Skip to content

I don't remember what I expected from my first view of Death Valley. I knew it to contain the lowest elevation (Badwater Basin, 282 feet below sea level) in North America and that it was really hot in the summer, but beyond that I had no clue. [Aside: the marine biologist in me wondered which metric 'sea level' refers to, and decided that it was probably mean low low water] I certainly wasn't prepared for the spectacular geology, although in retrospect I shouldn't have been so surprised. We didn't see much in the way of wildflowers, for one reason that I didn't anticipate but which makes perfect sense: although Death Valley received enough winter rain to form a temporary lake in the valley, there hadn't been enough rain in the autumn to trigger a superbloom. That was fine by me, as I'd already seen many wildflowers on the trip and was happy to be fascinated by the geology.

The Road to Nowhere
2019-03-28
© Allison J. Gong

There are at least two small waterways in Death Valley National Park that are called Salt Creek. The first one we encountered was in the hills above the valley, and is a rare desert riparian area.

Salt Creek oasis in Death Valley National Park
2019-03-28
© Allison J. Gong

This Salt Creek is fed by several small natural springs and runoff from the scant winter rains. As you can imagine, this oasis is a vital necessity for wildlife. Animals as large as desert bighorn sheep and as small as quail depend on this water source, which may contain the only somewhat reliable drinking water for 15 square miles.

As I mentioned, for me, Death Valley ended up being all about geology. I knew the valley floor was where we would find the lowest elevation in North America: Badwater Basin, 282 feet (86 m) below sea level. And now I can say that I've seen it, but there isn't much to see except the line of other tourists hiking out across the salt flats to take photos of the sign. So as a must-see destination, Badwater was interesting but not compelling. We skipped it.

But the rocks! The hills surrounding the valley, especially those on the eastern side, are spectacular. My favorite area was a range of hills called Artists Palette, viewable from a gorgeous 1-way loop drive off of Highway 190. When I saw the name on the map I thought it must be a place either a location where painters found minerals they could use to make paint, or a scene they liked to paint. Fortunately we decided to take the detour that meanders through the formations, so we could get off the main road and just gawk. I had never seen anything like this scenery. I know enough geology to understand that minerals come in all sorts of colors, but had not seen them together like this in a natural state. My eye is always drawn to colors, and I couldn't stop goggling at the variety of umbers, ochres, greens, and pinks, all jumbled together like some giant's ice cream sundae.

Approaching Artists Palette in Death Valley
2019-03-28
© Allison J. Gong
Approaching Artists Palette in Death Valley
2019-03-28
© Allison J. Gong
Artists Palette in Death Valley
2019-03-28
© Allison J. Gong
Artists Palette in Death Valley
2019-03-28
© Allison J. Gong

Artists Palette in Death Valley
2019-03-28
© Allison J. Gong

It's impossible to capture the grandeur of this landscape in a photograph. You really have to see Artists Palette in person to appreciate the vibrant colors of these hills. If you ever go to Death Valley , take the time to drive this little loop. You won't regret it!

Across the valley to the west, are the Panamint mountains. Beyond them, the Owens Valley and the mighty Sierra Nevada!

The Panamint Range, Death Valley
2019-03-28
© Allison J. Gong

So those are the rocks. The fish were in the second Salt Creek that we encountered, about 20 miles north of the Artists Drive loop. This Salt Creek is one of the remnant small bodies of water left after Lake Manly dries up. Lake Manly is a temporary lake that occasionally forms in Badwater Basin after unusual heavy rains. Most of the time, though, Badwater Basin is dry except for some small creeks. Salt Creek generally flows from north to south down the valley and eventually disappears into the sand.

Salt Creek in Death Valley
2019-03-28
© Allison J. Gong

Salt Creek is inhabited by a little pupfish, Cyprinidon salinus salinus, that looks like and is about the size of a guppy. Well, maybe it's a little bigger than a guppy. Populations of pupfish inhabit several creeks scattered over the desert across California and Nevada. Over time they have evolved into 10 genetically distinct species and subspecies, each adapted to the nuances of its particular stream. Two of the 10 have gone extinct in historic times. The Salt Creek pupfish, C. salinus salinus, is endangered, due to the ephemeral nature and fragility of its environment.

Salt Creek pupfish (Cyprinidon salinus salinus) in Death Valley
2019-03-28
© Allison J. Gong

They are called 'pupfish' because they appear to be playing like puppies. Plus, they are very cute. But life as a fish in one of the driest places on the planet is a tough gig. Pupfish live short, intense lives, growing to adulthood and breeding in the span of a single year.

Salt Creek pupfish (Cyprinidon salinus salinus) in Death Valley


As you can see, the creek is hardly deep enough for these little fish to swim. Pupfish exhibit the sexual dimorphism common in fishes--females are rather drab and nondescript, while males are more colorful. The behavior that was described as playful, earning the fish the moniker 'pupfish', is really all about the business of living. Males are territorial, defending a spot against other males. When a female chooses to spawn with a male, she enters his territory. Then the two of them perform a short, wiggling dance, and spawn together.

From the perspective of an evolutionary biologist, the isolated pupfish populations are fascinating. Each waterway inhabited by pupfish is an independent 'island' in a very real sense of the word. The fish cannot migrate between streams, and thus populations evolve independently of each other. This is called allopatric speciation, from the Greek roots 'allo-' meaning 'other' and '-patry' meaning 'country'. Over time, each population becomes reproductively isolated from the others, so that even if Manly Lake were to become once again a permanent body of water, the fish from different streams would be unable to mate with each other.

Of all the things that manage to eke out a living in what is arguably one of the most inhospitable places in the world, these little fish are my favorite. Major props to them, for surviving where they do and making it look like fun!

Joshua Tree National Park gained a certain notoriety this past winter, when idiots went there during the federal government shutdown and trashed the place. The vandals chopped down the iconic Joshua trees (Yucca brevifolia), let their dogs run around unleashed, left litter scattered over the landscape, and carved new roads through the desert. I'd like to give most people the benefit of the doubt and assume that they didn't realize the damage they were doing to the park. However, it takes only a few bad apples to destroy a public resource for everybody, as we've all experienced at some point.

