Run To The Hills

I hadn't been to the Lake Tahoe area in around three decades and Jeanine had never been, so we arranged a quick getaway last week, staying in a contactless hotel in South Lake Tahoe. In this instance, "contactless" meant that all information was e-mailed and texted to us, and the room key was a code on a keypad. We were walking distance from the lake and from Van Sickle Bi-State Park, which promised to have some interesting birds, not to mention the novelty of being able to walk into Nevada while roaming the park.

Nashville Warbler

Mountain Chickadees

Wilson's Warbler

California/Nevada Border within Van Sickle Bi-state Park

The drive there was uneventful and relatively free of traffic, which is one of the benefits of starting out during the noon hour on a weekday, and the check-in was as simple as checking my texts. Next, we walked to the park to look around. Jeanine has been amusing herself with Pokémon Go, which is strangely similar to birding, and doing a series of Flat Stanley-esque photographs involving a Star Wars scout trooper toy (named Chuck) that she found in a parking lot awhile back and some other action figure whose identity I forget (named Bruce) purchased at a thrift shop. A calendar of their exploits may be forthcoming. In short, our current hobbies are compatible.

Hermit Warbler

Nashville Warbler

Williamson's Sapsucker

We went to Van Sickle Bi-State Park the first afternoon and then again the first morning in Lake Tahoe. There were lots of Mountain Chickadees and various warblers dancing around in the treetops, occasionally dipping down closer to tease me as I struggled to photograph them. The last bird we saw there was a Williamson's Sapsucker, which came quick on the heels of a Red-breasted Sapsucker. The high point for me was probably the warblers. The first one I saw was a MacGillivray's Warbler, followed later by Nashville, Yellow-rumped, Wilson's, and Hermit Warblers. They were all quite busy doing warbler stuff, which is to be expected. 

Mountain Chickadee

White-headed Woodpecker

Jeanine at Tahoe Marsh

The first morning we ate at Driftwood Cafe, which was tasty and filling. I can't now remember exactly what I ordered, but it involved eggs. Jeanine and I shared our breakfasts, which took away some of the burden of having to choose.

Western Wood-pewee

Steller's Jay

Vikingsholm

Emerald Bay

Thus fortified, we spent the day relying on eBird and Atlas Obscura to decide where to visit. The one nearby Atlas Obscura location that looked worthwhile was Vikingsholm. If you guessed "viking home" then congratulations, although all of the literature calls it a castle. Vikingsholm was built in 1928 on the shore of Emerald Bay (now part of Emerald Bay State Park) by Lora Josephine Knight who wanted a summer home that reminded her of the fjords she'd visited in Norway. Getting there meant grabbing the last remaining parking place in the small lot on Highway 89 and walking down a mile-long pathway (actually the old driveway leading to the property) and buying tickets for a guided tour. It was an interesting house and the surrounding area is beautiful.

Olive-sided Flycatcher

Brewer's Sparrow

Mountain Gartersnake

Afterward, we headed back the way we came and then over the border into Nevada. At Lam Watah Nature Trail, I saw my first lifer of the trip, a Brewer's Sparrow, who in typical sparrow fashion flew off and disappeared into the ground cover, but not before I got a couple of acceptable photos. A little later we came across a gartersnake on the pathway, which proved to be a Mountain Gartersnake, which was new to me as well. 

The weirdest part of this stop was the guy taking his log for a walk. He had a dog too, so I guess in actuality he was taking both his log and his dog for a walk. We saw him at distance carrying a good-sized log over his shoulder like he was marching off to battle with it. Later, when he passed us, he commented on the size of my camera lens, and even later, I lamented that I passed up the opportunity to reply by making a crack about his log. It's probably just as well that I didn't. There is something about a guy carrying a large log with no obvious destination in sight that arouses my suspicions.

 

The next day we floundered about looking for somewhere different to have breakfast until a wrong turn (actually, we possibly overshot a breakfast place I'd noticed the day before) revealed a bagel place, so we had bagel concoctions, and I got a big, black coffee which hit the spot the way coffee nearly always does. We intended to eat our breakfast on the beach but the section of beach we arrived at required some sort of entrance fee (thanks, capitalism) so we ate in the car and looked through the fence at the water.

