2021 Reading

 I read the same number of books this year (47) as I did in 2020, but about 7,000 fewer pages. I blame Steven Erikson for the discrepancy, since 2020 was the year I finished the Malazan Book of the Fallen series. That said, not included in my 2021 list is the book I'm currently reading, which clocks in at around 1,050 pages, and Timothy Renner's slim volume, "The Witch Cloud - The Haunted Bridges of Gettysburg, Pennsilvania" which has yet to be added to either Goodreads or Discogs (it comes with a Black Happy Day lathe-cut 5" record).

The End Births A Beginning

 Traditionally, the week between Christmas and New Year's Day is a time of reflection. Not much else ever seems to happen during this time period. I realize, of course, that many people never reflect at all, and it shows. Our society has become fragmented by social media, with digital enclaves of suspicious people peering out over the tops of digital barriers, menacingly waving their Twitter spears at each other with unveiled hostility. All of the isms are very much still in play, and those who know the least continue to be the loudest. In Antarctica, a massive wall of ice dubbed as the Doomsday Glacier shows signs of giving up the ghost, unleashing catastrophe. The Omicron Covid variant is in the news, although many digital enclaves have their heads buried deep in the internet so they don't have to engage with reality. So yeah, the world is messy.

Personally, my year was pretty good. Work sort of returned to normal. I realized I don't really miss going to stores (although my online purchasing has gotten out of hand) and I've developed a habit of getting up early so I can go find birds. Speaking of which, my creative eggs are all firmly in the bird photography basket at the moment, but I have plans to get back into drawing, thanks to a couple of recent gifts from Willow. I've started using eBird to log bird sightings, and late in the year I decided to see if I could log 200 species by December 31st. This means I have two days to find my final three species, but I have a plan.

I don't have any walking or reading stats at my fingertips. I'm currently in the middle of Tad William's massive fourth "Otherland" book, with 700 or so pages to go. I turned 54 this year, and at some point recently, I realized that I could probably calculate pretty accurately how many more books I'll be able to read before I die (based on how many books I get through a year, and roughly how old my parents were when they died - although I realize that I lead a marginally healthier lifestyle than either of them did). The fact that my mom died in the middle of a book, which was left open on the kitchen table, sometimes haunts me. That said, none of us ever get to see the end of the story. It continues on with or without us. Our personal stories never really end either. Our connections bear fruit in the minds of others. Ideally, our inspiration outlives us. 

Unless, of course, we're among those who don't reflect and inspire, in which case we're more likely to be simply erased from history.

These stream-of-consciousness ramblings brought to you while under the influence of: Bernardo Devlin "Chroma"

Christ Mess

 Of late, my pattern is to post here whenever I have a couple of weeks off. My recharging time needs to be longer these days, I guess. I'd hate to discover what things would be like if I had a less appealing job. As things stand, work weeks fly by like plummeting falcons, and the weeks off aren't much slower. That's one of the problems with getting older - we never have as much time left as we think we do, and the clocks are all ticking out grindcore beats. Long gone are days when December lasted months. This year, my holiday shopping was mostly confined to the last week. We plan a small gathering later today. Most of us have had booster shots, and many of us avoid crowds. I know I do.

I'm still focusing on bird photography (pun intended), and lately I've taken to using eBird to report findings. According to eBird, my life list stands at 192 species, although there are a bunch of birds that I saw when I wasn't counting. I may add a couple more to the list before the end of the year. 

I plan to post here again before the end of the year with a more fleshed-out reflection (although I had an epiphany earlier this year about how I don't really "plan" - I'm more of a spur-of-the-moment improvisor type in everything I do, from teaching to playing music). Happy holidays, may they be Omicron free.

Typed to the merry tune of: Mandible Chatter "Drinking Out the Hourglass"

A Year And A Half Later...

 For the first time in 18 months, we had a week of residential science camp. Sure, there were fewer than 40 kids, but they stayed overnight in cabins, sleeping on the new beds and mattresses that are reportedly much more comfortable (not to mention bedbug-proof) than the old ones. In order to maintain cohort distance, the cabin groups were also field class groups, which is different from our normal approach of mixing up the groups so kids get to meet as many new people as possible. This week, it didn't really matter anyway, since there was only one school attending. We had initially scheduled two schools, but one rescheduled for later in the year. 

