Southern California deserts Feb 9-25 '06
Early February was a good time to drive down US 101 from San Jose to the greater Los Angeles area. The hills were green and lush, not the dry brown that summer heat brings on. Fields were newly plowed and planted by workers as thankful as I that the sun was just pleasingly warm. Birds were twittering at the rest stops. Not much traffic on a Thursday afternoon. All in all, good timing for a trip.
I had two main reasons to make this trip. To begin with, I got hooked on traveling last year. Second, I knew I’d be going to Wisconsin in March to be with my mother while she had surgery, and wanted to go someplace warm before heading to snow country. What better than a desert adventure in southern California? The first bookend for this trip was a visit to brother-in-law Gus, wife Chris, their son Conall and wife Theresa and daughter Chloe, in Hermosa Beach within eyesight of the Pacific Ocean (if you’re on the second story of a house on a hill and have binoculars, all of which they have). We ate at a Mexican restaurant and played Mexican Train dominoes. Chloe and Gus, he with the Ph.D., drew and colored pictures together.
The bookend at the end was a visit with my sister Marsha and her husband Terry, who live near the LA airport in a neighborhood whose streets have aviation-related names: Kittyhawk, Earhart, Bleriot etc. I looked forward to a game of Scrabble and breakfast at a nearby neighborhood café, both of which I got. The bonus was noticing the woman dining solo next to us who wore a cap with the word “writer” on the front and was journaling. We chatted a bit, and if I could remember the name of the book she was working on, I’d tell you. It’s a personal growth book about loving yourself first, and she already had an agent in New York.
Below: Marsha’s cat Charlie. The moustache is real.
I’ll start with the bad stuff first. I hit LA traffic during the Friday rush hour. I am petrified of driving in big city traffic anyway, so at first I was exceedingly tense. But I soon got over it. How much damage could occur if I was involved in a collision at 8 miles an hour? Next, on my second day camping in Anza Borrego Desert State Park, a fierce, cold windstorm came up. It was unpleasant enough that my camping companion, Karen, who lives a few hours away, hightailed it home. I chose to head north to a motel and a tire store. Sand had stuck to Catherine the Grape’s tires and dramatically accented an odd wear pattern on the rear tires. (I had meant to check them before leaving, honest.)
That’s the end of the bad stuff. Oh, except that later in Joshua Tree National Park, I had put up my shade canopy as a place-marker at a campsite and the tail end of that darn windstorm blew it down and broke some of the poles. But I want to get back to the tire story. The need for tires led me to Indio, where I met a friendly, helpful Big O tire store manager, had a really good Motel 6 experience, found a Food 4 Less with Mexican food in their deli, free computer use at the library, and a yummy date shake at Shield’s Date Farm.
I did not anticipate having a good time in Indio; it was just the closest city large enough to have a national brand tire store. But I eased into it beginning with the guy at Big O, who cautioned me about staying in any nearby motel except Motel 6. It seems the others, although cheaper, are hooker havens. Motel 6 had no non-smoking rooms left, except a handicapped-accessible room, so the manager put me in it and there were grab bars all over that bathroom. The wind subsided overnight and I did laundry before leaving. Motels with guest laundry rooms are 5-Star in my book!
Joshua Tree Nat’l Park
It took me 64 years to get to Joshua Tree National Park the first time (March 2005), and less than a year to return. And it wasn’t even peak wildflower season the second time. Yes, Joshua Tree is that much of a draw at any time – except when it’s 110 degrees in the summer. I was drawn by the varied scenery and reasonably-priced camping, i.e., $2.50 a night (that’s half-price with my Golden Geezer park pass). Three days and nights in Joshua Tree gave me the opportunity to try a few more hiking trails and test the new shoes I had just purchased with the hope that they’d be better for my plantar fasciitis problem. They were. Spira should hire me to do testimonials. The shoes have heavy coiled metal springs in the soles just under the heels and balls of the feet, but they’re enclosed, not exposed like the strange-looking Z-Coil shoes. Spiras also cost much less, between $95 and $135, compared to around $200 for the Z-Coils. By my third day in Joshua Tree I was able to hike three miles round trip to a hidden palm oasis. I ignored the sight of a father making the trip carrying his daughter on his shoulders, and the runners who passed me up. Hiking three miles with no pain afterwards was as major a triumph for me as if I had completed the Boston Marathon – and the scenery was far superior where I was.
