Author: corvidsketcher

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Toucans

No bird, with the possible exception of the macaw, is the quintessential neo-tropic poster bird than the toucan. These large birds with massive colorful bills, look back at us from tourist brochures, boxes of sugar-coated cereal, and Guiness beer ads. Almost everyone, from around the world, can identify this bird, even if they have not seen one flying in the wild. I was finally going to see one!

Our first stop after leaving our hotel in the outskirts of San Jose was La Selva Biological Station. La Selva was the first private reserve and field station in Costa Rica, it’s genesis going back to 1953, decades before the rise of ecotourism. The birding at La Selva is sensational, the reserve logging 467 species of birds and the reserve includes half a million species including plants and trees, mammals, reptiles, amphibians, and insects.

On our morning walk to the dining hall, we passed through the forest. We approached a clearing in the canopy and I saw am unmistakable black-bodied, large-billed bird, “Toucan!”, I exclaimed. It was a yellow-throated toucan (Ramphastos ambiguus). In the same tree, flew in another toucan, the collared aracari (Pteroglossus torquatus). Not a bad haul for our morning walk.

A yellow-throated toucan perched in a clearing near out lodgings at La Selva. Even from a distance, these birds stand out.

 

The collared aracari. This individual was attacked by a tropical kingbird. While fruit make up a large portion of it’s diet, nest robbing is also one of it’s sources of food.

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Hotel Robledal

The Hotel Robledal is about 20 minutes from the airport, along the narrow back streets of San Jose. Open fronted markets, barber shops, and houses blurred past as the hotel shuttle made it’s way in streets full of motorbikes, people, and dogs.

I had arrived in Costa Rica a day early before my birding tour started and I hoped the birding was good from the hotel grounds. I had already seen blue and white swallows circling above the roads.

Within minutes of arrival at the Robledal, I was birding the grounds, turning up a few old Texas friends, the great kiskadee, long-tailed grackle, and the National Bird of Costa Rica,  clay-colored thrush. To these I added social and boat-billed flycatcher. I scanned the skies hoping to see a raptor, perhaps a laughing falcon but they only yielded black vultures.

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A poolside clay-colored thrush, National Bird of CR, at the Hotel Robledal.

These familiar birds where joined by others that remained unidentified. Two of which were hummingbirds that did not sit still long enough to observe details. I was able to id a Hoffman’s woodpecker that was working it’s way up a trunk and the stunning rufous-naped wrens were practically a yard bird here. Our guide dubbed these birds “rapper wrens” for their songs. A white-winged dove was sitting on a nest and some Inca doves were in the process of building theirs. Beyond the back fence, a  melodious blackbird was tending eggs on a stick nest while a nearby snag was always bearing the fruits of tropical birds. None was as stunning as the two parrots that visited in the late afternoons and early mornings.

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A pair of yellow-naped Amazons in the snag in the back garden of Hotel Robledal.

During diner I sat down with some of the family that owned the Robledal to watch the Costa Rica National Team play French Guiana in the Gold Cup. Fútbol or soccer as we call it, is the national obsession in CR, where every town of any size has a fútbol pitch. In the second half Marco Ureña was subbed on and one of brothers turned to me and said, “You see that player? He lives down the street from me.”

Costa Rica is a small country, full of birds and fútbol!

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Florida Canyon

I meet my guide at the point where Madera Canyon Road turns sharply to the left towards Green Valley and the dirt road begins to the right. We loaded a cooler filled with water and snacks into my rental black Volkswagen Jetta. (How could they give me a black car in the middle of an Arizona summer?!)

The car was surprisingly low to the ground in a part of the country that is crisscrossed with dirt roads in various states of maintenance. On a previous trip I had driven over the Chiricahua Mountains, and being from California, I wondered when the paved road was going to start. It never did.

Our destination this morning was Florida Canyon (pronounced Flor-ee-da) and our target bird was ( as David Allen Sibley puts it, a “very rare visitor from Mexico to southern Arizona”), the rufous-capped warbler (Basileuterus rufifrons). This long-tailed small warbler with a stunning facial pattern is not just a visitor to Arizona but a breeder. In Florida Canyon there could possibly be seven pairs on territory.