There were three cabin/field class groups. Mine consisted of 9 girls and 4 cabin leaders, although one of the latter went home on Monday due to migraine-related exhaustion. Normally, there would be a mixture of boys and girls in field class, but since there isn't in the cabins, currently field classes are a little less diverse.

The girls had a great time, and some of them were already quite knowledgable about the subject matter covered. The cabin leaders were competent, and it was nice to see the bond that grew between them and the girls. Normally, this isn't quite as evident in field class, because the cabin groups are split between multiple field class leaders. 

There was a garter snake at our meeting spot two days in a row, which proved to be a hit with the kids. The forest is noticably browner than usual due to the drought, which is worrying. There is some drizzle in the forecast for this weekend, but it won't amount to much. 

The night hike went smoothly, despite the fact that I hadn't led one in 18 months. We heard a Western Screech-owl and a Northern Pygmy Owl in quick succession, not to menton finding 10 or so Western Forest Scorpions with the aid of my UV light. Earlier in the day we found Western Screech-owl and Northern Saw-whet Owl feathers by the creek. The most unusual animal sighting of the week was a startled pair of Spotted Sandpipers at the reservoir. 

I hadn't realized how much I actually missed the normalcy of camp routine. Hopefully the school year goes smoothly. We're also offering hybrid programs for schools/districts who don't currently allow overnight field trips. so some weeks I'll most likely be leading those, or doing other assigned tasks. 

As they say, we're not out of the woods yet, figuratively or literally. As long as the woods don't catch on fire or die from the drought, we should be okay.

Written to the tune of Mike Seed "A Boy Mistaken For A Crow"

The Tides of Time Don't Quite Wash Everything Away

Today marks the 20 year anniversary of weaponized airplanes forever changing the skyline of NYC, not to mention the more subtle changes this inspired in the minds of the American public. Tomorrow marks the 1.5 year anniversary of the last time I worked a normal week of science camp. One can hardly compare these two events, I realize, but here they are, sharing a paragraph. 

We have a mere 30 students attending camp this coming week, split into 3 cabin/field class cohorts. Wednesday will mark the first night hike I will have led since the pandemic started. I had a full three weeks off in August, during which I did very little. This was followed by a couple weeks of training and gearing up for the school year, during which details were ironed (and re-ironed) out. We'll have to see how this coming week plays out. 

Written to the pulsing tones of Xambuca "Thaum"

Of Dippers and Decapitations, Plus Guns

 This country's fuse is a short one. In addition to all of the usual alcohol and explosions over the holiday weekend, there was a rash of gun violence. In Chicago alone, 14 people were killed. I just now found a site called Gun Violence Archive, which is a nonprofit that keeps track of all U.S. gun violence. A New York Post article states that at least 150 people were shot to death nationwide this weekend. A least one commentator on the GVA site maintains that our country has a mental health/anger problem, which I totally agree with. Of course, the commentator was approaching the discourse from a "don't take our guns away" angle, which seems a bit at odds with his comment. So, do we just let all of the mentally ill, angry people keep their guns? Sure, the question simplifies a somewhat complex issue, but it does illustrate the problem. Something needs to be done. I would be happy if all guns disappeared tomorrow, but I know that's not going to happen. I'm also fine with responsible gun owners keeping their guns, but the big question is, how do we keep them out of the hands of the mentally ill, angry people? I'm willing to bet that most gun owners would object to regular mental health checkups and anger management courses. This is where I would say tough shit. With great power comes great responsibility and all of that. I would like to see some data about what percentage of people who commit gun violence are so-called "responsible gun owners". 

I didn't start out to write about gun violence, but my stream of thought has many side channels, not to mention eddies. I was actually going to write about the headless baby opossum I found in the driveway earlier. I got home from looking for (and finding) an American Dipper, and found the poor 'possum sprawled headlessly on the concrete. From the look of the neck, it looked like some animal had chewed through it. Jeanine said she'd been out front a mere five minutes before and hadn't noticed it, which is weird. I'm guessing that it was there all along though, since opossums are nocturnal. Who knows though?  It's probably the baby we've been seeing in the backyard lately, although there may be more than one. We'll have to keep an eye out.

