kyrialyse

Palo Alto Bayshore/Mountain View Shoreline

2010-01-03T22:52:33Z

When I visit Santa Cruz, I go to all my old favorite places.

Today, I went to more old favorite places than I planned on, because I took 280 by mistake, passed Rancho San Antonio, and turned around at Page Mill Road.

Back on track, I arrived at Palo Alto Bayshore in a cold, thick mist, out of which a brilliant male Ring-Necked Pheasant walked right up to me as I stood blinking. He was so tame that I'm pretty sure people feed him.

I birded Bayshore for a while, headed down past Bixby Park, and then drove to the other end of the wetland at Mountain View Shoreline. Around 55 species total; no White-Tailed Kite (dammit! my favorite bird and normally a cinch there), Blue-Winged Teal, Northern Pintail, Fox or (oddly) Savannah Sparrows, and no Barrow's Goldeneye, and too many damn Canada Geese, but lots of my old friends were there. That wetland is where I started birding, some time around 2001 (it happened progressively), and the avocets were there, probably the descendants of the original avocets who gave me the moment that made me a birder. It was where I saw my first Cinnamon and Green-Winged Teal, among many others ... I think also my first Northern Shoveler, my first Ruddy Duck, my first just about every kind of water bird... and they were all there today.

I guess there have probably always been nonbreeding-plumage Black-Bellied Plovers in winter, and two different kinds of tiny peep that I can actually tell apart (Western and Least Sandpipers), but today was the first time I went there with the skills to see those.

Morongo Christmas Bird Count

2009-12-20T17:58:10Z

I went on my first Christmas Bird Count yesterday.

I thought it would be like a normal birding trip, only sort of boring, because of having to count every individual. I envisioned me and five or six other people walking around the Morongo preserve counting House Finches one by one.

Not. It's a sort of birding gathering of the clans. The parking lot fills with cars and throngs of people appear. Eventually, in a chaotic process, everyone gets signed in and assigned to a team, each of which has an area in the general locality to bird.

I peered over someone's shoulder to see the assigned lists, then asked if I could be on a specific team. Glad I did because we saw the best birds... more on that later.

Eventually everyone takes off -- my team in a van driven by a big, genial ex-cop named Mike --and goes to their area. Ours was Whitewater Preserve.

The reason for counting, or at least estimating, all the birds, which are mostly resident birds this time of year, even common ones, is to get an idea of changes over time. Sure, this year we counted fifty bajillion White-Crowned Sparrows, but the migrating population of this species, the ones here, breed in the High Sierras, so they might conceivably be affected by growing season, etc. changes brought on by global climate change. If we see a declining trend in the bajillions, we'll know that something's amiss.

Among the best birds we saw were a female Hooded Merganser on the trout ponds; a Sora, my first, which is a little rail with a bright yellow bill and a cute, sneaky, wide-eyed affect; a Peregrine Falcon; a male Northern Harrier; and the eagle.

As we were around somewhere in San Gorgonio Pass, the monarch of birds suddenly landed on a creosote bush (it was bigger than the bush) next to the road. I remember yelling, "Stop! Stop! Eagle, eagle, eagle!!" It was massive, an adult, bronze and gilt. By far the closest I've ever been to one.

Afterward, everyone meets up back at the central point, and some people go home while others stay for the compilation. I stayed, and it was fun to hear the news "Area 1 saw a Golden Eagle... a car's length away!" move around the crowd.

Eventually, after pizza and cider, one of the leaders starts calling out names. He intones, "Clan McGregor!" and we all shout, "McGregor Aboo!" -- no, actually, he says something like "White-Crowned Sparrow", and everyone says "Yes," and then each team says how many they had, with oohs and aahs for the rare species, confusion about whether coots are ducks (they're not), misreadings of how many someone had of something ("71 White-Breasted Nuthatches??") that eventually get cleared up, and so on.

It was great. I think I'll go again next year.

In which I climb Queen Mountain by mistake and get totally schooled

2009-12-06T16:20:57Z

There I was, driving out to Joshua Tree, thinking things like "It's so great to be back here for the first time this winter! This is my backyard park! I know every inch of it!"

It was great to be there, but otherwise, it should be written somewhere in stone that THOU SHOULDST NOT ENTERTAIN HUBRISTIC THOUGHTS ABOUT THE DESERT. OTHERWISE THE DESERT SHALL MIGHTILY SCHOOL THEE.

I got on what my map seemed to say was the trail to Pine City. A ways out, the trail became a ducked route leading up the steep face of a ridge. OK, no problem. This happens in Joshua Tree.

Then the trail hit the top of the ridge and seemed to disappear. At that point, I figured I had missed the Pine City trail. Again, no problem, this happens. I figured I would cross back over the ridge, head back down, and drive to another trailhead. I couldn't find my back trail since I had messed around on the ridge for a while, but on my way back in the right general direction I found the trail farther up, clearly marked with ducks.

What the heck -- it was a trail and I would follow it. Eventually, I caught up with some people and asked them where I was -- I wasn't lost at this point, knew how to get back, but these routes were not on my map at all, so I was curious about the name of this place in which I had found myself -- and learned that I had just about finished climbing Queen Mountain and the summit was "right up there".

