So much to do!

Download photos, convert photos, post photos, apply to UH, apply to [other schools], apply for an internship at Hawk Mountain, print HMS application, contact potential graduate advisors, mail letter, get car checked out, bake cookies, get xmas gifts, go shelling, eradicate no-see-ums.

I biked to work this morning and then back (of course). It took me about 35 minutes, at least I think. I'm not sure exactly what time I left. I'm exhausted. As I biked, even though I was moving and creating a breeze, the no-see-ums found me. I was bitten 5 times before I made it. But imagine if I had been walking! Augh!

I really like this job. I've been doing a lot of creating or editing publications and outreach materials. I also like the interpretation part, though I haven't gotten much into that yet. Programs start Jan 1, and I'll be giving a 30 min program called "Basic Birding Skills" and also giving a tour at the Bailey Tract, a freshwater canal area.

I guess I also feel very busy because I'm dealing with applying to schools and grants and internships, and when I get home after a long day, I still have some stuff to do on the computer. But, I've been doing a little bit each day this week, and it's getting done.

Sanibel

After arriving in Fort Meyers, Toni (my new supervisor) picked me up and drove me back to Sanibel. On the ride I saw some Wood Storks (WOSTs?). Ty's house is great, it reminds me of the old Waimanalo house I grew up in, with some dust in the window sills, and ants running around fairly unobtrusively, lizards skittering around in the sand outside. Of course the Spoonbills, White Ibises and Anhingas in the yard make me look twice.

I have found the library here on Sanibel, and I think I will be spending lots of time here in the next few weeks while I sort out graduate options and email with potential advisors. I recently was contacted by a UH professor, which has switched around my preferences and left me confused as to what I want to do.

Yesterday on my bike ride home from the library, I saw a young Bald Eagle overhead, then nearly collided with a cattle egret, then saw a Cooper's Hawk circling over Ty's neighborhood, and glanced into the mangroves to notice two Spoonbills dabbling about in the mangrove muck. On my run down to the bay, there was a Great Blue Heron and a Little Blue Heron patrolling the tide line with some fishermen. The Brown Pelicans and some kind of tern surfed the air currents and dove into the ocean for fish.

Ty and Jan come today, it will be fun to explore around with them.

Bird Walk for the Soul

I've been working too hard. Teaching kids can really take it out of you. And on top of it all, I'm working on the Sharpie paper and trying to get into grad school. Graduate school seems to be inordinately difficult to get accepted to. And I hear similar things from people in different fields.

Anyway, I realized this morning that I didn't want to go and work on my computer at all. If I was going to do anything today, I decided, I was going to take a bird walk. I've been having all the symptoms of bird withdrawal: obsessively wearing my binoculars indoors, looking up bird species on Wikipedia when I should be working, and staring wistfully out of windows. So, I strapped on the bins and tucked the Sibley into my pocket and headed for the good birding trail.

The Eider Ducks greeted me when I got down to the water. I was soon soothed by their presence. On my walk I ended up seeing many species I hadn't seen before here. Here's my day's bird list:

Common Eider, Common Raven, Song Sparrow, Nelson's Sharp-tailed Sparrow*, Gray Catbird*, Black-capped Chickadee, Yellow-rumped Warbler, Ruby-crowned Kinglet, Golden-crowned Kinglet, Herring Gull, Pine Siskin, White-crowned Sparrow, Brown Creeper, Peregrine Falcon, Black-backed Woodpecker*, Ruffed Grouse, Mallard, and Slate-colored Junco.
* Lifers

Also had interesting encounters with some of the above species. The catbirds were meowing at me imperatively. The chickadees were foraging in the leaves, for all the world like a bunch of towhees except they were gleaning their insects along the ground, not kicking up the leaves. The grouse and I both apparently scared the bejeezus out of each other. It was a fun bird day, and they all gave me back my motivation.

Owl Prowl

Our night hikes are one of my favorite activities to do with the kids. It's a challenge to keep them quiet and from running amok in the dark. I've found that laying down the law early on gets them focused and makes the whole group have a better time.