Oh, and here's the Dipper. 

Written to the sounds of Doc Wor Mirran feat. Schnitzler "Diaspar Parts 1 to 12"

Summer So Far...

 I went for a hike with Willow and Alex last weekend, choosing the trails at the upper end of Sanborn Park as our destination. We could probably have fried eggs in the sun, and under the canopy it was still warm, but bearably so. Now, Nathan is the only one of the siblings who hasn't come hiking with me during the pandemic. When I started this blog, Alex was 6 and Willow was nearly half a year away from being born. Now, Alex is in his mid-twenties and Willow is 18. Not that I have either constantly or consistently posted updates, but still... (a quick aside, apparently one dates oneself when using an ellipsis properly - a volunteer counselor at camp this week mentioned that it appears ominous when received in a text, like the tension-filled pause before the other shoe drops)

It's always nice to hike with Willow and any of the old stepkids who are available to come along. I might be the least busy of the bunch these days, since I rarely make weekend plans, choosing instead to be free to act on whims, which usually means leaving the house before 8:00 AM and going birding. Oddly enough, I caught a gopher snake while birding yesterday, but only long enough to brush the spider webs from its head (it looked like it had crawled through some dense webbing). I let it go off the trail so nobody would accidentally step on it or run it over. 

Week three of summer camp is behind us. Our iNaturalist project created to document the varied life found on and around our trails is currently at 779 species. I'm currently learning how to differentiate species of Yellowjacket (3 different species so far). At least one camper has created an iNaturalist account after seeing the project. He hasn't observed anything yet though.

The fire season is well underway, with reports of fires throughout the west, although none have hit close to home... yet (see what I did there?). The Pacific Northwest is sweltering under unreasonable heat, and the drought conditions are sure to make the coming months interesting.

Written to the languid strains of Boris "Boris at Last - Feedbacker"

A Moment of Whimsy Produces A Brief Update

Time sneaks by me like an uninvited guest, and suddenly it's late May. Willow graduates from high school this coming week, Eva is working at a florist, and Jeanine is splitting time between her pandemic job and her own business. My last day teaching virtual camp was yesterday. Will it be the last day ever? The uninvited guest may have something to say about that someday.

If the past 14 months have taught me anything, it's that I'm adaptable. Zoom has been our organization's meeting room and classroom of choice. We usually teach 10 and 11 year olds, but this year we had a few in-person weeks of camp with preschoolers and special educaton students as well, not to mention a few weeks with general-educaton 5th graders. I also spent a bit of time travelling to other sites to help procter/facilitate Covid testing. 

Next up, a week off and then summer camp. 

Written to the tune of Unrecognizable Now "Two Rooms"

Watching Wildlife

So far this year, I have been rudely staring at birds and taking their photos. I even spent a 4-day weekend counting them recently, as part of the GBBC (also known at the Great Backyard Bird Count). I counted 69 different species over those four days. On the last day of the count, I actually counted in our backyard (and a bit in the front yard for variety) and saw 22 different species, including one, a Northern Flicker, that I hadn't seen near our yard before. The next day, I saw my first White-crowned Sparrow near the yard, and two days ago a pair of Western Bluebirds out front (I see these pretty much every day at work, but this was a first seeing some at home). So, yeah, I've gone full bird-nerd. 

I have logged some observations on eBird, and some on iNaturalist. We have been using iNaturalist as part of our virtual camp routine with kids, and have even gotten at least one kid to create an account there. I have two accounts, one to log sightings at work, and one for everywhere else. My personal account is relatively new, so there aren't a lot of sightings there yet. For what it's worth, here's what I've logged so far.

So It Begins...

 For this year at least, I gave up the idea of staying up until midnight to ring in the new year. I used to be a creature of nocturnal habits, but these days I'm ready to sleep by 10:00 PM. I'm not sure what has changed, other than my age. Maybe nothing. 

