tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80859316763318919592024-03-20T05:40:14.917-07:00coyotescribeThis blog began as a journal about rescuing seabirds. Then it expanded, moving over to wordpress in 2010 @coyotescribe. I'm a musician, songwriter, and writer--now with a completed novel.#amquerying - I've always been sensitive to departed spirits, makes for good storytelling.coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-7170266484623004402010-01-07T11:04:00.000-08:002010-01-07T11:07:53.438-08:00Experimental Blogging...<a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_1262890888650"></span><span id="goog_1262890888651"></span>trying on another pair of blog shoes over at wordpress:<br />
<a href="http://coyotescribe.wordpress.com/">http://coyotescribe.wordpress.com/</a>coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-975320473960648022009-12-19T12:57:00.000-08:002009-12-27T08:56:43.515-08:00The Sacrosanctity of Your Writing Space<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj_r7AIYEps-ATPBuDKCt2Pz5jfrUNN0YT960qPyyjXZFvo1thfuZRdWEQ3d5IxHJgaN6wrePP92hu9RKEtefV_x5LqBukPlJASk82GQakgT4W1_Gp7GnrPsGykmYbfazxMNS0uA7BDKNH/s1600-h/packing+chaos-6-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj_r7AIYEps-ATPBuDKCt2Pz5jfrUNN0YT960qPyyjXZFvo1thfuZRdWEQ3d5IxHJgaN6wrePP92hu9RKEtefV_x5LqBukPlJASk82GQakgT4W1_Gp7GnrPsGykmYbfazxMNS0uA7BDKNH/s320/packing+chaos-6-logo.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">No one should have to move while enmeshed in the writing of the great American novel. But I just did. Sixty-three thousand words into it, and my husband and I decide to downsize. For good reasons, though. Not because we’re in dire straits, but because we shifted our priorities.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now, there's one thing I would never do, not in a million years, and that is: display photos of my writing space. I’m not even sure when I discovered this mythical taboo, but I have to tell you, I think it came down from on-high, and not from mouths of men. In my gut, I have always known, ever since I started to write, to never cross that line, that this was more than mere superstition.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It’s possible a writing instructor or two has reinforced the inviolability of exposing your inner sanctum during otherwise discussions about the high stakes poker games of storytelling, and maintaining some semblance of mystery. But right before I packed up my computer at my old writing space, I decided it was not in violation to snap a few photos of the old chamber, provided certain failsafe guidelines were followed. (See 7 guidelines below.)<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What initially gave me the idea for this essay was seeing a gosh-dern writers contest online, which was soliciting submissions from wordsmiths, asking writers everywhere to send in photos of their writing spaces. Shouldn't a writers website know better? Flickr is propagandizing this stuff, too. Writers are exposing themselves all over the web.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I’m sorry, but putting up a photo of your sacred space for public scrutiny is like opening the inside of your tomb. Only your unseen in-mates should know what goes on in there, and your most intimate friends. Take photos of your dog or cat, not your writing space. (Notice I have even swirled the inside of a picture still haging on the wall of my old space, so no one can discern its meaning. But showing one of my feline familiars is okay.)<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3jyxLndFl-R7SN8MJ0Y_DPNIosKSz4e4_149RruWrF2k-HJ4BtnIXjoznp_Q4d1WmXTC4chSa9eHmbh8yW9mZ06AEl7B0ANtE6WDFXKqcGS3RK-ktd1yyw3fy115HotOvKobcBRBy9Lac/s1600-h/packing+chaos-4-cropped-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3jyxLndFl-R7SN8MJ0Y_DPNIosKSz4e4_149RruWrF2k-HJ4BtnIXjoznp_Q4d1WmXTC4chSa9eHmbh8yW9mZ06AEl7B0ANtE6WDFXKqcGS3RK-ktd1yyw3fy115HotOvKobcBRBy9Lac/s320/packing+chaos-4-cropped-logo.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Trust me. Your writing space should be treated as sacrosanct; it is your altar of creativity, your manifold of ideas, your deepest darkest secrets wafting amid the collective dust of writer’s block and ecstatic breakthroughs. It’s personal! What you conjure here is supposed to be enfolded into words, painstakingly gathered and collected amid bookshelves, writing pads, scribbled scraps, dust bunnies, and preserved for eternity in the fallen crumbs of your gluten-free muffin. Your writing space is not for public consumption. You’re already on the chopping block with every word you write—someone out there just might see your work—so don’t give it up with a “picture worth a thousand words.” Yikes! Put it instead in your manuscript. I’m just saying, “Just don’t do it!”...<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">...that is, unless you’re leaving it behind, like I did. And only after you’ve stowed away all your loot. When my old writing space was emptied and compacted, reshuffled and organized, and safely stashed inside U-Haul book boxes, I decided to chronicle the empty shell that was now devoid of my secrets. My old writing space had already served its time. And as for me, I had already gleaned all I ever would from its confines. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here are the FAILSAFE GUIDELINES...<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If you must expose anything about your writing space, do so only under these conditions:<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1. You’re physically moving it to another location.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2. You’ve emptied all your shelves, and there’s not one book left in sight.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3. There's no chance you'll ever write in that space again. Not ever.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnbgNtFXY4XU9KLYUX7GHAfY-Oaa9Iau3elPRAs8_Sq5IsbbEGuBkZMndqUvk54ZWAi7oWF0okxJNndNlJ4RhcGKwmJas71XSK199cO0KpBQ83cZTjE5euF_mARmnX61ddgADOkq0_bo3K/s1600-h/packing+chaos-2-liquified-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnbgNtFXY4XU9KLYUX7GHAfY-Oaa9Iau3elPRAs8_Sq5IsbbEGuBkZMndqUvk54ZWAi7oWF0okxJNndNlJ4RhcGKwmJas71XSK199cO0KpBQ83cZTjE5euF_mARmnX61ddgADOkq0_bo3K/s320/packing+chaos-2-liquified-logo.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">4. Photos of boxes are okay, as long as they’re sealed, and no one can read what’s written on them. (I have liquefied the text on the boxes in my photographs that violate this rule.)<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfxH2zT1IyAK9ltWMMlkIFhOgAB-JSqHXFkRM0_9nePBk-WtVFQkJMzUhOw2KCG1o1aPdngSvgYq1JyNnZGjTOLFbCBjKpGmox5rxF3qozhQs4wMvuKShZWrWo03PcnUQWGeMWUXQUwnoT/s1600-h/packing+chaos-5-liquified-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfxH2zT1IyAK9ltWMMlkIFhOgAB-JSqHXFkRM0_9nePBk-WtVFQkJMzUhOw2KCG1o1aPdngSvgYq1JyNnZGjTOLFbCBjKpGmox5rxF3qozhQs4wMvuKShZWrWo03PcnUQWGeMWUXQUwnoT/s320/packing+chaos-5-liquified-logo.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">5. If you’re trying to impress anyone, even with the image of the empty shell of your old writing space, it’ll jinx the quality of your work in the future, the same as it would in your writing. [Remember: the act of writing itself can reveal more about you than perhaps you think you know. So monitor yourself, because your negative ego always lies: “This’ll impress ‘em.” Same goes for photographs of your writing space. One of the reasons your writing space is sacred is, it's where you deal with your shadow, as well as that pesky ego.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">6. On the occasion you’re trying to show how derelict your writing space is--messy, oppressive, meek, sparse, cluttered--that, too, is a BIG no-no. Because you’re still trying to impress someone. It’s merely the flipside of point #5’s coin.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">7. Regarding utility strangers visiting your onsite space: phone jack installers, DSL people, electric and gas men, or someone like the piano moving guy who just delivered my repaired fallboard. These are unavoidable circumstances, and for the most part, these people don’t count, as they’re “on the job” themselves, and not really interested in your space.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">Now, if you want to mitigate someone's probing curiosity about why your desk is sitting under the chandelier in the dining room, what you do is act like it’s no big deal. Don’t bring attention to yourself by exhibiting morbidity (or arrogance) in the face of exposure. Also, another thing you can do is, put a protective light around yourself and your space beforehand. (I like to use the colors of the rainbow because it gives me more vividness in my visualization, as well as protecting the full spectrum of me, represented by my seven chakras: safety/security (red), creativity/sexuality (orange), power and emotions (yellow), things of the heart (green), communication (blue), intuition and sensitivity (indigo), and my connection to the divine (violet or white). Like I said, all the colors of the rainbow.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I hope in some small way these guidelines help preserve the sanctity of writing spaces everywhere. Sending best wishes to everyone for a wonder-filled holiday season, and a new year that brings many new possibilities to light.<br />
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</div>coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-37551915019035461382009-10-31T12:57:00.000-07:002018-01-16T19:21:52.281-08:00New York Won't Leave Me Alone!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJUO0lmDNYLpFqTXISgr3cunXeLzFtOjz1WHU2GjkL4UzmX1BCo2n19Rc7scx3HO5_FXDwA3RzFvRtwKoGhOaCtzKpWVooBlceaJUux6_GSk-j33m6KfH9OUheL6ia4OPBn331pZn7hHjh/s1600-h/New+York+header-small-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJUO0lmDNYLpFqTXISgr3cunXeLzFtOjz1WHU2GjkL4UzmX1BCo2n19Rc7scx3HO5_FXDwA3RzFvRtwKoGhOaCtzKpWVooBlceaJUux6_GSk-j33m6KfH9OUheL6ia4OPBn331pZn7hHjh/s320/New+York+header-small-logo.jpg" vr="true" /></a><br />
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I thought I was a California girl. From the time I was four years old I knew I'd be living here one day, just didn't know when. In 1957 I flew with my mother and little brother on American Airlines from Indianapolis to Los Angeles. During the flight I became a qualified Junior Stewardess, which entitled me to wear the official ring. It would be the last time I'd ever see my great-grandfather. During our stay in Los Angeles, my mother took us to visit the empty-seated Hollywood Bowl. This is where I made first contact with the spirits of entertainment, while climbing the stairs between rows of benches. I also knew I'd be back. Twenty-six years later I packed everything I owned into my old van and drove myself and my dreams to the California Coast.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWr5qXr_M_ClJke_mf8va4DY7NxCQ8-4UlFzqYPElAIRmWa3gqoBjxO7ubGW2Gde2W2CQdC7zQwFBGkM6of4OQA8aF0G0TMvhQiwteyi1L46GutIQTDgykOcr1F2iIJIqyVCIzvzbSo1f3/s1600-h/Dec-1957-Tysa-Hollywood+Bowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWr5qXr_M_ClJke_mf8va4DY7NxCQ8-4UlFzqYPElAIRmWa3gqoBjxO7ubGW2Gde2W2CQdC7zQwFBGkM6of4OQA8aF0G0TMvhQiwteyi1L46GutIQTDgykOcr1F2iIJIqyVCIzvzbSo1f3/s320/Dec-1957-Tysa-Hollywood+Bowl.jpg" vr="true" /></a></div>
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So... <em>What the hell does that have to do with New York?</em></div>
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Well, it seems New York got under my skin and left this California girl in quite a tizzy. Other places have found their way into my misty recesses over the years. But not until September 2009 did I take such a plunge into deep mysterious waters. I had given myself permission to go visit a friend on the Upper West Side, for no other reason than to reconnect with her, and with the city I barely knew. I suspected New York was going to change me; I just didn't know how much. Below is the view from my girlfriend's apartment. She lives in one of the Trump Place towers along Riverside Boulevard overlooking the Hudson River. I hung my camera out through the narrow window opening to get this shot:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJY2BMQp2HHj6U-JKDC4uI2r4GqJaHjDBlnkH9xiDtvxbUheMVAgxg0QTU46E0Gl36UJu3fGJ0FtYinLoq1e4uBZYRTOP8HhYcoRcu_bXmShyphenhyphenw5yWw4B-j8FpAhcMPjFwV2-hec17NUEg9/s1600-h/view+from+apartment-1-small-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJY2BMQp2HHj6U-JKDC4uI2r4GqJaHjDBlnkH9xiDtvxbUheMVAgxg0QTU46E0Gl36UJu3fGJ0FtYinLoq1e4uBZYRTOP8HhYcoRcu_bXmShyphenhyphenw5yWw4B-j8FpAhcMPjFwV2-hec17NUEg9/s320/view+from+apartment-1-small-logo.jpg" vr="true" /></a></div>
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I had only been in New York on two other occasions in my life. The first time was early in my childhood, before the Twin Towers were built. It's only a vague memory, one remote feeling accompanied by the view from the Empire State Building. It's all I remember, but the memory is infused by the image of what I saw that day.</div>
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My second visit to New York came in 1980, while I was touring with <a href="http://www.wildcoyotes.com/LittleRockmontage.html" target="_blank"><b>Little Rock</b></a>, a Nashville-based show rock group. Four significant things happened while I was in the city this time. One good, and three bad. First, the good thing: I and the two other girls in the band got to take a voice lesson with Bette Midler's vocal coach, Sue Seton. Toni, our band leader, passed Gilda Radner on her way in. At the time Gilda was performing her one-woman show on Broadway.</div>
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Bad things one and two: My Korg Synthe-Bass was stolen out of Donna's car, along with my favorite antique necklace with the green triangle-shaped glass stone, and I got a ticket in Central Park when Toni's friend's dog (notice I am twice removed from this dog) finagled his way off his leash.</div>
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Bad thing number three: (A side note: I believe there was intervention here from forces beyond this world, otherwise I'd be dead.) This is when I first drove into New York and got lost after my first turn past the bridge. I ended up in Harlem. Now how could this have happened?</div>
