A Reminder of What Once Was: An Evening at the San Joaquin River National Wildlife Refuge

What is it like to see ten thousand birds take to the sky all at once? Do you have to live on the African Savanna to find out? Sometimes one has to merely look in one's backyard (so to speak) to rediscover the extraordinary nature of where one lives. For instance, my home is in California's Great Valley (called by some the Central Valley). The valley is sometimes derided as a boring place to live, an endlessly flat expanse of agribusiness farms and poorly planned urban centers, and there is certainly a truth to that idea. A full 95% of the valley has been altered by humans from the original prairies and wetlands.

But the other 5%? Astounding at times.

The valley was once an expanse of open prairies, riparian corridors, and vast shallow lakes. A diverse fauna grazed the flatlands, Tule Elk, deer, antelope, horses, camels, bison, mammoths, mastodons, and giant ground sloths. They were preyed upon by a fearful assemblage of carnivores: Saber-toothed Cats, Jaguars, American Lions, Dire Wolves, Coyotes, Black Bears, Grizzly Bears, and huge Short-faced Bears (nothing else was short about them; they stood 12 feet tall). Much of the megafauna disappeared around 10,000 years ago for reasons that are still debated, but the valley still supported a healthy ecosystem when the European colonizers arrived and started changing things.

The valley supported millions upon millions of migratory birds. The valley for a variety of reasons has some of the mildest winter weather in North America, and arctic species for millennia utilized the wetlands for a winter home. Agricultural development deeply altered the available habitat and the birds suffered for it, but a string of wildlife refuges were established decades ago to help them survive. I'd love to say it was for preserving the natural habitat, but it was often to provide the birds a place where they wouldn't destroy crops, and to provide hunters a dependable target. But still, the refuges are islands of relative safety for the birds, and many species have thrived. 

The Aleutian Cackling Goose was once thought to be a subspecies of the similar Canada Goose, but they are now considered a distinct species. They were decimated by changes in their winter refuge, but also in their breeding grounds in the Aleutian Islands, were introduced foxes had exterminated most of them. By 1936 they were thought to be extinct. In 1962 a few hundred were found on an isolated island, and they received protection under the Endangered Species Act in 1973. Since then their numbers have rebounded, with a population today of nearly 200,000. And a very large percentage of them spend their winters only eight miles west of the biggest shopping center in my town.

We had a package to pick up at that shopping center today, so Mrs. Geotripper and I decided to run out to the viewing platform on Beckwith Road west of town. The platform overlooks the fields of the San Joaquin River National Wildlife Refuge. I have visited the spot dozens of times in the last six years, but I had never seen so many birds as were there this afternoon. I made a rough estimate of 4,000 Aleutian Cackling Geese, as well as around 12,000 of the white Snow and Ross's Geese. And as we watched, a large percentage of the geese took flight, which I caught in the video at the top of the post. It was an astounding sight.

It's not just geese that call the Great Valley their home. There are a large number of other strange and exotic birds that can be found here. This evening we saw some other interesting species. There was a flock of 200 or 300 Long-billed Curlews in a field north of the road. They have impossibly long beaks for exploring the mud for worms and bugs.

There was also a flock of around a hundred White-faced Ibises. They look very dark from a distance, but closer observations reveals a colorful iridescence. The white face only shows up in breeding season. They are unique to the Americas, and apparently evolved from the far more widely distributed Glossy Ibises.

Photo by Mrs. Geotripper

I've lived in the Great Valley now for more than thirty years, and I've long extolled the fascinating geological story of the valley, including the extensive fossil record, but I was appallingly ignorant of the fascinating species that still call the valley home today. I had never seen the tens of thousands of geese take flight all at once until around six years ago. I now look forward to the privilege with the approach of every winter season.

Sandhill Cranes and the Great Valley That Once Was, and in Places, Still Is (An Apologetic)

There's a difference between apologetics and polemics. The latter is an attack, but the former is a defense. I was writing a piece at my other blog, Geotripper's Birds of California about Sandhill Cranes, and in a few paragraphs it turned into an apologetic for living in the Great Valley of California, a place that few people find attractive. The thing is, when one searches carefully, there is much to see here in the way of beauty and grandeur. The Sandhill Cranes are but a single aspect. The original post follows:

These beautiful birds are among the reasons I took up bird photography a couple of years ago. I was astounded to find that Sandhill Cranes (Grus Canadensis) congregated by the tens of thousands very close to where I live, and I was not the least bit aware of it.

