Tennessee Valley

 

Tennessee Valley Bobcat (Lynx nonchalantii)

A little bit of color was showing in the morning sky when I pulled into the parking lot, and it got better and better as I hiked down toward the Haypress Camp Trail. By a little past 7 a.m., the sky had morphed into such a satisfying blaze of crimson that I figured my day was made, even if I didn't see any bobcats.

I hiked all the way out to Haypress Camp, then all the way down to the beach at Tennessee Cove, and had almost reached the home stretch back to my car when a bobcat ambled out of the brush along the north side of the trail, just as casual as can be. I very gently put my eyeglasses away, removed the camera's lens cap and got the lens on her, moving ever so slowly and smoothly, only to soon realize that this cat was an old-timer who was not about to spook so easily.

Believe it or not, I actually got the idea to go to Tennessee Valley just yesterday, feeling like it was a good time of year to see a bobcat. I had just about figured the feeling was a false-alarm when the cat showed up and made my day. She hunted a little bit, but mostly just groomed and snoozed. I hung out with her for maybe an hour-and-a-half before she ducked under a coyote bush and snuggled down in some leaves and shade, apparently for good. My smartwatch, being well out of cellphone range, went dumb as nails and refused to tell time. However, the camera's first snaps were made at 9:58 a.m., and the last was made at 11:26 (although I continued to trail the bobcat for a few minutes after shooting the last frame).

Despite being out of cellphone range, my phone sprang to life as I was walking back to my car, as one of those emergency alerts started buzzing about a possible tsunami rolling out of a magnitude 7.0 earthquake off the Humboldt County coast. 

Red Sky in the Morning

It was a great surprise to get such a blazing sunrise today.

One of the biggest bobcat latrines I've ever seen can be found out by Haypress Camp, just where the road bends sharply near the end. There's a culvert under the road there, and the area has been decorated with numerous scats. The one above, complete with scrape, was the most fresh-looking.

With several brush rabbits nibbling in the chilly morning air, I figured there would be bobcats around, but I hung out for a while in vain. I approached this rabbit three steps at a time and was able to get surprisingly close before it bolted for cover.

I pursued a great horned owl in that eucalyptus grove in the background, but it kept flying away from me. Farther down the road I looked back and was surprised to see a rainbow. I hadn't known it was supposed to rain. Thankfully only a few drops fell.

I love Tennessee Valley's understated beauty.

It can get very crowded out there on a weekend, but this morning's visitor traffic was very light.

You gotta love a wrentit.

They're feisty, vocal, daring, and cute.

It was nice to see California quail feeding near the old horse stable and barn. About a dozen years ago I was photographing quail in the same area when a park ranger, thinking I was shooting commercially since I was using a tripod and DSLR, asked me if I had a photography permit. It was great to walk around today without having to carry all that gear.

Checking out the old horse barn I was surprised to see this tule boat.

Willow View

Tennessee Valley's Main Trail

Hermit Thrush

White-crowned Sparrow

The shorebreak at Tennessee Cove was kind of monstrous, as usual. The waves aren't very tall, but they are massive.

It's fun to watch the water recede after a wave washes up, but it's the susurration of all the countless little pebbles that sticks in your mind.

Colors of the Marsh

I'd hoped to see a bobcat up on this lichen-covered promontory. It would have been just a bit bigger than this red-tailed hawk.

Gratitude and joy greeted me farther up the trail, when a bobcat casually strolled out of the brush and headed to this rock, where it stopped for a long session of grooming. Love those huge hind feet.

This is where I was standing the whole time.

Claws extended for a little neck-scratching.

The cat, with its bobtail vibrating in anticipation of a pounce, slowly and carefully set down each of its paws as it slowly stalked closer to its prey...

...which got away without a pounce.

Whatever had caught the cat's attention must have been pretty worthwhile.

The bobcat stayed put for quite a long time.

At one point, three white-crowned sparrows in a nearby coyote bush all appeared to be watching the cat.

But the cat wasn't doing anything too exciting.

Meanwhile, high up on the hillside....

The cat finally got up, and unfortunately I failed to anticipate that it would stretch itself out. I caught this shot as it was coming out of the deepest part of its stretch.

Listening for the rustling of grass....

The cat surprised me again by jumping up on the fence and sharpening its claws on the wood, all of which occurred before I could get a good viewing angle.

It looks like the cat is making water or something, but it's really just turning around.

Some furtive sound that I did not hear seemed to have captured its attention.

But it didn't amount to anything.

I did anticipate the cat would stop to drink at one of the puddles, but it passed them by without so much as an interested glance.

Thanks for letting me tag along this morning, my friend.

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Cliff Warbler

 

Warbler-by-the-Sea

At first glance I thought the bird was too small to be the yellow-rumped warbler I've often seen hunting flies behind the Cliff House. Thinking it might be a species I've never seen before, I ducked out of sight and quickly wrangled the camera out of my bike bag, then stuffed the lens cap and my eyeglasses in my pants pocket before gingerly poking my head back over the cliff. Of course the bird was gone by then -- but not for long.

It wasn't a new species after all, but it was still good to see that this bird -- presumably the same individual I've seen several times since first sighting it in late October -- was still hawking for insects behind the Cliff House. It was probably too cold for the usual sea-cliff flies that hang out around there (none landed on my exposed legs or neck as they usually do), but the salty warbler busily darted out and returned to various perches in search of whatever might be available.

Two pairs of surf scoters were still working the tumultuous waters near Sutro Rock, casually ducking beneath huge breakers in the nick of time. A few more cormorants and pelicans were occupying Seal Rocks, perhaps marking a shift from the recent low point of bird life out there.

There was a bit of an offshore wind to go with a nice swell this morning, so I checked out the surfers for a bit before heading home through an usual amount of air pollution that was disconcertingly visible even up close. It was probably one of those days where they warn old farts like me to stay inside. 

