125 birds, and pranking Castro

We made it to the season goal of 100 birds... We surpassed it, blew it away actually. As of November 8th, the end of the crew's trapping season, we caught 125 Island Scrub Jays. Highlights of the bunch (for me) included many territorial birds in the Portezuela and Coches Prietos field plots. The best capture came yesterday. The territorial male of the Polaris territory in Coches had been eluding capture for almost a year. Baited foot snares didn't work. The peanut and box trap did, but he then pulled a Houdini and escaped out of the bird bag before removal for banding. Needless to say, this bird had been around the block. He didn't trust us anymore. Although he still liked peanuts. It was time for drastic measures. Our last resort was the bow-net. (The bow-net consists of two U-shaped metal arms with a net hung loosely between them. The net is spring loaded. To set it up you fold it in half and place the loose net up near the now stacked arms. To spring the trap you pull a string attached to a trigger that releases a clamp holding the two arms together. The springs do the rest of the work. And it's fast. And scary. So we only use it as a last resort.)Katie and I set up the net in some grass in Polaris' territory, then covered the arms with clumps of grass we pulled up. We carefully placed some peanuts in the sweet spot in the top center of the trap. Then we set about luring the Polaris male in. It took a while to find him, but he couldn't refuse the free peanuts. Everything was going smoothly until he noticed our intent watching of him. (and insistence that he take peanuts from a particular spot in the grass.) He was suspicious. So Katie and I employed another tactic: act like we don't care what he's doing, and we're not paying attention. This worked well enough to get him into the trapping area, but as soon as we moved back into trapping position he backed off and watched us from the nearest buckwheat. At this point Katie decided to move off and try finding the Ursa pair across the road, and I decided to make the trigger string longer. As I was kneeling down on the ground, knotting the strings together, I could see the Polaris male deciding that I was obviously preoccupied. He began making trips into the trap, caching peanuts, and coming back for more. This was the opportunity. I remained kneeling, with my body sideways to the bow-net, giving the appearance that I was still busy, and pulled the trigger the next time he went back for peanuts. It was a success. The unbanded Polaris male is now BRB/AY. He will never trust a free peanut handout again I'm sure.

Castro, our resident front yard Island Scrub Jay, really likes to forage for loose peanuts in our field truck, the Aphelocomobile. Every time we pull into the drive from a day in the field he waits until we've vacated the truck, then hops down from the nearest Eucalyptus branch, onto the rails, and into the truck. We can see him hopping around in the backseat, poking in the cracks in the cushions, and frequently making trips back to the edge of the open driver's side window to peck at his reflection in the side view mirror. (We're not sure that he recognizes himself or not, or why he seems to take such pleasure in pecking at his reflection.)


Photo credit Ben, (spring 2009)

Colin had the idea a few weeks ago to play a prank on Castro. He wanted to hide in the front seat under some jackets, wait for Castro to hop into the truck, then pop up, scaring Castro out of the truck. The first pranking attempt was carried out by Colin, but for some reason, Castro didn't show up that day. The next attempt was mine. I piled some jackets on top of me, crunched down into the foot box, then waited. It didn't take long. I heard the smack of feet and jangle of bands as Castro hopped down onto the truck. Then a little closer as I heard him land on the open window. Then a hollow thump as he hopped down onto the driver's seat. I threw off the jackets to see Castro jump up in surprise, quickly regain his composure, and fly out the open window he came in. He didn't go far. Just landed on the rail in the back of the truck and looked at me inquisitively through the back window. The next day he was back in the truck again. Obviously the little shock he received wasn't enough to keep him from searching for peanuts in the Aphelocomobile.

Today I said goodbye to Krusty, Bill and Hillary Clinton, and Castro and Dahlia up at the cabins. Today we leave on the boat for the mainland... until the next season.

Santa Cruz Island FALL BIRD LIST (as seen by the crew)

Seen on the island, or in the waters immediately surrounding the island (aka, Santa Barbara Channel, or just offshore)

Island Scrub Jay (well, of course.)
Orange-crowned warbler
Rufous-crowned sparrow
Black phoebe
Anna's Hummingbird
American Kestrel
Red-tailed hawk
Common raven
Lesser goldfinch
Bushtit
Brown pelican
Horned lark
Bewick's wren
Acorn woodpecker
Northern flicker (red and yellow shafted)
Western flycatcher
Hutton's vireo
House finch
Wilson's warbler
Phainopepla
California quail
Western gull
Blue-gray gnatcatcher
Allen's hummingbird
Spotted towhee
Song sparrow
Mourning dove
Western meadowlark
Black-headed grosbeak
Brandt's cormorant
Black oystercatcher
Barn swallow
Eurasian collared dove
Black-throated gray warbler
Chipping sparrow
Great blue heron
Red-breasted nuthatch
White-throated swift
Hermit thrush
Lark sparrow
Warbling vireo
Western tanager
Brown-headed cowbird
Say's phoebe
Fox sparrow
Prairie warbler
Sharp-shinned hawk
Cooper's hawk
Western wood-pewee
Rock wren
House wren
Winter wren
Lazuli bunting
Peregrine falcon
Common yellowthroat
Blackpoll warbler
Lincoln's sparrow
Cliff swallow
Green-tailed towhee
Northern rough-winged swallow
Heerman's gull
Double crested cormorant
Spotted sandpiper
Yellow-rumped warbler (Audubon's)
Yellow warbler
Red-breasted sapsucker
Pectoral sandpiper
Bullock's Oriole
Ruby-crowned kinglet
Ash-throated flycatcher
Loggerhead shrike
Merlin
Vesper sparrow
Killdeer
Townsend's solitaire
Red-naped sapsucker
Dark-eyed (oregon) junco
White-crowned sparrow
Northern mockingbird
Wilson's snipe
Cedar waxwing
Brewer's blackbird
Common poorwill
European starling
Northern waterthrush
Burrowing owl
Northern saw-whet owl
Band-tailed pigeon
Townsend's warbler
Golden-crowned sparrow
Western grebe
Black-bellied plover
Common loon
Northern harrier
Hermit warbler
American robin
Mountain bluebird
Osprey
Golden-crowned kinglet
Purple finch
American goldfinch
Black turnstone
Varied thrush
Brown creeper
Pelagic cormorant

Sorry it's not in taxonomic order... I'm too lazy to take it out of our rough sighting order.