© DesertUSA

The very first thing I learned about Joshua Tree is that it has two distinct desert habitats. Hey, I'm a marine biologist, and the desert--any desert--is new territory for me. None of this landscape has been anywhere near the ocean for millions of years! Anyway, the eastern half of the park is Colorado Desert, which is similar to what we had seen at Anza-Borrego State Park. Many of the plants in this region were also familiar to us because we had seen them in Anza-Borrego, but for the most part were more abundant here in Joshua Tree.

For example, we saw many more bluebells (Phacelia campanularia) at Joshua Tree than in Anza-Borrego. The P. campanularia at Joshua Tree also looked healthier (more robust and vigorous, less spindly) than they did in Anza-Borrego. Perhaps the higher elevation of the Colorado Desert in Joshua Tree (approximately 914 meters, or 3000 feet) compared to Anza-Borrego (182 meters, or 597 feet) accounts for this observation.

Desert bluebells (Phacelia campanularia) at Joshua Tree National Park
2019-03-27
© Allison J. Gong

I really liked the Colorado Desert in Joshua Tree. Even though it was the same ecosystem as what we saw in Anza-Borrego, here the flowers seemed more colorful and striking. The yellows were a little brighter, and the pinks and blues a little deeper. The scenery was breathtaking everywhere I looked. I wish my photos could do justice to the beauty of the landscape.

Wildflowers at Joshua Tree National Park
2019-03-27
© Allison J. Gong

Aside from the desert bluebells, other flowers that we had seen at Anza-Borrego included the brittlebush (Encelia farinosa), which seems to be ubiquitous in the Colorado Desert. The Arizona lupine (Lupinus arizonicus) was also common in Joshua Tree; like the bluebells, these appeared to be more robust here than in Anza-Borrego.

There were new flowers, too. My favorite, which I didn't see a lot of, was this desert globemallow, Sphaeralcea ambigua:

Desert globemallow (Sphaeralcea ambigua) at Joshua Tree National Park
2019-03-27
© Allison J. Gong

Here's a close-up of the same plant. Look at that gorgeous orange color!

Desert mallow (Sphaeralcea ambigua) at Joshua Tree National Park
2019-03-27
© Allison J. Gong

Against the prevailing palette of yellows and purples, this orange really stood out and caught the eye. This plant is also called the apricot mallow, for obvious reasons.

Some other flowers that we saw:

Among all the colorful flowers in the overall landscape, there was this very subtle plant, easily overlooked by eyes accustomed to more brilliant blossoms.

Sand blazing star (Mentzelia involucrata) at Joshua Tree National Park
2019-03-27
© Allison J. Gong

Something that tickled my funny bone was the little chia plant, Salvia columbariae. It looks like a prickly purple pom-pom. Two days in the desert had taught me not to touch things if I didn't know what they were, but I had to know if these blossoms were as pokey as they looked. They weren't!

Chia (Salvia columbariae) at Joshua Tree National Park
2019-03-27
© Allison J. Gong

There are parasitic plants in the desert, too. The red branches in this bush are the desert mistletoe (Phoradendron californicum), a hemiparasite. It drains water and nutrients from its host plant but performs its own photosynthesis.

Desert mistletoe (Phoradendron californicum) at Joshua Tree National Park
2019-03-27
© Allison J. Gong

In Joshua Tree National Park there's an area called the Cholla Cactus Garden. Chollas are cactuses with cylindrical stems, rather than the flat stems of the beavertail or prickly pear cactuses. The most common one in the Colorado Desert (that we saw, at least) was the teddybear cholla, Cylindropuntia bigelovii. As the name implies, it's a cute, fluffy cactus, but it's definitely still a cactus.

Teddybear chollas (Cylindropuntia bigelovii) at Joshua Tree National Park
2019-03-27
© Allison J. Gong

Teddybear chollas (Cylindropuntia bigelovii) at Joshua Tree National Park
2019-03-27
© Allison J. Gong

The teddybear cactus blooms in May and June, so we didn't see any flowers. In addition to having the normal plant sex using flowers, these cactuses also reproduce clonally by dropping branches. The dropped pieces roll around and find a new place to attach and grow. Interestingly, this type of clonal replication, called budding, is common in many marine invertebrates!

Buds of teddybear cholla (Cylindropuntia bigelovii)
2019-03-27
© Allison J. Gong

Here's a newly detached bud from a teddybear cholla:

Bud of teddybear cholla (Cylindropuntia bigelovii)
2019-03-27
© Allison J. Gong

And here's a recently established, young plant:

Young teddybear cholla (Cylindropuntia bigelovii)
2019-03-27
© Allison J. Gong

Cute little cactus, isn't it?

The trees that give Joshua Tree National Park its name live in the higher and cooler western region of the park, known as the Mojave Desert. The Joshua trees (Yucca brevifolia) live singly or in clusters. In some ways, Y. brevifolia is the symbol of the Mojave Desert. They are also abundant in the higher elevations of the Tehachapi Mountains along Highway 58 between Bakersfield and the town of Mojave.

Joshua trees (Yucca brevifolia) in the Tehachapi Mountains
2017-03-24
© Allison J. Gong

In Joshua Tree National Park, said trees were blooming in late March.

Blooming Joshua tree (Yucca brevifolia) in Joshua Tree National Park
2019-03-27
© Allison J. Gong

I'll have more to say about reproduction in Joshua trees and some other desert plants in another post. This one is getting long, and we had more desert adventures to come.

Next stop: Death Valley

The first new-to-me visit on our spring break road trip was Anza-Borrego State Park in the southern California desert. We arrived late in the day on Monday and had just a brief chance to look around. On Tuesday we got up early and went for a hike, trying to avoid some of the midday heat. Fortunately there was a bit of a breeze, which helped with the heat but made flower picture-taking challenging.

Anza-Borrego is located in the Colorado Desert, which is a western subdivision of the Sonoran Desert. The Colorado is a low-altitude desert (most of the surrounding hills are only ~900 meters tall) and thus gets much hotter in the summer than deserts at higher elevations, and very rarely experiences a winter frost. Winter is the main rainy season and some regions also receive rain during a late-summer monsoon season.

After a rainy winter, the desert explodes into vibrant life:

Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

The color of the day at Anza-Borrego was yellow. More details on the yellow players in a bit.

Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

It had rained a few days prior to our visit, and there a stream was flowing through the desert.

Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

This running water would be a temporary situation, of course, but one that is of great help to the wildlife in the park. At the park visitor center I read that wildlife large and small come to drink from the shallow streams, and that if we were to see bighorn sheep approaching the water we should stay out of their way. Water is so scarce for these animals that any delay in getting to it, or any separation of individuals from their family unit could be very stressful. I didn't know whether or not we'd even see the sheep, since they are shy, but we got lucky!

Desert bighorn sheep (Ovis canadensis) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

Handsome fellow, isn't he? He was eating and didn't seem to mind us hikers as long as we stayed on the trail. Of course, there was an idiot who approached too close to get a better photo, and this ram wasn't happy about it. He withdrew away from us and then went about his business. Other sheep wandered through, too, to forage or drink from the stream. But this big guy gave me the best photo op.

A visit to the desert this spring, after all the rain we had over the winter, was all about the wildflowers. Most of them were new to me. One thing that struck me was that, instead of the carpets of color that we'd seen at Carrizo Plain or Antelope Valley, flowers at Anzo-Borrega were much more widely dispersed. Some species were very common and others I didn't see more than once or twice.

As I mentioned above, yellow was the predominant color at Anza-Borrego. There were several daisy-like flowers in both yellow and white, and some were very common. Fortunately for me, the visitor center had an easy-to-use pictorial guide of the most common wildflowers; using that, some wildflower field guides that we brought with us, and Calflora.org, I may have identified them all correctly. I'm sure that somebody will point out any identifications that I got wrong.

Brittlebush (Encelia farinosa)
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

One of the defining characteristics of E. farinosa is the way that the blossoms are raised up above the grayish-green foliage. It's a cool morphology, and makes the plant look very different when you see it from the side. Here's a shot that shows it:

Brittlebush (Encelia farinosa)
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

And brittlebush was very abundant!

Lots of brittlebush (Encelia farinosa) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

Another very abundant yellow flower was the very aptly named desert dandelion, Malacothrix glabrata. It looks like a typical dandelion, perhaps a more pale buttery color than usual, and when mature the blossoms have a small purplish red spot in the center.

Desert dandelion (Malacothrix glabrata) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong
Desert dandelion (Malacothrix glabrata) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

Our state flower, Eschscholzia californica, is typically a brilliant pure orange color, although sometimes the color can be more yellow. In Anza-Borrego I saw some plants whose foliage looked poppy-ish, but the blossoms didn't look quite right--a little too small to be California poppies and a color that was definitely yellow rather than orange. Turns out, though, that they were gold poppies (E. parishii)!

Gold poppies (Eschscholzia parishii) and one of the purple Phacelia species at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

And who can resist a plant called ghostflower? That palest of yellows, almost but not quite white, combined with the tiny dark speckles, makes the plant seem very quiet--indeed, almost spooky. Ghostflower is easily overlooked, compared to the vibrant yellows of brittlebush, poppies, and dandelions.

Desert ghostflower (Mohavea confertiflora) and gold poppy (Eschscholzia parishii) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

One of my favorite flower color combinations is yellow, white, and purple. Imagine how pleased I was to find it in the desert!

Desert dandelion (Malacothrix glabrata), desert chicory (Rafinesquia neomexicana) and a purple phacelia (Phacelia distans) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

The color purple was represented by two species of Phacelia, P. distans and P. campanularia. Phacelia distans was by far the most common in the floors of the valleys, and we saw P. campanularia at higher elevations.

This is Phacelia distans. Note the shape of the inflorescences, and how the blossoms are arranged.

Phacelia distans at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-02-36
© Allison J. Gong
Phacelia distans at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-02-36
© Allison J. Gong

And this is Phacelia campanularia, the desert bluebell:

Desert bluebell (Phacelia campanularia) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-02-36
© Allison J. Gong

These plants have the same blossom shape, but very different blossom arrangements and foliage morphology. Nifty, the differences between presumably closely related species, eh?

Another flower in the purple family was the desert sand verbena (Abronia villosa). It occurred in sandy soils, often in washes or dunes, similar to the sand verbena that I see on beaches along the coast.

Desert sand verbena (Abronia villosa) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

The pink color family was represented by the bright pink Bigelow's monkeyflower, Mimulus bigelovii. They were fun. The golden-orange throat is the diagnostic feature for this species.

Bigelow's monkeyflower (Mimulus bigelovii) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong
Bigelow's monkeyflower (Mimulus bigelovii) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

I didn't get very many good pictures of the white flowers. It always seemed to be especially windy when we saw them. Desert chicory (Rafinesquia neomexicana) is a white daisy-like flower.

Desert chicory (Rafinesquia neomexicana) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

This being the desert, much of the plant biomass was succulent in nature. The ocotillo were blooming, as were the teddybear cholla and other cactuses.

Ocotillo (Fouquieria splendens) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

Everything living in the desert survives only if it can take advantage of the minimal precipitation that falls every year. Cactuses must suck up as much water as they can during the wet season, and store it for use during the hot, dry summer. Barrel cactus (Ferocactus acanthodes) this spring are fat, like the barrels for which they are named, and full of water. Their bodies are pleated longitudinally, allowing them to swell up when water is available. Then, as their water stores are depleted during the summer, the pleats fold together and the body becomes more compact. The large saguaro cactuses in the Sonoran Desert do the same thing.

Blooming barrel cactus (Ferocactus acanthodes) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

A cactus whose blossom definitely belongs in the pink category is the beavertail cactus (Opuntia basilaria). I think it was early in the blooming season for them, as I never saw any plants with more than a few open flowers, but most of them had many buds developing.

Beavertail cactus (Opuntia basilaria) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

The chollas are cactuses in the genus Cylindropuntia, characterized by cylindrical stems. The teddybear cholla (C. bigelovii) was the one we saw at Anza-Borrego. It has dense spines that give it a fuzzy look but in reality form an impenetrable defense--it manages to say "I'm cute and fuzzy!" and "Don't touch me!" at the same time.

Teddybear cholla (Cylindropuntia bigelovii) at Anza-Borrego State Park
2019-03-26
© Allison J. Gong

The teddybear chollas were very abundant at Anza-Borrego. We continued to see them as we continued on our trip. Next stop, Joshua Tree!

