Eulachon

Eulachon are small marine fish (8-9 inches in length) that feed on plankton in the eastern Pacific, from Alaska to northern California.  In late winter, they move into estuaries and coastal rivers to spawn; most adults die after this process.  Fertilized eggs, which sink to the gravel beds, hatch in a month and the fry head to sea; there they will live in offshore waters for 3-5 years before returning to spawn.

Heavily laden with fat, the spawning eulachon are known as candlefish (since dried specimens can be lit like candles) and were called "salvation fish" by Native Americans of the Pacific Northwest since their calorie-rich bodies provided vital nutrition during the leans months of late winter and early spring.  Of course, Steller's sea lions, dolphins and sea birds also welcome their spawning runs.

Unfortunately, eulachon have all but disappeared from the coastal rivers of northern California, Oregon and Washington and their numbers have decreased significantly farther north.  Global warming, overfishing, water pollution and altered river sediments (due to hydroelectric dams) are all thought to be playing a role in the population decline of this smelt.

Point Reyes National Seashore

Southwest of Petaluma, California, the Coast Range mellows into a chain of grass covered hills, traversed without mind-numbing switch-backs.  It was across this scenic landscape that we returned to the Pacific Coast, headed for Point Reyes National Seashore.

More than a peninsula along the California Coast, Point Reyes, like much of Southern California, lies on the Pacific Plate, geologically separated from the North American Plate by the San Andreas Fault; the latter passes below Tomales Bay, the Olema Valley and the Bolinas Lagoon, east of the preserve.  Established in 1962, the National Seashore is a mosaic of public and private lands, home to both the Philip Burton Wilderness Area (established in 1976) and a large swath of cattle ranches that date back to the 1850s; it is also home to a herd of tule elk and harbors the Point Reyes Lighthouse, constructed in 1870.  Renowned as an excellent site for whale watching, the lighthouse point was our first destination this morning; unfortunately, high winds and choppy seas impaired our effort to observe whales.  However, we were entertained by a noisy congregation of elephant seals on Drake Beach and were inspired by spectacular seascapes across the peninsula.

After leaving Point Reyes, we headed for San Francisco, enduring innumerable hairpin turns as we climbed over the Coast Range for a final time.  We then traversed the majestic Golden Gate Bridge, clogged with vehicles and walkers alike on this mild, sunny Sunday and headed for famous attractions along the city's waterfront.  Though we enjoyed a pleasant meal overlooking the Bay, the congestion of San Francisco was hard to take after a week on the road and we set our sights on Yosemite National Park; after a night in the Great Central Valley, we'll head to the Park tomorrow.

Counting on the Coast

Today was designated Global Big Day by eBird, an effort to assess the health and diversity of avian populations across the planet.  Since we planned a morning visit to Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens, just south of Fort Bragg, California, I decided to submit my observations from that location.

As we walked through the fabulous gardens, more birds were heard than seen but the wide diversity of foliage attracted an excellent variety of species; in addition, since the gardens extend to cliffs above the Pacific, a number of sea birds were observed.  Highlights of the morning count (which totaled 30 species) included pigeon guillemots, pelagic cormorants, Allen's hummingbird, olive-sided flycatchers, Steller's jays and a large number of white-crowned sparrows.  While my contribution to Global Big Day was modest, I was honored to participate and certainly enjoyed the experience.

South of the Gardens, we visited a magnificent sand dunes ecosystem at Manchester State Park and enjoyed a long, scenic hike to sea cliffs at Salt Point State Park.  Sea fog slowed our journey to Jenner where we turned inland, climbing along the beautiful Russian River; passing through the Coast Range, we escaped the fog and settled in a hotel room along Route 101.  Tomorrow we plan to visit the Point Reyes National Seashore before heading into San Francisco.

A Kite, Whales and a Glass Beach

Early this morning, my wife and I visited the Humboldt Bay NWR, just south of Eureka, California.  Once a vast saltwater marsh, the basin was later drained for agriculture and has since been restored for the benefit of resident and migrant water birds; riparian woodlands, cattail marshes, sloughs, lakes and tidal flats characterize the preserve.  During our visit, we were fortunate to observe a white-tailed kite (formerly known as a black-shouldered kite), a beautiful and common resident of the refuge and a new "lifer" for me; we also encountered black phoebes, California quail and a large flock of marbled godwits.

