A tale of Pineapples, F-18's, Steve Howell, 36 baird's beaked whales, the immensly deadly rattle-less rattlesnake, and a whale with diharrea, Part2

TALE OF THE SALTON SEA

We coasted in to the harbour on a cool and fresh 6:30 am. The violet green swallow that landed on the boat the night before, over 100 miles from shore, was gone. We would enjoy this cool breeze while we could, because it was about to get hot. Very hot. We were headed for the Salton Sea. The Salton Sea is an inland body of very salty water near the border of Mexico. It is a place of magical birding. It is also a place where Satan goes on vacation. There are two reactions when one first visits this place. First, "WOW THERE ARE SO MANY BIRDS." Then, immediately upon stepping out of the car, "OH MY GOD, MY NIPPLES ARE GOING TO FRY OFF."

It was 111 degrees with 67% humidity. They say the open ocean is the final frontier of birding, but I say it is the Salton Sea. Could we survive the whole day?

REVENGE OF THE PINEAPPLE

Provisioned with an overdue pineapple of victory and some icy water, we somehow endured. And the birding was good, so I'll just summarize it. One female Ruff, 1 Gull-billed tern, many Yellow-footed gulls, two "large-billed" savannah sparrows, 2 wood storks, Abert's towhees, burrowing owl and common ground doves.

After defeating the Yellow-footed Gull, the Pineapple of Victory was sliced and devoured in its entirety, but left our mouths raw, furrowed and burning while the Salton blasted us with stinky heat.

The birds panted in desperation.

We ended the day photographing a nice one, a white-belted ringtail.


THE TATTLING

The next day, after our recovery, I got up early again. I don't think I've gotten up after 6 am more than 10 times since april. It was going to be a big day. We first headed for a secret beach that Neil covets for its wandering tattlers. We got there and immediately executed the tattling. Two tattlers were stalked and photographed the crap out of.



A drive through orange, and several Ferraris, Porshes and an Aston Martin later, we raided Bolsa Chica Preserve, where an Elegant Tern colony resides. But it was not Elegant Terns we searched for, but a bird much more rare and beautiful. The Sooty Tern. It had been squatting here for some time. But as we scanned the thousands of Caspians, Skimmers, Royals, Elegants, and Forsters, there was no Sooty Tern in sight. We would have to be happy seeing Belding's savannah sparrows and reddish egrets...for now.


But we had not given up. After a couple hours of recuperation by means of In-N-Out burger and a glorious bout of boogie boarding at the beach (my first time doing ever something with Neil that did not involve binoculars), we were back. This time, it submited.

THE GNATCATCHER OF DOOM

In the morning, we relied on the bicycles for our mission. Subaru, you have served us well. To a park with gnatcatchers. We destroyed several birds in one fell swoop. First, the Least Bell's Vireo, still singing. Then, a white-tailed kite. It was on the hills of destiny that we found two California Gnatcatchers.

Then, I nearly met my doom. I stepped off the trail (past the "no leaving the trail sign"), to go after a third Gnatcatcher. It was as I put my foot down that I heard a very pissed off hissing sound, which made me jump backward. It was a Southern Pacific Rattlesnake, and it was very pissed off and missing its rattle, which probably made it even more pissed off. In any case, it was about one and a half feet from my foot, so its a good thing they are reluctant to bite.

At a different park, later, we found another rattlesnake which was much more "friendly."


The next thing I knew I was on a plane to San José, to visit my cousins Nico and Kyle and My aunt Vonny and Unkle Sam. Perhaps its time to slow down and spend some time with family, to do some stuff not involving birds for a change. Plus I've always kind of wanted to go to Point Reyes...

A tale of Pineapples, F-18's, Steve Howell, 36 baird's beaked whales, the immensly deadly rattle-less rattlesnake, and a whale with diharrea, Part1

Welcome to this final, two-part post of the Raging Birder. It has been an interesting summer which I have salvaged fully and beyond with birding. Whether you have followed the antics post-by-post, or just skimmed over the pictures if you are a lazy reader (in which case you won't be reading this), I hope you have enjoyed a glimpse into the delights and devilments of birding.

Enough! Let me get on with the tale...