1

We've had a good strong wet season this year, resulting in another wildflower superbloom. Over spring break we went to southern California to chase the flowers and, while we were at it, visit some places that I'd never been to. Our first stops were at familiar stomping grounds that we'd visited in 2017: Shell Creek Road, Carrizo Plain, and Antelope Valley. There were significantly more people at all of these places, compared to two years ago. Many of the well known sites for wildflowers have become very popular lately, and we tried to avoid the most crowded areas.

Location 1: Shell Creek Road

Just because I love the California oaks, here's one that is well festooned with lace lichen (Ramalina menziesii) and moss:

Coastal live oak (Quercus agrifolia)
2019-03-24
© Allison J. Gong

The sky was hazy that day, making for less than ideal picture-taking conditions. The wind certainly didn't help, as the flowers were moving constantly. This early in the bloom the predominant color was yellow: a soft, buttery yellow due to the tidy tips and a much more brilliant, retina-searing gold due to the goldfields.

Goldfields (Lasthenia californica)
2019-03-24
© Allison J. Gong

There was some relief from all the yellow, in patches of baby blue eyes.

Wildflowers along Shell Creek Road
2019-03-24
© Allison J. Gong
Baby blue eyes (Nemophila menziesii)
2019-03-24
© Allison J. Gong

Location 2: Carrizo Plain and Temblor Hills

Soda Lake Road, which runs through Carrizo Plain, was quite crowded. We stopped at the vista point and then headed off the beaten track onto some less-traveled dirt roads.

Still hazy, see?

Soda Lake, from vista point
2019-03-24
© Allison J. Gong

There was such glorious scenery all around!

2019-03-24
© Allison J. Gong
2019-03-24
© Allison J. Gong

To the northeast of Carrizo Plain lie the Temblor Range hills, on which the bloom was just beginning. We saw fiddlenecks and goldfields at lower elevations, and splotches of purple Phacelia and orange poppies higher on the hills.

Fiddlenecks (Amsinckia menziesii), goldfields (Lasthenia californica), and Phacelia ciliata
2019-03-24
© Allison J. Gong

Poppies weren't going very strongly yet, but were distinguishable as a faint orange wash on the hills:

Wildflowers on Temblor Hills
2019-03-24
© Allison J. Gong

We'd see plenty of poppies the next day!

Location 3: Antelope Valley

Antelope Valley was overrun with people, climbing up hillsides with their dogs and selfie sticks. Seems that selfies of people sitting in poppy fields is all the rage these days. We didn't bother even trying to get into the poppy preserve, as there were lots of flowers to be seen in the surrounding areas.

Owl's clover (Castilleja exserta) and California poppy (Eschscholzia californica)
2019-03-25
© Allison J. Gong
California poppies (Eschscholzia californica)
2019-03-25
© Allison J. Gong

Compared to what we saw at Antelope Valley in 2017, this year's bloom was different. This year the poppies were not as widely scattered as in 2017, but where they occurred they were extremely dense. Then again, this year we were early in the bloom, and by now it could be different.

Poppy field at Antelope Valley
2019-03-25
© Allison J. Gong

Next up: Anza-Borrego!

2

The United States entered World War II in December 1941, after the bombing of Pearl Harbor by the Japanese. With Japan now considered an enemy state, part of the U.S. response in 1942 was to order more than 110,000 people of Japanese ancestry living on the west coast and in Hawaii into forced interment in remote camps operated by the military. The internees were men, women, and children; immigrants and U.S.-born citizens. They were considered a risk to national security, and their removal from society was widely (but not universally) viewed as a justifiable precautionary measure.

Memorial in cemetery at Manzanar
2019-03-29
© Allison J. Gong

Executive Order 9066 was issued and signed by President Franklin D. Roosevelt in February 1942. This order authorized the Secretary of War to build and operate military installations where Japanese Americans, German Americans, and Italian Americans would be imprisoned for the duration of the war. The order doesn't specify which Americans would be interned, but uses the term 'alien enemies'; given that at the time the U.S. was at war with Japan, Germany, and Italy, it doesn't take much imagination to figure out who the intended prisoners would be. Interestingly, or perhaps not, only Americans of Japanese descent were interned in large camps. A total of about 14,000 people of German or Italian descent were interned.

Of the Japanese Americans interned, about 70% were U.S. citizens. Many more would have been, but for the fact that Japanese-born immigrants to the U.S. (Issei) were by law forbidden to take U.S. citizenship despite having no loyalty to Japan. Their American-born children (Nisei) were, of course, American citizens, eligible to be drafted into the military and fight for the country that had interned their families.

Women's latrine and mess hall of Block 14 at Manzanar
2019-03-29
© Allison J. Gong

Manzanar is one of the internment camps. Located in the eastern Sierra just off Highway 395 in the Owens Valley in southern California, it sits in a most glorious location. Even today it is hours away from any type of city, but definitely worth the drive to visit. I learned a lot at the visitor center, which is probably the best one I've ever been to. We were there for over three hours, learning about the lives of the people interned at Manzanar.

The camp was surrounded by a barbed wire fence. Eight guard towers (built, ironically, by Japanese craftsmen) were manned by military police. The fencing and most of the guard towers are gone now. At some point after the camp was dismantled, most of the buildings were removed to other locations. There isn't much remaining on the site, but what is there is crammed full of information and artifacts from the people who lived there.

Manzanar housed ~10,000 internees, most from California and Washington, plus civilian and military families. Internees were stuffed into 504 barracks organized into 36 blocks. Each block, home to 200-400 internees, contained 14 barracks, a mess hall, men's and women's latrines, and a laundry room. There were also school buildings, a Buddhist temple and a Buddhist church, housing for military and civilian residents (built of much better quality than the barracks for internees, with indoor plumbing, solid walls, and insulation). Within the barracks there was no privacy. Seven or eight people, who could be family members or complete strangers, lived in a 20-by-25 foot room, or 'apartment'. For each room, the government provided cots with straw mattresses, blankets, an oil stove for heat, and a single hanging light bulb. The restored exhibits in Block 14 are much better lit now than they were when people were interned here.

Apartment at Manzanar
2019-03-29
© Allison J. Gong

The internees would hang blankets or use personal belongings to contrive some semblance of privacy in a small room shared with strangers.

