Tuolumne River Trail Nears Completion: A Short Explore Along a Priceless River

The value of a river can be measured in so many ways, and the Tuolumne River here in California is no exception. It has headwaters in the spectacular high country of Yosemite National Park, flows through a gorge as deep as the Grand Canyon, gets trapped for a time in Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, and later in Don Pedro Reservoir. Then the river sort of falls out of public perception. It drains onto the floor of the Great Valley at Waterford, sort of sneaks past the city of Modesto, and joins with the very shrunken San Joaquin River before flowing into the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta, and then into San Francisco Bay.

But what are the most important parts of a river? The scenery of the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne and Tuolumne Meadows is unmatched, one of the most beautiful places in the world. But farmers and city planners could care less about the scenery up in the mountains. Their lives are dominated by acre-feet and cubic feet per second, the measures of how much water in the river is available for agricultural, industrial and domestic use. What gets lost in the shuffle is that downstream part, past the spectacular parks and huge reservoirs. That part of the river in the long run might be the most important.

The Great Valley of California is one of the most productive landscapes on planet Earth. We subsumed most of it, 95%, for our own purposes, but the valley still supports a stunning variety of plant and animal life. In my own county alone, more than 300 bird species have been sighted at one time or another. Vast numbers of Arctic-breeding birds, Snow Geese, Sandhill Cranes, Cackling Geese, Ross's Geese, and White-fronted Geese still spend the winter in the small wildlife refuges that preserve a portion of the wetlands that once existed in the valley.

A Northern Flicker, a type of woodpecker, on a dead oak tree along the river trail.

Many of these facts are unknown to the children of our valley (and yes, their parents and grandparents too). Many of them live next to some of these arteries of life that flow past their towns, and the birds, insects and other animals lurk unseen just a few blocks from their homes. There is a huge need for nature education for these students, and the rivers are marvelous outdoor laboratories.

Foundations for a stairway that will provide access to the river. It's within walking distance of three schools.

So I'm excited by a few developments in the last few months. I've written a great deal about the Great Valley Museum on my campus in Modesto, but something else is happening right in my own backyard in Waterford. The small city has recognized the value of the beautiful river flowing nearby and is putting the finishing touches on a two-mile long river trail that will include interpretive signs and chances to see wildlife, as well as water-related recreation. An opening ceremony will take place on November 21.

A female Phainopepla. The males are pure black. This is the first time I've seen one around here.

I've been walking the river trail for months now, watching the progress. Today's walk was unusually rich in wildlife discoveries. Standing under a native Elderberry I saw a half dozen bird species, including Yellow-rumped Warblers, Vireos, a Black Phoebe, a Scrub Jay, a finch, and for the first time for me, a Phainopepla! I've seen them in the deserts east of the Sierra Nevada, but never here at home.

A Black Phoebe, a species of tyrant flycatcher.

It's been a tough year for wildlife as we suffer through another year of unprecedented drought. The rivers have been low and choked with invasive Hyacinth, but they've continued to flow, providing life for the birds, the mammals, and the fish, including the salmon. Until the San Joaquin River is rehabilitated, the Tuolumne River is pretty much the southernmost river providing at least some refuge to the endangered Chinook Salmon. The low flows have contributed to declines in their population. But life persists. And soon our children will have better opportunities to see the birds and other animals in their native habitats.

A Yellow-rumped Warbler

It's so easy to live in our insulated homes and ignore that we are part of a larger ecosystem. Preservation of our river and valley environments provides us an opportunity to learn more about our place in the greater scheme of things. Next time you are heading up to Yosemite National Park, or to the reservoir for some recreation, stop in Waterford and check out our modest effort to explain the value of the lower Tuolumne River. It's not Yosemite, but it has its own separate kind of beauty.

I'm not sure what kind this one is, but others I've seen around this shrub have been Black-chinned Hummingbirds.

Geotripper is for the Birds: Life persists in the midst of horrific drought

It was on my morning stroll that I realized that Dry Creek was flowing. The creek has its headwaters in the Sierra Nevada foothills, and drains a region about thirty miles long before joining up with the Tuolumne River in downtown Modesto. It might seem extraordinary to be impressed by such a thing, but Dry Creek in recent decades tends to flow all year, from winter and spring rain runoff, and from irrigation overflow during the rest of the year. We had about two-thirds of an inch of rain yesterday, and in this drought year, that was finally enough to stop just infiltrating into the ground in the headwaters and begin flowing down the channel. In the twenty-five years I've been here, I've never seen such dry conditions. The rain is welcome, giving a last bit of moisture to fuel the growth of vegetation before the long dry season sets in. But it does little to alleviate the drought; we'd need something on the order of a foot of rain in the Great Valley and many feet of snow in the mountains in the next few weeks to fill the reservoirs.