In case you haven’t seen Joshua trees, here they are (named for the prophet Joshua who supposedly prayed with his hands held up to the sky).
If you have problems with sore feet, google Spira shoes (I found them googling spring shoes, expecting to find pastel colored pumps). If you go to Joshua Tree and are not 62 years old or older, expect to pay $15 to get in, and $5 to $8 for a shower (no senior discount) in the nearby towns of Joshua Tree or Yucca Valley, as the park has no shower facilities. Heck, there’s not even water at most of the campgrounds. In the spring, expect crowds looking for desert flowers. Recommended stops: the murals on the sides of buildings in downtown Twentynine Palms, the California Visitor Center in Yucca Valley for brochures and information about the area, and two special restaurants in Yucca Valley. Hutchins Harley Davidson Diner is a retro ‘50s diner in front of a Harley Davidson retail store with some museum-quality displays. The C & S Coffee Shop is not just retro, it’s real, with low prices and big servings to boot. My small orange juice was served in a 12-ounce plastic glass, and the pancakes touched the rim of the plate.
Real estate publications will cause Californians to drool over the low (for California) prices – in the $100s, $200s and $300s (that’s thousands). If you’re tempted, just remember the summer heat there.
Below: odd rock landscape in Joshua Tree Nat’l Park
Anza Borrego – a Better Deal
If you’re looking for a really low-cost desert experience, head for Anza Borrego Desert State Park instead. It also has varied scenery and, in fact, more palm oases. The $6 day-use fee is collected only at Borrego Palm Canyon, Tamarisk Grove and the Vern Whittaker Horse Camp, but it’s not necessary to go there. The park has 600,000 acres to wander around in, with elevations ranging from near sea level to 6,000 feet. The campgrounds with showers cost more than at Joshua Tree (no showers there, remember?), but free camping is available at 8 waterless campgrounds, or you can camp just about anywhere you can go safely off-road. Just be self-contained when it comes to trash and toilet, and of course water. Speaking of water, my favorite place to shower was Agua Caliente Regional Park, on the map as Agua Caliente Hot Springs. $5 got me all the hot springs soaking I could stand, in both an indoor chlorine-scented pool and a slightly cooler, less smelly outdoor pool. I could have camped there for $14 a night and soaked for free, but I had already staked my claim at nearby Mountain Palm Springs Campground (free) which had at least four palm oases to hike to.
Anza Borrego was a repeat visit for me, but I had always camped at Yaqui Wells before and hiked nearby. This time I tried a few other campgrounds, as well as 10-1/2 of the 25 hikes listed in the free visitors guide. Besides palm trees, I saw Native American pictographs and grinding holes,
views of valleys from above,
earthquake faults, metamorphic rocks 450 million years old, and the last standing elephant tree on the Elephant Tree Discovery Trail.
No more fierce wind, just gentle thermals overhead where red-tailed hawks enjoyed “wind-surfing.”
Bird Life at Big Morongo and the Salton Sea
Speaking of birds, I decided to check out a few wildlife refuges with binoculars in hand. These were the 10 x 50 binos that worked so well in Costa Rica. I visited the Big Morongo Canyon Preserve about 20 miles north of Palm Springs, and the Sonny Bono Salton Sea National Wildlife Refuge. I found Big Morongo Preserve absolutely charming, and would return again on a warmer (but not too hot) day, with the hopes of getting in on a guided walk. I picked up a bird checklist, but most of the birds must have been hiding. However, other hikers recommended the canyon trail, where I saw more flowers than anywhere else on this trip. (Remember, it was February.)
