Sharing our Space with Nature

My house was built in 1901, back before they put in the freeways and strip malls that now surround my neighborhood. The animals and plants that lived where my home now stands have long moved away and my house has seen generations on generations of visitors over these past 100+ years. Newer homes and buildings in the area have nearly eliminated all of the open space around me, so I make an extra effort to make my yard welcoming to the wildlife that has no where else to go. When I moved in, I removed the concrete covering the backyard as soon as I could and planted flowering and fruiting plants, and I put out feeders and sources of water. It's a small, but very pleasant yard and I have frequent visits from birds and squirrels. I have also many times seen an opossum in the yard, hunting for snails and rotting fruit.

Most of the time, the wildlife stays in the yard, but occasionally I get a few unexpected house guests. A couple of times in the late afternoon, when I leave the back door of the house open to let in a breeze a hummingbird has lost its way and flow into my living room, confused by the ceiling light there. They eventually were coaxed back out by shutting off the living room light and turning on and off a sequence of lights that leads them back to the door. The same trick often works with a bee or moth.

Another guest that finds the kitchen especially interesting is the Virginia Opossum. They sneak in if I leave the door open in the evening to feast on the cat food there. My guess is they have done this on several occasions, but I've only caught them a couple of times when they didn't escape quickly enough.

Opossums love to eat just about everything, but they're particularly fond of cat food and sweets. Last year, when my basement door wasn't latching properly, a set of triplets moved into the basement for a rainy week. I have a projector and some chair set up down there so we can watch movies. One evening I was down there alone in the dark watching a movie and I saw three little figures crawl down a ledge one by one, pass right by me feet, and make their way to the open door. I later found that they had devoured a full tub of peanut butter cups that was inadvertently left down there.

In spite of the mischief these creatures may get in to, we are truly lucky that they come to stay in our neighborhoods and live with us in harmony. They are our reminder that there are still wild and natural places and things in this world.


"In wildness is the preservation of the world."
--Henry David Thoreau

Consumnes River Preserve

Grebe Eating Crayfish
Originally uploaded by Spike n Mouse.

I took a trip out to the Consumnes River Preserve this past weekend to see what kind of wildlife was around this time of year. I have made the trip just about every month to see how the varieties of birds in the area change and I think this time I saw very little variety. Of course in a month or so we'll start to see the migratory birds arrive again for the winter.

I took a hike along the river trail behind the visitor's center. The day started off cool and breezy but quickly became quite warm and I was sorry I forgot to bring some water with me. Along the trail on one side, there were brief glimpses of a stream but the view was mostly obscured by shrubs, vines and trees and was very shady. On the opposite side of the trail, the sun was shining brightly on cattails and wildflowers. I caught several glimpses of bees and cabbage butterflies feasting on purple and yellow flower which I couldn't identify, and dragonflies perching a top tule grass stems. Also in this area were lots of blackberry vines with fruits of green, red and purple. On the stream side of the trail, wild grape vines bore many bunches of small grapes.

Awhile down the trail I approached a larger pond area which was being fished by a great blue heron. Also swimming in the pond was this pair of pied-billed grebes, which darted into the cattails when they saw me approach but later came out in the open to resume diving. I didn't realize it at the time, but they were diving for what turns out to be their favorite meal: crawfish. In this photo you can see the grebe on the right attempting to swallow a fairly large crayfish.

At the pond's edge, I could see tiny fish and an occasional very large tadpole break the water surface. In the mud, there was mosaic of bird and mammal footprints and I believe I saw several river otter prints.

I continued along the trail and came across and area that was blanketed in cotton, like fuzzy snow. Leaves and ground and branches were all coated in the fuzzy white stuff, which I assume was created by some of the cottonwood trees. Also in the area I happened upon a hole in the ground with hornets buzzing in and out and was thankful that I saw it before I stepped on it.

I crossed a small bridge over a stream that connected the pond on the left with another pond on the right hand side and continued down the trial a ways until thirst got the better of me, and since I had no map or indication of where the trail was headed, I turned around to head back. Then I saw what I had missed the first time around: crayfish crawling across the open mud. This was the first time I had seen crayfish that weren't in a pot or on a plate and I watched them for quite awhile as they crawled, swam, and dug into burrows in the mud.