As many of my readers know, I got a new camera a few months ago, and the powerful zoom lens has allowed me to explore a world that has been largely hidden to me until now: birds. Living in the Great Valley is wonderful for the access it provides to the incredible geological wonders of the Sierra Nevada, the Coast Ranges and the Cascades, but during the winter months when most field studies aren't happening the valley can seem a boring place. But not for the birds; for the birds, the valley is life itself. Millions of migratory birds winter on the valley floor, primarily in the federal and state bird refuges that have been established up and down the San Joaquin and Sacramento Valley floors. Over the last few months we have been frequenting some of the wildlife refuges, and the variety and number of bird species has been stunning to me (the neophyte birder). But the lingering drought is going to have an effect on their populations.

In some ways, the most surprising aspect of the bird-watching has been the variety of species I've found in my local neighborhood.  I documented some of them back in January in this post, but I have seen some more as the rain has finally come, and a few migrants have arrived back in the valley for the spring and summer. Here is a selection of the birds I have seen in the last week or two.

Cooper's Hawk (Accipiter cooperii)

The nicest discovery from this morning was a pair of Cooper's Hawks near Dry Creek (they could also have been Sharp-shinned Hawks, a closely related species; I invite corrections!). Even with the zoom lens, the raptors have been surprisingly shy about getting photographed. The hawks this morning were paying more attention to each other.

Western Bluebird (Sialia mexicana)

I saw quite a few Western Bluebirds during January and February, but I thought they had migrated higher up into the mountains, having not seen any for weeks. But here was one that was hanging out in the cow pasture a few blocks from my house. I love his colors.

Lesser Goldfinch (Carduelis psaltria)

There has been no lack of Lesser Goldfinches around my house. They are one of the most common visitors at our birdfeeders. This morning was the first time I've caught them foraging in the wild (the wild in this case being the grass along the highway north of my little farm town). The flowers in the background are Fiddlenecks and Purple Vetch.

Black Phoebes (Sayornis nigricans)

I love the little flycatchers in our area called the Black Phoebe. They are a western species, found commonly only in California, Arizona, and New Mexico, and many points south as far as Argentina. The Great Valley seems to be the northernmost end of their range. I'd never noticed them in the past, but I've seen dozens of them in the last three months.

Western Scrub Jay (Aphelocoma californica)

It's hard to miss the Western Scrub Jays around here. They're obnoxious and loud sometimes, and they're always chasing the other birds away from our feeders. On the other hand, they are one of the most colorful birds in our area. I always enjoy getting a close look at one.

Barn Swallow (Hirundo rustica)

One the recent arrivals in our area have been the Barn Swallows. They winter in Central and South America and migrate into our region for the summer. I photographed one for the first time just a few days ago. I'm seeing flocks of them lately building nests under the bridges around our irrigation canals.

Nuttall's Woodpecker (Picoides nuttallii)

I was very surprised to find a species unique to California living in my neighborhood. I thought "rare" endemics are hard to find. The Nuttall's Woodpecker hangs out in oak woodlands of California and nowhere else. I've now seen them several times in the walnut trees next to the cow pasture (and on telephone poles).

Great-tailed Grackle males (Quiscalus mexicanus)

The Great-tailed Grackles just recently arrived on the CSU Stanislaus campus. They arrived raucously, with one of the loudest calls I've heard during my bird travels of late.The males are dark black (above), while the females are brown (and much smaller).

Great-tailed Grackle females (Quiscalus mexicanus)

Yellowlegs Sandpiper (Tringas species); I don't know if it is the Greater or the Lesser.

I found the Yellowlegs Sandpiper in the slowly filling irrigation canal a few blocks from my house. They winter in our area before heading north into Alaska and Canada.

Yellow-rumped Warbler (Setophaga coronata)

I've briefly seen the Yellow-rumped Warbler flitting about in the grass on my campus, and even  chasing insects on my back porch one morning, but I walked out of my classroom on the third floor of our new Science Community Center the other day, and there was this little one right there in front of me. He politely waited until I had taken a few pictures before flying off.

Yellow-billed Magpie (Pica nuttalli), a Central Valley original

The Yellow-billed Magpie is endemic to the Central Valley. I see them all the time, and they are beauties. They are also in grave danger. The West Nile Virus reached our region in 2004, and the Yellow-billed Magpies were particularly vulnerable to the infection, with something like a 95% fatality rate. The population dropped by half in two years when the infection began. According to some web sources, they are rebounding somewhat from the disaster. I hope so; they are one of the prettiest of our local species.