The website www.desertusa.com describes the history of the Salton Sea so well, I’ll just copy it for your edification* instead of trying to paraphrase:
“The Salton Sea was formed between 1905 and 1907 when the Colorado River burst through poorly built irrigation controls south of Yuma, Arizona. Almost the entire flow of the river filled the Salton Basin for more than a year, inundating communities, farms and the main line of the Southern Pacific Railroad.
Continued filling of the Salton Sink was finally stopped in 1907, when a line of protective levees was built by boxcars dumping boulders into the breach from Southern Pacific tracks. By then, this inland lake was about 40 miles long and 13 miles wide, covering an area of about 400 square miles.”
* I checked “edification” and it means “uplifting enlightenment,” which I never found at the Salton Sea. I gave it a try, really I did. In fact, I drove all around the Salton Sea, but never did figure out what its attraction is. A few “cities” on the west side look like ghost towns, although it’s obvious people live in some of the houses and mobile homes. Some folks have built shade structures over their entire mobile home. State-operated campgrounds on the east side have showers and are reasonably priced, but I couldn’t get away from the rotten odor of the sea. It has no outlet, and acts as an agricultural sump, or drainage ditch for the runoff of nearby agricultural land. To be fair, the wildlife refuge on the south end seemed to be odor-free and was a tranquil, uncrowded area to see many different birds, mostly waterfowl. This attempt at being a bird-watcher inspired me to write a short essay, which seems a fitting end to this newsletter.
I think I’m becoming a birder. It snuck up on me unexpectedly when I took a Study Abroad trip to Costa Rica recently. The birds there are amazing – mostly big, colorful, and cooperative. Even the little hummingbirds hold still a lot longer than their U.S. cousins. Of course, our tour guides found and identified the birds for us, so all we had to do was watch. Being able to get birds in focus in my binoculars and knowing what they were was thrilling, for I had tried birdwatching before and failed.
A year ago, I retired and started visiting national parks and other areas attractive to numerous birds. I thought I came prepared to birdwatch with some cute little discount store binoculars and The Sibley Guide to Birds. But those darn little birds wouldn’t sit still long enough for me to get them in focus in the binos (that’s birder slang), much less find out what they were even with Sibley’s help. I finally gave up and took to just sitting and enjoying their early morning chirps while I drank my tea and watched the day begin. That big rising sun is a lot easier to see and more reliable than hyperactive bunches of feathers.
My Costa Rica experience gave me some hope, though, and a better idea about how to watch birds. A night-sky-gazing friend who owns both binoculars and telescopes recommended 10 x 50 binoculars with long eye relief. The latter feature allows those of us with eyeglasses to keep them on while using binos. I don’t know what 10 x 50 means, but they sure magnify things well. I was also encouraged when I recognized some of the birds in Costa Rica as species I’d seen in California. The egrets and herons looked familiar, even though I couldn’t remember which was which, and a hummingbird always looks like a hummingbird no matter where it hums.
Empowered by my brief success, when I returned to the states I dug out the bird book and took it, those super 10 x 50 binoculars, and a folding chair on a trip to some Southern California deserts. The chair is not because I’m lazy or decrepit. The chair is because the best way to get close to birds is to sit still and attempt to blend in with the scenery, and let birds come to you. Trust me, it’s futile to try sneaking up on them.
For a few days in Anza Borrego Desert State Park and Joshua Tree National Park, I was reasonably successful at identifying a few birds. Maybe it was because there were only a few kinds, and a lot of each. Repetition helps. So did displays at the Joshua Tree Visitors Center where I learned that the fat little birds that congregate under bushes are cactus wrens, and the shiny black birds with punk hairdos – Mohawk-like tufts on the tops of their heads – are phainopepla. Ravens and roadrunners I already knew, as well as the mallards, both male and female, that were visiting a reservoir by a dam in the park.