Apartment at Manzanar
2019-03-29
© Allison J. Gong

When internees began arriving at Manzanar, the barracks were built of wood covered with tar paper--no insulation or even sealant between the boards of the walls and floor. This construction was woefully inadequate for the frigid winters and blazing hot summers of the high desert, and provided no protection from the wind that blows year-round and the dust that it carries. Dust storms were very common, and internees would hunker down for the worst of the storm and then sweep out the dust. The barracks were eventually reinforced with real walls and some degree of insulation, but linoleum wasn't installed on the floors until late 1942.

The internees were very resourceful people who did a remarkable job of making an extremely unpleasant situation as bearable as possible. Many were craftsmen, and they built furniture from whatever they could get their hands on. Fruit packing crates provided lumber that was built into tables, chairs, and cabinets.

Apartment 'living room' at Manzanar
2019-03-29
© Allison J. Gong
Apartment 'bedroom' at Manzanar
2019-03-29
© Allison J. Gong

The lack of privacy extended to the most personal of daily activities. The women's latrine of Block 14 has been restored:

Toilets in women's latrine of Block 14 at Manzanar
2019-03-29
© Allison J. Gong

There's another bank of five toilets on the opposite side of the white partition. Imagine waiting in line with dozens of people, many suffering from diarrhea due to the unfamiliar diet and stress, for the chance to use a toilet with nine other strangers in such close proximity. This lack of privacy in latrines was cited by many residents as one of the greatest hardships of life at Manzanar.

Showers in women's latrine of Block 14 at Manzanar
2019-03-29
© Allison J. Gong

Internees ate all of their meals in the block mess hall. At first internees would venture from block to block searching for the best chef in the camp, but eventually the authorities cracked down on such wandering and forced internees to eat in their own block.

Meal prep began well before dawn and continued through the evening. Meal times were stringently scheduled throughout the day. Kitchen scraps were used to feed hogs, and an on-site chicken ranch provided eggs. Eventually chefs were provided with the materials to make tofu and miso, which were used to make more palatable meals for the internees. Mess halls also served as social areas and often hosted movies, dances, or meetings.

Interior of Block 14 mess hall at Manzanar
2019-03-29
© Allison J. Gong

Japanese craftsmanship is evident in the tools used by the chefs. Internees built this baker's table, and also the massive steaming basket on the industrial stove.

Baker's table in Block 14 mess hall at Manzanar
2019-03-29
© Allison J. Gong
Stove in Block 14 mess hall at Manzanar
2019-03-29
© Allison J. Gong

Exhibits at the Manzanar visitor center include recordings of internees recollecting their experiences in the camp. In many ways the internees tried and succeeded at making life as normal as possible. There were two schools, one for younger children and a high school. An on-site hospital was run by one of the woman internees who was a physician; she was extremely insistent on cleanliness throughout the camp and that all residents receive inoculations against disease. Couples were married and babies were born. Kids played the all-American games of baseball and basketball, even against other high schools that came to Manzanar. The Manzanar teams were never allowed to compete at other schools, though.

The internees at Manzanar must have been fully aware of the irony of their situation. They were prisoners of the U.S. government, their property and businesses seized, their rights stripped away. The worst of the indignities, in my opinion, was the loyalty questionnaire. Its purpose was, ostensibly, to determine who were the 'loyal' Japanese Americans who could be safely released from the camp to states in the interior of the country. Questions 27 and 28 were especially problematic. They were worded slightly differently for men and women, but the overall gist is the same.

Question 27: Are you willing to serve in the armed forces of the United States on combat duty, wherever ordered?

Question 28: Will you swear unqualified allegiance to the United States of America and faithfully defend the United States from any and all attacks by foreign and domestic forces, and forswear any form of allegiance or disobedience to the Japanese Emperor, or any other foreign government, power, or organization?

Question 27 was problematic because if a man answered 'yes', he could conceivably be drafted into duty and have to fight against his ancestral homeland, where he may still have family residing. Some men answered 'no' for this reason and were deemed disloyal as a result; they were segregated from their families and sent to even more strict camps.

Question 28 was problematic for more subtle and insidious reasons. Many Nisei (American-born children of Japanese immigrants) were insulted by the implication that they had any loyalty to Japan or the Japanese Emperor. For Issei, who were denied U.S. citizenship, a 'yes' answer could leave them without a country. Recognizing the difficulty for Issei, the WRA (War Relocation Authority) did revise Question 28 to read as follows: Will you swear to abide by the laws of the United States and to take no action which would in anyway interfere with the war effort of the United States?

As a native Californian, I feel I should have known more about Manzanar and the role it played in our country's history. The gathering and imprisonment of Japanese Americans for no reason other than their Japanese-ness was misguided and, as it turns out, unnecessary. None of the Japanese American internees at Manzanar were ever found to have committed any act of treason, sabotage, or disloyalty towards the United States. I see similar attitudes in recent attempts to close our borders and separate immigrant children from their parents, and fear that those in power who most need to learn the lessons of Manzanar will choose to remain ignorant. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I leave you with this image of the basketball court at Manzanar. Kids shooting hoops in the afternoon sun--how much more American can you get? But that fence. It gives me the creeps. What does this image say to you?


2

The Carmel is a lovely little river. It isn't very long, but in its course it has everything a river should have. It rises in the mountains, and tumbles down a while, runs through shallows, is dammed to make a lake, spills over the dam, crackles among round boulders, wanders lazily under sycamores, spills into pools where trout live, drops in against banks where crayfish live. In the winter it becomes a torrent, a mean little fierce river, and in the summer it is a place for children to wade in and for fishermen to wander in. . . . It's everything a river should be.

-- John Steinbeck, Cannery Row

Every Spring semester when I teach my Ecology class, I try to develop a new field trip activity, or modify an existing one. Some activities I'll probably always keep, either because they are really popular with the students or (more likely 'and') because I think they are good learning experiences, but I can also swap out some of the others if better options come along. There's also some fine-tuning that occurs along the way, as I tweak things to improve what I hope is already a good field trip. As much fun as it is to play outside instead of being stuck in a classroom, the point of the field trips is to learn something about ecology--a new habitat, current research in particular fields of study, challenges to restoration and conservation, and the like. Since citizen science has become the catch phrase du jour in the first fifth of the 21st century, I feel that it is important to give students opportunities to participate in some of the science activities available to the wider community.

