Amount'in to Something

Yellow-backed spiny lizard, Sceloporus uniformis.

Since moving to OC I started delving into the local societies. My first mark was the Sea & Sage Audubon Society, the local chapter of the great birding organization. For me, basically the American equivalent of the RSPB.

The initial port of call, one which I make with any society, is quickly jumping to "field trips" and seeing what was on. Before I knew it I was up at 4am, waiting for my associates to arrive. Not too long ago I was sitting at my desk with dreamy eyes scouring over an itinerary of a grand trip to the mountain wilderness surrounding Mammoth Lakes. Throughout my life I had seen many amazing trips similar in description, but for one reason or another there was no chance to attend them. That changed.

24th June itself was not a trip day, but an earlier respite intended to accommodate the long 5 hour or so drive from OC up through the country of California. Luckily my associates, Vic Leipzig and Steve Sosensky, were avid birders, which meant some interesting stops enroute.

Our first stop was in the pleasant little community of Randsburg, in Kern County just off the 395. Here we looked for and found chukar which bumbled about in lazy flocks throughout the town outskirts. A series of large, imposing lizards peered down from over the rocks with spiny scales and beady eyes. These reptiles evaded our efforts to identify them through field guides, but eventually I learned they were yellow-backed spiny lizards. Before leaving this community I had also picked up the unusual desert willow and desert bird of paradise from the car window.

Desert willow, Chilopsis linearis.

Our next stop was the remains of the once vast Owen's Lake, where the remaining marshy habitat got me car window views of Nevada bulrush. Seeing a great quanity of American avocets was a fascinating experience given I had only seen single birds in the past, the most recent several years ago. At some vantage points while birding I sneaked in a look at plants nearby, giving me Parry's saltbush and greasewood. I was really hoping to get some dragonflies here as my California dragonfly experience is exceedingly low, but I struck out. This was more than compensated though by the spectacle of what must have been more than 100 of one of my greatest nemesis birds, the tricoloured wonder that was Wilson's phalarope. Although many were not at the peak of breeding plumage they were still a marvel to behold!

American avocet, Recurvirostra americana.

Wilson's phalarope, Phalaropus tricolor.

At a fishery near Blackrock we searched unsuccessfully for LeConte's thrasher. Here I had my first looks at an interesting ode by the name of 8-spotted skimmer, as well as the silvery leaves of the introduced Russian olive. The latter is a long-awaited tick, and very uncommon in California where it is overshadowed by the regular olive species.

We then checked out a spot along 5 Bridges Road for returning sand martins, where although we did not see them I scoped a new plant growing on the gravel beside the car in the form of annual turtleback.

8-spotted skimmer, Libellula forensis.

Russian olive, Elaeagnus angustifolia.

After this we soon homed in on Mammoth proper, but not before checking out Tom's Place. Here a white-ruffled creek slashed its way through an incredible landscape of open sage and distant, snowy mountains. Although birding was low, save semi-decent views of pinyon jay, it was an incredible location and I may have spent far too long observing flora than I should have. This foray got me long-anthered rush, two-color phacelia, tall buckwheat, woolly mule's ears, Bruneau mariposa lily, Sierra tansy-mustard, panicled bulrush, a good candidate for yellow willow, and the well-named chocolate drops. That is not ignoring the resplendent beauty of a green jewel beetle, likely Chrysobothrix nelsoni. I first spotted it from afar on a sprig of tall buckwheat, Eriogonum elatum, before the BCG (Bup. chasing game) commenced. Whenever I find one of these beetles they immediately take off as soon as I lock eyes on them. Can they tell that I've spotted them from a distance?

An interesting series of dark, pruinose aphids on buckwheat was certainly a new species for me, but given the gross lack of knowledge on this vast group it may never receive an ID. On a related note I found the native two-spotted ladybug, Adalia bipunctata, on water birch near the creek. This once common species is very rare in North America, besides Canada where it still flourishes. What a find!

Two-color phacelia, Phacelia bicolor.

Bruneau's mariposa lily, Calochortus bruneaunis.

Chocolate drops, Caulanthus pilosus.

The jewel beetle Chrysobothrix nelsoni.

Mystery aphids on Eriogonum elatum.

We then headed down to the promising site of Convict Lake, where somehow the only lifer I managed to pick up was Lemmon's willow! Perhaps some more time down by the lake would have helped.

Lemmon's willow, Salix lemmonii.

With the day coming to a close we hit Mammoth Creek Park in Mammoth Lakes itself, which with its extensive riparian was one of the most promising sites yet. Soon I had amassed several interesting plants, including more life ticks than I could handle. Those being: Pacific willow, aspen onion, carrotleaf biscuitroot, diffuse groundsmoke, Leichtlin's mariposa lily, mountain alder, slendertube skyrocket (what a great name!), pinyon goosefoot, grand collomia, star-flowered lily-of-the-valley, roundleaf snowberry, narrow-leaved mountain trumpet, orchard grass, springbank clover, Rydberg penstemon, cold desert phlox, tobacco brush, dwarf purple monkeyflower, long-stalked clover, and one of my wishlist plants: spurry buckwheat.

