Early Morning is for the Birds

I love waking up just before sunrise, sitting on the deck with a cup of coffee, and watching the birds appear one by one at my feeders.  There's a whole pecking order--no pun intended (or is there?)--as they busily feed first thing in the morning.  Size does matter in this case.  The tinier birds, even though larger in number, still make way for bigger birds. 

First to feed are the red-topped Acorn Woodpeckers.  Very skittish, they slowly and painstakingly make their way to the suet feeder, looking around constantly, ready to take flight with even the slightest of movement.  Their undulating flight back to their home tree across the way is a joy to watch.  Like dolphins in water, they dip and rise and dip and rise.

                             

Next to come, and in large numbers, are the Lesser Goldfinches who cling to the thistle sock feeders even in the fiercest of winds.  One day I counted thirty-five at once!  Like bees swarming at a hive, they fight to find a spot on the feeder and won't let go, except to take turns getting a drink of water.

                            

                         

                                        

Once the Northern Flickers arrive, the Goldfinches step aside--literally!  Usually they take flight to the nearest branch or wire, but sometimes they line up on the deck railing and wait their turn.  (See them lined up to the right.)                 

                        

          When all's clear, they swoop back and feed.                       

In addition a few other birds frequent my feeders.  House Finches, Sparrows, Purple Finches, Grosbeaks, and Nuthatches.                 
                                 

While our stunning though noisy Stellar Jays make an occasional appearance on my deck, they prefer to find their own food, stopping by for a drink now and then.
                                    

And even though I have a hummingbird feeder, wouldn't you know, they prefer the more natural source!  My hibiscus--which did so beautifully on my deck through summer and fall, with blossom after blossom.  I intend to buy several (from Lowes) next year!

Just recently I've been visited by some new guests that, like the Lesser Goldfinches, travel in large groups.  They are called Band-tailed Pigeons, a species once reduced in numbers due to overhunting, but now coming back strong.    They struggle to get the seed from the feeders--so I toss some on the ground for them.  They also take turns at the water bowl.

                                   
                                    
It's late October now, and I can't help but wonder how much longer the birds will stay, and which, if any, will remain through winter.  I can't imagine how any could survive. But I'm ready to watch and learn...and write!

Our Backyard Forest

 It still amazes me that the San Bernardino National Forest is practically our backyard.  There is one street above us and then the forest.  To get to the forest trail, we simply walk along our access road about seven houses down, cut up a little path, and, voila, there is the trail.

                                  

It's a lovely, leisurely stroll that breaks into a fork and curves northwest and northeast toward the 173 in both directions. Mt. Baldy can be seen in the distance and is stunning when snow-peaked.

                                  

                                  

                      

                                    Along this trail we came across a natural chaise lounge.

It is now a destination and popular photo spot!

Judging from the claw marks ? or man-made notches ? on the bottom, it has been visited many times.

 We are still in awe of our surroundings.  Living up here never loses its luster.

                                  
                                  
                                   

But I have to admit, as we ride out the fire season, I hold my breath.

Mom's Trees: Literally Out My Back Door

The summer that my mom died in 2005, my sister and dad and I took a drive to Ouaquaga, New York to see my mom's childhood home.  Across the street from the house on what was their land were two lovely trees in front of a vineyard.  Of the many photos I took that day, this one ended up as the desktop photo on my laptop computer.  Of course each time I turned on my computer, I thought of my mom, and so these trees became for me, "Mom's Trees."                                     

Early this summer--my first summer in our new home here in Lake Arrowhead--I was sitting at my desk in front of my open laptop looking out the window, and this is what I saw in my yard below: Two trees identical to those in the photo on my computer!  The trunks of each tree branch similarly to Mom's trees.  The one on the left has two trunks that each branch in a Y.  The one on the right has a thin trunk and a thicker trunk. 

I hadn't noticed them before because when we moved here, they were leafless, and then in spring, the tree on the left was covered in pink blossoms. Now that the blossoms were gone and both trees had filled out, the similarity was quite amazing.  I sat for a few moments glancing first at the laptop photo and then back out the window until I ran to get my husband and then my camera. (If you click on the pictures to enlarge them you can see what I mean.)             

                     

So now each day, as I sit and write and look out my back door, I see Mom's Trees, and they make me feel, more and more, like I'm home.

Oh Bats!

