The Signature of All Things

There have been some great bird sightings on the island lately - unfortunately most of them have not been mine! The best of the bunch is a long-eared owl that has been seen at least twice near False Bay Creek, where I do monthly bird surveys. Unfortunately numerous visits out there both during the day and at night have not turned up any owls for me, though I have seen other neat species such as western meadowlarks and a northern shrike.

Flooded pasture along False Bay Creek

Lots of Canada geese, but no long-eared owl at False Bay Creek

I did see an American kestrel (144) one afternoon as I drove home from work, which was a nice find as it's an uncommon species here on the island. It's amazing how many species were in the first 50 on my year list the last bunch of years but aren't even on my list yet, simply because all my Pacific Northwest birding this year has been exclusively in the San Juan Islands. As a result, I still don't have black-capped chickadee on my list this year!!

This afternoon I went out for a one hour walk at English Camp, hoping to find a rufous hummingbird or some other early spring migrant. Not only did I fail to find a hummingbird, I hardly saw any birds at all! Excepting the 75 bufflehead and 25 surf scoters out in the bay, I only saw/heard 40 other birds - not species, birds! It may sound like a lot to non-birders, but when you're hiking well over a mile they are few and far between. Since an hour's birding only turned up 16 species, I started turning my attention to other things, because even when the birds are scarce there's always something to investigate! This time, in part because of the book I just finished reading, I noticed there were mosses everywhere!

The book in question is The Signature of All Things, a novel by Elizabeth Gilbert (of Eat, Pray, Love fame). Set primarily in the 19th century, it follows the life of Alma Whittaker, the daughter of a famous botanist. She follows in the footsteps of her father, becoming a plant expert, and in the early part of her life is able to study specimens from all over the world in her father's gardens and greenhouses. While part of her wants to travel the world and see all the amazing trees and orchids she has grown to love in their native habitats, circumstances dictate that she is confined to her family's estate in Pennsylvania. Frustrated, she feels like she already knows every tree and flower on thier property from her childhood explorations, when she makes an interesting discovery on a boulder she has passed thousands of times.

Alma put the magnifying lens to her eye and looked again. Now the miniature forest below her gaze sprang into majestic detail. She felt her breath catch. This was a stupefying kingdom. This was the Amazon jungle as seen from the back of a harpy eagle. She rode her eye above the surprising landscape, following its paths in every direction. Here were rich, abundant valleys filled with tiny trees of braided mermaid hair and minuscule, tangled vines. Here were barely visible tributaries running through that jungle, and here was a miniature ocean in a depression at the center of the boulder, where all the water pooled.

Just across this ocean - which was half the size of Alma's shawl - she found another continent of moss altogether. On this new continent, everything was different. This corner of the boulder must receive more sunlight than the other, she surmised. Or slightly less rain? In any case, this was a new climate entirely. Here, the moss grew in mountain rangers the length of Alma's arms, in elegant, pine tree-shaped clusters of darker, more somber green. On another quadrant of the same boulder still, she found patches of infinitesimally small deserts, inhabited by some kind of study, dry, flaking moss that had the appearance of cactus. Elsewhere, she found deep, diminutive fjords - so deep that, incredibly, even now in the month of June - the mosses within were still chilled by lingering traces of winter ice. But she also found warm estuaries, miniature cathedrals, and limestone caves the size of her thumb.

Then Alma lifted her face and saw what was before her - dozens more such boulders, more than she could count, each one similarly carpeted, each one subtly different. She felt herself growing breathless. This was the entire world. This was bigger than a world. This was the firmament of the universe, as seen through one of William Herschel's mighty telescopes. This was planetary and vast. These were ancient, unexplored galaxies, rolling forth in front of her - and it was all right here!

