In the Aloe

 

Townie in the Aloe

The sun is shining now, but it was cold and windy when I biked down to the SF Botanical Gardens early this morning. As I roamed around to enjoy the blooming magnolia trees and look for birds, a long and narrow bank of clouds remained cleverly placed to block the sun, hour after hour. There wasn't a whole lot of bird activity in there, but orange-crowned and Townsend's warblers foraging among some colorful aloe flowers up near the Children's Garden took my mind off the cold.

I made a quick pass of Blue Heron Lake and was surprised to see a pair of greater white-fronted geese in there. They were hanging out with a couple of much larger Canada geese, patrolling close to shore where someone had just been tossing bread to the birds. From there I rode past Lily Pond once again, and once again struck out on the green heron.

Pink Magnolia

Looking Up

Aloe Flowers

Hummer at Rest Among the Aloe Flowers

I was interested in the rapid breathing of this hummer while it rested on a branch, but the little bit of preening was a bonus.

Orange-crowned Warbler

The orange-crowned warbler soon flew out of range, but this Townsend's warbler stuck around for another minute or so.

These were shot with the FZ80D at ISO 3200 (1/1000th sec. @ f/5.6), then run through Denoise in Lightroom.

Golden-crowned Sparrow in the Willows

Golden-crowned Sparrow Munching Willow Flowers

Red-shouldered Hawk, Out On A Limb

White Magnolia Blossoms

Ring-necked Duck (Female)

Ring-necked Duck (Male)

White-fronted Goose, Blue Heron Lake

Canada and White-fronted Geese

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Dry January

 

Today's Sunset After Another Rainless Day

So much for our 30 percent chance of rain today. All the talk of having a "Dry January" -- meaning no alcohol consumption -- must have been picked up by Mother Nature. The current forecast shows the next chance of rain to be next Friday, the last day of the month. If it happens (and who doesn't have their doubts?), it'll be the only rain in all of 2025! [UPDATE: We got a light rain in San Francisco on the 31st, but the better news is that February appears to be getting off to a good start, with rain forecast all week.]

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Beach Light

 

Interference Patterns, Ocean Beach

I went looking for another couple of birds that had been reported on recently, the first of which was a Swinhoe's white-eye on Waller Street in the Haight. The reporter said he heard a strange bird while biking to work and stopped to investigate. Apparently these unusual and photogenic birds have been expanding their range beyond Southern California (where they may have been introduced through the pet trade, like red-masked parakeets). Anyway, between the garbage truck groaning a block away and the stream of automobile traffic, I wasn't able to hear any birds.

I figured the second bird would be a cinch to find, but I struck out again. A green heron has been reported at Golden Gate Park's Lily Pond a couple of times. The reports were spaced out by more than a week, so I figured the heron might be a resident. But if it was in residence today, I couldn't find it. I was a little surprised to see a lone female hooded merganser in the pond with the mallards (and a teeny patch of lilies).

The bird life visible from the Cliff House had picked up a little today. I could hear black oystercatchers chattering out at Seal Rocks. And besides the half-dozen or so surf scoters in the surf zone, I saw a fairly large raft of them floating out by the northernmost Seal Rock. The first willets I've seen at the beach in a while were feeding within view of the Cliff House. While watching the birds I also enjoyed watching the the waves washing up the sand, their rippling interference patterns shattering winter's mid-day sunlight and creating intricate and mesmerizing, glistening textures.

I was surprised to see Townsend's warblers, as well as orange-crowned warblers, since I haven't seen any in quite a while. I saw this one on 8th Ave. between Lawton & Moraga, which Google Maps identifies as still being Golden Gate Heights, but there are local plaques calling it Windsor Terrace. Ooh, fancypants.

Fancypants Orange-crowned Warbler, Windsor Terrace

Sir Townsend's Warbler, Windsor Terrace

"Oh, it has a white eye," I thought. "Maybe it's the Swinhoe's white-eye." Nope. Orange-crowned warbler (in alder) at the Lily Pond.

Convergence: X Marks the Spot

Textured Beach With Standing Waves

Willets Hunting Mole Crabs

Fisherman Casting A Line

Pair of Willets with Shadows & Reflections

The three willets were in flight almost immediately after I pressed the shutter release. A nearby flock of gulls that spooked into flight must have frightened them. Whatever spooked them remained a mystery. Maybe gulls just enjoy taking flight together from time to time to stretch their wings.

