burrowing owl / Cesar Chavez Park Berkeley, CA
red-shouldered hawk and willows / East Shore State Park Berkeley, CA
peakin coyote / Wildcat Canyon Berkeley, CA
coyote / Wildcat Canyon Berkeley, CA
coyote / Wildcat Canyon Berkeley, CA
Berkeley, CA
Ahh, where to begin. This post has taken me a long time to get up because one day of tracking can yield volumes of stories and tales!
Our day at Abbott’s Lagoon a few weeks ago began with a morning of warm sunshine, after a few days of very cold temperatures and rain – as we started out towards the sand dunes near the beach we saw quite a few black-tailed mule deer in groups of over ten individuals. There was a herd of males of all different ages in an adjacent field, their antlers varying from sprouts to full racks. They seemed to be frolicking in the warm sun, play sparring and hopping around each other like fawns on a beautiful spring day. What really caught our eyes though was another group of deer to our north … one of them was standing guard to the west and not even our presence took this doe’s attention off something towards the eastern lagoon. Her behavior queued us in to another presence that warranted her attention more than humans. It had to be a predator.
As her group grazed, she seemed to be doing some tracking of her own. We decided to see what it was that garnered such focused attention, and we moved quietly across the chaparral to investigate. As we moved west, the look-out deer finally broke her sentry post and they all moved on to the east. We didn’t see what had attracted her attention, so we started to investigate the area where the deer were grazing to see what was for breakfast. As we moved west through the brush though, our efforts were rewarded as the hard ground gave way to add a character to the story by yielding a single clue … a fresh bobcat track in some soil upturned by a gopher!
We were able to trail it for a distance, the fresh tracks sometimes not visible at all, occasionally popping out for us to see in some loose soil after losing the trail for 20 feet at a time. With great reluctance after trailing the cat for 500 yards, we abandoned our search to see the maker of the tracks to continue on our journey towards the dunes. I would be rewarded later though …
bobcat tracks
Once at the sand dunes, we saw an explosion of activity that indicated many animals were eager to be out after so many days of cold and/or rain. Another bobcat made some nice trails, along with black-tailed mule deer, river otters, coyotes, gray fox, great-blue herons, ravens, deer mice, beetles, brush rabbits, skunks, opossum, raccoon, and more. There was a lot of skunk sign, and we postulated that they were very active after a short period of torpor (similar to hibernation) that left them hungry and in search of mates. Deer mouse sign was also everywhere, their small tracks making trails all over the dunes.
raven tracks
river otter scat and tracks
brush rabbit tracks
great-blue heron tracks
striped skunk trail
striped skunk tracks
Virginia opossum tracks
bounding mouse tracks
The evidence of another saga soon played out on the sand dunes before me – a bobcat trail that showed what I determined to be a recently captured brush rabbit. The trail had drag marks that extended under the cat for 30 yards to a spot where it did tight circles as it either made the final kill or adjusted the prey in its jaws, then sat for a bit. The trail went on then for 20 yards up into some dune grasses where there were bits of rabbit fur and presumably the cat ate its meal.
bobcat trail with drag marks
bobcat tracks
bobcat sit spot
This particular area usually is thick with coyote sign, and seldom have we seen gray fox sign here – but this day showed evidence of at least one fox that had traveled with purpose around the whole area. The tracks are dainty next to the many coyote tracks, and I was excited to see find the trail.
gray fox track
I trailed one of them for half a mile down the beach, its tracks following the vegetation line at the edge of the beach, at one point going down into the surf area where the water washed away its paw prints at the last high tide before it veered back up to continue on its journey north towards Kehoe Beach (where their sign is much more prevalent according to others familiar with the area). It was a very purposeful gait, seldom stopping to investigate the ocean flotsam along the shore. What spurred this fox on an unhurried yet purposeful journey on the beach? The search for a mate? A territorial scouting mission? Food? It will be interesting to see if there is more sign in the future or if the foxes will remain more north towards Kehoe beach after this.
gray fox tracks
At one point as I backtracked one of the bobcats, I was excited to catch sight of an American bittern hunting in the floating vegetation on the edge of the east lagoon. Among the live animals I saw this day were great-blue herons, ravens, gulls, two snowy plovers (a very endangered species), red-tailed hawks, white-tailed kites, northern harriers, turkey vultures, yellow-rumped warblers, black-tailed mule deer, a peregrine falcon and …
American bittern
song sparrow
great-blue heron
marsh wren
snowy plover
snowy plover
striped skunk
coyote
… a bobcat!
bobcat
Good stuff.