At this point, I should have considered that there might be karmic payback in store for me, not only for being hubristic but because almost two weeks ago I made huge amounts of fun of Clarence King for accidentally climbing Lone Pine Peak and then Mount Tyndall while trying to get up Mount Whitney.

I climbed the mountain, with some fun, easy scrambling, and signed the summit register. The view was beautiful and there was a pair of Canyon Wrens on top.

Then I came down and... things got strange.

Later, after drawing diagrams, I figured out that at some point, I missed my trail down. And then my brain froze. It's weird, what happens when you're lost, even when you know what can happen. I was OK on the micro-things -- this is how I get back to that duck, this is the white knobbly rock I'll use to guide on if I can't make it down this part of the ridge. But the macro things? Like WHICH WAY IS NORTH? Not so much. I criss-crossed the ridge over and over, getting more scared and confused (and I had a compass, and I could see the sun, although it was about noon when I got lost), and could not find the way back down because I had some kind of mental block about going back to where I would have found it because "that's not the right way", and at some point I got so confused that I decided to just follow the trail that I had found out, even though I knew it wasn't the way I had come. I figured it would take me somewhere that I could walk or hitch out of.

Mind you, at this point I think I am going south, just a bit west of where I should be, but in fact I am going north. And I'm trying not to panic, but I'm getting there. Even though I have enough gear to spend the night out if I have to, I'm about as scared as I've ever been on a hike, partly because of the confusion, the way suddenly nothing looks familiar.

I dropped down this rough, scrambly trail for a while, and there I found a boulderer, and asked him for directions. The luck I had in finding anyone at all down there boggles my mind. He must have thought I was an idiot, but he managed to persuade me that I was going the wrong way and that I should turn left, not right, at a crucial point.

He also told me the trail I was on went nowhere except a bouldering area deep in the wilderness. If you look on the map, north of Queen Mountain there is nothing but squiggly lines for a long, long way.

I went back, followed his advice, and got on the right trail... and it *still* looked like nowhere I had ever been before, until suddenly I recognized Ryan Mountain and White Shield Rock, and that, let me tell you, was a huge relief. It was dark by the time I drove home. I was just glad not to be huddled somewhere in my space blanket.

Aside from what should have been a short hike turning into an epic, and learning a lesson about hubris and dissing the mountaineers of the past, this is the lesson I learned:

When lost, your brain freezes. Even if you are an experienced hiker. (I told my dad, the search and rescue guy, about this whole thing, and he corroborated that.) DO NOT TRUST YOUR PERCEPTIONS. They are misleading. Bring equipment (I should never have left my GPS at home) and stop to use it rather than getting caught up in "must keep moving"!

and two things that I did do right: stayed out of dangerous terrain rather than just trying to force a way through; asked for directions, as embarrassing as it was.

Geese

2009-12-01T18:54:31Z

It used to be that all those brown geese with the black necks and heads and the white around the neck were Canada Geese.

Then, the small ones were Cackling Geese, and there were some subspecies involved.

Now, I'm totally confused. The small ones have been split, and so I'm not sure if there's such a thing as a Cackling Goose anymore or if there are only the former subspecies which are now species, and I don't know how to tell them apart (other than my pre-split Sibley guide which features several subspecies that look more or less identical), and so I spent part of the Thanksgiving holiday in a field outside Moss Landing, finding out whether or not my binoculars are really waterproof (they are) and shivering while staring at a horde of brown geese and thinking, "What the FUCK is a Ridgeway Goose?" because that's not even one of the former subspecies.

Other than the goose confusion, it was a great weekend bird-wise in the Santa Cruz area, with my first Brant, Snow Goose and Ross's Geese (all of these are relatively easy to tell apart), as well as a gorgeous Red-Throated Loon. Wilder Ranch, the next day, was shorter on raptors than usual and the shrike was AWOL, but a female Northern Harrier foraged only a few feet away from me, and I was able to move a banana slug out of the trail to save him/her from the rampaging hordes of mountain bikers who would squish him/her unknowingly.

Thanksgiving was good, too. Great food. Gummitch's lust for turkey was actually kind of a scary thing.

I was planning an Owens Valley trip this weekend, and can't afford it, even camping (there's always gas... and Schat's...), so that kind of sucks. Maybe in January.

Death Valley

2009-11-23T22:20:41Z

All along, on expeditions through the desert, I think I was looking for a place with mountains like this.

It's surreally beautiful. Cliffs with glacial boulders that have been squashed and stretched. Sand dunes in perfect waveforms, the sand so fine you can pet it like a cat. High mountains, red and black and orange and pink and brown. A view of the Sierras, with snow. People cluster into a few places, because most of the roads are difficult (note to self: rent a high-clearance vehicle), and leave the rest alone. The light at dawn was otherworldly.

I was there for a UCR Extension geology class, which was interesting and informative, although I'm just as glad there's a break in December because I need to spend less money...