We started up the trail and it didn’t take long for my guide to pause and listen. He had heard something off to the right, a bird foraging in the trees. He called in a little gray long-tailed puff of a bird. it was another “rare visitor from Mexico”, the black-capped gnatcatcher (Poliotila nigriceps). A great lifer and another tick off my target bird list! This gnatcatcher was now breeding in a few locations in Arizona, including Florida Canyon.

On our way up the dry creek bed, my guide pointed out a tarantula hawk. He noted that the wasp was not aggressive to humans but it’s sting was second only to the bullet ant of Central America according to the Schmidt sting pain index. Both bullet ants and tarantula hawks received a score of 4 which represents the most painful sting on the pain index (a honey bee is rated at 2). So we gave the wasp a wide berth.

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We headed further up the canyon on a trail that was blazed by birders in their pursuit of the highly sought after rufous-capped warbler. We stopped, looked and listened. No dice. We headed further in and did the same, still no dice. We continued up canyon and as my guide was pointing out a larger boulder, I spotted the warbler than appeared a few feet above his head. It’s facial pattern was unmistakable. Rufous-capped warbler! Lifer!

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Feathery Fireworks

July 4 was my first full day in Arizona. I was staying at the legendary birding hotspot the Santa Rita Lodge in Madera Canyon. I awoke early with the intention of adding one elusive quail to my lifelist.

Montezuma quail (Cyrtonyx montezumae) is a Southeast Arizona marquee bird. It is a bird that many birder’s attempt to see in this area. Most birders, if they are lucky,  only see the quail briefly as it is flushes, flying away from the viewer. Pete Dunne notes that the Montezuma, “Spends most of its life not being seen.” On two previous visits, Montezuma’s has evaded my view.

On the 4th, I arose early and walked five minutes to the Madera Picnic Area. It was 5:50 AM and there was already a car in the parking lot. It’s owner was a Tucson birder that was looking over Madera Creek into the hillside. I figured that is was always a good sign. I walked up besides him and he said, “Montezuma quail” and directed my view to a point halfway up the hillside.

The cryptic quail eluded my search until the male moved, his harlequin face pattern flashing on the hillside. The female also appeared as the two quail worked along the hillside. I followed then upstream, keeping them in view for a full 15 minutes!  A one point the two headed down to the creekside. This was a quality lifer with absolutely quality looks!

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This photo will not win any wildlife photography awards but it is a definitive proof that I was looking at the elusive Montezuma quail.

Later I headed south to the small town of Saint David to finally close out North American kites. In this small area, pockets of Mississippi kites where summer breeders. I came to Golden Bell Road and turned right. The road then turned 90 degrees to the north becoming S. Miller Lane. Halfway down the lane I spotted the unmistakable shape of a Mississippi kite. At one point I had three birds soaring above me. I saw one bird fly into the top of a tall cottonwood. I moved closer to investigate. There was a kite perched in the high branches and to its left was a stick nest with a bird on it! Great find.

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A perched Mississippi kite to the right and a nest on the left.

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Southeast Arizona 

Southeast Arizona, a true Mecca for birders from around the world. Montezuma quail, Lucifer’s hummingbird, black-capped gnatcatcher, rufous-capped warbler, five-striped sparrow are all highly sought after birds which many birders, after many visits,  have failed to add to their lifelists. These are some of the needles in the haystacks that birders dream about. And my dreams were about to become a reality.

I have birded Southeastern Arizona twice before but only during the winter, when snowbirds double the populations of most towns and cities of the desert. Back then I added some of the most obvious and easiest to find species to my list. Now I have returned in the stifling temps of summer to try and add some of the most emblematic and rarest species to my ABA (American Birding Association) list. And to do this, I needed a little help.

Now driving on the rutted dirtroads of the boarder lands of the United States and Mexico, is not something one should do alone or at night so hiring a birder with knowledge of the area in a high clearance vehicle, is a must.

Enter a twitcher from Leicester, England who know California Gulch like the back of his hand and where individual five-striped sparrow pairs are to be located.

Twitch on!

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Extreme Hammocking

Now that I had successfully hammocked over a ragging Gold Country creek I thought it was time to raise the stakes.