As fascinating as insect life was I only had two lifers in that department, the gall-making Aceria parapopuli which creates odd formations on aspen, and an abundance of the pine-loving cicada Okanagana bella which, try as I might, I could not get any looks at.

22 lifers in 1 hour is brilliant for a state I've lived in for several years already!

Woolly mule's ears, Wyethia mollis.

Aspen onion, Allium bisceptrum.

Leichtlin's mariposa lily, Calochortus leichtini.

Slendertube skyrocket, Ipomopsis tenuituba.

Grand collomia, Collomia grandiflora.

Orchard grass, Dactylis glomerata, unfortunately a notorious weed.

Spurry buckwheat, Eriogonum spergulinum.

With daylight slipping from our grasp we hit Mammoth Rock Trail. As we were surrounded by wilderness, we were halted by a strange, eerie sound that beat through the forest. For a while, silence, until again it resounded in a continuous stream of slow, echoing murmurs. Bwoh, bwoh, bwoh, bwoh, bwoh. And then again, for another while, silence.

Although the phantom calls were fleeting and only barely in the range of hearing, they had just enough presence to leave a resonant, beating echo in the ears. At times this echo felt louder than the real sound itself, which made for an interesting phenomenon. This extremely low frequently series of calls came from one of the real guardians of the mountain wilderness, the sooty grouse.

With some effort we worked together to place this vague, ethereal sound in a canopy of 100 trees. Eventually we narrowed it down to 3 adjacent trees, slightly isolated from the rest of the forest, and relentlessly scoured the branches. Soon 20 minutes had passed since first hearing this bird, and we were still out of luck. The bird was so close, yet still invisible! But after a little frustration we eventually we found it, cosied up in the canopy of a particular fir tree. The bird was much larger than I expected!. It was remarkable how long it took us to find it.

Sooty grouse, Dendragapus fuliginosus.

Before finishing for the day I made sure to pick out Fendler's meadow rue and pinemat manzanita before heading back to Mammoth Lakes. On some weedy roadside verges I located some feral populations of Rocky Mountain penstemon and ox-eye daisy of all things! The day ticks did not end until light had truly left the day, with a stunning yellow douglas fir borer and large counts of the moth Xanthorhoe defensaria, both visiting the lights outside our lodgings at Mountainback.

Yellow douglas fir borer, Centrodera spurca.

Xanthorhoe defensaria.

Only then, after amassing more than 50 lifers for the day, could I truly rest, and prepare for the real deal tomorrow morning.

As always, you can view my sightings from this day on iNaturalist.

Scouting Mission

Okanagana vanduzeei.

With an hour to spare I dropped by the Awna Road side of Aliso Canyon Wilderness Park, a local site which I have not yet had the chance to browse. I had no real plans as 1 hour was not enough to achieve much, so I spent most of my time around the early parts of the trail.

On arrival I was greeted by the ubiquitous droning of the omnipresent cicada Okanagana vanduzeei, one of our regular chaparral and non-chaparral singers. This particular cicada was actually in sight and just beside the trail, which is unusual although I've seen them close up before. In the native plant garden surrounding the car park I found the unusual tangling stems of sharp-leaved fluvellin, an introduced weed in California.

Sharp-leaved fluvellin, Kickxia elatine.

By a section of the creek I found a tiny, ornate wolf spider skating over shallow water, the aptly named Arctosa littoralis. While photographing this spider a surprise greater roadrunner popped up of the undergrowth nearby. Unfortunately it did not stick around long enough for me to switch my macro lens out for the telephoto. Bugger!

This surprisingly well watered habitat was also home to several damselflies and dragons, few of which with any mind to keep still. They can be very inconsiderate ! Although one dragonfly did keep itself in view long enough to be identified, which was the pale-faced clubskimmer. My attempts at photographing it in flight were quite miserable but I do have something to show for it fortunately.

Asian clams shell populated the shore as well. I'm still undecided whether to count them or not. I'd much rather find them alive. But maybe some of them were...

Arctosa littoralis.

Pale-faced clubskimmer, Brechmorhoga mendax.

I then scoured the willows and mule fat plants nearby, and had a few frustrating escapes of potential new insects, such as an odd hunch-backed fly, which I caught for a few seconds only for it to pry its way out through the tiny crack of my box lid. Unfortunately vegetation had caught itself in-between the box and its lid which created just enough space for it to escape. On reflection I made the wrong choice on jumping on it. I was worried it would take off but it was actually quite settled on the plant. I could have managed a lens switch and a few photos first!

I'll take the fruit fly Tephritis californica on the mule fat as compensation...for now!

Tephritis californica.

My choice of path then took me into one of the most dry grasslands I have ever seen. Before deciding to turn back I found a single plant of sprawling saltbush, which may have been one of the least inspiring and plain-looking weeds in the universe, along with a strange sagebrush-like shrub that I can't identify at this time.