Breaking records and taking names

We have reached 91 birds.

We are 9 birds away from our seemingly lofty early season goal of trapping and banding 100 Island Scrub Jays. Yesterday was a record day of 7 birds in about 5 hours. Previous records, (set by Katie and I in Coches of 4, and then later of 6 in the same area) were smashed by the team effort of Colin, Katie and I. Katie had scoped out our sweet spot about a week ago during an island wide oak survey that we conducted. The whole process of banding, gathering morphological data, taking feather and blood samples, taking bill morphology photos and release takes about 30 minutes per bird. We were maxed out. While I was banding, checking for molt, and ageing one bird, Katie was finishing processing another, and Colin was pulling the trap on the next bird.

Today our stellar team managed to capture two birds in the live oak stands on the ridges surrounding Diablo, the highest mountain on Santa Cruz. Not knowing exactly where the birds would be, or if they would even be interested in peanuts, capturing two was a good day. On the drive up in the morning we were treated to a beautiful sunrise over the central valley, looking east, towards the mainland.



Colin, Sinead and I took a day off on the island recently. Sinead and I woke up with the rest of the crew and caught a ride to the Coches plot, then hiked to the beach. We spent a few quiet hours chatting in the sand and wandering the beach.



On the beach we saw the resident ISSJ pair, one of whom likes to sit in a snag looking over the ocean (not a bad life.) Also spotted were a Yellow-rumped warbler, White crowned sparrow, Purple finch, Spotted sandpiper, Western Grebe, and Black bellied plover to name a few. I also found what appeared to be a good portion of a gull skeleton.



Only 9 more birds to the Ultimate Island Reward… Waking up at Christy Ranch, a super greasy breakfast of everything you could think of (eggs, bacon, sausage, French toast, pancakes…) followed by a day off on the West end of the island and exploring Frasier Point.

AR/GOY, Krusty, and the gang

This is Krusty. (photo credit Katie)

That's what I decided to call this hatch year bird when I banded it KKK/AR (pink, pink, pink, aluminum, red)a few weeks ago. Krusty likes to hang out with AR/GOY, PUG/AR and a quite a few other hatch year birds in a floater gang that likes to visit the cabins and upset the Clintons, Castro, and Dahlia.

Krusty appears confused a lot of the time. Whether this is a product of his/ her disheveled shape due to the fact that they seem to be molting nearly every feather on their body, or their general slowness to catch onto gang activities is undecided. Krusty is not the dominant bird in his/ her gang. AR/GOY appears to be the ringleader. Krusty just follows along, (usually hesitantly). Krusty hid under the aphelocomobile after grabbing, then dropping a peanut from the trap when another bird approached. When he/ she went right back under the trap immediately after this encounter, Krusty's unbanded days were over.

(non) ghost stories, and the jay formerly known as WR/AY

Santa Cruz Island has a rather interesting history as a ranching property. Erosion was the negative legacy left by this era, while many historic buildings the positive. This past weekend Katie, Sinead, Colin and I drove out to the far West end of the island. Our plan was to spend two days and two nights trapping birds on that side of the island. The West end is casually referred to as Christy’s. If I remember correctly, this is because back when the island belonged to one man, Justinian Caire, when he died, he left that part of the island to one of his daughters (named Christy.) There is an old ranch house within 10 minutes walk of a massive beach, as well as a barn and another building. I’m not sure the original function of this building, but it had a kitchen and dining room that we used while we were staying out there.


Supposedly the Christy ranch house is haunted. The story I was told was that it isn’t Christy, but a different woman. This woman was married to the captain of a ship, or something like that, and when she found out that he was trafficking in people (Chinese) up to San Francisco Bay, she jumped off the boat when it passed through the channel between Santa Rosa and Santa Cruz. Needless to say, she didn’t make it. Now, I’m not one to believe in ghosts. But some of the stories I heard, (from pretty reputable sources, and people who also are not the type to believe in ghosts) left me a little weirded out. (Windows slamming open and shut, feet being played with in the middle of the night, pressure on backs of necks and chests, being picked up out of bed and dropped… to name a few.) But being stubborn, I decided that I would just conveniently ignore said stories until I saw for myself. I think I was still the most anxious. Colin and Katie wanted to see something, and Sinead went off to explore the ranch house at dusk by herself.



Nothing happened.

Now that may seem rather anticlimactic, but I blame it on a few factors. Supposedly this ghost likes men more than women. (So our ratio was a bit off.) Things have also most often happened to people who were completely convinced that the whole ghost thing was just ridiculous. (And we all were pretty open to something being possible. Although I did spend a good deal of time the first night being rather jumpy - and then rationalizing anything I saw.) We’ll have another chance for the ghost to make an appearance though. We’re thinking of having a little Halloween shindig out there.

We’ve had success with our trapping as of late. Today Katie and I set a new record for most birds caught in one day this fall. In about 5 hours we managed to catch 6 Island Scrub Jays in our looney tunes style box trap. The crew has set ourselves an arbitrary goal of trapping 50 birds before we open a can of special cheese that we’ve been saving.



