Asphalt clams

Visit any parking lot around the Puget Sound when the moon and the sun aline just right and you may get to see this.

Fragments of tiny clam the size of a quarter along with and barnacle pieces

 The is an enormous  number of piles of broken shell shards. They look just like sunflower seed husks littering the parking lots, sidewalks near the waters edge.  Then the thought emerges where are all these little things coming from? and why are they there? 

When the low tide coincides with daylight during good weather, the local crows rush in for a rare delicacy.  The true definition of a delicacy, requires a huge amount of energy to grasp that tine morsel of goodness. The hard earned  elusive prize that may be more of a status symbol then an end to a dietary need.  

So it plagues me how does a crow go about extracting this prize?
I know how he physically does it.
I just can not fathom why. 

First these little treasures have to be found. 

Not all of the crows know how to do this. Younger crows learn from their elders.  Feeding baby crows this way would be very labor intensive but there are only a couple hours until the tide returns. 

Seeing an adult crow share with another adult crow is moving.

Transported to  suitable location.

Position for the best aero dynamic characteristics , calculate angle of impact and began your approach.

Lifted to a given height above a hard surface that is the balance point between the expended energy to do it while  maximizing the amount of damage our nemesis gravity could inflict upon the clam upon impact.

Smack.

Recovery.
Repeat as nessesary

 It is hard work and there are many who don't want to expend the energy but want the reward.  Remind you of anyone in your flock?

Finding refuge to relish your hard won reward is to often short lived

Again in their world as well as ours, if anything is worth having is worth working for. Or stealing.

Once the shell of the hapless clam is shattered the crow uses it's body as a lever and tears off tinniest of morsels.

Down the hatch.

I can't imagine the crow is doing this to appease a refined taste. The tidbit just goes straight down. I have always wondered how much or if crows could taste their food.   I have eaten clams. I am not a fan but I cannot imagine expending that much energy for the reward to gain equation.  

This technique the crow are using is not just limited to clams.

Discarded peach pits and sometimes items that are not edible get the same treatment.  The crows here are not all that different then any other crow. This behavior is common to their who family around the world.  

Crows are not alone with this skill. Heavy bombers have found their own delicacies.

Here is a local gull with a Moon Snail. Moon Snails prey on other mollusks in the Puget Sound and are hated by many humans but loved by the gulls.  They can reach the size of a baseball or larger so most of the time they are too heavy for a crow to lift to a sufficient height to damage the shell.

So the next time the tide is low and the and he weather permits see if you can find a show.  There is always squabbling and jockeying and stealing.  I don't think they do it for the food. I thing they do it because they can, it is difficult and expends way more energy then returned.  They do it to show the other crows that they are accomplished, skilled and a survivors.  

Not to mention show offs.

Hoodies in the NWR

Last week I trekked out to the local wildlife refuge to follow a report of Great Horned Owl owlets that were about to leave their nest.  I went out with sketchy directions and did not locate them. 
Three days later when I went back out they had fledged and left the nest just hours before I got there.

During my first visit I spooked a pair of Hooded Mergansers in a tide flooded back water along the river. Hoodies are small drab fish eating ducks with long, narrow serrated bills. They nest in tree cavities and normally keep their distance from people as all wild ducks do.

A hasty retreat.

Yesterday I happened to find my way back to the refuge. The weather was about to turn from bad to really bad but there were scattered sun breaks that made it worth taking a chance on finding the owlets.  I headed out the trail when right there were the two little Hoodies I had seen last week. Completely unconcerned with myself and the camera.

 A stiff breeze from the approaching storm front made is difficult for these little duck to venture out to deeper water to feed. 

Pockets of calm water at the edge of the cattails made cozy little refuges in which they could preen and feed.

As the drake preened  the hen bathed and chased unseen bits of food among the plants.

The crest of the Hooded Merganser can dramatically change the appearance of the drake.  I have often had friends try to describe the Hooded Merganser to me with wild size, pattern and color claims.

Drab and nondescript, this gorgeous little girl shines when she comes out into the light.

Even with a photo in front of me how do I describe this to someone? She looks comical and sculpted.

