Happy New Year dear friends. Here are some photos from America, coast to coast in all the seasons–12 nature moments in 2025. I am hoping you, too, have embraced beautiful sights in 2025.
JANUARY—We came upon this river otter while birding the Pacific Flyway winter migration in the San Joaquin Delta of California. Lontra canadensis.
River Otter, Calif.
FEBRUARY—The northern elephant seals (12 or more seen here) were tending their newborns on this chilly day at Drake’s Beach, Pt. Reyes, California. Mirounga augustirostris.
MARCH—A pair of mallards on the frigid water of the Chena River, Fairbanks, Alaska.
APRIL—Signs of spring at Abbotts Lagoon in Pt. Reyes, California. Wild douglas iris (Iris douglasiana).
MAY—A quiet boat ride down the Suwannee Canel at Okefenokee Swamp. Mossy cypress trees, black water, alligators silently traversing too.
JUNE—Spring emergence of the California Tortoiseshell butterflies on Mt. Ashland in Oregon. They were gathering sustenance from the tiny bell flowers of a blooming manzanita tree. Nymphalis californica.
JULY—Rural Illinois on a summer day, storm brewing, knee-high patches of wild prairie flowers between corn fields and farmhouses.
AUGUST—A boat ride on the San Francisco Bay at Tiburon, California, we were headed for a day of frolicking on Angel Island. Mt. Tamalpais reigning in the background.
SEPTEMBER—Breathing in the Pacific sea air at Bodega Head in Bodega Bay, California, as we waited for the fish shack to open for lunch.
OCTOBER—A cawing raven telling of the upcoming storm on this autumn day at Pt. Reyes, California. Corvus corax.
NOVEMBER—A foggy winter Wednesday on the Mendocino Coast, California. My birthday.
DECEMBER—A bird species we welcome in the winter at Pt. Reyes–the Say’s Phoebe, taking a momentary break from hawking insects. Sayornis saya.
Thank you, dear readers, for your visits and comments and interest this past year. A special thanks to my fellow bloggers for sharing the marvels of this planet with me.
Cheers to a new year ahead filled with more beauty…and the gifts to see it, smell it, hear it, feel it…hold it.
Now that we’re in the middle of December, all of our winter birds in northern California have arrived. It is with great pleasure that I share a bit of information and photos featuring one of my favorite over-wintering shorebirds: the long-billed curlew.
Drakes Beach, Pt. Reyes, CA
The largest shorebird in North America, Numenius americanus have a distinctive long, downward-curved bill.
They also have gorgeous plumage with touches of mauve, in the right light, and cinnamon colors. There is a flourish of geometric shapes with speckling and barring.
The curlews will stay here on the shores of Pt. Reyes and other northern California coastal habitats until spring, around April. Additionally, they winter in parts of coastal Florida, Texas, and much of Mexico. (Range map below.)
They consume a robust winter diet with the use of their exquisitely long bills, probing deep into mud and sand for aquatic invertebrates.
How long is that bill? It’s about 5-7″ long (12.7-17.78 cm).
The curlews were busy probing and it was entertaining.
Most shorebirds probe the sand but some invertebrates, buried deep, cannot be reached. But the long-billed curlew can surpass what most shorebirds cannot reach.
Several times I watched a curlew dig up a buried sand crab and then drop it. There would sometimes be a few tries before the crab was conquered.
We enjoyed a blissfully quiet beach, the fog and briny aroma, and the shorebirds. Mid-December when so much of the world seems to be in distress or chaos, we quietly strolled this beach and absorbed the peace and beauty.
Both these birds, pictured below, are winter visitors. It is heartwarming to see both species back at Pt. Reyes after all these months of absence.
The long-billed curlew is on the left, the marbled godwit on the right. They often forage together.
We heard two curlews exchange a whistled vocalization, which reminded me that the curlew is named for its sound–an onomatopoeic moniker for its vocalization: a harsh whistled cur-lee.
In spring the long-billed curlews will migrate to their native habitat of dry grassland and sagebrush prairie where they feed on insects like beetles, grasshoppers, caterpillars, spiders, toads and more.
This seems a little different to me than many birds who migrate in winter from a cold coast to a warmer one, or a frigid grassland to a warmer one. To go from a grassland in summer to a coastal habitat in winter is slightly unusual. I like their flexibility.
When the earth warms, the curlews will return to their western North America breeding grounds, mainly the Great Plains and Great Basin.
Blue=wintering grounds. Orange=breeding grounds.
Range Map courtesy allaboutbirds.org
Shorebirds, for most birders, can be tricky to identify. Many of their colors are similar–whites, tans, browns, blacks–and their markings too. Some, like gulls, have different plumage for different life phases, which is confusing. Additionally, the light on a beach can be difficult with the sun, sand and water reflections often rendering birds as mere silhouettes.
But the long-billed curlew, with that gracefully curving extension, stands out in pure glory.