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First of all, I'd been driving for two days nonstop from Columbus, Ohio, a journey which had its own mystical episode, one that's earmarked for a chapter in my back-burnered "On the Road" memoir ("What A Fool Believes") about a non-famous keyboard player obsessed with a famous keyboard player. I had been driving Donna's car. Donna was Little Rock's front singer, along with Toni. Both of them kicked ass, I'm telling you. But Donna let me drive her car to Columbus, my home base, so she could traipse off to New York with Toni in one of the Little Rock vans. Below is said car and van in question:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzA6j8jY7F2cDvv9VuYPaXG4-R2qhU1h0Fls8cShfBFuaj9NdpWWKWxC56YufPVyi5OlCdu3f5m09lNwaxGJ-6Qg8QMaNLXFN2mTwlCcxf4P8Q0D-5ncQD9YTXV0NTDL0fEYt8k9p4QrCM/s1600-h/Breakdown-1-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzA6j8jY7F2cDvv9VuYPaXG4-R2qhU1h0Fls8cShfBFuaj9NdpWWKWxC56YufPVyi5OlCdu3f5m09lNwaxGJ-6Qg8QMaNLXFN2mTwlCcxf4P8Q0D-5ncQD9YTXV0NTDL0fEYt8k9p4QrCM/s320/Breakdown-1-logo.jpg" vr="true" /></a></div>
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Okay, so I was lost. In Harlem. How I got there I have no idea. It was dark, not a lot of street lighting; the streets were empty this late at night. I stopped at a gas station that appeared to be open to get some directions. A drooling double-fanged German Shepherd was perched on the concrete stoop in front of the gas station entrance, ominously lit by a blinking tubular light. So what did I do? I got out of the car, squirrelly from driving for two days. And wouldn't you have guessed: that dog charged after me like a ravenous wolf to a rabbit. I think I left my body because it seemed like the deafening death-barks that numbed out my eardrums were penetrating me from all sides. I was a goner. But at the last minute the gas station watchman screamed his lungs out at the dog, "Fido, Stop!" Miracles of all miracles: the dog obeyed. The guy couldn't believe my balls, I know it. Afterward I couldn't believe them either. But I got my directions and found my way into Manhattan. I later wondered if the gas station attendant knew he had named his dog the same name Abraham Lincoln named his dog.</div>
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Okay, with that preamble, flash-forward to September 2009. Here's the deal:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCmOTZ4OAehvaMCP4KeZsjYgfR7FGWnOwGBzSPinmkYI2WYoVhG4lqzbqv2L0aAGWtGtWxDpCNoQfYVDloPp2UfHykrgZUcEeoKTMyLWWCRDhJpdA-Re09jpmANqaM7kCSMy8d-dyOtrMD/s1600-h/Central+Park-buildings-mist-small-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCmOTZ4OAehvaMCP4KeZsjYgfR7FGWnOwGBzSPinmkYI2WYoVhG4lqzbqv2L0aAGWtGtWxDpCNoQfYVDloPp2UfHykrgZUcEeoKTMyLWWCRDhJpdA-Re09jpmANqaM7kCSMy8d-dyOtrMD/s320/Central+Park-buildings-mist-small-logo.jpg" vr="true" /></a></div>
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New York captured my spirit and stirred my soul, so much so that I don't think I'll ever be satisfied in this life until I get my own apartment overlooking Central Park. I know I'm not going to stop until I have achieved that dream. And of course I wouldn't stop there, because, well... I'd be in New York!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3PsRV7RmST2yuvRlZBNUFbfi9E0EKjzj4zM8-doNW6t-nNUsB7a3g3wl7LGF7-yNwt1vERhMUOKftaWGsYWKsD-GGeZKIoMGYYfKdBzcnDzquj9l3FEs8xRPvIFdlOcyUtTMPf0FHvyN/s1600-h/Central+Park+Trees-2-small-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3PsRV7RmST2yuvRlZBNUFbfi9E0EKjzj4zM8-doNW6t-nNUsB7a3g3wl7LGF7-yNwt1vERhMUOKftaWGsYWKsD-GGeZKIoMGYYfKdBzcnDzquj9l3FEs8xRPvIFdlOcyUtTMPf0FHvyN/s320/Central+Park+Trees-2-small-logo.jpg" vr="true" /></a></div>
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Its hold on me is beyond logic, and my comprehension. I told my friend Teresa, first up I wanted to go to Ground Zero to lend whatever energy I could, even if but a little. I wanted to be present with the space left by 9-11. We arrived by subway, and when I looked over the construction site, I could feel hope, and that surprised me. The city had wrapped herself around the wound, and she seemed to be contributing vibrant and unmistakable energy to the healing of this sacred space...</div>
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Every majestic building surrounding Ground Zero was keeping ever-faithful watch, holding the ground solid beneath its own structure.</div>
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And though the Empire State Building seeks the limelight no longer, it still stands a powerful monolith of a nation's unshakable will.</div>
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While I was in New ork so many things happened supposedly by happenstance, in this serendipitous land of make believe. The city challenges you, gives you a nudge, makes you look inside yourself and feel the vibration in the rhythm of your walk down Fifth Avenue.</div>
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People you didn't think you'd see appear in beautiful regalia. This bride and groom were walking the streets, still basking in their wedding. The bride looked at me, and I was grateful for her smile, though the video photographer next to me probably wished she was looking at him.</div>
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People, yes, but also other beings appeared. A gnome at the edge of Central Park made himself known to my camera, letting me perceive the thin veil between worlds. The nature spirit of earth delivered a message: "You won't be able to stay away. Gotcha!"</div>
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Wondrous shadows, building shadows, a tall dark forest of intrigue, and Sophie's Cuban Cuisine sign swaying in the tunneled breeze.</div>
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And then in a twinkling I heard on a roof, Norah Jones Chasing Pirates in a video shoot.</div>
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I zoomed in my lens, tore open the shutter. Looked through my viewfinder, wanting to see better.</div>
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(Sorry about the poetry. Just trying to get the New Yorker to take notice.) New York has so many dichotomies. There was a Goddess Festival near the Battery Wall. I just had to get a picture of this keyboard player. The Goddess herself stood in the background, New York Harbor's beacon of welcoming.</div>
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Interestingly enough, before my friend and I could even get over to the festival, we were stopped by a female secret service agent near the Ritz-Carlton. She put her arms up and told us we couldn't cross the street. We asked why, but she wouldn't tell us. She held us back until an entourage of black SUV's zoomed out of the hotel, accompanied by NYPD cruisers.</div>
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Since there were no reporters, this must've been a hush-hush event. I tried to capture whoever it was in the big black van. After the entourage had passed, we were allowed to cross the street to Battery Park. I decided to try asking the secret service agent again who was in that big black van, and she relented: "The President of Iraq." Jalal Talabani in New York! And there we were, Teresa and I, witnesses.</div>
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Later we "happened" to find ourselves standing in front of the National Museum of the American Indian, housed in the Alexander Hamilton U.S. Custom House. For three years I have been researching several tribes of Native American people for two different story projects: my current novel and a screenplay that waits second in the queue. New York is an ancient land, and, according to W. Richard West (Southern Cheyenne), "has become a center of new thinking about Native cultures." The Hopi have a prophecy about a time long ago when their people "would travel to the east to meet with the nation of the world in a 'house of mica.'" I looked up at the allegorical statue of the continent of Africa, and once again I saw New York's dichotomous relationship with the natural world.</div>
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Inside the museum I found a Crow girl's dress from Montana, decorated with elk teeth, bone, and hide. One of my novel's secondary characters is a young Crow woman from Montana, learning the ancient skill of horse doctoring. She finds herself lost with only her medicine bag after chasing a herd of wild Mustangs who have somehow entered through a portal to a Montana Otherworld. When I saw the Crow dress in the museum, now you can understand why I was grateful.</div>
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Nearby was another striking view of the city's tall, angular forest. The guy with the New York Yankees hat wasn't sure about me. But I thank him now, just the same, whoever he is. For without him and his hat, this photo would be a little less complete. I call it, "Morris Street."</div>
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The subways were amazing to me, mysterious underground passages that spilled every sound into a wash of echoes: bright 3-dimensional canvases smeared with loud, dark-colored paint.<br />
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During one of the days I walked the streets alone, cherishing the solitude and deepening my personal connection with New York, the city gave me another surprise. A cormorant. This whole past year, I've been blogging about seabirds in Port Hueneme, California, especially grebes and cormorants. Well, when I strolled through Cedar Hill (Fifth Avenue side of Central Park), there he was just standing there on a floating wooden platform.</div>
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At first I couldn't believe it walking past the outdoor tables where people sat drinking coffee. From across the pond he looked like a statue. And it's not like New York doesn't have its share of statues.</div>
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Now I have seen seagulls and sandpipers standing on one foot, but I never saw a cormorant doing that. It wasn't until I looked more closely at the images that I started to think this guy only had one leg. He never moved from his position the whole time I observed him. And there were plenty of disturbances that could've prompted him to lift from his platform, but he never did. I remember how content he seemed, so I don't worry too much about him now.</div>
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I could write to eternity about New York, and that's why I know I'll be coming back to the city to spend more serious time folded within her magical layers. But for now I'm leaving you with my favorite Central Park tree photos. They whispered to me, all of them; they are Human Whisperers. They stand as guardians between worlds, between the human world and the Other world that imbues the magic. It's hard to let go and move on to my next project, as these words and images have drawn me back. I can feel New York in my bones, in my soul. Like I said, I'll never be the same.</div>
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coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-12060718292562716782009-09-16T14:38:00.000-07:002009-09-17T08:09:07.772-07:00Northern MinnesotaI left the California coast on September 3rd and flew to Minnesota. This was my fourth research trip back there for my current novel project, and my third time visiting the Fond <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">du</span> Lac Band of Lake Superior Chippewa Reservation. It was an honor for me to witness the sacred <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">manoomin</span> harvest. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Manoomin</span> means "the good berry" in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ojibwe</span>, and it's what the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Anishinaabeg</span> call the wild rice. It was a beautiful morning on the first day of harvest. Beyond the shaded foreground in the photo below is the lake. You can't see the water for the rice.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKT5aA_U6GeiUF03Ne1rRuDpduKdcPMRWzFmEjrfNKovuj26gV7u0L0AQfoKLMeseWHtCB-xxXUhls2D6NQaXpiGHvoWTdh7rwMz2OLQP1nuNEgTGcuINCEVd3Z77Crjcl1vybcNXLZnsK/s1600-h/first+view+of+Dead+Fish+Lake-logo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382206979288963890" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 257px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKT5aA_U6GeiUF03Ne1rRuDpduKdcPMRWzFmEjrfNKovuj26gV7u0L0AQfoKLMeseWHtCB-xxXUhls2D6NQaXpiGHvoWTdh7rwMz2OLQP1nuNEgTGcuINCEVd3Z77Crjcl1vybcNXLZnsK/s400/first+view+of+Dead+Fish+Lake-logo.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Canoes were being driven along dirt roads to Dead Fish Lake, tied to tops of cars and sticking out of truck beds, until all were lifted and carried to water's edge.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFVSlvhGJA0gpiGs-u2AN83UJQCmkaPilDs4cf35HwL5W_gk9W78s2JuD3Cz6p0qStc0TGDb67IF-1t4k2E2rbz1wJhrK8WuUmYn-Huqjz8xMezB6Fu0I4shviICSZ58QAhsEOmuoa51Gd/s1600-h/canoes+ready-small-logo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382187835407294418" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFVSlvhGJA0gpiGs-u2AN83UJQCmkaPilDs4cf35HwL5W_gk9W78s2JuD3Cz6p0qStc0TGDb67IF-1t4k2E2rbz1wJhrK8WuUmYn-Huqjz8xMezB6Fu0I4shviICSZ58QAhsEOmuoa51Gd/s400/canoes+ready-small-logo.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />At 10 AM, eighteen canoes were launched. As each ricing team made their way through the high rice beds, the call of Trumpeter Swans echoed across the lake as, one by one, they lifted out of the rice stalks to the sky.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhajQgGfm60YDM-Le7n3dZLKs_cz3x7O7CtLPxFkl0cywmff0tvD-EWsunvjPhE0NObjjuoAPaXngG1JwVmKKJvmrH6CbV40klaS_R0ZLyPyzhqV2wOCbGZ2m1FsB_0yzBiSp_ZcpDnjdis/s1600-h/BIRD-Fond+du+Lac+Trumpeter+Swan-small-logo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382189688629147682" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 207px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhajQgGfm60YDM-Le7n3dZLKs_cz3x7O7CtLPxFkl0cywmff0tvD-EWsunvjPhE0NObjjuoAPaXngG1JwVmKKJvmrH6CbV40klaS_R0ZLyPyzhqV2wOCbGZ2m1FsB_0yzBiSp_ZcpDnjdis/s400/BIRD-Fond+du+Lac+Trumpeter+Swan-small-logo.