Category Archives: wildlife

After the Woolsey Fire: Malibu Creek State Park March 2019

Malibu Creek State Park following the Woolsey Fire and heavy Winter rains.

Parked in a turnout on Mulholland Hwy, I finished putting on sunscreen and then pushed the Start/Stop button on my watch to dial in the GPS and pair my HRM. Outside, it was a chilly 43 degrees. Sunrise was nearing and the strengthening March sun was forecast to push temps well into the 70s.

In the aftermath of Woolsey Fire, I’d returned to Malibu Creek State Park to see the wildflowers; gauge the response of the creek to heavy Winter rains; check on the health of the redwoods along the Forest Trail, and assess the ongoing recovery of the burned chaparral.

Today’s run of the Bulldog Loop would be a follow-up to two runs in the park in December 2018, which found a fire-ravaged landscape just beginning the long process of recovery.

Here are a few photos taken along the way.

Some related posts: After the Woolsey Fire: Bulldog Loop, After the Woolsey Fire: Malibu Creek State Park Redwoods, M*A*S*H Site and Bulldog Climb

A Raven Story

The Flying Raven, Ex Libris for The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe,1875, Édouard Manet, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.
The Flying Raven, Ex Libris for The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe,1875, Édouard Manet, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Nearly to the top of the Beast, I was thinking how scraggly the valley oak at the top of the hill looked when my thoughts were interrupted by the cacophonous cawing of a raven perched in that tree. For the purpose of this story, let’s call him (or her) Ed.

That Ed would be in an oak tree, clamoring away, wasn’t so unusual. Ravens are loquacious birds that always seem to have something to say. As I crested the hill I mimicked his vocalizations, and in so many words, we exchanged greetings.

I ran past the oak, expecting Ed to quiet down, but the exclamations continued behind me. After a few seconds Ed flew past, toward the trailless center of Lasky Mesa — caw, cawing all the way.

I expected that would be the last I would see of Ed, and thought how unusual his behavior had been. His pronouncements were very persistent and seemed very urgent.

I continued to run on the dirt road on the south side of the mesa. As I ran, I watched Ed flying above the grass and brush about 70 yards to my left. His flying was a little erratic and he continued to caw. Crazy bird…

As I watched, Ed turned and started flying toward me. At first I thought, “Interesting.” He was some distance away and I thought surely he would turn. But he continued to fly directly at me, ranting all the way.

I stopped running. Ed had not changed course and was making a beeline for me. He was flying lower than usual, and I began to wonder if I should be concerned. Was this bird OK?

Spellbound, I watched the bird’s intentioned approach and was astonished when Ed swooped past me and deftly landed on a “Restoration Area” sign three or four feet from where I was standing.

Ravens are BIG birds, and I started to talk to this one like it was a black lab.

“What’s wrong big guy?”

“What are you trying to tell me?”

The raven watched me, repeatedly cawing, cawing, cawing. Clearly he was concerned; clearly he was trying to tell me something. I just did not understand.

In a rush of feathers, Ed took flight. He crossed the road, flew back over the brush ahead of me and to my left, and swooped low to the ground.

And that’s when the coyote burst from the brush in front of me and scurried across the road, Ed in chase.

I shook my head and grinned. Ed had been trying to tell me there was a predator nearby!

It’s common for birds and other animals to sound an alert or even pester a predator, but Ed had behaved more like a devoted dog worried about his friend.

Animals often have stories to tell, we just have to listen.

Related post: Hawk, Bobcat and Rabbit

Northern Harrier Turning to Strike

Northern harrier turning to strike prey

Dusk is a dangerous time. Death glides through the shadows, stealthy and quiet. Retreat to your burrow, stop munching those sprouts, silent wings and sharp talons are out and about.

It was after sunset and I was in the last miles of a run at Ahmanson Ranch. A few minutes earlier I’d noticed a pair of northern harriers crisscrossing the grasslands of Lasky Mesa. Now on the east side of the mesa, with the light fading, I saw them again. This time they were flying together — one in lead and one in trail — and making a low, sweeping pass, just a few feet off the ground.

Pair of northern harriers, hunting at dusk, on Lasky Mesa
Pair of northern harriers, hunting at dusk

Northern harriers have an owl-like facial ruff, and can hunt using sound, as well as vision. Obviously hunting for prey, they continuously made small adjustments to their flight paths, overflying one interesting spot and then another. There were calls between the birds — a dialog seemingly related to the hunt.

Was that movement? I’ll check. No. Did you check there? Yes.

Their behavior had been intriguing enough that I had stopped to watch. The harriers were backlit by the western sky and I snapped a photo of them flying in a leading/trailing formation. I had taken a photo of the lead bird and had just switched to the trailing bird when it suddenly spread its sleek wings and tail, pivoted into an impossible turn, briefly hovered, and then pounced on its prey.

The time from the first photo of the pair to the turn and strike was 18 seconds. It was remarkable to see!

Related post: Northern Harrier on Lasky Mesa