The dunes are ever-shifting, they can be an amazing palette for animal tracks or the tracks of the wind, giving a brief glimpse at the stories played out in the hours before. But the winds eventually wipe the slate clean like words fading on a page, as the dunes make their own tracks across the landscape.
wind design in sand by dune grass
cattails buried in sand dune
Rough-legged, that is.
Hawk.
Last Saturday I helped lead a raptor tour at Lynch Canyon for Solano County Land Trust with Larry Broderick of West County Hawk Watch … and I don’t think anyone was disappointed. Two rough-legged hawks made an appearance along with the many resident red-tailed hawks, white-tailed kites, kestrels, northern harriers, red-shouldered hawks, turkey vultures, and a pair of golden eagles. We also had two peregrine falcons soar over us. Good day. Rough-legged hawks breed in the Arctic and it is uncommon to see them this far south, though this year there seem to be more of them than usual during the winter here in the Bay Area.
Check out some of the other tours that Larry Broderick leads at the Sonoma Land Trust and Solano Land Trust websites – he is the raptor magnet and always fun to tour with.
rough-legged hawk
rough-legged hawk
rough-legged hawk
golden eagle
red-tailed hawk
I was spoiled the other day while observing peregrine falcons (besides the fact that I was observing peregrine falcons!) – a fellow East Bay photographer, George Suennen, let me borrow his “more advanced” (aka more expensive) lens setup for a couple of shots (Canon EF 300mm f/2.8L IS II USM Telephoto Lens with a 2x teleconverter). I REALLY REALLY don’t want to like this piece of equipment, but … WOW. Very gracious of him to offer for me to use it, I’m not sure if I thank him or curse him for putting that thing in my hands!!
oprey / Albany mudflats CA
Right now I typically shoot with a different Canon 300mm lens – the Canon EF 70-300mm f/4-5.6 IS USM (but I DON’T have a 2x teleconverter attached – which brings the L-series lens setup to an equivalent of 600mm!). To understand the difference in lenses, a visual comparison is in order of course. Both images below are cropped close to 100% but no other post-processing has been applied (sharpening, contrast/brightness adjustment, etc). The same camera body was used. The difference between the lens setups is very evident.
 Canon 70-300mm zoom lens |
 Canon L-series 300mm fixed lens w/ 2x teleconverter |
Are the results worth 14x the amount of money more? I suppose that’s an individual choice. It’s certainly understandable why this lens is rated one of the best in the Canon lineup, and a standard for many sports and wildlife photographers. Until I make the jump, I’ll have to continue to get close to subjects without disturbing them to get clear shots … which is a large part of the fun – and helps to force me to really get the most out of my equipment and techniques.
Last night the waxing moon, almost full, was in close conjunction (less than one degree) with Jupiter (seen bottom right of photo as a small spec of light).
No, I didn’t find El Chupacabra – THE Goatsucker.
Yet.
However, my visit to Briones Regional Park a couple of days ago (see here for the blog entry) reminded me of my last visit a couple of months ago during which I saw a Goatsucker at close range and after dark.
That’s right, a Goatsucker.
And it makes perfect sense, because after darkness falls is when they come out.
I was walking back to my jeep well after dark on a moonless night, with no light, on a trail that wound back and forth over some open grazing land on the edge of a forest of oaks and bay laurel trees, descending sharply at times on its way back to the parking area. My eyes were adjusted well enough to see the outline of the trail before me, but other than the stars in the sky and some distant city lights, that was the extent of my vision. But the lack of sight, often our primary sense as we move through the world, necessitates that the other senses step it up a notch. Sounds, and the changing feel of cool moist air or warmer drier air on my skin help determine the terrain around me, and an internal “feeling” of the landscape, or inner vision, takes over. It’s a magical time to be out. And this particular night did not disappoint.
Suddenly a small fluttery form came towards my head in the night, and for a moment I thought it was a bat. But as my eyes focused on it, I saw that it circled quickly around me then flew down to the ground to become “invisible” on the path in front of me. It wasn’t a bat. I paused and stood completely still, using peripheral vision to sense movement if it flew up again as I grasped in my pocket for a small LED flashlight. Again after a few seconds, I saw the small form flutter up just a foot from my head then back down to a spot on the trail.