Living in the Central Valley of California (which I agree should always be called the Great Valley) is an exercise in frustration and futility. The natural environment, the greatest savanna environment in the United States, was almost completely co-opted by agricultural development, and then by urban development. It's not a great place for people to live...most of the jobs are poorly-paid manual labor, the soil, air and water are infused with pesticides, herbicides, and particulate air pollution, and health problems, especially asthma and related respiratory illnesses are rampant. Education is a low priority to those in power. We are consistently the first to suffer in economic downturns, and the last region to recover from them.

And yet there is still a greatness to this valley. In terms of the natural environment, dedicated people have worked tirelessly for decades to preserve the remnants of the rich ecosystem, and have worked even harder to rebuild some of the habitats as abandoned farmlands have come available. Thousands of acres of river floodplains have been replanted with native vegetation. There is now a string of wildlife refuges along the 400 mile length of the valley that provide shelter for the millions of winter migrants, the Sandhill Cranes, the Aleutian Cackling Geese, the Snow and Ross's Geese, and many others.

The Great Valley that existed hundreds and thousands of years ago is still available to observe and enjoy, and often only a few miles from the homes of everyone who lives here. In the Modesto-Turlock area, there are the San Luis and San Joaquin River National Wildlife Refuges. The Beckwith Road viewing platform (part of the San Joaquin refuge) is only an eight mile excursion from Modesto's biggest shopping mall. I was there last night and had a real treat. The Sandhill Cranes are elegant large birds, beautiful to photograph, but they are a bit wary (with good reason) of human beings. They tend to stay towards the interior of the refuge, being heard more than seen off in the distance.

It's deep into winter now, and food stores are kind of low. The refuge managers grow fields of corn and other crops for the sole use of the birds, and they'll plow down the corn in sections so the birds can feed easily. Once those crops are gone, the birds make do, and last night they were roaming the plowed fields close to the road and viewing platform. I got some of my closest shots in a long time.

This is part of the valley as it once was, and still is. It belongs to all of us, and it is right in our own backyard. And to our coastal and urban center friends, don't forget that there are some incredible sights to see on the valley floor when you are on your way to Yosemite or to one of the Sierra ski resorts. For our international visitors, there are more places to see than the travel brochures hint at. If you are interested in the natural world want to see some of the real California, not just the tourist meccas, then check out these places. The refuges are worthy of a look.

A California "Snow" Storm: A Winter Miracle in the Great Valley

People don't usually hear a great many good reasons to visit Modesto and environs. Forbes and others often put our Great Valley towns on the "worst places to live", but I think they really miss something when they do this sort of "expose". We grow most of the nation's food supply for one thing, so folks could be a little more appreciative of what we do. But it's really something else that few people are aware of, even those of us who live here. It's the magic of the season, the fact that we are a winter wonderland. The "snow" has nothing to do with precipitation, though, it has to do with millions of refugees from the snowbound northlands. They are Snow Geese. And Ross's Geese. And White-fronted and Aleutian Cackling geese. And thousands of Sandhill Cranes as well. In winter, the Great Valley becomes an American version of Africa's Serengeti Plain.

Snow Goose at the San Joaquin River National Wildlife Refuge

Hundreds of years ago, before the European invasion, the valley was home to tens of millions of migratory birds, but with settlement and development, 95% of their original grassland and river flood plain home disappeared. The birds could have been wiped out entirely, but a few visionary people worked to preserve a bit of the original valley habitat in an effort to save as many birds as possible. The result was a string of federal, state and non-profit run wildlife refuges that form a pathway down the 400 mile length of the valley. The birds will take refuge from October to March, when they begin making their way back north for breeding in the Arctic.