The weather turned for the worse as forecast and the light quality dropped.  I did find the owlets but the light did not favor them as it did the Hoodies.  

We will do the owls another time.

Repeat Offenders

I have never denied that writing this blog is a therapy of sorts. Sometimes a chance encounter during the day inspires an enchanting story. Sometimes I just get pissed. This one has to be said now.
       
The Pacific Ocean according to Wikipedia is the largest ocean on the planet.
With a surface area of about 63.8 million square miles it is about forty-six per cent of the earth’s surface. For those keeping score that is almost half. 

 (We all know how good the facts are we get from wiki and the quality of the writers who use them to support their arguments so just shut up and sit there while my rant move along.)
  Dozens of countries with millions if not billions of humans all taking a dump at the shore line while scraping and drilling and netting every single resource and organism that can turn a profit.
 But today a light on the horizon, could it be an answer? Yes, and in the news today a United States Federal Judge in the state of Oregon agrees with the brightest minds our government can afford on the topic of salmon restoration.  With all of the issues lined up and scrutinized the answer is clear. From global warming to rising ocean levels decreased salinity increased acidity caffeine, antidepressants, antibiotics, hormones, cocaine and THC in the waters around the world. 

A vile insidious dark culprit has been identified as consuming as much as four per cent of the salmon stock in the Columbia River basin and must be dealt with. No mercy no quarter no more time.

No you did not misread that, 4%.  

4%.
The Sea Lions must die.
http://www.komonews.com/news/local/Judge-rules-Wash-Ore-can-continue-killing-sea-lions-191534291.html

In October of 2012 we traveled through Astoria Oregon headed south. On
the East side of town on Hwy 30  becomes Lief Erickson Drive. At 36th
Street turn into the parking lot on the river side of the highway and
you find a parking with a wild life viewing area sign. So, we pulled in
and took a walk toward the water.   

Just a few seconds into the walk I
could hear Sea Lions barking.

 These are California Sea Lions. They are protected by State, Federal and International laws. Once there was a fear that they as well as the Sea Otters would disappear as the Steller"s Sea Cow had. Remember them? Probably not. They were hunted to extinction within thirty years of being discovered.

 A tag in the right flipper indicates an encounter with a government authorized agency.

 I started taking pictures with reckless abandon and when the excitement
slowed I started to notice the scars on the backs of some of the
animals.

  They were difficult to see with the naked eye but the 300mm lens with
the 18 megapixel sensor thing in the camera suddenly brought the whole story
together in a flash.

 These are the trouble makers in the news for the past decades that eat
the fish at the base of the Bonneville dam further up stream on the
Columbia.

 

Looking closer I realized the float they
were on and near was a giant sea lion sized box trap and the boat that
takes it up to the dam was tied up right there next to another batch of
trouble makers. 

 The sides of this boat are marked "RESEARCH"

 I do not know which method was used to mark these animals. I would assume liquid Nitrogen was used.  Regardless it appears it takes awhile to heal and is itchy.  The numbers on the tags are the same as the numbers branded into their backs.

 The number on the back of this sea lion appears to have healed completely. This is how the government employees will identify which animals are repeat offenders and identified for removal.

 

This is a closeup of the well healed brand. Makes you wonder how old the brand is.

The marks on this Sea Lion appear to be bites from another.

How nice the Sea Lions must think that the stupid
humans tow their living room all the way up to the dam for them. Only to have the same guys start shooting bean bags from shotguns at you as the throw explosive devices to scare you off. THEN when you finally jump up from the icy water on to the float for a well deserved rest after gorging on fat juicily salmon, the door slams shut and you get a
dart in your ass, a hangover, a tag in your flipper and a number branded in you
back. And now marked for death.

Maybe later we will sit and talk about the tens of thousands of nesting Terns and Cormorants that are also protected under State, Federal and international laws being killed by our government just a few mile upstream from this location.  Evil Terns, Evil Cormorants and their dangerous little tiny babies. 

I guess Sea lions are to fishermen as wolves are to ranchers.  Oh were killing wolves too by the way. Again another government program that protects a species until it impinges on another endangered species so a permit is issued to remove individuals to balance. I would say with us using up far more then the lions share (ha-ha) there should be something left over for the wildlife.