We are off to the northern California coast today to fill our lungs with fresh briny sea air and experience the raw beauty of the Mendocino shoreline.
Before we get there, the road takes us past autumnal vineyards in Anderson Valley and then a redwood forest.
Northern California has had the fortune of rain throughout autumn. The vineyard leaves have been a rich combination of gold, orange and red. With each rain a few more deciduous grape leaves flutter to the ground.
Redwood trees thrive in the coastal areas of Northern California due to summer fog, mild temperatures, and winter rains. Many of the inland roads leading to the coast feature redwood groves.
We drove through this one, pictured below, on Highway 128. Navarro River Redwoods State Park.
We enjoyed the typical aspects of coastal redwood forests: dripping canopies and a redolent earthy aroma. The understory was glistening with sword ferns and clover-like sorrel. Our steps on the soft, red needle carpet were hushed.
Mature trees here were second-growth, about 200-240 feet tall (61-73m). Second-growth trees are the most common redwoods we see in California today. Sequoia sempervirens. These have been cut once, usually logged in the 1800s, and have now grown back.
The really big giants, i.e. old-growth, that have never been cut, comprise less than 5% of the redwoods in California.
As glorious as all this is, it’s time to get back in the car and head to Mendocino.
The narrow, winding roads are always tricky on these redwood stretches because the trees keep growing; there are places where a solid, tall redwood is just a few arm-lengths from your car.
Twenty minutes later we have reached the coastal highway, Highway 1–the longest state route in California, spanning 656 miles (1,056 km).
Many worldwide visitors come to California to see Highway 1, take in the Pacific Ocean and its majestic beauty. Most folks, however, visit the Big Sur section of the highway in southern California.
Today we are at the opposite end, in the north. It takes us to the town and county of Mendocino.
Typical of northern California shorelines, the Mendocino coast is a rugged coast with rocky cliffs, sea arches and rustic beaches.
Geographically situated at the junction of three tectonic plates, this coast has been rocked and jolted throughout the centuries. Pacific, North American and Gorda plates.
It is the rocky coastline and dense fog that has made the Mendocino coast notorious for shipwrecks. The shipwreck of the Frolic in 1850 is what led shipmates, in a salvaging effort, to the discovery of a redwood forest. This soon brought in loggers and settlers, and the new town of Mendocino was born.
There are many small islands on this part of the coast, like the ones photographed above and below. They are a perfect spot for sea birds to forage and preen in peace–no humans or land predators.
The water is never still here. Waves are forever crashing against the miles and miles of jagged rocks and cliffs. Jetties, tidepools, sea foam, driftwood in spots. Sea palms on the rocks get swooshed and jostled by rhythmic waves.
The scenic town of Mendocino caters largely to tourists. It is a small, unincorporated town of great beauty with a population of not quite 1,000. The village was founded around a mill in the 1850s and attracted settlers who built Victorian-style homes, churches, and stores, creating a historic architecture that is a major draw for tourists.
There are pricey shops and restaurants, many breathtaking views of the ocean wherever you go, and an ambience of mellow quirkiness and charm.
Summers here are busy, winter days less so. The ocean, in the photo below, is at the end of this downtown street.
I cannot highlight Mendocino California without addressing the town’s name to fame: Murder She Wrote. It was a popular TV series from 1984 to 1996 featuring Angela Lansbury as Jessica Fletcher who solved an uncanny number of murders in the small fictional town of Cabot Cove represented by Mendocino. Opening credits and some scenes feature the Mendocino coast. Jessica’s “home” is here, too. It’s called Blair House on Lake Street and is now a small inn.
For a short time, we walked around the town and cemetery, but it was always the coast that was drawing us in. We spent most of our time frolicking along the water’s edge–walking trail paths, birding, and eating take-out meals overlooking the sea.
We found this white-crowned sparrow in a bramble of berries and cotoneaster. He steadily plucked and ate one wild blackberry after another.
Brown pelicans, double-crested cormorants, western gulls, sparrows and many other birds kept us entertained. We saw a few sea lions, too.
There was a hardy female Anna’s hummingbird who greeted us often, the last photo.
Originally the drive home was going to include another stretch of Highway 1 and the Point Arena Lighthouse, but the fog was so thick that morning we could barely see the road. We’ll have to come back for that.
At the end of our three-day stay, back we drove through the dripping redwoods, back through the vineyards that had lost more leaves, and inland to home.
For our Halloween fun today, it’s a good time to look at wild animals that give us a slight chill. Wild animals have a rawness that is unpredictable and can indeed be spooky.
Calif. Striped Racer, CA
These are not even some of the very scariest animals (like a hyena) because I don’t want to give you nightmares.
We start with a fellow mammal, a Halloween specialty, the bat. This one is a spectacled flying fox. We came upon a colony in a forest in northern Queensland, Australia.
