Extra-SEFI Adventures

Southeast Farallon Island is the only inhabited island in a small archipelago of granite rocks thrust out of the sea just east of where the sea floor drops from 300ft deep to almost two miles deep. Most Farallon researchers spend all of their time on SEFI, but I was lucky enough to be invited along on two trips off of SEFI and onto (or near) some of the other Farallon Islands.

The first trip was a boat journey to North Farallones to survey roosting Brandt's and Pelagic Cormorants, as well as pinnipeds. The sea was almost glassy and the pewter sky reflected off the ocean to create a surreal feel to the whole day. Were we boating through the sky or the sea?

North Farallon Islands, glassy sea.

It took about an hour to get there in the SAFE boat (the one we use to schlep gear back and forth from our supply boats to the island). The "islands" are small and jutting steeply out of the water so there is no landing spot--we circled each islet to get a count of the birds and pinnipeds, and took photographs of this bizarre collection of oceanic monoliths. We found a pair of Peregrine Falcons roosting above the cormorants on one islet, perhaps biding their time between meals.

Pinnipeds checking us out while we checked them out.

On our way back to SEFI, we swung by Middle Farallon--which is called "the Pimple" by some--a single rock in the crashing swell (well, not that day...it was more a gentle licking).

Middle Farallon, looking back towards SEFI.

The second extra-SEFI adventure was a trip across the Jordan Channel to West End, also called Maintop Island, to count Northern Fur Seals, California Sea Lions, and Steller's Sea Lions. Four of us suited up in full body harnesses and clipped into the 20 foot zipline to pull ourselves (one-by-one, of course) across the channel while California Sea Lions surfed the waves in the waters 15 feet below.

Jonathan and Nyssa (USFWS) strap into the full body harnesses.

The Jordan Channel zipline.

This is me, halfway across the channel on the line.

Then we hiked into the center of the island to a perch above a flat terrace where all the Fur Seals hang out. It sounded like a goat ranch. Baby Fur Seals bleat like little baby goats. They also sit in the most adorable positions and use their incredibly long hind flippers to scratch their chins and swat away the flies.

Young Northern Fur Seal hangout.

Adorbz.

Just look at those long flippers!

After we finished the count, we climbed to the top of Maintop--a 220 foot scramble up the granite dome--and relished in the breeze. The fog prevented us from enjoying the view back towards our little home island (you couldn't see it AT ALL), but it still felt amazing to be on top of the second highest rock in the archipelago.

Almost too foggy to see Saddle Rock, definitely too foggy to see Lighthouse Hill!

This view is (obviously) not from the top of Maintop because my camera ran out of batteries before we climbed it.

These adventures were a great little getaway from the monotony of foggy, virtually birdless surveys during a week straight of socked-in fog and few migrants.

There Are So Many Flies

To get an idea about the conditions in which I have been conducting field work in the last few weeks, read this post on the Farallones blog. It will terrify you. There is even a video. You might feel sick. Not really (unless you have pteronarcophobia, a phobia of flies), so please read this blog post. We worked really hard on it. The flies have become an obsession over the last few days because it has been so birdless. WE'RE GOING FLY CRAZY!

Trying to out-zen the flies. Not an easy task.

Birdless

There are no songbirds here. Correction: there are three individual songbirds here. Three. There are more people on the island than songbirds. I spend my days wandering around the island, searching every nook and cranny for invisible birds, and being swarmed by flies (more news on the flies soon). We were socked in with fog for a week, but the last few days have been sunny with a breeze. Neither are conducive to migrants landing on the island. It's gonna pick-up soon, I know it! 

I haven't been taking many pictures lately, and a lot of them were washed out in the fog, so I messed around with the contrast and colors on a few. Enjoy!

Great Blue Heron perched regally on the tippy-top of Saddle Rock.

Ruddy Turnstone with extra color saturated legs.

Sunset behind Maintop. There haven't been many clear enough evenings for sunsets, so this was great.

The California Sea Lions don't mind the flies as much as we do.

A Least Flycatcher I banded. Sweet bird.

