave off their almost gull-like screeches, as groups of chickadees and titmice flitted around. A Wild Turkey peeked its head over the side of a cliff face, and a western Purple Finch sang its typical song of jumbled notes. I noticed some Violet-green Swallows nesting in the sandstone cliffs. From what I can tell based on quick research, this isn't too uncommon. However, I've only ever seen them nesting in boxes or snags before, so this was a good find. That's about it for what I found in this area, though some of my other observations in the riparian forest are below.

After a surprisingly short time, the trees began to thin out, and grasses began to take over once again. I was coming upon what would be the last part of my trek, though the part that would take the longest. Soon after I stepped out of the woods, I noticed a fence up ahead, atop a hill. On one post, a Black Phoebe stood, vigilantly watching for prey and predator alike. On another, I spotted a female American Kestrel. Her size really stood out to me here: she only seemed a little bigger than the phoebe—fitting for one of North America's smallest birds of prey. As I walked up the hill, I noticed a strange brownish mass on the side of the path. I paid it little heed, and kept going, but its nature quickly became apparent as soon as I reached the top. As far as the eye could see, herds of cattle were roaming the meadows, grazing as they pleased. I was surprised, but not shocked, as I'd encountered "cow-scaping" before, at another local park. Essentially, the cattle will eat invasive plants (like the wild oats and rattlesnake grasses that seemed to spread across the fields), leaving native ones behind. This helps endangered species, but it also reduces the risk of fires. As I pondered this, the sign from the beginning of the trail came back to me. I realized that the brown mass earlier was, well, a cow pie, and that countless more were scattered all around the prairie path. Seriously, be careful where you step out there.

However, one thing proved quick to distract me from the bovines: the distinctive chips, buzzes, and trills of sparrows. Indeed, the coastal prairie provided excellent habitat for a couple of species in particular. One is the Savannah Sparrow, and the other is the Grasshopper Sparrow. I was excited to have finally observed the bird I came to look for, and took as many recordings and photographs as I could. I even managed to record a more complex song from a Grasshopper Sparrow, a mixture of twittering notes quite different from its typical high-pitched, grasshopper-like trill. As exciting as it was to finally hear my county lifer, there were plenty of other birds worth noting. Barn and Cliff Swallows swooped and dived over my head, and Olive-sided and Ash-throated Flycatchers gave their distinctive calls from nearby trees and shrubs. In a residential eucalyptus grove, a couple of Red-tailed Hawks decided to have a screaming match with one another. Excitingly, I heard a distinctively "vireo" song from a nearby shrub, leading me to guess that it was a Cassin's Vireo. The species is an uncommon summer bird in Santa Cruz, with a handful of in-county eBird sightings and iNaturalist observations to its name. Incidentally, this made me 3-for-3 on local vireos for the day, as I'd heard a couple Hutton's and a Warbling earlier (neither of which sound much like a "typical" vireo). As I neared the end of the trail and of my expedition, a few California ground squirrels and California towhees seemed to take residence on a hillside dense with French broom and pampas grasses. The trail ended at California Highway 1, as did my trip. I threw together an eBird checklist, which you can find here .

Overall, I had a fantastic time at Moore Creek. There were only two other people there, allowing more solitude and introspection than I usually get out of nature, especially these days. Don't get me wrong, more people spending time in and appreciating nature is fantastic, but sometimes you just want to be by yourself, to enjoy nature in your own way, and Moore Creek delivered. Beyond that, the preserve was diverse in the natural communities supported there, and the views (particularly from the forest and the prairie overlooking the sea) were quite beautiful. There were more trails than just the (relatively) straightforward path I took, which I wish I were able to explore further! I suspect there were a few bird species there, Brown-headed Cowbird in particular, that I didn't manage to pick up on while I was out there, too. I definitely missed a number of plants in particular, and likely some insects and other small animals as well. Perhaps I'll need to make a return trip sometime soon? I definitely look forward to the next time I can head out to Moore Creek Preserve.