The concessioner's services, facilities, and general existence sucked -- avoid Xanterra at all costs -- but other than that, it was a great weekend.

One last BC note

2009-11-20T04:16:12Z

I finally watched the ESPN Breeders' Cup coverage (and took pictures with my digital camera in TV mode! Go me!! I now have more pictures of Z, plus one of Goldikova trying to take a chunk out of one of the guys walking her to the gate.)

I was so monomaniacal leading up to the Classic that while I realized Quality Road had been scratched at the gate, I didn't really know what had happened.

Quality Road was blindfolded, which is SOP, but then he broke through the gate with the blindfold on.

One of the starting crew, who is an absolute hero, kept a desperate hold on the colt's reins. Had he not, Quality Road would have bolted down the track blindfolded.

The starter got the horse back behind the gate, where he spun frantically, still blind, until they got the blindfold off, at which point he calmed down, was more or less OK, and apparently passed a preliminary gate session back East earlier this week.

But, my God. That's the scariest moment I've ever seen in racing.

Weekend in Anza-Borrego

2009-11-16T20:31:20Z

(By the way: No, I don't know yet. I will post when I do.)

I'd originally planned to take a UCR Extension class on Palm Oasis Ecology, but it got cancelled at the last minute due to lack of enrollment. With my tent zipper messed up and it being in the middle of winter, I'd decided to make reservations in a fancy resort (that's all they have in Borrego Springs) rather than camping. By the time I learned the class was cancelled, it was too late to get out of the reservations. So I decided to make the best of it...

Part of the drive from the High Desert to Borrego Springs is stressful, following the 15 and then the 215 in heavy traffic as the freeway splits, weaves, contracts, and tries to lose you, but then you turn on 79 South and... sigh of relief. The San Diego backcountry is beautiful chaparral and oak, little towns, horse ranches.

Then you turn off on the road to Anza-Borrego and you drop off the edge of the world. The road curves down through an increasingly desert environment until you find yourself in a hole at the base of arid mountains, and if you didn't know the plateau was up there, you'd think there was nothing but desert for hundreds of miles.

For the second time this fall, I drove to Anza-Borrego through a rainstorm. Odd...

I checked in to my fancy resort (pink stucco; fancy Southwestern-esque tchotchkes (sp??) all over the room) and headed up to Palm Canyon for a short hike, but it got dark, so I went to Jilberto's for a takeout burrito.

The next morning the mountains outside the window reddened around 5:30 AM (Wasn't it pitch dark at 6 AM at Zzyzx five weeks ago, only 100 miles or so north of here? What gives?), and one shortcoming of the resort appeared: their continental breakfast doesn't get served till 7:30. The heck with that, I had hiking to do.

I headed out to Palm Canyon, where I looked at birds (Anna's and Costa's Hummingbirds; NO Yellow-Rumped Warblers) on the way up to the palm oasis. There, in the early morning sun, a Canyon Wren was alternating its cascading song with a series of alarm calls.

I was about ready to leave when the desert bighorns showed up, two pale gray, white-muzzled endangered creatures, one with a radio collar around his neck. They watched me, waiting on a rock, chewing cud. I took pictures, then left so they wouldn't have to wait any longer. On the way back there was a tarantula by the trail, and an increasing stream of hikers: it pays to get on those popular trails early. The bighorn pictures are on my flickr.

I drove out to Plum Canyon and hiked another 10 miles or so through yucca and creosote scrub (Blue-Gray Gnatcatchers, Black-Throated Sparrows). Realized this was the first long hike I'd done since Labor Day. Ouch.

Dinner and a margarita that night at Pablito's. The sky was so clear I could see the Milky Way.

Slept like the dead, awakened by the dreadful screeches of the odd little gray cagebirds the resort keeps (finch-sized, black and white stripes on face, red bill, some have orange cheeks, some have brown and white under the wing, some are leucistic; a couple of House Finches had found their way into the cage, probably knowing a good thing when they saw one), and went to the resort's breakfast. Which was sort of underwhelming, but there was coffee.

Basically, I figured out that with this resort, I was paying for the pretty, which doesn't make all that much sense if you're going to be out birding/hiking all day. The body lotion and stuff was nicer than the standard issue. The desert landscaping had quite a few (wild) birds in it. But I felt a bit like a dirtbag birder surrounded by chi-chi Beverly Hills people (because that's pretty much how it was), and being there by myself, I wasn't about to explore the "clothing optional" pool and hot tubs. One thing, though: if you're writing, being alone in a hotel is the way to go. I made a lot of progress on a story, and I'll probably finish it in Death Valley next weekend.

I checked out and drove up to the Barrel Springs PCT trailhead, on the plateau. This is confusing, because there are No Trespassing signs in the area, but the trail is open, and I followed it for another 10-mile-ish hike through woods and then endless chaparral with an endless mountain view. Things hurt a little less the second day. There were lots of birds, Scrub Jays and Spotted Towhees and other old friends.

I stopped in Temecula for gas and caffeine and came home. It was a nice little break. And now I'm back.