Last night we went through the typical night hike activities, using our senses and exploring the adaptations of nocturnal and crepuscular animals. My group did hear some GHOWs contact-calling around the field area. At the end of the night, we usually bring all the groups back to the ball field to lay down and watch the stars. Last night it was pretty cloudy and the stars were hidden. So, Rachel started talking about the dark sky initiative, and how it's important to prevent light pollution. I heard the GHOWs in the distance and suggested we could all be quiet and listen. I love how, even though they've been noisy and a bit unruly all day, when there is something to listen for, everyone hushes up. We heard the calls a couple times. I was describing why animals use contact calls ("here I am, where are you?"), as opposed to the hoots heard during the breeding season. Then I mentioned it sounded like the calls were getting closer, and closer. The owls then flew right over our group. There were at least 3 of them, a little flock. I'm not sure what was going on, but there were at least 3 shadowy shapes. All of a sudden, one of them flared up and caught some light from a street light further down the street. The beautiful white & tawny pattern of an owl's ventral side was illuminated for a brief instant. Then, they flew over the ball field and we heard their shrieking diminish. I'm now known as the owl whisperer.

The kids were astounded. There was some excited discussion, but no one was shouting, no one was being obnoxious. I got up and told them how incredibly lucky they were. Not only has that not happened to any school groups before them, but most people in the whole world never get to see that. I told them to take the image they saw remember it for the rest of their lives. One kid said he felt chills run down his spine. I was feeling some chicken skin too, it was such a powerful moment, and one we had all shared. I suggested we thank the owls, and they all said "Thank you owls" out into the night.

Then, the next day, we all got a chance to look at the stuffed GHOW and talk about how big it was, how amazing the talons are, the adaptations to the eyes and ear placement. It was a great follow-up and there were stories told of the previous night and how Barn Owls live in some kids' barns. That was a great segue [okay, i just have a side note here: I just learned how to spell this word today; thanks Shaun. But, I have to say that even though I'm annoyed at the fact I thought it was spelled "segway", I think it just became one of my favorite words] into mentioning how important owls are to control rodents.

So, during one program I always point out the Sharpie tail feathers that are in a pile by the door, describing this hawk that attacks little songbirds, but who instead got attacked himself, probably by a Great-horned Owl. But then, my group was playing a game outside and this kid looks down and finds some feathers that are owl feathers (we all were so psyched by the really great example of fringing at the edges of the feathers which gives owls their silent flight.) and they are not GHOW and not Barred Owl! They're tiny, but there are 5 of them, really more part of a wing than just feathers; there are coverts connected and some gristle at the end. I ended up putting the wing piece on a sheet of paper and drawing the rest of the wing out as best I could. This wing is Saw-whet size. And Northern Saw-whet Owls are the only owls that size that are found in this area. How cool is that!?!?

It has truly been a wonderful, owly group. I'm thinking about typing up a "Finding-Owl-Wing" certificate for the kid who found the feathers on the ground.

105 kids

We take kids out for night hikes where we play cool games ("Recognize Your Rock", "Owl & Mouse", "Bat & Moth") and learn cool facts (triboluminescence can be generated by crunching down on a Wint-O-Green Lifesaver -- try this in the dark in front of the mirror), and there's one part of the hike where we break out the pirate eye-patch. The point is to cover your night-adapted eye with your hand (which functions as a pirate eye-patch) and listen to a story while the uncovered eye re-adapts to light by looking at a white-light lantern. I like to tell a pirate story about our pirate ship attacking another pirate ship, and we're swashbuckling out on the sunny deck, taking prisoners and yelling "yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum". But then when we pirates go below deck to look for the treasure, we are plunged into darkness (turn off the lantern)...but then I tell them to change their pirate patch to the other eye, and look around. The covered eye is still dark-adapted and they can see the difference between the two eyes.

Been seeing tons of birds coming through, Canada Warblers, Northern Gannets, Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers, Blue-headed Vireos, Merlins, Baltimore Orioles, maybe a Tennessee Warbler, and a thrush that I thought was a Hermit until I looked in Sibley and saw how many Catharus Thrushes there are out here that look exactly the same (argh!).