This morning, I'm catching up on listening to music I bought during the last Bandcamp day. Bandcamp is going to continue to waive their fees on select Fridays for at least the immediate future, which means more money in the pockets of the artists. If nothing else, 2020 was a year where a lot of new people realized how essential art, in its myriad forms, is. I can't imagine life without it.

The first music to enter my ears this year has been:

Adrian Lane "Lekko Sketches Volume 3"

Die Geister Beschworen "Compilation Tracks"

irr.app.(ext.) "2020 Monthly Digital Single: Vesicular Distributor (November)"

Loam "Spirits" from "A Musical Benefit for the Yanomami"

Sylvie Walder + irr.app.(ext.) "Melange 1"  

Now, to go do something productive.

Temporal Delineation

 Six hours from now, the new year begins. It's this arbitrary thing we humans do to mark time, and in the long run, it means very little. Still, if there ever was a year that needs to be mentally put in a box labeled "history" and shoved to the back of a drawer somewhere, it is 2020. Generally speaking, being a hopeful species, we expect 2021 to be better. Odds are it will be. The petulant child we've been saddled with as president for four long years is set to leave the White House in three weeks. Vaccines are starting to be distributed. Life continues for most of us. 

My list of personal grievances this year is shorter than it might have been. There has been uncertainty, a collapse of a bathroom wall, and the usual litany of deaths and disasters that accompany our lives. I miss my daughter, who I haven't seen much lately due to us taking this pandemic seriously, but as they say, this too shall pass. 

Happy New Year. May we continue to find inspiration. 

The Holidays, Covid Style

 Being inclined to take such things seriously, we hid the welcome mat and hunkered down for the holidays this year. Greg stayed up north, and Willow stayed at her mom's. Jeanine, Eva, and I exchanged gifts mid-morning while the sky darkened and the wind picked up. I had planned to go out in the afternoon to look for Wood Ducks along Coyote Creek, but decided to stay in due to rain. I've leveled up my bird nerdiness to the point where my outings are sometimes determined by posts to a birding e-mail group. So far, these e-mails have paid off in the form of a Phainopepla and a pair of Ferruginous Hawks, although disappointingly, not a Northern Pygmy Owl. 

The day flew by, and now my reflection stares back at me as I look out the window, ghostlike in the light of my laptop screen. The house is a bit of a mess, but I have new coffee and chocolate to look forward to, plus a slew of practical gifts to subtly make the coming days happier ones.

Despite my intentions, posts here have slowed to a strangled trickle. I wouldn't say work has been busy, since for much of autumn we've been in a holding pattern preparing for a winter of virtual camp with a spattering of actual day camp, not to mention some Covid test proctoring. It's funny how quickly things become the new normal. I've spent more time that I should have photographing wildlife around camp, but we've managed to put together a pretty respectable project on iNaturalist using the photos, so I can justify my actions. 

I have another week off before diving back in to what is sure to be an interesting January. 

Victory

 After four years, we've finally managed to wipe the crap off of our collective shoes. Sure, there will be a smear there on the edge of the curb for awhile, but eventually it will dry up and flake away. 

Monday will mark the first day of actual kids at camp this school year. They will only be there during the day, and only for two days, but it's something, at least. I'm one of the two staff members leading the group.

Autumn

 Yesterday was the Autumn Equinox, and tonight will be just slightly longer than today. I've been back to work these last couple of weeks, getting ready for eventually working with kids again. Our first day with kids is now slated for October 12th, and we'll be in distance-learning babysitter mode for the mornings and early afternoons, and hopefully getting some time to take the kids hiking after their "school days" are over. As with so much else this year, we're heading into uncharted territory. 

I've more or less finished my field guide project, and spent this morning helping clean and organize the nature lab. Each animal now has a dedicated "evacuation cage" if we have to evacuate them again. Did I mention that? We had to briefly evacuate them during the worst of the local fires. It was just a precautionary measure, but still... the fires did get a little closer to home this year. For many, it did much worse, of course. 

We have a new bird bath with a solar-powered fountain bubbling happily away in the yard. The birds have so far mostly ignored it, other than a California Towhee giving it a double-take before flying away. 

On Sunday, I went for a walk at the Sunnyvale Water Pollution Control Plant ponds. I took photos too, of course. Here are a Northern Harrier and a White-faced Ibis.