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I snapped a few photos of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Ojibwe</span> wild rice harvest from this watchtower. Misty sunlight streaked through the trees and spilled over the tower, adding a sparkle to the Fond <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">du</span> Lac Conservation Officers' truck:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRAcnqZdwwLCryyYmDfeE_AE7dcgykyZjR6cGoT57amTYHkUOwwXTFfPs0OWSnad5rDpaw_IlmmywsFua4W7slOCe3dglq3-PeA1_xbqt3LkPClIQwxOo-urovBfDPV2M9A44nSi8hMfF/s1600-h/morning+watchtower-1-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382191517779803570" style="WIDTH: 301px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRAcnqZdwwLCryyYmDfeE_AE7dcgykyZjR6cGoT57amTYHkUOwwXTFfPs0OWSnad5rDpaw_IlmmywsFua4W7slOCe3dglq3-PeA1_xbqt3LkPClIQwxOo-urovBfDPV2M9A44nSi8hMfF/s400/morning+watchtower-1-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />During the four days I spent time on the reservation, I stayed at the Black Bear Casino Resort. When I turned into the entrance of the hotel my first day, I spotted a group of Giant Canadian Geese in a small pond. You can see the reflection of the hotel in the photo below:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxfV86C8OvMSsatCY7S0aOiZkNXf8-ZesWsyBeJQZoDSpIHAhC3j5th1QGcrJwyqIO2Un-vHYEQgbdbXWnWDJTp-do5R-KAHK5kH0YhA6d9W39yqSt3LymF-aVBmlyt5HuSEe9T_Eexoi/s1600-h/BIRD-Canadian+geese-1-logo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382193546265058418" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxfV86C8OvMSsatCY7S0aOiZkNXf8-ZesWsyBeJQZoDSpIHAhC3j5th1QGcrJwyqIO2Un-vHYEQgbdbXWnWDJTp-do5R-KAHK5kH0YhA6d9W39yqSt3LymF-aVBmlyt5HuSEe9T_Eexoi/s400/BIRD-Canadian+geese-1-logo.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />These are magnificent birds. And... they were wondering how I had gotten past the fence and over the rocks from the parking lot, especially this one, who seemed to be their leader:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73iuIlsQxPPgEZjGgRbZpP6YKzDJ9RQS_eTeM4kafCebiY7zaqGpNm2D2WIqWpopby8wmBExHraWfcTnd_Gjrl48SVzpNTIaqpzWZqVjLMqqR-eVlIkJxIEbuInk9xhlIjN2ve99oJwxj/s1600-h/BIRD-Canadian+geese-5-logo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382198591811167010" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 298px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73iuIlsQxPPgEZjGgRbZpP6YKzDJ9RQS_eTeM4kafCebiY7zaqGpNm2D2WIqWpopby8wmBExHraWfcTnd_Gjrl48SVzpNTIaqpzWZqVjLMqqR-eVlIkJxIEbuInk9xhlIjN2ve99oJwxj/s400/BIRD-Canadian+geese-5-logo.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />But, alas, he wasn't too keen on me snooping around taking pictures, so he got everyone to hightail it to the other side of the pond.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZRuql5C_vALDkAk9O4TFmi1SAaTQDFvTavFsqEmpenW1xg0_q11EkkliQQXC36eTXHDLDzgNKOFSscnyXC08iBc7OC_46fRfv4qCdbw2drKPMsfi6_H4mrOBhK5_zMjNtJ8xUBNbOewp/s1600-h/BIRD-Canadian+geese-6-logo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382199087228642226" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZRuql5C_vALDkAk9O4TFmi1SAaTQDFvTavFsqEmpenW1xg0_q11EkkliQQXC36eTXHDLDzgNKOFSscnyXC08iBc7OC_46fRfv4qCdbw2drKPMsfi6_H4mrOBhK5_zMjNtJ8xUBNbOewp/s400/BIRD-Canadian+geese-6-logo.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />On day five, I drove down to Southern Minnesota, and visited several small towns in Rice and Dodge Counties. I will post later to tell you about my enchanted walk through Rice Lake State Park, but for now I gotta fly.coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-66162190771155340762009-08-03T20:16:00.000-07:002009-08-03T22:46:02.893-07:00The Great Blue Heron on Port Hueneme BeachThere's nothing to say about this, other than I couldn't believe my eyes, seeing this magnificent creature walking among the seagulls.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIoKFRe0cNtBcN9hQv1HzydpM6vRmxQqW2xs8IYXq1lCJLDqyPqts6W9Aj7L9ZFZ-x4q1G_jDESHxt-LFpWdOYspITMjejZ3km98HR2SWMmdTgurwHXFYCZjaeHgKwy4rna_ymUGD7i1S8/s1600-h/Blue+Heron-1-small+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365944092017550642" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 298px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIoKFRe0cNtBcN9hQv1HzydpM6vRmxQqW2xs8IYXq1lCJLDqyPqts6W9Aj7L9ZFZ-x4q1G_jDESHxt-LFpWdOYspITMjejZ3km98HR2SWMmdTgurwHXFYCZjaeHgKwy4rna_ymUGD7i1S8/s400/Blue+Heron-1-small+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />It was very personal for me. Thus, for this blog, I'm here just to share some of the photos, so others can appreciate the beauty of this bird, too.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju_7QckQcpyOVLoe2lWDnOyzjW7FOdvdSL0XEMsfYHOyU_HKAGEdubrkn69o3eEuPgZ4eAlz-ILjImgpBsrnOQZ0fZ8Chg1U8b6YvpskUhKWhI4yvPYvIjBFsHhII-WBp8hdkVZNIDId2G/s1600-h/Blue+Heron-2-small+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365944659121761138" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 304px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju_7QckQcpyOVLoe2lWDnOyzjW7FOdvdSL0XEMsfYHOyU_HKAGEdubrkn69o3eEuPgZ4eAlz-ILjImgpBsrnOQZ0fZ8Chg1U8b6YvpskUhKWhI4yvPYvIjBFsHhII-WBp8hdkVZNIDId2G/s400/Blue+Heron-2-small+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Below is the closest photo I dared take. My zoom really helped.<br />I didn't want to cause him any stress... ruffle his feathers. His demeanor seemed pretty laid back:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBKuDZ3KG0WrGa47qFx2RXy6A0ASjHqbs90Iec0xceajGkzoDlSp8oCGZrJIDqjMuEsh8K6dCQXX_jWLe3UP0g3pI8PjpADUCJQVfrW56lnHkF2HWK2kqAXKmNlRoBH2ORpqRi21MARd4M/s1600-h/Blue+Heron-5-closeup-small+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365945960909129810" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBKuDZ3KG0WrGa47qFx2RXy6A0ASjHqbs90Iec0xceajGkzoDlSp8oCGZrJIDqjMuEsh8K6dCQXX_jWLe3UP0g3pI8PjpADUCJQVfrW56lnHkF2HWK2kqAXKmNlRoBH2ORpqRi21MARd4M/s400/Blue+Heron-5-closeup-small+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I have lived in Port <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hueneme</span></span> for a year, and I've never seen this Great Blue Heron on the beach, ever. This was a rare landing, I know. I took a walk down the beach to check on another bird I'd been keeping an eye on, and when I came back, the Blue Heron had moved away from shore, about halfway between the beach and East <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Surfside</span></span> Drive. Can you believe this next image??<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNH9fBhdODWSYHzM4VPC5SS9exJ449xKsnRNON7DQICFsdlVeK9p3KspMZXmQzlTq-2islmDkI475q0XTwx4yVYVEhmWrhmBDYJhnIkR4FPU9JmrUBWZuw965YjMEDREVI6FR43Dcj8Xgs/s1600-h/Blue+Heron-7-ruffled-small+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365949439395115266" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNH9fBhdODWSYHzM4VPC5SS9exJ449xKsnRNON7DQICFsdlVeK9p3KspMZXmQzlTq-2islmDkI475q0XTwx4yVYVEhmWrhmBDYJhnIkR4FPU9JmrUBWZuw965YjMEDREVI6FR43Dcj8Xgs/s400/Blue+Heron-7-ruffled-small+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Wow, such incredible wing-wrapping. It was hard to figure out what he was doing. The next photo shows the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Surfside</span></span> I condos in the background... such a strange dichotomy of images here:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gmTbzIoCRkE6S2b5t13sp-oexw0-k1yGu2w-SJ1_de3LRSs1I1ZDsl_3FkSrQIBBeiGgGF5rqyD4DsMsDUhRauxAl1OfzoEnRcI8PycKty1QhpdlXFJH5aaX3nCQ6t-fSOHZnog0I0KJ/s1600-h/Blue+Heron-8-ruffled-small+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365950888033430290" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gmTbzIoCRkE6S2b5t13sp-oexw0-k1yGu2w-SJ1_de3LRSs1I1ZDsl_3FkSrQIBBeiGgGF5rqyD4DsMsDUhRauxAl1OfzoEnRcI8PycKty1QhpdlXFJH5aaX3nCQ6t-fSOHZnog0I0KJ/s400/Blue+Heron-8-ruffled-small+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />By the way, the date of this encounter was June 25, 2009. The next photo is from behind. I love the way he has cloaked himself, or is it herself?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb5oKAYDyRgH2ReS84h3OuG3hhYiqXnmyfENe7Iv40tOVgMs1zytILly4o3ks-jWEAAyCfOvWujC7_lXlSgdKFVz2UTAyt9T6-5p3zcSuUnlWC71uwEQlhyphenhyphenqOnCA7W206JtB-l0ZBLCQUx/s1600-h/Blue+Heron-11-back-small+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365951868755495554" style="WIDTH: 307px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb5oKAYDyRgH2ReS84h3OuG3hhYiqXnmyfENe7Iv40tOVgMs1zytILly4o3ks-jWEAAyCfOvWujC7_lXlSgdKFVz2UTAyt9T6-5p3zcSuUnlWC71uwEQlhyphenhyphenqOnCA7W206JtB-l0ZBLCQUx/s400/Blue+Heron-11-back-small+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />And here he/she is with his/her head down. Unbelievable!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwjcRNUoZBB8BobbCMhyphenhyphend7HtyfmvAfteouqju4Cf6gQZck3d7keIsYc8xaOITbSg9_ZGFxh2rvjKYLn_c2WH17Topmmhoie7PLnAj4MPkmx7t4htTGfEhvIJlNhugcS8TI6O1y24eAPAYH/s1600-h/Blue+Heron-12-small+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365952533774657522" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 308px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwjcRNUoZBB8BobbCMhyphenhyphend7HtyfmvAfteouqju4Cf6gQZck3d7keIsYc8xaOITbSg9_ZGFxh2rvjKYLn_c2WH17Topmmhoie7PLnAj4MPkmx7t4htTGfEhvIJlNhugcS8TI6O1y24eAPAYH/s400/Blue+Heron-12-small+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />And my last shot of the beautiful Great Blue Heron:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw8ZaMGeYYp4CKvoJSj9hWL5T4RNkF9cPJe10q71zJoyAgwMO_kqc7Mz8SL6ig_LX4sXj_C53JBpuV9HIfEqqKftCwIFVknmQ67zTON4ScYgMhv6i1AikxZq7tau4ywuRjFGRejwLe6kBI/s1600-h/Blue+Heron-13-wings-uplift-small+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365953192267391618" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw8ZaMGeYYp4CKvoJSj9hWL5T4RNkF9cPJe10q71zJoyAgwMO_kqc7Mz8SL6ig_LX4sXj_C53JBpuV9HIfEqqKftCwIFVknmQ67zTON4ScYgMhv6i1AikxZq7tau4ywuRjFGRejwLe6kBI/s400/Blue+Heron-13-wings-uplift-small+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I turned to leave, and when I turned back, he was up in the air. And I realized he was the bird I kept seeing fly over our condos from time to time. Like this day, he always seemed to be heading toward the Naval Base. I hope you enjoyed these photos.coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-48745311505751145662009-05-26T22:16:00.000-07:002009-07-22T16:30:57.675-07:00Seagull with a Broken WingIt happened over Memorial Day weekend--the official start of the summer holiday season. There were a lot more people along Port <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hueneme</span> beach, and a lot more cars in the parking lot, more than we had seen all year. As my husband and I were driving away from our condo, we spotted the seagull in the street. He must've just been sideswiped by a car. His wing was busted and dragging the ground, and he was making his way from East Surfside Drive to the curb, heading towards the parking lot and beach. We knew we would need to come back later that evening to look for the little guy.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAj8gsOiU_FY3-0mjjBspJmg8bv4r-DH0CeQ-BULK2n8JeY-vuLtG4jkaoOw7LcEE9aD9-RQKgr-LIOlgTgO5eJAocM6VhaEic4WZbgp7OI8QNPgg7lkzdu36J8oqRPXZQhQPJrYycx8_s/s1600-h/condo+exit-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351901338569781874" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 210px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAj8gsOiU_FY3-0mjjBspJmg8bv4r-DH0CeQ-BULK2n8JeY-vuLtG4jkaoOw7LcEE9aD9-RQKgr-LIOlgTgO5eJAocM6VhaEic4WZbgp7OI8QNPgg7lkzdu36J8oqRPXZQhQPJrYycx8_s/s400/condo+exit-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />But we didn't find him until Saturday morning. I saw him early. He was being fed by a homeless man near one of the picnic tables. I was grateful for the compassion being shown to the bird by the man. There are a couple of seagulls on Port <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Hueneme</span> beach who have bad legs, but if a seagull can't fly, then it won't be able to survive for very long.<br /><br />Later in the afternoon, after my husband had completed his work, we parked our car in the crowded parking lot, and carried a box and towel with us to the beach. We were determined to find him, cause we knew he was out there. Here is a photo taken at a less crowded time, this one showing a perfectly healthy seagull:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPMVcUMUSEZIXthLazfXa0iNxftcapaDR5XPKYt4MVNOJfVxxoUq29VNcjBMAYrHNLv9PBspdVvqxpF_iFz9-bzf7wahlUsE7WyDEiA9TtoHglTaHVsTNwyYpckH-H0uk7Yxvhl31MZB4Q/s1600-h/healthy+seagull-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340376721151428146" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPMVcUMUSEZIXthLazfXa0iNxftcapaDR5XPKYt4MVNOJfVxxoUq29VNcjBMAYrHNLv9PBspdVvqxpF_iFz9-bzf7wahlUsE7WyDEiA9TtoHglTaHVsTNwyYpckH-H0uk7Yxvhl31MZB4Q/s400/healthy+seagull-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Eventually we found the little guy, after walking past a lot of family-filled picnic tables. I brought my camera this time to take a couple of pictures before the rescue. He was a young seagull, and his wing was really bad.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9fSXvVAXI-8ftn7k1QvdHYghMO-aAhpUYvq1miZ6ZJWHgZiVMAgb4KQvL97lbEetZdlTY3vaEsfCESXglOuSXEWF-6-CVl9CZMQbcVANrif8vOvOUykAIF3JSRko4u4qS9jGhdVS-QZgW/s1600-h/broken-winged+seagull-1-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351819407056775266" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9fSXvVAXI-8ftn7k1QvdHYghMO-aAhpUYvq1miZ6ZJWHgZiVMAgb4KQvL97lbEetZdlTY3vaEsfCESXglOuSXEWF-6-CVl9CZMQbcVANrif8vOvOUykAIF3JSRko4u4qS9jGhdVS-QZgW/s400/broken-winged+seagull-1-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Like the rescue of the other broken-winged seagull we did earlier this year, my husband was the one who headed the bird off at the pass while I ran after him coming from the opposite direction. I threw the towel over him, careful not to let him nip at my hand. I used the towel to gently hold onto his beak and body as I put him inside the box.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrM3FU4vaWllfJ_66Z8bMqHDezDSUJ7tau_kJNS2RJoB2mWwRDGHHqP8iFzGr2zMlLHu0MpZAOL5K5yOAnIcJ9qbHemiyRbaDehyphenhyphenpf45X8hlg6t3Zp8N3IYu-pjjEJFpxPrggp4Bi81trB/s1600-h/broken-winged+seagull-3+small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351820345538487346" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 277px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrM3FU4vaWllfJ_66Z8bMqHDezDSUJ7tau_kJNS2RJoB2mWwRDGHHqP8iFzGr2zMlLHu0MpZAOL5K5yOAnIcJ9qbHemiyRbaDehyphenhyphenpf45X8hlg6t3Zp8N3IYu-pjjEJFpxPrggp4Bi81trB/s400/broken-winged+seagull-3+small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />We drove him down <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">PCH, turned onto</span> Malibu Canyon Road, and into the canyon to the <a href="http://www.californiawildlifecenter.org/" target="_blank"><b>California Wildlife Center</b></a>, hoping upon hope that the bird's wing could be repaired. We were very impressed with the facility, and were greeted by a cage of baby orphaned ducks near CWC's front entrance.