You can see in the photo below the bat looks bespectacled, for which it is named.
Spectacled Flying Fox, Australia
Some of the creatures here just look spooky because they’re different, but others really are spooky for how dangerous they can be.
Below is a male African buffalo. We were in Zambia, Africa and more than once our jeep came from behind tall grass and there one would be, glaring at us.
Took my breath away a few times.
His left eye is scarred and half-shut, no doubt the result of a fight. A typical male, like this one, weighs 1,650 pounds (750 kg).
African Buffalo, Zambia
This hippo, below, was scarred and surly. Some people may think hippos are kind of cute, but when you are near one in the wild, you immediately grasp the sobering presence they exude.
Hippos are fast–faster than they look.
Hippo, Zambia
Below are warthogs we came upon in Zambia; they had been digging for roots and tubers. Long, flat snouts, sharp tusks and soulless eyes. A strong-legged and very fast animal.
While on a safari walk, the guide told us to stay away from ground holes because the warthogs cleverly back into burrows, out of sight, and come charging out tusk first if they are threatened.
Common Warthogs, Botswana
There are many intimidating African animals in the wild, but we’ll look at just two more, seen in Botswana.
The male lion, below. I think we all know to fear this formidable creature. They swagger confidently and have piercing golden eyes and when it’s the right time, they pounce and tear flash like the warriors they are.
African Lion, Botswana
This is a cobra we encountered. The snake’s hood (neck) is flared and its head is up, ready to strike.
Shimmery and golden in the African sun, but deadly.
Cobra, Botswana
Let’s hop on our witchy broomstick to head over to the western hemisphere, look at more spooky creatures.
Golden Silk Spider, GA
Galapagos Islands. Far out in the Pacific Ocean about 600 miles (1,000 km) from the mainland, the wildlife has evolved in isolation, unaccustomed to humans.
These two wild iguana species, below, were not dangerous to be around, but just so incredibly unusual. Absolutely prehistoric looking.
The only living lizard that forages in the sea, marine iguanas are slow on land but graceful under water. We saw hundreds of them basking on rocks and even found a few in the water when we were snorkeling.
In 1835 Charles Darwin reported the Galapagos black lava rocks were frequented by these “most disgusting, clumsy lizards.” That seems a bit harsh–he probably found them on one of the days he was having stomach troubles.
Marine Iguana, Galapagos Isl.
Equally as curious-looking were the land iguanas. Here is a pair, below.
Peeling skin, crusty faces, long rat-like tails and gnarled claws.
Land Iguanas, Galapagos Isl.
Let’s head to Central America next. But yikes, this broomstick is so uncomfortable. Let’s switch to a magic carpet.
This American Crocodile, below, was churlishly staring at us as our little boat cruised by. Look at that mouth. Even when the chops are shut you know there’s pointy, sharp teeth lurking inside. How many teeth? About 65.
American Crocodile, Costa Rica
The array of spooky insects we have on this planet is immense. Many are very cool, but I’m taking it easy on you today. I’ve just got one for you, the assassin bug, below.
They’re called assassin bugs because they use an “assassination” method to hunt and kill. They ambush their prey, then grab them with their front legs, inject them with paralyzing saliva and then suck out the liquefied innards.
Assassin Bug, Belize
Heading north to America for the last two spooky creatures.
We were eating our sandwiches inside the car in a parking area when this big bison wandered very close to us, apparently attracted to the mud puddle. We could hear its steady, heavy breathing.
We were of course thrilled but a little nervous.
They’re faster than they look too, faster than most horses.
American Bison, SD
Lastly, my own backyard. We lived on an isolated mountain top and in the summer it was hot and dry.
This mature rattlesnake, below, hung out with us one summer.
We agreed not to bother each other, and it worked out. Why did we do that? Because the rattlesnake kept the rodent population under control.
Its head is in the center of the photo below, and it is looking at you. Rattles are on the right; there are 7 or 8 or 9?
It rattled at us a couple of times that summer, but we quickly got the message.
Northern Pacific Rattlesnake, CA
There’s something so gripping and powerful about wild animals. Add to that the dark superstitions of this holiday that go back centuries, and we have ourselves a spooky Halloween.
It is always a breath of fresh air to visit Pt. Reyes in Northern California. We go once a month and it is a different and thrilling adventure every time, cycles of the season are always in play.
California Quail
Our day trip last week was a typical coastal mid-October day. It was chilly and overcast.
We hiked the path at Abbott’s Lagoon, overview seen below–way out in the distance, on the left-hand side at the horizon is a ribbon of the ocean. The sea was relatively calm that day.
With that stormy-looking sky and low cloud cover, there were many raptors on the ground, waiting on the thermals for their lift-off.
This red-tailed hawk, below, perched patiently on a very small post.
An osprey was busy with its catch of the day on a fence, below. We have never seen osprey here so this was a treat. We kept expecting it to take off, but then our optics had that answer–the osprey was preoccupied with a fish in its talons.