Then, we drove around the Nevada side of the lake on our way to the must-visit Donnor Party Picnic Area. We did have a picnic of sorts, but most of our time there was taken up by following the small interpretive trail and looking at wildlife. 

Our final major stop of the trip was the Sagehen Creek Trail, just up the road. Being a single-track trail along a creek, it lived up to its name. It was now early afternoon, so the birds had settled down a bit and, other than a trio of Red Crossbills who flew over as we got out of the car and a silent Townsend's Solitaire, the first part of the trek was virtually birdless. The habitat was great though, with banks of Willows on the creek side and mixed woodland on the other. 

Green-tailed Towhee

People kept passing us with their dogs, which is always a bit annoying when you're trying to look for birds, but then I remembered that the creek ended at a reservoir of some sort, so it made sense. The trailhead had been an unassuming dirt pullout which probably means only locals (and people following eBird directions) use it much. We were probably the only non-locals. 

Clark's Nutcracker

About halfway along, there was a sudden flurry of activity featuring warblers and chickadees, and sometime after that, I heard a weird call (one I'd forgotten from last year, apparently) and then Jeanine spotted a Clark's Nutcracker in the tree above us. 

Somewhere in there, a conversation with some passersby revealed that we had about a half an hour of walking to go before we got to the reservoir (Stampede reservoir, I later figured out), so we picked up our pace a bit. 

Mountain Bluebird

The reservoir proved to be a lonely place, at least once the various dog people vanished back up the trail. That said, by the time we got there, I think there was just one other person there, and I'm not sure if there was an accompanying dog. The visible birds were out near the water, including my first Mountain Bluebirds of the year, and my first ever Gray Flycatcher (determined after the fact when I got a chance to look at my photos). There were some juvenile American Robins, another Clark's Nutcracker, a noisy family of Western Wood-pewees, and a briefly seen pair of Red Crossbills, not to mention a bunch of distant waterfowl and a short visit by an American Kestrel.

Gray Flycatcher

Western Wood-pewees

The walk back was uneventful, and by the time we reached the car, the afternoon had leaked away, and shadows were reaching toward the east.

We made a trio of brief stops, first at Emigrant Gap, then at a rest stop, both so I could tick another county off on eBird, and finally at a deli for some much-needed food. Our "picnic" at the Donnor Party Picnic Area had been more like a snack break, so dinner was welcome. My last photo of the trip was a Common Sagebrush Lizard. This may or may not be the first time I've seen one of those.

A week after we got back, I-80 was closed down near Emigrant Gap due to a Tesla semi-truck trying to make its own road, catching on fire, and emitting toxic gas from its blazing batteries. 

 Common Sagebrush Lizard

Literacy Statistics

 Sure, hardly anybody reads this, but now I know that at least for some of the U.S. population (21%), it's because they literally can't. 

Also, my home state has the lowest adult literacy rate in the U.S. That was kind of unexpected. Click here for more. 

Don't Prepare for Your Close-up

 

Sometimes you don't get the close-up shot you imagined you'd get. This is a very tightly cropped photo of a Northern Red Bishop, a species native to Africa, but photographed along the Guadalupe River in San Jose, California. There are apparently breeding populations in Southern California and Texas though, and this one appears to have a mate. eBird lists the species as "exotic/escapee", but maybe that will change as more of them establish themselves. Below are a couple of equally exotic Scaly-breasted Munias, native to southern Asia, which have definitely established themselves in the area. 

Written to the tune of Ludwig Van Beethoven Missa Solemnis, disc 74 of an 85 CD "Complete Works" box set.

Cleaning

 During the traditional pause between summer and the beginning of the school year, I've found the time and energy to do little projects around the house, something I've always been excellent at putting off nearly indefinitely. My current focus is my desk drawer, which I've discovered contains nearly every ballpoint pen ever created. If you've lost one, it's probably because it's in my desk drawer. It's like the theory that lost dryer socks end up in a garage in Wisconsin. Improbable, but then again, who knows? None of this changes the fact that my drawer is full to bursting with pens. 