Today Katie and I managed to get ourselves to within two birds of that goal. We caught 5 previously unbanded birds, and re-captured one. We have been trapping all new birds, but today I had to make an exception for the bird banded WR/AY. She was being incredibly annoying when I was trying to capture the unbanded birds in the area. Being completely comfortable with the box trap she would jump right under and grab as many peanuts as she could fit in her bill, then take off to cache them. It wasn’t long before she was back again. We were friends for a while, when she showed the unbanded birds how getting peanuts was done, but not later, when she altered her trap entering tactics. This consisted of landing on the top, hopping onto the stick, then jumping down. This was problematic. Often when she’d land on the top the trap would sag to one side. Or when she jumped on the stick it would be knocked off kilter. This meant that the next time she decided to land on the contraption it would collapse. This is not something that you want an unbanded bird who is just getting comfortable with the idea of taking a peanut from under the strange wire box to witness. As a result I kept on having to reset the trap after every time WR/AY came. (Which was a lot.) I was not amused. After about 10 or 15 minutes of this nonsense, Katie, who was down below finishing up processing a bird we had caught previously, could hear me up above letting WR/AY know how I felt about her trap tactics. When Katie showed up and I still hadn’t been able to get an unbanded bird, I decided it was time to pull it on WR/AY. The short lived vendetta ended with me replacing her color bands entirely. She had been banded with 5 bands at one point, but had managed to remove one, and the Red band was nearly gone. (I didn’t even have to cut it off, when I applied pressure it just cracked and broke off.) In honor of the affection that most of the crew has for this bird, (which is more amused annoyance), I banded her UGG/AY. Ugg.

UGG/AY is not the only bird that has incited trapping vendettas. Up in our Portezuela plot there is a newly formed pair of birds. The female is banded OPR/AP. We affectionately refer to her as Oprah. Her unbanded male became Steadman. (After the real Oprah’s long time partner.) Steadman evaded the box trap two times, and landed on the stick another, collapsing it, much to his surprise. So needless to say he was trap shy. We had to employ different methods if we were going to be successful… So we broke out our newly arrived bownet, and set it up for a first time use. Success came eventually, and Colin happily banded his nemesis.

To the Aphelocomobile!

Three weeks of our ten week fall field season have already passed. Things are up and running and we are well on our way to the goal of catching one Island Scrub Jay per day on Santa Cruz. (We’ve got 26 new, never caught or banded Jays thus far.) We have been trying unsuccessfully for the past three days to get a Coches day in… That side of the island has been completely socked in in fog all morning. We did an extra field station day, then moved onto a banding blitz of sorts.


Yesterday we caught 4 birds at the orchard on the island. Today was a bit slower. After driving most of the way to Coches before seeing it was completely covered in fog again, we decided to take the ridge road to the bishop pine forest and the sentinela region. We had some great views along the way of the sun rising up over the clouds and fog pouring like a waterfall over sections of the South Ridge on the island. We also took a few goofy crew shots.



The pines being completely socked in as well we continued on down to Portezuela. Katie and I banded while Mario, Jess, Colin, and Sinead tackled the caching and foraging plot birds. Katie and I found the group of floaters we wanted to target for capture pretty quickly. The only problem was that they were not the most cooperative Jays when it came to the trap. One or two Jays would quickly duck under the trap for a peanut about once every half hour or so. A group of about 7 or 8 were all perched around, chuffing and squabbling, but seemingly lacking the guts to go grab the stash of peanuts under the trap. Our only hypothesis as to why they were so timid this morning was the close call that one jay had with a Peregrine Falcon. I heard the incoming whoosh of wings, heard a Jay alarm call as it dove into a big oak we were set up near, then saw the Peregrine veer off at the last second, and blast off in the opposite direction. I watched in my binoculars as it flew away being mobbed by small songbirds. The only Jay we did capture wasn’t of our own doing. One bird flew down to check out the trap, landed on the stick propping up the wire box, and the whole thing collapsed, trapping him/ her underneath. (The stick is attached to a string. Normally we pull it out, trapping the bird underneath when they take their time weighing peanuts, choosing the best one.) When the day heated up we hopped back into the white Toyota that we have now dubbed “the aphelocomobile” and made our way back to the cabins.

Time to cache the acorns...

It's the fall on Santa Cruz Island. Which can mean only one thing for the Island Scrub Jays... Time to cache some acorns. (kind of like bringing home the bacon, or making the doughnuts.) The ISSJs are busy plucking whatever they seem to think is the choicest acorns from the oaks and burying them in whatever they seem to think is the choicest hiding place. (Very carefully placing small leaves and rocks over the site, disguising it from any sneaky Jays that may be watching to see where they put their prized possession.)It was all business in the Coches Prietos field plot this morning. Getting close enough to a bird to catch a color combo was not an easy feat. They didn't seem to stop moving, flying from near a ridge top, down to a riparian area, and back again.

It's been great seeing the same birds again. This is the first field job that I've come back to where I know I'm seeing the same individuals from before. Of course I insisted that the first day in the field, on the field station plot, that I would hunt down all the birds that I followed during the breeding season. I found them all, besides two who seem to be MIA. I was very happy to see one of Arnie's fledges from this year (AR/GOY... I call him/ her "Are-goy"), and a bird banded as a nestling in Coches who has decided to make the Field Station plot home. I'm hoping to catch up with the missing birds the next day we focus on the field station.(Obama and Sarah Palin are missing!) I also managed to find the poison oak, and in less than 48 hours on the island got myself all itchy again. It seems to get worse every time, but the good news is it seems to go away faster every time.

