You don't need to, but we did on our way to church today. This can be a birding post. On our way to church today we saw one bird:
Mallard (female)
We were driving down a steep hill (for those familiar, it's the corner of Bastanchury and Associated, coming down from the intersection with State College). We were almost to the intersection, and slowing down to stop, thankfully, when we notice a female mallard swinging out in flight over the road from the left. Not too interesting, so the first impulse is to disregard it as one of those many events that your consciousness assigns to "not important" while you're driving so you can focus on the road. I still can't remember that part very well. I can't remember, for example, if the bird was taking off just off the left side of the road, or if it came down and over the road from Craig Park.
Anyway, the bird soon impressed itself on my mind (and Libby's!) as VERY important, as it straightened its course directly at our car. It was low, and in the ensuing second it became very clear it was going to hit or nearly miss our car. I slowed further, Libby yelled, and...
BAM
... the duck slammed into the top of our windshield.
Oh my gosh. That was a very loud thump. "We just killed a duck," I thought with alarm. My eyes had gone directly to the point of impact, above the rear view mirror. It was wet. Just water, but for a second I was really worried. Libby turned around, and I turned around as we came to a stop at the red light. The duck was walking into the middle of our lane behind us. It was alive, but for how long?
The light turned green and we headed off, throwing glances behind us. No point in getting out to do anything, as we'd be endangering ourselves and others. You'll all be glad to know that there was no damage to our car, and on the way home, we couldn't see the duck anywhere along the road. It might have been in the gutter on the far side, of course, but we prefer to think we may just have hit Super Duck. At least, we know we hit Stupid Duck.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Cold and Sunburn
It's ironic that something as cold as snow is so good at causing sunburn. This weekend, I went backpacking with my Dad. It was really exciting since I haven't been in the back country since 2003. This short trip was similarly short, only two nights (we'd planned on 3), and, well, it snowed. Oh, and I got really sunburned.
Fortunately we knew it might snow, and were prepared for bad weather. Dad and I had been watching the weather forecasts for days, watching a cold front develop and move slowly south through California. Multiple trips to REI and raiding the winter ski supplies brought us mostly up to snuff. All in all, we were prepared for an adventure.
We drove up Saturday to Bishop and picked up our permit and bear can before continuing to the cabin in Mammoth. We stayed one night there to acclimate and stay warm. We were encouraged that it was mostly dry in Mammoth. There had been barely any snow, and Saturday dawned mostly clear and slightly damp. It hadn't snowed over night at all.
So we hopped into our car and drove to the trail head (picking up a good friend of Dad's on the way), where we found it was quite cloudy and snowy. Apparently Mammoth had been skipped for higher climes further south. We started hiking at South Lake, and went trudging off into a winter wonderland. Despite the fact that the Aspens had barely begun turning in the Bishop Creek drainage, it looked and felt exactly like winter. Snow crunched underfoot and drifted gently in front of us in a sparse white veil. At low elevations, the snow was only accumulating slowly. It wasn't melting at all, but it was snowing so slowly that there was only a couple of inches on and around the trail.
After lunch, however, we started encountering occasional gusts of wind and the snow was intensifying. We started sinking deeper into the tracks as the trail left the constant cover of trees. We encountered a group of hikers who'd come over Bishop Pass earlier. They said the snow lay thick on the switchbacks, and that they were glad to be getting out of the back country. It had snowed on them the last two nights in a row, and the knapsack pass they'd come through before Bishop Pass was hazardous because the boulders were all covered in snow. Soon after talking to them, we began postholing our way up through deeper and deeper snow while the dark clouds showed no sign of clearing. This despite the original forecast being that the storm was to clear Saturday afternoon.
I started to think this might not be so bright, and Dad was thinking the same thing, besides starting to feel the effects of thinning air and having to lift our feet higher and higher all the time. We stopped at Bishop Lake to see if we'd have a chance to make the pass today. After a moment of rest, it started to snow in earnest, big flakes falling quickly and densely. This was becoming a real winter storm, and we elected to set up camp immediately. We did so, and Joe headed back down the mountain to warmth.
We ended up staying there for both nights, and leaving one night early. The second day was partly cloudy, but warm, and some of the thinner areas melted. We day-hiked the pass, which was fun. Without packs, with warm boots and gaiters, the hike wasn't so bad. We were the first over it that day, and about 20 people followed after us in our tracks. That left pools of thawed water along the route, which I imagine froze over night to make an interesting path for people coming up the next day.
Both nights were cold. I shivered on and off both nights, and didn't get much sleep all together. My insulite pad was just not warm enough. The second night, we used clothes to keep me warmer underneath my bag, and that was somewhat successful. I was able to get warm more often, and was overall more comfortable. Dad slept very well the second night.