The Carmel River
2019-03-15
© Allison J. Gong

All of which explains why the students and I made the hour-long trip down to a location called Garland Ranch, on the Carmel River. Back in the fall I heard of a new project starting up in Monterey County, to monitor water quality along the Carmel River. The project, called Watershed Guardians, is operated from the Pacific Grove Museum of Natural History. Its goal is to protect steelhead trout in the river by measuring parameters that indicate suitability for the various life history stages of the fish. Like many programs of its kind, Watershed Guardians also has a secondary goal of getting students as young as middle-schoolers out of the classroom and into the field to do some real science. The two goals converge quite nicely, as a big part of the learning experience for the students is developing an understanding ownership of their local river and watershed. Hopefully that sense of ownership evolves into one of responsibility and stewardship. And it is a well-known adage that one way to get adults to care about something is to get their kids to care about it first, so all of these citizen science programs directed at school-age children have the benefit of attracting the attention of people old enough to vote and direct policy decisions. Win-win-win!

Our guide for the day was Matt, who works at the PGMNH and led the teacher training session I attended last fall. He met us at Garland Ranch, where we divided the class into four groups. Matt had arrived with two pairs of backpacks, each pair consisting of one light and one dark. The light and dark backpacks contained equipment and kits for different suites of tests. Each group of students would start with one backpack, either light or dark, and then swap with a different group when finished. That way every group ran all of the tests: pH, temperature, turbidity, DO (dissolved oxygen), alkalinity, and salinity. Some of the tests were quite simple, and others were more complicated.

Team 4 conferring with Matt
2019-03-15
© Allison J. Gong

The four sampling sites at the Garland Ranch location were close together near the vehicle bridge. We've had a lot of rain this winter and the river has been running high. As a result a lot of the sand had been washed away, making the beach fairly steep and rather narrow. To make matters even more difficult, the poison oak has been extremely crafty--its bare sticks are everywhere, looking totally innocent, encroaching on trails and twined around trees. It took some attention to make sure I didn't brush up against any of it while moving up and down the beach.

Collecting a water sample
2019-03-15
© Allison J. Gong

Careful sampling requires teamwork!

The final step in the program is for the students to enter their data into the Watershed Guardians database. The whole point of the program is for these data to be shared publicly for all to use. It's important for students to see the activity through to the end and to know that the work they did will actually be going somewhere. We'll take care of that task next week!


Coastal live oak (Quercus agrifolia) at Fort Ord National Monument
2019-03-08
© Allison J. Gong

The other day my students and I lucked out with the weather and managed to get in a full day of exploring a former military base. Fort Ord, on Monterey Bay near the small city of Marina, was an Army base until it was closed in 1994. Since then, most of the land (~14,600 acres) has been designated the Fort Ord National Monument, administered by the federal Bureau of Land Management. Smaller portions were transferred to the surrounding cities, the campus of CSU Monterey Bay, the state park system, and the University of California's Natural Reserve system. Our guide for the day, Joe, is the reserve manager for the Fort Ord Natural Reserve, and had arranged for us to meet with researchers working at both sites that we visited. It really was a fantastic learning opportunity for all of us.

The Fort Ord National Monument (FONM) came into being in 2012--thank you, President Obama! Most of the monument is public land, with miles of trails used to hikers, bicyclists, and horseback riders. The monument is also home to the California tiger salamander (Ambystoma californiense), the central California population of which is federally threatened. The first person we met on our field trip was a guy named Robert, who is a graduate researcher working on conservation of the tiger salamanders. Robert showed us some artificial vernal pools that he's using in his research.

Artificial vernal pools at Fort Ord National Monument
2019-03-08
© Allison J. Gong

The 18 pools are about 10 meters in diameter, lined with an impermeable layer, and were allowed to fill with natural rainwater. Robert's plan is to seed them with salamander larvae and record how they survive and disperse from the pools. There's a lot more to the story than that, but it's Robert's story to tell, not mine.

We did get to help Robert check the pitfall traps, which are arranged in pairs on each side of the fence surrounding each pool. Each trap is a small bucket set into the ground to be level with the surface. The lid is mounted on wooden legs and sits above the trap, to keep it from filling with water. Animals crawling along the fence will fall into the bucket. Robert collects data on the animals trapped and then releases them unharmed.

The tiger salamanders are all underground at this time of year so there were none in the traps. The students did, however, find a pair of western toads (Anaxyrus boreas) in one of the traps. They were in amplexus, which is what herpetologists call the mating position of frogs and toads: the male clasps the female around her body, ideally positioned to fertilize the female's eggs as she lays them.

Western toads (Anaxyrus boreas) at Fort Ord National Monument
2019-03-08
© Allison J. Gong

The pair of amorous toads were released into one of the ponds, where they swam off together, still in amplexus. Their offspring will be born into the pond as tadpoles, along with those of the chorus frogs, the red-legged frogs, and hopefully not too many bullfrogs. Incidentally, herpetologists use the term 'tadpole' to refer only to the larvae of frogs and toads; Robert calls the larvae of his study salamanders just 'larvae'.

We ventured over to the Fort Ord Natural Reserve (FONR), where we ate our lunch in a clearing surrounded by coast live oaks and coastal scrub. FONR is one of five natural reserves managed by UC Santa Cruz as an outdoor classroom and teaching lab. School groups ranging from elementary school to university levels visit FONR to learn about the natural environment, often for the very first time.

FONR sits on an ancient sand dune, and all of the vegetation has had to adapt to difficult growing conditions. The soil is almost entirely sand and doesn't hold water at all. The wind picks up just about every afternoon and blows in salt from the ocean; these winds can be quite fierce even without the salt. The sand itself gets blown around, making an unstable substrate. As a result, plants that would otherwise grow tall are stunted here. Take, for example, the coast live oak (Quercus agrifolia). In places that are more sheltered from the wind, they are tall and majestic, even as they continue their meandering growth form. At FONR they are much shorter and more closely resemble the other scrub plants than actual trees.