Thursday evening we made the short trip to Brian's place. We BBQd up some chicken over the fire, (after thoroughly saturating the ground around the steel fire pit with water), made a salad fresh from the garden, put some cornbread in the oven, and played an intense game of dice (that I won.)Later, after eating, we filled and corked 25 bottles of Brian's wine. He's had this batch going for the past year, made from grapes found on the island, remnants of the days when there was a vineyard and olive oil press. Now the bottles need about 6 more months of ageing to be just right. We had some problems getting a good siphon going... so there was plenty of opportunity for us all to get a taste, and I can say that it's going to be good. (It already is.) I think that we've decided on naming the batch "The Barking Fox," after the island foxes that like to visit Brian's garden and then bark on his back porch. We're planning on a label-making party sometime soon. (At which we will probably open one of those 25 bottles.)

It's good to be back.

The most wonderful time of the year

It's that time again!

Saturday I fly to LAX... Monday I step off the Island Packers boat onto the dock at Prisoner's Harbor. Back on Santa Cruz for a few more months of Island Scrub Jay research.

Of course, I will keep you posted.

The end, and a new beginning to come

I left Santa Cruz Island on June 15th, knowing that I would be returning in late August for more Scrub jay studies.



The day my Island Packers boat was leaving from Prisoner's harbor I had the treat of riding halfway around the island with the remaining Bald eagle field crew members. We were on a re-sighting and sightseeing zodiak excursion. In the approximately 5 hours that we spent zipping along the coast we resighted 3 of the study Bald eagles, saw countless Brandt's cormorants, Brown pelicans, Pigeon guillemots, and Western gulls.



We also saw sealions and seals. One large male sealion was not amused when we interupted his lunch of sunfish fins. We had been cruising by in the zodiak when we spotted some suspicious splashing to one side. We steered over to the disturbance just in time to see a sealion rear up out of the water with a gigantic sunfish in his jaws, shake it around, and then dissapear back beneath the waves. Naturally we were excited about this spotting, so we hung around to see what would happen next. The sealion porpoised out of the water with his jaws wide open, teeth bared, and made the most awful snarling growl at us. It was intimidating. Especially considering if he wanted to he probably could have made life harder for us.



After leaving the island, pre-driving cross county (yet again.) I spent a few days visiting Nora in the Mono Basin. We got in some excellent birding, made some delicious dinners, and drank some good wine. We saw Brewer's sparrows, Green-tailed towhees, Clark's nutcrackers, Juniper titmice, Bushtits, Mountain chickadees, Osprey, THOUSANDS of California gulls, Violet-green swallows, Rough winged swallows, Yellow warbler, Wilson's phalaropes, Western tanager, and Common nighthawk... and that's only naming a few! We also managed to wake up at 3:30 one morning to be out kayaking on Mono Lake, in the Tufa, as the sun was rising. Tufa are basically mineral deposits made by freshwater springs that partially feed the extremely saline Mono Lake. Now that the water level has dropped, (due to water being taken by the Los Angeles DWP from source streams) these interesting "Tufa towers" can be seen.




Mono Lake is so salty that the gulls that were paddling around on it looked like they were almost floating on the air. There are no fish in Mono Lake, only brine shrimp. And one gull eats thousands of them in a day. There are millions of the tiny shrimp in the lake. When the sun had some up we could see them floating around in the green water. It almost looked like a thin shrimp soup. Later in the summer there's even more of them!

After leaving Lee Vining and Mono Lake I sprinted to Ohio to visit family, then made a quick hop to Pennsylvania to visit friends, and then another quick jump to Connecticut to see more family.



I arrived back in New Hampshire on the 25th... and promptly began lab work a few days later.

I'll be back in the field in late August for another few months studying Island scrub jays on Santa Cruz. I'm already excited!

An enemy in the nest

So I had the distinct pleasure of witnessing a nest being predated right before my very eyes. (Or unlucky circumstance... it's a little of both really.) Most of the time we never know what has eaten a particular clutch of eggs or nestlings. We have ideas (Island Fox, Island Spotted Skunk, Cooper's Hawk, Common Raven), but don't know for sure unless we see the event in action, or get it on video. Documented nest predators of Island scrub jay nests up to this point are only the Island Fox and Cooper's Hawk. These were both captured on video, and are up on youtube. (Cooper's Hawk, Island Fox)The predation event that I happened to witness was a new nest predator... and was caught on video.

I had put up a hard disk video camera on Taurus' nest in Coches at approximately 6 in the morning. The video would be useful for looking at feeding rates of nestlings. I believe the nestlings were about 7 days old. When I came back around 12 to remove the camera and check the nest things got interesting. I extended my mirror pole and stuck it up over the nest, trying to get a look inside at how many nestlings were in there. But I couldn't see anything. The nest looked empty. That wasn't right. I'd just seen the adults with full crops. So I pulled the pole back, readjusted the mirror, and went to put the mirror up again. I didn't have to. When I got close to the nest I heard a little "peep!" and saw a nestling butt appear over the rim of the nest. That's weird I thought. If I was going to see any part of the nestling at this stage it should just be the tip of a begging mouth. I looked a little closer... That's when I noticed that it appeared that there was a lizard like face around that nestling butt. I quickly ran out of the nest clump and grabbed my camera.



Sure enough, a Gopher Snake had somehow found the nest and wound its way up in there. It was now mawing down on one of three nestlings. However, I disturbed the snake's lunch, and it decided that one nestling was enough when faced with the larger human predator now hovering over the nest. The snake abandoned ship, and moved out of the nest as quick as its now sluggish body would take it.



And that was the end of one of Taurus' nestlings.