The second morning we woke to find Bishop Lake frozen. The entire lake was covered with a layer of ice that was up to 5/8" thick. It was a nice day, though. We ended up packing up and hiking home at my urging more than Dad's. I was terribly sunburned from the hike over the pass, and we were just so close to the trail head that I just didn't want to spend another day in the sun and a night in the cold. Besides, I was missing Libby! Our hike down was great. We took a detour to Ruwau Lake via a cross country route that gave us some fun route-finding in the snowy hills. The lower areas were in the process of thawing, and the smells of trees, dust and sage occasionally met our noses. The trail was the wettest I've ever seen a Sierra trail. It was really muddy and slushy as the snow melted away. We only encountered dry dust within a mile or so from the trail-head, as we began wandering down through Aspens and the rocky slopes above South Lake. We reached the car, hopped in, and drove straight home. And that was the end of our backpack trip.
Here's to hoping for next year.
Fortunately we knew it might snow, and were prepared for bad weather. Dad and I had been watching the weather forecasts for days, watching a cold front develop and move slowly south through California. Multiple trips to REI and raiding the winter ski supplies brought us mostly up to snuff. All in all, we were prepared for an adventure.
We drove up Saturday to Bishop and picked up our permit and bear can before continuing to the cabin in Mammoth. We stayed one night there to acclimate and stay warm. We were encouraged that it was mostly dry in Mammoth. There had been barely any snow, and Saturday dawned mostly clear and slightly damp. It hadn't snowed over night at all.
So we hopped into our car and drove to the trail head (picking up a good friend of Dad's on the way), where we found it was quite cloudy and snowy. Apparently Mammoth had been skipped for higher climes further south. We started hiking at South Lake, and went trudging off into a winter wonderland. Despite the fact that the Aspens had barely begun turning in the Bishop Creek drainage, it looked and felt exactly like winter. Snow crunched underfoot and drifted gently in front of us in a sparse white veil. At low elevations, the snow was only accumulating slowly. It wasn't melting at all, but it was snowing so slowly that there was only a couple of inches on and around the trail.
After lunch, however, we started encountering occasional gusts of wind and the snow was intensifying. We started sinking deeper into the tracks as the trail left the constant cover of trees. We encountered a group of hikers who'd come over Bishop Pass earlier. They said the snow lay thick on the switchbacks, and that they were glad to be getting out of the back country. It had snowed on them the last two nights in a row, and the knapsack pass they'd come through before Bishop Pass was hazardous because the boulders were all covered in snow. Soon after talking to them, we began postholing our way up through deeper and deeper snow while the dark clouds showed no sign of clearing. This despite the original forecast being that the storm was to clear Saturday afternoon.
I started to think this might not be so bright, and Dad was thinking the same thing, besides starting to feel the effects of thinning air and having to lift our feet higher and higher all the time. We stopped at Bishop Lake to see if we'd have a chance to make the pass today. After a moment of rest, it started to snow in earnest, big flakes falling quickly and densely. This was becoming a real winter storm, and we elected to set up camp immediately. We did so, and Joe headed back down the mountain to warmth.
We ended up staying there for both nights, and leaving one night early. The second day was partly cloudy, but warm, and some of the thinner areas melted. We day-hiked the pass, which was fun. Without packs, with warm boots and gaiters, the hike wasn't so bad. We were the first over it that day, and about 20 people followed after us in our tracks. That left pools of thawed water along the route, which I imagine froze over night to make an interesting path for people coming up the next day.
Both nights were cold. I shivered on and off both nights, and didn't get much sleep all together. My insulite pad was just not warm enough. The second night, we used clothes to keep me warmer underneath my bag, and that was somewhat successful. I was able to get warm more often, and was overall more comfortable. Dad slept very well the second night.
The second morning we woke to find Bishop Lake frozen. The entire lake was covered with a layer of ice that was up to 5/8" thick. It was a nice day, though. We ended up packing up and hiking home at my urging more than Dad's. I was terribly sunburned from the hike over the pass, and we were just so close to the trail head that I just didn't want to spend another day in the sun and a night in the cold. Besides, I was missing Libby! Our hike down was great. We took a detour to Ruwau Lake via a cross country route that gave us some fun route-finding in the snowy hills. The lower areas were in the process of thawing, and the smells of trees, dust and sage occasionally met our noses. The trail was the wettest I've ever seen a Sierra trail. It was really muddy and slushy as the snow melted away. We only encountered dry dust within a mile or so from the trail-head, as we began wandering down through Aspens and the rocky slopes above South Lake. We reached the car, hopped in, and drove straight home. And that was the end of our backpack trip.
Here's to hoping for next year.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Birding Ups and Downs
This weekend is a big one for birds in the L.A. area. There was an Arctic Warbler in Long Beach, and a Yellow Wagtail in Malibu.