More Z

2009-11-12T20:16:12Z

Her 112 winning Beyer: THE HIGHEST IN HISTORY for a synthetic track route. Here are the stats, stolen from Dan Illman:

1. Zenyatta - 112 - Breeders' Cup Classic
2. Rail Trip - 111 - Hollywood Gold Cup
3. Gio Ponti - 110 - Breeders' Cup Classic
4. Twice Over - 108 - Breeders' Cup Classic
T5. Richard's Kid - 107 - Pacific Classic
T5. Einstein - 107 - Pacific Classic
T5. Life Is Sweet - 107 - Breeders' Cup Ladies' Classic
T5. Summer Bird - 107 - Breeders' Cup Classic
T5. Ball Four- 107 - Mervyn LeRoy Handicap
T5. The Pamplemousse - 107 - Sham Stakes

Her time for the final quarter: :23

Feet of that final quarter that were spent running SIDEWAYS: don't have a number, but it was a lot.

Every time I watch the replay, and see the trouble she encountered, and the way this massive horse turned on a dime like a Porsche swerving through LA commute traffic to win going away with her ears pricked... I can't believe it all over again.

Also, I posted pictures -- crowds kept me from taking some, some of them suck, and they are out of order so I need to fix them, but here they are:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/24905376@N04/sets/72157622665423573/

True Story

2009-11-08T18:43:18Z

"She blew the start."

"No, she didn't. She always does that."

"Ahh, she got left at the gate."

::crowd screaming::

"Come on, Zenny. Mike, don't have her so far back. OK, now she's moving. She's going. She's moving up. OH MY GOD, MIKE, GET OFF THE FUCKING RAIL!!!! She's going through! She just bulled her way through there! ::beating hands on rail so they are sore the next day:: GO! GO NOW!! OH MY GOD, SHE'S GOING TO WIN!! SHE'S GOING TO WIN!!! WEEEEEEHAAAAAA!!! SHE WON! SHE WON!!!"

::crowd goes crazy::

"...She's the best horse in the world."

Queen Z

2009-11-06T01:48:57Z

As usual, there's a lot of babble going back and forth on the net about whether Zenyatta is good enough to win the Breeders' Cup Classic on Saturday. After all, her Beyer Speed Figures aren't that high, and, well, outside that most of the arguments come down to "she can't win because she's a girl."

I'm not worried about her speed figures. Firstly, the race shape in all of her races this year has been the slow-paced kind that does not produce fast final times or high Beyers. They have been slow-paced and she has been running against the flow, so to speak, to win them. I bet if I had the times for the final 1/8th of each of her races, those times would look pretty damn quick. Then there's my suspicion that Beyers are more subjective than advertised, and that synthetic-surface Beyers remain unduly low.

And secondly, I do think she can run faster, because she has won each of her races with ridiculous ease. She's been eased up at the wire in all but one, her win at Del Mar this summer, in which Mike Smith admitted he was overconfident and gave her too much to do (and she still won). It's not a question of whether she can actually "improve"; it's a question of how good IS she? We just don't know how much more she actually has to give. Her demeanor suggests that there could be a lot more.

I'm also not worried about her class level. She is a multiple Grade 1 winner. Yes, she's been beating fillies. So what? She's beaten them 13 times in a row. And I'm not worried about stretching out to 1 1/4th. She's won at 1 1/8th over and over with seemingly a lot left in the tank.

That all doesn't mean that I think she's a lock on Saturday. Zenyatta has the kind of running style where she has to work out a trip, and in this large field, that's not going to be easy. I can definitely see a scenario where she gets blocked, gets going too late, and can't get up in time. That's the danger with any deep closer. She is up against tremendous competition here, in a race that no mare has ever won, and a trifecta finish, let alone a win, would be a tremendous accomplishment.

Last Sunday, I watched Summer Bird work over the track between races. He looked beautiful, his coppery coat gleaming in the sun. The first time he cantered by me, I called out to him, "You're gonna have to run faster than that if you want to beat Zenyatta".

He rolled his eye nervously at me -- I swear! -- and pinned an ear.

Make of that what you will.

Early BC Saturday Picks

2009-11-05T20:39:24Z

Damascus Stakes: Viscount, M One Rifle

BC Juvenile Turf:
Pounced, Interactif, Viscount Nelson

BC Turf Sprint:
California Flag, Noble Court
Wacky Longshot: Gotta Have Her

BC Sprint:
Zensational, Gayego
Wacky Longshot: Fleeting Spirit

BC Juvenile:
Lookin at Lucky, D'Funnybone
Wacky Longshots: Eskendereya, Aikenite

BC Mile:
Goldikova, Delegator
Wacky Longshots: What'sthescript, Cowboy Cal

BC Main Track Mile:
Mastercraftsman, Midshipman
Wacky Longshot: Pyro

BC Turf:
Conduit, Spanish Moon, Presious Passion
Wacky Longshot: Telling

BC Classic
Zenyatta
Summer Bird, Gio Ponti

Oak Tree Derby:
Augustusthestrong, Oil Man

Early BC Friday Picks

2009-11-04T19:20:15Z

I won't be betting on all of these since I don't have the cash, but here are the picks:

BC Marathon:
Top picks: Cloudy's Knight, Mastery
Wacky longshot: Gangbuster

BC Juvenile Fillies Turf
Top pick: Lillie Langtry
Wacky longshots: Potosina, La Nez, Lisa's Kitten

BC Juvenile Fillies
Top picks: She Be Wild, Negligee
Wacky longshots: My babies Devil May Care, Always a Princess and Bickersons -- the first who could be something really special, the second who has done nothing wrong even though I think she wants turf eventually, and the third who I think is coming into the race the right way.

