Driftwood Beach

October 22, 2021 / Jet Eliot / 74 Comments

Located on the U.S. Atlantic coast, Driftwood Beach immediately strikes you as a special place. Although it is one of many beaches in Georgia’s barrier islands, it stands out for the large, toppled trees that cover the sandy landscape.

Ocean tides and storms continually shape this Jekyll Island beach. Over the years the sand has eroded; removing the foundation for the roots to take hold, causing the trees to fall over.

I visited this unusual beach last week, following a family celebration.

Wood Stork, Jekyll Island, GA

The name implies ocean-drifted wood, but the trees that dominate the sandy expanse are not actually driftwood. They are prostrate pine, oak, and palm trees. This tree below, probably once an oak, still has the rootball intact.

The nature of coastal barrier islands is protection. There are approximately 14 barrier islands along the coast of Georgia, all of them coastal landforms created by waves and tidal action. The small islands, like Jekyll Island, take the brunt of the ocean’s wrath, protecting the mainland.

Jekyll Island is only seven miles (11 km) long and 1.5 miles (2.4 km) wide. While there are some hotels and human developments from various eras, there is a handsome array of natural sand dunes, marshes and wild habitats, attracting a wide array of wildlife.

My sister Nan spotted this skink on the trail leading to Driftwood Beach.

While many of the dead trees lie on the sand, there are also some dead ones that haven’t yet fallen. Giant, whole trees are standing, but lifeless.

My sister beside this tree demonstrates how huge the dead, standing tree is. Someday it will fall, but for now it remains solidly anchored in this spot.

There were dozens of dead trees dominating the beach. It was a unique sight. Most trees remained big and strong, not broken apart, and in spite of being leafless, they retained a proud elegance in their shapely limbs and roots.

Beachgoers strolled around the trees, some climbed on the trees, some sunbathed beside them, and children built sand castles in the fine, wet sand. Some people even host weddings here.

Osprey and pelicans sailed by. Willets and sandpipers scurried on the sand and rocks, while wading birds foraged on the adjacent marsh.

Wood Stork (L) and White Ibis (immature)

Across the waterway (St. Simons Sound) you can see another barrier island, St. Simon’s Island. Through this channel, cargo ships deliver goods, primarily automobiles. The yellow, arched structure seen from Jekyll Island is a giant crane. It’s one of the first things you see when you come out of the palmetto-studded trail and look out to sea.

Crane and Shipwreck, St. Simons Sound, GA

The crane is straddling the shipwreck of the Golden Ray, a cargo ship that was carrying 4,200 cars when it capsized two years ago. The ship was improperly loaded and tipped over. Fortunately there were no fatalities, and clean-up of the shipwreck is nearly complete. The rusty heap to the right of the crane is what is left, and being cut, of the Golden Ray.

More Info: Golden Ray Wikipedia

More Info: Golden Isles of Georgia Wikipedia

We had a glorious day of ease and pleasure on Jekyll Island, watching birds, turtles, crabs, passing ships and ever-moving tides. But I’ll tell you more about this beautiful island another time.

For now, we’ll just bask in the briny air, expansive ocean, and lazing fallen trees of Driftwood Beach.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

San Francisco’s Ocean Beach

September 24, 2021 / Jet Eliot / 76 Comments

One of San Francisco’s most spacious venues is Ocean Beach, a long tract of fresh air and open skies. Today, as in centuries past, it attracts residents and tourists.

San Francisco is not the most populous city in the U.S. (it’s 17th), but it is definitely packed with people. There are almost 874,000 people on this small 47-square-mile (121 sq. km.) peninsula, making it the second most densely populated large city in the country.

When residents want to stretch out, they head for Ocean Beach. Folks of all ages can run or walk, plop down in the sand, share bonfires with friends, or sort out their congested thoughts. And you don’t have to fight for a parking space.

Cold Pacific currents arrive here from Alaska, making the waters at Ocean Beach numbingly inhospitable. With the frigid temperatures, frequent fog and strong winds, you won’t find many people in the water.

Surfers, of course, are the exception. But even the stalwart surfers, bounced around by brutal waves, wear wetsuits.

In addition to this five-mile stretch of sand, there are adjacent attractions too. The Golden Gate National Recreation Area has an extensive purview. Land’s End, the Cliff House, and Sutro Heights Park are on the northern end of the beach, while Fort Funston is at the southern end. All have stunning views and room to roam.

In the middle is the Beach Chalet restaurant, two towering windmills, and two streets leading the way to Golden Gate Park.

San Francisco’s longest beach also has a long history.

Sutro Baths was a glass-enclosed entertainment complex of numerous saltwater pools that opened in 1896.

There is an entertaining film clip that Thomas Edison made in 1897 of the Sutro Baths, at this link:

Sutro Baths Wikipedia

The ruins of the Baths are still visible today.