So, we had 105 kids on campus last week. At one point I was in charge of 20 sixth graders in the dark. Hella crazy, but we all had fun in the end. Teaching is stressful, exasperating, challenging and rewarding. I highly recommend that all you field scientists get some experience in outreach. It's one of the most important aspects of conservation. And kids, when they're not whining or asking questions designed to push your buttons, are way more fun and interesting than many adults. There's one program I give about landscape change that I really enjoy. We walk around on a big UTM map, learn how to calculate UTM coordinates, play "lichens-shrubs-trees" (a rock-paper-scissors game that demonstrates forest succession), take GPS points in the forest and then put them into mapping software. And while we're walking around, every now and then I get to point to the sky and yell "Sharpie!" as one flies overhead. The kids heads snap up and they're all like, "Whoa, cool!" and then we talk a bit about migration and how awesome birds are.

So, suffice to say that things are great, but I definitely miss field work: the relative solitude, the intellectual stimulus, the colleagues, and the birds.

Bird Lists

Friday Aug 31: Overcast, rain. 1 SSHA seen on rocks above high tide algae, BCCH, BTNW. Ian and Cara came to visit. Worked on Sharpie Paper, went for run.

Saturday Sept 1: Sun, breezy. 7 SSHA, 1 AMKE NOPA, CEDW (3 Fledgies, 2 Parents), BTNW (fledgie feeding), HERG, DCCO, BAEA, COYE, XXVI, Catbird? (heard "mrah!" from bushes), GCKI, 5 SCJU, 4 PUFI, SPSA, GBBG, PISI, AMGO, YRWA, BCCH. Went up to Schoodic Head trail and down to Blueberry Hill.

Sunday Sept 2: Sun. MERL? 4 SSHA, 1 AMKE, BTNW, BCCH. Called Barb. Went for run.

Tuesday Sept 4: Sun, breezy. 5 SSHA, 1 AMKE, 2 PUFI, CEDW, GCKI, Porcupine seen at Ball Field while on my run.

Wednesday Sept 5: Sun, breezy. 8 SSHA, 1 AMKE, 1 XXHU, 5 AMCR, BAWW, GCKI, XXVI (likely PHVI?), 1 Red Fox. All seen/heard before 8:30 am! More later.

On the Tail of Great-horned Owls

Yesterday morning I went down the Sundew trail, as I do at least once almost every day. I stopped at the sound of chipping in the bushes. I seldom resort to pishing to view a bird. This little one was not showing itself, but was chipping in a very interesting way. I thought it might be a new species. So I pished him out, and he turned out to be a White-throated Sparrow (which I've seen before, but always appreciate). An American Redstart came over to join in the hubub, and I really enjoy watching them. They're so pretty, and darn cute when they lean down and fan their tails. I was watching Redstart more than usual because of this. Suddenly, I saw a pair of yellow eyes below the passerine. The Great-horned Owl had been in my binocular view the whole time I was watching Redstart, but was so camouflaged against his tree-trunk that I didn't see him until he turned around and blinked at me with his beautiful feathered-eye-lids. He only seemed mildly alarmed at my presence. Redstart was being very brave indeed, scolding so close to the predator. It was such a coincidence that I had decided to pish when a predator was actually nearby. I apologized to Owl for blowing his cover, and continued on down the trail.

A little bit further down, I heard the scratchy call of a fledgling GHOW, who was perhaps attempting to communicate with the adult in response to the disturbance. I went off trail a bit (don't tell) and tried to find him. For a bit, I was going in circles as the young owl seemed to be moving around. Then, I saw him, high in a spruce tree, still wreahh-ing. All I could see of him were his fluffy juvenal undertail coverts and his strong taloned feet grasping the spruce branch, and his tufty "horns" poking up past his head. He then pooped and flew off towards where I had left the adult. I smiled and made my way back to the trail to walk on down to the coast.

Out the window foggy and grey

The fog is slowly erasing and re-drawing the trees and houses outside the window. I think I'll go walk in it soon. I wonder about the birds, particularly tired migrants, in this weather. Is this difficult for them? Does it push the margins just a little too far for some?