For the last few weeks, I have been entertained nightly.  The opening act is none other than my ravens who fly from one end of the lake to the other and beyond just before the sun sets.  But they are just the warm-up act, for soon after, as the light begins to fade, out come the bats--and their display is awe-inspiring.  What magnificent maneuverability!  They swoop and swerve and dart and dip, and then, try as I do to keep my eye on them, they disappear.  I gave up trying to follow them with my binoculars, and as for catching a photograph, well the best I could do was this picture I took in a store in Big Bear where they had a number of creatures in glass for sale!

Now up close they may look creepy, but they really are pretty fascinating little mammals. When I first noticed them a couple of weeks ago, I feverishly looked for a book I read about ten years ago called, Owls Aren't Wise and Bats Aren't Blind by Warner Shedd (2000).  As the title suggests, this book corrects a number of myths.  For instance, bats are not blind.  They can see quite well, but when flying in the dark they rely on their "echolocation" ability.  By emitting high-frequency sound pulses, they can identify the size and location of objects around them as these impulses bounce back to their highly sensitive ears.  Shedd states, "So remarkably rapid and precise is this echolocation system that a bat can fly through a maze of wires strung throughout a totally dark room."  Mission Impossible-style!

Now if you think they are heading straight for your hair, don't panic.  They are most probably focused on an insect that is about to take a bite out of you.  It's not your hair...or your neck...that they're after, but the mosquito.  And once they have that mosquito, they will pivot mid-air and be on their way.  They are incredible fliers due to  a unique wing structure that is different from a bird's.  Where a bird has a wing supported by the bones of an arm and a single finger, the bat's wing has the bones of an arm and four elongated fingers and it's attached to the tiny hind legs--giving it that webbed look.  This structure gives it an incredible maneuverability that makes it such a thrill to watch.

As for the rabies myth, Shedd calls this an enormous exaggeration.  And here's why.  Rabid animals transmit the disease in the final stage only, and there are two kinds of behavior associated with this final stage.  The "dumb" phase in which an animal is lethargic and loses control of its movements and the "furious" phase in which an animal attacks anything around it (like dogs foaming at the mouth).  Bats exhibit the dumb stage only and do not exhibit the furious stage, which means that you would have to be acting in a dumb manner by handling a bat in the dumb phase of the disease in order to be bitten!  Bats do not attack and bite humans randomly.  Shedd points out that in Austin, Texas "a million and a half bats have roosted under a bridge in downtown Austin for years, and large numbers of Austin residents and tourist regularly gather to watch their nightly exodus, yet not a single person in the area has contracted rabies."

Now there's one more reason that you should welcome these flying mammals: "One bat can eat several thousand insects in a single night."  Think of all of the mosquitoes...or should I say mosquito-bites.

A few more interesting facts: They generally bear just a single young per year.  They can live up to twenty to thirty years.  They hang upside down so they can see approaching danger and spring into instant flight.  As for flying like a bat out of hell?  I doubt you'll find them there.  They are delightful little critters that are sure to find their way over, around or through those pearly gates.

No One Told Us about the Fog and Wind!

Let me begin with the fog.  Sometimes it is so thick you can't see the house next door, and worse, when you're driving the winding mountain road, you often can't see beyond the hood of your car.  Can't see the car ahead of you. Can't see a car approaching.  Can't see the lines in the road.  Very scary indeed, especially when you need to make a left turn!  Best advice is don't drive in that kind of fog.  Unfortunately, there are times that you just have to, and I have a few unforgetable times.  I learned a few detours through Twin Peaks and Crestline, but they don't always help.  In short, there are times that lookin' out my back door, I can't see a darn thing.

Consequently this has ruined a few special occasions, Mother's Day being one.  My son drove up from San Diego on Saturday, but by Sunday the fog was so bad my daughter couldn't make it up at all.  The barbecue we had planned was not as pleasant as I'd imagined.  It was sooo cold that even when the fog receded for a few minutes and we could dash out to the deck to barbecue, well, it was freezing

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But we did manage to cook our chicken after all.

Now the WIND is another story.  Unlike the fog that is an occasional problem, the wind--at least up here on the north side of the lake at the top of the mountain--is an almost daily challenge. Now I have to admit that we asked for it in a way.  We chose to live above the treetops with a wide-open deck that gives us a stunning view of the mountains and lake--a gorgeous photo-worthy view.  But with it comes wind, sometimes mildly annoying and sometimes downright fierce. 

