Yesterday, I awoke to the juncos trilling and trilling. It was about 5AM that I became conscious of their insistent calls. I was getting up at 5:30 to do a charity bike ride out of Foster City, so hearing birdsong first thing wasn't so annoying.
An aside: a flock of dark-eyed juncos (oregon race) live in the pine trees nearby. They make a racket. I saw and heard my first junco on Buena Vista Hill several months ago after I just got my new binos and went birding with my dog. (not recommended, by the way. dogs don't understand birding -- even good Aussies). I kept hearing this trilling - a cross between a smoke alarm and a phone (you know, the old fashioned kind that actually rings?!) I finally located the bird perched about 20 feet above the path, just trilling away repeatedly, answered by another junco maybe 50 feet away (heard, never seen). Watching a bird sing really teaches you the song in a way that learning it from a cd or website won't. Watching helps you internalize the song.
My recent move has exposed me to a larger variety of birds than at the old place. There: mockingbirds, house finches, brewers black birds and nuthatches. Here: raptors (redtails definitely, and some as yet unidentified - could be kestrels, harriers, juvi-red tails and possibly red-shouldered -- no no, a multitude of raptors - not just one bird with those possibilities... silly!), anna and allen hummers, white crowned sparrow, house finch, song sparrows and pygmy nuthatches are a few I've identified. Thought I may have seen a chestnut capped chickadee yesterday, but need more sightings since I wasn't looking through my binoculars at the time. Must train myself to keep them at hand at all times.
One anna's hummingbird has his territory just outside my window. Around 7AM he starts his routine, perching on a bare branch of the pine tree on the slope (below my eye level). He looks this way and that for possible intruders. Preens a bit. Looks around. If he sees someone, he does his territorial display: rising high into the air and then diving facing the morning light, igniting his magenta head and throat for intruders to see, appreciate and move on. Occasionally, an Allen's hummer has ventured into his turf, feeding on the same bottlebrush tree. He's quick, in for a sip and then out again, knowing he's a nectar thief.
On a fair day, I can see Point Reyes. I was up early enough the other day to see the lighthouse blinking. Other fine afternoons I've heard redtails calling and rushed outside to see 2 and 3 redtails circling - one with his (her?) legs extended as if to land or grab one of the other soaring hawks. Mesmerizing.