Moving boxes, tables, chairs, organizing libraries, attending plant talks, starting a simple dichotomous tree key, and doing odd tasks like sorting rope filled the time this past week. I can't imagine doing this work every year, as well as doing the probably equally time-consuming and tiring task of packing it all up again. It was a relief yesterday to sit down and work on the tree guide. It's fun to think of how to express the keying out of a tree with a kid's perspective in mind. It should be efficient, but not simplistic; accurate but not needlessly detailed. I enjoy seeking the most accurate and efficient expression of information. It's like a game to use the least space, include all pertient information, and still make sense without dilution. I hope (and I do think this will happen) that in the next week, our mostly-physical labor will transition into mostly-intellectual labor.

Learning Education

I was involved in a 2-day teacher workshop entitled "Leopold Education Project" which demonstrates to educators how to teach the values of Aldo Leopold and land-ethic. It was very interesting material; I enjoyed the ideas of using A Sand County Almanac as a curriculum base. There were also lots of opportunities to incorporate my knowledge of birds into the lessons, which I was very excited about, of course! One idea I liked was having the kids research different birds' courtship rituals, then acting them out for their classmates. This lesson was based in one of Leopold's essays "The Sky Dance," describing the amazing ritual of the American Woodcock. Another lesson was bringing kids to see a bird banding demonstration! Leopold was a bird bander, which I didn't know. So, it was an eye-opening and mind-expanding experience. The workshop facilitator left something to be desired, however. I felt some of the time lagged with her talking too much off-topic. But, that itself was an opportunity to think about how I would do things differently.

And now I've got a 3-day weekend which I plan to spend biking, hiking and climbing around. Also, getting some illustrations for my Owlet stories started. There's also an artist-in-residence lesson happening this afternoon which I'm going to attend. This is an interesting project in that it's attempting to meld science and arts, and I'm really glad I'm here.

BAEA morning

This morning's bird walk was auspicious. I biked down to the one-way road, then hid the bike in the trees and continued along the road on foot. Little twitterings of small birds made me look over my right shoulder, where a hulking dark bird sat in the top of a snag. Closer inspection revealed a Bald Eagle who stayed put while I walked around to take photos of his patriotic visage before he grew suspicious of me and flew over the road into the salt marsh.

I continued to walk, stopping to pish out a YBCH, and then took Good Birding Trail (I named it myself, can you tell?), where I had good bird luck before. The trail wasn't as birdy as it had been previously, but I still got BAWW (Black-and-white Warbler)!!! On my way back, there were 4 BAEA over the small bay. 3 looked like adults, and one was a young bird. Upon inspection of my photos, I noticed that the apparently adult bird I had photographed had some white feathers in its underwings, and therefore was young-er. I wonder what the 4-some's affiliation is: all family members?

When I got back to where my bike was stashed, the little triangle where the two-way road meets the one-way road was bursting with birdy activity. Paying attention to BCCHs pays off since all the other birds hang out with them. In addition to the chickadees, I saw YRWA, AMRE, some Vireo (likely Solitary?), and SCJU (Slate-colored Junco)!!! I hereby name that place Mixed Flock Triangle.

More BAEA photos and other pics can be found at http://picasaweb.google.com/susan.culliney

Bird trail

I found a great birding trail this morning. It's flanked by dense but short alders, where birds can feel safe in the thicket but are still fairly visible to birders. I saw a flycatcher (I think it was an ALFL, but can't be sure until I get my bird book, it sounded like an Alder), BCCH which scolded me from an arm's length away, RBNUs everwhere, several NOFL, WTSPs singing, SOSPs chipping, BAEA soaring and later a BWHA! and of course DCCO and HEGU flying overhead. Good bird day! Two different XXWA (one may have been a Magnolia Warbler, the other one I have no idea); and a BTNW which I heard and then saw.

Nice clear morning; some high clouds are rolling in this afternoon.

Maine birds

I've arrived in Maine, flown here on a giant metal bird. Upon stepping out of the airport, I saw some EUSTs foraging in the urban grass, and I swear I heard a HOSP up in the metal jungle of streetlights. On my bus ride, a COHA suddenly shot over the highway, nearly colliding with the bus.

I arrived at night, and heard no owls. The SPOW are far far behind! Their cousins the Barred Owl are home here and I can love them here. I hope to hear one while I'm here. During my days of exploring the area and starting work/getting tours, I've added HETH, GBBG, HEGU, GBHE, BTNW, SOSP, DCCO, AMGO, and BLJA to my Maine list.

