Birds I'm Watching: Robins Harassing Acorn Woodpeckers

On the way home from walking my son to school today--often the highlight of my day--I noticed a group of Robins chasing a couple of Acorn Woodpeckers and then harassing them in the upper reaches of an oak tree. I don't know what avian faux-pas prompted the censure, but it was odd to watch. Usually I see crows harassing hawks, high overhead, but I've never seen Robins doing much aggressive--although I suppose worms feel badly treated when pursued by Robins.

There have been many more Robins in the area this year than usual (perhaps reflecting unusually cold weather further north), and there have been more Acorn Woodpeckers than usual as well since this past autumn. The latter live in extended family groups. I've had the impression that a new group has been checking out the area around my house for its possible use as a home territory. That might be interesting. Perhaps they will start nesting here in the spring.

Next time you're in Santa Rosa, go to Paradise Ridge Winery, off of Fountaingrove Parkway. Go for the view from the deck, but don't miss the giant oak outside the front door of the tasting room. It's home to a large colony of Acorn Woodpeckers. It's not uncommon to see ten or 15 at once flitting through the branches. The trunk is riddled with holes, most stuffed with acorns.  

Birds I'm Watching: Turkey in a Tree

Walking this morning, I saw a black phoebe--a comparatively unusual bird around here--and robins, one of our winter species. The robins have moved in from colder parts, but they will find little relief at the moment. It was down to well below freezing last night.

Further along the street, I saw a turkey calling rather forlornly from high in a tree. Turkeys are a common site in my neighborhood. They run around in packs of up to thirty or more, often stopping traffic as they cross streets. They rarely fly into trees, however. I think this one had lost his friends. I say "packs" rather than "flocks" because these birds seem vaguely threatening. They leave tracks that suggest dinosaurs. They look to me like bitter old men in tweed coats, bent over, running with their hands thrust in their pockets. I try not to get too close.