One afternoon a beautiful iridescent green hummingbird with a bright red throat stayed in sight long enough for me to get a good look and I thought, “Ah ha! A ruby-throated hummingbird!” But when I looked it up, I learned that ruby-throated hummingbirds are easterners, and I never did find a photo of anything similar to what I saw. It sure was pretty, though.
These brief but successful encounters spurred me on to try a real wildlife refuge, specifically, the Sonny Bono Salton Sea National Wildlife Refuge. I did not make that up, but someone did, and it passed through Congress. People flock there hoping to see the fabled blue-footed booby. (Not making that up either.) The brochure promised elevated viewing stations to watch migratory waterfowl. I polished up the binoculars and headed further south.
Boy, did I see birds – hundreds, maybe even thousands of them. I saw three or four kinds of white birds, some black birds with a little white on their stubby tails, black and white birds with long legs, a bunch of little gray birds, one big gray bird, and some that flew so fast I wasn’t sure what color they were. I overheard some real birdwatchers saying “There’s two coots in with those gulls,” so I know I saw coots and gulls, too. I’m also pretty sure I saw a rare new species. At least I couldn’t find any pictures that looked like the reddish brown duck-like thing I saw.
As you have probably noticed, I’m not too stressed if I can’t identify something. At my age, I really don’t care if I don’t know what I’m seeing. Birds are interesting even without knowing their English or Latin names. I’m satisfied with learning slowly, picking up information from little illustrated brochures and visitor center displays and from other people with hundreds of birds on their life lists. I’m perfectly content to just sit in my chair, listen to the twitters and caws, and watch them peck or sip or bob in the water like teapots.
On the last day of my desert adventure, I saw ten big hawks circling gracefully over a palm oasis. They seemed to glide effortlessly in the gentle breeze. Watching them from my perch on a boulder, I thought about what I’d learned on my bird-watching ventures, and realized I accidentally learned awareness and patience, and how peaceful it can be sharing quality time with my new feathered friends.
Cactus wren in Joshua Tree National Park
Unidentified bird in tree at Anza Borrego Desert State Park
Unknown black and white birds at Sonny Bono Salton Sea National Wildlife Refuge
I had two main reasons to make this trip. To begin with, I got hooked on traveling last year. Second, I knew I’d be going to Wisconsin in March to be with my mother while she had surgery, and wanted to go someplace warm before heading to snow country. What better than a desert adventure in southern California? The first bookend for this trip was a visit to brother-in-law Gus, wife Chris, their son Conall and wife Theresa and daughter Chloe, in Hermosa Beach within eyesight of the Pacific Ocean (if you’re on the second story of a house on a hill and have binoculars, all of which they have). We ate at a Mexican restaurant and played Mexican Train dominoes. Chloe and Gus, he with the Ph.D., drew and colored pictures together.
The bookend at the end was a visit with my sister Marsha and her husband Terry, who live near the LA airport in a neighborhood whose streets have aviation-related names: Kittyhawk, Earhart, Bleriot etc. I looked forward to a game of Scrabble and breakfast at a nearby neighborhood café, both of which I got. The bonus was noticing the woman dining solo next to us who wore a cap with the word “writer” on the front and was journaling. We chatted a bit, and if I could remember the name of the book she was working on, I’d tell you. It’s a personal growth book about loving yourself first, and she already had an agent in New York.
Below: Marsha’s cat Charlie. The moustache is real.
I’ll start with the bad stuff first. I hit LA traffic during the Friday rush hour. I am petrified of driving in big city traffic anyway, so at first I was exceedingly tense. But I soon got over it. How much damage could occur if I was involved in a collision at 8 miles an hour? Next, on my second day camping in Anza Borrego Desert State Park, a fierce, cold windstorm came up. It was unpleasant enough that my camping companion, Karen, who lives a few hours away, hightailed it home. I chose to head north to a motel and a tire store. Sand had stuck to Catherine the Grape’s tires and dramatically accented an odd wear pattern on the rear tires. (I had meant to check them before leaving, honest.)
That’s the end of the bad stuff. Oh, except that later in Joshua Tree National Park, I had put up my shade canopy as a place-marker at a campsite and the tail end of that darn windstorm blew it down and broke some of the poles. But I want to get back to the tire story. The need for tires led me to Indio, where I met a friendly, helpful Big O tire store manager, had a really good Motel 6 experience, found a Food 4 Less with Mexican food in their deli, free computer use at the library, and a yummy date shake at Shield’s Date Farm.
I did not anticipate having a good time in Indio; it was just the closest city large enough to have a national brand tire store. But I eased into it beginning with the guy at Big O, who cautioned me about staying in any nearby motel except Motel 6. It seems the others, although cheaper, are hooker havens. Motel 6 had no non-smoking rooms left, except a handicapped-accessible room, so the manager put me in it and there were grab bars all over that bathroom. The wind subsided overnight and I did laundry before leaving. Motels with guest laundry rooms are 5-Star in my book!
Joshua Tree Nat’l Park
It took me 64 years to get to Joshua Tree National Park the first time (March 2005), and less than a year to return. And it wasn’t even peak wildflower season the second time. Yes, Joshua Tree is that much of a draw at any time – except when it’s 110 degrees in the summer. I was drawn by the varied scenery and reasonably-priced camping, i.e., $2.50 a night (that’s half-price with my Golden Geezer park pass). Three days and nights in Joshua Tree gave me the opportunity to try a few more hiking trails and test the new shoes I had just purchased with the hope that they’d be better for my plantar fasciitis problem. They were. Spira should hire me to do testimonials. The shoes have heavy coiled metal springs in the soles just under the heels and balls of the feet, but they’re enclosed, not exposed like the strange-looking Z-Coil shoes. Spiras also cost much less, between $95 and $135, compared to around $200 for the Z-Coils. By my third day in Joshua Tree I was able to hike three miles round trip to a hidden palm oasis. I ignored the sight of a father making the trip carrying his daughter on his shoulders, and the runners who passed me up. Hiking three miles with no pain afterwards was as major a triumph for me as if I had completed the Boston Marathon – and the scenery was far superior where I was.
In case you haven’t seen Joshua trees, here they are (named for the prophet Joshua who supposedly prayed with his hands held up to the sky).
If you have problems with sore feet, google Spira shoes (I found them googling spring shoes, expecting to find pastel colored pumps). If you go to Joshua Tree and are not 62 years old or older, expect to pay $15 to get in, and $5 to $8 for a shower (no senior discount) in the nearby towns of Joshua Tree or Yucca Valley, as the park has no shower facilities. Heck, there’s not even water at most of the campgrounds. In the spring, expect crowds looking for desert flowers. Recommended stops: the murals on the sides of buildings in downtown Twentynine Palms, the California Visitor Center in Yucca Valley for brochures and information about the area, and two special restaurants in Yucca Valley. Hutchins Harley Davidson Diner is a retro ‘50s diner in front of a Harley Davidson retail store with some museum-quality displays. The C & S Coffee Shop is not just retro, it’s real, with low prices and big servings to boot. My small orange juice was served in a 12-ounce plastic glass, and the pancakes touched the rim of the plate.
Real estate publications will cause Californians to drool over the low (for California) prices – in the $100s, $200s and $300s (that’s thousands). If you’re tempted, just remember the summer heat there.
Below: odd rock landscape in Joshua Tree Nat’l Park
Anza Borrego – a Better Deal
If you’re looking for a really low-cost desert experience, head for Anza Borrego Desert State Park instead. It also has varied scenery and, in fact, more palm oases. The $6 day-use fee is collected only at Borrego Palm Canyon, Tamarisk Grove and the Vern Whittaker Horse Camp, but it’s not necessary to go there. The park has 600,000 acres to wander around in, with elevations ranging from near sea level to 6,000 feet. The campgrounds with showers cost more than at Joshua Tree (no showers there, remember?), but free camping is available at 8 waterless campgrounds, or you can camp just about anywhere you can go safely off-road. Just be self-contained when it comes to trash and toilet, and of course water. Speaking of water, my favorite place to shower was Agua Caliente Regional Park, on the map as Agua Caliente Hot Springs. $5 got me all the hot springs soaking I could stand, in both an indoor chlorine-scented pool and a slightly cooler, less smelly outdoor pool. I could have camped there for $14 a night and soaked for free, but I had already staked my claim at nearby Mountain Palm Springs Campground (free) which had at least four palm oases to hike to.
Anza Borrego was a repeat visit for me, but I had always camped at Yaqui Wells before and hiked nearby. This time I tried a few other campgrounds, as well as 10-1/2 of the 25 hikes listed in the free visitors guide. Besides palm trees, I saw Native American pictographs and grinding holes,
views of valleys from above,
earthquake faults, metamorphic rocks 450 million years old, and the last standing elephant tree on the Elephant Tree Discovery Trail.
No more fierce wind, just gentle thermals overhead where red-tailed hawks enjoyed “wind-surfing.”
Bird Life at Big Morongo and the Salton Sea
Speaking of birds, I decided to check out a few wildlife refuges with binoculars in hand. These were the 10 x 50 binos that worked so well in Costa Rica. I visited the Big Morongo Canyon Preserve about 20 miles north of Palm Springs, and the Sonny Bono Salton Sea National Wildlife Refuge. I found Big Morongo Preserve absolutely charming, and would return again on a warmer (but not too hot) day, with the hopes of getting in on a guided walk. I picked up a bird checklist, but most of the birds must have been hiding. However, other hikers recommended the canyon trail, where I saw more flowers than anywhere else on this trip. (Remember, it was February.)
The website www.desertusa.com describes the history of the Salton Sea so well, I’ll just copy it for your edification* instead of trying to paraphrase:
“The Salton Sea was formed between 1905 and 1907 when the Colorado River burst through poorly built irrigation controls south of Yuma, Arizona. Almost the entire flow of the river filled the Salton Basin for more than a year, inundating communities, farms and the main line of the Southern Pacific Railroad.
Continued filling of the Salton Sink was finally stopped in 1907, when a line of protective levees was built by boxcars dumping boulders into the breach from Southern Pacific tracks. By then, this inland lake was about 40 miles long and 13 miles wide, covering an area of about 400 square miles.”
* I checked “edification” and it means “uplifting enlightenment,” which I never found at the Salton Sea. I gave it a try, really I did. In fact, I drove all around the Salton Sea, but never did figure out what its attraction is. A few “cities” on the west side look like ghost towns, although it’s obvious people live in some of the houses and mobile homes. Some folks have built shade structures over their entire mobile home. State-operated campgrounds on the east side have showers and are reasonably priced, but I couldn’t get away from the rotten odor of the sea. It has no outlet, and acts as an agricultural sump, or drainage ditch for the runoff of nearby agricultural land. To be fair, the wildlife refuge on the south end seemed to be odor-free and was a tranquil, uncrowded area to see many different birds, mostly waterfowl. This attempt at being a bird-watcher inspired me to write a short essay, which seems a fitting end to this newsletter.
The Accidental Birder
I think I’m becoming a birder. It snuck up on me unexpectedly when I took a Study Abroad trip to Costa Rica recently. The birds there are amazing – mostly big, colorful, and cooperative. Even the little hummingbirds hold still a lot longer than their U.S. cousins. Of course, our tour guides found and identified the birds for us, so all we had to do was watch. Being able to get birds in focus in my binoculars and knowing what they were was thrilling, for I had tried birdwatching before and failed.
A year ago, I retired and started visiting national parks and other areas attractive to numerous birds. I thought I came prepared to birdwatch with some cute little discount store binoculars and The Sibley Guide to Birds. But those darn little birds wouldn’t sit still long enough for me to get them in focus in the binos (that’s birder slang), much less find out what they were even with Sibley’s help. I finally gave up and took to just sitting and enjoying their early morning chirps while I drank my tea and watched the day begin. That big rising sun is a lot easier to see and more reliable than hyperactive bunches of feathers.
My Costa Rica experience gave me some hope, though, and a better idea about how to watch birds. A night-sky-gazing friend who owns both binoculars and telescopes recommended 10 x 50 binoculars with long eye relief. The latter feature allows those of us with eyeglasses to keep them on while using binos. I don’t know what 10 x 50 means, but they sure magnify things well. I was also encouraged when I recognized some of the birds in Costa Rica as species I’d seen in California. The egrets and herons looked familiar, even though I couldn’t remember which was which, and a hummingbird always looks like a hummingbird no matter where it hums.
Empowered by my brief success, when I returned to the states I dug out the bird book and took it, those super 10 x 50 binoculars, and a folding chair on a trip to some Southern California deserts. The chair is not because I’m lazy or decrepit. The chair is because the best way to get close to birds is to sit still and attempt to blend in with the scenery, and let birds come to you. Trust me, it’s futile to try sneaking up on them.
For a few days in Anza Borrego Desert State Park and Joshua Tree National Park, I was reasonably successful at identifying a few birds. Maybe it was because there were only a few kinds, and a lot of each. Repetition helps. So did displays at the Joshua Tree Visitors Center where I learned that the fat little birds that congregate under bushes are cactus wrens, and the shiny black birds with punk hairdos – Mohawk-like tufts on the tops of their heads – are phainopepla. Ravens and roadrunners I already knew, as well as the mallards, both male and female, that were visiting a reservoir by a dam in the park.
One afternoon a beautiful iridescent green hummingbird with a bright red throat stayed in sight long enough for me to get a good look and I thought, “Ah ha! A ruby-throated hummingbird!” But when I looked it up, I learned that ruby-throated hummingbirds are easterners, and I never did find a photo of anything similar to what I saw. It sure was pretty, though.
These brief but successful encounters spurred me on to try a real wildlife refuge, specifically, the Sonny Bono Salton Sea National Wildlife Refuge. I did not make that up, but someone did, and it passed through Congress. People flock there hoping to see the fabled blue-footed booby. (Not making that up either.) The brochure promised elevated viewing stations to watch migratory waterfowl. I polished up the binoculars and headed further south.
Boy, did I see birds – hundreds, maybe even thousands of them. I saw three or four kinds of white birds, some black birds with a little white on their stubby tails, black and white birds with long legs, a bunch of little gray birds, one big gray bird, and some that flew so fast I wasn’t sure what color they were. I overheard some real birdwatchers saying “There’s two coots in with those gulls,” so I know I saw coots and gulls, too. I’m also pretty sure I saw a rare new species. At least I couldn’t find any pictures that looked like the reddish brown duck-like thing I saw.
As you have probably noticed, I’m not too stressed if I can’t identify something. At my age, I really don’t care if I don’t know what I’m seeing. Birds are interesting even without knowing their English or Latin names. I’m satisfied with learning slowly, picking up information from little illustrated brochures and visitor center displays and from other people with hundreds of birds on their life lists. I’m perfectly content to just sit in my chair, listen to the twitters and caws, and watch them peck or sip or bob in the water like teapots.
On the last day of my desert adventure, I saw ten big hawks circling gracefully over a palm oasis. They seemed to glide effortlessly in the gentle breeze. Watching them from my perch on a boulder, I thought about what I’d learned on my bird-watching ventures, and realized I accidentally learned awareness and patience, and how peaceful it can be sharing quality time with my new feathered friends.
Cactus wren in Joshua Tree National Park
Unidentified bird in tree at Anza Borrego Desert State Park
Unknown black and white birds at Sonny Bono Salton Sea National Wildlife Refuge
posted by Joan McCarthy at 8:13 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home