In the book, Alma goes on to study the stories that play out in the world of mosses. That may sound like a boring task, but only when you are caught up in the fast, loud pace of day-to-day human life. In the moss world, things move much more slowly, but are no less dramatic. There are wars waged over prime territories, and she documents their advancements and retreats. There are clear winners and losers, which leads Alma to begin wondering why certain species are successful, why others are not, and what causes some mosses to succeed where others fail. Mosses, after all, are an amazingly diverse and hardy lot. They can thrive in areas where nothing else can even begin to grow, as we can still see today wherever we look:

Mosses can make a living where other plants can't - such as on wood, stone, or nowadays, pavement

As she continues her life as a bryologist, Alma does eventually get the chance to travel beyond Pennsylvania, and in the process meets an interesting cast of characters. While she wants to explain everything in terms of science, she meets others - such as artists and missionaries - that are convinced that not all the amazing things we witness can be measured and that some of the most compelling discoveries come when we leave the world of science behind.

The book is a captivating one from start to finish, as Alma is a naturalist who lives at a time when the worlds of science and religion are both starting to change drastically, and it's all due to looking carefully at the world right beneath our feet.

The Migrants Have Arrived

Friday after work I went down to Eagle Cove since a MacGillivray's warbler was reported there a day before. There are so many great places to visit on the island, and for some reason Eagle Cove isn't one I go to all that often. Perhaps that's because in the summer it gets pretty crowded as one of the island's only sandy beaches; it's a popular sun-bathing spot and the shallow, protected waters also make swimming an attractive option, too. On this day there were a few other people there when I arrived, but they all left before I did, and for a while I had this amazing little cove to myself on a beautiful sunny, warm day. For a while I sat in the grass above the beach, where I took this panorama shot (click for a larger view - it's worth it):

The tide was pretty far out, so the tidepooling was excellent. In several places the pools looked almost like ant colonies there was so much bustling activity made up mostly of hermit crabs but also including fish and shrimp. There were lots of mussels, barnacles, and snails as well as a few anemone colonies. In one spot I found a lot of limpets, and these two had their "feet" extended instead of being sucked down onto the rock like I usually see them.

I wasn't able to relocate the MacGillivray's warbler, but there was a decent amount of bird activity in the tunnel-like deciduous woody area on the way down to the beach. Pine siskins and American goldfinches were calling from the upper branches. A gang of northwestern crows was upset about something. In the parking area I was surprised when this Bewick's wren flew out of the bushes and landed on the wheel of my car. It seemed really interested in it or the tire as it spent several minutes hopping around it.

There wasn't a lot of bird activity on the water other than a large flock of gulls. I did see a few surf scoters, a common loon, and a single harlequin duck. There may have been more out in the distance bu the back-lighting made it especially hard to see.

In addition to birds, sunshine, and tidepools, there was a nice variety of wildflowers to see. This one caught my eye in part because I didn't recognize it, but then I found a sign explaining it's a highly invasive species called yellow archangel (Lamiastrum galeobdulon), and they were discouraging people from taking it and helping it spread around the island.

Today after visiting the local farmer's market I headed out to English Camp where there is a particular stretch of trail that every year seems to turn up lots of year birds for me in early May:

Today was no exception. In a few minutes I added black-throated gray warbler (151), house wren (152), and Pacific-slope flycatcher (153) to my year list, and later on my walk I heard my first Wilson's warblers (154) of the year as well. The only one missing that I got here last year was a western tanager. In addition to these new arrivals, I heard and saw orange-crowned warblers, rufous hummingbirds, Cassin's vireos, red-breasted nuthatches, brown creepers, pine siskins, and more. It was awesome to just stand there and listen to it all!

