Category: New Species

He is the mountain streams’ own darling, the humming-bird of blooming waters, loving rocky ripple-slopes and sheets of foam as a bee loves flowers, as a lark loves sunshine and meadows. Among all the mountain birds, none has cheered me so much in my lonely wanderings, —none so unfailingly. For both in winter and summer he sings, sweetly, cheerily, independent alike of sunshine and of love, requiring no other inspiration than the stream on which he dwells. While water sings, so must he, in heat or cold, calm or storm, ever attuning his voice in sure accord; low in the drought of summer and the drought of winter, but never silent.

John Muir: The Mountains of California The Water-Ouzel

Our weekend in the mountains contained a dramatic animal rescue attempt. Off highway 88 at about 4000 feet is a lovely rushing river, meadow and campground. We went to check under the bridge to see if the American Dipper who nested there last year was back again. Dippers are amazing birds, and you would know them instantly if you saw one. In addition to their “namesake” dipping kneebend, they can actually walk along the bottom of the stream bed, under rushing water, hunting for bugs. They typically nest along rockfaces over streams, but have recently been studied using bridges more often. This female had laid her remarkable nest in the underside of the bridge at the middle of the stream, some 40 feet in the air. We watched her bringing food to the young ones, and heard their lovely singing.

Then it happened. PLOP! A hatchling fell from the nest and landed in the rushing snowmelt, quickly sinking. We generated enough public interest to get the young boy wading near it to fish the fellow out of the water and bring it over. Then PLOP! A second casualty. We didn’t know what to do. It would be impossible to put them back, and cruel to leave them to drown. They were so small their eyes weren’t even opened. We weren’t sure why they fell but there were a number of bees circling the nest and that might have had something to do with it. Or there may have been some interloping cowbird eggs laid in that nest who grew faster and pushed the rightful residents out. We will never know.

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So we tucked the bedraggled pair into a bowl, and kept them warm while driving down to the local wildlife rescue center in Jackson. Tri County Wildlife has helped us with several rescues in the past, and are on our regular donations list. I first learned about them when we stumbled acrossed a trapped cornsnake and called the Lindsay Museum for advice: they directed me to the nearby facility. Sadly, one of the hatchlings died in transit, but the other one seemed fairly strong. He was singing and pecking my finger for food all the way down. I’m hopeful his story will have a happy ending. I was reminded though, when I saw the awed faces watching the rescue, that taking care of wildlife nurtures a deep place inside humans as well. Holding those fluttering wings gently in my fingers is a feeling I’m not likely to forget.

I eagerly await the day we see a dipper at the beaver dam. It could happen…

Do you remember the smartest animal from Hundred Acre Wood? Wol was deemed the most intelligent because until Christopher Robin went to school, he was the only animal who could spell his own name. (W-O-L) Martinez had a family of fairly prominent barn owls living in Assmblyman DeSaulneir’s palm tree, and many was the morning I’d stop off after the beavers to watch their progress. In the evenings when we sat outside for dinner we would hear the flap overhead and the chitter of their echolocation, then see them hunting for food. It was through these observations I saw that there were not one but three adults living in this owl colony, and in July photographed a fledging, which I had to add to this film to finish the story.

Humans can make bad decisions about beavers and owls. In September the tree was completely shaved and the owls displaced. I called Assemblyman DeSaulnier’s office in horror and was anxiously assured that it was a decision made by the landlord and they knew nothing about it. Perhaps. Ever since that time I’ve watched closely to see where the family would settle next, and have been disappointed that they remain incognito.

Last week that changed.

On Thursday night we sat on the patio enjoying the shifting weather and heard a familiar sound. THREE owls were flying overhead, hunting for food. I can’t tell you how happy this makes me. This means that they are living somewhere nearby. I’ve been checking all the tall trees in the area for bird droppings and owl pellets without success, but it’s only a matter of time. The owls aren’t far away from their original home, and if we all keep looking up someone will see them soon.

Happy hunting!