Went Hunting For Birds And I Got Skunked

A couple days ago I was out for sunrise along San Francisco Bay near my house, looking specifically for a Pacific Golden Plover in breeding plumage. One had been spotted in the area the day before, and I wanted to see if I could find him before he continued his migration north.

Upon arriving at the site, I immediately knew there would be no opportunities that morning. The tide was out, and all of the shorebirds were well out away from the sand in some soupy viscous mud. I knew that if I ventured out to where they were, I’d be at least up to my knees in the stuff, unable to move quietly, and a mucky mess. Oh well – I gave it a shot. Low tide was right around noon, which is usually a terrible time for photography.

A striped skunk poses for a portrait in pickleweed growing along the San Francisco Bay
A striped skunk poses for a portrait in pickleweed growing along the San Francisco Bay

As I turned around to head back to the car, I saw some movement in the rocks that separate the beach from a bay trail. To my surprise it was a striped skunk, heading out for a late breakfast. I had only ever seen skunks before at dusk, and usually when its already fairly dark out.

He descended into the pickleweed and disappeared entirely. Most of the time, he could only be detected by the rustling of bushes, and loud smacking and crunching whenever he ate what he dug up. Occasionally a beautiful tail would appear waving above the pickleweed.

A striped skunk tail emerges from a thick growth of pickleweed along the San Francisco Bay
A striped skunk tail emerges from a thick growth of pickleweed along the San Francisco Bay

As he moved closer to me, I would back up, making sure to give him plenty of space. It was extremely difficult to keep focus on him as he moved through the pickleweed, because he could move quickly when he wanted to, and I usually only got to see flashes of black fur. Finally however, he emerged at the edge of the thicket and gave me the shot I was hoping for. A quick burst of frames and I got only one keeper which is the first shot of the post.

Creature From The Deep

A harbor seal pops its head above water as the sun sets behind it, Redwood Shores, San Francisco Bay
A harbor seal pops its head above water as the sun sets behind it, Redwood Shores, San Francisco Bay

I often photograph out in Redwood Shores, CA, a town within Redwood City that juts out into the San Francisco Bay. It is a suburb consisting of homes and townhouses built around a network of man-made water channels, offering many backyards direct water access. All that water also attracts a great variety of birds.

A little while ago I was tracking a bird down at the edge of one of the water channels. I was about ten feet below the bay trail, out of sight of any passerbys. As I was looking through my lens, I heard a soft “sploosh” very close to me. I could tell something big had disturbed the water to my left. At first I though that maybe someone was throwing rocks into the channel, but then I realized the sound was too gentle to have been caused by a rock. I looked up and scanned the water, but all I saw were concentric rings emanating from a spot about fifteen feet from shore.

Then, suddenly a large head emerged not far from that spot – big eyes staring into mine.

With eyes and nose just above water, a harbor seal cruises through the still waters of a slough, Redwood Shores, San Francisco Bay
With eyes and nose just above water, a harbor seal cruises through the still waters of a slough, Redwood Shores, San Francisco Bay

I was surprised to see a harbor seal pop up and investigate me. We sat there for a while, just looking at each other as the sun set and everything fell silent. He obliged while I swung my camera around to photograph him. Then he submerged and over the next ten or fifteen minutes, he appeared at various distances, each time looking in my direction.

A curious harbor seal emerges from the water enough to watch the shore of a small slough, Redwood Shores, San Francisco Bay
A curious harbor seal emerges from the water enough to watch the shore of a small slough, Redwood Shores, San Francisco Bay

Afterward, I learned that he was an off and on regular in this neighborhood. Apparently he got through one or more water control gates that lead out into the bay. Either he is very smart and can return to these channels at will, or he is stuck here, fishing the shallow channels. Whatever the case, he seems to be thriving. I have seen him since on several other occasions (assuming it is the same harbor seal of course). The next time I see a large mysterious shadow passing just below the surface of the water, I’ll know who it is.

Chestnut-Backed Chickadee

A chestnut-backed chickadee sings at the top of its lungs while perched on a bush stem
A chestnut-backed chickadee sings at the top of its lungs while perched on a bush stem

Recently I found this chestnut-backed chickadee foraging in and around a large ornamental bush growing along a walking path. These chickadees seem to mostly travel alone, and are difficult to photograph because they are small and very fast. Usually they’ll perch on a twig just long enough for me to find it in my viewfinder before it zips off to another location, leaving me with yet another picture of an empty twig.

A chestnut-backed chickadee plucks a small dead leaf from its branch in order to create a better place to perch
A chestnut-backed chickadee plucks a small dead leaf from its branch in order to create a better place to perch

True to form, this little guy was jumping from one spot to another, leaving me with nothing but my normal frustration. Suddenly, he lighted on a narrow branch right in front of me. After surveying his spot for a few seconds, he plucked a small dead leaf in order to clear a spot, and launched into a beautiful song. He seemed occupied in his song, and completely unconcerned with my presence, allowing my to click away.

A chestnut-backed chickadee perches on a thin bush stem
A chestnut-backed chickadee perches on a thin bush stem

After about 30 seconds of singing and a few brief poses on his perch, he was off again. This time he did not hang around, but took off into the air and out of sight.

Parenthood

A canada goose delivers a lesson to its young chicks
A canada goose delivers a lesson to its young chicks

One of my favorite wildlife subjects to photograph is a parent with their new young. Watching how different species teach their children about the dangerous world in which they live is a joy.

Two canada goose chicks forage at the edge of a small pond
Two canada goose chicks forage at the edge of a small pond

Seeing siblings interact is also a lot of fun. They play together, squabble, and compete for food. All of these help activities teach them important survival skills.

Two canada goose siblings swim together in a pond
Two canada goose siblings swim together in a pond

Photographing these family interactions is challenging. You have to be close enough to catch the action, while still maintaining enough distance to let their natural behavior unfold. If you get too close to a family group, the parents will corral their chicks as if from a dangerous predator.

A gosling stands in shallow water eating
A gosling stands in shallow water eating

Canada geese is one of the easiest species to see these types of family behaviors in local wildlife. In the bay area they are a year-round species so there are lots of chicks running around in the spring.

A canada goose escorts its chicks to a small pond for a swimming lesson
A canada goose escorts its chicks to a small pond for a swimming lesson

They are much larger than ducks, which allows the parents to teach their young in open areas, rather than keep them hidden in the pickle weed like ducks.

A canada goose keeps a careful eye on its young
A canada goose keeps a careful eye on its young

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in watching these chicks that I forget to take photos, and end up using my lens as a scope. They always bring a smile to my face.

Copyright 2017 Hank Christensen