I walked partway up Mt. Young and into the open fields on the south side where a trail leads into a Garry oak meadow:

While I saw some spotted coralroot blooming in the woods, there was manroot in blossom all over the place out here:

The bird life changed from the more woodland species to a variety of purple finches, American goldfinches, violet-green swallows, turkey vultures, and white-crowned sparrows. I caught this white-crowned sparrow just as he took flight:

I looped back down to towards the lower part of English Camp in part to check on the opsrey nest, which is dutifully being rebuilt after being blown down again over the winter. Down at the parade grounds there were the usual Canada geese, a trio of black oystercatchers, two pairs of starlings already feeding young in the eaves of one of the old buildings, and still 15 or so bufflehead out in the bay. I walked back up the officer's quarters trail and turned around to take in this stunning view looking back down on the parade grounds:

As warm as it's been in the last two days (I haven't had to put on a jacket or sweatshirt once!), it's supposed to be even warmer tomorrow and I'm sure there will be more time spent outside. Here's hoping I find some more birds among the newly arrived summer residents, and oh yeah, it would be great if those orcas would show up soon, too!

Anticipating Spring

As the calendar turned to March, and the days get noticeably longer, I find I'm more than ready for some of the things I associate with spring on San Juan Island: a little more sunshine, wildflowers, and spring migrants. I was all ready to go on the first Saturday in March, but unfortunately woke up to drizzly weather that stayed all day. Not to be entirely deterred, I went out and walked around Three Meadows Marsh and did some birding in the rain.

When taking a first glance at the marsh, there weren't many (or any) bird in sight. Closer scanning with the binoculars and a walk all the way round turned up a respectable 10 species of waterfowl. The highlight of the walk, however, was hearing two or three different Virginia rails. Also heard were both marsh and Pacific wrens and a lot of red crossbills. The species total for the one hour walk was 24.

Sunday was much more what I hoped for weather-wise: sunshine! It was windy and chilly, but that didn't matter as much. I could just feel myself beginning to recover from the winter-long vitamin D deficiency as I walked along the bluffs at Cattle Point. If I just looked at the scene in front of me and ignored my partially frozen ears and fingers, I could imagine this being a tropical beach below me:

That daydream only kept me warm for a few minutes, though, so I headed to the other side of the dunes to get more out of the wind. On the windy side the only notable sighting was five bald eagles (one adult, four immature) playing in the wind. Two of the immature eagles were chasing each other around at top speed, which was awesome to watch. There were a wider variety of birds to be seen on out of the wind, however. In the trees I found a pair of mourning doves - still an uncommon species on San Juan Island, though I seem to be finding them more regularly here:

In the same clump of trees I found a small flock of bushtits (year bird 117) and hear a pair of Bewick's wrens (118) singing. A few minutes later, while scanning the channel, I got my first definitive look at a Brandt's cormorant (119) this year. I'm sure I've seen them during my other visits to Cattle Point, but they're usually too far out in the channel to see any field marks, instead ending up on my day list as "cormorant species". The species total for this outing was again 24.

During the week I didn't have a chance to get out much, but one day this very pale, scraggly looking great blue heron came for a visit right off the front porch:

It was kind of a gray week, but today, Friday, the sun came back out so this afternoon after work I went for another walk at English Camp. I was particularly hopeful to add at least one spring migrant to my year list, but alas there were no osprey building a nest, warblers singing in the treetops, or swallows cartwheeling over the bay. Patience, patience - they'll be here soon! It was a beautiful walk regardless.

 There's enough different on my new camera that I still feel like I've got a lot to learn, so I played around with a few different things while aiming my lens at some of the more common species that I admittedly sometimes take for granted and don't photograph at all.

While standing at Bell Point watching five black oystercatchers in flight over the bay, I realized the Douglas fir I was standing under seemed to be crackling. Right over and around me was a small flock of red crossbills feeding on seeds out of the cones, seemingly unbothered by my near presence. Despite being so close to them, I couldn't get a very clear look at them. This is about the most of any bird that I saw - see the crossbill?

 

Crossbills seem to be really abundant on the island right now. They're often hard to get a good look at, but if you are familiar with their call, you can hear them everywhere. They were just one of the 26 species I saw at English Camp this afternoon.