Another resident of Cruz

The Island scrub jays are not the only endemic wildlife found on Santa Cruz Island by any means. Another particularly charismatic species endemic to the Channel Islands is the Island Fox.



I have had a few run ins with these little guys, and little they are. Not much bigger than your average housecat. They’re incredibly curious. I have had to chase a few off who were following me while I was either nest searching or on my way to check a nest. They seem to like to follow in any paths that we leave through tall grass. It does appear to be a bit easier working though that grass in a path rather than attempting to swim through it themselves. They’ll follow along with their eyes all squinty (they are most active at night), and their tiny noses in the air, sniffing.

I had a particularly curious fox inspect my bag and nest pole while I was sitting on a rock nearby.



It was entertaining until they decided to nibble a bit at the pack, and then attempted to pull it with them. We cannot leave any boots, socks or other potentially enticing items outside of our cabins at night. The foxes will carry them off into the brush, most certainly to never be found again. Or at least never found again by their original owners. Random partnerless socks and shoes have been found out in the field. The foxes are like curious puppies, carrying off anything they can that interests them. Wandering over our deck in the night in search of such interesting items they also like to leave us little presents. We have to be careful not to step in these in the morning.

The closest encounter of the Island Fox kind that I have had happened with the same fox who attempted to carry my stuffed field bag away with it. I was sitting on a rock watching a pair of birds when the fox appeared. I decided to just sit still and see how close the fox would get. The answer was that the fox would attempt to grab the boot on my foot by the laces. (Presumably to try and carry it away and gnaw on the leather a bit.) He or she decided that that was a bad idea and scurried off when I exclaimed “Hey!” in surprise.

To Catch A Scrub Jay

Scrub Jays are wily beasts. And the Island Scrub Jay is no exception to this rule. I’ve been led (I believe) on purpose to old nests in Florida… and similar events have also happened out here on Santa Cruz. Ben was watching a pair of birds when he spotted the female with lining material. She began to make a flight, most likely to the nest, and then spotted him. So she stopped in the top of the nearest tree and very carefully arranged the lining… in the leaves. There was no platform. Then she looked at him as if to say, “See, here’s my nest.” Needless to say, he was not convinced, so continued watching the birds. A little later the female led him to an obviously very old nest, (cobwebs and all), sat down in it, shuffled around a bit, and looked at him again… “Ok, here’s my nest.” He found the real nest later that morning.

Island Scrub Jays are also just as addicted to “the peanut” as the Florida Jays. This comes in handy when we need to capture the birds for banding purposes. Just over a week ago we needed to capture a few Jays, so we broke out the peanuts and the traps. Our very high tech traps consist of 5 sided boxes with a door on the top made of wire mesh. We prop the box up on a stick, attached to a string, and then place a very enticing pile of peanuts under the trap. It takes a while for the Jays to get comfortable with the whole “new item” in their peanut acquisition, (if they go for it at all.) Throwing a few peanuts closer and closer to the trap gets them a little more comfortable, and eventually, they may be hopping hesitantly under the trap, quickly snapping a peanut up in their bill, then hopping out as fast as they can. If you wait longer, they start to get comfortable. When the bird starts to take its time in the trap, picking out a nice peanut from the pile, you’ve got it in the bag (literally.) At least that’s the process that finally worked for me when I captured the Kennedy female, (I like to call her Jackie.) The next day when I went out to check on her she refused to take a peanut from me…

The process didn’t work for the Obama male, (Barack of course). He was not fooled by the box propped up on the stick. Refused to go in there, even when I wouldn’t give him any peanuts otherwise. He just left me there, holding the string. So we tried another method. Pulled out a mist net, an iPod, and portable speakers. Set up the net in the streambed in the front of his territory, then pulled up a track of Western Scrub Jays alarm calling and the female territorial “rattle call.” Worked like a charm. Obama came bombing in, looking all kinds of angry, wondering where the invaders were. Instead, he was greeted by us, tossing him peanuts near the net. He eagerly hopped to the ground and started selecting the best nut, when Ben rushed him, hoping to flush him into the net. No luck. He spotted the net, mid freak out, and gave a few good pumps of his wings and rose right up over the top. The next few attempts at flushing him in also failed. He knew the net was there and there was no tricking him anymore. We never did catch Obama that trapping bout. We got close to catching Michelle, but I just wasn’t patient enough, didn’t wait until she was comfortable enough to pull the string. She escaped. I learned my lesson, and caught Jackie the next day.

Here’s Michelle giving her head a good scratch about a week after the trapping attempts…

Secret Agent Ornithologists

Picture this: You’re flying through the sky in a helicopter. Headset on. You pull up over a mountain ridge and into the warm orange glow of the rising sun over the Pacific Ocean and a coastal grassland below. The sun off of the water is almost blinding. You can feel the warmth fill up the open cockpit. You momentarily become lost in the moment, fixated on the scene in front of you. You regain enough composure to mutter something about how beautiful it is to the pilot. He agrees… then it’s back to business. GPS unit out. We’ve got some birds to count today. Skids on the ground, you hop out of the helicopter (or back out really, very carefully) and crouch down, trying not to be blown over as the chopper becomes airborne again and leaves you. The birds settle down, and the count begins. How many Island Scrub Jays will I see at this point today? When your time is up at the point, you pull out your radio… “Santa Cruz Chopper, this is Bird Watch Two… I’m ready for pick up.” The sound of helicopter blades beating through the air is soon in your ears. You crouch down and brace yourself for the wind again. With a nod from the pilot you’re safe to approach the chopper, place your bag inside, and carefully climb in. (If all of the skid isn’t on the ground, like when being picked up at a steep point, this carefully climbing in becomes even more important… don’t rock the boat…) Repeat until eleven o’clock.