It was in the later 1800s when railway and trolley lines were developed, delivering visitors from the city to this remote windswept expanse of sand dunes.

This began nearly a century of animated seaside attractions at Ocean Beach.

There have been several incarnations of The Cliff House, a restaurant that first opened in 1863.

This is the Cliff House, below, last week on a foggy day. It is undergoing another reincarnation and due to re-open next year.

And over the years, two additional fun spots drew visitors at Ocean Beach: Playland, a 10-acre amusement park from 1913-1972; and Fleishhacker Pool, then one of the largest outdoor swimming pools in the world, from 1925-1971.

If you talk to San Franciscans who spent their childhood days at Playland or Fleishhacker Pool, it is a great joy to watch their eyes light up.

This is Ocean Beach and Playland in the 1930s and 1940s.

Still left over from the glory days of Playland, the Camera Obscura, one of my personal favorite Ocean Beach spots, sits on a seaside perch behind the Cliff House. It is an old-fashioned pinhole camera that you walk into; it presents live-time images of the beach and sea.

Here is a link to a post I wrote about it: Camera Obscura, San Francisco

With today’s instantly available entertainment at our fingertips, the tranquility of Ocean Beach is now the draw.

And, as it has been for centuries, the wind and fog continue to embrace us, while the waves, as always, rhythmically shape this blessed expanse of ocean and sand.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander unless otherwise specified.

A Salute to Summer

September 10, 2021 / Jet Eliot / 82 Comments

As we say farewell to summer, here is a small sample of the wildlife who entertained us these past few months. Summer provided us with a celebrated array of birds, insects, mammals and reptiles.

Pair of Common Checkerspot Butterflies, California

At the beginning of the season in May, we watched dozens of birds nesting around our property.

We found these bluebird eggs inside one of our nest boxes.

Western Bluebird Eggs in Nest Box, California

In addition to the usual resident nesters–swallows, bluebirds, juncos, chickadees, titmice, jays, towhees, wrens, and more–we hosted numerous migrant species.

Flycatchers, an often-overlooked migrant bird, were in abundance.

This Pacific-slope flycatcher mother (below, in center) vigilantly protected her nest and brood for many weeks. She chose a completely burned tree in which to nest, probably for uninterrupted visibility of predators.

Pacific-slope Flycatcher mother on nest, California

This flycatcher, like the other migrant birds, had an industrious summer routine. They arrived in May, prepared a nest and filled it with eggs; then assisted their fledglings to become strong and independent. In August they all headed back home.

On cue with the summer routine, black-headed Grosbeaks arrived, and produced young ones.

Black-headed Grosbeak (juvenile), California

The violet-green swallows arrived in April, vying with the bluebirds for nest box real estate. By July the sky was filled with soaring, acrobatic juveniles.

Violet-green Swallow on Nest Box, California

We welcomed several warbler species as well. Although we don’t have the same volume of spring migrating warblers on the west coast as the east coast or Midwest, every year we have several species who migrate through in the shoulder seasons, like this hermit warbler and orange-crowned warbler.

They come in when we turn on the yard sprinkler, a favorite summer pastime for all of us.

Hermit Warbler, female, enjoying our yard sprinkler, California

Orange-crowned Warbler enjoying our yard sprinkler, California

Throughout the summer a pair of sibling Cooper’s hawks, born here in spring, were prevalent in our backyard. I wrote about them in a previous post: Cooper’s Hawks, The Next Generation.

Their new prowess started out clumsy, but quickly became skilled, intimidating the wise and wary California quail from nesting on our property. Fortunately we saw large quail coveys with chicks all over our mountain.

California Quail, male, California. California’s state bird.

We didn’t see as many snakes this year, but we had an abundance of Western fence lizards. Now, in early September, we have lots of little pinky-sized baby lizards skittering across the dust and rocks.

Western Fence Lizard, adult male, California

Living in drought here in Northern California, we have had our difficulties with fire and smoke lately. So far, the worst fires are a couple hundred miles north of us. It is a tense and smoky situation for us, but disastrous for our friends in the north.

During this current drought, water is a precious commodity. Our humble water tray offerings attract an animated parade of wildlife, day and night.

A bobcat comes through several nights a week.

Bobcat, California. Photo taken with an outdoor camera trap.

Other regular night creatures include great horned owls, who frequently serenade us with duets, and deafening cicada choruses throughout every night. Dark dawns bring us individual bats silently zig-zagging the sky.

For comical daytime entertainment, we have a quirky gray squirrel who has taken to covering his back and head with his tail. He does it all the time.

Maybe he’s just an odd dude, or maybe he’s decided to use his tail as an umbrella to shield from the blazing sun. Whatever his story, we love him. We call him Davy, for his resemblance to a Davy Crockett hat.