I also found some odd bits of poetry I wrote during last year's (?) in-service at work. I can't remember the stated goal of the exercise now, other than the usual reflection-based things that teachers often do, and the idea that poetry and outdoor school really do go hand in hand. For instance, I've seen (and somewhere back in the dim recesses of time, posted on this blog) examples of writing by 10-year-olds that in a just universe really should have been published in a more permanent format. 

The following bit of poetry was written in sub-optimal conditions and somewhat under duress. This is because I like to write when I'm alone, not when I'm at work surrounded by people and doing it as some sort of group exercise. Still, I transcribe it here so I can preserve it and recycle the piece of paper it was written on. Pretty freeform and tossing out the rulebook when it comes to meter and rhyme, but when it comes to expression, rules are for fools. 

I notice a gentle breeze playing with the parched leaves

I wonder whether the trees will weather the drought

For the liquid of life they've gone too long without

It reminds me of connections to this world that we share

And the journey of life as we struggle to get somewhere

This somewhere and somehow our open-ended future

Made possible by these connections by wheels within wheels ever spinning

I notice the harsh call of a jay

And a truck that ceased idling

A plane overhead

A goldfinch, distant sighing

Tire crunch of gravel

The twitter of a junco

Chickadees in the cones

Urgent business in the forest

A second bit of writing is shoehorned into the margins, almost as if blank space is somehow offensive, but really because using a second piece of paper would be a waste. It's a peek into what motives me.

The first taste of coffee is before contact with the tongue

Being when and where I am I wouldn't have it otherwise

The first onset of evening and the first hint of dawn

The shift of seasons and all that they promise

Endless epiphanies inspired

A breeze picking up

Subtle changes promise

The endless, frenzied darting of the insects

Finding the hidden

Noticing the unnoticed

Making the connection binding us all

Anticipation propels me around each corner

Each corner beckons

Hiding a mystery

Generally speaking, the first poem is rooted in the present, and the second one is rooted in the future in that it's all about anticipation and change, although change on a cyclical or seasonal level. Anticipation drives me.

Written/transcribed to the tune of No Sun Rises "Ascent/Decay" and Henry Derek Elis "Don't Look"

Birding Natural Bridges State Beach

 When I started getting into birding, I typically went out mid-morning on a Saturday or Sunday each weekend. Jump cut to the present, and I find myself going out earlier and more often, usually on both Saturday and Sunday, and often with a revolving cast of fellow enthusiasts. Despite my loner tendencies, I have to admit that I've made some good friends, not to mention that going out with groups of people who are often more experienced than I am, means we're more likely to see a greater variety of birds. 

Today it was just a pair of us, and our main goal was to find the Summer Tanager reported yesterday at Natural Bridges State Beach in Santa Cruz. It took us all of 10 minutes to find the bird, but it didn't stick around long. In fact, after our initial glimpse, it buggered off into the distant Eucalyptus treetops. Summer Tanagers are rare in California, normally breeding closer to the gulf coast and wintering mostly in South America. This is the only one I've seen locally this year.

Summer Tanager

Later, wandering along West Cliff Drive, we found a single Wandering Tattler and a solitary Surfbird, not to mention countless gulls, cormorants, and pelicans. 

Wandering Tattler

 Surfbird

The only mystery we encountered is why somebody would name a Heerman's Gull "Chad."

Bodega Bay, June into July, 2024

I could say that we chose to go to Bodega Bay for a few days because we hadn't explored that part of the state yet (apart from stopping at The Birds cafe on the way home from Fort Bragg a couple of years ago) but the truth is that during a heatwave, it's cooler on the coast, not to mention that there was a rare Yellow-throated Loon hanging out at the north end of the bay. 

So yeah, relative coolness and relative rarity. It's a good thing Jeanine was happy with the destination too. We're both alike in that we take things as they come and always find a way to enjoy them. 

It only takes a couple of hours to get there, at least when the traffic gods cooperate. It was even cooler than expected when we arrived, not to mention windy There were plenty of loons in the water although, as far as I could tell, none of them were the specific bird I was hoping to see. We went to The Birds Cafe again and I managed to dump most of my coffee on Jeanine. Before that, we got some lunch at Diekman's Store for some deli-type lunches. Over the railing I noticed a bunch of Willets and a smaller bird that turned out to be a Ruddy Turnstone, which is apparently rare locally. 

