Sonoma Hills Hike, Little Bird on the Side of the Trail

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Finally! It’s the end of my work week. I’m through the traffic and back home in Sonoma. After getting a few things done, I still have a little over an hour before sunset to get a hike in. I head over to SDC’s Eldridge Trail. I need to shake off my day and there’s nothing like a long, steep hill to work that out.


It’s a great evening for a hike. Nearly any evening is a great evening for a hike! It’s cool and fairly muddy following the last couple of days of rain. Some of the uphill is a little slippery, but overall, hiking in the mud is good times!


At Fern Lake I head due west and take the trail up to the “back door” of Camp Via. I hike here regularly but marvel each time at the magnificence. A sweeping meadow, filled with long abandoned fruit trees bordered by a Redwood covered ridge top. There are plums, pears, apples and blackberries for the taking in season, and I pick here every year. It gives me pause, in a good way, and I take a moment to soak it in.


The day is getting long so I’m making good time on the trail. It’s downhill time now, towards the Grandmother Tree. What’s this? My brain stumbles, and I think, “Did someone put a stuffed bird on the edge of the trail?” (I know, right?) There is what appears to be, a real bird, standing stock still about 3 inches inside the trail.


My hackles are raised. I pass slowly by, close by, looking. This is a real bird, but. . . weird. . . If it was dead, it wouldn’t still be upright, would it? I step back and turn to look closer. I think I see it breathing!


I don’t want to scare it, but obviously something is amiss. I take a photo for identification later, and then slowly approach. Speaking gently to the bird as I move, knowing my presence will most likely startle it, I verify the bird is indeed breathing. It’s eyes are open and it’s just standing there!


I’m right next to it I see no movement other than the rise and fall of its’ little chest. I visually examine it for any obvious injury. Both feet and legs look intact. The wings look good. No fluids pooling underneath or anything else noticeable. Hmm. . .


Perhaps the bird has chicks in the brush, although out of season? Perhaps it is temporarily stunned for some reason? Playing opossum from a nearby predator? My heart wants to wrap the beautiful little bird in my jacket and take it with me. But I need to observe first.


I move over the crest of the next rise, where I can still see the bird, and make myself still. Nothing. The other birds resume flitting about the trees in the absence of my noise, but that is all.


I move even further back and watch a few more moments. My instinct tells me to leave the bird where it is, that I don’t know the whole story. It’s difficult, but I honor my instinct so it will continue to honor me.


I head down the hill and back home to relay my story and look up what kind of bird it was. A male Varied Thrush. What a sweet beauty! My husband looks at the photo and listens to my tale of the little yellow bird standing on the side of the path. As a fellow animal lover, of course he feels sad for the little bird. Now I start to wonder if I should hike back up and get it.


I call the local Wildlife Rescue Hotline and the Songbird and Robin Hospital, but it’s late and everyone is closed. And . . . they are not accepting baby Crow’s by the way. It pulls on my heart strings, but I know my instinct was correct.


I wake up around midnight. The nightmares are bad tonight. And now I’m thinking of the bird. Visions of it standing still, frozen and dead, on the side of the trail where I left it, begin to creep into my mind. Of course the bird is not still there, but the image will not leave me.


I can’t get back to sleep and the clock ticks slowly by. The sun will be up in an hour or so and I know where I’m going. Back up the hill. I also know the bird won’t be there, but I need to see. 20 minutes later, I’m slipping silently out the door.


It’s still dark so I start out with my headlamp on, but soon enough the sky lightens and I can hike without it. I take the shortest route, which is maybe 1 ½ miles up. The trails are covered with spider webs. I ruin their hard work as I make my way, but it is unavoidable.


Sunrise at Fern Lake! What a treat! Something I probably would not have experienced had I not encountered that bird standing on the side of the trail.


I hike up the last hill and return to the spot where I saw the bird. Of course he isn’t here. I poke around the surrounding brush for a carcass but there is no sign of him. Either he recovered from his temporary ailment and moved on, or, more likely, provided a nice meal for something else.


I enjoyed the pre-dawn hike, and the image of a frozen little bird, standing on the side of the trail, has left my mind. His fate I’ll never know, but the experience moved me nonetheless.


The sun is visible for my hike down and the valley is gorgeous! Slanted light, rakes the peaks of the hills behind me as I make my descent. What a wonderful way to start to the day - thank you little Varied Thrush.

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