From my cabin base camp in the Santa Cruz Mountains, I headed upstream with my hammock, a book (Birds of Tropical America), and an adult beverage. It was time for some serious hammocking and I was planning to hammock over the mighty San Lorenzo River, Santa Cruz County’s largest river!

At just under 30 miles, the San Lorenzo River does not make the top 10 of the longest rivers in California (or the top 25 for that matter), but in December 1955, this river was a force to be reckoned with and with massive rainfall she jumped her banks and flooded downtown Santa Cruz. Now earthen dykes have been built up in order to tame her wintery wanderings.

The winter of 2016-17 have seen record rains and the river has stayed within her water course. But as I hiked upstream I noticed the toll that the high water level had metered out to the trees in the riparian flood zone. So many of the trees were now leaning downstream, almost at a vertical angle and some trees had been completely uprooted. Now this was going to be a challenge because I needed two vertical trees close enough together to pitch my hammock and I wasn’t seeing many.

Once I entered Henry Cowell State Park, I spotted a large, fallen redwood. This looked promising, now all I needed was a parallel fallen tree to attach the other end of the hammock. About 12 feet away was a smaller bay laurel that would do the job. And within 5 minutes, I was hammocking!

The Doublenest pitched between two vertical trees, with the mighty San Lorenzo River flowing below. The smaller bay laurel provided some bounce.

A sketcher in repose, Henry Cowell State Park.

 

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Summertime and the Living is Easy

For a teacher, the summer is a time to find the angle of repose. To lay back, gaze at the summer blue and perhaps reflect on the past school year, or not. To travel, or not. But to recharge our batteries and be refreshed for the new year when 29 new faces that will be looking my way in August.

But right now I am content to lay back, the creek flowing underneath, and try to find coolness in the 103 degree afternoons of the foothills. I open my sketchbook and start sketching my feet, the two twin foundations that keeps me upright, even when I’m downright.

This creek runs parallel to my mother’s house in California’s Gold Country, along side the stone wall that was built by Chinese immigrants in the 1850s. And there is no better way to find the angle of repose than some extreme hammocking.

Hammocking, now who knew that laying down on a piece of stretched fabric was now a verb? When I bought my ENO Doublenest Hammock at REI the cashier asked, “Hammocking huh?” Now was this a trick question ? In the age of youtube stars and fail videos, almost anything can become an extreme sport, even the relaxing and passive inaction of resting in a hammock.

A wild turkey contemplating the pros and cons of extreme hammocking.

I suppose I could hang my hammock twenty feet up. But I wanted to keep out of the running for the Darwin Awards (think natural selection) and use it for its less extreme advantages: relaxing.

Finding repose on a beach on the Middle Fork of the American River near French Meadows Reservoir.

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Bend But Don’t Break

The South Fork of the American River was alive and kicking during our late May visit to the Coloma Outdoor Discovery School (CODS). The roar of the record Sierra snowmelt as it passed over Troublemaker rapids, just upstream from the CODS campus, drown out the raucous calls of the carpentaros, working on their granary tree.

As was my usual habit, I rose with the quail and headed out to sketch, before all 85 fourth graders were up and about. I wanted to sketch the old iron Coloma Bridge (1917). This was the bridge that brought us from the small town of Coloma, across the American ( just upstream from the gold “discovery ” site) to the CODS campus.

I found a picnic bench and started sketching. Some sketches turn into a labryinth of lines that test my powers of perspective so I took another sip of coffee, turned the page, and turned 90 degrees to the left.

A quick riverside sketch of the bank at CODS that is now under water as a Canada goose looks on.

I though I’d sketch something more organic: the river itself. The South Fork of the American seemed to be barely contained within its banks. Now here was a metaphor (a comparison I frequently point out to fourth graders). Trees, young saplings, where bent, their green leaves almost touching the rushing waters. These young ones had survived one of the river’s bigger deluges. Just as my fourth graders had stood tall this year, especially at Coloma. They’ve had to battle late spring high temps, mosquitos, the intricacies of the Virginia Reel, the fear of the unknown, not finding enough gold in the diggins, not getting the top bunk, and homesickness.  Bend but don’t break,  and like these saplings, they stood tall.