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWa8K8XQB_5aC1uo_VBBcKqO0l8SKTF2Yl7EN2_6yPzYetLRwUcP468cAscH9ZCbA1l5k_CtwBD5y1kllbQRkwAQyGZCN_QEPgiCcHPx8tt_O_kdi1zmX0NwR90SD1Uk8fWWcKH6Ocuy61/s1600-h/orphan+baby+ducks-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351825196210105138" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWa8K8XQB_5aC1uo_VBBcKqO0l8SKTF2Yl7EN2_6yPzYetLRwUcP468cAscH9ZCbA1l5k_CtwBD5y1kllbQRkwAQyGZCN_QEPgiCcHPx8tt_O_kdi1zmX0NwR90SD1Uk8fWWcKH6Ocuy61/s400/orphan+baby+ducks-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />We watched through the examining room window, and saw the doctor taking a look at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">seagull's</span> wing. We knew the bird was in good hands, so we left feeling rewarded by our rescue. A few days later I called the facility to see how our seagull was doing. They informed me that the little guy had to be euthanized, his wing was just too far gone. We were so saddened to hear about our little friend, but we knew his passing was a gentle one, and not one of struggle and pain.<br /><br />I can still remember seeing him walk the beach, his reflexes couldn't stop him from trying to move his wing (jerking it), but I knew it had been painful for him. To whatever degree of pain one might want to argue that a seagull can feel, no one would ever be able to convince me that he wasn't suffering, nor that there wasn't a soul inside that little bird... or any living creature on this earth, for that matter.<br /><br />My husband and I said our silent goodbyes to the broken-winged seagull, sending energy for his <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">transition</span>, and for his next life, and to whatever new adventure that life will bring. Farewell, little friend. Your wings are okay now.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9FNwsc4wG2cAOi_lPjG3PnKiXUnVu7yW_tWgxYttmB3radEBnhdePsp6ffa7aysAjtZEwXQJwnJZSNf00_yuNUE_VO9grKPiGaPKBJs4ofOcZF4UJwFQDcXGt7EDysidK32zciQ_GQXi4/s1600-h/mystical+seagull+flight-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351885873920054674" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 273px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9FNwsc4wG2cAOi_lPjG3PnKiXUnVu7yW_tWgxYttmB3radEBnhdePsp6ffa7aysAjtZEwXQJwnJZSNf00_yuNUE_VO9grKPiGaPKBJs4ofOcZF4UJwFQDcXGt7EDysidK32zciQ_GQXi4/s400/mystical+seagull+flight-small.jpg" border="0" /></a>coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-77077611166708535142009-05-12T20:40:00.000-07:002009-05-12T22:36:24.525-07:00Hundreds of Cormorants Flying NorthWhen I strolled out on Port <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hueneme</span> beach this afternoon, I saw a continuous stream of black flutters over the ocean... Cormorants flying in formation--hundreds of them!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_3ZbN7sTwOum9yCJDyspJISI5585nK2jd0PvVgbmW3N0uzG3SCLcLMjflTcJvksSsHdtTIIma4Lvz3eEQVxz6NbWgbVtmjgNyHWjqxuAoQbVFBcdkqW2-iTV3YQzhRL7R4mMBgH0K4B7/s1600-h/flying+cormorants-May09-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335154817562684130" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_3ZbN7sTwOum9yCJDyspJISI5585nK2jd0PvVgbmW3N0uzG3SCLcLMjflTcJvksSsHdtTIIma4Lvz3eEQVxz6NbWgbVtmjgNyHWjqxuAoQbVFBcdkqW2-iTV3YQzhRL7R4mMBgH0K4B7/s400/flying+cormorants-May09-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I ran to the end of Port <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Hueneme</span> pier to try and get a better photograph, between the fishing poles. This was the best my zoom could do on my point-and-shoot camera:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikw7kipW4Xy5qzhv3VMW0bsc87L9LRRF5PcbLg40MaWIDIKQZ-0qbo8og_Lavu10t1F9SuyiKfN0Z1pxhbn9flRLOCIDvyBZFzXNaCmX103VXpZ0M91-3P-UfPBj02QCuoIgEC6fPioicj/s1600-h/flying+cormorants-May09--pier-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335155906245324978" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 237px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikw7kipW4Xy5qzhv3VMW0bsc87L9LRRF5PcbLg40MaWIDIKQZ-0qbo8og_Lavu10t1F9SuyiKfN0Z1pxhbn9flRLOCIDvyBZFzXNaCmX103VXpZ0M91-3P-UfPBj02QCuoIgEC6fPioicj/s400/flying+cormorants-May09--pier-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />It was wonderful seeing all those Cormorants together like that.<br /><br />I haven't seen any Western Grebes for about three weeks. I'm sure they have migrated back to their spring/summer lakes by now. The last grebe I saw on shore (the last one I rescued) was on Friday, April 3rd. Here's the little guy's photo:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2W7cPrp1OiTnhEpGjvsGcbYOqGNo-kU7oVhq5ikpFg3QVuhLcMj8PAogL8wMM272X6xklmQ3a3lbxNwYYNpYDmqs6O5AnwNpEcygiyNXuz_9AEGhKXnO18qyaOliFOg1hXdbECs0Iv_a/s1600-h/Good+Friday+Grebe-1-smal.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335165007779574210" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 297px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc2W7cPrp1OiTnhEpGjvsGcbYOqGNo-kU7oVhq5ikpFg3QVuhLcMj8PAogL8wMM272X6xklmQ3a3lbxNwYYNpYDmqs6O5AnwNpEcygiyNXuz_9AEGhKXnO18qyaOliFOg1hXdbECs0Iv_a/s400/Good+Friday+Grebe-1-smal.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />My girlfriend, Judie, was with me that day. She had come for a visit all the way from Colorado. She stood guard by the helpless grebe while I ran back to my condo to get a box. These grebes are not supposed to be on land. They're a pure aquatic bird, and their sternum bones are not well-protected. It is not good for them to be out of the water.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYpt2leppB11PzR3CrJIyEMHPMyg3fAqzOoCXzhpPy7a8fmtct4EuxR5kKIFf33IAuIWIHr2zwOioWh81elWL1OR0K4mIB9Jvbnnmz3fVmb2ebHGY8seLfm4ZDWacP4cvArWLlEFRQbBB/s1600-h/Good+Friday+Grebe-2-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335164316214530210" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidYpt2leppB11PzR3CrJIyEMHPMyg3fAqzOoCXzhpPy7a8fmtct4EuxR5kKIFf33IAuIWIHr2zwOioWh81elWL1OR0K4mIB9Jvbnnmz3fVmb2ebHGY8seLfm4ZDWacP4cvArWLlEFRQbBB/s400/Good+Friday+Grebe-2-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I set him on a donut-cushioned towel, and we drove him up to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Carpinteria</span> where we rendezvoused with Connie, a bird <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">rescue</span> person from <a href="http://www.sbwcn.org/">Santa Barbara Wildlife Care Network</a>. She took him, along with three other seabirds, to <a href="http://pelicanlife.org/SB_pelicans/release.html">June's care facility</a> in Goleta.<br /><br />After seeing oodles of Cormorants today, I saw quite a few pelicans resting on the sands near Port <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Hueneme</span> Harbor.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOUk1VsZrg418nrUL1-pceUwGnnogn4yiDMFJlZpYvQCLL6YoFiCqEpmH87WC8DnV3Fs_DXzHijWrGgjwaofPAzeGaeQ1Zd4P2x4bTC6_i9xscUTfJTU1_-Ga2JTzkaWSPrrTPbXoFCcU-/s1600-h/Pelicans+resting-1-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335169561954640754" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 289px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOUk1VsZrg418nrUL1-pceUwGnnogn4yiDMFJlZpYvQCLL6YoFiCqEpmH87WC8DnV3Fs_DXzHijWrGgjwaofPAzeGaeQ1Zd4P2x4bTC6_i9xscUTfJTU1_-Ga2JTzkaWSPrrTPbXoFCcU-/s400/Pelicans+resting-1-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The seagulls accompanied this gal along the sand cliff:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5x4wyhiI6D8-3AI2eLWnYVa0JdhUpgfMGYTBcWYJXVz4fo6DTWuQKvFNxExC_BIwrju2jX_2r30EveqIcCytvdc1oHkCSlveD6PFhgK3ERRLhKiTINVBVF4DQO-CqRHeDGqMkVBYNq-3/s1600-h/Pelican+with+seagulls+cliff-1-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335170345132861362" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5x4wyhiI6D8-3AI2eLWnYVa0JdhUpgfMGYTBcWYJXVz4fo6DTWuQKvFNxExC_BIwrju2jX_2r30EveqIcCytvdc1oHkCSlveD6PFhgK3ERRLhKiTINVBVF4DQO-CqRHeDGqMkVBYNq-3/s400/Pelican+with+seagulls+cliff-1-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />There were lots of seabirds today. More photos to follow... just not enough time tonight. I've got to fly off. Bye for now.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2P0vrlmLljXMgTUJNSqnVF8Ssipt9tgTYWqIvxlBDT6n3xLkp3dALwmR_DOhRw29X9B31CiHfqDF7mflmsC1j1PaZsJMPh7iuOpWHkiI-1_CdygNCsKH43WEfqHfYMHz12ayedeqyADjR/s1600-h/pelicans+taking+off-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335171337729334930" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2P0vrlmLljXMgTUJNSqnVF8Ssipt9tgTYWqIvxlBDT6n3xLkp3dALwmR_DOhRw29X9B31CiHfqDF7mflmsC1j1PaZsJMPh7iuOpWHkiI-1_CdygNCsKH43WEfqHfYMHz12ayedeqyADjR/s400/pelicans+taking+off-small.jpg" border="0" /></a>coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-47285301671074526682009-03-12T13:07:00.000-07:002009-03-12T15:43:17.336-07:00The Dredging of Port Hueneme Harbor - PART IIFinal Chapter.<br /><br /><div>I jogged to Port <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hueneme</span> harbor this morning and saw that the last of the large dredging cylinders were being dragged along the sand and tug-boated out to the harbor. A man working as cylinder overseer told me they were heading off to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ventura</span> Harbor now, and that they wouldn't be back to Port <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Hueneme</span> for perhaps two years.</div><br /><div>Since I was without camera this morning, I decided to go through my photo archive, and choose my favorite dredging photos from the last three months for this final dredging post.</div><br /><div>Below is a photo taken in mid-December '08, showing the path of the outpouring. Notice the sand cliff crumbling away in the lower <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">lefthand</span> corner:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEoTqU8uaPC58xXxrFQrMyjgeBPohVPQWCnN-E2drIc3FA8FcIDkleF6drcxGUFYaCbPJe2R50TvTLwknOEH5Gz3A23UN1dn05GCAWTDBkfkQGN-yHiC4o8iGWsmA9UIFnNxVvMR1Kxmzl/s1600-h/dredge+slick-4-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312400546077720434" style="WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEoTqU8uaPC58xXxrFQrMyjgeBPohVPQWCnN-E2drIc3FA8FcIDkleF6drcxGUFYaCbPJe2R50TvTLwknOEH5Gz3A23UN1dn05GCAWTDBkfkQGN-yHiC4o8iGWsmA9UIFnNxVvMR1Kxmzl/s400/dredge+slick-4-small.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div>But what was even more interesting was how this young seagull basked in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">flowage</span>:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8wnZfzd9DyYe-18JIwauOc43NpX6woeG40IeFd9mjMdDLMCbS1uKBZaY04QBU6UdKqh0wkI2j-N8D07jDmFGXqCjwi8VHWfnrbZfAJzabpXlO_qcTFxkdt3pT3_jay-Ntb3kR50sWP3Pd/s1600-h/dredge+slick-5-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312400692378780594" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8wnZfzd9DyYe-18JIwauOc43NpX6woeG40IeFd9mjMdDLMCbS1uKBZaY04QBU6UdKqh0wkI2j-N8D07jDmFGXqCjwi8VHWfnrbZfAJzabpXlO_qcTFxkdt3pT3_jay-Ntb3kR50sWP3Pd/s400/dredge+slick-5-small.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div>This aftermath photo below (a sort of textural still life) I deemed "dried sludge":<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGrZ8zMYCp-VZH9AiK_ccPIPVtc97iXrvtp1sdqpRrTWCdoGNA-62mdmpN2waobaOjgY3XQj5JfyJJm4Dz9s72B_gy1h5xHf55rNI20eCJARTqK7Sls1M00neeeET3ac-MJ88SobGVuPpp/s1600-h/dried+sludge-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312406277522947986" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGrZ8zMYCp-VZH9AiK_ccPIPVtc97iXrvtp1sdqpRrTWCdoGNA-62mdmpN2waobaOjgY3XQj5JfyJJm4Dz9s72B_gy1h5xHf55rNI20eCJARTqK7Sls1M00neeeET3ac-MJ88SobGVuPpp/s400/dried+sludge-small.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div>From what I observed upon my daily beach patrols, pelicans in particular enjoyed hanging out near the dredging sites along the beach.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNPoIxPYJniMhZ2b3SP0NrgEcNliPyAySG8Hp0MrUC-WfyQ7O9YxHGRHrTBnqFo5MLwGsP03ifV56j400zcQ5FIZNbKpvvsInvoovoA0ELK-fiW4n-acHuGB1_nOT1UdiGVB9g5qEqqjR/s1600-h/pelicans-dredging-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312410618025269762" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 273px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvNPoIxPYJniMhZ2b3SP0NrgEcNliPyAySG8Hp0MrUC-WfyQ7O9YxHGRHrTBnqFo5MLwGsP03ifV56j400zcQ5FIZNbKpvvsInvoovoA0ELK-fiW4n-acHuGB1_nOT1UdiGVB9g5qEqqjR/s400/pelicans-dredging-small.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div>In fact, I can't even count how many <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">pelicans </span>showed up for this dredging sunset on Friday the 13<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">th</span> in February. Unbelievable! (Click on the photo to enlarge it, and see if you can count how many pelicans are standing on the shore.):<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSDaTV0GGytBuGqr4MArYBqrtdR7nOAhyphenhyphenebgZmNEL9oeAyyK8tf1Ozx_KqmM-X4W0dI2O2SW3T3TInxbW7LhD84grJ9USmxIJ4hr3n75E4SR9n7aEAmOK9w89j-0etApCOXB8Bps-GqvLa/s1600-h/penguin+dredging+fest-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312418482434899666" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSDaTV0GGytBuGqr4MArYBqrtdR7nOAhyphenhyphenebgZmNEL9oeAyyK8tf1Ozx_KqmM-X4W0dI2O2SW3T3TInxbW7LhD84grJ9USmxIJ4hr3n75E4SR9n7aEAmOK9w89j-0etApCOXB8Bps-GqvLa/s400/penguin+dredging+fest-small.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div>Dredging would take place at different points between the harbor and Port <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Hueneme</span> Pier, giving Mother Earth time to mend her sandy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Hueneme</span> shores. Right after the first of the year, they were close to the harbor, near the lighthouse:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEtkYoDMcxYpAEwKY-q-mtFPrQXECIqCWUamYBkl2b7YXzV3eCNc20wt438NZG2EGVMn88GWabprbE5AoNQ_knnoPnixnkzV7BFMRCxINpSD_Crqp5xU7DjRWJLp45E3H0qXnuWuGyNR4/s1600-h/lighthouse+dredge-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312414791059204322" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 288px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEtkYoDMcxYpAEwKY-q-mtFPrQXECIqCWUamYBkl2b7YXzV3eCNc20wt438NZG2EGVMn88GWabprbE5AoNQ_knnoPnixnkzV7BFMRCxINpSD_Crqp5xU7DjRWJLp45E3H0qXnuWuGyNR4/s400/lighthouse+dredge-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />And at the end of the month (January '09) they were close to the pier. Below is a great night shot, with a view of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Surfside</span> IV condos in the background:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVX5X4VaaxyEso1o5LKjVr5H0vPCxGTzWd0lKQ2VieB4RPleeoQSGxcfNOk2BM-MQ3dXDANP1cIzRiAoW2dxl7rhcINtMtAsPgES8wJYFPVNXozikwzjsy9Bj0zth6-HIX2_R6SQaNHaW9/s1600-h/night+dredge1-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312416007863568386" style="WIDTH: 359px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVX5X4VaaxyEso1o5LKjVr5H0vPCxGTzWd0lKQ2VieB4RPleeoQSGxcfNOk2BM-MQ3dXDANP1cIzRiAoW2dxl7rhcINtMtAsPgES8wJYFPVNXozikwzjsy9Bj0zth6-HIX2_R6SQaNHaW9/s400/night+dredge1-small.