Oh, and what the hell. Also a Northern Shoveler.

Written to the tune of Empyrium "A Retrospective..."

World Life Expectancy

 While digging around online to find fuel to disprove an irritating infographic, I came across the World Life Expectancy site, which has all sorts of information about causes of death, broken down by country. According to the site, Japan has the greatest average life expectancy rate at 84.2, the U.S. is ranked at number 34, just under Cuba, with and average life expectancy rate  of 78.5. Which country is dead last? That would be Lesotho, with an average life expectancy rate of a mere 52.9, which is coincidentally almost exactly how old I am at the moment. I'm glad that I don't live in Lesotho.

Speaking of infographics and such, I managed to avoid Facebook for a whole day this week, but now I'm back on there getting irritated by stuff again. Our political discourse has devolved into memes and infographics, rife with factual errors and misspellings. People on both sides of the political divide aren't taking the time to fact check things they share, but then again facts seem to have ceased to matter to many people. Our online shouting matches are turning into offline shooting matches, and it's likely to get worse in the days leading up to the elections, and I imagine that the results of the election will be hotly contested as well, probably with violence from whichever side loses. 

How much of the blame for all of this can be laid at the doorstep of social media? Probably a lot of it. People are naive, stupid, and easily led. Right wing hate groups masquerading as patriots are more emboldened than ever, having been given a pass by the president to terrorize at will. There is violence from the left too, although most of it is against property rather than people. This of course adds fuel to lots of fake outrage from the right, and perhaps some real outrage as well. The frustration and anger is palpable. The future is uncertain. 

I'm going to keep doing what I do though. If the current generation goes down in flames, the next generation is going to need to be ready to put things back together again. 

 The fires are still burning. The park buildings at Big Basin State Park have been mostly or completely destroyed, and reports indicate that some of the redwoods have succumbed to the fire as well, despite them being difficult to burn. 

There is a news story that a small asteroid is heading towards Earth, forecast to be here the day before election day. Of course. That said, there is a less that one percent chance of it actually hitting, and it's only around 6 feet across. But still...

The air quality has varied this week. At the moment, it's starting to smell smoky again. In addition, there is more wind and dry lightning in the forecast. 

Here are some more photos of the sunset. There is a kind of apocalyptic beauty here. Don't get me wrong, I rather have standing forests than beautiful sunsets, but sometimes one doesn't get a choice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have one more week before I return to work, and I'm still not exactly sure what we'll be doing as the school year starts.  This week, I'm watching old VHS tapes with the intention of passing them on afterward. It's nice to revisit old favorites. Let it be noted that downsizing is something I don't often do, but the reality is that I don't think I've watched any of these movies since the nineties, so at this rate, I'll be in my mid to late seventies before I watch them again. Time to get rid of them, I think.  

The chickens are kicking up a fuss at the moment. Perhaps they're complaining about the air quality. You and me both, chickens. You and me both.

 

 

Firelight

 

 

This is the western sky a couple of evenings ago, with the sun partially occluded by the airborne remains of our coast range forests. There are several evacuations underway at the moment, and one includes Butano State Park, which I had been planning to visit this week. That's a minor kink in my plans, but a potential tragedy for many as whole communities are at risk. Last night, the setting sun glowed red like a beautifully malevolent eye, and this morning, the light that filtered through are east-facing windows looked like firelight. That goes well with the smell of campfire that permeates the atmosphere. Again, I'm not trying to make light of the very real dangers, but one must find beauty where one can. 

 

In Memorium

 It's easy to fall into the trap of blaming 2020 for all of the various misfortunes that have befallen us this year. Of course, it seems to be human nature to look for some outside agent to vilify. Most misfortune, and most accidents, for that matter, can be avoided with a little preventative planning. One only has to look at how most other countries (with the exception of Brazil) have handled the pandemic. The U.S., for various cultural (our self-centered me-first approach to life) and leadership (need I elaborate? I didn't think so) reasons, has failed pandemic 101. We will no doubt have to retake the class in the form of a second wave. That is, if we ever manage to emerge from the first wave. 