So why all these birds on my geology site? Well, mainly because it's my blog, and I write about whatever interests me at the moment. But in the larger picture, the native species of a region are shaped by the geological forces acting on that area. These birds are adapted to the Mediterranean climate of the Great Valley and the riparian areas (rivers) and grasslands found within. They have survived hundreds of droughts in the past, and presumably are equipped to survive those of the present and the future. They have persisted through the vast floods which sometimes turn our valley into a vast lake. They are products of the geological forces shaping our valley just as surely as the rocks and sediment beneath our feet. And like so many of the wonderful geological sites in our state, they are interesting and often beautiful.

Birds of My Neighborhood: Geotripper Finds a Moment of Incredible Majesty Amid Environmental Devastation

A White-faced Ibis (Plegadis chihi) at the Merced National Wildlife Refuge

I wonder if you've noticed an additional aspect to my blogging in recent weeks. It wasn't a New Year's resolution because it started well before Christmas, but I realized that I needed to get rid of a few pounds, so I started walking once or twice a day. When a new and more powerful camera landed in my hands, I realized I could get some decent pictures of the numerous birds species I've been encountering during my explorations along the cow pastures and canal levees that are prevalent in my neighborhood.

A Black Phoebe (Sayornis nigricans) at the Merced National Wildlife Refuge

So I've started blogging bird pictures on occasion, such as here, here, and here (click on the words for the link). Is there a geological link in observing birds? I've decided there is, especially in California's Great Valley. The science of the Earth is eclectic, drawing on many different disciplines, including chemistry, physics, astronomy, oceanography, meteorology, and on occasion, biology (think especially of paleontology). Sometimes there is a direct connection, such as when overgrazing or removal of beavers changes the pattern of stream erosion. And land-use issues are one of those areas where geologists can provide an important perspective.

Artificially flooded ancestral wetlands at the Merced National Wildlife Refuge. These are reclaimed farmlands.

One of the most important land-use issues in the Great Valley involves agricultural and urban development and the conflict it causes with the natural habitat that existed prior to the arrival of European settlers. Some 95% of the valley has been plowed over, and all the major (and most of the minor) rivers have been dammed, diverted, or otherwise changed in the service of agriculture. In more recent years, urban growth has paved over prime agricultural acreage, creating a conflict within a conflict. The ramifications of these conflicts extend far beyond the Great Valley. They reach from the northernmost Arctic wastes to the equator, and into South America. The Great Valley, as it turns out, is one of the most critical stops on the migratory flyway for myriads of bird species. Our choices in the valley determine the health of ecosystems thousands of miles away. And most of the wetlands that made the valley such an important flyway stop were drained and plowed decades ago.

Black-necked Stilt (Himantopus mexicanus) at the Merced National Wildlife Refuge

That is why I am kind of thrilled to be writing today about the bird species of my home turf. I have driven by a couple of wildlife refuges for two decades without stopping (what can I say? I live next to the Sierra Nevada and the California Coast; they are a huge distraction). In the last few months, we've been stopping and having a look, and yesterday at the Merced National Wildlife Refuge I saw an incredible thing.

Great Egret (Ardea alba) at the Merced National Wildlife Refuge

The first thing to realize is that the destruction of wetlands has been recognized for many decades, and for years some visionaries have worked to establish protected wetlands. In some cases they have reclaimed former agricultural acreage in a concerted effort to reconstruct some of the original environment that once characterized the valley. There is now a mosaic of wildlife refuges surrounding my community, lined up like islands in a sea of farms and ranches reaching from one end of the valley to the other (a 400 mile stretch). We can never fully recover what was, and will never see the spectacle of millions upon millions of birds descending on the valley floor, but we can see the tens of thousands of the survivors.

Sandhill Cranes (Grus canadensis) at the Merced Refuge

That's what I saw yesterday. I'm admitting my own stupid ignorance here, but I had no idea that we had an American version of the Serengeti Plains a short way from my house. We've probably all seen television documentaries and footage of vast flocks of birds flying and flocking, but I'd never seen such a thing for myself. We headed out to the Merced National Wildlife Refuge because we'd heard they had flooded the wetlands, and that some Sandhill Cranes might be seen. We saw some cranes, but that's not what I found stunning. It was the Ross's (or maybe Snow) Geese.

Ross's Geese (Chen rossii) and Coots at the Merced Refuge

The Ross's Geese spend their summers in the far northern islands of Canada, and spend their winters in California. As we drove the loop road through the refuge, we could see vast flocks off in the distance, and from more than a mile away we could hear their noise. As we drew closer, we could see that there were thousands of them, maybe tens of thousands (some sources mention 60,000 geese). They were chattering and honking, and it was almost deafening. Then the extraordinary thing happened. There was a hush that made us look up, and then a sound like a jet engine began to roar. The ground actually seemed to tremble. Every single one of the ten thousand or so geese was taking flight at once. In less than 20 seconds they were all airborne. I have no idea what set them off, but it was like nothing I've ever seen in my life.

