February 28

Mostly sunny skies, temperatures in the upper 50’s and a stiff west wind surround us as we begin hiking a perimeter trail around the 26-acre, Ballona Freshwater Marsh as many planes takeoff and land at LAX, only a few miles to the east.  After being filled and farmed for decades, this wetland was restored to not only provide refuge for wildlife but also collect and naturally clean stormwater runoff from nearby streets. At first, my attention is drawn to colorful blossoms of Coastal Sunflowers and Wild Rose. From distance, I watch the open water teeming with fowl while up close, I observe Geese, Shovelers and bright white Egrets, buffeted by wind gusts. A common question about Egrets is, without plumage colors to camouflage them, like blue herons, how do they escape predation? First, they often choose urbanized locations like this over isolated locations because isolated locations have more predators. Also, they use flight to escape from terrestrial animals and are known to have innate recognition and avoidance of poisonous snakes. After passing a stormwater drain, I’m surprised by the sight of deciduous Sycamore trees beginning to leaf out already after dropping their leaves in late autumn. Turning back to the water, I spot a Cormorant diving for fish and a never-before-seen Cinnamon Teal swimming among some Shovelers. Further ahead, I come upon the male flowers of a Coyote bush and the now-familiar call of a Tree frog from the dense underbrush. From afar, I can see feathery tops of Pampas Grass sticking up above sedges and willows.  Overhead, against a blue sky, I see a noisy flock of Geese, a soaring Egret and a lurking Osprey. An Osprey is often seen hovering and then plunging feet-first to catch fish in its talons. After a successful strike, the bird rises heavily from the water and flies away, carrying the fish head-forward with its feet. Bald Eagles sometimes chase Ospreys and force them to drop their catch. On my way back, red galls on an Arroyo willow leaf catches my eye. The cause of this gall is a Redgall Sawfly, a type of primitive wasp (stock photo). As the tree’s leaves are expanding the adult sawfly insert the eggs into the expanding tissues in early June. A single female lays up to 50 eggs. This causes the leaf to swell into a lump or chamber, which nourishes and protects the developing grubs. Most of them emerge by fall and over-winter in a cocoon in the surrounding leaf litter.

Once there were acres

For creatures to roam

For trees of the forest

To make their home

Once there were acres 

Of water and sky

For fish to swim

For flocks to fly

Now there are acres

Where humans thrive

What is the future?

Who will survive?

 

D. DeGraaf

February 21

Afternoon temperatures are in the low 60’s under sunny skies as I make my way along a section of southern California shoreline, southeast of White Point Park, for my annual solo tide pool exploration. At the first pool, I pause to watch a small snail shell, occupied by a Hermit crab, crawl along the sandy bottom. Since these crabs (stock photo) lack a hard carapace, they use empty shells for partial containment and protection from predators. Nearby, I spot a Sunburst Anemone clinging to the rocks. These colorful creatures feed by firing harpoon-like filaments into their prey when they touch their tentacles, injecting a paralyzing neurotoxin and guiding them into their mouths. However, out of the water, these colorful creatures fold in their tentacles and expose their adhesive sides that are covered with bits of shell, rock and seaweed. Moving down the beach, I notice the parallel layers in the rocks at my feet and realize these are the eroded ends of a sedimentary formation that had been laid down millions of years ago and subsequently uplifted, folded by tremendous geological forces and now exposed by an ebb tide. At another tide pool, I notice a patch of reddish Coralline algae and a clump of Kelp with its air-filled bladders that keep their long stems afloat. Along the exposed beach, I watch an immature gull foraging for whatever the intertidal zone has to offer. Exploring rock faces near shore, I come upon a cluster of Mussels. These bivalve mollusks secrete protein fibers, called byssal threads. from a gland in the foot that secures them to hard surfaces and to each other. Another rock displays a few tiny Limpets. These small herbivorous marine snails feed by scraping the rock’s surface with a strong, toothy organ called a radula. It is very difficult for sedentary animals or plants to become established in their territory because they scrape it clean in a relatively short period of time. Soon, I observe a rock displaying a variety of organisms including a ½ inch Chiton with its coat-of-mail shell resembling the segmented armor on a knight's gauntlet. These marine mollusks have a relatively good fossil record, stretching back 400 million years. On my last rock face, I see more limpets along with masses of tiny barnacles. These creatures feed through feather-like appendages called cirri. As the cirri rapidly extend and retract through the opening at the top, they comb the water for microscopic organisms. 

Ocean recedes

Ebb the tide

Shallow pools

Creatures reside

Anemones

Tiny crabs

Piles of kelp

Rocky slabs

Water floods

Surging flow

Nature’s cycle

What a show!