Gray Squirrel at the water tray, California

Brush rabbits appreciate the water tray too.

Brush Rabbit enjoying refreshment, California

It’s been so hot and dry lately that birds we don’t ordinarily see at the water tray came in this summer for drinks and baths. The outdoor camera captures this screech owl at the water tray regularly.

Western Screech Owl at the water tray, California. Photo taken with outdoor camera trap.

Yesterday I noticed this Cooper’s hawk at the water tray for an hour. We have also watched him vigorously bathing here. On sizzling hot days, he stands right in the water, probably regulating his body temperature.

I do love summer for the plethora of wildlife and their activities, but I am looking forward to the fall, too. Cooler temperatures and some rain to douse the earth would be dreamy.

But what a lively and lovely summer it has been.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Those Who Drink Nectar

September 3, 2021September 3, 2021 / Jet Eliot / 87 Comments

The world of plants and pollen is a grand one, covering all land on earth. Without pollinators we would not have plants, and without plants we would not have food. Here are a few of the beauties who drink nectar.

Birds, bats, bees, moths, butterflies, other insects and some small mammals consume nectar. By dipping into a flower head they are consuming the nectar and subsequently spreading the pollen that is stuck to their body, thereby pollinating.

Current sources say that 1 out of 3 bites of food we humans eat is due to a successful pollinator.

More info

Wikipedia Nectarivore and Wikipedia Nectar

Although there are many different kinds of nectar-feeders, or nectarivores, the majority are birds and insects.

Of the birds, there are three types who do most of the nectar drinking: hummingbirds, sunbirds and honeyeaters. Their bills are shaped for probing flowers; and their kidneys and digestive systems can absorb and break down sugar faster.

Hummingbirds. There are over 300 species in the world, and they all live in the Western Hemisphere.

In this photo, you can see pollen on the tip of the hummingbird’s bill. This punk-rocking hummingbird got what he set out to get.

Sunbirds. From the family Nectariniidae, sunbirds live in the Old World. Even their family name has the word “nectar” in it.

Many nectarivores, like this sunbird below, have a curved bill, perfect for reaching deep into a flower.

Honeyeaters. The honeyeater family is a large one, and includes 190 species of birds primarily in Australia and New Guinea. Notice the bill of this yellow-faced honeyeater, it is slightly down-curved to reach the pollen.

It is not just the hummingbirds, sunbirds, and honeyeaters who drink nectar. Other bird species also drink sweet flower nectar.

The honeycreeper species is endemic to Hawaii. You can see this Apapane, a honeycreeper, has a down-curved bill for foraging pollen.

Parrots have sticky tongues for reaching the nectar.

Rainbow lorikeet eating flower, Australia

There are also many insects who drink nectar, primarily butterflies, moths and bees. They have a specialized feature for reaching into the flower called a proboscis.

You can see the dark proboscis on each of these two insects, below.

In this Painted Lady butterfly photo, you can see the white club-shaped antenna pointed upward, and the brown proboscis is curved downward at a 90 degree angle into a flower.

Painted Lady Butterfly on Yerba Santa, California

This hummingbird moth’s proboscis extends into the honeysuckle flower.

Insects who do not have a proboscis, like ants and beetles, crawl into the flower for their sweet treat.

Because nectar is a super sweet concentration of three kinds of sugar (sucrose, glucose, fructose), most nectarivores supplement their diet with protein (i.e. insects).

Similarly, butterflies use their proboscises to extract salts and amino acids from mud puddles, a process dubbed puddling.

Black Kite-swallowtail Butterflies, puddling, Belize

Some small mammals drink nectar, too.

Bats are extremely important for pollinating plants on our planet. The largest bats in the world, flying foxes, are one of my favorite bat species. We saw numerous species in Australia.

Grey-headed Flying Foxes, Sydney, Australia

They have tiny hairs on the end of their tongues to mop up nectar.

Grey-headed Flying Fox, Sydney, Australia

Across the world in Trinidad, the long-tongued bat uses its especially long tongue to reach far into the tropical flowers for nectar. We found these opportunistic long-tongued bats at the hummingbirds’ nectar feeder.

Long-tongued bats at nectar feeder, Trinidad

Another mammal who drinks nectar is the sugar glider.

A nocturnal arboreal mammal found in the rainforests of Australia, these marsupials have gliding membranes that extend from their forelegs to hindlegs, allowing them to fly from tree to tree evading predators and foraging for food. They are opportunistic feeders and have a large, varied diet including nectar and pollen.

Birds, butterflies, small mammals and even big mammals like humans, we like our sweets.