These trees and my students inspired a poem which I added to my river sketch (painted of course with the waters of the American).

 

In the year of the deluge

Tree bend but don’t break.

Roots covered in swollen waters

Reminds me of my charges

Struggling to stand tall

Against forces bent to topple.

Bend but don’t break,

Is all I can offer,

Bend but don’t break

As green, new growth

Implores the early morning sun

To shine and I say “shine”.

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Torn Asunder

The S S Palo Alto, also known as the “Cement Ship” is a Monterey Bay oddity from my childhood, up there with Santa’s Village, Lost World, and the Mystery Spot.

The S S Palo Alto was a concrete ship built in Oakland at the end of World War I and launched in 1919, too late to take part in the war.

The ship was mothballed until it was purchased by the Seacliff Amusement Company and towed to Monterey Bay in 1930. It was sunk in shallow water, at Seacliff Beach, her bow pointing West towards the Pacific.

It was opened as an amusement ship with dining, a dance hall, and swimming pool and a pier was built out to the ship. The timing could not have been worse because it’s opening coincided with the start of the Great Depression. The ship cracked in half during a storm in 1932 and the ship was closed to access. It was eventually sold to the state for one dollar.

Over the years the ship has been torn apart. Recently, powerful winter storms including one in February 2016 pushed the ship onto it’s starboard side and then on January 21, 2017 the stern was torn off and now rests leaning on it’s port side.

A September 14, 2012 sketch of the S S Palo Alto in slightly better times. This sketch is of the ship’s starboard side and the gash from the 1932 storm is clearly visible. The bow has fallen away but the stern in intact.

Thousands of sooty shearwaters (Ardenna grisea) pass south off the bow of the wrecked Palo Alto.

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April 15, 1974

The health clinic at 1450 Noriega Street is a few blocks from where I live in San Francisco’s Sunset District. It’s an unassuming building at the corner of Noriega and 22nd Avenue with a Bank of America ATM on the corner and a bucolic mural painted on one side. When you pass by the building, you would never know it was the location of one of the most notorious crimes of the 1970’s. 

In 1974, 1450 Noriega was the Sunset Branch of the Hibernia Bank. And it was here, at 9:40 AM, that this branch was robbed. Now a bank robbery is not a notorious crime in itself but one of the gun-wielding robbers made this such a notable crime. The story really started  across the Bay on February 4, 1974 on Benvenue Avenue in Berkeley.

An Apartment on Benzene Avenue was the setting of the kidnapping of Patricia Hearst, granddaughter of newspaper publisher William Randolph Hearst. She was then a 19 year old student at the University of California when she was kidnapped by The United Federated Forces of the Symbionese Liberation Army (SLA). What happened from the moment she was kidnapped and the time she walked into the Hibernia Bank, 71 days later,  with a sawed-off M1 carbine rifle, remains shrouded in speculation and mystery. Was Patty Hearst brainwashed or did she willingly because a member of the SLA?

Before her star turn on the security cameras of the Hibernia Bank, she said in a communique that was sent to local radio stations :

I have been given the choice of, one, being released in a safe area, or, two, joining the forces of the Symbionese Liberation Army and fighting for my freedom and the freedom of all oppressed people. I have chosen to stay and fight. 

We do know that she changed her name to “Tania” and when she was eventually arrested, over a year later, she listed her occupation as “urban guerrilla”.

A painting from one of the most iconic images of the 1970’s: Patty Hearst, Tania, wielding a gun at the Hibernia Bank. Painted from a still from the security camera footage from April 15, 1974.

About the Hibernia Bank robbery Hearst said in a communiqué sent to a local radio stations:

Greetings to the people. This is Tania. Our action of April 15  forced the corporate state to help finance the revolution. As for been brainwashed, the idea is ridiculous to the point of being beyond belief. I am a soldier in the People’s Army.

I usually see the health clinic as the number 7-Haight/Noriega inbound bus makes a left turn onto 22nd Avenue. I imagine most passengers never realize what happened here, over 40 years ago. Indeed the events surrounding the Hearst kidnapping and her participation with the SLA proves the point that reality really is stranger than fiction.