Peanuts In My Pocket

I’ve been thinking a lot about public parks over the last few months. As I’ve become more involved in birding, I’ve found that local parks are a decent source of birds. By decent, I mean they’re only slightly more productive than my own backyard. However, parks a little farther from home tend to offer greater biodiversity and better birding opportunities. That got me wondering why — but the answer is pretty obvious. When compared to those in neighboring cities, my local parks just don’t measure up.

I live in Buena Park, a small city in northern Orange County, California. It’s a fairly typical LA/OC basin city, with block after block of modest homes packed into nearly every available square inch. The remaining land is mostly commercial. Buena Park is classified as a city with very low open space, which means opportunities to build new parks are rare. With a population of around 84,000, we have 13 municipal parks and one county-run park located on the border with Fullerton.

Our parks are small, generally built to serve a neighborhood or community. That usually means a playground, basketball courts, maybe some tennis or softball/baseball facilities, and a large open field. Landscaping is minimal, just a few scattered trees and bushes. Some parks have covered picnic areas available for reservation. Overall, our parks are functional but unattractive. Still, they exist, and residents use them – myself included.

The park nearest to me is technically walkable, but not if I want to do any serious bird photography. The route takes me across a noisy freeway, past an elementary school, and through several residential streets. Walking near a school with a professional camera and a 2.5-foot lens tends to draw attention and questions, so I usually drive instead.

There’s little at that park to attract birds, and the constant freeway noise makes it hard to hear any birdsong. While it offers a safe place for dog-walking and playground fun, it doesn’t offer much else. When I show up with my camera, I often get suspicious looks from nearby parents; like I’m some kind of suspect from America’s Most Wanted. And frankly, there just aren’t many birds. It’s rarely worth the effort.

That said, I know the man who oversees the parks in my city, and to be fair, he does a good job. In recent years, I’ve seen new parks and upgraded features introduced consistently. He makes the most of the limited resources available. When he eventually retires, I hope the city considers honoring his contributions; maybe even naming a park after him.

Our main park is William Peak Park. It reminds me of the parks I knew growing up in Lynwood and later in Lakewood. These parks prioritized community sports and picnicking over everything else. Peak Park is slightly better, but still dated and underwhelming. It only shines during festivals. A disc golf course under the high-voltage wires would add some character, as would actual landscaping. Do all our parks have to feel like bulldozed lots planted with grass, a few trees, and maybe a walking path? At least on my last visit, I saw a few young families making use of what little was available.

I don’t have much hope for the birding situation to improve. Birds need more than grass and scattered trees. A couple of ponds would help, along with planting trees and shrubs known to attract birds. Neighboring cities seem to understand this. I can head to Cerritos, Long Beach, or Fullerton for much better birding. I consider myself community-minded, and I genuinely want to see Buena Park live up to its name.

Ralph B. Clark Park is technically within Buena Park’s borders, but I doubt many residents know about it. It’s county-run and requires a small entry fee, which might deter some visitors. I haven’t birded there yet, but I plan to soon. It has a pond, hiking trails, and is located near a large golf course, all good signs for bird diversity. However, it’s a bit out of the way. For weekday birding, I usually prefer the regional park in Cerritos. Weekends are too crowded to be enjoyable.

Compared to similarly sized cities, Buena Park should have 20 or more municipal parks. I don’t see that happening anytime soon, but one can hope. In the meantime, I’ve started a small side project that combines photography and birding: my goal is to take a high-quality photo of a unique bird species in each of the 14 local parks. Of course, there are one or two parks where this might not be possible. Rick Gomez Park, for instance, is a tiny pocket park squeezed between a highway and a freeway. I’m pretty sure hanging around there with a big lens will attract every nosy neighbor within a mile.