Later, looking toward the ocean and literally holding on to our hats to prevent them from being blown over the bluff, we witnessed an accumulation of Common Murres living up to their name out on the rocks. During this brief trip, it felt like we saw all of the Common Murres in the world clinging to the offshore rocks like lichen. Good for them.

The next day was partially taken up by visiting a couple of odd sites we had discovered using the Atlas Obscura app. - the first one being the Children's Bell Tower, erected as a memorial to young Nicholas Green, killed in a botched robbery in Italy. His parents donated his organs and corneas afterwards, helping seven different Italian patients. Many of the various bells that make up the tower were sent from Italy by various schools, churches, mines, and ships. The haunting songs of Swainson's Thrushes resounded from nearby trees. 

The second stop was the mammoth rubbing stones up near Jenner. We'd missed them last time on our way south from Fort Bragg. They're a couple of jagged, upthrust bits of blueschist once visited by prehistoric megafauna and used as spot to scratch itches and otherwise aid in their grooming routines.

After a time, we drove back toward Bodega Bay and then inland. If we had an old school thermometer, we could have watched the mercury rise rapidly as we headed to Ragle Ranch Park to look for weasels. It was in the mid-nineties by the time we got there and the weasels, being smarter than us, stayed underground for the duration. I had gotten a brief glimpse of a weasel back near the mammoth rubbing stones after some agitated White-crowned Sparrows alerted us that something was amiss, but the wily little beast was feeling photo-sensitive, so no documentation was achieved. 

On the way back from our failed weasel search, we stopped at a small cemetery where Jeanine stumbled upon the final resting place of Nicholas Green. We meditated on death while a single Lazuli Bunting sang from some nearby Eucalyptus trees. 

After dinner, I tried once more for the Yellow-billed Loon. So far, I'd taken countless photos of loons, but I was pretty sure all of them had been Common Loons, a species that lived up to its name locally. This time I was successful. There was already another photographer there. He'd just filled up his SD card and was leaving, so I hunkered down by the shore and showed enough restraint that my own SD card still had room for possibilities when I was done. The first photo below shows the Yellow-billed Loon in the foreground with a Common Loon lurking behind.

The Common Loons, not used to being ignored, struck some fancy poses.

In the morning, there was a Bald Eagle visible from our deck. Our last stop before heading south on Highway One was the schoolhouse (now a private residence) featured in Hitchcock's The Birds. 

We stopped in a bookstore in Point Reyes Station, and then at Point Reyes before heading home.

We of course rewatched Hitchcock's The Birds upon arriving home, although unfortunately the only version available for free streaming was the colorized one, which means I'm going to be rewatching it again sometime soon.

Written to the tune of Beethoven's String Quartets Op. 59 Nos. 1 & 2. 

Current Entertainment

 I'm currently reading a newish edition of Algernon Blackwood stories, rewatching (with Jeanine) Lars Von Trier's The Kingdom Season 2 in preparation for watching the relatively newly released Season 3 and listening (as I type) to Xasthur's "Inevitably Dark" double CD. 

For old time's sake, here's a picture of a subtly beautiful Northern Pacific Rattlesnake, found in a shed by a coworker. At the request of our garden coordinator, it was released into the big pile of unused decorative landscaping rocks near our garden so it can continue the good work of eating voles and other miscreants.

 

Two stories Relating to Body Parts Being Made Into Something Greater Than Their Sum

 Recently, I learned interesting things about a couple of friends.

A friend of around 40 years is in the final stages of making guitar picks out of his own skull. He just needs to dip them in resin. The backstory is that a few years ago he had a massive stroke which necessitated the removal of part of his skull. Said part was replaced by bionic parts (or, a 3D printed replacement, if you want the boring version) and he got to keep the original bits. Part of me wants one, but I'd feel awkward asking. 

A newer friend revealed this weekend that he's literally Dr. Frankenstein. Sure, his last name is actually Frank, but his family name used to be Frankenstein until his first ancestor to emigrate to the U.S. was warned that he should change his surname due to its association with the titular character in Mary Shelley's novel, not to mention the fact that politicians at the time were using the name to insult their opponents. And yes, my friend has a PhD, so he's a doctor, just not one of medicine.