On August 16th, one of my dreams came true. After a beautiful 2:30 hours of sleep (damn you greyhound!), I awakened to a now familiar sound: Neil waking me up. Soon I was standing beside my great companion once again. This time, a third matee leaned out from the bow as we set sail on a misty morning through the harbour of San Diego. He was known as Kenny, the third companion.

THE FLIGHT OF THE BOOBY

This was no beautiful tanned mermaid. It was a brown booby, a bird that all people want to see. Unlike white boobies, they come from Mexico.

The pervertedly good view launched us into our 48 hour, 2 night voyage to the high seas, in search of great and mysterious sights. Our vessel: the Grande, a sturdy craft that could carry a full deck of scallywags over 100 miles from land, and plow huge ocean sunfish in its path.

A HUMAN BIRD MACHINE

The booby was not the first pelagic bird seen. In fact, Steve Howell spotted about 100 storm petrels and shearwaters before any other person saw one. Then the lower, earthly people spotted them, one by one. A pink-footed shearwater, a couple black storm petrels. A least storm petrel flew by. The lifers were stacking up.

(Black Storm-Petrel, courtesy of Bob Doe)

WILL WE GET SCURVY?

"So, what did you bring for us to eat this time, Neil?
- Peanut butter and banana burritos."
So you slather some Jiffy peanut butter on a tortilla and wrap it around a banana. Thus, the Banito was born. Over the course of the journey, we came to love and hate the Banito. Luckily he had some trail mix also.

DAWN AT SEA

The next day I woke up in a tiny bunk just as the sun was about to come up. It was dark and I could feel the sea wind blowing through the open door into the quarters. I could already hear people talking on the deck, so I dragged myself out and joined the onlookers. There was a flock of Sabine's gulls with red-necked and red phalaropes circling the boat. They just circled and circled, who knows why. To add to the bizarery, a common yellowthroat was doing laps of its own.

Not only does a pelagic offer a long span of time in which to see rarities, it also allows for immense periods of boredom in which to contemplate seeing rarities. Then, when you least expect it, a bird sitting on some kelp is a south polar skua!

Often, the boredom, or long lazy conversation is violently broken by chaotic YELLING!. TROPICBIIIRD!!!!!!!!

(photo courtesy of Bob Doe)

And everyone lunges to the side of the boat, bashing into eachother to get by. Even elderly ladies that look like they might normally have trouble walking are plowing through the bodies, and not afraid to throw a couple bows for a bowel-loosening view. Hold onto your diapers!

Such situations are also a prime opportunity to scan the cabin for left scraps. Like skuas, we searched for pancake remnants, but were unsuccessfull, except half an unfinished pancake I managed to scrounge up.


TERRY HUNNEFELD AND THE BAIRD'S BEAKED WHALES

We were graced with having a exuberant leader on the captain's stand, the amazing Terry Hunnefeld. He graced us with some inspiring words on the intercom, after viewing 36 Baird's Beaked Whales. "The North American coast population is estimated to be around 400 Baird's Beaked Whales, so we just saw about 10 percent of all the Baird's Beaked Whales in North America!...they typically remain submerged when they dive...A truly unforgettable experience, and one that I will remember, for the rest, of my life."

And we will.

THE AIR FORCE CAME

Occasionally, after hours of scanning the naked horizon, it is beneficial to relax in the cabin to avoid starting to spot birds that aren't really there. One such time, my conversation with Neil and Kenny was interrupted by a massive and violent noise screaming over the boat. We ran outside to see if we were under attack. It appeared we were. An F-18 had just done a low pass right over our boat, and was coming back. It headed toward us again, then banked steeply. Then it circled around the boat, pulled up, and flew straight up into the low clouds and off into the distance.

THE EXCREMENT OF THE WHALE

After an exceptionally long period of boredom, Steve Howell spotted a whale blow ahaid of us that "looked like a blue whale". He told Terry to tell the captain to steer our course left and head full throttle to try and intercept it. It was a mile away. There was little hope of accomplashing this, but we floated around the target region anyway. As we were about to give up...SPPPLLLUUUSSHHHH! BLUE WHALE! Then, a second whale spouted, and its extremely long back arched out of the water and it lifted its tailfin in the air as if to waive goodbye. Terry informed us on the intercom that a blue whale's heart is as big as a VW beetle.

We could not see the whales anymore, but we could see a large orange mass. "Is that krill" someone asked. So we got closer, and saw that it was an orange chunky raft with a sharp odor to it. There probably was some krill in there.

As the last albatross sailed into the sunset, so we started our overnight journey to shore. I reclined in my lawn chair until it was dark, reflecting on the awesome journey.



For a different take on things, click here:

http://ocbirding.blogspot.com/2010/08/two-seas.html

More to come in Part 2.

WHITNEY

"This may be the most badass thing I've ever done", said Nick, as we began our expedition to climb to the summit of the highest peak in the lower 48 states. A massive jagged rock whose top is at 14,496 feet, a feat not for the whimpy. Which is why it needed to be done.

THE FIRST STEPS TO GREATNESS
Mary let us borrow the Toyota beater truck for a last weekend, allowing us to go to Mineral King, and clearly telling us NOT to go to Mt. Whitney. "You don't have proper gear, you need a permit..." etc. Which is what everyone said. "There's a quota for the trail, you have to reserve months in advance!" said a certain professor. Well everyone can CHECK THIS OUT!

THE SUMMIT
August 12, 2010. 9:38 am. 10.7 miles, 6,000 ft. climbed.

A GLORIOUS DESCENT
21.4 miles complete, we finished at a leisurely 4:22 pm on day 2.





Moral of the story: when given a choice, climb the bigger mountain!

A Mountain Journey

So Mary says: "I gave you guys both 3 days off so you can borrow the rental and go on a trip somewhere". WAW!

Two bird dudes, 3 days, and a car. Unlimited freedom. A recipe for some epic birding.

But it was more than just birds which we seeked. Our whirlwind journey sought grizzly giants, crippling cascades and trees older than Christ. Lustrous coppers, mountain lupines, the gems of the mountains were within our reach.

The journey began after work. The plan was to get to the famous Wowona Meadow (famous amoung great gray owl enthusiasts), before dusk to try and find this rare phantom. Unfortunately, like bono gazing to the horizon among the joshua trees, I did not find what I was looking for. Simply, it is my arch-nemesis of all birds. Of course, one needs fresh quarry for the next adventure...

We stayed at the luxurious Wowona Hotel, conviently across the street so that at dawn we could look once more. (well actually, we car camped in the parking lot). Nick forgot to set his alarm...

After the fail, we decided to look for something requiring less strategy, the Gy-mungulus trees in the Mariposa Grove. Upon ariving, however, it was more than trees that we found. I heard a familiar tapping up the hill. Luckily the air was still because the tourists were still in a deep sleep. We followed the sound to a burned area and behold! A black-backed woodpecker. Many search for this rare carpenter of the Sierra. Many fail.

We soon discovered that we had entered not only the domain of the black backed, but a fortress of woodpeckers! There was:
1 Pileated
2 Flickers
2 Red-breasted sapsuckers
1 white-headed woodpecker
1 hairy woodpecker
1 black back

We walked like tiny ants through a forest of ancient giants. And holy mother, there it was. The Big Daddy of all trees: THE GRIZZLY GIANT.


Back at the parking lot, there were 50 cars! The tourists had woken up.

We spent the rest of the day in the Yosemite Valley, hicking many miles and visiting 5 jumbo waterfalls. Bridalveil falls was the first, which was saturated with tourists, some of them exceptionally stupid:

On to Vernal falls, then Nevada falls. We felt the strange presence of being near a black swift fortress, but despite our vigilance saw only the also awesome but less ranked white-throated swift.


The greatest falls required a very trudgy zig-zag up the side of the valley, from which we saw one of the tallest waterfalls in the US, the Upper Yosemite Falls and the more lowly Lower Yosemite falls. I practiced what I would exclaim if a black swift flew over when a very high black swift-like white-throated swift flew over.

More car camping in Tuolomine Meadows, still throngs of people. Cold! That was fine with me. We got up real early this time and had some excelent birding, including a female hermit warbler at 9000 feet!

