Category Archives: nature|wildlife

Wonderful Wildflowers, a Seasonal Bridge, and a Cranky Rattlesnake on the Bulldog Loop

Canyon sunflowers covering a hillside in Malibu Creek State Park that was burned in the 2018 Woolsey Fire
Canyon sunflowers covering a hillside burned in the 2018 Woolsey Fire

Update May 5, 2023. Did a run this afternoon in Malibu Creek State Park and the seasonal bridge across Malibu Creek on the Crags Road Trail is back in place!

As I approached the M*A*S*H site, I could see some people taking photos. I stopped to say hi, and without skipping a beat, one of them asked, “Did you wade across the creek?”

He was asking about the creek crossing where Crags Road crosses Malibu Creek upstream of Century Lake and east of the M*A*S*H site.

Prickly phlox along the Tapia Spur Trail in Malibu Creek State Park
Prickly phlox along the Tapia Spur Trail.

There’s a substantial log spanning the creek at the moment, and I wanted to answer that I danced across it with my eyes closed. But instead, I explained that I decided to wade — and for sure keep my phone dry — rather than take a chance of falling uncontrolled into three feet of water, ker-splash.

Speaking of which, this morning, I talked to a mountain biker who saw the bridge pulled off to the side of the creek before any flooding had occurred and thought it may have been hauled away. Good news! According to the Malibu Creek Docents, the bridge is seasonal and was designed to be portable. It was removed and stored before this Winter’s rain. It is expected to be reinstalled when the threat of flooding is over — which should be soon.

Vinca growing at the base of a coast redwood in Malibu Creek State Park
Vinca growing at the base of a coast redwood along the Forest Trail.

After crossing Malibu Creek and before continuing to the M*A*S*H site, I took a quick detour on the Forest Trail. Bordered by Century Lake on one side, and steep, rocky slopes on the other, the Forest Trail has a character all its own. It’s a wonderful place to observe, reflect, and enjoy nature. It’s also home to several coast redwoods. Unfortunately, less than half the trees originally growing along the trail survived the 2011-2015 drought. This morning, a redwood that died several years ago had fallen and was partially blocking the trail near its halfway point.

As has been the case in most of Southern California this Spring, the wildflowers on this run were spectacular. Canyon sunflower was particularly prevalent, with many thousands of the bright-yellow blossoms covering the hillsides burned in the 2018 Woolsey Fire.

Very dark Southern Pacific Rattlesnake on a fire road in Malibu Creek State Park
Southern Pacific Rattlesnake on Castro Peak Mtwy fire road.

Also exciting was my first rattlesnake encounter of 2023. I was running down Castro Peak Mtwy Fire Road from the Bulldog “T” when I saw something in the road that looked like a partially exposed root. As I neared, I could see it was a very dark — almost black — Southern Pacific Rattlesnake.

The snake was stretched out straight on the road, basking in the sun. As I approached, it did move, and it did not rattle. Usually, snakes in this state are pretty docile, and I can cautiously walk a few feet behind them. Yikes! This one was super-aggressive. In the blink of an eye, it turned and moved toward me, doubling back on itself. I jumped a mile! It coiled but still did not rattle! It must have recently emerged from its Winter hideaway.

Here are a few photos (primarily wildflowers) taken on the Bulldog Loop.

Some related posts: More Malibu Creek Flooding; Bulldog Training Run; After the Woolsey Fire: Malibu Creek State Park Redwoods, M*A*S*H Site and Bulldog Climb

Also check out the M*A*S*H site web page.

Chumash Trail Mule Deer

Mule deer on the Chumash Trail in Simi Valley

I saw a flash of brown through the bushes on the trail ahead. I stopped as a deer emerged from a switchback. The doe was walking slowly up the trail with her mule-like ears turned back toward me. I said something like, “Where are you going?”

She turned toward me and stared quizzically. As I slowly pulled the phone from my pack, I continued to talk. Her expression was a mix of caution and curiosity. It was as if she couldn’t quite make up her mind what I was about.