The divergent plate boundary of our political divide yawns wider every week. Out of work people are being sucked into all manner of dodgy conspiracy theories, troll attacks, general misinformation, and rabid rabbit holes of reactionary emotions. Or at least that's how I see it. Sure, the media is drawn to sensationalism, and politicians lie. That's a given. That said, our black-and-white mentality no longer recognizes shades of gray. I find myself once again waiting to cast a vote for another lesser evil ticket, while the greater evil lashes out at USPS, of all things. Afraid that all of the votes will be counted? Sabotage the delivery system. Cast doubts. Brazenly admit it. 

A lot of this political chaos can be laid at the feet of the pandemic, but the pandemic has merely deepened wounds that were already there. It's like stabbing somebody in a cut.

Alongside all of this, the daily challenges of life seem all that much more overwhelming. It's almost comical at times. As I type I can hear power tools as contractors put our bathroom back together (after the wall collapsing weeks ago). The usual August fires (yes, our fire season even came with fire tornadoes this year) are in full bloom. A temperature of 130 degrees Fahrenheit was recorded in Death Valley this week. Eva found a termite in her room. Despite having caught 6 or 7 rats, we still have rats in our walls. We're being invaded by mites, probably from the rats. My tarantula just died. We're in the middle of a heat wave. I could probably go on...  The mixture of global and personal is relentless sometimes, especially this year.

On top of all that, people die. In the past week or two, one old friend, one relative, two musicians I admire, and one author I like have disembarked from the physical plane into the great airport of the beyond.

I met Ellen Primack when she got a job at Tower Books back in the nineties. We quickly realized we had similar tastes in music and film. She ended up living in the same apartment complex as I did for awhile. I was living at the time with my friend and coworker Laura, and her daughter Kelly. I attended her wedding at nearby Shoreline park. It was Halloween themed, if I remember right. Long story short, eventually we moved (I can't now remember which of us moved away first) away from the complex and she eventually ended up on the opposite coast. More recently, she was a Facebook friend who I didn't often interact with, but it's still a shock to find out a friend has died. Maybe I should have seen it coming. Her Facebook posts were often about being in the hospital, but it's sometimes hard to tell how serious things are. I'm one of those private people who is reluctant to share his troubles online (or even in person, for that matter - this post excepted, probably, but then again very few people read this), so I don't often pay close attention to other people's troubles. I feel like I'm invading their privacy somehow, which may be a weird way of looking at it, especially when I consider that they're willingly sharing their troubles on a public forum, but my discomfort in oversharing extends to witnessing other people oversharing, if that makes any sense. Ellen was a teacher and an artist, so she leaves a legacy of enriched minds and artwork.

Pete Haworth was the guitarist for NWOBHM band, Legend. Over the years, they have become perhaps my favorite band in that sub-genre. There was a thoughtful darkness to their songs, and a political awareness often missing from other metal bands from that time period. Pete's guitar sound was incredibly heavy and his playing nuanced and masterful. Legend was in the midst of working on a new album, and I can't help but wonder how close to completion it was. Will their 2013 album, "The Dark Place," be the final one, or will the new one see the light of day? The selfish part of me wants to know. I didn't know Pete, but I did interact with him in limited fashion on Facebook, and found him to be a genuinely nice guy. He will be missed, and his music lives on.

Within days of finding out about the death of Pete Haworth, I learned that ex-UFO bassist Pete Way had also died. It was a bad week to be named Pete. I hadn't followed his recent career very closely, but I have a fondness for those old UFO records from my childhood. 

While being a fly on the wall of the Malazan Facebook forum, I saw that author and musician Carlos Ruiz Zafón had died in June, a fact that had somehow gone unnoticed at the time. Reading this forced me to un-fly myself for a bit. His book, The Shadow of the Wind, is a particular favorite of mine, but I've enjoyed everything I've read by him.  Another voice silenced, but many of his previous words are preserved for all time.

Finally, this morning I got an e-mail from my brother Greg informing me that my uncle, Jerry Olander, had passed away. His wife, Jan, my dad's sister, preceded him in death by a few years. I didn't know Jerry well. As an adult, I visited the Olanders exactly once, and that was a few years ago. This must be what getting old is like - a slow peeling away of friends, acquaintances, and heroes.