BC Filly and Mare Turf
Top picks: Forever Together, Midday, Magical Fantasy
Wacky longshots: Dynaforce is lone speed. Remember Intercontinental?

BC Filly and Mare Sprint
Top picks: Informed Decision, Ventura
Wacky longshot: Seventh Street

BC Distaff
Top picks: Careless Jewel, Music Note
Wacky longshot: None, but I think Lethal Heat could hit the board

Las Palmas
Just some quick picks on this one... Internallyflawless top choice, then Tizaqueena, Closeout I think may improve getting firm turf, Teamgeist, Tuscan Evening

Feh!

2009-11-04T00:04:22Z

Really dysfunctional crap going on at work.

Odd stuff going on with people (or person, at least) that I don't have enough information to decipher and can only say... BVD [better view desired], dude...

I look horrible.

I will never have money ever again (this is my fault for concurrently doing two UCR certificates, but still).

Feh.

adaptation

2009-10-22T23:39:22Z

I just went back to my old blogspot account to delete something (because I was bored, and googled my name, and came up with my old kyrifreeman@blogspot.com, and wanted to not have something I had written there available to all and sundry), and read a couple of my posts from when I first moved here.

January 2006. I am astonished by the winter Mojave cold. I have never seen a Horned Lark or a Rock Wren! (Actually, the list of things I've never seen at that point is long, but that's the bit that struck me in the blog entry). I think (I didn't write this, but I remember it) all the houses look bizarre because there are no trees around them.

I seem to have still been homesick for about another year, and then in the spring of 2007, I was getting ready for a trip north and realized I didn't really want to leave. The desert had me.

November, 2009. I have fun when I visit Santa Cruz. I get to see all my old home birds. I get frustrated hiking, even driving, because I can't see anything for all the trees.

But I don't want to move back there at all, ever. I'll probably leave Barstow/the Victor Valley at some point, but only to move to some slightly more civilized desert outpost. This is my home range, from the Sierras in the northwest to the Salton Sea in the south and the Colorado River in the east.

Meme

2009-10-21T18:31:16Z

The problem with LJ: we all think we are so close, but really, we know nothing about each other. So I want you to ask me something you think you should know about me. Something that should be obvious, but you have no idea about. Ask away.

Then post this in your LJ and find out what people don't know about you.

Birds, and questions

2009-10-19T22:02:50Z

(UPDATE: OK, my day just got a WHOLE LOT BETTER right after I posted this and checked my mail. Squeeee!!)

(Not counting my 'how to deal with dysfunctional person at work' question that I just posted on Facebook... I guess I'm just needy of the neediness today...)

So if you're in a car with people, and you are going to be spending all day with them, and you would obviously like to get along and have a good time, and one of the people says (NO I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP!) that Orange County seems to be a nice place to live even though there are all those Asian people living there!!!

I just wussed out. I didn't say anything. The other person in the car said something weakly about their being good students and hard workers.

I could have said, "That was racist and it offended me". Or, "I lived in the Bay Area surrounded by people of varied Asian and Indian descent for several years, and while any time you're around people with very different cultures and often a language barrier there can be challenges, I would have no objection whatsoever to living in a similar population again."

Or, "Really? I thought the problem with Orange County was all the fucking Republicans!"

But I just stared out the car window.

So what would you have done?

OK, so part 2: Am I evil and a bad birder because I don't want to go see the Sedge Wren?

There is a Sedge Wren at Glen Helen. It might or might not still be there tomorrow. I might or might not see/be able to identify it if I drove down and looked. It's a very rare bird in this area, but it's not really a most wanted bird for me, and I just feel like... I will go where Sedge Wrens live and see one there.

I think a big part of my reluctance is really a reaction against this mentality among some birders that birds only matter if they're rare, and if you can check them off on a list. (OK, and part of my reluctance is that I'm not even sure I would see/ID the thing and it might be embarrassing, but that's the smaller part.) We saw a lot of great birds the last time I went (Prairie Falcon! Red-Naped Sapsucker! Slate-Colored Junco! and a bobcat! and a coyote!) but people were disappointed and thought it was a bad day because there weren't any vagrants.

Vagrants are birds that are lost. They're probably going to die before they breed. I can easily imagine that they are scared, lonely, and miserable. (The Sedge Wren is a vagrant.) So while I love seeing something new... I just can't find the capacity to be disappointed because all the young birds migrating for the first time are getting where they're supposed to go, and are not lost, and are with their flock.