Ravens, too, are usually high above us, cawing loudly about one thing or another. But that day, there were several grounded and in our midst. One of my favorite birds, the ravens were especially gorgeous with their shiny black feathers.
The coastal chaparral had advanced into its winter state since last month’s visit. Neither the coyote bush nor the lupine had any more flowers, but the bushes were animated with all the usual birds who hide underneath.
The California quail, this male below in his sentinel position, had a fluttery flock of young ones hidden below among the woody limbs. They were hidden but not quiet. The young ones will soon learn the importance of being quiet, but for now they had dad on the post keeping an eye out.
The white-crowned sparrows, ubiquitous along the Abbotts Lagoon trail, were dapper in their plumage. These individuals on the coast are year-round but further inland we’re seeing more of them arriving to winter with us, they come from Alaska and the Rocky Mountains.
Their song melts my heart and I’m thrilled they’re here for the winter, link below.
For the last few months there have been Bewick’s wrens in a patch of coyote bushes near the road, and this one frequently popped out in its dogged pursuit of insects. This wren species does not occur east of the Mississippi, but we have them here in California year-round. It is a joy to watch these noisy nimble birds.
After our hike and teatime, we drove up the road to check on the elk, driving slowly so as not to miss any critters.
This coyote below, camouflaged in the landscape, was our reward.
The coyote, too, was getting a winter coat. Usually the coyotes are prowling in the tall grass and chaparral, hunting, but on this cold, sleepy day it seemed to be naptime.
We have been observing an interesting new phenomenon lately with the elk at Point Reyes. Since a recent lawsuit settlement and the departure of dairy ranches, the elk have gradually been expanding from the reserve into the abandoned ranches.
Below is a herd of female elk grazing beside the open gate of a defunct dairy ranch.
This tule elk bull below, who doesn’t care anything about human lawsuits, was focused on keeping his harem together. The last two months they have been bugling a lot in the middle of their rutting season–a time for them to attract females and warn other males of their dominance. But the rutting season is waning now.
What a joy to see it all: the raptors rearranging their day with the lack of thermals, the elk discovering a bigger space, and the birds and mammals going about their business of resting and hunting and raising their young.
Soon the elephant seals will be making their way here from the Aleutian Islands in Alaska and the migrating shorebirds will be arriving for the winter too.
And when we come back next month, we will have our winter coats on.
As a devoted fan of wildlife on earth, I am excited to share beautiful art depicting wildlife in ancient Egypt. We humans have been revering our wild animals for centuries.
Statue of Horus, Edfu, Egypt
Living in the land of the fertile Nile Valley, ancient Egyptians acquired an in-depth knowledge of the animals that surrounded them. Later, they transferred these animals and their characteristics to the divine realm; eventually the gods were taking animal forms.
Aside from wildlife, Ancient Egyptians also had pets, a big topic for a later date. But here is an interesting article about their pets, link below, and a cat display we saw at a U.S. touring Ramses II exhibit in 2022.
(All other photos are from an Egypt tour we made last year.)
The oldest pyramid complex in Egypt is called Saqqara and is an ancient necropolis dating back to the Third Dynasty (approximately 4,600 years ago). It was the seat of government and worship prior to Giza.
Saqqara Pyramid, Egypt
Inside Saqqara structures there are numerous tombs with limestone walls (photograph below) displaying carvings of animals, fish, birds, insects, vegetation and everyday scenes with people in hunting, herding and farming scenes. The small, catacomb rooms have walls and walls with floor-to-ceiling carvings. I have just included one tiny part of one wall here.
This is a hippo (left), in an underwater Nile River scene, accompanied by several different fish species including a Nile carp. We see underwater plants here too. Hippos were once common in the Nile River but there are none today.
In addition to these everyday scenes, animals were also prevalent in the characters of their writing language, aka hieroglyphs.
Below are six photos of hieroglyphs with animals used as symbols.
This is a wall, below, in King Ramses IV’s tomb. These are funerary texts intended to guide the pharaoh through the afterlife.
Cobras, on the top row, stand out. They symbolize divine and royal protection, sovereignty, and the power to ward off enemies and chaos in the afterlife. Also of notable interest here (below, lower third) is the snake between the two flanks of women–one head with a very long, curling body. Their snakes must have been very long!
There is a menagerie of animals below the cobras in the small hieroglyphs. This close-up, below, shows a hare (top left) and a vulture (bottom left).
These hieroglyphs, below, are photographed from a wall of the Kom Ombo Temple. Animal symbols here include the head of a cow, cobra, vulture, two lion heads and a viper.
This is an outdoor wall at Karnak Temple covered with hieroglyphs (below). The carvings, which have survived for millennia, tell of battle scenes, religious rituals and gods, providing a rich glimpse into ancient Egyptian culture and history. Animals are prominent.