Ross's Geese taking flight

I got a good video of the event, but the compression process during uploading removes the high definition and makes it hard to easily visualize what was happening. I can only say to try and imagine what this piddly movie is showing, and then someday give yourself the opportunity to visit the wildlife refuge during the winter and see it happening for yourself. It's free!

Try something new each day. Your life will be richer for it!

Birds of My Neighborhood: Geotripper Explores the Home Base on National Bird Day

Cedar Waxwing (Bombycilla cedrorum)

I'm told that today is National Bird Day (thanks, Randall), which was convenient to today's post since I was already collecting pictures of birds from my last two days of neighborhood exploration. It was meant to be an addition to my post several days ago describing the surprising diversity of birds in my home town, despite the winter chill. The Great Valley of California turns out to be quite the refuge for winter survival of a great many avian species. We are far enough south to avoid the frigid chill of arctic storms, and most of our storms are gentle compared to the blizzards experienced in other parts of the country (with the occasional exception, of course).

Cedar Waxwing (Bombycilla cedrorum)

But really, birds in a geology blog? What connection could there possibly be with the study of rocks, minerals, and fossils? Oh, yeah, fossils. Birds have been an important part of the web of life on this planet for more than 100 million years, and were the last of the major families of terrestrial creatures to emerge. They are literally the last dinosaurs, but as such they are particularly successful and diverse dinosaurs, and most certainly not a failing evolutionary dead end. And they apparently almost displaced mammals as the apex predators in the terrestrial environment several tens of millions of years ago.

American Robin (Turdus migratorius)

After the "regular" dinosaurs met their demise at the end of the Cretaceous Period (possibly as a result of an asteroid impact), the subset of feathered avian dinosaurs were some of the survivors that expanded and evolved to fill a world with many empty environmental niches. Mammals were quickly evolving to fill those same niches, and for a while there were some gigantic land birds that were the top predators of their time. Eventually their places were taken by large mammals and crocodile-type reptiles, but the birds mostly took to the air and became one of the most diverse vertebrate animal groups in the world today.

Yes, you "mock" me now, but imagine me being 10 feet tall. That would change your tone in a hurry...

Today, birds are an integral part of any terrestrial ecosystem, and their relative health is a barometer for all life on our planet. There is a great joy in observing the incredible diversity of these fascinating creatures, but the diversity and future survival of these animals is threatened from habitat destruction and hunting. That's probably more true in the Great Valley of California than for about any other place on the planet.

Western Bluebird (Sialia mexicana)

The Central Valley (the term is interchangeable with Great Valley) is one of the world's great savanna-grassland-riparian habitats and was once a paradise for numerous bird species and other animals. The vast wetlands were historically a critical stop on the migratory flyway for hundreds of species. Unfortunately for the birds, the rich soils and ample water supply from Sierra Nevada rivers have meant that most of the valley has been co-opted by humans for agricultural development. Only 5% of the original habitat still exists. This has meant huge changes in the ecosystem, with many species that have disappeared, and others that have prospered. 

Oak Titmouse (Baeolophus inornatus)

Humans added all kinds of mayhem by introducing new bird species for spurious and stupid reasons. One of the worst: a man in the 1890s who resolved to introduce to the New World all the birds mentioned in the works of Shakespeare. He arranged for the release of several hundred European Starlings in Central Park. They have since spread across the continent like a plague, displacing dozens if not hundreds of species of native songbirds. Other birds arrived as pets which subsequently escaped (flocks of parrots live in the LA Basin, for instance).

Black Phoebe (Sayornis nigricans). Identification thanks to Callan Bentley (Mountain Beltway) and his friend Seth.

Despite the horrific pressure brought to bear on the native species of California, there are many bird varieties still to be seen in the Great Valley. I have become aware of this delightful fact over the last few weeks as I explored my own local neighborhood with a new camera with a nice optical zoom. We've always had a feeder in the backyard, which caused me to think that the only local birds were goldfinches, house finches, scrub jays, and mockingbirds. A new habit of walking around the nearby cow pasture has revealed a real menagerie of beautiful and interesting species.

Scrub Jay (Aphelocoma californica)

So today's post (and my post from several days ago) is a celebration of National Bird Day, with fifteen species that I was able to photograph in just two days of strolling around my neighborhood. Some I've seen before, and many I have never noticed. I never would have guessed that two, and maybe three species of woodpecker live on my block!

Northern Mockingbird (Mimus polyglottos)

Some of the birds are skittish and shy, and others look at you and don't give a rat's posterior that you are standing there photographing them. And then there are the crows and ravens. You look at them and you can see them thinking and hear them talking about you...they are said to be the smartest of all birds, and I pretty much accept that way of thinking.

Nuttall's Woodpecker (Picoides nuttallii)

And never forget: these little fellows are dinosaurs. Only they're smarter...