Getting a Hood on Your Oriole

As an extremely novice birder, I am enjoying expanding my vocabulary to describe and identify the feathered people living in my new country setting. I could not do this without the help of friends who have flown farther down this particular bird trail. Alison, for one, has become my fall-back gal for identification, but I also rely on the Mt. Diablo Audubon's list-serve, East Bay Birders, for the constant stream of bird notices that are sent out in emails every day, notifying Bay Area folks of who and what and how many are flying through.

My first encounter with birders, however, was not so pleasant. It seemed odd that we would go out all in a bunch, with scopes and guidebooks, while some seemed exceedingly competitive about getting the name out first of a particular bird sited. And, I struggle with whether knowing a bird's name--a man-given nomenclature, after all--really helps me know the bird any better.

Nonetheless, when I spotted this yellow brilliance on a utility pole just outside the house about two weeks ago, I was eager to know what name he goes by (he must surely be a "he," because in the bird realm, the brightest and showiest are usually male). I guessed some kind of oriole by using two or three of the usual birder books (Petersen's, Sibley's), but it was my friend, Alison, who affirmed my suspicion that he is a Hooded Oriole.

Old Hoodie came back after a week. I heard his slight single-noted song, not very fancy but unique and went outside to snap the photo. I feel lucky he has visited twice. This is my first encounter with him and I hope he will return, whether or not I call him by his right name.

We are also getting our red-wing blackbirds in abundance. I took a number of shots down at the Port Costa Reservoir.