As in most hieroglyphs, there were multiple meanings applied to the symbolic characters.
For example, carvings of bees could mean the words for beekeeper and honey. But in this carving, below, the bees are paired with two sedge plants, symbolizing the unification of Lower Egypt (bee) with Upper Egypt (sedge), a central theme in ancient Egypt. In the center is an ankh, symbol of life.
Bee hieroglyph, Karnak pillar, Egypt
In addition to hieroglyphs, individual animals were also highlighted, always as a symbol.
Inside King Tut’s tomb (below) in the same chamber as his sarcophagus, is a painted mural showing 12 baboons–one baboon for each hour, representing the 12 hours of the night. The baboons, honored as divine sentinels of the netherworld, are escorting the Boy King to the afterlife. The upper left-hand side also displays a black scarab representing the sun god in his form of rebirth.
Additionally, animals depicted in tombs or other art were often half-man and half-beast, indicating the animal was expressed as a god or royal symbol. Ancient Egyptians combined the power of the animal with the intellect of a human.
The largest example of this is the Great Sphinx in Giza, a massive limestone statue famous for its lion’s body and human head. The lion symbolized strength and kingship.
Below is a half-man half-ibis representing the god Thoth, deity of wisdom, writing, science, magic, and the moon.
Thoth in Temple of Horus, Edfu
Also visible in the (above) photograph are hieroglyph carvings of falcons and a jackal, ibis, and viper.
In addition to carvings and wall writings there were many animals honored in jewelry, statues, door lintels, ceilings, sarcophagi and more.
The sarcophagus below, an exhibit at the Grand Egyptian Museum, has some of the most elegant carvings I have ever seen. It is the Sarcophagus of Nesptah belonging to Nes-Ptah, a noble and high-ranking priest and an influential son of the Mayor of Thebes, Montumhat. It is from the 26th Dynasty, around 2,500 years ago.
It is made of diorite, a very hard stone, and decorated with hieroglyphic texts from the Book of the Dead.
Human/animal gods as well as hieroglyphs cover Nes-Ptah’s beautiful resting place.
We will close with animal art in my favorite tomb, the Tomb of Seti located in the Valley of the Kings in Luxor, Egypt.
Join me as we head down into the tomb of Pharaoh Seti I of the Nineteenth Dynasty (approximately 3,200 years ago).
I could’ve stayed down here for days, in this cosmic chamber of peace and grandeur with its richly decorated rooms.
My very favorite is Room J (above) with its depiction of circumpolar stars and constellations on the vaulted ceiling. Amazingly, this is a display of the ancient Egyptian understanding of the cosmos.
The red dots, painted with red ochre, indicate these are rough sketches. They are construction marks used by the ancient Egyptian artists and in an unfinished state. The standard duration for the mummification process was 70 days; then the tomb had to be secured, and sometimes deadlines could not be met.
Today we looked at humans from thousands of years ago and the art and stories and values and reverences important to them. They used animals as a means of communication. What a pleasure it is to share a small bit of that here with you today.
We have had rainy days recently in northern California, and I heard two different ribbiting toads in the woods on my morning walk. It got me thinking about all my friends the amphibians and the beauty of frogs.
There are over 6,000 species of frogs in the world. We’ll look today at a few of my favorites.
Amer. Green Tree Frog, GA
Although some frog species live in frozen tundra and deserts, most of the world’s frogs live in tropical forests in freshwater swamps and swampy habitats.
A frog breathes through its skin, so if a frog is not wet, it cannot breathe. It also needs water to reproduce. Interestingly, a frog doesn’t even drink, it absorbs water directly through the skin.
In California, a typically dry place, there are comparatively few frog species. The California Dept. of Fish and Wildlife states there are 51 amphibian species and about half of those are frogs and toads. (Brazil has 1,175.)
We do, however, have significant winter precipitation in northern California, yielding frogs and toads during the rainy months.
Our most common frog is the Pacific tree frog aka the chorus frog (Pseudacris regilla). It is a very small frog, pictured below, about two inches (5 cm) long.
For several years Athena and I collected tadpoles in a water-filled ditch near our rural home. Around April the ditch water would start to evaporate as the rains subsided and the California sun burned longer.
So we made up a large tray in our backyard with water, rocks and dead leaves and transferred the tadpoles before the ditch water disappeared. We watched our tray daily as dozens of tadpoles grew.
One of the most miraculous things about frogs is their metamorphosis.
PTF tadpole with legs, No. California
While still in their birthplace, the ditch, the unformed Pacific tree frogs were jelly-like clusters of eggs. Not long after that the eggs had hatched and reached their larval stage: tadpoles. There were hundreds of tiny black dots, each one swimming with a tiny tail. Every day there were more.
Then the tadpoles grew bigger and eventually tiny legs emerged, first in back and then in front.
When the tadpole is still very young, they have both the tail and legs.