It's been foggy the past two days. I think I'll go to the point and hang out this evening, watching for seabirds until the light fades.

Strange Folk at Lagunitas

My net veggies at our Lagunitas Creek banding site have been punctuated by visits from strange folk. The first time I was there I completed nets 2-4, after spending the morning banding with Libby, Anna, and Irene. While finishing up net 2, a man walks down the net trail with a briefcase in his hand. We introduce ourselves and explain what our business is here in nature. It turns out he is sampling the stream because he works for a dam upstream. This is all well, but he turns out to be a talker. When he discovers that I'm sampling the plants, he warns me about poison oak and goes on to describe plants he's seen but that don't sound familiar to me. He incorrectly identifies an Alder and talks about his trip to Costa Rica. After a while I begin to make the motions to get back to work and he leaves me to sample the water. On his way back he talks a little more. He seemed harmless, just appreciative of his captive audience.

The next visit I started the morning attempting to survey net 1. While standing in Quadrant 3, trying to figure out if this blackberry clump is connected to or separate from the rest, I see a dark-grey furry-tailed cat-sized shape out of the corner of my eye. Before I can get a look at its head, it has leaped into the blackberry. I try to chase it away with my measuring stick and yelling. I think it has gone, but then it begins growling ferociously from not very far into the shrubs. It's also making loud coughing or barking-like sounds. I keep yelling, and it keeps growling. I decide that it's either rabid or feeling cornered; either way it's dangerous. I collect my things and leave the area, all to the cadence of growls and barks. At the end of the day, after completing nets 5-10, net 1 remains the only net left, but I'm tired and unwilling to face the adrenaline rush again. Matt and Amanda banded there the next day and they had a Grey Fox growling and barking at them from out in the open, so that must have been what it was.

So, today, I return to Lagunitas with only net 1 needing to be finished. When I arrive, there is a man jogging down the road, away from me, in a blue basketball-style jersey and pants. When I gather my tools and begin down the trail, I see he is now walking and looking back over his shoulder. While climbing over the fence, I notice a side trail in which someone has stashed a large black duffel bag. I'm curious, but I walk past it and get to net 1 where there are no growling animals. While setting up, I hear footsteps above me (net 1 is down low in the blackberries) and clear my throat (ahem!) in an attempt to let whatever human, animal or monster know that I'm here. I walk to where I can see, and there is the Jogging Man, carrying the black duffel bag. He is creeping carefully among what I later find out is poison oak, looking to see if anyone is around. He's not very good at making sure no one is around because he doesn't see me, and apparently didn't hear my ahem. I am thinking he must be getting ready to change out of his jogging suit and so go further down the net lane to where I can't see him. I hear some rustling, and then it's quiet. I decide it's time to get to work and go about my business. Later on, I walk uphill to measure a Bay tree (which was a whopping 84cm DBH!) and notice the black duffel has been moved, right next to the tree I need to measure. I take the measurement, and then curiosity gets the better of me. Looking around (hopefully being more aware than he was), I pull up a cover and peek inside. There's some clothes, folded neatly, and a rolled-up sleeping mat that one would use for camping. I'm not sure what I was expecting: drugs? money? a chopped up dead body? Whoever he is, if he wanted privacy, he picked the wrong site on the wrong day to stash his boring belongings.

So, I surveyed all the nets and I won't be going back. Though I'm sure if I did, some other strange person or animal would be there to greet me.

The Barn Swallows Fledge!

The nest near the kitchen door has fledged its baby Barn Swallows. While eating breakfast this morning, I heard a scrambling at the screen door. I looked up to see a little swallow toddler clinging to the screen, looking around at the world with great curiosity. He then flew to the outside fridge and perched there watching the grown-up Barn Swallows and Cliff Swallows which were swooping around in the great blue yonder. His eyes were bright, his feathers shiny, and his courage great. He tottered a bit while preening his new beautiful wings and tail feathers, but eventually flew first to the picnic table as a staging ground, then to the roof where his brothers and sisters were hanging out getting food from mom and dad. Go Barn Swallow babies!

