Crosstown Traffic

 

American Avocet, Heron's Head Park

According to Google Maps it's only 5.2 miles as the crow flies to India Basin Shoreline Park, but for those of us without wings, the bike ride is 8.8 miles. Almost all of this crosstown route is in traffic, but it's sort of an interesting ride despite the fumes -- although not so interesting that I'd want to return home by reversing the route. It's far more interesting to make a loop by riding north along the waterfront and returning through the Presidio, as I did today, or taking the longer option to continue past the Presidio to Ocean Beach.

The tide was pretty low, around minus 0.5 feet, when I arrived at India Basin, and what few ducks and shorebirds there were had almost all wandered well out of camera range. Things were a lot better next door at Heron's Head. Numerically it was still pretty sparse, but the birds were much closer to shore, and one of my favorite local birds, the black oystercatcher, made an appearance just as I was about to leave.

When I saw this dandelion-like flower bud at India Basin I thought it was some kind of weird insect perched on top of the stalk. Only when I put my camera lens on it was I disappointed to see that it was a flower. But at least there was a tiny insect on the scene -- a lone aphid. Whoever heard of a lone aphid?

The aphid plant stalk was growing in the middle of this other plant, which reminded me of St. John's Wort. PlantNet turned up Bulbine frutescens, in the Asphodelaceae. In Greek mythology, the Asphodel Meadows were a section of the Underworld to which ordinary souls drift after death -- a kind of purgatory between the paradise of Elysium and the hell of Tartarus.

Like the aphid, this black-bellied plover was the only one of its kind.

There were maybe half a dozen American avocets, which are pretty much tied with black oystercatchers as my favorite local bird.

The greater yellowlegs is no slouch either.

Trudging across the mudflats, mile after mile.

I like how the willet looks like such a connoisseur, such an epicure, as it daintily probes for delicacies, its eyes closed in delight.

Willet Reflection

Willet in the Surf Zone

Calcareous Treasures

I was surprised to watch the black oystercatcher use its beak in reverse to pry open a small bivalve and eat the shell's occupant.

If the shell was small enough, it could all go down the hatch.

You can make out the tiny bit of clam this one scooped out.

A short way down the jetty from the two black oystercatchers that were foraging together, this dynamic duo of willets also stuck close together.

I didn't see any by-the-wind sailors washed up at Heron's Head or McCovey Cove, but I was surprised to see a bunch washed up on the beach at Aquatic Park. And yes, there were swimmers in the water. One account I read about Velella is that their nematocysts can't penetrate human skin, although softer tissue around the eyes is easier game.

This was a jumbo Velella stranded near the high tide mark, almost level with the sidewalk that skirts the park.

* * *