In a world that doesn’t always feel so sweet, it is fortunate we have nectar and pollinators.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Emus and Other Oz Friends

August 13, 2021 / Jet Eliot / 66 Comments

Emu, Mareeba Wetlands, Queensland, Australia

It was a sweltering, hot afternoon, like many we’ve had lately in Northern California; only it was years ago on an isolated Australian savannah, when unique Oz friends came to entertain us.

They were not human friends, for there were no other humans there that day, except for the woman behind the counter at the empty Wetland Centre. It was the Mareeba Wetlands in Queensland.

It was quiet, desolate and sizzling hot, and we had the whole place to ourselves.

Surrounded by nothing but termite mounds and gum trees, I think the heat, over 100 degrees Fahrenheit (38 C.), had something to do with it.

So far, Athena and I had had good birding luck, had found lizards and birds here, all completely entertaining.

The frill-necked lizard, one of my favorite lizards. Their neck frills up when they’re alarmed. But that day it was so hot, not even the frill moved.

Frill-necked Lizard, Queensland, Australia

And the birds in Australia are just always a surprise. This noisy intense bird had a blue face and yellow eyes. They eat bugs and nectar.

Blue-faced Honeyeater, Queensland, Australia

This ruby-eyed bird looked like a cross between a pheasant and a cuckoo.

So then we were taking a break, enjoying a cup of tea, when four big emus came sauntering in.

When the first one came around the corner, I noticed we both sat up straighter. Then three more followed.

The cheeky giants gathered around a nearby picnic table.

Native only to Australia, emus primarily eat plants and grasses, and that’s what they were eating that day. They also eat arthropods and insects in grass like crickets, beetles, and grasshoppers.

Although they are technically birds, emus are flightless and have large bodies, so it’s more like coming upon a human or large animal, than a bird.

They are funny-looking with their hairless legs and long necks. And their feathers look more like grass than feathers.

Their necks are blue underneath the feathers.

We knew better than to think they were friendly.

They were indifferent to us, and continued quietly grazing, even as Athena slowly moved in closer to get photos.

They can sprint up to 31 mph (50 km/h) and have powerful legs and formidable claws, used for defense.

The second tallest bird in the world, emus average around 65 inches (165 cm) tall, about 5’5″. Only ostriches are taller.

It is a unique experience to be face-to-face on level ground with a bird. It doesn’t happen too often.

Eventually Athena got too close. The emu let Athena know by indignantly stretching its long neck higher than her nearly six-foot-high frame. At that point we both backed up, and they resumed their grazing.

They stayed there so long that eventually we went back to our table.

They grazed on grass while we sipped our tea.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Building Machu Picchu

August 6, 2021 / Jet Eliot / 73 Comments

Built for Inca royalty around 1450 A.D., Machu Picchu is a grand complex in the Andes mountains of Peru. It was occupied for 80 years, then for hundreds of years lay dormant. Here is a brief look at the ingenuity behind the building of Machu Picchu.

The citadel was an extensive complex with approximately 200 buildings, and housed about 750 people. It covered 80,000 acres (82,500 hectares).

It was roughly divided into an urban sector and an agricultural sector; with a variety of buildings including the royal palace and tomb, residential quarters, religious temples, the cemetery, prison area, and more.

In addition to the 200 buildings, Inca engineers also designed elaborate farming terraces and sophisticated canal irrigation systems. Water was guided through aqueducts into the citadel for use in agriculture and bathing. Pictured below is an indoor water feature with water that still flows.

This photo below of the Royal Tomb highlights the fine workmanship in the granite.

At the time, the buildings were constructed with thatched roofs. The thatching is long gone now, but there are a few buildings where officials revived the thatched roofs to demonstrate what it looked like.

Machu Picchu Houses with Thatched Roofs; Andes and Rainbow in Background

The architecture of this UNESCO World Heritage Site is still admired today. Design incorporated the surrounding topography. With light and its resulting shadows, some designs mimicked the mountain peaks precisely.

This scene shows the parallels between the stone buildings and the mountains.

Building materials also incorporated the surroundings. They used the existing rock, primarily granite, in two basic ways: by chiseling the granite bedrock of the mountain ridge; and cutting granite from nearby quarries, transporting it to the site.

To transport the granite, builders cut it into blocks using nothing more than hard stones and bronze tools. Then hundreds of men, using ropes, logs, poles, levers and ramps, pushed it up the mountain.

Some blocks weighed more than 40 tons.

Amazing Feats #1 and #2: cutting hard granite with stone and bronze tools; and pushing 45-ton granite blocks up a steep mountain.

Elevation at Machu Picchu is 7,970 feet (2,430m). You can see here how steep the mountain is.

Amazing Feat #3, the one I never stopped examining as I stood among the rocks and walls of Machu Picchu: the way the stones fit together.