The red-flowering currants were in bud, which means the rufous hummingbirds should be here any time now. This shot in particular reminded me that even though I'm ready for it to be here NOW, spring is indeed on the way:

Leading Lines at English Camp

I've been meaning to mention on my blog that I'm working on a 365 Project this year, where I'm taking a picture every day. While my blog usually focuses on birds, whales, and other things in the natural world, I'm aiming to improve my all-around photography by taking pictures of all sorts of subjects. My dad is also doing a 365 Project, and we're coming up with themes for certain weeks to help inspire us to look at things differently. This week's theme, chosen by my dad, was leading lines - strong lines in a photo's composition that help guide the viewer's eye through the image. (You can see my whole 365 project here, and my dad's here - click on the button that looks like a grid of squares between "previous" and "next" to see a calendar view.)

I made leading lines that theme of my photo walk through British Camp this afternoon, and it certainly succeeded in getting me to look at things differently! The walk I've done dozens of times took twice as long as normal as I stopped to take pictures of all sorts of "lines" I've never really noticed before. Here are some of the results:

Of course I wasn't just taking pictures of lines - I was also looking at birds! Highlights were hearing a pileated woodpecker (106) and then seeing a Townsend's solitaire (107). The solitaire wasn't only a year bird, but a new species for me in San Juan County! He's pretty camouflaged, but here he is:

Awesome Osprey

Earlier this week I was enthralled by the osprey at British Camp. A breeding pair returns every summer, and this season it looks like they fledged two chicks as we saw four birds in total. They were all calling to each other, intermittently flying around and perching in the trees. Although we didn't see them actively catching fish, I saw birds carrying fish in flight and one eating a fish while perched right below the nest.

This bird for some reason dropped a large headless fish back into the water, then circled around and landed in a snag right next to me:

I think that's the closest I've ever been to an osprey!

I need to note a few updates to the year list, too - last weekend I saw a merlin (192) at Jackson Beach, and then at British Camp I saw a Hutton's vireo (193). With a little luck, I'll be able to reach my goal of 200 species for the year! Some other highlights from our hike at British Camp included a pileated woodpecker and 30+ double-crested cormorants.

It wasn't just birds at British Camp, however - we also came across a mama deer with a curious fawn:

Spring Migrants Arrive in Force

I had an amazing moment yesterday at British Camp where I just stood in one section of the trail for about 10 minutes and saw/heard more than 15 bird species. There were downy, hairy, and pileated woodpeckers. Warbling vireos, rufous hummingbirds, orange-crowned warblers, Townsend's warblers, and black-throated gray warblers. I've come across pockets of birds before - they're always exciting to see - but what made this especially amazing was that I also got three year birds there, all newly arrived spring migrants. The Pacific-slope flycatchers (172) were singing, and I saw one pair chasing each other around a tree. A western tanager (173) sat amid the blossoms of one tree, while a Cassin's vireo (174) sang its questioning song from the brush. It was awesome.

Pacific-slope flycatcher ~ Prints of this photo available here

A little further up the trail I found both Pacific and house wrens, more vireos and warblers, and chestnut-backed chickadees, dark-eyed juncos, and white-crowned sparrows. I also saw a single chipping sparrow (175), my fourth year bird of the day.

Their nest blew down over the winter, but the resident pair of osprey at British Camp returned and rebuilt it, and when I went by one of them was sitting on the nest (you can just see its head in the middle). I saw the second one fly in with a fish a little later on.

Golden-crowned sparrows are only winter residents here on the island, but there sure still seems to be a lot of them around, including this one, who blends in amazingly well to the tree bark except for his yellow forehead:

I ended up finding 33 species during my hour at British Camp - not bad!

Next up, I'll be turning my attention (and my camera lens) towards wildflowers - I hope the weather cooperates!