After our visit to the refuge, we headed south on Route 101, climbing along the scenic valley of the Eel River and its South Fork.  We then switched to Route 1, enduring countless hairpin turns as we crossed the Coastal Range.  Emerging along the Pacific Coast, our patience was rewarded with spectacular seascapes all the way to Fort Bragg.  Nearing that city, we turned into MacKerricher State Park, where we walked out to Seal Point and watched harbor seals as they lounged on the sea stacks or cruised the clear waters beneath the overlook.  While observing the seals, my wife noticed "whale spouts" far out to sea; close inspection with my binoculars revealed four humpback whales, identified by the contour of their backs and by their habit of raising their massive flukes as they dove to feed.  Needless to say, the sighting of these magnificent cetaceans was one of the highlights of our road trip to date.

But we could not end our day without visiting the "Glass Beach," in Fort Bragg.  Once used as a city dump site, the beach was reclaimed by the sea which sorted and recycled the debris, leaving smooth pebbles of glass amidst the shells and sand.  Once this beach of glass gained nationwide fame, visitors flocked to the site, walking off with samples of nature's handiwork.  As too often characterizes man's relationship with nature, we first abuse her ecosystems and then take advantage of her restorative powers; alas, the glass of Glass Beach is rapidly disappearing.

The Redwood Coast

The Siskiyou Mountains stretch from southwestern Oregon into northwestern California, separating the watershed of the Rogue River (to their north) from that of the Klamath River (to their south).  This morning, we drove northwest from Medford, Oregon, descending through the Rogue River Valley; after crossing the Rogue at Grants Pass, we headed southwest on Route 199, climbing back through its watershed along the Applegate and Illinois Rivers, two of its major tributaries.  Passing through the Collier Tunnel, we left the Rogue River watershed and entered that of the Smith River, which drains the southwestern end of the Siskiyous.

Descending along the Middle Fork of the Smith River, we stopped at the Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park and explored the Stout Grove, one of the more pristine and scenic stands of redwood forest in California; walking among those giants, their shade supporting a rich understory of ferns, one is both inspired and humbled.  Moving on to Crescent City, we observed massive seabird colonies (mostly common murres) on Castle Rock and visited Point St. George where we encountered ospreys, black oystercatchers, whimbrels, black scoters, brown pelicans and a host of shorebirds; the highlight was provided by a peregrine falcon that swooped down at close range to snare an unwary sandpiper.

Heading south on Highway 101, we encountered herds of Roosevelt elk, drove through more stands of majestic redwoods and stopped at numerous overlooks to scan the ocean for whales, sea birds and sea lions.  While we failed to observe whales on this cool, foggy day, we did find a large colony of noisy pinnipeds, crowding a sea stack near Trinidad.  Tomorrow we continue our journey down the California coast.

Deluge in Houston

The ongoing deluge in Houston, Texas, is the product of a stalled cold front in East Texas and a "blocking high" over the eastern U.S.  The latter dome of high pressure has caused the cold front to become stationary and, at the same time, is funneling a plume of Gulf moisture into the area.  In the Northern Hemisphere, winds flow clockwise around high pressure domes and, in this case, are sweeping across the Gulf of Mexico and into Metro Houston; there, the cold front lifts the moisture-laden air, producing copious precipitation.

In northwest Houston, more than 15 inches of rain have fallen, 5 inches more than the previous record for the entire month of April.  As one might expect, severe flooding is widespread, snarling traffic, damaging structures and threatening lives.  As I write this post, the dome and its moisture plume are slowly shifting eastward and rain is beginning to dissipate in the city.

Indeed, the western edge of the high pressure dome is now entering Louisiana and Gulf moisture is streaming northward along the cold front.  Here in central Missouri, the band of heavy rain and its imbedded thunderstorms are nearing Columbia and should arrive by early evening; two days of rain are forecast before the dome and the front move on to the east.

The Octopus Family

Members of the Class Cephalopoda within the Phyla Mollusca, about 300 species of octopus are found in Temperate and Tropical seas across the globe.  Having first evolved during the Carboniferous Period (some 300 million years ago), they now inhabit a wide range of ocean habitats, favoring coral reefs and rocky areas near islands, shelfs or seamounts.

