Birthday Week

[Management regrets the month of September has flown by and Ms. Miller has scarcely blogged at all. An executive decision was made by management that Ms Miller will be chained to her desk until she back fills all of the posts she did not make for September. Following her tardy entries, we shall all pretend she posted in September on time on the appropriate days. Any protestations concerning Management's decision concerning the dishonesty of pretending September's posts were on time shall be met with immediate and deafening silence.]Another week , another damned birthday. It was a fun birthday, happily coinciding with my annual mini-break up Highway 101 with my friend Barbara. I've been bored, and Barbara's been in desperate need of a break from the ongoing dramas at her household – you do not want to know. So after picking up Barb at her Father’s house in Napa we were off north.

On the way we enjoyed the usual side trips, like this mini-jaunt near Klamath to visit one of the former Highway guards, a giant ce-ment California golden bear.

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The above bear and its matching mate are forced into retirement where they dwell on some land just off Highway 101 by the town of Klamath. They were replaced by rugged, young, shiner golden whippersnapper bears that now guard the bridge over the Klamath River.

Newer, Shinier Klamath Bridge Bear

Likewise, both myself and Barb are feeling like we could use some shiner brighter aspects to our lives and we chatted about such things for hours on the way north. We briefly stopped at Prairie Creek Redwoods where the wild elk roam.

Cruising the Giant Meadow at Prairie Creek Redwoods

Once in Crescent City we stayed our usual cute little spot on the beach. We took several walks along the beach combing; finding shiny new sand dollars and such.

I was walking along in the surf when Barb called me and ignoring her, I looked up, assuming she was pointing out to me the bird that swooped overhead - a Turkey Vulture. "Claire!" Barb shrieked urgently. "It's just a Turkey Vulture," I yelled back. "Not an Osprey."

"C-L-L-L-A-I-R-E", Barbara shrieked insistently.

"Wha....?" Finally I looked over. There, only a foot from Barbara, floated a Common Murre! The bird looked at Barb with a definite air of curiosity, as though sizing her up. I hot-footed it over and stood looking at the bird, assuming, as did Barb, that the tiny mite was in some sort of distress - perhaps a broken limb. I was already calculating how I was going to scoop it up, pinning down its wings when I heard, a clear voice, saying the bird was uninjured.

I was stunned - the critter was an accomplished telepath. I 'heard' the bird inform me that it was fine, and I should back off. I'm not nuts, it really relayed a message to me. Nope. I didn't make that up. If I'm lyin' I'm dyin'.

I was gob smacked. The surf retreated leaving the bird seated on the wet sand. It tilted its head to look up at me, mildly curious, utterly unperturbed - its little head was brown and as sleek as a seal. The surf returned, lifting up the bird and it began to paddle it's funny webbed feet. Sitting up on the water it flapped it's wings and headed back out to sea.

The following morning we found a dead Common Murre, its chest pecked open by gulls and my heart sank. But, we went on to find two more dead Murres as well. Barb insisted 'my' bird had died, but I know the cheeky little imp had was alive and well. Hell -why would it have lied to me?

It was a great week. We visited a true daughter of Crescent City, our friend Inez. We spent an afternoon touring Inez's beautiful garden and chatting.

Barbara and Inez

Two other drop-ins to Inez's Garden

The following day we went for Sunday Brunch at Patrick's Creek Inn. Afterwards Inez took us for a drive up to Oregon with a few stops along Smith River and Pacific Ocean.

Treking back uphill after beach combing for agates.

Barbara and I enjoyed our four days in Crescent City. On our drive back we stopped in Napa for a froo-froo lunch at a marvelously pretentious restaurant where, as Barbara pointed out to her Aunt Judy whom we visited, 'The usual were there - the older men lunching with their young girlfriends."

Tee hee. It's fun to be catty.


Lily pond at the Blox restaurant

1776

It's nice to know the founding fathers can still pack 'em in! Tonight I was surprised what a large audience assembled to see 1776. It was the last of the Music Circus productions for the season. It was interesting to realize the compromises haggled over to get the leaders of the 13 original States to shut the hell up, adopt a constitution & declare independence. These days our leaders are haggling over who did or did not adopt a 'wide stance' in an airport restroom. I'd love to see a musical about that.

