OPEN-AIR AVIARY
by
Walter L. Meagher
Photos by Wayne Colony
My open-air aviary is in Atascadero. No netting, wire or reed restrains birds from coursing beyond its walls. Birds, like House Finches and hummingbirds, stop to take water at our fountain; some, like the White-winged Doves and Barn Swallows, sit patiently on the wires strung from pole to pole outside our house. 
Cortes would not be delighted by a sight so ordinary for he saw "an immense aviary, in which birds of splendid plumes were assembled from all parts of the empire…Three hundred attendants had charge of this aviary…and in the moulting season were careful to collect the beautiful plumage, which, with its many tints, furnished the materials for the Aztec painter." (1)
Other birds pass overhead. There are two kinds of passersby. Those that pass occasionally, including Great Egrets, who fly ENE to SWS in small bands, and, very rarely, three to four White Pelicans which transit in the evening light toward la presa. The other kind, and much more numerous, are the commuters. They pass regularly, not missing a day, and show no interest in the scenery. 
The White-faced Ibis fly up and back over the canyon, eastward in the morning, westward in the evening. They fly in a modified V-formation in at least three cohorts; there may be more than a thousand birds. They could be counted: a project Audubon might undertake. Another commuter is the Great-tailed Grackle. 
Grackles travel pell-mell. Each bird seems to fear losing contact with all before it. Grackles fly from daytime feeding grounds to night time roosts, each bird trailing another in aggregations of different sizes – 1, 2, 1, 5, 2, 10, 2 – one bird trying to catch up to a bird ahead, like children leaving a playground, hurrying to lunch. The ibis, grackle and Black-crowned Night-heron fly on schedule. They respond differently to light intensities. Light is their clock. Ibis and grackle fly as the light is dimming; their circadian rhythm is set to go ‘home’ at this hour.
The Black-crowned Night-heron is no different in this regard, but its cues are different: it travels in the gloaming, its clock at a different but fairly regular set. A single ‘quok’, followed by another ‘quok’, a deep guttural call, the Black-crowned Night-heron is heard before it is seen. We quickly open the door to the aviary to see the passing chunky bodies and broad wings slowly, steadily beating. Indeed, there is something of the recluse in these birds, fishermen of the night.
(1) William H. Prescott, 2001. History of the Conquest of Mexico The Modern Library, New York, p. 427.