Last year on Earth Day Roger and I signed up to take a Marine Mammal Stranding Network training. We were placed on the email list and were sent periodic email updates. But personnel changes meant a delay in training, and there wasn't one until this past Saturday. Here's our report.
It was interesting, but far too disorganized to be of much value. We spent the first hour talking about how to fill out Level A Responder forms. It's the report that is ultimately submitted to the NOAA Fisheries. The presenter was very knowledgeable and enthusiastic, but not particularly adept at explaining why these forms are important and what we, as network volunteers, should be looking for to be able to adequately fill the forms out, when we observe stranded animals. The second hour was more interesting and probably should have preceded the first, because it introduced us to the mammals we might encounter (seals, sea lions, dolphins, porpoises, whales) when called to check out a stranding. We did learn a few tricks, like how to tell the difference between a male California Sea Lion and a female Steller Sea Lion (which can be the same size)-- the male has the scrotum. How we're going to get close enough to see that is a trick they did not cover.
We learned that most of the work volunteers do is to identify dead mammals, approximate the decomposition level, try to determine if the mammal has died as a result of human activity, take a gps reading, and then someone determines what to do with the carcass:
1. Left at site
2. Buried
3. Rendered
4. Towed
5. Sunk
6. Frozen for Later Examination
7. Landfill
8. Other
We were not told who determines the disposition of the animal, or how that determination is made. If the stranded animal is a baby harbor seal which accounts for most of the calls, volunteers would take shifts making sure humans, dogs, and other predators are kept away. Baby harbor seals are often left onshore for considerable periods of time while mom is out hunting. They are not stranded.
If I could redesign the training I would present photographs of stranded animals, with examples of different stages of decomposition. I would also show pics of the results of human activity, netting, propeller wounds, etc. Then, I would use those examples to show how to fill out the paperwork. Seems a more logical approach.
When we first signed on to the volunteer email list, a note was sent about a stranded baby harbor sea, last July. We were not "trained" yet, but we went down to photograph the baby from an appropriate distance. We assumed that at some point, if the mother did not return the seal would be rescued and brought someplace for care and rehabilitation. Turns out, the stranding network doesn't do many rescues. There aren't enough facilities to handle the number of mammals that are stranded. I understand that that baby died. I had hoped that part of what we would learn is how to assist in rescues, but that's not the plan, unless an animal can be safely returned to the sea.
The presenter did tell us a very wild story. All marine mammals are covered by the
Marine Mammal Protection Act. Humans are not to move, touch, or disturb the animals; not drive them back into the water; not pour water on a seal, seal lion, or sea otter; and, not try to feed them. Of course, humans don't always pay attention to rules. So sometimes they get close enough to these animals to be bitten by them. They don't often report this because in order to sustain such an injury, they have to be breaking the law. However, one woman was compelled to report being bitten by a baby harbor seal, after she contracted a marine mammal disease. The wild part of the story is that she was bitten while trying to breast feed the baby seal. Oy. There are just some things about human behavior I wish I didn't know.
P.S. When I look at seals, I have to say, it never once occurs to me that they should balance a ball on their nose. But of course, when I look at a bear, I never think, "Wow, I'd like to see that creature on a bicycle." Maybe it's just me.
1. Top photo taken at the Santa Cruz wharf where many California Sea Lions lounge. We can't see the scrotum, but we're assuming this is a male CSL.
2. The baby harbor seal we photographed last summer.
This sunset the other evening was so beautiful that I kept getting up from the dinner table to run outdoors with the camera.
...and the Oscar goes to...
periwinkle grows
early iris blooms
When we first signed on to the volunteer email list, a note was sent about a stranded baby harbor sea, last July. We were not "trained" yet, but we went down to photograph the baby from an appropriate distance. We assumed that at some point, if the mother did not return the seal would be rescued and brought someplace for care and rehabilitation. Turns out, the stranding network doesn't do many rescues. There aren't enough facilities to handle the number of mammals that are stranded. I understand that that baby died. I had hoped that part of what we would learn is how to assist in rescues, but that's not the plan, unless an animal can be safely returned to the sea.
There's a sunrise every morning. Roger and I have been around long enough to have seen 23,000 of them. In our combined 120 years we've also seen a lot of joy and sorrow, so we tend to be pretty philosophical about life. We are highly opinionated; our families find us a bit bristly, and we've been known to have a row every now and then. We stay pretty much to ourselves, have a few friends who we break bread with, but for the most part, it's just the two of us and the cat day in and day out. We enjoy each other's company immensely, and we can happily spend hours and hours in our silence and solitude. Life, for us, is almost exactly how we want it.
Twenty-three thousand sunrises and sunsets and still waiting for the best of all possible worlds. We're not hopeful, but we'll never give up.