Aleutian Cackllng Goose (Branta hutchinsii) at the San Joaquin River National Wildlife Refuge. Several decades ago, there were only 600 of them left. Today there are around 200,000 because of conservation efforts in both Alaska and at the San Joaquin refuge (their primary winter home)

A great many people right here in the Modesto area are unaware of the Christmastime miracle that takes place each year. It's not hard to see incredible things just a short drive out of town. Only eight miles west of the biggest shopping mall in the region, on Beckwith Road, the San Joaquin River National Wildlife Refuge offers a viewing platform where one can see tens of thousands of migratory geese all at once. The best times are early in the morning and in the afternoon close to sundown. I took the video below at about 4:15 this afternoon during a short break from final exams at the college. Even with the YouTube compression, you can see tens of thousands of geese taking wing. You can hear the cacophony, but there is nothing like seeing and hearing it in person. The ground literally vibrates as the birds take to the air.


The spectacle is amazing, If you live here and you've never seen it, check it out right now! If you are from the Bay Area and are rushing to the Sierras for a ski day, take a short detour. It's worth your time. And if you are a birder, we are a winter paradise. More than 300 bird species have been documented in our area, and many of them can be seen during the winter season when the pickings are poor in other places (a lot of those disappearing birds come here!).

Picture of My Hand. Oh, and Some Sun Dogs with an Ice Halo

I was out at the San Joaquin National Wildlife Refuge this afternoon, checking on what migrant birds are still hanging around as we approach spring. I noticed some sun dogs in the western sky, and snapped a shot or two, but the bright sun was causing lens flares that were messing up the shots. It finally occurred to me to put my hand in front of the sun and suddenly I saw something I've never seen or noticed before: a 22° ice halo around the sun.

The sun dogs (also called mock suns or phantom suns; scientists call them parahelia) are caused by the refraction of sunlight through hexagonal ice crystals in the upper atmosphere. The rainbow colors in the sun dogs themselves happen because of the prisming effect of the crystals.

Either that, or I have summoned forth the twin solhundes (sun wolves) of Norse mythology...

A Different Canada Goose, the Cackling Kind: Evolution on the Continent

Isolation brings about evolutionary change, and the Canada Goose clan has been doing some changing over the last few thousand years, especially in Hawaii, but also here in California. Today's blog is cross-posted from my new birding blog, Geotripper's California Birds.

If you've ever been accosted by a Canada Goose at the local park, pictures like these might give you the shivers. If one of them can deliver a nasty bite, just imagine what a few thousand of them can do. But take heart, these scenes are no nightmare. They aren't even Canada Geese. The birds occupying this field in the San Joaquin National Wildlife Refuge west of Modesto are Aleutian Cackling Geese (Branta hutchinsii). It's true, though, that before 2005 they were Canada Geese. Allow me to explain.

The Canada Goose lives in many environments, and in some cases particular flocks broke away and colonized different islands or territories (see yesterday's post for an extreme example). The presence or lack of food sources or differences in the nature of predators favored certain traits (size and behavior, for instance) in the young. The geese who summered on the Aleutian Islands were long recognized as a smaller subspecies of the Canada Goose, but recent DNA analysis has led researchers to consider these birds an entirely different species. And so these birds are not Canada Geese, they are the much smaller Aleutian Cackling Geese, which are genetically distinct from the Canada Goose.

The Cackling Geese winter by the tens of thousands in the wildlife refuge a few miles west of my home. It is a stunning sight to see so many of the birds in one place. From the observation deck on Beckwith Road, one can see and hear thousands of birds taking off and landing, and in general making a racket (cackling, as it were). They have been encouraged to stay here instead of nearby agricultural fields through the planting of corn and other food plants. In April they will pick up and leave, headed north to breed in the Arctic.

The refuge is also home to thousands of lesser Sandhill Cranes. We could just make out a flock of them in the far distance. Snow Geese also winter in the area. There were five of them among the thousands of Cackling Geese yesterday, looking mildly confused. They usually arrive in large numbers in late November or early December.

"George, are you SURE this is the right place? Shouldn't you have asked directions in Oregon?"

As we were standing and watching the flocks there was a tremendous BOOM, and thousands of the geese immediately took flight. A huge dust plume over to the west revealed where the explosion had come from. And why.

It was a huge net. Several dozen of the birds had been trapped and for the next few minutes we could see Fish and Wildlife employees tagging them.

As usual, the picture quality from YouTube sucks (the compression process I suppose), but you can get a sense of the cacophony of sound from the flying geese from the short video below.