Final Weeks of Summer Camp for 2020

 The last two weeks of summer camp blew by in a flurry of sunshine and sweat. I was a solo leader during the first of the two, and I was joined by Otter for the last week. That final week was probably the toughest, at least when it came to enforce the mask rule. One boy always had his mask underneath his nose, and another boy had minor meltdowns about his mask by mid-afternoon on a couple of days. Apparently the first boy had attended a camp where the rule wasn't enforced. That's worrying in and of itself. We carried on though, and everybody had fun.

Our school year camp will most likely be modeled after our summer camp this year, although the details are still being worked out. I still have two weeks of time to call my own before diving back in.

I did manage to confirm a sighting of one additional new-to-me bird in the middle of the last week. There were around 30 birds darting around just above the water at the reservoir. At least some of them were Barn Swallow, and there might have been some other swallow species in the mix as well. I pointed my lens at some nearby birds (as one does) and ended up only getting one usable shot (usable for ID purposes, but not by any means a good photo). Inspecting the photo, I came to the conclusion the bird was a Vaux's Swift (pronounced like "foxes"). I posted it to a birding forum to confirm. I might have seen one last year too, but it was incredibly high up and  didn't manage to get a photo, so this is my first confirmed sighting. These birds are incredible flyers, and can only land on vertical surfaces, which means that getting a picture of one perching is incredibly unlikely.

There are at least two young Gray Foxes who patrol the garden and lower field area. They've marked the area thoroughly with piles of scat, and love eating fallen fruit. Sometimes they're too impatient to wait for it to fall. One photo below shows a fox in a tree, hunting for fruit. Gray Foxes are the only canines who can easily climb. In many ways, they behave more like felines. These foxes let me get within 15 feet of them without acting too alarmed. I have a feeling they would have been much less visible if we had run at our usual capacity this year.

 

 

During the final week, Barn Swallows were much more visible, probably due to the new fledglings making their first appearances outside of the nest. They were still visibly begging for food whenever there were other swallows nearby.

 

Jeanine found an old plague doctor mask in storage (as one does), so I wore it a work. It seemed like the thing to do this year.

 

 

Sometimes you click the shutter at exactly the right moment. Here's a fox appearing to run on two legs.

 

Bushtits are tiny and quick. Males and juveniles have dark eyes, and adult females have pale ones.

 

 

There were a number of young deer out and about. Here are two of them between the Orange group and Green group meeting spots.

Here's my animal count for the entire summer: We worked all of July, but only the first week of August. Usually, we would have worked all of June as well, so this summer's count is missing a month of data. June tends to be the month when we see the most animals, but 82 different species is nothing to scoff at. I'm the only one counting during the summer, but several other staff members told me of sightings that I then added to this list.

Critter Count Summer 2020 (82 species)

July: (80 different species)

Acorn Woodpecker (11)

American Bullfrog (19)

American Coot (1)

American Crow (5)

American Robin (9)

Anna’s Hummingbird (5)

Ash-throated Flycatcher (1)

Banana Slug (13)

Band-tailed Pigeon (7)

Barn Swallow (3)

Bewick’s Wren (2)

Black-headed Grosbeak (1)

Black Phoebe (7)

Black-tailed Deer (12)

Bobcat (1)

Broad-footed Mole (1)

Brown Creeper (8)

Brush Rabbit (3)

Bushtit (23)

California Giant Salamander (17)

California Ground Squirrel (5)

California Newt (55) (48 in Newt York City - the pond where they congregate year-round)

California Quail (29)

California Scrub-jay (7)

California Towhee (2)

California Vole (2)

Calisoga Spider (1)

Cassin’s Vireo (1)

Chestnut-backed Chickadee (18)

Common Raven (2)

Common Sharp-tailed Snake (1)

Common Yellowthroat (1)

Dark-eyed Junco (60)

Downy Woodpecker (4)

European Carp (14)

Gopher Snake (1)

Gray Fox (2)

Great Blue Heron (2)

Great Egret (1)

House Finch (4)

Lesser Goldfinch (5)

Mallard (4)

Merriam’s Chipmunk (4)

Mourning Dove (2)