Ice Plant Warbler

I usually see the warbler on the bare branches of one of two main bushes.

Of course it's much easier to spot on a branch than on gray sandstone.

Surf Scoters Paddling Out of the Impact Zone

Rooster Tails and Hollow Waves

Dual Duel Off Noriega Street

There was not one, but two, foil surfers out there today.

Bad Air Day

UPDATE (12/8/24): Yikes! 

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Going Green

 

Bison in the Green

We left town just ahead of the Bay Area's late-November heavy rains. Before we left, my urban walking routes were still full of last year's grass remnants, brown and sparse. Fast-forward a little more than a week, and the brown has completely disappeared, almost like a magic trick. In its place, fresh green grass sprouts all along the Sunset Parkway and the trails in Golden Gate Park. A whole new season has begun. Today I even caught a pair of red-shouldered hawks hooking up in a tree above Mallard Lake.

At Elk Glen Lake I was told the yellow-bellied sapsucker had been seen just yesterday, but I didn't see it today. A little kinglet had the whole oak tree to itself. In the air above the lakeside tule rushes, clouds of midges hovered in the sunbeams as hummingbirds gobbled them up -- further sign of a greening new season.

Speaking of going green, I've been watching a series called Landman, with Billy Bob Thornton playing a gritty, funny, seen-it-all manager of an independent oil production company in Texas. I like the Hollywood realism of the show, but the credibility of Thornton's character suffered a blow in the episode where he spouts off about wind power, mansplaining to a hotshot young attorney that, contrary to her belief that wind power is "green," the carbon footprint for construction and maintenance of wind turbines is actually only break-even over their 20-year life span, largely due to their huge cement foundations.

I was going to let it go since the show is, after all, fiction, but curiosity got the better of me, so I looked it up. According to Google's AI Overview, "A wind turbine's carbon footprint over a 20-year lifespan is considered very low, with most emissions occurring during its manufacturing phase, meaning once operational, it produces almost no carbon dioxide emissions and can offset its construction emissions within a relatively short time frame, often within a few months to a year, depending on the turbine size and location; essentially making its 20-year carbon footprint negligible compared to fossil fuel power sources."

And to put a little finer point on it, "...the emissions resulting from cement production are minimal when compared to other types of electricity production. The average CO2e impact of cement in foundations for land-based and offshore wind turbine foundations is about 1 gram per kilowatt-hour of electricity generation.... Conversely, the emissions from producing electricity from natural gas average 490 g/kWh, and the average from coal is 820 g/kWh."

First calla lily of the season.

First hawk hookup of the season.

The red-shouldered hawks are suddenly much quicker to fly away when they catch me watching them. I first noticed the phenomenon yesterday when the local streetlight hawk -- once so content to be photographed at my leisure -- flew away almost immediately. Ditto for the hawks I saw today.

The Maltese-flagged container ship CMA CGM Abraham Lincoln heads into port in Oakland.

Lots of thunder-swells were slamming into the sea stacks and cliffs today.

Surf...

...and Surf Scoter
(They're back!)

Note the gull surfing on the back of the sea lion.

The gulls were very interested in snagging bits of fish that were scattered about as the sea lion thrashed its catch in its jaws, presumably to break off more bite-sized pieces for itself.

A little sea spray reaches up the cliff from a crashing wave.

As I rode past this cotoneaster bush yesterday I could hear the cedar waxwings cheeping in the nearby woods. I stopped to try to photograph them to no avail. They refused to return to the berries until I gave up and rode away.

They were still around today, so on a hunch I took off my bright yellow bike windbreaker, and voila. The waxies came in to feast.

In small quantities, the berries are mildly toxic to humans. I guess I'll stick to eating an occasional Christmasberry instead.

* * *

Chicago Interlude

 

Red-bellied Woodpecker on Oak Branch in Berwyn, Illinois

Back from a somber visit with family in the Chicago area, where my mother-in-law is quite ill with ALS, I reflect on her love of nature, and this season of changes.

I'm always amazed to find such an exotic-looking bird as this male cardinal in the back yards of suburban Chicago.

The female cardinals are cool, too.

The oaks and ginkgo trees had lost almost all of their leaves, but maple leaves still clung to their branches.

Grape leaves warm a cold alley with their fall color.

The belly of this female red-bellied woodpecker lacks the streaks of red sported by males.

She appeared to be trying to cache her acorn, but flew away with it when she spotted me taking too much of an interest.

Robins often scattered the smaller (but winter-fluffy) sparrows from the back yard bird bath to hog it for themselves.

The neighborhood squirrels appeared to be fat and happy.

And the cottontail rabbits were getting their winter coats.

Temps were in the 50s the first couple of days we were there, only to drop suddenly to the high 20s one night. A thin cap of ice formed on the bird bath, so we plugged in the water heater.

Overnight, the yard became covered with newly fallen maple leaves.

A couple of days later, flocks (or "sedges") of sandhill cranes flew south, probably toward wildlife refuges in Indiana.

Sandhill Cranes

We saw this buck heading toward the forest along the Des Plaines River during a walk through the neighborhood. It was limping on its right hind leg.

In order to create space to put a bed downstairs, we had to dismantle the upright piano (moving it whole was not an option) that my wife learned to play as a child. It had last been tuned in November 1977 and hasn't been used much in the many years since she left home. The biggest parts of the job were removing all the strings and tuning pins, then removing the heavy cast iron piano plate from its equally heavy wooden backing, and hauling it all out back to be taken away.

Almost home again, with tule fog filling the valley right up to the coastal mountains. The view was also spectacular as we approached and flew over the Sierra Nevada; regretfully, a stranger had the window seat.

* * *