Tioga pass is the east gate of Yosemite. I scoped out a real nice trail up to the land where only the hardiest tiny plants grow. First, 2 red crossbills flew over. Clarks Nutcrackers bellowed in the hills. The alpine meadows were full of great flowers, which had surprisingly few butterflies but some good ones, such as this beauty, a lustrous copper:



Up higher, it got rocky, and a squeak caught my attention. I found the originator, a Pika! Pikas are are actually a type of rabbit, sort of.

A little higher, I spotted 2 rosy finches flying in the distance with their distinctively strange calls. Then all of the sudden, about 20 flew in and started feeding on the ground in front of us!

We reached the crest of the ridge, which was quite high (11-12000 feet or something). There were very few birds up there, except a prairie falcon whiched zipped over the ridge.

The way back down had more of the same stuff, an icy stream drink, ~50 more rosy finches and the sounds of a Blue Grouse.

Heading down the mountain, I found this real beauty but have no idea what it is?

We have reached the sagebrush, a very neat habitat that sort of gets boring quickly. Destination: Mono Lake. Mono is a terminal basin for several mountain streams, so it has become super salty and alkaline. The water feels quite weird. The shorebirding was very disapointing here (killdeer and wilson's phalarope), so we didn't spend much time. We did drive around the sage and picked up brewer's sparrow (it was touch explaining to nick that it has NO field marks, he couldn't understand that), sage sparrows, and Sage Thrashers (lifer!). More than could be shaked at with a stick. The next stage of our journey was to be the most anticipated segment yet.

The ultimate target for this trip was Greater Sage-Grouse. Really hard to find other than in March when they're lekking (displaying on traditional displaying grounds). So basically they're just walking around somewhere in here:

Many advised not to bother looking for Sage Grouse. They're just too hard to find, they said. That didn't stop us. My strategy was to drive a lap around Crowley Lake in the evening, since this area is well known for its sage grouse (ebird, birds of California). Then, if we didn't get 'em, which I really didn't think we would, get up really early and do the lap again. We did not find them that evening, although 50 common nighthawks were amazing. Nick really wanted to sleep in a campground for some reason so I let him at least try to find one that was not full, which was impossible plus way too expensive (20 bucks!), so we wasted some gas and then went with my original desire of sleeping in the sage beneath the stars. While Nick stayed in the pseudo-protective coccoon that is the tent, I fell asleep to some world-class stargazing. When I woke up, it was freezing. We slugged ourselves out at 510 and started slowly driving around the lake. It was that magical time, that calm time at the break of dawn when you feel like anything could be just walking out on the road, like these:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To the White Mountains! The final stage of our journey: to enter the most ancient forest in the world, the bristlecone pine forest. The trees there have growth rings only a fraction of a milimeter thick. They grow in a place thats at about 10-11000 feet, and get maybe 5 inches of rain per year. They are REALLY old. One is about 4800 years old actually, and many are older than Christ.
We headed out of the sage and into the Pinyon-Juniper forest. We found some neat White mountain specialities like Juniper Titmouse, Pinyon Jay and Plumbeous Vireo. While driving I spotted a soaring raptor. It was a beefy adult goshawk! We pulled over and watched in amazement as it circled over us.

The ancient pine forest was one of the most strange and awesome places I've ever been. It was just amazing, my life is a tiny blink of an eye compared to these geezers.

The birding wasn't bad, either. Lots of gray flycatchers, pygmy nuthatches, mountain bluebirds and a ruby-crowned kinglet.

So we birded back down the mountain and our journey faded to a satisfying end. Some birds we didn't see. Some we did. The trip complete, I can now say that even without the skills of Neil or Matt, this trip was well executed. 110 species and 2 lifers, plus Pika (an honorary bird).

Next time, for our final voyage, Neil and I will be sailing to mysterious waters in search of deep-sea wanderers from the distant reaches of the Pacific. Cook's Petrel, prepare to be destroyed.