A typical morning conversation does not include the phrase “Where is the helicopter???” Wondering where your lift in the morning is usually only applies to the fabulously rich, politically important, or your caffeinated beverage of choice. The ISSJ crew this spring (and past fall) out on Cruz has been lucky enough to be part of an island wide survey, attempting to get an idea of just how many Jays there are on the island. We’ve seen some pretty cool spots that not many others have seen before. If we tried to count all our points in typical point count, by foot, fashion, this project would take us an entire season. (or more) With the helicopter we can make quick work of it, blitzing the island in just over a week of flying mornings. We’ve discussed the advantages of having little personal helicopters for checking nests, and nest searching. It certainly would make things easier on a few sections of my plots (where otherwise you’re searching for an opening in the scrub, on a crumbly slope, in order to view the opposite slope, and hopefully spot your study Jays.) Of course, these personal choppers would be silent, in order to be stealth.



I could have used one of those choppers this afternoon, hiking out 20 minutes to a nest to check if the young had fledged. The hike (for the fourth day in a row) was worth it though. Today when I showed up I could see one of the nestlings perched on the edge of the nest... Looking back at me cautiously. I didn't want to get any closer for fear of encouraging the little guy to jump. From where I stood it looked like his 3 siblings had already made the leap at some point during the day. The Island Scrub Jay fledglings are huge. To put it in perspective, I'd say almost as big as a full grown Florida Scrub Jay, or at least the females or small males. (With stubby rectrices of course.) I'll have to go back tomorrow to do the final check on the nest, but things look good for Schwarzenegger... Arnie is such a good dad.

Life on Cruz

Any field job has its quirks. Being at a remote field location lends itself to even more quirks, (and usually epic stories.) While Sheldon certainly was remote, it's not as isolated as living here on Cruz. A half hour car ride (in low 4 wheel drive the whole way), followed by a 2 hour sprint (minus stops for marine mammals spotted on the way), gets you onto the mainland in Ventura, California. When living in remote field locations creativity is best for keeping oneself entertained. For example, today, after thumbing through my Sibley Guide to Western Birds, sitting on a cliff, overlooking the Pacific Ocean, Ben and I decided to drive back towards the field station. We made a pit stop at the orchard along the way. Picked some oranges and one very small avocado. Ate an orange. And then I got the brilliant idea that it would be immensely satisfying to throw a rotten orange at a tree across the road. And it was. All approximately 20 times I did it.

Today was my second trip to the orchard. I will never be able to eat an orange on "the mainland" again without comparing it to the sweetest oranges I have ever tasted, and that is, on Santa Cruz. (This is Anna with an excellent orange.)



Getting around on the island is also an adventure. As I mentioned before, the ride to Prisoner's Harbor, where we Island Jay stalkers land and leave on the island from, is a half hour ride in low 4. All the trucks on Cruz are geared in low 4. Permanently. There is a "wall of shame" in the field station kitchen which has photos posted on a corkboard of all the trucks that have been destroyed over the years. My personal favorite is of the jeep, face down in a narrow canyon, suspended who knows how high over the ground below. The basic rule of thumb on the island is go slow. All the trucks are manual transmissions, so that is a help. Our field crew of 6 all ride in one truck to our sites each morning. 2 in the cab, 4 in the back. Depending on the roughness of the road, (or how cold it is in the morning), we either ride standing up, holding onto a cargo rack, or sitting down in the bed. You've got to keep your eyes out for foliage overhead if standing, otherwise you may end up with a branch to the face. This is harder than it sounds, as the views from the back of the truck are amazing.







Lest you think that I am living the easy life, in an island paradise (which I guess I kind of am... the island paradise part at least), I'd just like to explain the nature of the fieldwork... I throw myself against vegetation for about 6 hours a day. That's the long and short of it. Scrub Jays, Island Jays included, like to nest in scrub... who knew? So, think dense, shrubby, pokey vegetation. Sometimes you get a nice clearing. Then you get poison oak. Or prickly pear cactus. Sometimes you get a super steep slope with all the dirt crumbling out from underneath you. Sometimes you get a boulder strewn stream bed. Sometimes you get to try to walk through dead, dried up fennel. (When this hits you in the face it is not fun.) Sometimes you spend the majority of your time on your hands and knees, or even army crawling to get to where you need to go. Or you sit on your butt and slide down a steep slope, trying not to get too many little rocks down your pants. All this for the birds. To find their nests. To map their territories. To learn what their eating even. Is it worth it? For sure.

Climbing skills come in handy checking this nest (McCain's). See it? Yeah, That's got to be around 15 feet up.



Checking this nest is easy. Right at eye level. And what a good Mom, sitting on the nest even when I'm this close. (Apollo's)

Peanuts in my pockets

Well, I have officially been on Santa Cruz Island in Channel Islands National Park for a week now. I've found my first Jay nests, gotten my first fieldwork bruises, and started working on my watch/ Chaco/ farmer's tan.

The ride out to the island was a two hour boat ride from Ventura California. On the way out we saw about 5 grey whales. The highlights for me though were definitely my first Cassin's and Rhinocerous Auklets, as well as Xantus' Murrelets and a Northern Fulmar. Most of the people on the boat were headed to Scorpion Anchorage, on the National Park Service owned section of the island. Only a few of us stayed on for the final docking at Prisoner's Harbor. From there it was a very bumpy half hour truck ride to our cabins.

And I met my first Island Scrub Jay! Bill Clinton we affectionately refer to him as. (Since he's the breeding male on the territory we've named Clinton.)