While some grow to 5 feet in length and weigh up to 25 pounds, most species are much smaller; on the other hand, the Giant Pacific octopus may reach 30 feet in length and weigh up to 600 pounds.  All feed primarily on a host of marine crustaceans and mollusks and evade predation themselves by the use of camouflage, by swiftly retreating to a protective crevice within rock or coral and by releasing a cloud of ink that temporarily blinds and confuses the predator; should one of its eight arms be snared by an enemy, the octopus is able to regrow another.  Venomous saliva, employed to stun prey, is seldom used for self-protection; however, the bite of the blue-ringed octopus, a small Australian species, can be fatal to humans.

Though most species of octopus live for less than two years (males die after spawning and females after protecting her eggs until they hatch), they are known to be relatively intelligent creatures, capable of using crude tools and demonstrating the ability to learn and memorize behaviors that enhance their survival.

The Laurentian Divide

The Continental Divide of North America stretches from Alaska to Mexico, generally following the Brooks Range and Rocky Mountain corridor; this divide is commonly known to separate the streams flowing toward the Pacific Ocean from those draining toward the Atlantic Ocean and Gulf of Mexico.  Actually, the northern section of the Continental Divide, from Alaska through the Yukon Territory of Canada, separates streams flowing toward the Pacific from those flowing into the Arctic Ocean.  As far south as the U.S.-Canada border, it divides streams heading for the Pacific from those flowing toward Hudson Bay.

Geographers and hydrologists thus recognize the Laurentian Divide (also known as the Northern Divide), which stretches west to east between the Continental Divide and the Labrador Sea, dividing streams that flow northward to the Arctic or to Hudson Bay from those that flow southward toward the Gulf of Mexico or eastward to the Atlantic Ocean.  From Triple Divide Peak in Glacier National Park, this divide straddles the U.S.-Canada border through Montana, separating the watersheds of the Saskatchewan and Missouri Rivers.  Farther east, it angles southeastward through North Dakota and then northeastward through Minnesota, dividing the watershed of the Red River (which flows northward to Lake Winnipeg and thence northeast to Hudson Bay via the Nelson River) from those of the Missouri, Minnesota and Mississippi Rivers.  Running north of the Great Lakes, the Laurentian Divide follows the northern edge of the St. Lawrence watershed, eventually running atop the crest of the Laurentian Mountains as they curve through Quebec and Labrador.

The Laurentian Divide ends at the mouth of the Hudson Strait on the Labrador Sea.  While some argue that Hudson Bay and its Strait are hydrologically part of the Atlantic Basin (which they are), the ecology of the Hudson Bay region is closer to that of the Arctic than to Temperate latitudes to the south.  For purists, the Arctic Divide runs north of the Saskatchewan watershed and north of Hudson Bay, demarcating the southern edge of various watersheds (including that of the MacKenzie River) that empty into the Arctic Ocean.

Gannets on the Horizon

After several days of a persistent east wind, the Gulf of Mexico was smooth as glass this morning.  Unfortunately, the resident birds were unimpressed and, during our two mile walk along the beach, we encountered only small numbers of shorebirds, least terns, brown pelicans and double-crested cormorants.

However, whenever I stopped to scan the calm sea, I observed flocks of northern gannets on the horizon, diving for their breakfast; at one point, a few moved closer to shore and could be observed without binoculars.  After breeding on rocky cliffs along the northern Atlantic Ocean (see Gannets of Bird Rock and Bonaventure Island National Park), these large sea birds disperse across the Atlantic for the winter months, where juveniles remain year-round until old enough to breed.  In North America, they may be observed off the East Coast, from the Canadian Maritimes to the Gulf of Mexico.

Today's events highlight the importance of knowing what to look for, having the patience to stop and scan the environment and having the tools (binoculars or spotting scopes) to observe distant wildlife. What may have been an unproductive birding walk proved to be far more interesting.

Streaming Mergansers

Our Longboat Key condo sits on an inlet of Sarasota Bay and offers a view of the main channel, framed by mangrove islands.  Late this morning, while watching white pelicans, egrets and roseate spoonbills along the inlet, I saw a line of red-breasted mergansers flying low across the bay, passing behind the islands.  To my delight, the streaming flock continued to pass for ten minutes or more, likely composed of at least 2000 ducks.

Unlike their cousins (common and hooded mergansers), which winter on open freshwater lakes and rivers across much of North America, red-breasted mergansers prefer coastal bays and estuaries, where they feed with pelicans, cormorants, loons, ospreys and other sea birds.  There they gather in huge flocks, diving for fish and joining in the feeding frenzies that often develop at low tide.