I backtracked to my car and stopped to photograph a few more dragonflies in the parking lot before heading out to an area down the road where I had seen quite a few migrating ducks, geese and swans last winter. I had seen fewer and fewer birds here as the year progressed and this time there was practically nothing there. I did catch a glimpse of a Northern Harrier diving in the air over the now-dry wetlands, but he soon flew out of range of my camera. I drove further down the road to where I had watched a kestrel and a white-tailed kite hunt from power lines earlier in the year, and had seen in separate occassions a red-tailed hawk and a kingfisher in the same area, but this time only a lone mourning dove was present.

I stopped to photograph a monarch butterfly which had rested on a milkweed plant, then turned to look on the other side of the road, where several curious cattle were watching me.

I was pretty hot and thirsty at this point so I rolled up the windows and cranked up the AC and headed out to the road to find someplace to buy a giant soda.

Getting in touch with nature

During the week I am a cog in the machine of a large high tech firm, working in a climate controlled building insulated from the outside world. The little bit of nature on my desk consists of a tiny bonsai tree and a couple of my nature photos on my cubicle wall. It's gray and quiet and consistent here and can at times lull you into a type of trance that is similar to that reflected in the eyes of a lion sitting in a cage at the zoo. Fortunately, I have the weekends to regain my connection with the natural world.

When I lived in Oregon, nature was always around me, but in the Bay Area of California, people have pushed much of the native wildlife up into the hills where the most expansive and expensive properties sit and look down upon the seething masses of people who live in their closely packed houses in the valley below.

In areas where the houses still have a little bit of backyard green, some wildlife holdouts have found their niche, nesting in shade trees and attics and garages and feasting on fruit from our trees, garbage and food we leave out for our pets. Usually the relationship is mutually beneficial, such as when we set out feeders and for birds which also enjoy eating the bugs from our garden. There are times, however, when our lives and their lives clash.
That is where the wildlife centers come in.

I found out about wildlife rehabilitation first hand two years ago thanks to my cat, who brought into the house a young finch. The bird was still alive and I managed to get it free from the cat's grip before it was able to do damage. I kept it overnight in a small cage and looked for help on the web the next day. I had heard about centers that take care of larger animals like bobcats and eagles and marine mammals, but wasn't sure about small birds. Luckily, I found a center that would take even the commonest little finch in and rehabilitate it.

The Wildlife Center of Silicon Valley is located next to Penitencia Creek in San Jose, on the road to Alum Rock Park. The WCSV is open 7 days a week and cares for a wide variety of injured and orphaned wildlife, from Red-Tailed Hawks to Eastern Gray Squirrels to House Finches. The center does not allow tours of the wildlife because every effort is made to rehabilitate the animals to the point that they can be released back to their homes in the wild. What a great idea. I brought in my little finch and was given a phone number and a tracking ID should I want to find out the status of the tiny patient. Then I decided I wanted to find out more about the place so I attended an orientation session the next week. I was so impressed, I signed up as a volunteer on the spot and started my first day of work that weekend.

Let me say up front that I had limited to no experience caring for wildlife. I witnessed a couple of failed baby bird rescues when I was young and I have had my share of pets (dogs, cats, chickens, rabbits, ducks, hamsters, mice, and tropical fish) and a few "pet" lizards and frogs, but had no veterinary experience. Fortunately, the wildlife center provides on the job training. There are some experienced staff on hand all the time to help with the examinations and regular training classes are offered to those who want to learn more. After 2 years on the volunteer staff, I have learned how to clean and bandage wounds, how to splint legs, how to tube-feed a dove and various other animal care activities. Then there's the cleaning, and there is so much to clean: food dishes, towels used in the cages and carriers, cages, carriers, tabletops, syringes and nipples, floors, …. It's hard work, but once in a while you get a chance to see the rewards: when you release an animal back to its wildlife home. That's what makes all of the work worthwhile.