Once the blocks were pushed up the mountain and into place, builders fine-tuned the blocks until they were perfectly interlocking…so tightly and impeccably fitted that they used no mortar.

This technique, called ashlar masonry, was painstakingly practiced in the most sacred Inca sites.

In the 500+ years since its original construction, the buildings still remain standing, even in this earthquake-prone area.

Below are two of Machu Picchu’s celebrated structures. The first one is the Temple of the Sun, or Torreon, where they worshipped the sun, planets and Inca constellations.

Notice the trapezoidal-shaped windows. This design is prevalent throughout the citadel.

Temple of the Sun aka Torreon, Machu Picchu

The second structure, below, titled Intihuatana, is what is believed to be an astronomic clock or calendar. It is a ritual stone arranged to point directly at the sun during the winter solstice. Inti was their sun god.

More information:

Machu Picchu Wikipedia

Inca Architecture Wikipedia

Just like the Inca empire, the Machu Picchu citadel was eventually lost to history. The Spanish conquistadors never found it, the reason it was still intact in 1911 when Hiram Bingham, an American lecturer and explorer, discovered it while on an expedition in search of a different site. (Although he was not the first to find it, he was considered the scientific discoverer.)

Beautiful Machu Picchu had been hidden under thick vegetation for hundreds of years.

During my two visits to Machu Picchu, occasionally a grazing llama ambled by, and a particularly enchanting sparrow sang, sealing in the natural beauty and rich history of this remarkable place.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Cooper’s Hawks, The Next Generation

July 30, 2021 / Jet Eliot / 74 Comments

Cooper’s Hawk, juvenile, flying through the forest

Living in a mixed woodland, I have had the unending pleasure of watching generations of Cooper’s Hawks grow up for several years. Here is a brief look at this fascinating raptor.

It all started with this individual (below), in March of 2017. That month it was cold and rainy with hail and a scant accumulation of snow. Athena and I were very excited about seeing this adult daily, a new addition to our backyard bird population.

Cooper’s Hawk, adult, in rain, mid-March 2017, California

I wrote a post about the adult we saw that cold day in mid-March, and the family that developed thereafter.

Here’s the 2017 post: New Cooper’s Hawks

Since then many things have happened, including wildfires that incinerated the madrone tree where they had nested.

It is four years later, the forest is slowly recovering, and the most wonderful miracle happened.

Two new Cooper’s hawks have joined our spirited woodland.

Imagine the thrill for us when, last month, we saw two more juveniles once again circling our property, learning stealth and calling out in that familiar airy cry.

They are the next generation of that same adult pictured in Photo #3 above, who began the nest in 2017. That means not only did they not perish in the fires, but they returned to breed again.

This summer, since our plans for family, friends and trips have been curtailed by new pandemic surges, we spend a lot of time at home. This has given us the privilege of watching the next generation mature.

Just like the earlier brood years ago, the new juveniles are adapting to life in our California forest.

Will they eventually come to the water tray for refreshment like this one did?

Cooper’s Hawk at the water tray (photographed through a window), California

They have already learned how to fly, an amazing accomplishment in itself. Unlike many raptors, Accipiter cooperii are proficient at flying through forests. Their relatively short wings and long tail make them skillful hunters amid tree trunks, limbs and leaves. They are a marvel to watch.

Cooper’s Hawk, juvenile, learning to hunt

This new generation is cooperatively hunting, too. Ordinarily Cooper’s hawks are solitary birds, but when they are young sometimes they hunt together. Both generations we have watched start their prowess this way. One drives the prey towards the other.

So far hunting hasn’t been too successful from what we have seen, and it’s just as well that we don’t see everything.

Both juveniles are hunting together in this photo, taken a few days ago.

Cooper’s hawks, sibling pair cooperatively hunting, California (second one is in lower right)

While they have learned flight and hunting techniques, our new sibling pair are still learning stealth.

One day they dramatically swooped together into a pine tree with great flying flair, but making such a racket that all the birds vanished instantly. Both hawks were screaming. Actually screaming.

Cooper’s Hawk, juvenile, calling, California

After a few more days went by, we watched one hawk practicing patience. When it flew into the tree the small birds scattered, as usual. But this time the hawk stayed perched for about 15 minutes, waited for the birds to return. They did return, one by one, and the hawk stayed perched and still, just watching.

Every dawn I hear the whistling cry of the Cooper’s hawks. I did today and hopefully I will tomorrow. Interestingly, the screaming voice is lessening in volume as the birds mature. The hawks and I start our new day together, pursuing life in our own ways.

We take it one day at a time, figuring out what to do next and next and next.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Cooper’s Hawk fledgling in early July 2017, California

Postcards from Kakadu

July 23, 2021 / Jet Eliot / 75 Comments

Mamukala Billabong, Kakadu NP, Australia

Saltwater Crocodile, Kakadu NP, Australia

Here’s a park so big that it has four river systems. It is loaded with wildlife, some that eat humans. It dates back tens of thousands of years; and although it’s accessible, most people will never get here.