Celebrating the Small at British Camp

Yesterday I took advantage of a break in the rain showers to take a hike at British Camp. It turned out that everything that caught my eye was little:

Snail shell

First Calypso orchid of the season

Mushroom catching a ray of sunlight alongside the path

Blooming red flowering currant, which I'm sure is attracting lots of the rufous hummingbirds that are still eluding me

Then at the end of the day, I had a great visit with composer and fellow blogger Alex Shapiro, who has a studio on an amazing property at the north end of the island. Just as I was getting ready to leave, the sun came out from behind the clouds once more in this stunning prelude to the sunset:

Rainy Walk at British Camp

It's been a hibernation kind of week. We've had a variety of weather, though - it's gray and misty and windy out right now, but I've tried to get outside a bit during the chilly sun breaks. During one such afternoon I decided to go for a walk at British Camp, where I hadn't been for a while. The sun was shining on my drive there, but was starting to disappear behind the clouds when I started my walk.

As I approached the Park I saw a pileated woodpecker - very cool! There was a nice mixed flock of birds near the parking lot as there often is: chestnut-backed chickadees, golden-crowned kinglets, red-breasted nuthatches, and brown creepers - all the usual suspects. Garrison Bay was pretty empty. The resident Canada geese were no where in sight, and I didn't see any ducks, scoters, mergansers, or bufflehead like I was hoping.

When I entered the woods on the Bell Point Loop trail there was a little flurry of activity. It turned out to be a large group  American robins, spotted towhees, and varied thrushes. They were spread from the depths of the bushes (towhees) to the tops of the trees (varied thrushes) and it was a congregation of thrushes unlike any I have ever seen before. Pretty cool!

As I moved on I apparently walked right into a storm cell, as I found myself in the middle of a torrential downpour. That hushed up any bird activity and also made it too dark to take many pictures. The only ones I snapped were of this patch of black elfin saddle mushrooms:

By the time I got back to the car after completing the loop hike I was drenched. Of course I drove a mile down the road towards home and the pavement was dry, so I picked the perfect time and place for my hike. Ah well! While it's not the best for birding or photographing, there's something to be said about being out in the woods by yourself during a rain shower. I still felt rejuvenated when I got home.

Mushrooms at British Camp

I am just reveling in this early October sunshine we've been having; I know it won't be long until we return to the wet grayness that is normally associated with a Pacific Northwest autumn! Looking out the window it could almost pass for summer out there with the bright blue skies, but if you look closer there are signs of fall everywhere. The leaves are beginning to change and drop off the trees. The sun is setting much earlier. Many of our small woodland birds are starting to hang out in large mixed flocks rather than in their spring and summer nesting pairs. And down on the ground, all sorts of fall mushrooms are beginning to emerge.

Here are a selection of the species I saw on a hike yesterday at British Camp. I haven't had time to sit down with the field guide yet so they remain unknown to me, but maybe one of you will recognize what type of mushroom some of these are. If you do, please leave a comment!

Mixed Flock at British Camp

This afternoon I took a hike at British Camp to see what sort of bird activity was going on there. There was surprisingly little activity on the water - the regular gathering of double-crested cormorants hanging out on the pilings across the bay and a few unidentified gulls, and that was it. The woods, however, were much busier, and I came across a large mixed flock of birds. I knew they were there because I heard them up in the treetops, but the first one to come down and check me out was this golden-crowned kinglet:

The kinglets seemed to make up the majority of the flock, but I also saw the expected chestnut-backed chickadees and red-breasted nuthatches. I was looking for any ruby-crowned kinglets that might be mixed in when a ruby-crowned kinglet look-alike popped into view: a Hutton's vireo. These guys look very similar to the ruby-crowned kinglet, but have a much stouter beak (compare to the golden-crowned kinglet's beak above) and also lack the black behind the second wing bar.

There was one other species I thought was likely to be in this flock, and sure enough just before I moved on I saw three or four brown creepers. They can be difficult to photograph, but this one was quite obliging for a moment, allowing me to get this photograph:

I heard a few spotted towhees and a northern flicker, and saw an American goldfinch in the parking lot as I was leaving, but that little hotspot was definitely the highlight of my birding walk.