And I know it's an exaggeration to see some of the people I encounter as just wanting to check off names on a list, not knowing or caring anything about the lives of the creatures they see, but that's what it feels like sometimes.

I wonder if there are any other birders out there who feel like I do about this.

Zzyzx

2009-10-12T21:06:03Z

Half an hour after I arrived in Zzyzx, this guy walked by me in the dusk, about three feet away:

http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://s190.photobucket.com/albums/z257/americanwildlife/Mammal/Z-PattiMcNeal-grayfox.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.wildlifenorthamerica.com/Mammal/Common-Gray-Fox/Urocyon/cinereoargenteus.html&usg=__jfvDNNP7YuATVQTRkxdLe3GIAZ4=&h=473&w=800&sz=95&hl=en&start=6&tbnid=xCQbCGmipBYTmM:&tbnh=85&tbnw=143&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dgray%2Bfox%26gbv%3D2%26hl%3Den

Beautiful thing, and completely unafraid of me. Beautiful place, with the afterglow falling clear pink over the playa and the mountains.

I was there for a class on the birds of the Mojave Preserve. At the moment, as far as I can tell, 99.9% of the birds there are Yellow-Rumped Warblers... no odd vagrants even at the usually failsafe Vagrant Bush behind the date palms... though there was a Tree Sparrow behind Pike's (used to be Denny's) in Baker.

We did get great looks at some more or less usual birds, like Barn Owl, Northern Harrier, Prairie Falcon, Lesser Goldfinch, Gambel's Quail, and, of course, Yellow-Rumped Warbler.

I am slowly getting better at identification, even of Lincoln's Sparrows. These classes teach me a lot. Trouble is, if this is trouble, there's no enough... I just did two of these trips in a row and I could go again next weekend without a moment's hesitation.

I also like the people.

Loggerhead Shrike

2009-10-05T19:26:49Z

In Palm Canyon at Anza-Borrego.

Hears the sound of a Canyon Wren singing! Yum, lunch! (I didn't know a shrike would take on a Canyon Wren, which is almost its size, but shrikes are kind of the weasels of the raptor world, apparently, in terms of fierce.)

Looks around with its beady little eyes in their black bandit mask. Sees class of birders and very tall, blond class instructor who is whistling like a yummy wren but who is all too clearly just a little out of the shrike's league.

Shrike, angrily: "Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!"

I feel like that when my lunch hopes are snatched away too.

New pictures -- Some have people in them!

2009-09-28T02:13:19Z

http://www.flickr.com/photos/24905376@N04/sets/72157622344761641/

yes, there are people and not just mountains this time.

The kittens are alive!

2009-09-27T02:38:58Z

The dark and light kittens that I spent fruitless hours trying to catch a couple of weeks ago are alive! I just saw them both and they look fine! I can't believe it! I was sure that they were dead.

They are no more interested in being rescued by me than they ever were, and I've given up trying. It looks like they have a chance of making it on their own.

All I could say just now was "... you wee bastards," as they dashed away into the shrubbery.

I know stray cats are a bad thing, and don't live long, and they are terrible for birds and other wildlife, but there are really no birds for these guys to eat except House Finches and House Sparrows, so not really such an issue.

Weekend: Boats, bagpipes

2009-09-23T19:22:59Z

On Saturday, I went on a pelagic birding trip out of Dana Point.

It was... interesting. Long, long stretches of water with no birds whatsoever. When birds did appear, they were almost all distant and hard to see, and had to be identified by flight pattern and macro-field marks. I wondered why the chum being used was just buttered popcorn -- not exactly birds' natural food, and wouldn't the traditional stinky fish chunks have brought in a greater variety of species?

I started to get seasick at one point, but ate something and had a peppermint, which helped a lot. From then on, I had a peppermint every time I felt queasy, and by the end of the 6-hour trip I felt fine.

Despite being disappointed at the number, variety, and accessibility of the birds, I did see some new species: Black-Vented and Pink-Footed Shearwaters, Parasitic and Pomarine Jaegers (but especially disappointing to not get good looks at these since they were on my most wanted list), Northern Fulmar (great look at this bird; unfortunately he was so lethargic that he may have been sick).

More exciting were the marine mammals: sea lions and an elephant seal, but more importantly, a Fin Whale, and bottlenosed dolphins that surfed the bow wave while I was standing on the -- it technically can't be called a bowsprit on a motor boat, I guess, but there's a thing on the bow that sticks out and is floored with a grating so you can look down -- there was a calf, and the dolphins would look up at us as they surfed past. Very much like meeting glances with a dog: there's definitely a personality there with its own opinions. After that, we found a 400-plus strong pod of common dolphins that were arcing out of the water, tail-walking, splashing back down. The dolphins were by far the stars of the day.

I plan to go on another pelagic trip, but I hope the birding is a little better. It was a fun day out, though.

Sunday, I went to the Celtic Arts Center's yearly concert at the Ford Amphitheatre.

I originally bought these tickets thinking Slugger O'Toole was headlining, but later found out they weren't, which was a bummer, but I had hopes for the band who was.