Kakadu National Park is a vast expanse in the northern tip of the Northern Territory of Australia. It covers 7,646 square miles (19,804 sq. km) and holds the double distinctions of being a UNESCO World Heritage Site as well as a Ramsar Wetland.

There are two basic seasons in Kakadu: dry and wet. Like many wilderness areas in the world, the dry season in Kakadu means the water sources have shrunken, which brings the wildlife closer to the water and more available for observing. The wet season brings monsoons and flooding.

More info about Kakadu: Wikipedia and Parks Australia

We were there in the dry season, in September of 2010. As birders we stayed focused on the wetlands, foregoing the waterfalls and other land features spanning this enormous park.

Due to the extremes in temperatures and conditions, accommodations and human establishments were few. We stayed at the only lodge in the park to be closer to the wildlife.

Every day by noon the thermometer hovered around 110 degrees Fahrenheit (43 C.), so we did most of our exploring in the very early morning and late in the day.

Probably our favorite activity was the Yellow Water Boat cruises, cruising in a pontoon boat through the wetlands. We had safe and close-up views of saltwater crocodiles and wetland birds.

Crocodile and Comb-crested Jacana, Kakadu NP, Australia

The largest living reptile on earth, saltwater crocodiles (Crocodylus porosus) also have the greatest bite pressure measured in any living animal. Salties, as the Australians call them, can stay hidden underwater for an hour, eventually lunging up to grab their prey and devour it. They look deceptively docile.

Comb-crested Jacana, Kakadu NP, Australia

Predators abound in this harsh wilderness. We watched in awe as this female Australian Darter wrestled with a large fish…and stayed until the fish’s tail went sliding down her throat.

Australian Darter, female, Kakadu NP, Australia

This four-foot stork (50 inches tall or 127 cm) foraged in the lily flowers.

Black-necked Stork, aka Jabiru, Kakadu NP, Australia

Equally as enticing were some enormous escarpments: steep, rocky plateaus jutting out of the floodplains. We visited two of the more well-known rock formations that were highlighted with Aboriginal rock art, Ubirr and Nourlangie Rock.

Escarpment and Termite Mound, Kakadu NP, Australia

The rock art dates back about 20,000 years. Sources vary as to the exact age of the drawings, but the origin of the artists is undeniably Aboriginal.

Aboriginal Rock Art, Ubirr, Kakadu NP, Australia

Aboriginal Rock Art, Long-necked Turtle, Kakadu NP, Australia

Aboriginal Rock Art, Kangaroo, Kakadu NP, Australia

The Aboriginals drew pictures not only as expression, but as part of their dream culture, striving to encourage the spiritual world to bestow an abundance of wildlife for hunting, healthy offspring, and other human riches.

By visiting these rock art sites and learning about the original people, a curious thing happened. The past fused with the present, and all of humanity came alive.

It heightened the sacredness of this place.

Link to Rock Art at Kakadu National Park.

Most nights after the heat had diminished by about 20 degrees, a simple walk through the adjacent campground became a fun activity. Due to crocodiles, walking around the wild and watery places was not safe.

So we looked for birds in the campground, where vacationing Australians in their “caravans” (van-size campers) were cooking their dinners and socializing. It was a raucous scene most nights, and endlessly interesting. Up above us in the surrounding trees were unique birds.

Red-tailed Black Cockatoo pair in Gum Tree (male on L, female on R), Kakadu NP

In the campground we stood out as birders in our geeky clothes and equipment; and two college students befriended us. They called us “twitchers” (birders) and took us to see owls and stone-curlews, and listen to unusual frogs.

The mornings were filled with sightings of birds and crocodiles and beautiful wetland scenes, until it got too hot.

Australian Darter, male, Kakadu NP, Australia

Nankeen Night Heron, Kakadu NP, Australia

White-bellied Sea Eagle, Kakadu NP, Australia

We spent the afternoons submerged in the lodge swimming pool or reviewing our bird studies. At night the geckos in the room got loud, and we ventured out to the campground.

When our week in Kakadu came to a close, we returned to the Northern Territory’s biggest city (Darwin) about a four-hour drive away. In the pre-dawn morning we boarded a flight for the next leg of our journey on the Great Barrier Reef.

As we continued our Australian adventures, the sacredness, beauty, raw wildness, and danger of Kakadu blissfully remained with us. Thanks for sharing this adventure.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Brown Creeper Story

July 16, 2021 / Jet Eliot / 73 Comments

There is a novel member of the bird kingdom who blends in so perfectly to its environment that few non-birders know about it. I am happy to share a recent encounter.