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div>The seagulls liked to play 'chicken' with the big bad bulldozers that were used to push the sand around.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2E9KB9a99Q9lFIwvjxGTZK8_gnWFQEu1w7uLzkCCGpY9JVQC6E3wvIM8t1hoPBnePKyDU7-KILjlr1-VEmW4H7xvzFi0NrGqhOYqi_a5xMqmfN9pFCGuUFleBv_p-sAEBsOup8Wupeiqv/s1600-h/seagull+playing+chicken-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312421027373826194" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 282px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2E9KB9a99Q9lFIwvjxGTZK8_gnWFQEu1w7uLzkCCGpY9JVQC6E3wvIM8t1hoPBnePKyDU7-KILjlr1-VEmW4H7xvzFi0NrGqhOYqi_a5xMqmfN9pFCGuUFleBv_p-sAEBsOup8Wupeiqv/s400/seagull+playing+chicken-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Below you can see the tracks of the bulldozers, as well as an inland perspective on the big spout.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ZLvDM-VvBvJToTnsbO5WH6NwqUm4pmIn6XoEMgAZg540vqzlYT5iOcNMLXyd5V31_2wqdw4cnC6FyM3AMg3mehJFEbEN2MkUR7rIQzQq8F7qXIGabSl_nSaLWQv4jDspei_mDRg98o7x/s1600-h/scenic+dredging+shot-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312422066880208482" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 263px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ZLvDM-VvBvJToTnsbO5WH6NwqUm4pmIn6XoEMgAZg540vqzlYT5iOcNMLXyd5V31_2wqdw4cnC6FyM3AMg3mehJFEbEN2MkUR7rIQzQq8F7qXIGabSl_nSaLWQv4jDspei_mDRg98o7x/s400/scenic+dredging+shot-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />But alas, the dredging party is over, the spouts have all dried up, and summer awaits.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ9kC74o11MaBS9SZQHoYpJbzHYNcVePqWBAb-rPIwKE850FCMxB6XCOIw8vi3utgT7s2Px6nearX7dGjx0sSgKh6cpJmufhdGP0xvLolawMUslLoO0HfqdXBhRwg8y2a_NqXpYwser4m3/s1600-h/dredging+over-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312424429398588034" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ9kC74o11MaBS9SZQHoYpJbzHYNcVePqWBAb-rPIwKE850FCMxB6XCOIw8vi3utgT7s2Px6nearX7dGjx0sSgKh6cpJmufhdGP0xvLolawMUslLoO0HfqdXBhRwg8y2a_NqXpYwser4m3/s400/dredging+over-small.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-57795703330786244532009-03-10T22:31:00.000-07:002009-03-12T12:03:00.435-07:00An Eagle Rescue in Wisconsin<span style="color:#330000;">A great article in February 23, 2009 issue of <em><span style="color:#000066;">News From Indian Country</span></em> about Clarence Daniels, tribal member of Forst County Patawatomi Nation, who in late December last year, had noticed an eagle struggling to get across Highway 55. Mr. Daniels was on his way back from Wausau, Wisconsin. A good story:<br /><br /></span><a href="http://indiancountrynews.net/index2.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=5820&pop=1&page=0&Itemid=118">The Dangers of Lead to Birds, Waterfowl and Wildlife</a><br /><span style="color:#330000;">By Lori Thomas</span>coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-87568872941197369442009-02-01T09:46:00.000-08:002009-02-05T08:59:18.183-08:00The Dredging of Port Hueneme Harbor - PART IIt's been an interesting few weeks walking the shores of Port Hueneme and seeing this whole dredging operation play out. At first I thought, "This must be some kind of environmental nightmare." But I have since come to the opinion that the dredging thing has very little impact on the wildlife, and that the environmental repercussions are only temporary. In fact, as I have observed the seabirds' reaction to it all, it seems they rather enjoy it.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcp25G3hm_2jUr1K0NvUn_Od2k9lJgg_GAK1RHG5yOskYu6UPBIkuuLxDTA3STO6Hcj5EqBoYg6FHufojqXVS3SypANjl-x3HGpmbQs8WJDlaZC8zYGZRKHZ7x7iXqhyCgBmr54GTREIpE/s1600-h/seagull+dredge1-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297894536970531394" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcp25G3hm_2jUr1K0NvUn_Od2k9lJgg_GAK1RHG5yOskYu6UPBIkuuLxDTA3STO6Hcj5EqBoYg6FHufojqXVS3SypANjl-x3HGpmbQs8WJDlaZC8zYGZRKHZ7x7iXqhyCgBmr54GTREIpE/s400/seagull+dredge1-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />During that week in January when the Santa Ana winds faced down our balmy, offshore breezes, the whole beach was transformed into a desert, which just happened to have an ocean next to it.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVzBHirQwMG2nzAdEobh3a6GkI6BzAgSvGpafBgFQnWRqII8Bdn4d9dfXnBFdIbejqsfnoe6P5y8BtLwOjGyYX5OLMOLCjyFkSeZTM8oe2EEL-g5MfdNgv9ryBm7tadGfWj-xn-ec67icI/s1600-h/Santa+Ana+Winds-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297902232709977362" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVzBHirQwMG2nzAdEobh3a6GkI6BzAgSvGpafBgFQnWRqII8Bdn4d9dfXnBFdIbejqsfnoe6P5y8BtLwOjGyYX5OLMOLCjyFkSeZTM8oe2EEL-g5MfdNgv9ryBm7tadGfWj-xn-ec67icI/s400/Santa+Ana+Winds-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I was walking along the lonely shore, saying outloud to myself, "Where are all the birds?" But as I continued to patrol the beach, I happened upon their gathering place, just beyond the dredge outpouring source. "Of course," I replied to myself, "they're all here at the local swimming hole, where else?"<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSsavycU3ZmW1yIRosiB1Glf6L5ALAPtVdYKq5BPfJheeYAgch6JUVYCdRe_pow_Yd4pyRaJmJQVhxL0WZDbsksau24TiUWOFpmOtVOomcyIZttklpgUWOuKjxHuTVvoQ2O5Jmo-L0k06s/s1600-h/swimming+hole1-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297905738786692290" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSsavycU3ZmW1yIRosiB1Glf6L5ALAPtVdYKq5BPfJheeYAgch6JUVYCdRe_pow_Yd4pyRaJmJQVhxL0WZDbsksau24TiUWOFpmOtVOomcyIZttklpgUWOuKjxHuTVvoQ2O5Jmo-L0k06s/s400/swimming+hole1-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />These birds were having a field day, and it almost made me want to don my bathing suit and jump in. (I said, <em>almost</em>.)<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZeztO4800hFut5Gspre4jENLJVffX4TudGT8Mb_KuR4wisJeveDJ0GNgC86tOgyFrwQTEI4ZX8bOIhTkyYydWBoDsRs8feOq7RAXnwo0kc-BjzxqFZekj8oxgJFXUwdNjOThhtA7mqPT/s1600-h/swimming+hole2-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297907438970686626" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZeztO4800hFut5Gspre4jENLJVffX4TudGT8Mb_KuR4wisJeveDJ0GNgC86tOgyFrwQTEI4ZX8bOIhTkyYydWBoDsRs8feOq7RAXnwo0kc-BjzxqFZekj8oxgJFXUwdNjOThhtA7mqPT/s400/swimming+hole2-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I do wonder what's contained in those oodles of blobs dotting the shore following the siphoning of gobbledygook from the bottom of the harbor through hundreds of feet of metal piping.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1gEDaA3INdPLU9lqI2PEGTW8osHTVic7oXDYTW8SzPuhLARjifyyedhY0ArbiQALeP45b4qNgKuQDciL_GxVP1uvOYUO4MyYRcaFPzmYyynkv9cInL2L_U7fqswdMRw6ns1v7YYXVAhqU/s1600-h/blobs-sandpipers-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297910185476894130" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1gEDaA3INdPLU9lqI2PEGTW8osHTVic7oXDYTW8SzPuhLARjifyyedhY0ArbiQALeP45b4qNgKuQDciL_GxVP1uvOYUO4MyYRcaFPzmYyynkv9cInL2L_U7fqswdMRw6ns1v7YYXVAhqU/s400/blobs-sandpipers-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />So, I took a closer look by taking this photograph:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRkaHpcjtacy-i0mJeHtdSgcr4ALFUF7I9UiRVU1GXubVHJXY3vCmaSDqltgJjt7G4MrMNgp-80uD3ZfQgt_8Hu5lDnhaZF24YRHZkHEVIcZbX58pN1LA_sxErE9pk5QkX-KDcKPxobssi/s1600-h/blob+portrait-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297911618395163890" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 281px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRkaHpcjtacy-i0mJeHtdSgcr4ALFUF7I9UiRVU1GXubVHJXY3vCmaSDqltgJjt7G4MrMNgp-80uD3ZfQgt_8Hu5lDnhaZF24YRHZkHEVIcZbX58pN1LA_sxErE9pk5QkX-KDcKPxobssi/s400/blob+portrait-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />When I step on these things, they squoosh like modeling clay, and if they haven't dried out yet, they slick like oil. It's as if the combined ingredients of nature's seabottom and spews of incoming ships have created some kind of beach cookie dough, a perfectly delectable delight for seabirds. <em>The Western Sandpiper below is apparantly on a diet - a small portion:</em><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoCYya77JYQNp8HgILfzUqllZUwUGroV-u0F21E292t7txPyH2f7YTYATi3dLivOsTictLgV3EZ6jvV0QEJkOuwVQoQaRckUBQbGl33kRncYZjvyxJLoGygL17uuttDmoc5r2SqZ1GFYYO/s1600-h/sandpiper+eating+blob-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297914849767730562" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoCYya77JYQNp8HgILfzUqllZUwUGroV-u0F21E292t7txPyH2f7YTYATi3dLivOsTictLgV3EZ6jvV0QEJkOuwVQoQaRckUBQbGl33kRncYZjvyxJLoGygL17uuttDmoc5r2SqZ1GFYYO/s400/sandpiper+eating+blob-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />After a time, these cookie dough blobs eventually dissolve into the sand and become part of the ever-continuing process of earth re-cleansing herself.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggWMupsvtKs9XDOu1RKcCt5Gew7TQqZgXtbYA2eXkTbWMOBQPvpC-ArnHivzYS9M5elAL0K_Zou4YKTX6-WLSP3cFxDiLjH79G3-qqo4cp3qFt-3nyPopGyZnu3b7Xk0zdJ-fwA3cOKicP/s1600-h/flat+beachscape-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297916481508263010" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggWMupsvtKs9XDOu1RKcCt5Gew7TQqZgXtbYA2eXkTbWMOBQPvpC-ArnHivzYS9M5elAL0K_Zou4YKTX6-WLSP3cFxDiLjH79G3-qqo4cp3qFt-3nyPopGyZnu3b7Xk0zdJ-fwA3cOKicP/s400/flat+beachscape-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Stay tuned for The Dredging of Port Hueneme Harbor - PART IIcoyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-80219640553504213312009-01-06T21:25:00.000-08:002009-01-08T10:43:28.386-08:00Dog owners happy-to-disobey beach rules and threaten seabirds"Oh, isn't it so cute the way my dog chases the birds?"<br /><br />See Spot run wild and free! (Free as a bird?)<br /><br />I understand, BUT... did you know?<br /><br />Dogs and humans can be the deciding factor on whether an injured, tired or distressed bird lives or dies. And it's against the rules to bring your animals onto Port <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hueneme</span> beach.<br /><br />I post the rules here. First, in English:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpLtVj0QlEVXz32fq8Wri6Tkyb8d183HkUHhVYyyNrSp_ual3ZlNlh3cthj5agyq_b9lsEEFz3p-mWUM755vrBB9cQlHK3nMS-iVdCbaSht7dZFfGIowceqdycO3Y_5oUyyvlgYP15LLSH/s1600-h/Port+Hueneme+rules-English-red-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288426043801403938" style="WIDTH: 299px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpLtVj0QlEVXz32fq8Wri6Tkyb8d183HkUHhVYyyNrSp_ual3ZlNlh3cthj5agyq_b9lsEEFz3p-mWUM755vrBB9cQlHK3nMS-iVdCbaSht7dZFfGIowceqdycO3Y_5oUyyvlgYP15LLSH/s400/Port+Hueneme+rules-English-red-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />#3007 Dogs Must Be on a Continuously-Held Leash<br />#4008 No Animals on Sand (Seaward side of Pathways)<br /><br />Then in Spanish:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX7F4mIFRbRDPduB3l-ikpEDabRiCUOVJIcK98-QF8ZEfCOePMZB7lV8AZVXmrzN04pLDxtj7zhEoyTKjLYZwkNLic4Vs_qy0m-reZUuAXrAP9-OFi5sozzqlnvSczzbMc7QetTMNSbCot/s1600-h/Port+Hueneme+rules-Spanish-red-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288430202954615666" style="WIDTH: 306px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX7F4mIFRbRDPduB3l-ikpEDabRiCUOVJIcK98-QF8ZEfCOePMZB7lV8AZVXmrzN04pLDxtj7zhEoyTKjLYZwkNLic4Vs_qy0m-reZUuAXrAP9-OFi5sozzqlnvSczzbMc7QetTMNSbCot/s400/Port+Hueneme+rules-Spanish-red-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />#3007 Se <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Requiere</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Perros</span> en <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Correa</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Agarrada</span> en Mano<br />#4008 No <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">se</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Permiten</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Animales</span> en la Arena (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Paseo</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">lado</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">de</span> la <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Playa</span>)<br /><br />I found myself witnessing a pelican's nightmare tonight when I strolled the beach at sunset. I am posting my experience as an illustration of my point.<br /><br />When I first spotted the tired guy, he was trying to negotiate the high waves.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKAR6X4Hf41Zy9r5SsPHt7TpNKvd6-xQn1vDFXHmyQBcLs9AMUJuLElEpoSpBTvPIg0fsNynV4MCPuRtKESE8wkb4kk8A0PJf4UnXSIh4zdUrxa8ZWqRvbIWGXYt-pLTwuvwFT2JLPxtrC/s1600-h/Pelican-incoming-2-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288431872051809106" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 263px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKAR6X4Hf41Zy9r5SsPHt7TpNKvd6-xQn1vDFXHmyQBcLs9AMUJuLElEpoSpBTvPIg0fsNynV4MCPuRtKESE8wkb4kk8A0PJf4UnXSIh4zdUrxa8ZWqRvbIWGXYt-pLTwuvwFT2JLPxtrC/s400/Pelican-incoming-2-small.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div>He was definitely <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">coming</span> in.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZLV-j3WQszLKx3SbcSETWVA-bMeUPySadXtmaNpVXf1h1Tz3-77louhlF0iNH5YTEgOsIYFkye-qhor0qOpIw-LGk2_9NfUexE4S9GwFPjByaljd60dtsrBQinUfFIvrCjf7YTSs-lba/s1600-h/Pelican-incoming-3-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288432031999887650" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZLV-j3WQszLKx3SbcSETWVA-bMeUPySadXtmaNpVXf1h1Tz3-77louhlF0iNH5YTEgOsIYFkye-qhor0qOpIw-LGk2_9NfUexE4S9GwFPjByaljd60dtsrBQinUfFIvrCjf7YTSs-lba/s400/Pelican-incoming-3-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Once he got to shore, I made a wide girth around him to take this shot:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY-BTsVDrBsFiIMbvOrqdPtFqjTYVT8vl3H30GLRQMo5smPdbrPYLbQ2dMcV2amH8bP0g0gPBuy1Qmc_-jmBqSBuN3FPGR5nfnR6Ja8qPRcGpCPP7_a7FWLH2Ag8W_kwtaCw_UtQH_zQ0h/s1600-h/Pelican-beach-1-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288433292330536834" style="WIDTH: 333px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY-BTsVDrBsFiIMbvOrqdPtFqjTYVT8vl3H30GLRQMo5smPdbrPYLbQ2dMcV2amH8bP0g0gPBuy1Qmc_-jmBqSBuN3FPGR5nfnR6Ja8qPRcGpCPP7_a7FWLH2Ag8W_kwtaCw_UtQH_zQ0h/s400/Pelican-beach-1-small.