The end is near

It feels like my time here at PRBO is drawing to a close. Stefanie left today, though she'll be back in a week and a half to finish things up. But I'm starting to think about packing up my stuff, mailing my guitar, how I'm getting from the Portland, ME airport up to Winter Harbor. It's very ending-like around here. We also took the group photo of the Palo summer crew today. Hummy the Hummingbird float was also present for the photo op. Matt, Gunther and Libby also cooked up a Steak & Eggs breakfast for Stefanie's last day (Stef is a big protein advocate) and so we all had a good mid-morning meal.

And also, life goes on in the grids. Today, Matt and I helped Jonathan to target-net and band nestlings. The Wrentit nestlings were there and we were successful in banding them. But, our target-netting efforts included a WREN pair and two NWCS territories but we only succeeded in capturing the White-crowned sparrow. Also, none of us had a watch with us (what kind of biologists don't wear watches?!) and so we didn't realize we had been gone for 4 hours. We got back in time to be part of the photo and to attend the meeting where Geoff also discussed his 1987 journal paper on the possible role Chernobyl played in a sudden decrease in the number of young birds captured at Palo in 1986. Then, we all went to Vladimir's for Czheck beer and pretzels.

So, it feels that things are winding down, we try to squeeze out the last drops of fun times. But there is a bittersweet feeling in the air, as if it's too good to last.

Baby Wrentits Are Cuter Than Plants

I exchanged a nestling banding favor for a veg survey favor today. I helped Jon band his WREN and SPTO nestlings and then he recorded data for me while I dove into the poison oak and shouted out measurement numbers. Not quite a fair trade: I had lots more fun helping with the baby birds than he did watching me scrambling around in the brush.

The baby Wrentits were really cute. Most of their feathers had broken through the pins and the new protruding feathers were of a very nice brown. They were of an age that precedes fear and they squeaked and scrambled around in my hands while I banded them and took some measurements. The Towhee babies were also cute, a bit bigger, and with funnily extended bellies. They were also squeakers and flailers and they fold up into a nice compact shape, perfectly fitting their legs, wings and heads into their rounded bodies.

The plants were decidedly less cute. I zipped up the hood on my jacket and then crackled my way through the twigs and branches to extend the measuring tape 5m into the fray. In some situations I could tell that the vegetation extended until beyond 5m, but in other cases I had to go to the end of the tape to make sure there weren't other species lurking under the poison oak.

Measuring Plants

I would have thought that, after studying birds which move and bite and fly away before they're identified, that studying and measuring plants would be relaxing...

After being stung, scratched, confused, and poked in the eye many times over the past two days, I'm so ready to go back to birds. So many plants look alike to me. I'm finding that some species ID comes by feel (that stings, it's stinging Nettle; that scratches, it's blackberry; that caused my skin to burst into itchy vesicles, it must be poison oak!) and also by smell (Bay, Mugwort, Sage).

I'm also frustrated by Willows. At times they are tall and skinny and clumped into a huge tangle, so I call it a shrub. Other times, they are single, thick and tall so that it seems more like a tree. And often, a Willow or conglomeration of Willows are somewhere in the nebulous gray area between shrub and tree. So, I stand there, staring into Quadrant I, with my data sheet in front of me, trying to decide between these two categories. I'll take a couple steps in towards the plant in question. I'll take a couple steps back to get a better look. Maybe I'll take DBH. Mostly, I stand and stare and then either come to a decision that will be challenged at the next Willow, or I skip the decision to wait for further instruction from my supervisors.

It seems to me difficult to shove these diverse, multi-layered, variously sized, endlessly different tangles of vegetation onto a two sided data sheet.

Owl Attack

Two nights ago, I went on an owl survey because I need the female from that pair to hoot once more. The protocol I follow states that in order to call a female a female (and therefore part of a "pair", an important designation for our records), she needs to hoot (you can sex Spotted Owls by their hoots. The female's hooting voice is higher than the male's. Both sexes whistle and bark and these vocalizations are unhelpful in determining sex.) twice at night or once during the day. This particular female had hooted once at night so far.