Mule deer at Trippet Ranch
Mule deer at Trippet Ranch

This was peculiar behavior for a deer in this area. It wouldn’t be so strange if I was at Trippet Ranch. The deer there graze around the oaks and grasslands near the parking lot and are used to seeing people. But in decades of running the Chumash Trail, I’ve only occasionally seen deer, and they have always been skittish and quick to react.

This doe watched me as I slowly walked around the bend and toward her. I was reminded of a friend’s experience, when he was hit on the shoulder by a spooked deer. Not wanting to force a reaction, I stopped. The deer casually stepped off the trail and disappeared down the ravine.

Later, running down Las Llajas Canyon, I was startled by the sound of something large moving in the brush. This time I got only a fleeting glimpse, as the deer bounded uphill through the trees, rocks, and brush.

Some related posts: Chumash-Las Llajas Loop, Deer Encounters, Running Between Raindrops: Chumash Trailhead to Rocky Peak

After the Palisades Fire – Snake Tracks and Monkeyflowers

Rattlesnake track on Eagle Springs Fire Road following the May 2021 Palisades Fire

The rattlesnake track above was one of several snake tracks on Eagle Springs Fire Road this morning. This area, which is below Eagle Rock in Topanga State Park, was severely burned in the May 2021 Palisades Fire.

This photo of a blooming bush monkeyflower in the same area underscores the resilience of the chaparral biome.

Some related posts: Trippet Ranch Loop After the Palisades Fire, Palisades Fire Perimeter and Some Area Trails

Musch Meadow Frost

Frost along the Backbone Trail at Musch Meadow

As I approached Musch Camp, a scrub jay flew from a trailside faucet and into a nearby eucalyptus. There had been a little rain the day before, but the birds at the closed camp were still thirsty. Less than a quarter-inch of rain had fallen, and nearby creeks were still dry.

Melting frost
Melting frost “steaming” at Musch Meadow

I was doing a run from the “Top of Reseda,” and on a warmer day would have topped off my water bottle at the camp. I stopped at the faucet and briefly turned on the spigot. Maybe that would make it easier for the jay.

Leaving the camp behind, I continued south on the Backbone Trail, across frost-covered Musch Meadow. Early morning sun had just reached the meadow, and water vapor from the melting frost steamed in the cold air.

In another mile I reached the Trippet Ranch trailhead, and then begin the six mile run back to the Valley. At several points on the run there had been wintry views of the local mountains. On the way back the best view of the snowy mountains was from the Hub, where Mt. Baldy could be seen gleaming white in the morning sun.

Some related posts: Garapito Trail Runs, Musch Trail Mule Deer, Musch Trail Morning

Under a Falcon’s Eye

An American Kestrel (female) at Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve.

I was in that other-world you can reach when running, lost in thought and dreaming of dreams. As I approached the valley oak on the western edge of Lasky Mesa, I wondered if the tree was going to survive. Even though last Winter had been wet, it had been a hot summer, and this once-elegant star of TV and film was still struggling with the deleterious effects of five years of drought. Leaves grew in clusters along its spindly limbs as if it had been burned in a wildfire.

Nearly under the scraggly valley oak, I slowed to a walk to look at it more closely. Glancing upward I did a double-take… Perched on a bare limb at the top of the tree was a small raptor. So small, that it had to be an American kestrel.

Kestrels are extremely wary birds with acute vision, and I was surprised it had not flown as I had run toward the tree. I’ve seen and heard kestrels many times at Ahmanson Ranch, but never this closely. The diminutive falcon was only about 15′ above me. My camera was in my pack and just about any movement was going to spook the bird.

Ever so slowly, I turned my back to the bird and walked a few steps away from the tree. Wishing I had eyes in the back of my head, I carefully removed my camera from my waist pack, turned it on, made sure it was set correctly, and partially extended the zoom lens. Turning back toward the tree, I expected the falcon to be gone, but it had not flown.

I took a set of bracketed photos and then another. I needed to be a little closer. I took two or three slow steps toward the tree. As I raised the camera, the female kestrel — burnt orange across the back and upper wings — had had enough. With a powerful stroke of her wings she turned and leapt to flight, once again leaving me to my thoughts.