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div>In the next photo, you can see where he stood in comparison to Port <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Hueneme</span> Pier in the background:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5WxWFQBcrt5DFQCASKiX_32HRWuKmVWGm6w1YSn9EcyRH6KI6LUTujbQGnNfXo83Fri2nxnWJOn_0E9UiyxVH615N4-rCy6cfwOuSP1yCTjB72I1IoJ6rfhb475BoeT2PWT3TDEDLKbJk/s1600-h/Pelican-beach-2-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288434673893997858" style="WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5WxWFQBcrt5DFQCASKiX_32HRWuKmVWGm6w1YSn9EcyRH6KI6LUTujbQGnNfXo83Fri2nxnWJOn_0E9UiyxVH615N4-rCy6cfwOuSP1yCTjB72I1IoJ6rfhb475BoeT2PWT3TDEDLKbJk/s400/Pelican-beach-2-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I stood by and kept an eye on him. And then I saw the man and woman with their two little dogs. I thought, "Well, that's cool. At least they're keeping them on a leash." But then they were getting awfully close to the pelican, and I was starting to get concerned.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWjaeIB5w0qWXjiGE82a8TQoyg47PTQXGw4lIEpIhFmO9xe85AEHmiolAxPKF5AgysFy-Pjwym3kZycBIXwufNVyUUxVT6xVLEP71R7h79Q0Kis7zvdaj8OvV7o72Zz9NK-fgZEdcJ0036/s1600-h/man+with+dogs-pelican-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288436380188235410" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 284px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWjaeIB5w0qWXjiGE82a8TQoyg47PTQXGw4lIEpIhFmO9xe85AEHmiolAxPKF5AgysFy-Pjwym3kZycBIXwufNVyUUxVT6xVLEP71R7h79Q0Kis7zvdaj8OvV7o72Zz9NK-fgZEdcJ0036/s400/man+with+dogs-pelican-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />As I stood in view and took this photo, it had not been in my wildest imagination that this man would actually unleash his dogs right there where the tired pelican rested on shore. What the... ? And the two little dogs ran straight for him. I screamed, "No. No!!" But it was too late. The pelican did what all tired birds do when threatened, they go back into the sea. And he was having a hard time. He was too tired to fly, and he wasn't swimming either, more like just floating in the surf, his wings falling limp on both sides. He was just really tired, and I knew it. I was so angry at the stupid dog owners!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbdkceprlfSSy6rAyKlGQjKG3EZNQwT7PQmm0v6GUEX_qqi8QKgR8kyU7nWUeUfcdbMN4nxDW-Z2c2G00WV_1f5yHviPTWd23umLexiXXDH3PlavHLkVUgshbw0n2KF8ahjPkXrHmmUDGB/s1600-h/Pelican-beach-sunset-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288995184976904546" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbdkceprlfSSy6rAyKlGQjKG3EZNQwT7PQmm0v6GUEX_qqi8QKgR8kyU7nWUeUfcdbMN4nxDW-Z2c2G00WV_1f5yHviPTWd23umLexiXXDH3PlavHLkVUgshbw0n2KF8ahjPkXrHmmUDGB/s400/Pelican-beach-sunset-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />But despite this inconsiderate act, the little guy came back to shore, and walked slowly up the beach until he got to a safe resting place, by all the leftover dredge from the harbor (which I will be posting about soon). I also had to tell a group of boys with fishing poles to stay clear of the pelican. If he went back into the water again, I didn't think his chances would be good.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCt0oiuXu_uOvWCky9s_DJyIXNsrv7jzxifREAas0f3OHdPs4tteVYeO-plvQo3pL6sdz9UoB5dxEsP-8uf7Mp66xf_wh2E9nwJpMdTzhyphenhyphenBKS6NLBw_-YFtkm18PlJrXoDrYntyoY4ml6o/s1600-h/Pelican-ship-1-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288438226015487410" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 291px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCt0oiuXu_uOvWCky9s_DJyIXNsrv7jzxifREAas0f3OHdPs4tteVYeO-plvQo3pL6sdz9UoB5dxEsP-8uf7Mp66xf_wh2E9nwJpMdTzhyphenhyphenBKS6NLBw_-YFtkm18PlJrXoDrYntyoY4ml6o/s400/Pelican-ship-1-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />There are many threats to the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">wildlife</span> in this huge seaport. As the ship sailed out of port, I sent a little energy to the pelican.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipSoHqIW5Sm8xmhwb0SjMSyRh43EIVBjiyhT71Cy3UX8UgztHJOj78BZS2jUiANmmDAQ_AD1bImptG7qOB9wVWjk3uXR9OqAvGj1GN0bmpw9pPPODQcLnnzNnjGcnWoz1WL5OgzqYS7UyD/s1600-h/Pelican-ship-2-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288438571284004178" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipSoHqIW5Sm8xmhwb0SjMSyRh43EIVBjiyhT71Cy3UX8UgztHJOj78BZS2jUiANmmDAQ_AD1bImptG7qOB9wVWjk3uXR9OqAvGj1GN0bmpw9pPPODQcLnnzNnjGcnWoz1WL5OgzqYS7UyD/s400/Pelican-ship-2-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I will return to check on him first thing in the morning. Rest well, little guy.</div><div></div><div></div><div><strong><span style="color:#330033;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#330033;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#330033;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="color:#330033;">And </span><span style="color:#ff0000;">please, please, proud dog owners</span><span style="color:#330033;">, if you're going to break the beach rules, do so with caution and consideration of these precious wild creatures.</span></strong></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>There is also disturbing pelican news from the <a href="http://intbirdrescue.blogspot.com/2009/01/whats-wrong-with-brown-pelicans.html" target="_blank">International Bird Rescue Research Center</a>. (What's causing fatigued pelicans to drop from the sky?) </div>coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-72407331930576355242009-01-02T20:47:00.000-08:002009-01-02T22:13:58.572-08:00The cormorants came back<div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#333399;">Happy New Year to humans and birds alike.</span></strong></div><br />In my previous post (Dec 30), I said I would return to the beach the following morning with my camera, because I thought I had seen a pair of cormorants diving for fish beyond the breakers that day. And I hadn't taken my camera with me. I did return early the next morning, camera hanging over my shoulder, and there they were; the cormorants had come again.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYh0aEqm1bQtfcKt3F-YhmPadZ0Mh34RHoza-t-Pb43AqBtizLRNxyvymFsJlSh7hEJT4MvZ3xg_RROoYGEDoZFkVXc2vceKnxYJj6bhTf_vWsEF3naNrGKP8oap4zwhFCO1BWT37W5eQ9/s1600-h/cormorant+pair-1-cropped.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286930495414133954" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYh0aEqm1bQtfcKt3F-YhmPadZ0Mh34RHoza-t-Pb43AqBtizLRNxyvymFsJlSh7hEJT4MvZ3xg_RROoYGEDoZFkVXc2vceKnxYJj6bhTf_vWsEF3naNrGKP8oap4zwhFCO1BWT37W5eQ9/s400/cormorant+pair-1-cropped.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I feel a kinship with these birds now, as well as the grebes.<br /><br />Something had caught my eye through the viewfinder after I had found the pair of cormorants again. I snapped a photo of what I thought was a pelican landing, judging by the large wingspan. But when I looked out in the water, there were now three cormorants. I knew the third had just joined the other two. According to the book, "Introduction to Birds of the Southern California Coast," cormorants fly with rapid wing beats and neck extended. And when they hit the water, they skid to a halt. I think I captured this skidding-to-a-halt thing here.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlkj_OP39M4O1CIfNCTEUSLHApfZvRdrT27Qucu6irrLivn2sSSsVLSVNM9VqdYHiZ7eWoy3nUOhuBUxg2sxPSE9Xa_AdyCJPiEIhVoiozGi9CYpujFS7pJon0gxwKJbOXYwHRjVit07WD/s1600-h/cormorant+landing-cropped.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286931866548945922" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 282px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlkj_OP39M4O1CIfNCTEUSLHApfZvRdrT27Qucu6irrLivn2sSSsVLSVNM9VqdYHiZ7eWoy3nUOhuBUxg2sxPSE9Xa_AdyCJPiEIhVoiozGi9CYpujFS7pJon0gxwKJbOXYwHRjVit07WD/s400/cormorant+landing-cropped.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I tried to determine what kind of cormorants these were, as I knew they were the same as my cormorant I had lost.<br /><br />However, I am limited by my point-and-shoot <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Fujifilm</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Finepix</span> S8000<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">fd</span> camera. Eventually, I'd like to upgrade to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Finepix</span> S100<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">fs</span>, for those sharper images and optical zoom. I'd like to upgrade myself to advanced amateur photographer, too. The photo below is the closest in distance I could get with my current zoom. By this photo, I determined that all the cormorants I had seen were Brandt's Cormorants, and not the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Double</span>-crested or Pelagic cormorants.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA4JnZ2Ftdx5PdbSB8lhzNn76ufRprwDwTHsxLgaHZpW_zbJXWKIC7uG5kq2MBBXfVFIG5ZsFcKPR_sq01is8O9svJdV_K0zo79K_xVBpCDTxv0DNIMZAXY5cx3LZhGIgz8QOf5sXYy8aR/s1600-h/cormorant+single-2-cropped.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286938497487670354" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 276px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA4JnZ2Ftdx5PdbSB8lhzNn76ufRprwDwTHsxLgaHZpW_zbJXWKIC7uG5kq2MBBXfVFIG5ZsFcKPR_sq01is8O9svJdV_K0zo79K_xVBpCDTxv0DNIMZAXY5cx3LZhGIgz8QOf5sXYy8aR/s400/cormorant+single-2-cropped.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The Brandt's Cormorants are the most common cormorant in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Southern_California_Bight" target="_blank">Southern California Bight</a>. (See more cormorant photos in my December posts.)coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-61037707076928672272008-12-30T21:01:00.000-08:002008-12-30T22:36:40.755-08:00The oil-soaked cormorant died in the waterIt's been two weeks since my last post, but it's not because there wasn't something to talk about; it's because I haven't had the words to describe the sadness I felt when, three days after I had spotted the cormorant on shore, two days after I had seen him again in the water near Port Hueneme Pier, I found him dead on the beach. I had missed a day in between because there had been a rainstorm. More than likely, he died of hypothermia. It was a lot for me to take in, the grief hard to bear, knowing I could have saved him if I had known he was in trouble. I should have made my plan, and executed a rescue. I'm so sad about the bird. He really was a magnificent creature.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhks1cuSnwP81azYkS9MD9ukPQI3tcq-bWlUOYrwQlW8IiXUHmhIOxfGDDC4QHFDsFvaN38YisuydT0mHtF3JSrVF26HOfl752NSHC8df98hc_aqnRaAWW99gfdlH7xpHPVPJ2whkdSXlCM/s1600-h/dead+cormorant-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285823153974982722" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 269px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhks1cuSnwP81azYkS9MD9ukPQI3tcq-bWlUOYrwQlW8IiXUHmhIOxfGDDC4QHFDsFvaN38YisuydT0mHtF3JSrVF26HOfl752NSHC8df98hc_aqnRaAWW99gfdlH7xpHPVPJ2whkdSXlCM/s400/dead+cormorant-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I took his picture because the sorrow was important. It will always be important. The two bird deaths here in Port Hueneme happened as a result of the oil spill 30 miles up the coast--the Santa Barbara County oil spill near Carpinteria on December 7th. I found the oil-soaked grebe on December 10th already dead, and the oil-soaked cormorant died sometime before the morning of December 19th.<br /><br />I will post again, as there are other things I want to discuss, like the dredging of Port Hueneme Harbor, and the clay-looking oily, rocky blobs left on shore as a result.<br /><br />But I wanted to leave this post with a little hope:<br /><br />Today I saw a pair of cormorants diving for fish today out beyond the breakers. I didn't take photos, as I haven't been taking my camera to the beach lately. I will return in the morning to check on them, and bring my camera just in case. But from now on, it is my first priority to make sure the birds are okay before snapping photos.<br /><br />My husband and I rescued a young seagull with a broken wing two weekends ago. I had spotted him on the beach following sunset a couple of days before, and didn't think I could handle the rescue. When I approached him, he would run away--fast. So when we saw him again, my husband helped me corral him. I made the handoff to Liz, who had rescued two other seagulls the same day near Channel Islands Harbor and was taking them to a bird care facility. It was Liz who told me that mine was a young seagull, because he was brown-colored. I didn't have a camera at the time of his rescue, but I did go out the following day and take shots of the different-colored seagulls. I am including two:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq-5B_SGybBxQDHKeZ4sRTfiYEZ6ALiBJtkL9iJovsjct5ywxsUpCMrZeSsKgSRhfyr6IqVXSaVcUROo78vl5tRSpxN1HNMiEYFyaFOOZ6wl7_IRXwT2JPKMAIEOusQ_wg9XZW4vx4exeI/s1600-h/PH-young-and-older+seagull-2-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285828309663274546" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq-5B_SGybBxQDHKeZ4sRTfiYEZ6ALiBJtkL9iJovsjct5ywxsUpCMrZeSsKgSRhfyr6IqVXSaVcUROo78vl5tRSpxN1HNMiEYFyaFOOZ6wl7_IRXwT2JPKMAIEOusQ_wg9XZW4vx4exeI/s400/PH-young-and-older+seagull-2-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_248dC4Ey4_Vs81S_gYmz6OvZGkUv5OgEgfyd2s2qjLehyphenhyphenwiUQyyKacKQvGxMg9DdgWKCtiXA0ERIE_D14xdpdxn_vqib4ClNvh36l_BCqgryqf5FOf71yzZ3sIAzhVlS0B8Rd_hcmEb7/s1600-h/PH-young-and-older+seagull-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285828167918614562" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 281px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_248dC4Ey4_Vs81S_gYmz6OvZGkUv5OgEgfyd2s2qjLehyphenhyphenwiUQyyKacKQvGxMg9DdgWKCtiXA0ERIE_D14xdpdxn_vqib4ClNvh36l_BCqgryqf5FOf71yzZ3sIAzhVlS0B8Rd_hcmEb7/s400/PH-young-and-older+seagull-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>All these wild birds deserve to have a clean ocean in which to live.