The photo below demonstrates both stages on one leaf: one tadpole with legs (left) and the one on the right who has not yet grown legs.
Eventually the froglet’s body completely absorbs the tail, and before long a fully formed, tailless frog hops away.
Pacific Tree Frog adult, No. Calif.
Frog vocalizations are also an exciting phenomenon. If you are near a pond or languid water source during their mating season, especially at night, it can be gloriously deafening.
For us in coastal California it’s a chorus of ribbits, hence their name chorus frog. It usually happens in January and February.
Widespread in the eastern U.S. are the spring peepers (one seen below) who announce the beginning of spring with shrill, repetitive “peep-peep-peep” calls. Pseudacris crucifer.
Spring Peeper Frog, WI
Only males make the sounds, to attract mates. They have vocal sacs that expand and deflate to create their sound. The link below is a 21-second video of a male inflating his vocal sacs.
In tropical climates, there are numerous frog species.
This painted reed frog (below) we found in Zambia is the most colorful frog I’ve ever seen. It’s not poisonous.
Across the globe, we had a chance to observe two poison dart frog species in a Costa Rican rainforest on a birding trip. These frogs are diurnal.
There were two teenage brothers in our group (accompanying their birder parents). They were amateur herpetologists, and they were impressively adept at finding frogs and lizards, which I found thrilling.
The boys were bold and experienced in turning over many moldy logs, rocks and leaves that I never would have touched, and came up with many cool lizards and the green-and-black poison dark frog (Dendrobates auratus), below.
If the poison dart frog toxin gets into your bloodstream, it can make your heart stop. But if you don’t touch it or eat it you are fine, which is the behavior we chose.
Poison dart frogs absorb toxins from their diet (mostly ants) and that’s how the frog becomes toxic.
La Selva Rainforest, Costa Rica
We had the most fun with the strawberry poison dart frog (Oophaga pumilio).
We found a place in a forest where a ranger had told us we might find it. By this time our little group was gone, but Athena and I were emboldened by the boys and had set out to find this dazzling tiny frog.
We had to quietly, slowly, carefully walk through a mucky low-grass field that was also a mosquito haven. After each step there followed an ankle-level mosquito cloud. We waited to see if any little red frog hopped out of the way.
We found one!
Strawberry Poison Dart Frog, Costa RicaStrawberry Poison Dart Frog, Costa Rica
Frogs in psychedelic colors and patterns, tadpole bodies that grow legs and absorb tails, ballooning face sacs, and a nighttime cacophony of spring reverie–an incredible creature we have here on earth.
All that talk last week about the Egyptian falcon god got me thinking about all the wild falcons in this world. No wonder the ancient Egyptians revered this powerful bird. Today we will focus on three falcon species that most of you have probably never seen.
The peregrine falcon, below, is almost certain to be the most familiar to many readers. It has been clocked as the fastest bird in the world.
Peregrine Falcon
Widespread on all continents except Antarctica, falcons are extremely swift and agile flyers, known for their rapid dives and quick aerial chases. With small, compact bodies, long wings and keen vision, they are formidable hunters.
Worldwide there are about 60 species in the Falcon family (Falconidae).
The three falcon species highlighted below are all native to Belize.
Bat Falcon Falco rufigularis
We were visiting a Mayan ruin in Belize called Caracol, stood atop the Caana pyramid, seen below.
Standing 140 feet (43m) above ground gave us height advantage, and on both ends of the pyramid we were actually in the tree canopy. Heaven for a birder.
Just to our right, this Yucatan howler monkey lazily ate figs and watched us.
Many raptors joined us up there on the Mayan “sky palace”, including this bat falcon, below.
You see the bird (center) on its perch, typical for bat falcons–a high, open snag where it can launch aerial attacks on prey.
They hunt bats, birds, reptiles, rodents, large insects and invertebrates. Males and females differ slightly but in general it’s about 9-12 inches long (23-30cm).
This is a nice close-up and shows the distinctive short and rounded head for which falcons are known.
Watching this bat falcon deftly cruise around us made me realize I was glad I was such a big mammal and not a bat. Their flight is efficient and purposeful.
2. Laughing Falcon Herpetotheres cachinnans
Only found in Central and South America, the laughing falcon was fairly easy to spot with its distinctive black eye mask.
They often perch, like you see below, while hunting prey. They have many distinctive vocalizations and we heard this species often in the forest, but it didn’t really sound much like a “laugh.”
They feed mainly on snakes including large and venomous ones; also lizards, rodents, bats and fish. It is 18-22 inches (45-56cm) long.
3. Orange-breasted Falcon Falco deiroleucus
This falcon is a rare bird, listed as Near Threatened, and we had to work harder to spot this one. They nest in steep cliffs in tropical mature forests, a habitat that is quickly disappearing.