Shout Out

Check out my friend Dan's new blog, Bird Crusher. He's got some ridick-awesome photos of birds (and some other cool critters too) and I guess you could say he's pretty hilarious. His photos make me wish I could throw down my non-existent money on some fancy camera equipment (a point-and-shoot just doesn't cut it when you want to "Crush face-melters" as Dan would put it, I want a DSLR and a good lens). Until then, I'll just stalk Dan's blog and drool over the crisp purple iridescent feathers of a Costa's Hummingbird (see his first post) or the awesome shallow depth-of-field in that photo of a Grace's Warbler. Geez, Dan.

Here's a photo from my camera, which is a great camera--now I feel bad for coveting something "better"...

Tufted Puffin launching itself off the cliff into a flapping frenzy of flight.

Mini Waves

This last week, we had a few good days of overcast skies with low visibility and a light south wind--perfect for pushing migrating birds down to our little rock. We call these "wave days". These recent waves were tiny compared to what happens if the ideal weather conditions occur in late September/early October, but when you have only four or five species of songbird on the island (and only one or two individuals of each species), doubling or tripling your species count feels like a lot!

One of the days, the Coast Guard tree was dripping with warblers: Yellow, Wilson's, Tennessee, Townsend's, Hermit, and a Black-throated Gray. Later, a Northern Waterthrush showed up, bobbing below the gravity tank half-way up the Lighthouse Hill Trail. We had a few flycatchers (Willow, Pacific-slope, and a Western Wood-pewee) being sneaky in the tree as well. We had a Phainopepla, only the 7th record for the island, as well as a Blue-gray Gnatcatcher, a Cliff Swallow, a Hooded Oriole, a few Bullock's Orioles, Black-headed Grosbeak, a Western Tanager, a Yellow-headed Blackbird, a couple of Mockingbirds, Chipping, Lark, and Savannah Sparrows, a House Wren, and eventually a MacGillivray's Warbler and a Common Yellowthroat. A few shorebirds stopped by, including Short-billed Dowitchers, Least and Western Sandpipers, and a couple of Semipalmated Plovers. A pretty good week so far!

Yellow Warbler.

Western Sandpiper.

First banded bird of the Fall season, a Western Wood-pewee.

Tennessee Warbler hiding in the Lavaterra.

A color-banded Townsend's Warbler (female).

One of two Semipalmated Plovers.

Northern Waterthrush.

Ghost Waterthrush.

Seabird Stragglers

A cool thing about being here in the early season is the straggler seabird breeders still in their purdy breeding plumage and their cute babies begging for dinner.

Brandt's Cormorant sitting on a chick.

What a squidgy little alien thing!

Pigeon Guillemot, tell-tale white wing patches not visible.

 Tufted Puffin!

In other news, we had a few birds show up today! The south wind and overcast skies pushed us a Bullock's Oriole, Yellow-headed Blackbird, Yellow Warbler, and a Least Sandpiper or two. I didn't get any pictures. I'll try harder.

Back on the Rock

As I stepped off the Safe Boat and walked up the familiar cart path on the island I spent 9 weeks on last fall, it almost felt like a different island was staring me down. When I left Southeast Farallon Island (SEFI from now on) on December 8, 2012, it was lush green, devoid of most birds, and just barely beginning to be overthrown by breeding Elephant Seals. Now, in mid-August, it is the end of the seabird breeding season and the island has been literally jam-packed with nests and chicks and guano for the past 5-6 months. All the emerald grass has shriveled to nothing and blown away or been used for nesting material. Looking out over the Marine Terrace feels like seeing in sepia tones (it also might be a side-effect of the fog).

The cart path in December 2012.

The cart path in August 2013.

Everything, I mean everything, is covered in green-white-brown gull shit. The gulls are screaming constantly but that is something I am very used to, almost comforted by, thanks to working on the California Gull colony at Mono Lake. Our Area Searches are turning up nothing but three Eurasian Collared-doves. The first day we were here there were two Western Flycatchers, but must've high-tailed it to the mainland as soon as the fog lifted for a moment. I am incredibly happy to be here, fog and all.

Blurry Western Flycatcher, first photo I took on the island this year, in the Coast Guard Tree.