In My Own Backyard

Bonding with nature in my own backyard? —Not possible! To bond with nature, I need to get away and go where nature is, where all the wildlife is. I need to get out where the creeks and rivers and canyons, of verdant green, are teaming with birds and other interesting creatures. I need to get away from this overpopulated and paved-over world—with all its rules, regulations, and restrictions, corralling me like a chain-link fence!

These kinds of feelings come natural here in Southern California. It seems like all the fertile hills and lush valleys are being scraped and covered over with asphalt and houses—expensive ones at that! In this semi-arid country, the ancient groves of gorgeous Live Oaks are all but gone, except in some creek bottoms. Once alive with avian songs in the early morn and hoots and calls at night, what were lively marshes and creeks are ghostly silent now. Many have been drained and replaced with huge concrete culverts, or buried and graded over.

An amazing thing happened along the way though. Fortunately a few tree-huggers screamed loud enough over the years to save the migratory Bells Vireo. They insisted on saving some of the willow trees that serve as their nesting sites and food source. Willows are the host to the larvae-caterpillar of the Admiral butterfly. So, now the canyons and riparian woods, that are left, are being protected and enhanced and even replanted in some areas. These park-like green belts add a ribbon of green to their respective communities and serve as natural habitats for indigenous and migratory birds and other wildlife. They also serve as verdant bird walks and cool shady places to escape the grimy summer asphalt, right here in my own backyard.

For instance, this morning the dense oaks along the Vista Creek were filled with repeated calls of su-weet, su-weet. Pacific Slope Flycatchers were feeding their young, working the sunny openings in the woods, like bees in a hive head go toward the light. They were catching emerging gnats and Mayflies for their fledglings. With each dart and dive I could hear a soft, snap, snap, as they captured their prey and returned to the overhanging dead branch. I focused my binoculars on them and both the male and female were hard at work feeding their fledglings.

Pausing a moment, I stood staring at some nimble water skippers (striders) strolling on the surface of the placid creek like Christ walked on water. I also observed the occasional water beetle with a bubble on his rear doing a penguin swim. Then here comes a big Red Skimmer dragonfly rattling its noisy cellophane wings. It perches glistening in a sunny spot on a fallen log, jutting over the creek. Under the log, a one-armed crawdad slithers sideways across the bottom following the decaying liquid trail of an unfortunate nestling that had fallen from its nest. Though I was here basically to observe birds; I stood contemplating each fascinating creature fulfilling its natural role in this fragile riparian ecology, that I so enjoy.

Suddenly a young Red Shouldered hawk swoops in causing the Beechy Ground Squirrels to bark and scurry. From its perch it begins eying me with the typical bob and weave of its head. Focusing intently, it tried to figure me out. Standing very still, I mock it with similar bobs and weaves of my own head, when suddenly it flies directly at me. It lands on a branch just above my head, not more than eight feet from my face. For an instant I thought it was going to land on me with its open bright yellow talons!

Slowly, I continue the bob and weave and we bobbed and weaved together in a bizarre ballet. It seemed very unafraid; for two or three long minutes we interacted. Then, it squatted down and hunched up as if prepared to fly. It almost seemed to want to drop down on me. But it flew up on a branch a little higher where it stayed in my presence for ten or minutes or more. As I slowly moved about observing other birds and wildlife it never left or changed locations.

Finally it lunged down just below me into the shallow creek about fifteen feet away. It hit the water with a splash as if it had spotted a prey. It thrashed and splashed around about three or four times. After a momentary pause, it took off up the creek under and over the majestic limbs of the sprawling live oaks and disappeared.

I was left to ponder what had happened. Naked and unembarrassed, it apparently took a short bath right in front of me, or was it just putting on some sort of a strange show? I’m not quite sure which one of us was the most curious or astounded. What a unique bonding experience that was! It is a wonderful birding experience that is not likely to ever happen again.

The last time I was here was early last winter. I was sitting on a rock situated just off the trail, above the creek, when a large coyote with a colorful plush coat came along the trail. It was obviously a male. He had an unusual amount of contrasting rufous color across his neck and upper shoulders. He paused as if he had caught my scent and looked around cautiously. Dropping his head down for an instant, he raised it up on full alert and pranced in a wild coyote gait on up the creek and out of sight. I’ve seen a lot of coyotes but that was truly one of the most handsome. On a previous visit, I had come around an embankment and upon a beautiful bobcat lying over a big oak limb with all fours hanging down. I paused and it gingerly descended the tree, down the slanting trunk, and wandered off twitching its stubby tail in typical cat fashion, that of being annoyed.

Funny how such birding experiences draw me back, again and again, to get away from this overpopulated and paved-over world and go where nature is, where all the wildlife is. Yes, to bond with nature right in my own backyard! (Vista Creek, Vista, CA)

Ed Keenan © 06-25-03

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