Coast live oak (Quercus agrifolia) and coastal scrub at Fort Ord Natural Reserve
2019-03-08
© Allison J. Gon
Horned lizard (Phyronosoma sp.) at FONR 2018-05-12
© Allison J. Gong

After lunch we heard from Dani, a UCSC undergraduate student studying horned lizards (Phrynosoma sp.). The lizards are very well adapted to this environment. They live in sand, and have flattened bodies so they can hide on top of the sand and become practically invisible. Like the tiger salamanders the horned lizards are underground now. They should emerge in the next couple of months. This is one that we saw last May, when Joe invited last year's class to visit the Reserve on a Saturday, after our planned field trip was cancelled due to rain.

Footsteps of spring
Sanicula arctopoides
2019-03-08
© Allison J. Gong

In early March the plants were starting to bloom. One of the earliest bloomers is this delightful plant called 'footsteps of spring'; its real name is Sanicula arctopoides. They look like small blotches of yellow spray paint against the ground. And when you see several of them scattered on the trail, you really understand their common name.

Students follow the footsteps of spring (Sanicula arctopoides)
2019-03-08
© Allison J. Gong

There were, of course, no horned lizards to be seen. We did, however, hike the reserve, and Joe showed us some of the endemic and/or endangered plants that live there. That's Joe, in the front of the group here:

Joe and students
Fort Ord Natural Reserve
2019-03-08

Our last stop at the end of the field trip was at a location where the Army used to work on fire suppression. They did this by dumping various flammable items and fuels on the ground, lighting them on fire, and putting them out. This activity resulted in groundwater and soil contamination, which Army contractors have been working to clean up for 20 years now. Currently the site is where Robert is raising his tiger salamander larvae in raised ponds; he will eventually release the larvae into the artificial pools that we saw earlier in the day.

Ponds for growing salamander larvae
2019-03-08
© Allison J. Gong

Each of those ponds is filled with natural rain water and contains a small screened tub into which Robert placed 10 salamander eggs. The larvae, after they hatch and have used up all of their yolk reserves, feed on whatever zooplankton have sprung up in the ponds--a quick glance showed that copepods, ostracods, and insect larvae had already taken up residence. The idea is that the salamander larvae will escape from their tubs into the pool at large, which will give them lots of room to grow up.

In a very real sense, this field trip ended where it started. Things don't always work out this nicely, and my Type A personality is pleased at both the symmetry and the closure. Because these field trips are necessarily snapshots of what is happening at a particular moment in a particular place, it can sometimes be difficult to connect them to the real world. This week, though, I feel that my students got the whole story, or at least the entire outline of it. This visit to FONM and FONR may very well be my favorite field trip of the class, because I learned so much about things that are new to me. Thank you, Joe, for arranging such an amazing day for us!

Over the long holiday weekend a little over a week ago we drove up the coast from Morro Bay back to Santa Cruz and stopped at Piedras Blancas to visit the elephant seals. At this time of year the breeding season is over and most of the seals have returned to sea. The adult females gave birth in late December or early January, were mated soon after, fasted for a month while they nursed a growing pup, and then abandoned said pup on the beach to resume the aquatic phase of their life. Same for the adult males, minus the birth and nursing part, of course. Oh, and most of the males didn't get to breed, either. Suffice it to say that the adult elephant seals have more or less abandoned the beach for now.

Elephant seals (Mirounga angustirostris) at Piedras Blancas
2019-02-17
© Allison J. Gong

Although there were still a lot of seals on the beach, much of the real estate was unoccupied. Contrast this to the same beach in November 2015, as the seals were starting to arrive for that breeding season:

Elephant seals (Mirounga angustirostris) at Piedras Blancas
2015-11-27
© Allison J. Gong

Elephant seal pups have a tough life. They are born in the dead of winter, on exposed coasts. While they are very young, one of the pups' greatest mortality risks is being run over and trampled to death by the adult males that are fighting for seniority and the right to mate with a harem of females. The moms do their best to fend off rampaging males, but the alphas are so much larger that they just run over anybody in their way. At this point in their life an elephant seal pup's main priority is to eat. They nurse almost constantly on milk that is about 50% fat. Pups are born wrinkled, with a lot of loose skin, but they soon fill out and take on the stereotypical look of fat sausages.

After four weeks of intensive nursing, a pup's life changes drastically. Its mother abandons it on the beach and returns to the sea to begin feeding again and restoring its much-depleted body stores. Remember, she has been nursing a pup and fasting for about a month and a half! Her pup is thus forcibly weaned, because she just leaves and doesn't come back. Researchers refer to these abandoned pups as weaners.

Pair of elephant seal (Mirounga angustirostris) weaners at Piedras Blancas
2019-02-17
© Allison J. Gong

Most of the seals on the beach in late February are weaners. They will stay on the beach for another two months or so. They have to wait until they molt from their soft baby coat into a more adult coat that will better insulate them in the cold water. And after they molt they have to learn how to swim. They'll make short forays into the surf and paddle around for a bit, learning how to maneuver their bodies in the water, and then return to land to rest. In the meantime they're not feeding. This is why it is crucial for them to pack on as much weight during the four weeks that they get to nurse. Attaining that 'sausage' look is directly related to a weaner's probability of a success launch into the ocean.

Pile of elephant seal (Mirounga angusirostris) weaners at Piedras Blancas
2019-02-17
© Allison J. Gong

But not everybody is a weaner. There are also some subadults on the beach. They, of course, swim perfectly well and can head back out to sea whenever they want. The subadults will also need to molt, but that doesn't happen until the early summer.

Subadult male elephant seal (Mirounga angustirostris) at Piedras Blancas
2019-02-17
© Allison J. Gong

Don't they have the dopiest faces?

Subadult male elephant seal (Mirounga angustirostris) at Piedras Blancas
2019-02-17
© Allison J. Gong

With the breeding season over, things will be quiet at the seal rookeries at Piedras Blancas and Año Nuevo. Both sites will get frantic again in December, when the adults return to land and the next reproductive cycle begins.