D. DeGraaf

 

February 14

The early morning sky is sunny with temperatures in the mid 60’s as we hike the steep terrain of the 155-acre Forrestal Preserve, another property of southern California’s Palos Verdes Peninsula Land Conservancy. Soon, I come upon a foraging California Towhee. Poison oak is one of the hazards of outdoor recreation in California. It lines trails (stock photo) and covers hillsides, seemingly waiting to inflict its itchy, weeping rash on the unwary. But it’s also an integral part of the landscape and part of the daily life of California Towhees. Many build their nests in poison oak and feast on the plant’s copious crops of pale white berries. Next, I spot the dark pink blossoms from an Ice plant and a honeybee feeding on Bladderpod blossoms. Proceeding on a narrow earthen trail, I pause and listen to the call of a Bewick’s Wren. This bird (stock photo)was named by John James Audubon for Thomas Bewick, a bird watcher and amateur naturalist, who was well-known for his published illustrations. Widespread and common in the western US, these wrens have completely disappeared from most areas east of the Mississippi River during the last few decades. A likely theory for the dramatic decline is competition with other birds, primarily the House Wren, a smaller but more aggressive relative. Up ahead, I come to a hillside of exposed rock with a range of slope conditions, including vertical walls. Between 1920-1950, this place was a quarry for mining basaltic rock that was used for building breakwaters around nearby Long Beach Harbor. Turning westward, I look afar at Santa Catalina Island, a 42,000-acre land mass that is the largest of 8 “Channel Islands” spread north to south along the California coast. Back in the 1920’s, a small heard of bison was left on the island by a movie crew. Currently, the Catalina Island Conservancy maintains a herd of about 150 of these animals while protecting both them and the island's landscape. Continuing along the rugged path, I notice a perching Allen’s Hummingbird. The bird’s name commemorates Charles Andrew Allen, an American collector and taxidermist who identified the bird in 1879 in California. Nearby, I see a perching Anna’s Hummingbird. This bird was named for Parisian Princess Anna de Belle Massena. John James Audubon himself was charmed by her, but it was naturalist René Lesson who named it in her honor. Back toward the car while exploring a meadow, I come upon some tiny pink blossoms of Stork’s bill as well as a Honeybee feeding on blossoms of wild Mustard.

 

Feet on the hilltop

Eyes to the west

An ocean scene

One of the best

Cays and coves

Miles of sand

Beyond the surf

Isle of land

Sea and sky

Amazing views

Blues and greens

Colors and hues

 

D. DeGraaf

February 7

It’s mostly cloudy, in the mid 50’s as we hike through Southern California’s, 35-acre Dominquez Gap Wetlands. Water from the LA River and local urban runoff are routed through these wetlands to naturally reduce pollutants such as fecal coliform and heavy metals while sustaining a year-round habitat for plants and native wildlife. The open space provides opportunities for public recreational amenities such as equestrian trails, bike paths and walkways. Following an earthen trail lined with Coastal Sunflowers, we pass by a Eucalyptus tree displaying pink blossoms and a Cherry tree displaying white blossoms. Nearby, a Fetid Passionflower catches my eye. Beyond its beautiful flower, this species is easy to recognize in the field by its disagreeable odor when disturbed. Also, the plant can trap insects on its bracts, which excrete a sticky substance that contains digestive enzymes, minimizing predation on the young flowers and fruits. It’s unclear whether the plant receives nutrients from these insects, so it’s considered “protocarnivorous.” Scanning the open water, I watch a mating pair of Mallards swimming by and a Song Sparrow perching among 8-ft tall Sawgrass. Moving past colorful blossoms of Black Sage and Evening Primrose, I pause to enjoy the long melodious song of a House Finch.  Continuing down the path, I spot a male Allen’s Hummingbird. On their territory, these birds have a spectacular display, starting with a pendulous, shuttling flight followed by a high-speed, J-shaped dive from about 100 feet. As if the display alone weren't enough, the dive is accompanied by a loud buzz and metallic shriek. These birds are also extremely aggressive, routing any other male Allen's, other hummingbird species—and even birds several times larger than themselves, such as kestrels and hawks. Next, I pause to look at and listen to a Northern Mockingbird. The vocalizations of these birds copy other songbirds, dogs barking and even machinery. Some mockingbirds learn as many as 200 songs as part of their vocal repertoire. Turning around and making our way back to the car, I notice the bright red “flowers” of the ubiquitous Bougainvillea vine. Each “flower” consists of papery-looking bracts surrounding three tiny flowers (stock photo). Although the bracts are leaves, they don't photosynthesize. Instead, their main function is to protect the tiny flowers and help attract pollinating insects and hummingbirds to the plant with their bright colors.

 

Bird of the wild

How can it be?

Acres of concrete

Rarely a tree

Tainted air

Smoggy sky

Sprawling buildings

Nowhere to fly

Urban racket

Drowns your song

What have we done?

It seems so wrong

 

D. DeGraaf