 I have offered no solutions so my rant is pretty much useless. Just sitting here bitching.  I understand how complex the problem is and if I can help you understand it maybe the future will have a plan that doesn't keep going circles wasting money and lives. I just though I would put a face on the repercussions of the decision. I am sure the fisheries people take no joy in killing the Sea Lions.

When I as a kid my maternal grand father told me a story about a man looking under a light post for a quarter he had lost, when a second person came upon the scene and helped in the search. After awhile the second person became frustrated and asked the first if he was sure that  he had lost his quarter here. 

He replied "No, I did not but the light is better here."

Sometimes it takes a long time to understand what someone is trying to tell you.

Avalanche

Over the past thirty years I have been fortunate to travel to Southern
Florida and explore most of the easily accessible and well traveled parts of the Everglades and surrounding areas to the East. If you start at the Atlantic Ocean in southern Florida and travel West you pass through a densely packed strip of houses, malls, retirement homes, hospitals and parking lots.  Then it all drops away and there is a sea of flooded grass with scattered islands of trees.  Very few east-west roads cross over into this vast open space, Griffin Road is one that only enters.  On the east side of the "line" it is an asphalt   thoroughfare on the west side it is a two parallel white gravel lines scarring the top of a dike holding the waters of the Everglades in check.

Looking to the South West

Looking to the South East.  The power towers follow the "line".

On my last visit I took a walk on a hot afternoon.  I have walked thousands of miles, we all will if we live long enough. I followed the white scars away from the "line".  The amount of trash was amazing.  No dig here I was just caught off guard.  From the debris I looked mostly like beer drinking fishermen with cigarettes were the most common travelers. Years of trash have accumulated along this path and it doesn't look as if there is an agency or staff that take care of it. It is just a route from point a to point out westerly.   Few bugs no birds as my feet crunched along in the gravel. The area on the right side of the dike was flooded while the left was dry. Both stretch to the horizon covered with tall grass. Occasionally I would hear bird call fro the tall grasses below but saw nothing I could take a picture of, 

Nothing is more emblematic then an air boat in the EvergladesThe channel along the dike is a major avenue for those fast but deafening monsters.

Off in the distance I saw something on the left side of the dike

 

Looking West.

 

 

 

 

Not what I was expecting to see on the edge of the Everglades.

I took my pictures and reflected on what it was or what it meant. A ghost of some forgotten tragedy? Filling a painful void?  I looked around. A flat breeze was doing little to keep the mosquitoes away.  I saw need to continue any further out into the emptiness down the road. I turned back.  As I walked my mind glazed over thinking about what I have just seen. I walked half halfheartedly scanning for animals, bugs or flowers.
I do not remember how far I walked or how far I wandered in thought when suddenly that little monkey-slash-lizard part of your brain deep deep down at the root took control of the whole program .

My body jolted with adrenaline as I saw the alligator off to my left
down below at the waters edge. 

 

There was plenty of room between us and I
felt embarrassed at how startled I as when it's image crystallized and
my ass puckered.  I was in no more danger then as if I were looking at a
dairy cow.  Remind me to tell you my dairy cow story later.

 

I moved around and took pictures of the alligator. It was about six to eight feet long. Look at it's head. At some point in this guys life something munched down hard on the right side of it's head.  The eyes are out of line and the skull is misshapen.  There is also that knob of scar tissue balled out on the head. The alligator was still, was it there when I walked out? How did I miss that? Something that big?  It really bothered me that it as dry. If it wasn't there when I walked out how long would it have taken it to dry when I as looking at Avalanche?  How long had I been out there? I had lost track of time and became UN-nerved. All this time I stared at the alligator, neither of us moved. Without any warning or a sound the alligator gracefully lifted up turned to it's left and slid into the water and stopped with it's tail exposed.  

 So, when you get to South Eastern Florida drop by and e-mail me an updated photo.
Hwy 27 (Orange Drive) and 818 (Griffin Road)

Go West.
Goggle Earth gave me these coordinates.
26° 3' 32" N 80° 26' 57" W
26° 03.5345 N 80° 26.9545 W
26.05891 N 80.44924 W

Tread lightly. Take care out there.