The next day it was up nice and early to start nest searching the Island Jays. We have three areas of the island that we visit on a three day rotation. My first day was up at Portezuela, where the territories are named after beers. The second was at Coches, where all the territories have constellation, or otherwise mythological names. The third day was a "field station" day. Basically we just step out the door and can walk to our territories. Field station territories all have political names. (Hence the Clintons. I am also responsible for the McCains, the Kennedeys, Schwarzenegger, or Arnie as I call them, and the current first family, the Obamas. There is also another suspected territory a little further up a canyon, behind the McCains. I haven't decided whether I should go with Perot or Churchill...)

My first day out I "re-found" a nest that we thought was abandoned. The Jays in this particular territory are just glacially slow builders. I'd say that two material carries to the nest confirms that it's still active. I found the Obama's nest a few days later. Again, by chasing down a material carry. (Over rotting logs, under snags, and through curtains of poison oak. No prickly pears on that plot though! Score!) I've been skunked the past few days. Not for lack of trying though. I've been slipping and sliding and scrambling all over the slopes of the canyons my territories are located in.

As a crew we've been attempting to "peanutify" the jays so we can catch them in our traps and band them. We had a very successful day with 4 birds a few days ago, and caught 3 today as well. Scrub Jays love their peanuts. It's an addiction.



I've also seen my first few Island Foxes. They are about the size of a house cat, and incredibly curious. They're not really that scared of people. On the contrary, if you call them, they will come closer to check you out. This is cute when you're up at the cabin, just hanging out. But not so cute when you've just found a nest and you spot a fox swimming through the grass behind you. (That you thought you lost a long time ago... this time you will throw rocks in its general direction to get it to leave.) The foxes have been seen on our videos predating nests, walking on pencil thin twigs, climbing trees. They are cute. But a terror nonetheless. They are also fond of pooping on our deck in the middle of the night, right in the path to the kitchen from the cabins. Needless to say, walking in a half asleep state in the morning to breakfast can be hazardous. It is also not advisable to leave your boots out overnight. The foxes are like little puppies, carrying everything off, somewhere into the scrub oak of the island, most likely to never be seen again.

Life on the island is good. And you can't argue with the backyard view...

If I was going to throw mist net poles... where would I throw them?

The above question guided us to the location of our poles this past week at our offsite banding station at Pine Gulch. We had originally planned on being at the station the previous day... but it was too windy to band. So nets were closed up and disassembled. Normally we set out ropes and poles at Pine Gulch the night before we plan on banding there. This is because often in the past people walking through the park would steal our supplies. We thought that we could leave the poles and ropes out for one day and it would be fine. We hid them under leaves and in the shrubs. But apparently not well enough.

When we showed up the next morning Nora, Kathleen and I began setting up nets like usual... but were quickly foiled. Nora was the first to have a problem. Poles and ropes missing from net 4. Problems at net 5 soon followed. Next, net 1 was missing both sets of poles and all but one rope. things were looking rather complicated when I got to the last net I was setting up. At that net another set of poles and a rope was missing. That's when I spotted a rope attached to a big stick, flung into the blackberry brambles and stinging nettle patch. I waded in, and fished it out. Then I found the poles. Also thrown into a different thorny patch. I began to wonder if this was a pattern. Sure enough, back at net one I found poles and ropes flung into the thorny riparian vegetation. I radioed Nora with my findings, and we began the search for all our missing supplies. It took us about 3 hours of running around, searching for poles and ropes, between net runs, to get all the nets up. By far the best (or worse), location of lost poles was uncovered by Kathleen. While at net 5 she began to think... "If I were going to throw poles, where would I throw them for maximum satisfaction..." The unpleasant answer came quickly: "The creek! Splashes are AWESOME!" Sure enough, when she peered hesitantly over the side of the bridge, there they were. In the deepest part of the creek. So clear that you could see the number five written on them in sharpie. So in she waded. Over her boots. Needless to say, we were not amused. And being stung multiple times by stinging nettle did not enamor us any more to our pranksters.

It's that time of the season again. Nora and I are off tomorrow to our new jobs, and the birds are starting to get into breeding shape. (We've seen our first Brood Patches and Cloacal Protuberances on Song Sparrows...)The migrants are also starting to return. Orange-crowned Warblers can now be heard singing nearly every day. (And we caught two a few days ago!)



The Common Yellowthroats are back. I even spotted an early Wilson's Warbler recently. Western Scrub Jays are carrying nesting material and acting shady. Colin and Sayed have left, and the new Palo interns have started to arrive. It's time for the nomadic field biologist to migrate to new things. I am starting to feel an acute case of zugunruhe. Which is good, because I will very soon be off...

My ferry ticket is booked. I'll be making the trip out to Santa Cruz Island on the morning of the 17th, and will very soon be stalking Island Scrub Jays... locating their nests, banding their legs (and their babies' legs), taking blood samples, and of course, feeding them peanuts.

Rhus diversiloba

I spoke too soon.

I have poison oak.

It started small. A little scrape on my knee. And at first it was no big deal... Then you scratch it absentmindedly. And it itches more. So you scratch. And then it REALLY itches. So you keep on scratching. And then it bleeds. But it feels better now.

After a few more absentminded scratching episodes you notice the little scrape has turned into a little patch. And still itches like crazy. So you try to stop scratching. But most of the time you give in. Interns run at you from across the room to hold your hands in a futile attempt to stop the carnage.

You discover the therapeutic benefits of Technu and a scalding shower. And when I say scalding, I mean it. If the water touches anywhere other than the poison oak that you are trying to scorch you should be yelping in pain. The water on the rash feels like a really intense session of scratching... just without causing the rash to spread. the itching will stop for a few hours after this. The shower treatment also has the added benefit of helping the rash dry out.