Juvenile Black-crowned Night Heron in Redwood, South Lake

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Snowy Country

 

Sanderling Takes A Bow, Ocean Beach

There was a report of snowy plovers at Ocean Beach yesterday, so I went looking for them this morning. The report said they were at Lawton Street, but I parked at Noriega, figuring they could be anywhere. Nope. Just a couple of gulls and a raven or two. All the action appeared to be south of there. Toward Lawton Street.

I ended up walking all the way down the beach, past Lawton, to around Judah Street, where a flock of small shorebirds was working the tide line. Every one of those little guys was a sanderling. There wasn't a snowy plover in sight. I snapped a few photos and hung around awhile, but finally started walking back to the car in defeat.

Naturally, I soon saw the snowy plovers. I can't say for sure they were at Lawton Street, but they very well could have been. Unlike the busily feeding sanderlings, the plovers were resting higher up the beach. A couple of dogs got them up and on the wing, but after swirling around a couple times, they would return to about the same patch of beach. 

More interesting than the dogs was a raven that tested the resting plovers the way a mountain lion tests a herd of bighorn sheep -- by swooping in to get them moving, in the hope that one of them is slow enough to go after. None of the plovers obliged this time, and the raven kept on going as the flock circled around and returned to their resting area.

I shot some video, but it was too shaky. Check out some video of snowy plovers I shot a long time ago using a tripod.

Bathing Sanderlings

Landing Zone

Preening & Resting Zone

Unlike the plovers, most of the sanderlings stayed down by the tide line as they rested. Every now and then a wave would wash up high enough to send them skittering up the beach, often hopping on one leg, casually wasting no energy.

Western Snowy Plovers Escaping A Chasing Dog

Small as they are, sanderlings are quite a bit larger than their cousins, the snowy plovers.

This little guy kept coming closer and closer, until I couldn't resist snapping a photo.

When the snowy plovers really settle down, they relax in little depressions in the sand. This one ducked down a little bit on semi-alert while a raven flew overhead.

Bracelets

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Bandless

 

Disappointed Red-Tailed Hawk

I was on the look-out for Marlon Bando as I rode toward the Cliff House, but the only light-pole hawk around was the more mature, unbanded one shown above. The hawk pounced from its perch above the Balboa Natural Area but missed its mark. My plan all along had been to try for a take-off photo, but I let myself get sidetracked by the still-present Say's phoebe, and the hawk took off before I could get back to it. 

As I was out and about today I was ruminating about a biography of Enrico Fermi that I recently plucked off my bookshelf to read again. I kept coming back to an experiment that Fermi did, and for which he won a Nobel Prize, that turned out weird in two ways. First, one of the very few women physicists back then, Lise Meitner, correctly interpreted the result of that experiment, which showed atomic fission for the first time. Fermi himself did not see it and kicked himself for the near miss. But the second thing is that Fermi won the Nobel for a result that did not actually happen -- that was in fact misinterpreted.

The interesting thing about all this, beyond the classic "d'oh!" moment, is that nobody knew back then that you could even split an atom. They were still working out what an atom even was. And after fission was accomplished, most physicists did not think it would be possible to get a chain reaction going. Fermi suggested that getting critical mass might require an amount of uranium the size of a small star! 

Anyway, I love reading about how we came to know what we know. We all take knowledge for granted that we didn't have a hundred years ago. And yet, even with all our civilizational knowledge, many individuals within that civilization continue to hold beliefs steeped in superstition, fantasy, and ignorance, even while enjoying all the benefits (and hazards) of hard-won scientific advancements. God is no doubt looking down at His people from His cloudscaped abode and having a "d'oh!" moment of His own.

Something about this morning's clear winter light coaxed me to fetch my camera out of the knapsack for this shot looking out over the Sunset District toward the zoo.

I was waiting for the Say's phoebe to turn its head so I could get a catchlight in its eye, when it suddenly took flight and I snapped this so-so lucky catch.

The boss hawk of the Great Highway late this morning was this mature, unbanded red-tail.

The rake artist was back today with a much larger canvas than the last time I saw him. The foreground picture is a fish about to bite a hook, while a fisherman has a line in the water nearby.

I had nowhere to be, so I stopped to watch the red-tail in its new spot on a light pole along the Esplanade. It eventually flew off in the other direction, swooping low as if to pounce, but aborting the take-down and rising up instead to land on a new pole. It's flight trajectory between poles cut a smooth, shallow sine wave.

This was the first time I've seen a snowy egret at Metson Lake. 

A northern shoveler drake appears to glance upward for possible danger at Blue Heron Lake before getting back to feeding by swirling in circles with a hen.

Cluster-shovelin'

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