Sprawling saltbush, Atriplex suberecta.

Does anyone know this shrub!?

Back near the creek I stopped by to watch a suspiciously slow-flying wasp. My suspicions were confirmed when it landed; not a wasp, but a moth! This was the strawberry crown moth, a member of the clearwing moth family which constitutes a series of day-flying wasp mimics. Fascinating creatures but so hard to find...Another creek surprise was an unusual butterfly that flickered between dark brown and bright orange. When it landed under the leaves of some shaded plants it finally clicked: fatal metalmark. There are very few butterfly species in the world that will perch upside-down on the leaves of plants. Most of those occur in the tropical Amazon. This is a very uncommon butterfly that I have been hoping to see for a while, so it was welcomed!

Strawberry crown moth, Synanthedon bibionipennis.

Fatal metalmark, Calephelis nemesis, illuminated by camera flash.
From this view it is clear where the name "metalmark" comes from,
thanks to the silvery...well, marks.

And a slightly iffy photograph of the wing spread...ah, it'll do I suppose.
This is one of those photos that I look back on at home and
badly regret my choice of camera settings!

The day was finished up by not one but two additional moths, Phaneta subminima, and the aptly- named olive-shaded bird dropping moth, Ponometia candefacta. For an hour foray in the middle of summer drought that was surprisingly productive! I must revisit this site more in future...

Olive-shaded bird dropping moth, Ponometia candefacta.

To the Point!

Almost decent shot of a Cal gnatcatcher.

The toughest decision anyone can face. You have the time to visit somewhere...but where!?

After a bit of mental gymnastics, I had an inclination to focus on tuna crabs. This has been a swarm year for this normally unseen pelagic species, and locals had been reporting them from Dana Point harbour in the same county. As much as all crustaceans have a fascinating life history, this particular species was certainly one of the most unique. It's visibility this year likely stemmed from El Nino conditions, which may not return for years, or even decades, making this a special opportunity.

I spent the first portion of the morning on the trails at Dana Point, and came across a peculiar lump of sand shuffling around. It turns out that, in retrospect, it was a mistake to pick it up and rub the sand off...because the sand was actually a layer of fine hairs that often contributes to this beetle's unique appearance. As such I can only lament as I present the least dusty dusty june beetle the world has ever seen. Oops!

Dusty june beetle, Amblonoxia palpalis.

Besides this, there wasn't a whole lot to see. It must have been a bit unseasonal, as even the plants were quite dry, and it was mostly just sand and shrubs about with little life. But a bit of colour was then to spruce up the day, as I walked back to the main road. A large sulphur, probably cloudless, which is a common urban visitor. Except, quite a bit more orangey yellow than usual.

Some sort of sulphur butterfly.

It turns out this was the large orange sulphur, a subtropical butterfly that is very rare in California. However, as I was chasing this butterfly hoping it would land, I saw a second individual flutter past as well! This one did perch, and the photos were much more appealing.

Large orange sulphur, Phoebis agarithe. It is large. And orange.

It turns out that this species has started colonizing, utilizing its host plant, as planted in urban sprawl, to substantiate its spread. As such, it seems this species will quickly become an annual occurrence in Orange County in the years ahead. Very interesting!

Waving away the orange flame, I scoured the east side of the nature trail, en route to the nature center. I noticed the yellow globes of western coastal wattle. An invasive species here originating from Australia, fond of the likeness of its climate that California offers. A new species for me, at least.

Western coastal wattle, Acacia cyclops.

While loosely scanning for Opuntia x vaseyi among the usual prickly pears, I came across the buzzing of a new bee fly for me, Thyridanthrax nugator, which humbly alighted on the gravel beside the path. Quite a well-patterned species, and one I've been aware of but not seen until today.

Thyridanthrax nugator.

Cacama crepitans, the coastal species of cactus dodge cicada, cackled nearby, not to be seen today. But meanwhile I was occupied with some somewhat confiding California gnatcatcher. Seeing this bird today reminded me that only a few months ago I was scrambling hillsides trying to get no more than a shadowy glimpse of this local specialty.

A decent shot of a California gnatcatcher.

To add to the new invasives, I bumped into some young plants of the horrifyingly noxious cape smilax. Such an innocent and unassuming looking plant, but one that is fond of establishing a hold over native shrubs.

An innocent and unassuming looking plant.

From there, it was time to hit the harbour, finally. Immediately I spotted the scarlet bobbing of a tuna crab at the surface, a species that is evidently adept at swimming. What was only single digits at first soon became double, and potentially hundreds under the shade of the harbour buildings. Mission accomplished!

Tuna crab, Pleuroncodes planipes.

Other overdue life checks for me in the harbour included rudderfish, garibaldi, and something which my dad has the real credit for finding, Haller's round ray! Now on to the next!

Haller's round ray, Urobatis halleri.