Now this may sound like I'm miserable... but really it only itches about 5% of the time. I have a really mild case. When it does itch, it really itches though. I can't imagine having a severe case. This being the first time I've ever gotten Poison Oak or Poison Ivy I'm only dreading the next time I'm bound to run into it on Santa Cruz. Apparently many people have more severe reactions after being exposed for the first time.

I'm hoping I am an exception.

Gung ho fat choy (happy new year)

I decided to take my 4 day extended break while my friend Beth was out visiting me from NH. Our first day was rainy, but we did manage to get a short hike in the redwoods in while the rain temporarily stopped. We had big plans for the next day, so a low key day was just fine.

Saturday we got up bright and early, packed lots of snacks, packed a borrowed San Francisco guide, and drove into the city… Our first stop was Baker Beach in the Presidio. There was a sign placed by the path to the beach warning that people had drowned there while both swimming and just wading. I believed it when I saw the size and violence of the waves hitting that beach. At times the noise was so loud that we nearly had to shout to hear each other.



We made our way down the beach, all the while with the Golden Gate Bridge in our sights.



At the end of the beach there were some pilings… and I attempted to climb one and sit on top of it. I just ended up humping it kind of awkwardly and getting a few splinters. I even tried bringing over a piece of driftwood to stand on top of to give me a bit more leverage. I only gave up when that piece of wood nearly fell out from under me and left me dangling in the air. I think if I had my climbing shoes it would have been possible, but my chucks just didn’t quite cut it. (It was still fun though.)

After we had our fill of the beach we hopped into the car, consulted our directions, and headed for our planned parking garage for the rest of the day. We quickly got lost, despite all the best laid plans, and ended up driving down Lombard Street. The curviest (and arguably steepest) road in the city. (Don’t worry, I didn’t stall the slugmobile and roll into the car behind me at the stop sign on the 10% grade.) After some consulting of our city guide and maps we managed to work our way to the parking garage. After all that work we were hungry… so we ate sushi in Japantown.

We spent the afternoon exploring the area around the embarcadero. There were a bunch of local artists showing and selling their work under tents by the ferry building. We did some browsing, and Beth ended up buying some glass pendants from an artist originally from Londonderry… small world. We explored the fountain and the strange head sculptures. A nice lady with a French accent offered to take our picture goofing off and imitating the grimaces on the heads, but she failed multiple times to get us both in the picture without cutting half of one of our bodies off.




After that we made our way back towards Chinatown in order to stake out a spot on the sidewalk for optimal parade viewing. We waited for an hour for the parade to start, munching on snacks and chatting with the people around us. Kathleen showed up to join us in watching the parade just as it was starting.

The parade was definitely an experience. There were dancing lion troops, spinning teacup people, strange giants on stilts with fireworks at their feet, lots of drum beating, gong smashing, and cymbal crashing, bright glittering floats, multiple dragons a half a block in length carried by at least 20 people, and lots of the color red. The spinning people in teacup costumes wore triangular red sequined hats… and since their hands were trapped in their costumes it must have been hard enough to stay standing after jumping around and spinning, not to mention when your hat slips down over your eyes. I watched one teacup nearly careen into the crowd. His “handler” on the side had to catch and right him, then readjust his hat so he could see again.



My favorite part of the parade was definitely all the dancing lion troops. Two people make up one lion. One for the head, and one for the rear. Most lions had a permanent head and rear… but I watched as one young lion, from a local elementary school, flipped its head and rear when the rear grew tired and began sagging and lagging behind. The lions interacted with the crowds as they made their way down the street. When they came upon a particularly rambunctious section they became even more spirited. Their eyelids and mouths flapped open and shut, they stood up on their hind legs and shimmied their butts.



There were also lots of strange costumes of people, which I’m sure had significance, but what I don’t know. Kathleen said she thought it had something to do with ancestors… all I know is that this guy was kind of creepy.



The dragons were exciting anytime they appeared, and there were many to keep the crowd pleased.






After the parade we were extremely hungry… and cold. So we made our way to Chinatown where we explored some trinket shops, then made our way to a restaurant to eat some real Chinese cuisine in Chinatown. After dinner Kathleen and Beth were drawn into a bakery where they bought authentic pastries for cheap. While they were battling the crowd in the shop I wandered the street a bit and took in the architecture and art.





After wandering around a bit more we decided to call it a night, made our way back to the garage, and managed to find our way out of the city on the first try. (Definitely not Boston driving where the route you need to take changes nearly every week due to some construction project, most likely related to the Big Dig.)

The next day we slept in a little, did some research, and then headed to Sonoma for the afternoon to visit a combined vineyard and olive oil press. While there we did a wine tasting and explored the building, which was an exact replica of the Jacuzzi family home in Italy.



The place was rather fancy. It even had a huge open room with barrels stacked along the walls, candles burning, stained glass windows, and a 3 piece mural from a cathedral in France. This may have been my favorite place on the “estate.” The room smelled sweet, like wine saturated wood, from the barrels along the walls. Nora and I did ballet jumps, cartwheels, and round-offs with our shoes off in the open space.




The back courtyard was complete with a fountain and benches where you could sit and look out over part of the vineyard. We naturally identified any birds we saw.



We felt a little out of place, being the non-classy field biologists that we are. (much more comfortable drinking whiskey and sitting in carharts and flannel) That and we butchered the pronunciation of nearly every wine we wanted to try. Our “bartender” was extremely nice though, and gave us all a lesson on the history of the Jacuzzi wine and family, and educated our fledgling wine connoiseuring skills. We left a little wiser, a little happier, and with 2 bottles of very classy wine.