<br /></strong></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLTkebs5iDDHchluXmzteovNd_yUThoqqOt9BvjSXrnB3uUTCUTB9p6iWNbfc24BCBAFFwOCpjKEz7vwPw74wwFg0MLtQsLO6U4iRy1hpo-xJGZKbZi2q6KronDdIncEl3z8NQAiYe_xGN/s1600-h/sunset3-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285831273117856018" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLTkebs5iDDHchluXmzteovNd_yUThoqqOt9BvjSXrnB3uUTCUTB9p6iWNbfc24BCBAFFwOCpjKEz7vwPw74wwFg0MLtQsLO6U4iRy1hpo-xJGZKbZi2q6KronDdIncEl3z8NQAiYe_xGN/s400/sunset3-small.jpg" border="0" /></a>coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-11181516189052623632008-12-16T21:26:00.000-08:002009-01-08T21:13:49.593-08:00International Bird Rescue Research Center<a href="http://intbirdrescue.blogspot.com/2008/12/santa-barbara-spill-update-three-oiled.html" target="_blank">Santa Barbara spill update: 3 oiled birds in care</a><br /><br />Three live oiled birds are now being treated at the <a href="http://www.ibrrc.org/so_cal_center.html" target="_blank">Los Angeles Oiled Bird Care and Education Center in San Pedro</a>. This is OWCN's (<a href="http://www.vetmed.ucdavis.edu/owcn/participants.html" target="_blank">Oiled Wildlife Care Network</a>) largest oiled bird response facility in Southern California.coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-91299236106182597132008-12-16T15:51:00.000-08:002008-12-16T21:05:28.220-08:00The oil-soaked bird standing on shore was a cormorantI sought help after my last post, to find out what kind of bird I had seen last Friday standing on Port <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Hueneme</span> shore. It was a magnificent-looking seabird, except that his body was covered in black oil.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNHeWFt7mNVPSg_ByRBuUMjYSha7FrBdYWPW9ececGK2n7xRRYmuUQjtlGApz_Gi2j5AgzPaJmXf5VIXeWx2_rlB5eLnJF6OW0qpY4Y4L6Pr7LTac2_UFk1v1_Iuo6YUSxhnvrO6igvU0/s1600-h/oiled+cormorant-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280541359249213506" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 311px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNHeWFt7mNVPSg_ByRBuUMjYSha7FrBdYWPW9ececGK2n7xRRYmuUQjtlGApz_Gi2j5AgzPaJmXf5VIXeWx2_rlB5eLnJF6OW0qpY4Y4L6Pr7LTac2_UFk1v1_Iuo6YUSxhnvrO6igvU0/s400/oiled+cormorant-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Liz, a volunteer bird rescuer for Wildlife Care of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ventura</span></span> County, wrote back to me, and identified the bird as a cormorant. She had just rescued one the day before. She said they were a bit more aggressive than the grebes, but that they could still be caught by throwing a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">towel</span> over them. And unlike the grebes, they usually stand if they come to shore (grebes cannot function or survive on land). It's also not necessary to make a donut-shaped cushion for the cormorant to sit on, like you need to do for the aquatic soft-bellied grebes. Liz cautioned me about the beaks of the cormorants; they have little hooks at the end. I would need to be careful if I were given a second chance to rescue this one, or another cormorant in the future.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Nyr0Pa3NMid16anUPxOXQdumuo7BnQ01Suj-qQ9TPB8li9i741-P4bCofkR27PuSNTKf1xGHgXSHUIcvAsTnk7VEjZmvGJfmsAVSbURO3tpKo9Z7tmdtyjjsP_QQCy0C4fc0ywh8382o/s1600-h/cormorant+closeup.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280549599004671586" style="WIDTH: 323px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Nyr0Pa3NMid16anUPxOXQdumuo7BnQ01Suj-qQ9TPB8li9i741-P4bCofkR27PuSNTKf1xGHgXSHUIcvAsTnk7VEjZmvGJfmsAVSbURO3tpKo9Z7tmdtyjjsP_QQCy0C4fc0ywh8382o/s400/cormorant+closeup.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Liz also instructed that, once I throw the towel over him, it would be good to try and grab his head out through the towel, so he doesn't wriggle out. And if a bird is oiled, the best thing to do is put them in a box and keep them warm, and get them to someone who knows how to take care of them ASAP. Some oiled birds go straight to Malibu, as the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Ventura</span></span>/Santa Barbara facilities are not as equipped to handle this kind of injury. Liz told me she had also seen a seagull whose body was half black from oil the day she rescued the cormorant. She reiterated my thoughts exactly, "It's so sad what happens to our poor wildlife."<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj280xi087uBKqFnivA_BBt00T6kIE5lVtgznAwcX-FWS4MkyifnJjbIj88-D75Etx-Re9ITEMTXG-5oBBT0oUuwH6a6Xz28ZiFOEjk5m1lRSF9IbOGW6emOVAhS4Rze1YE9OGw7AUS0qKN/s1600-h/cormorant+closeup-swimming1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280551316362807874" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 314px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj280xi087uBKqFnivA_BBt00T6kIE5lVtgznAwcX-FWS4MkyifnJjbIj88-D75Etx-Re9ITEMTXG-5oBBT0oUuwH6a6Xz28ZiFOEjk5m1lRSF9IbOGW6emOVAhS4Rze1YE9OGw7AUS0qKN/s400/cormorant+closeup-swimming1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I also received a second confirmation from Anna Reams, Director of Wildlife Care of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ventura</span></span> County, that this bird was a cormorant. After viewing the photos in my previous blog, she gave me additional information based on how the cormorant was swimming. Anna said that he was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">definitely</span> covered with oil because he was submerged, and not floating on top of the water; that's a clear indication he is oil-soaked. I was so sorry to hear about that, as I had not known what to look for, even though once he had gotten back into the water, there wasn't anything I could've done. I am still sorry I had not tried to capture him.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5nLl1-IhVSww8y3d3DByvxKAAuW0_IgLYzV-Z0wIW9eddu3i5psAAyFmCZHQvJDCHVleKbcmO8HFfGNZuUQvuECJeVRcUafT4BV-mUXHdxnHAK2MGZjVTs3v9jgIC7gHw5bIALAVkh-0Y/s1600-h/cormorant+closeup-swimming2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280551838653766242" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 291px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5nLl1-IhVSww8y3d3DByvxKAAuW0_IgLYzV-Z0wIW9eddu3i5psAAyFmCZHQvJDCHVleKbcmO8HFfGNZuUQvuECJeVRcUafT4BV-mUXHdxnHAK2MGZjVTs3v9jgIC7gHw5bIALAVkh-0Y/s400/cormorant+closeup-swimming2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The following day I went out to the beach on what I have come to call my daily Bird Watch Beach Patrol (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">BWBP</span></span>). I think I spotted the same cormorant, and it seemed like he was still holding on, though he was swimming low in the water. (bird on left)<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1XuQpz3VVlRBrKLqmSTA_fJrZMTtXSAeELnz_-gFEUYiPF4hjMXtph0Dwn6yikQPXaLc1d275pnFlbdlIddxL0LP5BnL2MZAORg1nmsgKoHxLMu3h5-cBPXB9Ygfxj4csr3jC-PxlVvO/s1600-h/maybe+cormorant-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280552924565017874" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 221px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1XuQpz3VVlRBrKLqmSTA_fJrZMTtXSAeELnz_-gFEUYiPF4hjMXtph0Dwn6yikQPXaLc1d275pnFlbdlIddxL0LP5BnL2MZAORg1nmsgKoHxLMu3h5-cBPXB9Ygfxj4csr3jC-PxlVvO/s400/maybe+cormorant-1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />He was hanging out near the end of the Port <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Hueneme</span></span> pier. I climbed the steps and walked out to see him.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyEwwWCSX28Jpfkxpa7BEQWdyRo2UxYIzmrrRD0A56ywqJyOvzyCWe2lQagzJLP9OqbSW1d6hZgfhXZEpd75Hr-aUrLbJUP8xC6zlJ_ml0nCw1VQxEKZGeCSVx-cus920S4if7sXRJwh7h/s1600-h/cormorant-swimming1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280555532980500690" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 281px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyEwwWCSX28Jpfkxpa7BEQWdyRo2UxYIzmrrRD0A56ywqJyOvzyCWe2lQagzJLP9OqbSW1d6hZgfhXZEpd75Hr-aUrLbJUP8xC6zlJ_ml0nCw1VQxEKZGeCSVx-cus920S4if7sXRJwh7h/s400/cormorant-swimming1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I could feel the vibrancy of his spirit. I know that sounds a bit crazy, but sometimes I can read energy, and I was darn sure it was the same cormorant. It was like I recognized his personality.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUaJAwqmXlsPD0Flg-PIpMXnpPyZ1j07LRwSQyQNViUS6VOMDH2Jf8JKxj8suod02ELGP0zUaZf76AotRqQP1AIAre2wXgWOL_Arxq5k2DqxS3UAIBprOJEU6xDMP8OZVlWBxlrPGZyg8h/s1600-h/cormorant-swimming2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280556068103367538" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 289px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUaJAwqmXlsPD0Flg-PIpMXnpPyZ1j07LRwSQyQNViUS6VOMDH2Jf8JKxj8suod02ELGP0zUaZf76AotRqQP1AIAre2wXgWOL_Arxq5k2DqxS3UAIBprOJEU6xDMP8OZVlWBxlrPGZyg8h/s400/cormorant-swimming2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />But that was the last time I saw him. I have looked for him in the past four days, but he hasn't been out there. I will be on the lookout for more of his kind, and I'll know what to do next time I see one of these beautiful birds covered in oil.<br /><br /><span style="color:#003300;"><u>An additional side note about catching seabirds</u>:</span> Always get between them and the ocean before approaching them. Then you can chase them up towards the sand, because once they get back in the water, they're almost impossible to catch. They can dive under the water and slip out very easily. <strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">*</span></strong>But with an oiled bird especially, going back in the water may mean they will suffer from hypothermia and die. When birds get their feathers soiled, they cannot maintain their body heat, and the water seeps below the outer feathers and soaks the downy ones underneath. They die from being cold. Anna cautioned me that when I see these guys compromised like this on the beach, the best thing to do is to have a plan in my head before I attempt a rescue, because they will use the last bit of their energy to get back into the water. "You will only get one chance," she said.<br /><br />Thank you Liz and Anna for all your <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">valuable</span> information.coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-8028019252462041672008-12-11T19:34:00.001-08:002008-12-11T22:16:43.784-08:00Oil Spill off the coast of Santa Barbara CountyOn the morning of Sunday, December 7, 2008, the oil spill was reported after platform workers discovered oil had leaked from a finger-sized hole in a pump line. I don't know how many birds were affected in Santa Barbara County, but I found one dead oil-soaked grebe yesterday (December 10th), and another bird--a species I have not seen before--standing on the Port Hueneme shore this morning, soaked in oil. See series of photos below.<br /><br />This was the same platform that was responsible for an 80,000-barrel spill that killed 3,686 birds in 1969, and that underestimation did not include the birds that had died at sea, or whose carcasses had not been recovered. It was an environmental disaster of gargantuan proportions.<br /><a href="http://www.sbwcn.org/spill.shtml" target="_blank">Santa Barbara's 1969 Oil Spill</a><br /><br />I am including this photo of the dead grebe I found, because the sadness of even one bird being affected by this kind of petroleum-based mishap is worth acknowledging.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjo59d-MnCKXOw4qb02v6dDWrBbulqtE0ZdRKGKYTg0LOoUqwAl2qNBynejdW3J8rGF2w8-QXfDYMAqt7wNHtZhoNbfFZts3a8bRlJVY08DZfX9zk20EuYA3HtbeEvcq4QXsUIcGgeGrt/s1600-h/Oil-soaked+dead+grebe-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278752058999313394" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 345px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjo59d-MnCKXOw4qb02v6dDWrBbulqtE0ZdRKGKYTg0LOoUqwAl2qNBynejdW3J8rGF2w8-QXfDYMAqt7wNHtZhoNbfFZts3a8bRlJVY08DZfX9zk20EuYA3HtbeEvcq4QXsUIcGgeGrt/s400/Oil-soaked+dead+grebe-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Two days after the spill, congresswoman Lois Capps, representative from the affected district, pledged to work with the Obama administration to protect the coastline from further oil development. She also called the oil spill another "painful reminder that drilling for oil is a dirty and dangerous business."<br /><br />We have got to look to other fuel sources, and soon. As I walked the Port Hueneme beach (about 30 miles south of Carpinteria) yesterday afternoon and this morning, I could smell petroleum in the air. Maybe it was the incoming and outgoing ships into the only deep sea port between Los Angeles and San Francisco, but it was the first time I had noticed this level of oily pungency in the air. I imagine, though, that all those huge ships floating in and out of the harbor are powered by fossil fuel.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDoHjgRlGKV_qpmmVyb0Mi66KiOIXDBwmH79nGsiAltOyLpQtC6xsZWHVgzQ58-a7FgdlyiebZiwNjzR4ri8VpMhKHYYSK6rtms_282EndXUV7ub3OYs35iauXVvqUG-yxh1LLYCX7McET/s1600-h/unknown+bird-1-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278757956011284050" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 354px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDoHjgRlGKV_qpmmVyb0Mi66KiOIXDBwmH79nGsiAltOyLpQtC6xsZWHVgzQ58-a7FgdlyiebZiwNjzR4ri8VpMhKHYYSK6rtms_282EndXUV7ub3OYs35iauXVvqUG-yxh1LLYCX7McET/s400/unknown+bird-1-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />This was the bird I couldn't identify. As I moved closer, he went back out to sea. I thought he was just black-feathered, but on closer inspection of my photographs, it looked to me like this one had oil smeared on his feathers, too.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg319VYS78cCE30WwXz6c_Gw_UJuz6jNTK8bfsqqLyzyxlLZOl8sP2mXPcUOUSnH4p52210sLE0EZcprlxKW2yfvYSGAFSOngTiyPSDElq71DicE9JWailrcO8CkqlZGElUsmKo4ly96vV0/s1600-h/unknown+bird-2-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278758394895723842" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 355px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg319VYS78cCE30WwXz6c_Gw_UJuz6jNTK8bfsqqLyzyxlLZOl8sP2mXPcUOUSnH4p52210sLE0EZcprlxKW2yfvYSGAFSOngTiyPSDElq71DicE9JWailrcO8CkqlZGElUsmKo4ly96vV0/s400/unknown+bird-2-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I wouldn't have been able to catch him, I don't think. He took off for the water as soon as I got near him. I just hope he survived out there. I read in the Malibu Surfside News that any soiling, or even just one drop of oil on a sea bird will compromise its feathers' protective structure and allow wind and water to reach the bird's skin. The article states, "There’s an old wives’ tale that a bird’s feathers are coated with a protective oil which makes water bead. This is not the case. A bird’s feathers are like shingles on a house. They are structured just so and aligned in such a way to protect the bird from the elements."