Hmm. Well, some thoughts on the bands in general:

Could people please quit with the "Ye Jacobites by Name"? It's a horrible song. It urges people to give up what they believe in and "adore the rising sun", i.e. turn coat and bow to whoever's strongest. To the extent that its message can be translated for the modern day, it's a bad one.

What is up with this weird male singing style where there's a ton of vibrato, a kind of phlegmy choked-sounding quality, and various sighs and kind of oowee-oweee stuff? Is it influenced by lounge music or something? One guy destroyed "Wild Mountain Thyme" and the other assaulted "Carrickfergus". Two of my favorite songs. Ugh.

I didn't like the headline band, whom I shall leave nameless. Most of what they did was kind of New Age-influenced instrumental, and it was OK, it was pretty, but it would work really well for background music in a documentary. Listening to it live was boring. And then one of the lounge singers would come on stage, to loud cheers, and phlegm something up. I have to say that I was the exception, because most of the crowd adored this set.

OK, so, Slugger O'Toole, the reason I was there in the first place. They have a whole new set! Mostly more Clancy Brothers songs -- I love to hear these and Slugger are the only ones I've heard perform most of them live -- also "Wayfaring Stranger", which might seem incongruous but sounded really good, and "Follow Me Up to Carlow", which I haven't heard since Gaelic Storm used to do it at O'Brien's on Sunday nights back in the dark ages. Slugger is better than Gaelic Storm was at a similar stage. Having said that, I thought some of the new stuff was a little rough musically speaking, not quite as clean as what they do at their best, but it'll get there with time. I live in hopes of a second CD.

Birthday

2009-09-14T21:56:56Z

I am 40, single, and not as skinny as I wish I were.

On the other hand, I get to have sushi tonight.

Rock Creek trip over Labor Day weekend

2009-09-09T23:07:00Z

I've never gone car camping with friends before -- I usually just head out on my own -- so it was neat to go with John and Christie this weekend. They are great company, but have ways that are strange to me, like bringing, and cooking, actual food. I could get used to that!

Anyway, I wanted Friday off, but my boss would neither confirm nor deny my request, so I had to assume it was denied. Luckily (another nice thing about going with friends) John and Christie were able to drive up that morning and get a campsite at Iris Meadows.

I arrived mid-morning on Saturday, found the campsite, which was nice and secluded in an aspen grove, and headed out for a short hike from Rock Creek Lake... Not. it was actually so crowded that there was no trailhead parking. So I found a different trailhead and went for a ways. It was Land of the ~~Tourons~~ ~~Gumbies~~ people who don't hike very often, in oddly non-outdoors clothing and carrying odd things like parasols, and I came across at least one couple who were really tired and were just in the act of drinking their last water (though they were less than a mile from the trailhead at the time, so I'm sure they got out OK).

The next, day, though, I got up early (40 degrees!) and hiked up Mono Pass. This is one of the best medium length day hikes I've ever done. You start out in a classically beautiful Sierras valley, and the trail gradually switchbacks up the side, until it makes a right turn into a canyon filled with nothing but rock and sand. The pass itself is easy (from Rock Creek; from Fourth Recess, the other direction, the approach would suck) and made entirely of sand, rock, and snow with a pretty little summit lake. I thought about stopping at the lake, but decided I'd look to see what was around the corner, and there were mountains so beautiful on the horizon that I literally caught my breath. Red and white and swirly designs and snowfields! I'll post the pictures in the next few days.

I didn't want to drop into the low-altitude hole that is Fourth Recess and have to hike all the way back up, although for a multi-day trip there were definitely some lakes visible from the pass that I'd want to check out, so I turned around. And the ~~tourons~~ ~~gumbies~~ people had arrived. One woman, looking exhausted, with her exhausted kids, asked me if there was anything worth seeing beyond "that little lake" (am I being snotty to think people crossing a 12,000 foot High Sierras pass should have a bloody map and know the name of the lake? especially since Summit Lake isn't exactly hard to remember? probably) Yes, I said, there was something really beautiful to see, and I recommended going just around the corner and looking. Don't know if they did.

There were actual hikers too, including quite a few people with dogs carrying dog packs, one of which was a Samoyed that was possibly the cutest thing I have ever seen. He let me pet his ears and they were soft as angora. I think I just found my future puppy breed.

I always have this dilemma in the wilderness, because I want people to enjoy it and want to protect it, but I don't like when it's too crowded -- it's high-impact, and takes away from the experience. This was too crowded. On the way down (jogging down the switchbacks blasting Flogging Molly on my ipod) I couldn't move freely and felt like I was at Disneyland. Besides which, the wilderness deserves respect from people in the area of preparedness -- you wear the right stuff and carry the right gear because even on a beautiful September day only four miles from the trailhead, stuff can happen.

Or maybe I'm just crowd-intolerant, like a wolverine.

Anyway, it's a great hike, though not so much on Labor Day weekend, and there are what look like more great hikes in the area.

Monday, we walked to Dorothy Lake (no fish; many tadpoles) and went to Bishop (Jack's, the mahogany smoked meat place, Schat's), and then went home.