Indeed, of all the sea birds that winter on Sarasota Bay, red-breasted mergansers are likely the most abundant.  On some days, only a few are encountered while, on others, these attractive ducks nearly cover the inlet.

Atlantic Needlefish

One of the more interesting predators along our seawall is the Atlantic needlefish.  These streamlined, long-jawed fish dart about a barnacle-encrusted rock pile at a bend in the wall, snaring small fish with their numerous sharp teeth; young needlefish, tiny replicas of the adults, hunt in schools, feeding on a host of marine invertebrates.  The needlefish themselves are potential prey for larger fish, inshore sharks and dolphins.

Found along the western coast of the Atlantic Ocean, from Maine to Brazil, these distinctive fish favor shallow, calm, brackish waters near mangroves, marinas, piers and seawalls.  Tolerant of freshwater, many travel up coastal rivers and some have been found as far inland as the Tennessee River watershed (having traversed canals from Gulf Coast streams).  Spawning occurs in May or June, the eggs harboring tendrils that attach to aquatic vegetation.

While Atlantic needlefish are officially listed as gamefish (adults may reach 2-3 feet in length), they are more often caught accidentally and are generally used as bait.  Some of us, not inclined to drown worms for recreation, simply enjoy watching these "saltwater gar" as they zoom about the shallows of Sarasota Bay.

Convict Fish

Of all the fish that congregate along our seawall on Sarasota Bay, sheepshead are among the most common.  Often called "convict fish" due to their prominent black and silver stripes, sheepshead are medium-sized marine fish, found along the western Atlantic Coast from Nova Scotia to Brazil; their numbers are especially high in southwest Florida.

Favoring inshore, brackish habitats, sheepshead are best found near mangroves, piers, jetties, seawalls and tidal creek inlets.  They are omnivorous predators, consuming small fish, crustaceans, aquatic insects, a host of marine invertebrates and some aquatic plants.  Come March and April, sheepshead move offshore to spawn but still prefer to gather near human structures or natural reefs.

Members of the porgy and seabream family, which is represented by more than 120 species worldwide, convict fish are prized for their mild, white flesh and are commonly placed in aquariums due to their attractive markings.  Natural predators include a variety of inshore sharks and large fish.

Red-throated Loons

Having encountered my first red-throated loons along the coast of South Carolina yesterday, I thought it might be a good time to review the nature of this bird.  This smallest member of the loon family breeds across northern Alaska, Canada and Greenland, nesting in tundra ponds and wetlands.  In winter, it is found on coastal marine waters from Alaska to the Baja and from Newfoundland to Georgia.

Red-throated loons are monogamous and both parents take part in nest building and in caring for the young.  Two eggs are generally laid in a mound of vegetation that is placed onshore or directly in shallow water; hatchlings are fed aquatic insects while the adults feed on a wide variety of fish and crustaceans.  Unlike their cousins, these smaller, thinner loons do not transport young on their backs and are able to take off from land or the water surface without a running start.

While the adults lose their distinctive red and gray markings in the non-breeding season, wintering birds are identified by the white and gray pattern on their head and neck, by their slight build and by their habit of holding both their head and bill in an upturned position (in the manner of much larger cormorants).  Indeed, it was this latter behavior that first caught my attention; as veteran birders know, common species are often quickly identified by their silhouette and mannerisms and any unusual appearance or behavior demands closer inspection.

From Mountains to the Sea

Yesterday morning, driving south from Wytheville, Virginia, the splendor of the Ridge and Valley Province spread out before us, backed by the higher terrain of the Blue Ridge.  Upon reaching the crest of the latter, near the Virginia-North Carolina border, we enjoyed a spectacular view of the Carolina Piedmont, stretching away to the south.

After passing Lake Norman, northwest of Charlotte, we continued southward through the Catawba River Valley to Columbia, South Carolina; there we turned east toward the Atlantic Ocean, crossing the Wateree, Black, Great Pee Dee and Little Pee Dee Rivers en route, each flanked by wooded swamplands.

Our destination was the home of relatives along the South Carolina coast; there we were greeted by cloudy and unusually cold weather and decided to delay our beach walk until this morning.  Enticed to the shore by a warmer breeze and partly cloudy skies, our three mile walk offered fresh air, exercise and good birding as well.  Semipalmated plovers, willets and sanderlings foraged on the beach while black scoters, brown pelicans, double-crested cormorants and northern gannets fed offshore; joining these sea birds were a few red-throated loons, a first for my life list (an event that rarely happens after 40 years of birding).