Today’s column is my 164th and final edition of “On the Wing.” Every two weeks, since 2018, I’ve written an article sharing my enthusiasm about our local birds and our many opportunities for enjoying them. Now, after writing two books on birds and more than two more books’ worth of bird columns, it’s time for me to step back from this particular form of avian evangelizing to look for fresh inspiration. The exploration of birds is an inexhaustible pursuit, but it may take other writers than myself to carry on that exploration with continual freshness.

Over the past six years and more, this column has explored a vast array of subjects in local birds. I’ve explored Marin’s raptors, shorebirds, ducks and non-duck waterbirds. We’ve covered the yearly cycle of spring migration, birdsong, the nesting season, fall migration and the winter relaxation when birds gather into flocks or subside into solitude. Tips have been shared on the best ways to access all this wild extravagance, with articles on getting started with birdwatching, using binoculars, tools for learning about birds and visiting hot spots from the local ponds to the coastal forests, from the shores of the Bay Area to the Central Valley.

But my area of greatest enthusiasm has always been our backyard and neighborhood birds, the familiar and sometimes homely companions of our day-to-day lives. Do you know all the birds that live on your street? Look back through the archives and you will find a portrait of just about all of them: towhees; sparrows; wrens; nuthatches; bushtits; titmice; chickadees; flickers; woodpeckers; waxwings; doves; quail; crows; house finches; siskins; goldfinches; orioles; robins; kinglets; great horned owls; hummingbirds; jays; and mockingbirds — all have received at least one column in the spotlight.

Perhaps the bird most emblematic of my approach is the first in that list: the humble California towhee. If you’ve somehow gone through life without establishing familiarity with this most familiar of birds, California towhees are large members of the sparrow family, almost uniformly dull brown, often noticed for the loud and piercing “dying smoke detector” chirps with which they announce their presence in almost every neighborhood in Marin. “Towhee” is in fact a misnomer, more properly applied to our only semi-related spotted towhee, which does say “towhee.” For today’s bird, I prefer the traditional folk name “brown chippie.”

But as with all birds, if you look closely enough, the humble brown chippie has its memorable and romantic side. This utterly plain bird lays decent claim, in fact, to being one of our most romantic birds, maintaining a year-round, life-long pair bond, in contrast to the majority of our local birds, which are only monogamous within a single nesting season. All year round, you’ll find the chippies foraging in pairs, two birds amiably side by side, or perhaps just out of sight of each other, but remaining in touch with high-pitched “seeet” calls given specifically for partner contact.

And all year round, but especially in spring, you’ll hear them join the mighty great horned owls as our only other bird that performs duets, joint performances of musical reinforcement of the pair bond. Not that the chippie duet is particularly musical as we understand the word, but it is endearing: One bird begins a jumbly cascade of squeaks, the other immediately joins in, and then the two rush together, often touching toes as they climb into the air before settling back down in mutual satisfaction.

But most of all I celebrate the California towhee because they are — as William Leon Dawson, the great 1920s chronicler of California birds, once wrote — “always around.” “Familiar objects,” he went on, “come to be dear to us through association … there are few Californians who would willingly spare the homely, matter-of-fact presence of this bird under foot.”

I hope that, over the last few years, this column has enhanced your sense of the familiar, and so made our birds a little more dear to you. I would not willingly spare the presence of the brown chippies, or that of the acorn-planting scrub-jays, the early-singing titmice or the wild, whispering waxwings with which we share the world. Look up and listen closer — you can always hear the voices of those living on the wing.

Jack Gedney is a co-owner of Wild Birds Unlimited in Novato and the author of “The Birds in the Oaks: Secret Voices of the Western Woods.” You can reach him at jack@natureinnovato.com.