I love sitting on the deck but the sun can be intense, so we installed a retractable awning and placed an umbrella in our patio table.  Unfortunately, when the wind is even mildly annoying, it can damage the awning or launch the umbrella clear off the deck.  

Then there are the house-shaking fierce winds that no one told us about when we bought the house.  In fact, our first night here after a grueling day of loading and unloading and unpacking, we collapsed into bed only to hear the wind howling outside, slamming the patio furniture across the deck, and making a racket in the chimney of our master bedroom fireplace.  Needless to say we couldn't sleep and even questioned if we made the right decision.  Would we be able to feel at home here?
 
Yet now--eight months later--I have to admit that the wind is winning me over.  I love to watch the trees as they sway and bend, especially the aspens that stretch in a graceful arc, and to listen to the sound of the leaves as they quiver and murmur, a gentle shushing sound that soothes and calms.  Even the harsher howls have a power that reminds me that there is a greater force at work somewhere out there.
 
Native Americans see the wind as a divine messenger, a sacred force and energy that we should listen to and respect. Well, I'm beginning to listen, and with the utmost respect.

Happy Creatures Dancing on the Lawn

(Most of these photos were taken at Wildhhaven Ranch, a wildlife sanctuary for endangered and indigenous wild animals.  http://www.wildhaven.org/   )

I've lived here eight months now, and while I haven't found myself surrounded by lions, tigers and bears, I have seen a few incredible "creatures dancing on the lawn."  One of my first mornings here when I was so excited I would jump out of bed at 5:30 to watch the sunrise, I was thrilled to see a Great Horned Owl land on the deck's railing.  He was huge and so regal.  He (or she) just sat there for about one full minute and then took flight.  I haven't seen one since.

The next week, this would be December before the snow, my husband and I saw a bobcat slowly meandering across our back yard--in the middle of the afternoon. He continued on up the side of the house and then crossed in front.  He was slightly larger than a house cat, but very muscular with pointed, notched ears.
                                              

We were used to seeing coyotes in Los Angeles, so when I came across one on our access road, I wasn't too concerned. He returned a few times, sniffing and snooping around, even came down our driveway, but he did scare easily when I shouted. While I wouldn't linger with my dog Chloe near him, he didn't seem terribly aggressive.

Of course there were the frequent hawk and the rare but spectacular eagle sightings.
                                         

      

But the best was when I saw my first bear!  I was driving up the mountain on the 18 in what is called by locals "the narrows"--two lanes between the mountain cliff walls and the drop off to the valley below.  Just two car lengths ahead, a very large bear lumbered across the road and over the edge.  I desperately wanted to rewind and watch again in slow motion!  Quick as it was, it was still thrilling.

Least thrilling was coming across this critter when I was walking my dog in our front yard.  At first I freaked thinking it might be a rattler, but on closer inspection, it looked like a gopher snake.  Since we have plenty of gophers to keep him around, looks like he'll be one of my happy creatures dancing on our lawn!

Our Sweet Swallows

Shortly after the arrival of Spring, a swallow's nest of mud and clay appeared under the eaves on the side of our house.  Fortunately it was located in an area rarely travelled so bird poop below was not an inconvenience.  What fun it was watching the small mates flying back and forth--especially active early morning and twilight.  They were little brown and tan birds with a touch of pale yellow. 

A few weeks later we had a cold spell that was close to freezing with fierce winds. To my horror, I discovered two dead baby birds on the deck with a bit of mud scattered around them. Had they died and been pushed out by their parents to leave the remaining healthy babes to thrive? 

I had noticed more than two swallows flying to the nest recently.  After doing a bit of research, I learned that other juvenile swallows will raid other nests to steal the food brought for the babies.  So perhaps their deaths were a result of decreasing food supply, as well as cold and wind.

About a week after that, we had another fierce storm with heavy winds and rain.  The next morning, as I stepped out on my deck to enjoy the clear skies and warm sun, I noticed my swallows frantically flying back and forth, making a noise that can only be described as a panicked cry for help.  I dashed to the side to discover the entire nest smashed to pieces and three dead babies.  Worse than this sight was watching helplessly as the parents repeatedly flew to the site of their nest crying out over and over again--not just that day, but for several days afterwards.

On occasion, they still swoop up and perch under the eaves and just sit.  I wonder if they'll build there again or if their intuition will tell them that that is definitely not a good spot.

I am seeing on a daily basis that while there is beauty and joy in nature, there is also tragedy and heartbreak.