Our guide drove us in the van, pictured below, up to Pine Mountain Ridge in the rainforests of western Belize not far from the border of Guatemala. Our only goal was the orange-breasted falcon, one of the rarest falcons in the world.
After a long and bumpy ride, we headed for an area near a waterfall where our guide was quite certain we would see one. They breed here.
But the fog was so thick we could not see the waterfall–only heard it. And it was so wet out that there was not one single bird anywhere.
It was our last day in this region and we would not be coming back this way. Our guide had grown up nearby and spoke of the lifting fog as a fact. If we waited, he promised, the fog would lift and we would see the falcon. He said he’d never been up here when he hadn’t seen it. We were in a group of eight and voted to wait until the fog lifted (it was unanimous).
We were on a remote ridge in thick fog and had to stay together as a group for safety reasons. We could not see anything ten feet in front of us and the limestone and granite cliffs had sharp drop-offs.
Two caretakers, a couple, lived in a small dwelling on the property; the woman showed us her humble handmade crafts while we waited. (Photo at end.)
After nearly three hours, the fog lifted and we saw the waterfall. Thousand Foot Falls, the highest waterfall in Belize at 1,600 ft. (488 m).
But still no falcon. And now it was time to leave.
We began reluctantly and dejectedly boarding the van when the guide, who had been listening intently, called out “I just heard it!”
We quickly, somewhat spastically, tumbled off the van and at last we heard the falcon’s “kak-kak-kak.”
Almost like magic, the orange-breasted falcon landed on a limb several hundred feet away.
Cameras and binoculars were raised in a flurry, and the majestic falcon posed for several minutes, then disappeared over the ridge.
Falcons have been enchanting humans for thousands of years with their exquisite prowess. I hope they continue to soar this earth controlling pest populations, maintaining ecological balance, and giving some of us a thrill.
On a grand Egyptian adventure last year, we had the joy of visiting many ancient temples. Let’s skip over to Egypt and take a look at Horus.
Photo courtesy of Univ. of Chicago
The Temple of Horus is one of the most well-preserved monuments of ancient Egypt and is the second largest temple in the country (after Karnak). It reflects a blend of ancient Egyptian and Greek traditions from the Ptolemaic era.
It is located on the west bank of the Nile River in the ancient city of Edfu. A bus transported us from our river cruise boat through Edfu (seen below), population 60,000, to the temple complex.
Edfu, Egypt
Construction for the great temple of Edfu was begun by Ptolemy III on August 23, 237 BC.
It is rare that the exact date of construction is known on a structure that is over 2,000 years old–only the beginning of a list of extraordinary features of this temple.
The date is known because there are writings (hieroglyphs) everywhere on the inside of the temple telling many stories including the date when construction began. It was built 2,082 years ago and constructed over a period of 180 years.
It was dedicated to Horus, the falcon-headed sky god, considered the protector of the pharaohs. In ancient times the Festival of the Living Falcon was held here to celebrate the crowning of a sacred falcon and symbolize the renewal of the pharaoh’s kingship.
Graphic courtesy Wikipedia.
The monumental facade is a large sandstone wall and gateway, referred to as a pylon by Egyptologists. It is approximately 120 feet high (37m).
In the photo below I am standing in awe (foreground far right, blue shirt).
This is the top of the pylon, below.
In the center is a prominent winged sun disk representing divine protection and royal power. There are also numerous scenes carved into the wall showing the pharaoh Ptolemy XII smiting his enemies and performing religious rituals.
It is flanked by two large falcon statues.
The falcon pair stand guard at the entry, each one carved long ago from black granite and standing approximately 10 feet tall (3m). They depict the god Horus in his falcon form.
Visitors walk through the entrance into a large open courtyard. Thousands of years ago the entrance was a door of Lebanese cedar wood covered with gold and bronze.
Today thousands of tourists walk through the gate of this highly popular destination.
In the courtyard are 12 huge columns crowned with a variety of floral motifs–palm leaves, lotus and papyrus.
This photo, below, shows the towering height of the courtyard walls and one column (left foreground). The group of tourists demonstrates size perspective.
The hieroglyphs tell stories of religious, mythological, and architectural beliefs and rituals of the Ptolemaic period.
This column, photo below, features the two mythical gods Horus (L) and Set (R) who had a mythical battle. The temple walls are covered with scenes and texts from the “Sacred Drama” of their conflict, commemorating Horus’s triumph over his uncle, Set.
The detail on these carvings is astounding. Originally they were painted in bright colors.
This is another carving of Set, below. The battle between Horus and Set is a core story in ancient Egyptian mythology.
This photo below of the courtyard shows the back side of the pylon and the aforementioned floral-topped columns.
This relief, below, shows Horus (on L) and Hathor (on R) and refers to the annual Festival of the Sacred Marriage. It celebrated the sacred marriage of Horus of Edfu and Hathor of Dendera.