<br />Here's a link to the article:<br /><a href="http://malibusurfsidenews.com/blog/2008/02/rescuer-says-latest-oiled-sea-bird.html" target="_blank">Malibu Surfside News: Rescuer Says Latest Oiled Sea Bird Event Points Out Shortcomings</a><br /><br />I'm going back out to the beach in the morning, to see if this bird returned. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJzjJOaihKHMft2ea4RK-y58DIpv2pczxHP82_0QfbVEYwMLc9bS_X-EuzgDSgBM97mGJM8vQMalyu5neJXhyphenhyphenIiTQLCDYTWTJYD0SCa-wABaQEEkcKU2AEIHFfFtFQRdlcA3Ecr5MDjHc/s1600-h/unknown+bird-3-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278761857772509218" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 282px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSJzjJOaihKHMft2ea4RK-y58DIpv2pczxHP82_0QfbVEYwMLc9bS_X-EuzgDSgBM97mGJM8vQMalyu5neJXhyphenhyphenIiTQLCDYTWTJYD0SCa-wABaQEEkcKU2AEIHFfFtFQRdlcA3Ecr5MDjHc/s400/unknown+bird-3-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I'm worried that he will get too cold and die if it stays out to sea.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimhuDUaI0tlZ3kpaq71WBF3sk4JGJ042MKP0BRJNQvlH3dCaMFlpVIlsR1Ol4cn95PNA6208BRhPeP7Il_8HC92b5CpthJvsTPZnJeKM1mcUNm2rSxQBrgouFbx_QHBfueLSH-6jmUou4b/s1600-h/unknown+bird-4-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278762529575421298" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimhuDUaI0tlZ3kpaq71WBF3sk4JGJ042MKP0BRJNQvlH3dCaMFlpVIlsR1Ol4cn95PNA6208BRhPeP7Il_8HC92b5CpthJvsTPZnJeKM1mcUNm2rSxQBrgouFbx_QHBfueLSH-6jmUou4b/s400/unknown+bird-4-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />12-9-08 Oil spill article:<br /><a href="http://www.ens-newswire.com/ens/dec2008/2008-12-09-092.asp" target="_blank">Oil Spill Off California Reminder of Offshore Drilling Danger</a><br /><span style="font-family:Helvetica;font-size:85%;color:#cccccc;"></span>coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-91927904425170667752008-12-02T20:04:00.000-08:002008-12-03T08:57:56.313-08:00The grebe that got away...It was a good thing, too. (By the way, this is a Western Grebe. )<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rvtMdpT1jAcZ2XDUMYgmnx1TfOs1pSUKkAqljY3AFgMy0jxCM0uq1q1qJyIgb1mrVHKZ8ZEVfXxQtcrk11uZH20tE5bBYgGX93c-VF2qtXz9gL1Uo5DLODLktiVu-s3sM-rwXW3uIWKu/s1600-h/getaway+grebe-1-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275419467420731106" style="WIDTH: 321px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rvtMdpT1jAcZ2XDUMYgmnx1TfOs1pSUKkAqljY3AFgMy0jxCM0uq1q1qJyIgb1mrVHKZ8ZEVfXxQtcrk11uZH20tE5bBYgGX93c-VF2qtXz9gL1Uo5DLODLktiVu-s3sM-rwXW3uIWKu/s400/getaway+grebe-1-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />On the last day of November, my husband and I first spotted this young grebe swimming between the pilings under Port Hueneme Pier. He seemed to be having a good time, but still, we were concerned, as he was coming in close to shore.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0by0Efe8hVuHXA7hYOwpsYarw72P_aMbkwf5fjm-7TaeX75S2RFRinrpVGRnvssXFMtkART_VRsKbONsppfZyokiedW5qYZ9GZ2Xy9EhhOXINQrcY8Zj6DWEwAXUs6umtV6XygSw5AQ_/s1600-h/getaway+grebe-2-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275420378185371314" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 251px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0by0Efe8hVuHXA7hYOwpsYarw72P_aMbkwf5fjm-7TaeX75S2RFRinrpVGRnvssXFMtkART_VRsKbONsppfZyokiedW5qYZ9GZ2Xy9EhhOXINQrcY8Zj6DWEwAXUs6umtV6XygSw5AQ_/s400/getaway+grebe-2-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />My husband ran back to the condo to retrieve a box and a donut cushion made from paper. The little grebe meandered a good distance north of the pier by the time my husband returned. The grebe kept sticking his neck under the water bobbing for fish.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK3SRdyt8PvJLIooottpb7wzK8nNCAE_cHzf1ZrZs4LHYzOgDa8KpTRJilboqXp9c_9VWp8koe5dfIvVUg5pHv7hGB3PG7HT2qrvcoy7g8ess_IxiQwfJ903d3HnM-AH9YoQ1U_jcR0ucf/s1600-h/grebe+fishing-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275422167082474498" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 244px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK3SRdyt8PvJLIooottpb7wzK8nNCAE_cHzf1ZrZs4LHYzOgDa8KpTRJilboqXp9c_9VWp8koe5dfIvVUg5pHv7hGB3PG7HT2qrvcoy7g8ess_IxiQwfJ903d3HnM-AH9YoQ1U_jcR0ucf/s400/grebe+fishing-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />And the young grebe finally did come to shore.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQx512DPhYJcZqqstWM18q-zrMR9XxGwvXTeF_SW9Nd7VdZZkIIc8UXGsOQqKSgloq_eLM3f2J7YM4hEVutSFUlOOD19WPq-ZxgYlEhP67FEBDFjwzLK_lWwaInZIgk7MeuRmjcaZQSIfI/s1600-h/getaway+grebe-5-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275422773139923858" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 259px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQx512DPhYJcZqqstWM18q-zrMR9XxGwvXTeF_SW9Nd7VdZZkIIc8UXGsOQqKSgloq_eLM3f2J7YM4hEVutSFUlOOD19WPq-ZxgYlEhP67FEBDFjwzLK_lWwaInZIgk7MeuRmjcaZQSIfI/s400/getaway+grebe-5-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />But he realized all to quickly this was not for him, and he had way too much energy to put up with me trying to rescue him.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9dhrkMO-jeecWbTpeHVwrbn0iTGtwDV2D7N4QHsOMfZK3TI-EoDHTtmT4YyqbgLZ7vbMT0ScGrTbTnJLLO7Ajv1_rBLXx2HMYhzFqWqy4Kw3DpQotRDKGGKK2E__jRXQIyzXvXFCanhIu/s1600-h/getaway+grebe-3-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275423222299539634" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 255px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9dhrkMO-jeecWbTpeHVwrbn0iTGtwDV2D7N4QHsOMfZK3TI-EoDHTtmT4YyqbgLZ7vbMT0ScGrTbTnJLLO7Ajv1_rBLXx2HMYhzFqWqy4Kw3DpQotRDKGGKK2E__jRXQIyzXvXFCanhIu/s400/getaway+grebe-3-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />He spent about thirty seconds on the beach before hightailing it back out to open sea. I was relieved to know he was okay.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcf_tVeCuBtXcVvGndJQLAyfGPSYldaWDqCLyG6D8B_d2W07TGK_y7aNueBkX49TugqVPZbIYUPRwwVL1seNBjy1Rua0hf0A6iXRpigNHr6Np1yAqVfstBUJGEByX6Nj9BUrwx1U3Cn2MV/s1600-h/getaway+grebe-4-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275423493033768466" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 290px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcf_tVeCuBtXcVvGndJQLAyfGPSYldaWDqCLyG6D8B_d2W07TGK_y7aNueBkX49TugqVPZbIYUPRwwVL1seNBjy1Rua0hf0A6iXRpigNHr6Np1yAqVfstBUJGEByX6Nj9BUrwx1U3Cn2MV/s400/getaway+grebe-4-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />His wings spread and helped lift him to freedom.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB2twj2LxbgobpaZNG8TJsn_a7wiX0-Deshb0yWfTRXD9uE25geDlJvLd_wAaisZ1luXaIDyXl9Hyzefeuhk1rDzVDx_-DMoNJYJmN2Fp_gGtH90NP6rwHATZnIQTjxxwpitdyexgZX_tL/s1600-h/getaway+grebe-6-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275423981535427026" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB2twj2LxbgobpaZNG8TJsn_a7wiX0-Deshb0yWfTRXD9uE25geDlJvLd_wAaisZ1luXaIDyXl9Hyzefeuhk1rDzVDx_-DMoNJYJmN2Fp_gGtH90NP6rwHATZnIQTjxxwpitdyexgZX_tL/s400/getaway+grebe-6-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Swimming back out to sea.<br /><br />I did, however, shoot a couple of photos during his brief visit to Port Hueneme beach. I am quite proud of the one below showing this grebe with a seagull. You can see the difference in the anatomy of these birds.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuBOe0TRWP6WCYWJPmYuSzcJzntYHDskzyPQypAuTwLdbTKjHyD1yEROkUSNgovT7hyrD5-LRcQHNG0SkJljTNTLckXnYgFkHpIyNXRATtTj9CZ9VFRjekmt5aO2UDEHkX53WNgFtLVZg_/s1600-h/grebe+and+seagull-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275424525515302498" style="WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuBOe0TRWP6WCYWJPmYuSzcJzntYHDskzyPQypAuTwLdbTKjHyD1yEROkUSNgovT7hyrD5-LRcQHNG0SkJljTNTLckXnYgFkHpIyNXRATtTj9CZ9VFRjekmt5aO2UDEHkX53WNgFtLVZg_/s400/grebe+and+seagull-small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Good luck, little fella.coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-53326516850325276952008-11-26T22:15:00.000-08:002008-12-11T21:03:14.058-08:00How to spot a grebe in trouble...<div align="center">Port Hueneme, California - November 25th, 2008</div><div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL9YCwg27cv9E0PfudVgwfTaM7-3EGTsZrX3GHyXTwoXMTkNy9qCFQ1DZqxfDeDN7-n0sM1_tru2hM5DCgLoQGy1P6xvzlg551uhMs4uMBkrPlxa7n1AfG26qnoILO3TNPN1R4_FqaqYDW/s1600-h/grebe+in+trouble-1-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273223268227097410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL9YCwg27cv9E0PfudVgwfTaM7-3EGTsZrX3GHyXTwoXMTkNy9qCFQ1DZqxfDeDN7-n0sM1_tru2hM5DCgLoQGy1P6xvzlg551uhMs4uMBkrPlxa7n1AfG26qnoILO3TNPN1R4_FqaqYDW/s400/grebe+in+trouble-1-small.jpg" border="0" /></a> The second grebe I rescued this week, I knew was in trouble. By now I had learned that if a grebe is coming close to shore, something's wrong. I took this photo of him in the surf, and then rushed back to my condo to get a towel and a box to put the little guy in. It was clear he was too exhausted to swim back out to sea.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGYR8lMqGCOyRg3lwiLxPXmLVJibvh8D4mKLBt6AhkfRelN1u3-a4UUq_Ed54pHQRGnoD-Lek2RYavu1-bPIWCJT6A9tKs8iWO0mb808JMGnuk6TCfewEGnwz15BLgEscfotd9lXLL6UX_/s1600-h/grebe+in+trouble-2-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273224092362074178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGYR8lMqGCOyRg3lwiLxPXmLVJibvh8D4mKLBt6AhkfRelN1u3-a4UUq_Ed54pHQRGnoD-Lek2RYavu1-bPIWCJT6A9tKs8iWO0mb808JMGnuk6TCfewEGnwz15BLgEscfotd9lXLL6UX_/s400/grebe+in+trouble-2-small.jpg" border="0" /></a> By the time I got back, the grebe was beached. I felt like I had to act quickly.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_xHTYBAr6wI3Qnhj7r5Ykwb_-Gr1RHT6FZg8F1boFS54CwUsYddc-iWo5cREC7s6H6-m7x2RsSmUuEaWbtMsnxc9pOkzxkNbe_uHIWFpmqg_ahyphenhyphenWE9I0mAnXKxm6ff3kSIkDcRXbm-_8m/s1600-h/scared+grebe-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273228035049983778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 274px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_xHTYBAr6wI3Qnhj7r5Ykwb_-Gr1RHT6FZg8F1boFS54CwUsYddc-iWo5cREC7s6H6-m7x2RsSmUuEaWbtMsnxc9pOkzxkNbe_uHIWFpmqg_ahyphenhyphenWE9I0mAnXKxm6ff3kSIkDcRXbm-_8m/s400/scared+grebe-small.jpg" border="0" /></a> But in my haste, <strong>I made a mistake!</strong> As painful as it was to see this poor water bird trying to escape over land, I thought it important to try to get a photo of it as a reminder to myself and others what <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">NOT</span></strong> to do when trying to save a beached grebe. A grebe's anatomy does not allow them to walk on land. They are an aquatic bird. In fact, even sitting on the sand is harmful to their delicate underbellies. The last place a grebe wants to be is on shore. The bird became frightened when I approached him. Seeing him try to hop on his aquatic legs over the sand to get away from me was heart wrenching! (Later, I had to forgive myself for this stupid mistake. )<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDNTrrCWDOw5BVkOjObpzWS3k7Atkig_iwCwwTU6Hh_lEset3emMEoY6rqrtStT88zla3e2S6iprKnqnUrdai47ffh7Bf0ZuPhkN_OfqqXv4dTa4Aw7ye-6UidSAwztp96FODlug8wxwNY/s1600-h/grebe+in+trouble-3-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273231504030061442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDNTrrCWDOw5BVkOjObpzWS3k7Atkig_iwCwwTU6Hh_lEset3emMEoY6rqrtStT88zla3e2S6iprKnqnUrdai47ffh7Bf0ZuPhkN_OfqqXv4dTa4Aw7ye-6UidSAwztp96FODlug8wxwNY/s400/grebe+in+trouble-3-small.jpg" border="0" /></a>I backed away, hoping he would stop. After three times of lifting himself up to try and get back to sea, he gave up again. He had exhausted himself further. This time I knew what to do. I removed my shoes, hiked up my pants, and waded out beyond him in the surf, to come at him from ocean side. He did not try to run this time. But be cautioned, grebes can take out an eye with their long beaks. It's best to throw a towel over them, and then gently lift them into a box.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrw7cLcAPT8HaoSTDDu3TNA1UGfVatdiyjQWXo8lTE4aW_EfnvJtpyXm87hRFiZPHwLcurnF11f5MXDzInxPp86yuiGLr1XdjWzpJLHte2chljoovvYdg1P8yqPdHYbCdiiDN-YZT9B3A_/s1600-h/grebe+resting-getting+warm-small.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273233975924245858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 285px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrw7cLcAPT8HaoSTDDu3TNA1UGfVatdiyjQWXo8lTE4aW_EfnvJtpyXm87hRFiZPHwLcurnF11f5MXDzInxPp86yuiGLr1XdjWzpJLHte2chljoovvYdg1P8yqPdHYbCdiiDN-YZT9B3A_/s400/grebe+resting-getting+warm-small.jpg" border="0" /></a> The first thing you need to do is provide a donut-like cushion for them to sit upon in the box, and then get them as warm as possible. Here, the little guy is sleeping under our bathroom ceiling heat lamp. Later, I rendezvoused with a volunteer from Wildlife Care of Ventura, and made the hand-off. The little guy (or girl?) is still doing okay.</div><p>I will post again when I receive an update on both the grebes I rescued in the last week.</p><p>Again, here is the website for Wildlife Care of Ventura: <a href="http://www.wildlifecareofventura.org/">http://www.wildlifecareofventura.org/</a></p>coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8085931676331891959.post-76464160460133609932008-11-24T18:13:00.000-08:002008-11-24T18:29:26.936-08:00Rescuing grebes in Port HuenemeI've rescued two grebes (water birds) in the last week. One is still sitting under a heat lamp in the master bathroom. He will later be transported to Santa Barbara, where he will be under the care of a volunteer from "Wildlife Care of Ventura County." They will work to bring the little guy back to health. The first grebe I rescued survived, and is doing much better.<br /><br />Visit <a href="http://www.wildlifecareofventura.org/">http://www.wildlifecareofventura.org/</a> for contact information.<br /><br />Here's a link to an article from February 2008 which gives you good information about how to capture grebes safely (for you and them), and how to care for the grebes in the interim, while you wait for the wildlife rescue helper:<br /><a href="http://malibusurfsidenews.com/blog/2008/02/rescuer-says-latest-oiled-sea-bird.html">Malibu Surfside News: Rescuer Says Latest Oiled Sea Bird Event Points Out Shortcomings</a>coyotescribehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15667789636827724944noreply@blogger.com0