Where once there was no winding driveway or giant foundation holes in the ground, there is now a torn up land, and plans for people who will live there.
The arrow shows you where the bobcat was standing. Now there's machinery that pushes the earth around, and trees that have been uprooted and burned. The orange peel fungus we found in December has been covered with gravel so people can drive up their driveway.
We will have new neighbors in a few months. But we so much prefer these old ones.
This the progress of our neighborhood.
When it did move, it folded its wings and tail close to its body and took this "Valentine-heart shape" that allowed it to move very quickly along the currents.
It continued to change shape as it slid silently along the sky above us.
Until it reach its destination and spread its wings to hunt once again.
We spent a fair amount of time trying to determine if the hawk was riding a thermal current or if it was ridge soaring, which is a related atmospheric phenomenon. We're including a link for you to read, so you can visualize the difference. Either way, it was fascinating to watch it ride the currents, simply hanging in the air and expending very little energy while it hunted. Between this hawk and the amorous eagles, we absolutely tweaked our necks looking up for so long, but we took it as an early Valentine's Day present, and loved every minute of it.
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We all know what natural selection means, and how it is that all living things have come to be what they are.
We see the workings of natural selection in the flash of red on the wings of a Red-winged Blackbird, and are delighted by the dazzling diplays of male plumage.
And we know why this sapsucker's bill is a perfect shape for how it obtains food.
I don't know why, but I often want to start our Friday posts with: It's been a quiet week here at Lake Wobegone. I guess because it really has been quiet--days and days with no visible horizon. The clouds and fog moved in again, and we spent most of the week under a low-hanging ceiling of uniform gray, and a view that barely took in the boundaries of our property. Yes, it's slowly driving us crazy, but we slog on-- and who would notice anyway?
I spent a good part of the week reading a fine mystery novel The Liar's Diary written by fellow blogger, Patry Francis of Simply Wait. I don't usually read mysteries, but was so pleasantly surprised and drawn in by this engrossing and interesting story. Patry keeps you guessing all the way through, and the roller coaster ride of clues, details, and intrigue makes this a truly gripping whodunit. I give it five stars***** and two thumbs up!
So, we walked and watched many water birds gather in the creek. Glad to see them in such numbers. While we watched them fly in from all directions, a coyote appeared on the other side of the creek. I thought for sure it would charge in after the birds, but it just sauntered along, until it was joined by another coyote. The two of them strolled a bit, sniffing under logs and low branches, before heading up into the hills.
It's why we walk out of our house, even on the dreariest of winter days. We look around, waiting for something to catch our eyes and pull us out from under the fog. We leave the world of news behind, of wars and tragedies, of trials and thieves, of presidential campaigns and netroots bloggers. We leave it all to come into the world where the wild things are.
datil pepper seedlings, with thumb for scale
here is one of the cherry tomato plants, complete with cherry tomatoes.
garlic. planted last fall. these shoots were up before we had snow. they went through weeks of freezing nights, down to 20F, and many days of 31F. tough plants. tasty too.
I sent an email to Julie Zickefoose on Sunday. The subject line was "Is it Crazy to Save a Bird?" If you read Julie's blog you know she has a great reputation for rehabilitating a lot of birds (and other wild creatures, including a lawn-mower-chewed box turtle). Julie knows how to do it. We don't. We don't even know how to begin. Even if we decided to intervene, how do you get a bird into the bird-cage where it will be fed and cared for? Mmm? We can't just say, "Here birdy birdy, we'll take good care of you," in the same sing-song voice we use for the cat.
We don't usually post on the weekends. It's how we acquired the "bums" part of our name. But the report by the IPCC has had us thinking and talking for two days. What can we say? We know the stakes are incredibly high, but we've come to the awful conclusion that humans won't rise to the occasion. (Sorry, we don't mean to bum you out.) We just don't think it's possible. Even a profound leader (I signed the Draft Gore petition) can not erase the six billion lives that draw on every last resource this planet has to offer. It's simply too late, and there are too many of us who want the same things.
rascally squirrel
treetop hunter waits
It is almost too much to fall back to sleep. Those cries were so close and wild, we are full of adrenaline. Doze a bit, but awaken again. The night air fills with a muffling fog, and by morning the sunrise reflects the eerie night we've had.
Soon enough, though, the fog lifts completely. It's a perfectly clear blue-sky day at our house. So we head out to the Larry Scott Memorial trail to see if we might find our friends, the amorous eagles. But when we arrive we find the trail is still covered in fog all the way to the ground. We think it is a suitably beautiful match for our foggy state. 
We see no eagles, and the tree where they often perch is barely visible until we are directly beneath it. Off in the bay we hear the gulls crying and crying, but we can't see them either. Nothing happens, but this.