In ancient times it was a 15-day festival including flotillas on the Nile. At the temple there was a public celebration, sacred rites and rituals, feasting and rejoicing. It was a marvelous festival celebrating fertility and prosperity and occurred every year.
The Temple of Horus had many other rooms and passageways: two hypostyle halls (i.e. rooms with columns supporting a roof), a Court of Offerings, a Vestibule and Sanctuary, side chapels and chambers.
There was once a library called the House of Books. Hieroglyph inscriptions describe chests of books and large leather rolls containing various temple literature like liturgical texts, manuscripts with the temple’s building plans, incantations and administrative documents.
There were 13 chapels and additional side chambers. One of the inner chambers was a laboratory where perfumes, incense, and ointments were made; the recipes are engraved on the walls.
Carved figures in the passageway ceilings, photo below, are over 40 feet (12m) high. How did ancient artisans create these intricate carvings so high off the ground?
Briefly, they worked from the top down. First they built the stone walls and roof and set them in place, then filled the structure with sand and rubble. The rubble was then used as scaffolding for the relief-carving stage, and gradually, in increments, it was removed until all the carvings were done.
The vulture in that relief symbolizes protection, and the beautiful blue paint is a recent result of a joint Egyptian-German mission to clean and restore the original vibrant colors that were obscured for centuries.
The activities I have highlighted here were pagan, but in 391 AD the Roman Empire put a ban on non-Christian worship. Many of the ancient reliefs were destroyed by religious fanatics.
Eventually sand, silt and mud buried the temple for centuries until 1860 when French Egyptologist Auguste Mariette discovered it and excavated. The obliteration by sand for centuries is what helped preserve the temple.
We all have our stories to tell–every century, every generation. How fortunate today that we have the ability to interpret and witness the ancient Egyptian story told here in all its elegant beauty.
Towards the end of summer when the Northern California landscapes are tinder brown and we hope for a new rainy season ahead, something wonderful happens at Point Reyes. The elk start their bugling.
We have to drive through much of the park to get to the elk reserve. On the way, there are many wild sightings to enjoy.
California Quail, male. (Callipepla californica)
The wild amaryllis, aka naked ladies, are blooming. They give a bright pink highlight to the hillsides and the heady scent of bubble gum. On a hot day you can even smell them from a moving car.
We don’t have blue jays in the western United States, but we do have their distant cousin the California scrub jay, seen below. Aphelocoma californica.
Ravens, turkey vultures, northern harriers, yellowthroats, wrentits, California quail, white-crowned sparrows and a few other bird species joined us that late-August day.
Below is a red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis).
We are always on the lookout for wildlife but have to be especially sharp-eyed this time of year when many critters blend into the earth-toned landscapes. We spotted this camouflaged coyote (below) moving at a nice clip.
People who are accustomed to rain year-round are often surprised by our brown landscapes. But for as long as I’ve lived here, 40+ years, it’s always been like this. In about two months the rains will start and if we’re lucky they will continue until March or April. There are, however, more droughts now and threats of wildfires are prominent in this changing climate.
Although the dairy cows at Point Reyes are domestic ranch animals, it is always fun to see them. They bring a pastoral beauty to the hillsides.
Recently a contentious lawsuit brought by environmental groups was settled and dairy ranches at Point Reyes are being phased out of the park after nearly 200 years of ranching.
We paid attention to the cows more than usual, knowing they will be gone soon.
Just as we were photographing the cows–so picturesque with Tomales Bay in the background–we were instantly alerted to the distinctive high-pitched scream of a bull (male) elk. He was miles away but on this windy section of the peninsula, the sound gusted our way. Off we went.
There are roughly 300 individuals on this Tule Elk Reserve. It is the largest tule elk population in California. The reserve covers approximately 2,900 acres (1,174 hectares).
Cervus canadensis nannodes, or tule elk, are the smallest of the four subspecies of elk native to North America that still exist today.
This is only the beginning of the rutting (breeding) season. At this juncture the bulls are very busy bugling, showing dominance, and gathering the harem.
Below is a harem, all females. Pacific Ocean in the background.
Eventually there will be mating and sometime in October the rutting season will end. In spring the calves will be born.
On the day we were here we witnessed a lot of bugling and that was all. Depending on how far advanced the rutting season is males can be head butting, antler crashing and exhibiting other displays of aggression.
This bull, below, was very worked up, pacing, and within the minute he was trumpeting.
Due to the wind, we ate our lunch inside the car. With all the windows open, we were serenaded by the wonderfully eerie bugling. After lunch we drove slowly, scanning and listening, and the bugling continued for an hour.
The male throws back his head, topped with that enormous antler rack, and bellows. The sound, however, is not a deep call, it is more like a scream. It is very high-pitched and completely incongruous with the size and fury of the beast.
Below is a YouTube link of tule elk bulls bugling in a different California park.
Fresh air, wild animals, seasonal cycles and the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean. Heavenly.
Jet Eliot 