Northern Alligator Lizard (4)

Northern Flicker (4)

Northern Pacific Rattlesnake (4)

Northwestern Pond Turtle (1)

Nuttall’s Woodpecker (4)

Oak Titmouse (2)

Olive-sided Flycatcher (1)

Pacific Slope Flycatcher (16)

Pacific Wren (4)

Pileated Woodpecker (2)

Purple Finch (1)

Red-shouldered Hawk (1)

Red-tailed Hawk (4)

Red-winged Blackbird (3)

Ringneck Snake (1)

Round-backed Millpedes (4)

Santa Cruz Garter Snake (3)

Sharp-shinned Hawk (1)

Sierran Tree Frog (1)

Signal Crayfish (5)

Spotted Towhee (5)

Steller’s Jay (29)

Tiger Centipede (1)

Turkey (1)

Turkey Vulture (2)

Warbling Vireo (1)

Western Bluebird (2)

Western Fence Lizard (42)

Western Forest Scorpion (4)

Western Gray Squirrel (6)

Western Skink (10)

Western Tanager (1)

Western Toad (2)

Wilson’s Warbler (2)

Wrentit (4)

Yellow-spotted Millipede (4)

August: (48 different species) 2 not seen in July

Acorn Woodpecker (3)

American Bullfrog (7)

American Crow (7)

American Robin (6)

Anna’s Hummingbird (2)

Banana Slug (6)

Band-tailed Pigeon (4)

Barn Swallow (30)

Black Phoebe (4)

Black-tailed Deer (2)

Brown Creeper (2)

California Giant Salamander (3)

California Ground Squirrel (5)

California Newt (16)

California Quail (10)

California Scrub-jay (2)

California Towhee (2)

Chestnut-backed Chickadee (7)

Cliff Swallow (2)

Dark-eyed Junco (20)

European Carp (2)

Gray Fox (1)

Great Blue Heron (1)

Great Egret (1)

House Finch (9)

Mallard (2)

Mourning Dove (1)

Northern Alligator Lizard (2)

Northern Pacific Rattlesnake (4)

Northwestern Pond Turtle (1)

Nuttall’s Woodpecker (2)

Pacific Slope Flycatcher (2)

Pileated Woodpecker (1)

Red-tailed Hawk (1)

Red-winged Blackbird (1)

Round-backed Millipede (2)

Sierran Tree Frog (2)

Signal Crayfish (2)

Spotted Towhee (2)

Steller’s Jay (7)

Turkey Vulture (1)

Vaux’s Swift (1)

Western Bluebird (1)

Western Fence Lizard (10)

Western Forest Scorpion (1)

Western Skink (2)

Western Toad (1)

Wrentit (2)

 

Those Violent Winds That Blow From Nowhere

A little after 3:00 AM this morning, a slap of wind rolled across the valley, whipping the trees into helpless dances and rearranging items in countless yards. It was followed by flashes of intense light and the sound of colliding air. I found myself sleepily meditating on the possibility of a stereo system that could mimic the intensity of thunder. As I did so, bits of humidity detached themselves from the sky and slipped down through the darkness to meet their messy end on cement and soil. The thunderstorm lasted into the dawn. The rain didn't amount to much, but the lightning was impressive. Apparently, many mall fires resulted, although I how serious they are, I haven't heard. 

Apparently there was a fire tornado warning in the sierras yesterday though. That's so 2020. Fire tornadoes. 

I haven't yet written about the last couple of weeks of summer camp, or posted attendant photos here. Right now, the heat and humidity have left me uninspired. I was sweating right after getting out of bed this morning. Lots of other things are happening in the news, setting the stage for a messy and perhaps terrifying election season. There was a recent report that the Greenland ice sheet is past the point of no return. I've been losing myself in Star Trek episodes lately, which is as good an escape as any, and a salve to the mind with the utopian future it presents. Our immediate global future seems to be heading in the opposite direction. 

Our bathroom is still being fixed/remodeled. How exciting. 

I went for a walk with Willow recently. I haven't seen a lot of her during the pandemic. Since she works at a pizza place, she is worried about inadvertently getting me sick. I love her for that, but I miss her.