Sunday, March 20, 2016

Mendocino County, California

Gigantic trees.  Driving through clouds.  Hairpin curves.  Insane drivers.  The tide.  Moss.  Hobos with dogs.  Rain.  Banana slugs.  Poison oak.  Small towns.  Hitchhikers.  All of the things that define Mendocino County.

Here is a (mostly) pictorial summary of our five-day trip to the stunningly-beautiful Mendocino region of northern California last week.  We were situated on the coast, walking distance to tide pools and loads of seashells (and colorful iridescent abalone shell fragments), and a short ride to the upland redwood forests that make this region so famous.

This is where a river flows right into the Pacific Ocean.  We visited a beach at least once a day despite nearly constant rain (or threat of rain).  This particular beach was a popular hang out spot for California gulls and black oystercatchers.
The temperate rainforests that occur just a stone's throw from the coast are entrancing.  This is what fairy tales are made of.



                                 
 The banana slugs were out in moderate numbers.  We didn't see any really big ones, but a few decent-sized slugs made their may across the forest floor, or, as here, atop plants such as ferns (and once, on a stinging nettle).
The first salamander of the trip was this tiny California slender salamander (Batrachoseps attenuatus).  I found about six altogether, all under logs.  Most interesting was their variation, and perhaps coincidentally, their color corresponded with that of the log they were under.
The California slender salamander is a plethodontid (lungless) salamander.  It coils into a little puck when it feels threatened.
The western Trillium (Trillium ovatum).  This delicate flower seems to be common along the spongy-wet forest floor, wherever shade is abundant.
Why did the banana slug cross the road?  
Picturesque waterfalls such as this were all over the place.  There were so many, that no attention is given to any particular fall.  Anywhere else, just one of these would justify a trip.
The rivers were higher and faster than usual due to the recent bombardment of rain the area had experienced.  As the trip progressed, the rivers would rise even higher and become more turbid.
Ferns, ferns, everywhere.
Here's an amphibian I've long dreamed of finding - an ensatina.  This one in particular is an Ensatina e. eschscholtzii, the Monterey salamander.  It was found among a pile of dead lakeside vegetation, very close to the ocean. The ensatinas are a widespread and extremely variable species.  This was the biggest of the salamanders I'd find on the trip.
At the coast, the ground was covered in blooming succulents.
These tide pools were created when people used this beach as a dump long ago.  Trash was burned here, resulting in twisted, mangled pieces of metal that formed the basis for these tide pools (most of what you see in the foreground is not rock, but actually melted garbage covered in algae).  In addition, the glass that was disposed on these beaches broke, and over time the wave action smoothed the pieces into sea glass.  A few of the beaches here contain so much of this sea glass that they are named "Glass Beach".
Sea glass, with a few pebbles mixed in.
A thriving anemone in a tide pool formed by refuse.
A highlight of the trip was our excursion into a pygmy forest.  I really liked learning about the forest, and discovering all of the endemic tree species that occur only here or in a very restricted range in this part of the state.


Some of the boardwalks were flooded due to all the rain.  Check out my 5+ month pregnant wife navigate her way across the water like an American Gladiator.  She made it across unscathed.
I had the pleasure of meeting another field herper in the area, Michael Ray Spencer.  He showed me an area near his house where I could find newts.  It was a really nice park, but not a minute into our arrival and greeting, the rain came, and came steadily.  We trudged on regardless - we had newts to find.  And the rain is actually what made it easy for us (er, Aimee) to spot newts, as they were bumbling around throughout the area.  But first, we found a number of these black salamanders (Aneides flavipunctatus), a species considered near-threatened by the IUCN.  In some areas, this species is all black, but in others, there are varying amounts of grey or white speckling.  
Here is one of a few red-bellied newts (Taricha rivularis) Aimee spotted on the crawl as Michael and I were busy flipping rocks.  These newts do not sit still for even a moment, and their unwillingness to do so, plus the rain, made it really difficult to get a good photo.  The red-bellied newt is one of three species of newts in the area.  It has, by far, the most restricted range of the three.
And here is a California newt (Taricha torosa), again, one of several seen.  These were just as difficult as the red-bellieds.  These enjoy a decidedly larger range, but are just as deadly.  These newts contain tetrodotoxin, a highly potent poison that is strong enough to kill an adult human, but only if eaten.  Brief handling of these newts with wet hands is generally safe.

Let me tell you about the coast redwoods (Sequoia sempervirens).  Redwoods are not pine trees, but instead are related to cypress.  They grow in a thin strip near the coast and are quenched by the thick fog that rolls in from the ocean. We drove and hiked past many of them, and they are otherworldly.  The redwood forests in the Mendocino region are in varying stages of succession.  Some areas contained smaller (though still huge by my standards) trees in tighter quarters, others contained ancient towers, as wide around as a car, spaced out with more room in between.  These trees have attracted loggers for almost two centuries, and humans are responsible for the destruction of the vast majority of all the virgin redwood forests.  The few virgin stands left simply have to be seen to be appreciated.  No photo I nor anyone else can provide can accurately convey the sheer size, power, and strength these trees possess.  There are sad reminders of our covetous past in these forests - massive stumps that dwarf even some of the largest living examples.  Stumps so large, that you could probably land helicopters on them.  The coast redwood is classified as an endangered species, primarily due to the small number of virgin forests left, in relation to the more common successive forests (many of which are still logged to this day).  Historic photos (circa 1915) courtesy of www.amusingplanet.com.