I arrived a little after 20:30 and was waiting for the darkness to fall more completely. I heard an owl contact whistle fairly close to me. This was not unusual, but nor was it what I had come for. I waited a bit longer, then began tape calling owl calls, a two-minute loop. I then waited in the silent dark for 10 minutes. Faintly, I could hear the male from the next drainage, hooting agitatedly. There was nothing from the owl which had been close by. I walked over to where the male was, and began voice calling. Instead of using the tape player and megaphone, I, personally, began imitating owl calls. My idea was to be further away from the owl I first heard (which was likely the female), so the distance and my voice (perhaps more real sounding than a crackly cassette tape) would reach her and incite her to hoot. Instead, the male came up the drainage to a tree right on the trail. I then heard a second owl contact whistling in that same tree. I just needed her to hoot once, just hoot so I could hear her higher pitched voice! I continued to voice call.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my left eye, I saw a blurry gray shape above my head hurtling out of the darkness towards me. I ducked, but she hit me with talons extended and with a force that was impressive for a 300g ball of feathers. I crouched on the ground and began yelling in my human voice, stopping my pretending of being an intruder owl, so she might get the idea that something was amiss, and wouldn't come down for a second strike! I then put my backpack over my head and scurried undignifiedly along the trail to where I felt it was safe again.

My heart was pounding, my forehead was scratched, and I just felt bad. Even though I was just doing my job, which is intended to monitor these birds for their continued survival and habitat conservation, it seemed to me that I had intruded on their lives tonight. I said a silent apology and hiked back to my car.

As I was leaving, I also realized I had been complimented. That owl thought I was a real owl. For better or for worse, I had entered another species' world for a brief glimpse of life as a Spotted Owl, fighting for turf in the Redwood forest. These owls aren't just cute cuddly animals that sit on a branch all day. They're that too, but they're also real individuals with real lives, and we really don't know or understand them much at all.

Moths, Baby Birds, and Papier-mache

Right now, there are hundreds of moths fluttering like summer snow in the sunset light outside. The birds are ignoring them so they must not be very tasty. The Barn Swallows above the kitchen door have nestlings, and I'm betting most of the Cliff Swallow nests also contain babies. The Quail have been spotted leading fluffy chicks around too. And the Wrentits have already started building their second nests. Their first offspring are forming adolescent gangs in the scrub, and they try singing but sound a little hesitant. Life is everywhere.

The huge papier-mache Hummingbird (nicknamed "Hummy") is coming together, hopefully in time for the 4th of July parade in Bolinas. His tiny counterparts do not seem alarmed at the Frankenhummer coming to life next to their sugar water feeder. Hummy still needs paint, cloth wings and cardboard retrices. The summer is running away into July. Where is the time?

More Veggies, More Questions

So, if a shrub is really a conglomeration of shrubs, is it still a shrub? And what if I spend an hour seeking a snag and find none, is it worth more time to seek snags in the other three quadrants? And, if my 5 meter transect is through vegetation so thick that I have to toss my measuring tape over the shrubs and then disappears into the poison oak, how do I count plants without trampling them?

Such are the ponderings of a vegetation sampler.

Meanwhile, Wrentit YW/WS came in close to see what I was doing, and was not impressed. He expressed his disgust by churring.

Veggies

Veggies are vegetation surveys. I've started to do surveys around the mist-nets, and they offer their own unique challenges and frustrations. I'm feeling disgruntled enough not to want to go into detail.

Inside, cold and eye-sore

Spent the day inside today, filling out site status forms for the owls. Then, I worked on my Sharpie presentation. I'm giving it tomorrow. Should be fun, and I think it's all set. It'll be a strange way to kick off Palo Prom. Speaking of, it looks like it's gearing up to be a blast. Spiked punch, a disco ball, decorations..., good food, fun music, and lots of silly dressing up.

Skunked at Blake Canyon

Didn't find my owls at Blake, as I pretty much suspected. I have the hunch that they disperse pretty widely once the breeding season is over (or for non-nesting birds, once they have determined they will not be nesting this season). They could have been fairly close as the owl flies, but maybe tucked away up some arroyo where they couldn't hear me and I couldn't hear them.

It was a cold blustery day up the Cataract Trail though. Enough so that I was glad to descend and get back to hot food and a shower.

