Sooty shearwaters are rarely seen up close by land-bound humans. They travel in enormous flocks, numbering in the hundreds of thousands —all summer long they can (barely) be seen off the coast of California, just below the horizon, moving like an endless cloud over the water.
You hear its song before you see it: the sweet, high, fluttering whistle of the white-crowned sparrow. This plain little bird with the snazzy white stripes on its black head perches in the tops of shrubbery and lets its sweet song rip.
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