The brown creeper is relatively small, and is almost always found on trees. They are a woodland songbird. The bird’s back is primarily black and brown with textured patterning, and it camouflages into the tree bark so remarkably that seeing it is nearly impossible.

An insect-eating bird, they have a slender decurved bill perfect for digging into tree bark and plucking out beetles, aphids, caterpillars, ants, spiders and others.

More Brown Creeper info – allaboutbirds.org

Much like a nuthatch, they make their way up a tree in a spiral pattern, then flutter back to the bottom of the next tree and repeat the same spiraling hunt. The fluttering moment is usually the only time you really see them. They use their stiff tails for support and are consequently adept at foraging upside down.

They have a sound too, but it is very high-pitched and often muted by louder creatures. Click here to hear.

One day last month, Athena and I hiked through the forest on our morning walk. It was nesting time in the forest.

That morning we had already checked on the raven nest, the bluebird nest, and the Pacific-slope flycatcher nest.

While Athena was photographing, I noticed some unusual brown creeper behavior and my eyes followed an adult going to an obscure crack in the bark of a California Bay Laurel (Umbellularia californica) tree.

Parent Brown Creeper (right) heading to nest with insect

Then she vanished into the crack.

In that moment I heard the characteristic sound of hungry cheeping nestlings being fed, and knew I had found a creeper nest.

We watched a few minutes more and realized the nest was safely wedged behind the bark of this towering bay tree.

Brown Creeper nest in darkened crack in left trunk of Calif. Bay Laurel

For days we watched the nest, and each new day the voices of the nestlings became stronger. Visions of new creepers danced in our heads.

Then one morning we came out and saw part of the trunk had crashed down in the night. The nest. Oh no, the nest.

This forest was severely damaged in wildfires. Many of the surviving trees look like they’re fine, but often a limb will just drop. Or sometimes a tree looks like it’s recovering and growing, and then one day the whole thing keels over.

Before the fires, this bay tree was an admirable one–huge and strong with multiple trunks. But you can see it has suffered from the fires, bark has lifted from the tree or fallen off in several places; it’s not as mighty as it once was. But it’s great for creepers, who like the rippled bark for nesting.

We studied the damage and soon realized the trunk piece that had fallen was separate from the nest.

So our hearts once again lifted.

Here you can see freshly ripped wood (left trunk) and a large hunk on the ground underneath (lower center). An arrow indicates where the nest is.

Bay tree, nest marked, and fallen trunk on ground (lower center)

We stood there in anticipation, waiting to see if the parent was still tending the nest…and she was. They might have had a roller coaster night with the big next-door trunk cracking and dropping, but the nest remained safe.

Coyote, bobcat and fox come through on this trail regularly. We find new scat and fresh divots every morning, so a nest loaded with defenseless babies on the ground could have been disastrous.

Another day while we were photographing the creeper nest, a dark-eyed junco started scolding and harassing the parent creepers.

We soon discovered that the juncos had a nest, too, hidden in a hole beside a big rock that we were clambering around to see the creepers. We moved away and then all was well again.

As the month of June unfolded, the creeper voices continued to become even stronger.

Then one magical morning it happened.

The nestlings had become so developed that their little heads were starting to poke out of the bark. Both parents were industriously catching insects and delivering them to the nest. With binoculars, we could see their little heads.

Two nestling Brown Creepers peeking out of the nest

One parent would arrive, present the insect, then fly off; and soon the other parent would do the same, and this continued for at least a half hour. It was a dizzying pace.

This parent has a spider in its bill, taking it to the nest.

Harried parent Brown Creeper with a spider in its bill

And another.

Brown Creeper nest (center) with parent to the right delivering food

At one point there was a slight pause in the delivery, and the voices raised to a louder, more emphatic volume as the impatient nestlings were forced to wait a few extra minutes.

And then one of the little chicks suddenly, and quite naturally, emerged out of the nest and started plodding up the tree.

Two siblings watched while the eldest left the nest.

Center top the first brown creeper emerges from the nest, while the two siblings (below) watch

Soon another sibling left…and then there was one.

Second brown creeper (top) leaves the nest, one below (lower center) watches on

Then all three were out. There was quite a bit of commotion, with their high-pitched peeping and the parents trying to keep up, flying after them and catching insects. We were all very excited.

The fledglings did not venture too far, but now they were learning to fly and feed and make their way around independently.

This fledgling was learning how to use its still-short tail to balance.

Fledgling Brown Creeper minutes after leaving the nest

One tyke tumbled off an oak limb, but it extended its wings in a desperate struggle and landed softly. It was fine.

We think there might have been a fourth nestling, it seemed there was shadowy activity inside the tree bark crevasse. But that day it did not show itself.

