Natural History Journal

I often mention that owls are perhaps my most favorite group of birds.  They are beautiful, powerful and mysterious; every encounter with one of these magnificent creatures evokes a sense of awe and wonder. North America boasts an impressive 19 species of owl, all of which can be found in the Western United States.  Over a dozen species (15-ish, to be more accurate) are found in California alone. That number is a little vague due to owls' nocturnal habits and many species' preference for remote habitats.  For example, biologists suspect there may be Boreal Owls wintering deep in the remote montane forests of Northern California and the Sierra Nevada, where snowfall is heavy, roads or even trails are few and far between, and humans rarely venture.  And desert-dwelling Elf Owls may or may not be still clinging to survival in dwindling habitat along the Colorado River. While some species are rarely seen, others are quite common.  Though populations of Spotted Owl, Great Gray

I'm a little late to the birding party in terms of getting this post written, as my geology professor and fellow nature blogger, Garry Hayes, beat me to it with  his article over at Geotripper's California Birds.   But I want in on some of the birding excitement too, so bear with me! A Sage Thrasher is quite a rare find here in the Central Valley; before this bird, there have only been about a dozen sightings in Stanislaus County.  This individual was first spotted on the campus of Stanislaus State University almost two weeks ago by none other than my own father!  (I take full credit for getting him involved in birding, by the way!) While out on one of his regular walks around the campus, he noticed a new bird along the  Trans-California Pathway , a walking trail that meanders a few hundred yards along a man-made creek through vegetation representative of the plant communities found as one travels east and up in elevation from the valley floor into the Sierra Nevada. I

Significantly more common and widespread than Sunday's Surfbird , Brewer's Blackbirds are familiar to many across the western United States as "parking lot birds," often encountered in close proximity to humans as they shamelessly seek handouts. These Brewer's Blackbirds were hanging out around the parking areas (and picnickers) at Point Pinos in Monterey last weekend.  But I was happy to see that the whole flock actively engaged in catching flying insects (namely, the flies that so adore piles of beach wrack) rather than feeding on crumbs and garbage left behind by careless tourists. Members of the blackbird family (Icteridae), Brewer's Blackbirds are closely related to orioles, grackles and meadowlarks.  Like some other members of their family, they are gregarious and social birds, nesting in colonies of up to one hundred birds.  They typically nest in trees and shrubs near water, but may also nest in reeds or cattails, tree cavities, and even on t

Yesterday, Eric and I spent the day in Monterey with some friends, browsing used book stores, taking in the historic sites and, of course, exploring the tide pools and the rocky shoreline around Point Pinos.  The area affectionately known as The Great Tide Pool, made famous by the research, collections and publications of Edward Ricketts, is not only one of my favorite places to peer into tide pools, but also to bird, particularly with an eye for the birds of the rocky shore, like turnstones, oystercatchers and the appropriately-named Surfbird ( Calidris virgata ). Surfbirds are stocky migratory sandpipers, closely related to other familiar shorebirds  such as sanderlings , dunlin, and least and western sandpipers.  Surfbirds are relatively common along California's rocky shores during migration and winter, from late summer through late spring.  They are almost always found within the splash zone, just out of reach of the pounding waves and foaming sea spray.  Only during the

The rain is falling, the wind is blowing, and on a day like today, I am (for once) content to be indoors.  The storm is doing a number on the autumn leaves, which are fluttering wildly down from trees to lay in thick tapestries of color on the wet earth.  We've had several weeks of glorious color, trees ablaze in crimson and gold, and I have happily followed the progression of autumn from the golden quaking aspens of the high Sierra, through the magical scarlet dogwoods of mid-elevations, all the way down to the mellow-hued riparian willows and riotous colors of introduced ornamental trees which grace neighborhoods of the Central Valley. But now, with Thanksgiving leftovers [hopefully] gone and sodden leaves blanketing the ground to become next year's mulch, it's time to turn our attention to the winter season and all it entails: sparkling snow in the Sierra, mysterious tule fog in the Valley, stalwart conifers and their intricately beautiful cones, resplendent red berrie

The light was fading, the temperature dropping, and the visitor center restrooms were closed at the very worst time restrooms could be closed.  We had been in the car for quite some time, and I had been counting on these restrooms. My traveling companions were in no hurry to leave the breathtaking Mono Lake overlook and Mono Basin National Forest Scenic Area Visitor Center  (the official, lengthy title), despite its unfortunate and very definite status as "closed."  I, on the other hand, had been there before.  Restlessly I told myself I'd seen all the sights, read all the signs, etc. etc., and was impatient as only a woman in dire need of a restroom can be.  My husband kindly scoured the map for an alternative stopping place, and eventually our group piled back into the car.  Shifting into drive, I hurriedly left the deserted parking area, bound for relief elsewhere. It was at that moment, leaving the visitor center parking lot on an otherwise empty road through Grea

Fall is not exactly peak wildflower season.  Most of us have our hopes set on brilliant fall foliage this time of year, while simultaneously peering beyond to the hints of a wintery wonderland and snowy pines just on the horizon.  But California's seasons are unique, due to its Mediterranean climate, and even during this quiet season of senescence, a few flowers are still blooming along the coast. Seaside daisy ( Erigeron glaucus ), pictured above and below, is a hardy perennial at home on the dunes and cliffs up and down California's rugged coast.  These beautiful little daisies are also excellent plants for a low-water native garden, and are commonly available at nurseries that sell native plants. Coastal weather in the fall is often sunny and clear - ideal for strolling along the winding pathways that lead from Monterey, around Point Pinos and south to Asilomar State Beach.  This two or three mile stretch is just about one of my favorite walks anywhere! Pictur

Autumn might just be my favorite season in the Sierra Nevada. Maybe. Gone are summer's long, lazy days of exploring creeks in cutoffs and swimming in mountain lakes. But I'll make the exchange, for golden leaves swirling on the breeze and crunching underfoot, chilly nights with starry skies, cozy flannel shirts and woolly mittens holding warm beverages around the campfire... We spent last weekend on the Eastern side of the Sierra, taking in the sights and reveling in the beauty of the season. And I can safely say, fall is in full swing: now is the time to get out and see the fall colors! California is known as the golden state for the obvious reason: gold was discovered here, triggering a booming gold rush during the mid-to-late 1800's. But I'd like to add a few more of my own reasons for the nickname. In spring, golden carpets of wildflowers spread across hills and valleys in varying hues: California poppies, goldfields, tidytips and their yellow compo