We hadn’t been to Sacramento’s Yolo Bypass Wildlife Area, for birding, the past couple of years. It’s a dream come true in the right conditions, and yesterday was one of those days. At 4 pm the temperature was around 44 degrees, damp, with just enough of a breeze to send the wind through my jeans. Glad we brought the Rav4, since the road was rutted with plenty of potholes and slippery with mud.
There were Snow Geese, Black Neck Stilt, Northern Shoveler, Pintale, Cinnamon Teal, Common Egret, Great Blue Heron, a murmuration of Starling, Coot, Canada Geese, Red Shouldered Hawk (though we had misidentified it before running into some locals with expensive glass who let us peep through their spotting scopes.) There was a Plover I could not identify and at least one Swallow that disappeared before we got a decent look.
We saw a flock of Snow Geese take off maybe 1/2 mile away and right beneath them a storm of rusty shaded ducks took off and filled the sky. Our spotting scope friends said they saw an Eagle swoop in and that’s what spooked the mass. There’s something about that many birds in one place that fills me with joy.
On our way out we stopped for this sweet little reflection pond. Back toward the Snow Geese, the sky was strewn with ribbons of migrating birds, going in so many directions. At one point there was a murmuration of geese, that broke into dozens of Vee formations, some of which flew right over us.
If you’re ever in the area, give yourself time to wander around, and bring mud boots. And remind me to bring more than one set of binoculars, and my Lumix camera with the 600mm lens.
Twas the Twelfth Day of Christmas my true love gave to me, stockings galore, a fire in the fire place, a full cup of coffee, and a strong west swell. Not that I’m surfing, since my back is not back from its hiding place yet.
The day is crisp and clear. Surfers were surfing before I rose from the bed. We are busy at work preparing food for our family who will join us for presents in the not too distant future.
Thanks to Mollie for making this fabulous Twelve Days of Christmas Wreath.
Merry Christmas to all. May this day bring you peace and joy.
Twas the 10th day of Christmas that I did not get out, so on the 11th day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a trip to the Yoga Studio for her “clear-the-head-shake-out-the-kinks” morning starter. It is brisk at the beach with a stiff north-west wind. A good time to wrap the last of our stocking stuffers, and prepare to see the new Star Wars Movie with our extended family. Yes the STAR of Bethlehem graces our Christmas Wreath, disguised as a pearl-centered star fish.
May you feel blessings of life flow around and support you today.
Twas the Ninth Day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a ribbon of spun cloth and my 100th Follower, All Things That Dogs Blog. It’s set in a retro Apple framework.
My brother and his wife raise Guide Dogs for Guide Dogs of America. Our mom was legally blind by the time I was twelve, but it sure didn’t stop her from catching us poking each other or grabbing cookies from the jar. She said she had eyes in the back of her head, and they seemed to work just fine. 20-20 hind sight, I’d guess you’d say.
I’m sure she would love to see Bev and Allen’s current Guide Dog in Training, Bud. Hats off to them for guiding 17 Dogs into service. So go Bud, Go. You’ll be number 18 if you keep your nose clean and pass all your tests.
Bev and Allen have brought unwavering love and devotion to train all those dogs who bring their skills to those who cannot see.
I am grateful for my vision. I am grateful for my family. I am grateful to be alive.
Twas the eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, the most splendid early morning light on this, our Winter Solstice.
We drove down the coast for breakfast, our usual on Wednesdays, before my lovely baby-sits our little grand daughter. Driving south on Hwy 1, 7:30 a.m. light spilled over the hills to set Pedro Point aglow, reminiscent of the haunting light of a solar eclipse.
Later I received a text from my friend Sue, with this photo of little V at the Christmas tree. It speaks for itself.