In My Own Backyard by Ed Keenan

Bonding with nature in my own backyard? “Not possible. To do that, I need to get away and go where the birds and wildlife are. I need to get out where the creeks and rivers and canyons of green are teaming with birds and other interesting wildlife.” That’s because all the fertile hills and farmland valleys are being covered over with asphalt and houses here in Southern California—expensive ones at that! In this semi-arid country the ancient tracts and groves of the gorgeous Live Oak are all but gone except in the creek bottoms. Once alive with avian songs of day and hoots and calls of night, marshes and creeks have been drained, buried or graded over.

Fortunately the tree-huggers screamed loud enough over the years to save the migratory Bells Vireo by saving the willow trees that serve as their nest sites and food source— the larval caterpillar of the Admiral butterfly.  Now the canyons and their riparian woods are being protected and enhanced and even replanted in some areas. These park-like green belts add to their respective communities and serve as natural habitat for indigenous and migratory birds and other wildlife. They also serve as verdant bird walks and cool shady places to escape the grimy summer asphalt, right here in my own backyard.

This morning, the dense creek-side oaks were filled with repeated calls of su-weet, su-weet. Pacific Slope Flycatchers feeding their young, working a sunny opening in the woods like bees in a hive head towards the light. They were catching emerging gnats and Mayflies for their young to eat. With each dart and dive I could hear a soft snap, snap, as they captured their prey and returned to the overhanging dead branch. I focused my binoculars on them and both the male and female were hard at work feeding their fledglings.

Pausing a moment, I stood staring at nimble water skippers (striders) strolling on the surface of the placid creek like Christ walked on water. I also observed the occasional water beetle with a bubble on his rear doing a penguin swim when here comes a big Red Skimmer dragonfly rattling its noisy cellophane wings. It perches glistening in a sunny spot on a fallen log jutting out from the creek. Under the log, a one-armed crawdad slithers sideways across the bottom following the decaying liquid trail of an unfortunate nestling, fallen from its nest. Though I was here basically to observe birds; I stood contemplating each fascinating creature fulfilling its God-given role in the fragile riparian ecology that I so enjoy.

Suddenly a young Red Shouldered hawk swoops in causing a Beechy Ground Squirrel to bark and scurry. From its perch it begins eying me with the typical bob and weave of its head, focusing and trying to figure me out. Standing very still, I mock it with similar bobs and weaves of my own head when suddenly it flies directly at me. It lands on a branch just above my head, not more than eight feet from my face. For an instant I thought it was going to land on me or attack me.

Slowly, I continue the bob and weave and we bobbed and weaved together in a bizarre ballet. It seemed very unafraid; for two or three long minutes we interacted. Then, it squatted down and hunched up as if prepared to fly. It almost seemed to want to drop down on me. But it flew up on a branch a little higher where it stayed in my presence for ten or minutes or more. As I slowly moved about observing other birds and wildlife it never left or changed locations.

Finally it lunged down just below me into the shallow creek, about fifteen feet away, and hit the water as if it had spotted a prey. It thrashed and splashed around about three or four times and took off up the creek under and over the majestic limbs of the sprawling Live Oaks and disappeared. What a unique bonding experience that will likely never happen again! Naked and unembarrassed, it apparently took a short bath right in front of me, or was it just putting on some sort of a strange show? I’m not quite sure which one of us was the most curious.

The last time I was here was early last winter. I was sitting on a rock, situated just off the trail above the creek, when a large coyote with a colorful plush coat came along the trail. It was obviously a male. He had an unusual amount of contrasting rufous color across his neck and upper shoulders. He paused as if he had caught my scent and looked around cautiously. Dropping his head down for an instant, he raised it up on full alert and pranced in a wild coyote gait on up the creek and out of sight. I’ve seen a lot of coyotes but that was truly one of the most handsome. On a previous visit, I had come around an embankment and upon a beautiful bobcat lying over a big oak limb with all fours hanging down. I paused and it gingerly descended the tree, down the slanting trunk, and wandered off twitching its stubby tail in typical cat fashion, that of being annoyed. Funny how such birding experiences draw me back, again and again, to the same places I have been many times, to bond with nature right in my own backyard.

© Ed Keenan

Vista Creek, Vista, CA

06-25-03

COW CHIP/COWBOY POETRY
Cow Chip Poetry - Lies, Lingo and Lore by Southwest Cowboy Poet, Ed Keenan. This is an entertaining collection of cowboy poetry with an extensive 'Glossary of Cowboy Lingo'. Great gift - perfect for trail rides, cookouts, campouts. Contact Arroyo Press, (888) 784-8282, PO Box 1028, Vista CA, 92085. www.SouthwestBlend.com/cowchippoetry