Friday we visited De Forest Park in Long Beach for the Warbler. We spent about two hours scouring the park for it, but we came up empty. It is not the most beautiful park, that's for sure. It's full of homeless camps and litter. Thankfully, there was a group of four birders from Orange County that showed up soon after us. We appreciated the company and the safety that numbers brought as the sun set. Unfortunately, the extra eyes weren't enough to find the bird.
We did see:
Warbling Vireo (olive back, eyebrow!, but no wing-bar: this was the closest we got to something like the Arctic Warbler)
Black Phoebes (lots)
Wilson's Warbler (5 or so)
Black-throated Gray Warbler (2)
House Wren (1)
Common Yellowthroat (4)
Vaux's Swift (50)
White-throated Swift (5-10)
Barn Swallow (2)
California Towhee (1)
Bushtit (10)
Cooper's Hawk (3)
Allen's Hummingbird (10)
House Finch
The Vaux's Swifts were probably the highlight of the evening for me. There were tons of them swirling all over the place in a giant flock above us. Occasionally they'd dart in low among the tree tops after some insect or another. Since we only get Vaux's Swifts as migrants, it's always a treat to see them.
Malibu was a little more fruitful, if exhausting. We set our alarm for 5:00 in the morning. When I woke up this morning, I turned over and looked at the clock. It said 4:35. I groaned inside. That's not enough time to get any more rest! I just lay in bed until the alarm went off, and then took a shower. After my shower, I came out to prepare breakfast to find that, somehow, our clock had been set an hour ahead. It was actually 4:30 by then. It had been 3:30 when I awoke.
We got out the door by 5:30 to drive out to Malibu. This works well, I highly recommend it. There wasn't any traffic anywhere on the roads at that time, which was nice. Unfortunately, it was still quite dark and very cold when we arrived at the Malibu Lagoon. We parked far away and walked, since we didn't know where anything was, which had the benefit of warming us up.
The Yellow Wagtail proved much easier to see than the Arctic Warbler. Right after I set up the scope on the bridge over the Lagoon, I saw it. It was too dark, however, to actually see anything much about it. It didn't stick around, either. It flew off quite quickly. We shivered and waited for awhile, but finally decided to head off some sand bars on the other end of the lagoon. It was a pretty walk, and as we arrived, two birders picked up the bird again in their scopes. I set up ours, but we were way too far away for our little telescope. The bird was there, and we could see it, but it just looked like a little dot. After awhile, we asked to look through the other birders' bigger scopes. They were courteous, but the bird was gone by the time I had asked. Bummer.
Anyway, there was no point waiting there anymore with our scope, so we headed off to a third location, more central to the marsh. We waited there for over an hour before the bird showed up again, but it did. We looked through our scope, and through another kind birders scope, before packing up and leaving. It had disappeared again by the time we packed up to go.
Anyway, birds we saw there:
Great Blue Heron
Great Egret
Snowy Egret
Green Heron
Black-crowned Night Heron (getting there before the sun revealed tons of these)
Brown Pelican
Double-crested Cormorant
Mallard
Northern Shoveler
Blue-winged Teal
American Coot
Spotted Sandpiper
Least Sandpiper
Willet
Semipalmated Plover
Ruddy Turnstone
Kildeer
Sanderling
Black Phoebe
Say's Phoebe
Vaux's Swifts (another big flock)
Red-winged Blackbirds
Great-tailed Grackle
Song Sparrow
California Towhee
Spotted Towhee
Wilson's Warbler
Common Yellowthroat
Friday we visited De Forest Park in Long Beach for the Warbler. We spent about two hours scouring the park for it, but we came up empty. It is not the most beautiful park, that's for sure. It's full of homeless camps and litter. Thankfully, there was a group of four birders from Orange County that showed up soon after us. We appreciated the company and the safety that numbers brought as the sun set. Unfortunately, the extra eyes weren't enough to find the bird.
We did see:
Warbling Vireo (olive back, eyebrow!, but no wing-bar: this was the closest we got to something like the Arctic Warbler)
Black Phoebes (lots)
Wilson's Warbler (5 or so)
Black-throated Gray Warbler (2)
House Wren (1)
Common Yellowthroat (4)
Vaux's Swift (50)
White-throated Swift (5-10)
Barn Swallow (2)
California Towhee (1)
Bushtit (10)
Cooper's Hawk (3)
Allen's Hummingbird (10)
House Finch
The Vaux's Swifts were probably the highlight of the evening for me. There were tons of them swirling all over the place in a giant flock above us. Occasionally they'd dart in low among the tree tops after some insect or another. Since we only get Vaux's Swifts as migrants, it's always a treat to see them.