These are younger redwoods, growing in a grouping pattern.

This is what I as an uneducated redwood admirer would consider to be a medium-sized tree.  Rotting stumps, leftovers from a bygone era of unequivocal disrespect for the forests, were much greater in circumference and indicate that this forest once supported true giants.

Back at the beach, a California gull near sunset.
Aimee
Wave-tumbled fragment of red abalone (Haliotis rufescens) shell among other beach pebbles.
One more stop before our departure and resuming of our everyday life in the city - San Fransisco.  More rain, but at least we had some time to check out some sights.  These California sea lions (Zalophus californianus) kept hordes of tourists entertained while it rained on and on and on.  This group stole a pier from boaters and the city has allowed the sea lions to stay, redirecting boat owners elsewhere (score one for nature!).  I really enjoyed watching these animals interact with each other.  A lot of growling, snorting, harassing, complaining, and sleeping overall.  They reminded me a little of dogs, and that made me a little homesick.  



Saturday, March 19, 2016

February snakes

It's been a mild late winter.  As I write this, it's actually officially the first day of spring, though it felt springy a lot over the last month or so.  Scattered days with temperatures reaching the 40s, 50s, and 60s.  A lot of rain, too - the chorus frogs were calling in early to mid February in a few locations, followed by leopard frogs.  Salamanders were on the move early in March, and at times as early as late February.  The vernal ponds in northern Cook County were still partially frozen when I found my first herps of the year (not including the ever-active mudpuppies) in late February, three Chicago garter snakes and a handful of central newts.  Here's a brief report from a mild, sunny day in late February in Cook County.
My first reptile of the year, as found.  A fresh out of brumation Chicago garter snake (Thamnophis sirtalis semifasciatus).


 Later, I saw two more garter snakes, a male and a female in very close proximity (though not close enough to reasonable fit both in the frame).  Here is one of them in-situ.
 At least I didn't get skunked.

New life

I'm having a baby.

Ok, wait, I'm not having a baby, my wife is having a- WE are having a baby!  Well golly gee, HOW DID THAT HAPPEN??  (That's a rhetorical question, by the way.)

As our baby is due in July, life is beginning to change little by little (and soon enough by A LOT).  We've talked a lot about moving out of our God-forsaken neighborhood.  Probably the city, too.  Things have become pretty lousy over here in Chicago - politically and socially.  We've grown tired of constant tax increases and crime.  Tired of traffic, tired of living right under the landing path for airplanes coming to O'Hare, tired of the jerky sort of people who like to throw their construction garbage and broken concrete chunks into my garbage can.  Tired of being afraid to walk my dog at night, not knowing if each car that approaches slowly is going to produce thugs with guns demanding my money (BTW, if there are any thugs reading this, I never carry cash on me, so don't waste your time).  This very morning, I was told by my neighbor that her husband's work van was stolen right out in front of my house hours before.  Is my car next?

I was raised in the city.  Barriers were never really a "thing" - either my mom didn't know that I was running all over the place, or she didn't care (I like to think it was the former).  I played on the railroad tracks, for goodness sakes.  Went to the local forest preserves, which were riddled with all sorts of non-kosher people.  And I turned out all right, I think.  But these aren't the 80s and 90s anymore.  The world constantly changes, and fortunately we are in a situation where we are able to relocate to a safer and probably more wonderful area to raise a child.  I think a place with woodlands in the vicinity would be great.  Preferably a stream where we can use dipnets to catch small fish and frogs.  Teach our child about the natural world in a place that better resembles the natural world.  Too many kids, SO many kids, just don't have that opportunity or that model.  There is little respect for nature.  The urge to explore is now satiated solely through video games and tablets.  The outside world must seem so dangerous to the kids today, since they receive all of their experiences of it through scary movies and/or sensationalized, false claims.  We've alienated our kids from nature. As George Carlin wondered, "When does a kid ever get to sit in the yard and play with a stick anymore?  Do today's kids even know what a stick is??"

So even though there is a growing trend of kids raised "safely", away from the perils of the outdoors (pointy objects be damned), there will be at least one more coming around really soon that will be raised otherwise.  I will encourage getting a little dirty.  I'm a strong believer in the hygiene hypothesis - keeping kids in an overly sterile environment can lead to a multitude of allergies and sensitivities.  We aren't slobs - we are very clean, organized, civilized human beings.  But I'll be damned if it's a gorgeous day outside and my child is inside, bored.  That kid is going to climb trees and jump in big piles of leaves.

Leaves with slugs in them.  God help us.