I turned my light on and shielded the lens so the light wouldn’t scare the creature, and it was then that I realized it was a Goatsucker!
common poorwill
The Goatsuckers, or Caprimulgidae Family of birds, are composed of birds also know as nighthawks and nightjars. On the East Coast one of these birds is called the whip-poor-will, and it makes a unique sound that is often heard after dark in wooded areas where they live. But they are very seldom seen because they are nocturnal and extremely well camouflaged. Here on the West Coast we primarily have a close relative of the whip-poor-will (once considered the same species), called the common poorwill. These nocturnal birds are a strange-looking group, and their camouflage is absolutely amazing.
My pictures aren’t so clear, my point and shoot camera – the first thing I grabbed – had some trouble focusing on such a small target in almost complete darkness. Do a web search for images of the common poorwill and one can see clearer pictures showing how unique in appearance they are.
common poorwill (cropped and zoomed)
Interestingly, this bird is observed to be the only known bird that “hibernates” – or more accurately, goes into a torpor – slowing its metabolism and reducing its body temperature as if in a deep sleep during some of the winter months. According to some online resources, the Hopi called this little bird “The Sleeping One” in their language.
I was able to watch this little creature continue hunting small insects for about five minutes in the area around me. It was a continuous cycle of lifting off from the ground, where it lay motionless and virtually undetectable, to flitting up in the air about 6 feet off the ground to capture insects, quickly descending back to a new landing point nearby. Slowly it hopped this way and that, repeating the process over and over, until finally I lost sight of it.
A great ending to my wanders that day.
While helping work on a construction project in Berkeley, this hummingbird was doing some construction of its own! I noticed on the first day I was there that a hummingbird kept landing on one particular branch. The next morning, I inspected closer and realized the foundation of a nest had been built since I left the night before.
Anna’s hummingbird building nest
The bird would come back with feathers and other small bits of vegetation to add to the nest, and a number of times I saw it fly to the window panes around the house to gather silk cobwebs. Amazing.
Anna’s hummingbird in nest
A few days ago I spent a late afternoon in Briones East Bay Regional Park, a large expanse of mixed-use wooded/grazing land just over the hills from the East Bay. I knew it was going to be a good couple of hours when I spotted a hatch year (juvenile) bald eagle right after getting out of my jeep.
hatch year (juvenile) bald eagle
The eagle lazily circled and started to track south, and a few of the local resident red-tailed hawks went up to “usher it” onward and away from their territory.
My wandering quickly took me off the trail, onto a trail only known to my feet beneath me and the heart in my chest. My feet walked, climbed and scrambled up higher and higher onto a ridge line. I suppose I’m always looking for pumas and puma sign, and it seemed to be a likely starting point to find it. Once I was up on one of the highest peaks in the immediate area, there was a bit of a flat wooded area that I started to explore.
As I was quietly coming up a saddle from the main flat area down towards another little flat area, I saw a few young steer that started to move away from me – unused to seeing a person up there, I imagine. Also unused to seeing a person up there was the coyote that I just caught a glimpse of as it left its resting spot at the top of the saddle and slipped over the hill top out of sight, just 25 feet from me. I decided to have a little bit of fun with it, so I dropped down off the saddle towards a ravine that was thick with bay laurel trees and some oaks. I could hear the coyote moving there just out of sight below me as it trotted and paused in the crunchy dead leaf hubris of the forest floor, and for some reason I decided to give a short little bark. It was an earnest attempt to connect with this other being, not much thought went into it other than a deep desire to say hello.
What happened next was a 15 minute exchange of the two of us “talking” back and forth and checking each other out from a distance. At first I think the coyote wasn’t quite sure what I was (manimal?!!!). Below is a short recording of one of our exchanges. The coyote was probably within 25 yards of me the entire time, until some other hikers started to come up into the area after hearing the noise and the coyote departed. My voice is the short yip initiating the “conversation,” followed by the coyote and then us alternating.
It seemed as if it was alone, and I was very grateful to get to spend some time with it that evening. After scouting around I found an old deer kill, but otherwise I found no reason for the coyote to be so curious or possibly defensive. It’s probably too early for a den to be active with pups in January.
After watching the sunset perched underneath an oak that was sitting on high hill by itself, I followed a ridge line down into the valleys towards my vehicle. After hearing a pair of great-horned owls hooting right as the sun set, I was on the lookout – and they didn’t disappoint. As I approached the parking lot, one of them flew nearby and landed on an old fence post, surveying the encroaching dark for its breakfast.
feralzach 