Malibu was a little more fruitful, if exhausting. We set our alarm for 5:00 in the morning. When I woke up this morning, I turned over and looked at the clock. It said 4:35. I groaned inside. That's not enough time to get any more rest! I just lay in bed until the alarm went off, and then took a shower. After my shower, I came out to prepare breakfast to find that, somehow, our clock had been set an hour ahead. It was actually 4:30 by then. It had been 3:30 when I awoke.
We got out the door by 5:30 to drive out to Malibu. This works well, I highly recommend it. There wasn't any traffic anywhere on the roads at that time, which was nice. Unfortunately, it was still quite dark and very cold when we arrived at the Malibu Lagoon. We parked far away and walked, since we didn't know where anything was, which had the benefit of warming us up.
The Yellow Wagtail proved much easier to see than the Arctic Warbler. Right after I set up the scope on the bridge over the Lagoon, I saw it. It was too dark, however, to actually see anything much about it. It didn't stick around, either. It flew off quite quickly. We shivered and waited for awhile, but finally decided to head off some sand bars on the other end of the lagoon. It was a pretty walk, and as we arrived, two birders picked up the bird again in their scopes. I set up ours, but we were way too far away for our little telescope. The bird was there, and we could see it, but it just looked like a little dot. After awhile, we asked to look through the other birders' bigger scopes. They were courteous, but the bird was gone by the time I had asked. Bummer.
Anyway, there was no point waiting there anymore with our scope, so we headed off to a third location, more central to the marsh. We waited there for over an hour before the bird showed up again, but it did. We looked through our scope, and through another kind birders scope, before packing up and leaving. It had disappeared again by the time we packed up to go.
Anyway, birds we saw there:
Great Blue Heron
Great Egret
Snowy Egret
Green Heron
Black-crowned Night Heron (getting there before the sun revealed tons of these)
Brown Pelican
Double-crested Cormorant
Mallard
Northern Shoveler
Blue-winged Teal
American Coot
Spotted Sandpiper
Least Sandpiper
Willet
Semipalmated Plover
Ruddy Turnstone
Kildeer
Sanderling
Black Phoebe
Say's Phoebe
Vaux's Swifts (another big flock)
Red-winged Blackbirds
Great-tailed Grackle
Song Sparrow
California Towhee
Spotted Towhee
Wilson's Warbler
Common Yellowthroat
Thursday, September 13, 2007
3:10 to Yuma
Libby and I saw 3:10 to Yuma last night, and we loved it. It's the best movie I've seen in a theater for awhile. We were both riveted the whole movie, and powerfully moved by the climax.
It's a good cowboy movie, with good characters, exciting action, and really great acting by Crowe and Bale. It's full of conventions from other cowboy movies - the slick, dandy gunman, the poor out-of-luck rancher, and the smooth talking intelligent outlaw. I loved it!
It was also based in Southeast Arizona, and the Crowe's character is introduced whilst sketching a bird. It was some raptor I didn't recognize, perhaps a Short-tailed Hawk - if they are conscientious enough to take range into account. I thought that was especially cool, since it's supposed to be taking place in one of the premier birdwatching areas of the United States. Short-tailed Hawks are distributed sparsely in the United States.
In the movie, they travel a route from Bisbee to Contention - here's a map of the way to do it now a days. Some of the country looked very correct (it was actually filmed in New Mexico), but there wasn't enough variety. Most of the movie takes place in mesquite grasslands. They're supposed to travel through a mountain pass, but the mountains don't look anything like Madrean sky islands - much too dry. Still, identifying with the area added something to the movie experience.
View Larger Map
I've never seen the original movie it's based on, so I added it to our Blockbuster queue. I hear it's pretty good, too, and some reviewers definitely liked it better than the current offering. I can't imagine it being much better than this one, though.
It's a good cowboy movie, with good characters, exciting action, and really great acting by Crowe and Bale. It's full of conventions from other cowboy movies - the slick, dandy gunman, the poor out-of-luck rancher, and the smooth talking intelligent outlaw. I loved it!
It was also based in Southeast Arizona, and the Crowe's character is introduced whilst sketching a bird. It was some raptor I didn't recognize, perhaps a Short-tailed Hawk - if they are conscientious enough to take range into account. I thought that was especially cool, since it's supposed to be taking place in one of the premier birdwatching areas of the United States. Short-tailed Hawks are distributed sparsely in the United States.
In the movie, they travel a route from Bisbee to Contention - here's a map of the way to do it now a days. Some of the country looked very correct (it was actually filmed in New Mexico), but there wasn't enough variety. Most of the movie takes place in mesquite grasslands. They're supposed to travel through a mountain pass, but the mountains don't look anything like Madrean sky islands - much too dry. Still, identifying with the area added something to the movie experience.
View Larger Map
I've never seen the original movie it's based on, so I added it to our Blockbuster queue. I hear it's pretty good, too, and some reviewers definitely liked it better than the current offering. I can't imagine it being much better than this one, though.
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