While I was out, Jeannie et al. come by for a dip in the pool. I'm sorry I missed them but as hot as it's been I'm sure they'll be by again. We dodged the bullet as the summer has been relatively swelter free. Unfortunately the weather went 180 in the opposite direction and now the weather has gone Sierra Leon hot and there's now't for it but a dip in the pool.

[God grant us strength - Management will not cooperate with this thinly veiled charade. A dip in the pool? As if! Ms Miller has not set one fat toe in the pool in several years. Why? Is it not clean, cool and refreshing? Yes, as a matter of fact it is. Then why hasn't Ms Miller partaken of its cool waters for the occasional dip? Who the hell knows! If it were for the occasional dipping of friends the poor pool would go completely unused. Abominable situation and Management is at a loss to explain why. If anyone has any light to shed on the situation please inform us, because Management is effing clueless. ]

Vagrants are a Good Thing if You're a Birder

My weekend came down to one of two choices: behaving myself by ushering at the Music Circus on Saturday night, as I had said I would - or a going on a wild goose chase to the coast. Honestly - did the play even have a soap bubble's chance in gale force winds against the prospect of my seeing a new bird? Hell no.

The bird that got me to drive over to the coast was the Bar-tailed Godwit - yet another Siberian bird, not often seen in California. The bird was reported on Thursday last as being seen at Pescadero Marsh. Only last year in the very same spot where a Yellow-billed Loon was seen. I still ache when I think that I missed the Loon so I have no intention of missing out on any other vagrants that pop up if I can help it.

So, Saturday afternoon I drove over from Sacramento to Palo Alto where I picked up Don and we headed over to the coast. When we got to Pescadero Marsh we hoofed it over the white sands beneath the Pescadero Bridge & all at once I was so full of joy it was almost embarrassing. I kept thinking how incredibly lucky I am that such eesnie things like a cool breezy day and bright sunshine along with a chance of seeing some lost birdie have the power to make me so blasted happy.

The Bar-tailed Godwit did not jump up and say hello. No bother! We hiked around, taking time to enjoy the Red-necked Phalaropes in their fall outfits and the usual west coast Peeps - Least and Western Sandpipers.

Red-necked Phalarope, spinning like a top
Western Sandpipers - the little guy looks tired, doesn't he?
The weather, as I said, was so nice that I said it had been worth the drive for the scenery and the weather alone, and that if the Godwit showed up that would be a bonus. Don nodded politely, and unlike me, whose head was in the clouds, he continued scanning for the godwit.

Soon he was peering through the spotting scope, stunned at his discovery. Yep - he had spotted the Bar-tailed Godwit across the lagoon. YAHOO!

See the big lumpy, long leggedy splot in the
middle of the shoreline? That's the birdie!
Here is a close up of the Bar-tailed Godwit
Mind, the bird was so far off from us that my photos of it are less than stellar, but that's OK. A crap picture is better than none at all. The Godwit was not hanging out with our local California Marbled Godwits; perhaps he just prefered a bit of solitude. S

So the Bar-tailed Godwit is Don's forty something-ith lifer for this year, and my 14th. That's three good vagrants I've managed to see this year - the Smew, the Curlew Sandpiper and now this Bar-tailed Godwit. I'm on a roll folks! We continued birding and saw many other birds and one very dead, very smelly, Elephant Seal cow on the sea shore. *wheewww*, and we ended the day with a nice dinner over in the town of Princeton. Surf n' turf... yum.

The next morning we meandered over to a public park where Don knew there was a nice little Burrowing Owl. Isn't he cute? While we admired him a little French Family - a dad and his three young French sprouting progeny - stopped to have a look through Don's binoculars at Le petit hibou. What a great weekend.

Le Petite Hibou, which looks as sleepy as the Western
Sandpiper did. Don't these birds get enough sleep?