Trip list: 110 species
Yosemite/white mountains Aug 3-6
1. Great egret
2. Great blue heron
3. Cattle egret
4. Canada goose
5. Mallard
6. Cinnamon teal
7. Turkey vulture
8. Osprey
9. Cooper’s hawk
10. NORTHERN GOSHAWK
11. Red-tailed hawk
12. American kestrel
13. PRAIRIE FALCON
14. California quail
15. GREATER SAGE-GROUSE
16. SOOTY GROUSE
17. American coot
18. Killdeer
19. American avocet
20. Spotted sandpiper
21. Wilson’s phalarope
22. California gull
23. Caspian tern
24. Mourning dove
25. Eurasian collared dove
26. Rock pigeon
27. Band-tailed pigeon
28. Great horned owl
29. Burrowing owl
30. Common nighthawk
31. White-throated swift
32. Rufous hummingbird
33. Anna’s hummingbird
34. Hairy woodpecker
35. White-headed woodpecker
36. BLACK-BACKED WOODPECKER
37. Red-breasted sapsucker
38. Northern flicker
39. Pileated woodpecker
40. Western wood-pewee
41. Willow flycatcher
42. Dusky flycatcher
43. Gray flycatcher
44. "Western" flycatcher
45. Ash-throated flycatcher
46. Loggerhead shrike
47. PLUMBEOUS VIREO
48. Western scrub-jay
49. PINYON JAY
50. Clark’s nutcracker
51. American crow
52. Common raven
53. Steller’s jay
54. Horned lark
55. Tree swallow
56. Violet-green swallow
57. Cliff swallow
58. JUNIPER TITMOUSE
59. Mountain chickadee
60. Bushtit
61. White-breasted nuthatch
62. Red-breasted nuthatch
63. Pygmy nuthatch
64. Brown creeper
65. House wren
66. Canyon wren
67. Rock wren
68. Ruby-crowned kinglet
69. American dipper
70. Golden-crowned kinglet
71. Mountain bluebird
72. American robin
73. Townsend’s solitaire
74. Hermit thrush
75. Northern mockingbird
76. Sage thrasher
77. European starling
78. Orange-crowned warbler
79. Macgillivray’s warbler
80. Yellow warbler
81. HERMIT WARBLER
82. Black-throated gray warbler
83. Yellow-rumped warbler
84. Western tanager
85. Lazuli bunting
86. Black-headed grosbeak
87. Spotted towhee
88. Green-tailed towhee
89. Chipping sparrow
90. Brewer’s sparrow
91. Sage sparrow
92. Savannah sparrow
93. Fox sparrow
94. Song sparrow
95. Lincoln’s sparrow
96. Dark-eyed junco
97. White-crowned sparrow
98. Bullock’s oriole
99. Western meadowlark
100. Yellow-headed blackbird
101. Red-winged blackbird
102. Brewer’s blackbird
103. Brown-headed cowbird
104. GRAY-CROWNED ROSY-FINCH
105. Red crossbill
106. Cassin’s finch
107. House finch
108. Lesser goldfinch
109. Pine siskin
110. House sparrow

The Kern Preserve

The Kern preserve is where I work. Except I don't have any pictures of work, since they wouldn't be all that exciting. Picture me blundering through a jungle of stinking nettle and impregnable bracken with a wood-chete, in 1 metre of water. Memories I would not intentionaly relish unless to brighten a less gloomy circumstance in a comparative fashion. Therefore, this space will be dedicated to kickass wildlife sightings while working.

First, a long tailed weasel, the only time I've ever found one.

A bobcat

Vermillion flycatcher


One time, me and Nick were in the yard at night looking at the barn owls, and this bird flushed from a bush. Then it got stuck in the courtyard, and tried to escape by going through the sliding door, which was closed, unfortunately for it. It was a fledged Kestrel.


This other time, there was a huge red snake in the yard with half its body down a hole, so I went up and grabbed it and pulled it out. It was a coachwhip! This was really fortunate because normally these are almost impossible to catch (plus they bite like mothers). Turned out it was hunting lizards on our bricks, which it happened to be the same colour as. Earlier there was also a jumbo rattlesnake in the yard, which I could not wrangle since there was no stick, still no pictures of one!



Once I saw this coyote, so I hid in the grass and made some squeaky noises.

Then, it sprinted to me so it could taste me, but then I made it run away.

Barn owls average once per day

A shrike flew into our cowbird trap

It left a bloody stump in its path