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.

Summer Thunder at Mono Lake

There is nothing like a summer thunderstorm to slow your afternoon down and remind you to take the time to just breathe and feel the air change and charge around you. The sky growls purple and the clouds build until they heavily drop bottom-first to the heat swollen earth. The rain rarely makes it to the desert soil, though you can see it coming down in sheets. The wind surges, pushing the storm quickly over your head and away to light someone else's afternoon with clashes of exciting lightning, and the sky returns to crystal blue and gilded sunlight.

I'm back in the Eastern Sierra after a whirlwind three weeks (has it been that long?) of post-island life. I departed Santa Cruz Island in good spirits after jumping off the pier with my crew, and saw Humpback Whales, Common Dolphins, and thousands of Sooty Shearwaters feeding with them on the ride back. Upon arriving at the mainland, still salty and damp from the ocean, I hopped in my truck and drove three and a half hours to Fossil Falls, a crazy beautiful volcanic rock formation south of Lone Pine, CA. It was quite late and quite warm when I set up my camp in the deserted BLM campground and the wind was beginning to pick up with incredibly forceful gusts. It felt amazing to be alone yet content on that balmy desert night, just me, basalt, a cinder cone, the wind, and the sky.

Fossil Falls in 2008. Solid basalt smoothed and carved by water and wind.

I made it home to Lee Vining the next day, where the Mono Basin Bird Chautauqua was soon to begin. Summertime on the Eastside was in full swing. I lead two fantastic field trips for the birding festival and reunited with my Eastside gang around the campfire.

INTERRUPTIVE NOTE: It just started pouring! The thunder is directly above me. Epic! I am outside, safely huddled under a big (wooden) umbrella at the Latte Da coffee shop.

After the festival, I drove home to Marin for my cousin Robin's wedding to the lovely Shelton and her awesome son Shiloh. It was a beautiful ceremony and a fun village event with many of Robin's friends playing live music until the summer sun was long gone. Next up was my friend Bailey's wedding in Walla Walla, WA, so I drove up with a two day pit-stop in Ashland, OR to pick pie cherries off the neighbor's tree and play board games with my dear friends Morgan and Forrest. Walla Walla was a joyous reunion of my dorm-mates from my freshman year of college and a sweet celebration of Bailey and his bride Kaity's love.

UPDATE: It is now a monumental downpour. Lightning just struck literally 100 feet from where I am sitting (now inside) and the thunderclap shook the building. I love this.

This sure doesn't do the rain justice.

So, now I am back in Lee Vining, camping (my bed must be soaked right now, despite the tarp) for the week, then out to the Mono Lake islets to band California Gull chicks. The rest of my summer consists of playing (aka birding and hiking) around here as well as in Oregon, harmonizing with Ooolation! Singers in the aspens above Lee Vining, and enjoying funemployment while I can.

Mid-August will bring me back to Southeast Farallon Island for 5-6 weeks, and then back to Santa Cruz Island I go! I'll try to blog about some fun summer natural history tidbits in between. Until then, get out and enjoy wherever you are, I know I am!

These Birds

For someone who studies birds for work and watches birds for passion, I haven't written much about them in this blog. I'm not sure why this is. I live and breathe birds everyday and I observe things that awe me regularly, but I rarely think "remember to blog about that later!". I guess that is something I'll have to work into my thoughts if I am going to try to preserve these experiences outside of my mind.

Tree Pose.

At the beginning of the season, I watched a male Island Scrub Jay foraging in his territory. Hubble, color combination UWB/AY (blue over white over black on the left leg, aluminum over yellow on the right), was landing on the thin, flexible branches of an Island Ceanothus, Ceanothus arboreus, and picking at the insects on the seedpods. The weight of his body caused the whole branch to bow almost to the ground so he dangled upside-down, swinging like a little monkey while he gulped down bugs. I couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Quick sketch of Hubble's acrobatics.

Hubble, UWB/AY. What a stud.

The last month of our season has been focused on Brownhead Surveys. We search each territory for 10-30 minutes looking for fledged young. We call them Brownheads because they have a solid gray-brown head and back, unlike the adults who have blue feathers on their head. Brownheads are notoriously awkward and klumsy. They flutter their wings and beg with this high-pitched squeaking "feeeeeeee-eee-eeed meee-eeee-eeee-eee". They crash through vegetation in pursuit of their siblings and trip on their own little gray legs. They also are very good at sitting still and being quiet when their mama tells them to. Until they get bored and let out a whine or break a stick and fall a few inches. Goofballs.

Hopsecutioner Fledge. Look at his little awkward gape (the pink on the side of his bill).

The Hopsecutioner pair, AP/ORK and POG/AP, were pretty sneaky this year (their first year as a pair; the female used to be with BPG/AP, who probably died over the winter, and the male was born in 2010 and this is seemingly his first mating attempt). We didn't know for sure whether or not they had a nest for a long time and then we figured they had failed because we hadn't been seeing any signs of nest activity, so I went in to find and "veg" the nest (aka measure how far it is from the ground and identify the species of tree it is in) and was pleasantly surprised to find a freshly hopped out fledgling crashing around in the ceanothus. I took a GPS point and got out of there as quickly as I could so I didn't attract any predators. We detected one fledgling every three days for almost two weeks straight with no sign of more than one. Then one day, I saw one bird in a large willow in the creekbed and I thought I saw another dark shape bumbling klumsily through the branches. I crawled through the Baccharis (Coyote Bush) to get to the willow and there I found not one, not two, but FOUR fledglings bopping around in the tree. The parents both flew in to investigate me, but the babies were all big enough that they no longer needed to protect them from on the ground "predators" like me. I counted and re-counted and four it stayed. The four siblings were squabbling and squeaking at each other and begging to be fed. I stood in awe for a good five minutes, repeating out-loud to no one in particular "Four? Four? How did that happen? What? FOUR?" So congratulations AP/ORK, you sure are starting out strong! The four Brownheads are still out and about, getting bigger and a little less doofy every day.

Recently banded fledge, likely from Saranac.

The Most Beautiful Flower of All

Hidden in this fairy glade is the naked stalk of a shy beauty just waiting to bloom.

Humboldt Lily, Lilium humboldtii.

This California endemic (also a species of special environmental concern) likes the shaded oak woodlands on the dense north-facing slopes. It blooms from March to May and never fails to take my breath away. I eagerly awaited this particular plant's blooming day, checking the glade every three days until the maroon speckled, golden-orange blossoms burst forth into the light. My heart skipped a beat when I finally saw them in their full glory.

This plant is taller than me!

Even the leaves are soft and smooth and beautiful.