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)