Last night I watched all my DVR'ed racing coverage from Saturday (haven't watched Sunday yet). Rachel was fantastic! winning the Woodward. She got pressure early and late and showed speed and courage. (But had Zenyatta been where Macho Again was in the stretch... Zenyatta would still be perfect.)

Two young'uns from Saturday who I think have bright futures: Always a Princess, a chestnut half to Gabby's Golden Gal by Leroidesanimaux who broke her maiden at Del Mar, and Stately Victor, a Ghostzapper who did likewise on turf at Saratoga.

Good, Bad, Crazy

2009-09-04T23:18:30Z

Bad first:

There were two kittens hiding out around the chain-link fence surrounded by big, thick, spiky shrubs behind my apartment building. I heard them crying and tried to catch them, but couldn't. I even rented out a catch and release trap and set it out night before last (the last time I actually saw them was Wednesday morning), but no luck. I think that they are gone ... whether to a good outcome or a bad one, I hopefully will never know.

If they had only come to me, I could have saved them, but trying to catch them just got me scratched bloody by the fucking bushes, and Animal Control told me they don't try to catch stray cats because they, er, can't. So their lives were probably short, and they were damn cute, too. They just were feral, probably, and really didn't want anything to do with me. I'm still leaving water out, but I don't think there's any hope at this point.

I hate people who abandon their animals or let them roam and let feral kittens be born only to die.

Also sort of bad: I seem to have injured something in my foot, right on the eve of a hiking trip.

Good:

I get to go back to the mountains tomorrow, my friends who went up today found a campsite for us to share, we kept our personnel funding so that I could offer a permanent job to someone, and it's a 3-day weekend. Also: Schat's cheese bread and breakfast at Jack's on Sunday!

Crazy:

I just enrolled in the Desert Ecology Certificate program at UC Riverside Extension.

Also: I will miss watching the Woodward and the rest of this weekend's races live. I think Rachel can win, and I also think 3 or 4 of the field can beat her, particularly Bullsbay and Macho Again. I just hope that if she doesn't win, people don't start whining about her having run in the race. But they will, of course. Also, I hope everyone comes through the weekend safe and sound.

Meysan Lake

2009-08-24T21:53:48Z

One of those things where I'm only just partially at the "having the wisdom to accept" stage is the fact I'm not particularly athletic. I don't have to sit on the couch eating ice cream for a month for things to go downhill. I just have to do maybe one set on the elliptical machine rather than 3, and hike 5 miles on the weekend rather than 10, and not actually be faint from hunger at some point every day, and the downward spiral begins.

Suffice to say, what with everything, my stated goal of being in the best shape of my life by my 40th birthday (9/14), is not going to happen. I think I'll have to aim for the end of September, if that.

I was smart enough to back out of my coworkers' Whitney trip on the 22nd-23rd. Instead, I decided I'd go up to Whitney Portal and be in the general vicinity, but car camp and do a day hike. I was dumb enough to look at the Meysan Lake hike and think that since it was only about 10 miles round trip, even though there was a bit of a climb, it would be easy.

::pause for maniacal laughter::

Not so much. The trail climbs continuously for about 3,000 feet. Most of the switchbacks are well graded, but some are short curves through jumbled terrain, and some are long, will-to-live-sapping arcs up deep sand slopes (those are totally fun to run down, though), and in classic Sierras style, you keep thinking you're there and the lakes will appear spread out before you, only to find that there's a lot more climbing to do. At the end, there's a steep side trail through talus to actually get to Meysan Lake itself.

The hike is beautiful -- walls of sculpted rock on both sides -- but don't be fooled into thinking it's easy. I was pretty hurting when I got down, especially because I tweeked something in my hip that I have a tendency to tweek. It's whatever it is that pulls your leg up when you step upward. Someone told me it's a hip flexor, so I'll go with that. Anyway, I have a tendency to get this injury, and this time it isn't particularly bad, just enough to make walking uphill painful.

It was cold, and it rained. Mostly this was pleasant, especially in the Lone Pine campground with the rain pattering on the cottonwood leaves. My fingers went numb at Meysan Lake, though, which encouraged me to cut my lunch stop short.

So, meanwhile, some of my coworkers were trying to do Whitney in a day (they didn't succeed), and some were going via Trail Camp. They summited, but said it was freezing, raining, and generally miserable. This would be the second time I've seriously considered hiking Whitney from the east and the second time the weather has been uncooperative. I'm starting to think I'm not meant to take that route. From the west is better anyway.

The next day, I drove up Horseshoe Meadows Road, Scariest Road Ever due to the rockfalls (up to toaster-sized) covering it, and did a short hike in the bright, windy, rainwashed weather before the storm settled in again. There were electric blue Mountain Bluebirds, and three marmots in the meadow, my first marmots of the year.

I'm not sure if my struggles and exhaustion were completely due to missing training time this summer, or if the fact I've been exhausted in general, having trouble getting out of bed in the morning, not sleeping well, generally trying to relocate my will to live, had more to do with it. There are a lot of stressful things going on at my workplace.

I plan to be back in the mountains weekend after next.