A week ago today, on Valentine's Day, I accompanied two students from the Natural History Club to Seacliff State Beach. Catie and Ryan, on behalf of the NHC, want to take charge of a now-empty glass display case at the visitor center and turn it into an exhibit of some sort. I became an official faculty sponsor of the NHC this semester. During the meeting as we were filling out the paperwork, I had to undergo an initiation rite: the club officers told me I had to present my 5 best bird calls. This is easy enough to do when I'm relaxed at home watching birds, but having to do it on the spot with no warning effectively drove everything I knew about birds right out of my head. Fortunately I was able to pull myself together and give them a California quail, a golden-crowned sparrow, a flicker, a chickadee, and an Anna's hummingbird. The easiest one, the acorn woodpecker ('waka-waka-waka') never even occurred to me.

A few months ago, Joseph, the head interpretive ranger at Seacliff, showed me the display case and asked if I knew of a group of students who would like to do something with it. I told him I'd ask the NHC if they'd be interested in taking on a project like this. It would be good outreach for the club and get their name and branding out into the greater community. Fortunately they jumped at the chance, and Catie and Ryan volunteered to come to Seacliff with me to meet Joseph and discuss his and their plans for the case.

Shortly after our arrival at the visitor center, a woman burst through the door and said, "We can't get out! A tree fell across the road!" And sure enough, a tree had indeed fallen across the road:

Fallen tree at Seacliff State Beach
2019-02-14
© Allison J. Gong

Catie, Ryan, and I figured it would be a while before the road was cleared and we could leave, so we might as well take a walk on the beach. It had been a very stormy week, with wind, heavy rain, and even snow in the area. Down at sea level we were fortunate to escape much of the really bad stuff, but the pounding rain and big swell had done some erosion damage to the shoreline and moved tons of sand down the coast, resulting in steep beaches. This is a normal phenomenon that happens during winter storms, but the extent of the sand removal was unusual even for winter.

For one thing, this structure was partially exposed:

Exposed structure on Seacliff State Beach
2019-02-14
© Allison J. Gong

We didn't know what this thing was. There were other parts of it poking out of the sand, too. When we got back to the visitor center Joseph told us that this object is part of the original seawall, dating to the 1920s. It was allowed to crumble into disrepair and be reclaimed by the beach, and only rarely ever sees the light of day.

We saw other interesting things on the beach, too. Dead birds are interesting, right? Of course they are!

Ryan examines the foot of a dead common murre (Uria aalge)
2019-02-14
© Allison J. Gong

The removal of so much sand from the beach bared a lot of rocks that had been buried underneath. Many of them were fossil rocks! Catie was pretty excited about them. And she certainly was right, because aren't these super cool?

Rock containing fossilized clams and snails, at Seacliff State Beach
2019-02-14
© Allison J. Gong

In addition to things long dead (fossils) and recently dead (murre), we found the results of recent spawning. The Pacific herring (Clupea pallasii) is a small schooling fish with a wide geographic distribution in the North Pacific. It had been an important fishery species but in the 1990s the fishery collapsed. Since then, with managed fishing, the species has been making a slow recovery.

Herring may spawn throughout the year, but the major spawning events occur at the beginning of the calendar year, when adults venture to shallow water in protected bays and estuaries. Females prefer to lay their eggs on eelgrass and other vegetation near the shore. According to The Lost Anchovy, the herring had been spawning in various locations in San Francisco Bay throughout January 2019.

Herring eggs
2019-02-14
© Allison J. Gong

We saw several clusters of what I think are herring eggs washed up on the beach at Seacliff. Some of the clusters were still wet, but without access to my dissecting scope I couldn't determine whether they were alive. Probably not. Herring eggs are heavily preyed on by birds, so in retrospect it was surprisingly to see so many that hadn't been eaten.

All in all it was a great afternoon for Catie, Ryan, and me. We hadn't planned on getting stuck behind a fallen tree, but if you're going to get stuck behind a fallen tree there are many worse places than a state park in California. None of us had to get back to campus at any particular time so we were free to meander as the fancy struck us. While we were at it we also did a mini beach clean-up, picking up as much trash as we could. That is always a depressing endeavor, but every piece picked up is one piece removed from the environment, and that can't be a bad thing. Some leavings were never meant to wind up on the beach.


Over the holiday weekend I was in Morro Bay for a surprise 80th birthday party--not mine! The party on Friday evening was a huge success (none of the guests let the cat out of the bag), the birthday girl was completely taken by surprise, and a good time was had by all. The weather was cold and sporadically stormy the entire weekend, but the clear spells between storm squalls were gorgeous and almost a little warm.

Since it wasn't raining on Saturday morning, we went out to Morro Rock to look for peregrine falcons. There are two (I think) pairs of falcons nesting on the Rock, one of which nests on the side of the rock that is visible to people. This is nesting season, and Morro Rock has a lot of ledges that make good nesting platforms. Peregrines don't make a nest, really. They lay eggs and incubate them on ledge high up on structures--rock cliffs, buildings, bridges--that dominate the landscape. We did see one peregrine way up on the rock, identifiable through binoculars but far enough away that I couldn't get a decent photo. This is the best I could do:

Peregrine falcon (Falco peregrinus) perched on ledge on Morro Rock
2019-02-16
© Allison J. Gong

So not much success with the falcons, although I could at least document that they were there. Turning away from the Rock I was able to watch a great blue heron (Ardea herodias) go after and catch and eat a juvenile rockfish! The photos tell the story, so I'll just post them.

The Chase:

Great blue heron (Ardea herodias) chasing after prey
2019-02-16
© Allison J. Gong

The Catch:

Great blue heron (Ardea herodias) with rockfish prey
2019-02-16
© Allison J. Gong
Great blue heron (Ardea herodias) with rockfish prey
2019-02-16
© Allison J. Gong
Great blue heron (Ardea herodias) with rockfish prey
2019-02-16
© Allison J. Gong
Great blue heron (Ardea herodias) with rockfish prey
2019-02-16
© Allison J. Gong
Great blue heron (Ardea herodias) with rockfish prey
2019-02-16
© Allison J. Gong
Great blue heron (Ardea herodias) with rockfish prey
2019-02-16
© Allison J. Gong

And finally, down the hatch it goes:

Great blue heron (Ardea herodias) swallowing rockfish prey
2019-02-16
© Allison J. Gong
Gulp!
2019-02-16
© Allison J. Gong

And there you have it! On a day when it was too blustery for human fishers to venture out of the bay, one avian predator had a successful morning. Way to go, bird!

%d bloggers like this: