Cry, the Beloved Country

Well, there's that: we're not apartheid South Africa. At least not yet, anyway. Rough week!

An incomplete list of pro-women, pro-immigrant, pro-earth, anti-bigotry organizations that need our support. #vinewinesign

A photo posted by vinewinenyc (@vinewinenyc) on Nov 10, 2016 at 10:18am PST

Good suggestions. Here's Part Two:

And remember, local organizations need just as much (or more) help as established national ones. #vinewinesign

A photo posted by vinewinenyc (@vinewinenyc) on Nov 10, 2016 at 10:19am PST

These are suggestions from NYC. I expect there are many other worthy organizations, activist groups, artists, journalists — some local, some California-centric — that could use support: the local library is high on my list.

You might consider joining others in support of indigenous rights, our water, and our climate on November 15.

Feeling paranoid? (And perhaps you should be, all things considered...) This link is for you.

And this, from Chris Clarke:

This morning I saw a little blade of big galleta grass coming up a foot from the rest of the plant. It is such a small thing. It has so little effect on anything. But there are millions of clumps of big galleta grass in the desert. Each one sending out one shoot binds a little soil, sequesters a little carbon. Working together, they heal the earth.

A photo posted by Chris Clarke (@yucca.brevifolia) on Nov 11, 2016 at 4:31pm PST

In case his words get lost in the shuffle, I'll repeat them:

"This morning I saw a little blade of big galleta grass coming up a foot from the rest of the plant. It is such a small thing. It has so little effect on anything. But there are millions of clumps of big galleta grass in the desert. Each one sending out one shoot binds a little soil, sequesters a little carbon. Working together, they heal the earth."

Forward together, friends.

Thanksgiving Week

Love this parryi. Brought him home from the school garden two years ago, after the district banned spiky plants. Sun, snow... he doesn't care. Errant leaf is from one of the recent Santa Anas. On the right is Salvia mexicana 'Limelight.'

Much for me to be thankful for. Family, friends, beautiful weather, home, health, the whole week off for dogs and gardening and walks and tamales. I'm very fortunate: all loved ones and I live safe and sound here in the most beautiful region on earth.

Over to you, Pope Francis: 

 A prayer for our earth

All-powerful God, you are present in the whole universe
and in the smallest of your creatures.
You embrace with your tenderness all that exists.
Pour out upon us the power of your love,
that we may protect life and beauty.

Fill us with peace, that we may live
as brothers and sisters, harming no one.
O God of the poor,
help us to rescue the abandoned and forgotten of this
earth, so precious in your eyes.
Bring healing to our lives,
that we may protect the world and not prey on it,
that we may sow beauty, not pollution and destruction.
Touch the hearts
of those who look only for gain
at the expense of the poor and the earth.
Teach us to discover the worth of each thing,
to be filled with awe and contemplation,
to recognize that we are profoundly united
with every creature
as we journey towards your infinite light.
We thank you for being with us each day.
Encourage us, we pray, in our struggle
for justice, love and peace.

And a favorite quote from a rabbi: "Our prayers are answered when we are moved to do all that we can."

********

Looking south into the sun this morning. The cholla at upper right, behind the Opuntia basilaris in the old feed trough, looks like an x-ray of itself, spines translucent in the sunlight. That's a little Russelia equisetiformis in the foreground.

Last Sunday, looking north at the same group. That broken pot was one of my favorites :~( I am never throwing it away. To the left of the cholla is a new Opuntia azurea, the second one I've brought home from a UC Riverside Botanic Gardens Plant Sale. Love those spines. 

I stumbled across this Gymnocalycium chiquitanum over at the Mexican Hat Cactus Nursery and couldn't leave without it. It should look more like this. (Scroll down a bit). Beautiful flowers. Needs new soil and a sip of water. Think I'll keep this one inside for the winter.

The closing-shop sale at the Mexican Hat Cactus Nursery was mostly rained out last weekend, and so there are still a few days to visit and grab some very nice plants. There are BIG golden barrels (>2 feet across) for $50 and under, a gorgeous big Aloe marlothii, a huge Agave titanota, and lots of smaller plants. The nice people running the sales will help you dig up plants (if necessary — lots of choice stuff in the ground) and help carry them to your vehicle. No need to bring the wheelbarrow! Cash only. Black Friday freeway traffic will probably be insane, but towards the end of the week I'd like to drive back to the Mexican Hat for one last visit, maybe buy two or three more plants... two big golden barrels to flank the front door...? Hmmm...

Links:

From Agaveville comes Capturing Cacti Before They Disappear: Q&A with Cacti Curator John Trager.

Few things are more beautiful than a Monarch chrysalis, but I'll nominate a Monarch chrysalis hanging on an agave leaf. From a local blog, too: click here, then scroll down and click to embiggen. Also check out this link from the comments: more about the native vs. tropical milkweed debate, by a UC Davis professor. ("Ideologue"? Ouch. Big native plant advocate here, and wouldn't plant tropical milkweed, but look at my patio: I just bought two cactus from Bolivia, for Pete's sake.)

Meanwhile, east of the Mississippi... Julie Zickefoose is an artist and author from Ohio. She has a wonderful blog that I've been following since Chet Baker was a pup. Right now she is getting her garden ready for winter. Japanese maples, sweet potatoes, the story of 'Rio Samba' and the zinnia... and Boston Chet warming himself by the fire. Love that boy.

In the background as I blog, inimitable Chavela Vargas is singing the milonga-candombe 'Negra Maria.' True sad song (and yet so danceable) set during Carnaval in Buenos Aires. Great mix: milonga and candombe from Africa, adopted by descendants of Europeans in Argentina and Uruguay, where these musical influences were crucial to the birth of the tango. And speaking of tango, here's the awesome Gabriel Missé dancing with Analía Centurión at a studio in New York City. Skip ahead to 15:10 and watch them go all Corny Collins Show to Little Richard's Long Tall Sally. (Can't miss Little Richard's all-white 1956 audience.) In my fantasies, warring factions and evil despots hear this song on the radio, and they all put down their weapons and start to dance.

Merlin Tuttle and The Secret Lives of Bats

  Breathtaking. "Bright colors of painted bats blend well with dead leaves where they roost. Vespertilionidae, S and SE Asia." All photos by Merlin Tuttle.

¡Feliz Día de los Fieles Difuntos! Rather than whine about last week's Santa Anas (worst ever, say people who grew up here in the foothills) or the ongoing clean-up (Sisyphean) or express endless and well-deserved appreciation to the local cactus club members who rehomed some of my plants on Sunday afternoon (room for more opuntias and agaves, yay!), I want to talk for a minute about bats, and about Merlin Tuttle.

Dr. Tuttle is the founder and president emeritus of Bat Conservation International. Because of his work on behalf of bat conservation around the world, bats (and plants, and humans) live much, much better lives. That mosquito carrying the dose of West Nile Virus that had your name on it? A bat ate her. (Bats eat thousand of metric tons of insects in the US each year.) Those avocados (cashews, coconuts, bananas, etc.) you can't imagine living without? Bats pollinate them. Saguaros, glories of the wild and of many gardens, wouldn't exist without bats. The saguaro opens its flowers at night for them:

"A lesser long-nosed bat (Leptonycteris yerbabuenae) pollinating saguaro cactus in Mexico." 

And bats also pollinate agaves. Raise a glass of your favorite reposado to the bat!

"Lesser long-nosed bats (Leptonycteris yerbabuene) pollinating agave (source of tequila) in Arizona." 

And raise another glass to Merlin Tuttle. "Mr. Tuttle is fueled by a ferocious curiosity fed by a stiff dose of crazy," writes Julie Zickefoose in the Wall Street Journal review of his latest book. It's the best kind of crazy: he's determined to learn more, discover more, protect more, educate more, and his adventures along the way make Indiana Jones look like Barney Fife. Saving bats, it seems to me, is a way of saving the world, and I'm so happy that The Secret Lives of Bats is getting lots of attention. Check out the New Yorker review, and the Mother Jones review, then run to Amazon and get a copy.

***

(There's an old documentary floating around called The Secret World of Bats that features Merlin Tuttle and his work for Bat Conservation International. I've shown it to students every October for over twenty years. I realized with kind of a pang that last week's showing will probably be the final one. Not that I'd forego retirement just to keep playing this ancient video for people, but still. Bats are awesome, and Merlin Tuttle is awesome. I can't wait to read his new book.)

Hummingbirds, a cactus, and John Gould

Buffon's Plumeteer, now White-vented Plumeleteer, from John Gould's A Monograph of the Trochilidae or Humming Birds, Vol. II. "The figures are of the size of life." 

He was the son of a gardener. "Scanty education," says Wiki. John Gould was also a gardener himself (employed at Windsor in his teens), and a taxidermist, an ornithologist, an author, a publisher, an artist, and the first Curator and Preserver at the museum of the Zoological Society of London:

His identification of the birds now nicknamed "Darwin's finches" played a role in the inception of Darwin's theory of evolution by natural selection. Gould's work is referenced in Charles Darwin's book, On the Origin of Species.

A number of birds are named for him — check out the amazing Dot-eared Coquette (Lophornis gouldii). Gould collected birds in Australia and Tasmania, but didn't see much of the west. This killed me a little: 

Throughout his professional life Gould had a strong interest in hummingbirds. He accumulated a collection of 320 species, which he exhibited at the Great Exhibition of 1851. Despite his interest, Gould had never seen a live hummingbird. In May 1857 he travelled to the United States with his second son, Charles. He arrived in New York too early in the season to see hummingbirds in that city, but on 21 May 1857, in Bartram's Gardens in Philadelphia, he finally saw his first live one, a ruby-throated hummingbird. He then continued to Washington D.C. where he saw large numbers in the gardens of the Capitol. Gould attempted to return to England with live specimens, but, as he was not aware of the conditions necessary to keep them, they only lived for two months at most.[Quotes from Wiki.]

Poor creatures.

Gould never traveled to South America, so I imagine the plants in his illustrations were drawn from botanical collections. I wonder why he chose that cactus. (Echinopsis?) This species of plumeleteer is a forest bird, I think, though the print above looks like savanna or desert (one reason I bought a copy of it ages ago, at the Huntington). Unimaginable challenges for naturalists back in the day, and now anyone with a bit of tech can find information on DNA sequencing and dozens of photos and videos of the birds in habitat. We're lucky, and luckier still if we can see hummingbirds any time we look out the window.

White-vented Plumeleteer (Chalybura buffonii) photographed by Ron Knight in Colombia.


Gould's Jewelfront (Heliodoxa aurescens) photographed by Joao Quental in Perú.


Gould's Inca (Coeligena inca) photographed by Phillip Edwards in
 Machu Picchu, Perú.

Heartbreak Hotel

The fledgling.

This poor youngster landed on the cabin deck early last week. Parent birds keep an eye on fledglings like this one for some time after they leave the nest, bringing them food and doing what they can to help keep their offspring safe, but every so often there are extenuating circumstances (Fire Department to the Rescue! Happy ending!) and parents aren't around to help. This very young Red-breasted Sapsucker flew in at about nine in the morning, called for his family, preened a bit, pecked at the post, and looked tired. After a while he tucked his head under a wing and slept for a bit.

How I wish I'd offered him some food and water. But no, I was letting nature take her course [kicks self] and didn't want to frighten the parent birds, if they were nearby. They weren't. After several hours he launched away, fell to the ground, and died. 

I felt as if my heart would break, but a deceased fledgling can sometimes be a tiny bit of a deal, so like a good citizen scientist I placed the little guy's mortal remains in a baggie and put the baggie in a paper bag in the freezer. He'll go to legendary bird man Gene Cardiff at the San Bernardino County Museum. Mary Freeman, field trip leader for L.A. Audubon, was at the cabin on Saturday and wanted to take the fledgling to Kimball Garrett at the L.A. County Museum of Natural History, but I said no.  He's going to Gene. The fledgling will "play a vital role in advancing scientific knowledge," as the Smithsonian says. And his tag will always have my name on it, which is maybe the closest thing to immortality a provincial birder can hope for.

Side note: museum collections are awesome. They give me hope for humanity.

Local museums are usually happy to take bodies of wild critters of interest, provided said bodies are in good condition and have been frozen since the critter died. In other words, no mangled remains of something that has been lying on the road for a few days, ick. Unless it's an Archaeopteryx. Use common sense.

And finally, this was a new yard bird for me at the cabin. Such a sad way to add to the yard bird list, but at least it wasn't as bad as watching your life Mountain Quail being killed by a rattlesnake :~(

Here's a grown Red-breasted SapSucker, photographed by terrific local birder Tom Benson. I tell myself that the little one's spirit is having a great time flying around bird heaven.

Marlothii on my mind

OMG, they're everywhere. Good video, by the way. (Aloes, agaves start at 5:23.) I wonder where this was filmed...

Western links for Friday

Walt Longmire, er... Warden Karnow on a nice bay BLM mustang.

They're called wildlife officers now, not game wardens, but that doesn't change the fact that the work they do is incredibly important, and more challenging every time you look. Read more about California's wildlife officers here, and follow the links to order this year's California Warden Stamp. A bear on this year's stamp, yay! (Last year's crawdad lobster crustacean was just odd.) There's a warden stamp link in the right sidebar, always.

And speaking of Walt Longmire, sheriff of Absaroka County, Wyoming, here is a most excellent blog by someone who actually lives in Wyoming: Red Dirt in My Soul.  Great photos, clever crafts, ranch life, and the latest goings-on at the Ten Sleep Public Library. My favorite Wyoming sheriff has been known to make an occasional appearance.

Meet the two guys winter through-hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (with nineteen incredible photos). So beautiful! So cold! I'm sure I totally could do this if I had the right equipment. That's all you need — the right equipment. Yep.

Up at the Monterey Bay Aquarium the docents have a section of sea otter pelt for visitors to touch, and it is the softest, thickest, most beautiful fur ever. More here:

For those of you who enjoy a nice day hike: Robert Martinez is a camera trapper who documents the bears, mountain lions and other wildlife in the SoCal foothills. A stone's throw from downtown L.A., people! Check out his blog Parliament of Owls. You can't see them, but they can see you...

The fossil of a Wyoming alligator inspires a fascinating post by Brian Switek. Taphonomy: my new word of the day.

Curious orcas give boaters in dinghy the thrill of a lifetime. Ay caramba, that tiny boat...! “It was an experience I’ll never forget,” said Eric Martin, co-director of the Roundhouse Marine Studies Lab and Aquarium in Manhattan Beach. "And to be honest, I didn’t realize how small we looked” until he saw an image captured by researcher Alisa Schulman-Janiger. Be sure to watch the great videos.

Historic, daring climb on Yosemite’s El Capitan draws a crowd. In the photo gallery, gotta love the spectating couple ignoring the coyote.

And finally, if you live in the west and care about water, you should check out Maven's Notebook. Maven is Chris Austin, who created and published the Aquafornia blog for five years and who knows more about California water issues than pretty much anyone alive. She covers water news like a boss. Follow her for the most thorough, independent, straight dope on western water issues the web can offer.

That's it for today's linkage. Happy trails!

Historic, in its own little way

On Friday afternoon, May 18, 2012, I spotted a big fox squirrel in my oak tree here in Pleasantville. First sighting of this species ever. A few more photos here.

These not-so-little guys were first brought to Los Angeles in the early 1900s, possibly from Tennessee, and they've extended their geographic range, as the biologists say. A 2004 study found them as far east as Claremont — you can read more about the study here. The next fox squirrel census is scheduled for 2014, and I am so ready. They better not trouble my dear western grays, is all I can say.

Evening linkage

To the left is one of a series of alternate, for-promo-only posters for The Black Swan, created by design group LaBoca. See all of them at Scott Hansen's site.

The Zen Birdfeeder has a post on Juvenile Purple Finches and their antics, which reminds me of these photos of a good finch dad, taken here at the cabin last year by an L.A. Audubon member. Sweet ;~)

Loons and lead: read it and weep. Then surf over to Phillip Loughlin's The Hog Blog, and read a thoughtful hunter's commentary on this issue.

"We had another bird that went almost down to I-15 in the San Gabriel Mountains." That's an hour away from me [faints]. My sis, who lives up in San Jose, was the first to send me this news about wide-ranging California Condors. [Devastated by lead ammunition, the condor.]

Bryan D. Hughes's site Fieldherper.com has a gorgeous shot of a Black-tailed Rattlesnake in New Mexico's Guadalupe Mountains.

The Reptile Rescue Squad: Ashwin Baindur's daughter Aditi chronicles the rescue of a Russell's Viper, one of the most dangerous snakes in India.

Speaking of which: in The Truth About the Speckled Band, legendary venomous-snake authority [and Baker Street Irregular] Laurence Klauber reveals the identity of the... creature that killed Julia Stoner and Dr. Grimesby Roylott of Stoke Moran [shudders]. It wasn't a Russell's Viper, people.

More science news: Scientific American introduces its new blog network, with a stable of impressive bloggers [and Bora Zivkovic as Blog Editor, which bodes well]. For science geeks [like me] who love science blogs, this is very cool news. No such thing as too many outstanding science blogs these days, as far as I'm concerned.