Tonight, I'm heading out again for more hooting.

Banding at Pine Gulch

Banded at PIGU today, after point-counting there. Banding was fairly slow, but it was nice to see Wilson's Warblers and Allen's Hummingbirds in the hand again. Heard and saw a male Black-headed Grosbeak, which was a treat.

We were right on the border of fog, with the cloud coming and going all morning.

Traffic

One doesn't expect to encounter traffic while living as a field biologist studying owls. However, the owls I work for require city driving. Between getting honked at twice, nearly colliding with a vehicle that suddenly switched lanes, and sitting in motionless traffic for an hour before turning around to go the long way home, I'm exhausted. And that doesn't take into account the 80 degree heat and the uncooperative nature of my owls today.

Hot Owls

I checked on the second owl nest today, and didn't find them at home at first. I had to search around and eventually located them upslope from their nest tree. I found mom, pop, and one baby. The young bird was very cute and more interested in me than its parents were. He was fluffy, covered in white down, and his dark eyes were rimmed with his darker facial feathers, creating a masked look. Both baby and mom seemed hot, and it was a hot day, with the warm air invading even the usually cool Redwood forest. The female lifted up her feathers to expose her tarsi (legs), in an apparent effort to cool herself off. I left them in peace after making sure that one fledgling was all I could find.

Tonight, I owl.

De damn owls

They made me run today: over hill and vale, under fallen tree trunks and through plenty of tan oak brush. I started out easily enough, by calling from up top on a ridge where they had been three times before, and where I was sure they would be again. Instead, I got a male and female response from down in the arroyo, opposite of the slope I had just climbed up. Eventually I found them, after much climbing and thrashing through brush, including hauling myself up an embankment by grabbing onto a Bay tree which had fallen but was sprouting all along its trunk. I was soaked in sweat and covered with dust and tree flakes, in addition, the flies were awful. The reason I had come was to check on the male's bands, but he ended up being unbanded anyway. As I was writing up my notes, he suddenly launched from his perch to smack down on the ground, with wings and tail splayed. Had he seen some little tidbit? But instead of returning to his perch immediately, he sat there in the sun, in that fully extended position, blinking sleepily. Eventually he righted himself and flew back to his tree. The female then flew in and began begging which may indicate that he had indeed captured some snack and she wanted a share.

I just love (after the fact) how I assume that my job is going to be simple and clear-cut: find the owls in the same place they always are, and get the male's band status. But it seems that more often than not, they have the upperhand (wing?) and I end up running through the forest, tripping on roots and falling down into arroyos. They are clearly in charge of the situation; I remain a humble biologist.

Banding at Palo

Instead of owling, I helped out with banding at Palomarin field station, where I live and where the PRBO offices are. We open nets 15min after sunrise and close 6 hours later. It was a beautiful, warm, calm day and so were able to stay open for the whole time. We only caught 9 birds of 6 species, but it was nice to be banding again. I miss the WIWAs and the PUFIs (who tried to bite me) and being more keyed into the small birds rather than trying to ignore them while concentrating on finding owls.

My most interesting capture was a young Song Sparrow. While taking him out of the net, I immediately knew he was a baby due to the slightly reddish lores, and the fluffy quality to his body feathers (meaning it was his juvenal plumage, of poorer quality compared to adult feathers). And when I took him back to the lab to take measurements, his skull (which I could see through the translucent skin) was barely ossified, signifying a bird hatched this season.

Barn Swallow on Nest

A Barn Swallow is sitting on her nest just outside of the kitchen door. She peeks over the edge when I walk by, perhaps worried about disturbance? When the pair was building, they were much more skittish and more likely to fly away. Now, though, she sticks to her nest, and her mate visits her with much squeaking and trilling.

I did a point count today and found a Winter Wren Nest and an Osprey Nest. The WIWR was very close, less than 10m, and I watched as it flew into a hole in the bank with food in its bill. It emerged with a fecal sac. There must be babies in there that need food input and to have their nest cleaned out! The Osprey I watched carried a fish, and it dove spectacularly to land on a large stick nest where its nestling was crying for food. The parent left the fish, which the chick began to eat.