And the next day when we returned, there were no creepers, nor have there been any since then. They have all moved on.

It was fortunate we were there at the right time to watch this nest full of baby birds on their maiden flights fledging into the forest.

You just never know where or when a miracle is going to happen.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Sibling pair of brown creepers on their first morning out of the nest

Tropical Delights

July 9, 2021 / Jet Eliot / 74 Comments

Coconut Palm loaded with coconuts, Hawaii

Sometimes it is interesting to see some of our most common foods in their pre-processed earth-growing forms. Here is a fun look at a few of the food delights I have seen while birding in tropical countries.

The food plant I have seen the most in my tropical birding travels: bananas.

Genus Musa. Bananas grow in a wide variety of soils and are harvested in 135 countries.

The largest herbaceous plant, a banana plant is typically about 16 feet (5m) tall. There is a large pink flower or inflorescence that emerges from the plant where the bananas grow.

Although I would never venture into plantations on my own, local bird guides, familiar with surroundings and people, often take Athena and I into the fields.

Athena with guides, banana plantation, Costa Rica

In the Amazon, our guide led us through this banana plantation, below, as we headed for a bird blind. We were on a mission to spot macaws at the river bank. We took a shortcut through rows of these bananas. They are the most common cultivar, the Cavendish, the species most of us buy from the grocery store.

Lucky for us, we found the macaws too.

Red and Green Macaws extracting nutrients from the river wall (photo by B. Page)

Interestingly, a few days after our macaw experience, our motorized canoe passed by these bananas being transported on their way to market.

Madre de Dios River, Amazon Valley, Peru; bananas go to market

This euphonia bird, in Belize, is eating the banana seeds he successfully wrangled out of the banana.

Yellow-throated Euphonia eating a banana, Belize

While the banana is one of the most recognizable food items in the world, there are few people who would ever know that these red pods are what chocolate is made from.

Years earlier, while birding in Belize, we first saw yellow pods hanging in the trees. In a flash, our guide Glen had kicked off his shoes, climbed a tree, and brought down a yellow pod. None of us knew what it was.

Guide climbing tree to access a yellow pod, Belize

It is a cocoa pod. They come in various colors, depending on the species and maturity.

As Glen opened the pod, he enthusiastically explained he had done this frequently as a kid. It was impressive how quickly and deftly he climbed up that tree.

Guide opened the cocoa pod to reveal cocoa beans, Belize

Making chocolate starts with the pod. They are cut from the tree with a machete, and the beans are extracted from the pod. There are 30-50 beans in each pod. The beans go through an elaborate process of fermentation, drying, roasting and more.

We tasted the beans, but it was nothing like chocolate. In fact, for one like me who is a chocolate lover, I chose to forget the taste.

Coffee, like chocolate, also goes through a lot of processing.

It starts in the field with a worker, like this Mexican man with his basket and machete. We were in this plantation marveling at parrotlets, soon after dawn, when he came through to start his work day.

Man headed for the coffee plants to collect berries, Mexico

Shade-grown crops, like this coffee plantation (below) in Belize, are an environmentally sound way to grow crops. You can see there are tall trees in the same land parcel as the short coffee plants. This way the coffee can grow without obliterating the surrounding forest.

Coffee plantation, sustainable agriculture, Belize

These toucans, in this field, were happy about that.

Two keel-billed toucans (black and yellow) in tree, Belize coffee plantation

This is one of the coffee plants up close. You can see the coffee berries in clumps in the center.

Between exporting and explorers, there have been many centuries of trading and transporting exotic foods. In tropical islands like Hawaii, we see many unique foods that originated in Southeast Asia like star fruit and rambutan.

While birding in a historic churchyard on the Big Island of Hawaii, we came across these star fruit.

When you cut a cross section of the fruit, the pieces are star-shaped.

Fresh fruit breakfast plate in Hawaii: star fruit, pineapple chunks, rambutans

Rambutans, too, are a plant that originated in Southeast Asia but also grows well in Hawaii.

Friendly surfers on a Kauai roadside sold us tasty rambutans.

It is a red tropical fruit with soft, hair-like spikes, seen in the center of the plate below. Easy to find all over Hawaii.

Fruit plate with rambutan in the center, Hawaii; also peeled papaya and strawberry bananas

Pineapples and papayas are also easy to find all over Hawaii, both originally from the Americas.

This gecko is waiting for the day when the papayas will be ripe.

We are lucky in my home state of California where conditions provide a rich variety of crops. But I will have to cover that another time.

Whether you’re traveling or birding or simply cruising your own back roads, there are often crops or plants around us providing food to humans or other earth-dwelling inhabitants.

Cheers to a marvelous planet on which we live, providing sunshine, soil, rain and oxygen.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander unless otherwise specified.