Hermits Don't Make Good Friends

We've been back in California since mid September. That puts us here nearly six months. You know how many old friends we've called since our return? We can count them on one hand and still have three fingers left over. Isn't that odd? So it's really interesting when we run into friends we know well, and have to admit that we've been here that long without calling them.

We had that happen just the other day.
We were hiking in Pogonip on Saturday. The rains have brought out some fine new flowers and fungus. We walked the oak-filled canyon, listening to a symphony of bird songs, and photographing cup fungus and flowering trillium.
On this rare occasion there was a couple hiking along behind us. They didn't have a camera, and weren't stopping every few minutes to photograph something. So, while I was bent over photographing this beautiful iris, they passed us by. I watched them walk on ahead disappearing behind trees as the path curved and bent its way through the canyon up toward the big meadow.
We photographed two coyotes in this meadow last month. It's a big beautiful expanse of coastal prairie that overlooks Monterey Bay. I'm always full of excited anticipation when we approach this part of the park. There's a particular snag that I expect to see a Golden Eagle in. It hasn't happened yet, but it's where my eyes go as soon as the meadow opens before us.

On this particular day, the couple who had passed us was now just below that snag, and two people walking in the opposite direction down toward the canyon had stopped them. I could tell from their animated hand gestures and the way they all turned and looked over toward the bay that something interesting was in meadow. Soon enough, the two people moved on down the trail towards us leaving the couple staring out. I could hardly wait for them to tell us the news. When they approached, we were surprised and delighted to see that it was a very dear old friend B and her daughter L. We've known B for more than 25 years, so of course we ran and hugged. B said, "Hey you guys, I heard you were back, how are you? There's a bobcat back up there in the meadow."

There are always those moments in life when you are compelled to make a quick decision. The brain doesn't even register the conflict and consider the pros and cons with any deliberation. It just acts. I knew I should have stayed to talk. This is an old friend we haven't seen in a while, someone we haven't called since we've been back, and here we were running into them in the middle of this meadow. But instead, I just say, "Hey, so good to see you well, I gotta go and photograph that cat. Sorry, I can't talk." And, then, seriously, I turned and ran into the meadow without looking back.
Roger stayed and chatted a bit, but it was pretty obvious I wasn't going to return. So our friend and her daughter moved on down the trail. Roger joined me. He watched the bobcat through the binoculars, entranced by its beautiful white markings on the back of those black-tipped ears. We stayed and watched it hunt, savoring every moment of it.

I felt guilty afterward, wishing I had stayed a minute longer with B and L, and been more amiable. I guess hermits really don't make very good friends, do they?

Wordless Wednesday: The Trail

We walk through the oak forest to the redwoods. Before, between, and beyond are meadows where the wild things roam.

Wordless Wednesday: The Bobcat Edition

Definitely embiggen these photos. You will be glad you did.

1. Soon after we saw the bobcat on the trail right in front of us, Roger whistled very lightly. It turned to look at us.
2. Then, we all headed down the trail together. Bobcat ahead of us, unwary.
3. I whispered, Hello bobcat, very quietly. It turned and looked at us again.
4. We watched it leave the trail, turn right and walk into the meadow, heading off into some tall grass and bushes. (If you click on this pic, you'll see the Santa Cruz boardwalk in the distant background. Roller coaster is off to upper right. This is why most people come to Santa Cruz.)
5. Suddenly the bobcat pounced quickly on something in the bushes.
6. With hardly any obvious effort it had burrowing ground squirrel in its mouth.
7. It walked off to enjoy its lunch. We continued down the trail.
8. Yes, we know we are very lucky.

A Preview for Wordless Wednesday

I said to Roger just the other day, when we were walking in the Pogonip, "Every time I look down across that meadow I think I'm going to see a bobcat."

Then, on Monday, there it was.

What's Coming

The weather has been unseasonably warm here on California's central coast. Some crazy high pressure system has parked over us (again), and we are warm and dry. Sure, it feels good deep into our winter bones, but we know how we'll pay for it this summer-- with water rationing. We've been reading stories about it everyday in the local paper. It's hard not to love these balmy days, blue skies, temps in the 70s, but we need rain. Bad.
We've lived here long enough to remember when "northern" California was considered wet, wet like Oregon wet. Roger was born in this part of California; he has spent much of his 66 years within 50 miles of here. The coastal redwoods here are at least twenty times older than he. They thrive in the coastal foggy damp environment. That dampness is long gone. Now we are watching the parched land dry and crack. Day after week after month after year.
On these beautiful sunny days we walk the Pogonip, a 640 acre piece of land covered in redwoods, oaks, and coastal prairie. Here the red-shouldered hawk cries out to its mate. We watch as she flies over, and they fly away together. The hummingbird leaves a tippy top branch and darts above us where it hovers and watches every move we make.
Off in every meadow, especially the ones we don't ever see, the coyotes, bobcats, and cougars roam. They see us, so think they know what's coming.

All photos taken last Wednesday January 28th.

Our Pogonip Hike

We took a walk on Monday in a place called Pogonip with our good friend and fellow blogger Tara. It's another one of those places that we should have walked when we lived here, but didn't. We did a lot of biking back in the day, so now we are discovering wonderful hiking trails in so many places.
Pogonip is a 640 acre park of open meadows, woodlands, and creeks. There are eight miles of hiking trails. We picked one trail, the Pogonip Creek trail, and headed out. It's been fairly dry here on the central coast, so we did not expect to see any water in the creek. We were rather pleasantly to surprised to both see and hear the water. As we left the dry meadows and headed down toward the shadow of tall trees along the creek, it occurred to us that we were walking in the redwoods again. I have to admit it's always thrilling to walk among the coastal giants. There is something about a tree that is hundreds of years old that helps put the news of the current day in proper perspective. It's not that the news is not important, it's that no matter how important it is, it will all be dust long before any of these giants fall, merely a tree ring noting a dry season.
We walked out from the shadowy creek and up into the bright light of the meadow. There were butterflies there, and surprisingly they weren't monarchs. I thought we might have seen these before, but I didn't know what they were. I photographed three of them and did some research when I got home. Turns out they are Common Buckeyes. Somehow calling these beautiful creatures common seems wrong, I find them uncommonly lovely.
It was a perfect day. The sound of a red-tailed hawk came piercingly from a nearby treetop. The sky was cloudlessly blue and the temperature was warm enough for Roger to have hiked in a short-sleeved tee-shirt, and flip-flops without socks (of course). We only saw two other people on the trail. They both reminded me why Santa Cruz sometimes has a reputation for a bit of looniness. One guy came up out of the creek area, completely off trail. He had a bit of that wild unstable look in his eyes. We were relieved that he chose to go in the opposite direction from ours. Shortly afterwards, another man came from the other direction on the trail towards us. He was absolutely bare-assed naked, except for a pack on his back, and shoes. He said hello. We said hello back. I didn't photograph him, so you'll have to use your imagination.

Would it surprise you if I told you that he bore the brunt of our jokes for the rest of the day. We were merciless I tell you. Merciless.