Celebrating Earth Day with River Otters

April 24, 2026 / Jet Eliot / 40 Comments

I had the joy of watching a trio of river otters at Point Reyes last week. They are a great example of a come-back species, one of many we celebrate this week with Earth Day.

The North American River Otter is a marine mammal that was primarily extirpated or severely reduced across much of the United States in the late 19th to early-to-mid 20th century. Many local extinctions, per the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, occurred between the 1900s and 1950s due to unregulated trapping for the fur trade, water pollution, and habitat destruction.

We are lucky in our lifetime to observe numerous species rebound, like river otters, due to major environmental regulations in the 1970s. This was when Earth Day was born, too. Thereafter, reintroduction and conservation efforts in the 1980s and 1990s helped restore populations.

River otters in Point Reyes National Seashore had disappeared by 1960. Then in the late 1980s three river otters were discovered near Tomales and since then they have expanded throughout their range.

The river otter sighting we enjoyed last week at Abbotts Lagoon was about the fifth or sixth time we have seen them here.

River otters are in the weasel family (Mustelidae) and share distinct physical and behavioral characteristics with weasels like elongated bodies, short legs, and carnivorous diets.

North American River Otter Wikipedia

This is the lagoon, below, and the footbridge; way in the back are sand dunes leading to the Pacific Ocean. Wild iris flowers in foreground.

Lontra canadensis are highly sociable and frequently play in water, which helps young ones learn hunting and survival skills.

They use various vocalizations and scents to communicate within their groups.

They also engage in what is called latrine behavior. River otters extensively use communal latrines near water edges to communicate, marking territory through feces and urine. These areas are also used for grooming, scent-marking, and playing.

They use these sites especially in spring and fall, and we were there last week to witness their curious scat dance.

One otter got out of the water, arched his back, stomped back and forth on his hind legs, then defecated (the otter in the center, below).

Right after that one of his buddies vigorously rolled around in the scat, top otter in photo below.

The three otters rolled around and cavorted in the dunes, then playfully slid back into the water and resumed their hunting.

Each otter disappeared under the water and came up with a fish wriggling in its jaws and rather savagely gobbled up the fish.

While the three otters romped and hunted, nearby great egrets and great blue herons quietly hunted tiny fish and stayed out of the way.

Every time we observe the river otters in this corner of the lagoon they are eating fish, their number one prey.

But they also eat crustaceans, like crayfish, also reptiles, amphibians, shrimp and some birds. I’ve read reports that an unusual behavior of the Abbotts Lagoon river otters has been spotted lately, preying on brown pelicans here, but I have never seen this.

We were lucky that day last week, watching and photographing this comical river otter dance at the quiet shoreline of the lagoon.

A raven pair acrobatically spun together in the sky above us while swallows built their mud nests under the footbridge. It was still too chilly for dragonflies or butterflies, but fuzzy caterpillars dotted the trail and the new salmonberries reached out for the sun.

The glories of spring on planet Earth.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Celebrating Earth Day with River Otters

April 24, 2026April 23, 2026 / Jet Eliot / 13 Comments

I had the joy of watching a trio of river otters at Point Reyes last week. They are a great example of a come-back species, one of many we celebrate this week with Earth Day.

River otters in Point Reyes National Seashore had disappeared by 1960. Then in the late 1980s three river otters were discovered near Tomales and since then they have expanded throughout their range.

The river otter sighting we enjoyed last week at Abbotts Lagoon was about the fifth or sixth time we have seen them here.

River otters are in the weasel family (Mustelidae) and share distinct physical and behavioral characteristics with weasels like elongated bodies, short legs, and carnivorous diets.

North American River Otter Wikipedia

This is the lagoon, below, and the footbridge; way in the back are sand dunes leading to the Pacific Ocean. Wild iris flowers in foreground.

Lontra canadensis are highly sociable and frequently play in water, which helps young ones learn hunting and survival skills.

They use various vocalizations and scents to communicate within their groups.

They use these sites especially in spring and fall, and we were there last week to witness their curious scat dance.

One otter got out of the water, arched his back, stomped back and forth on his hind legs, then defecated (the otter in the center, below).

Right after that one of his buddies vigorously rolled around in the scat, top otter in photo below.

The three otters rolled around and cavorted in the dunes, then playfully slid back into the water and resumed their hunting.

Each otter disappeared under the water and came up with a fish wriggling in its jaws and rather savagely gobbled up the fish.

While the three otters romped and hunted, nearby great egrets and great blue herons quietly hunted tiny fish and stayed out of the way.

Every time we observe the river otters in this corner of the lagoon they are eating fish, their number one prey.

We were lucky that day last week, watching and photographing this comical river otter dance at the quiet shoreline of the lagoon.

The glories of spring on planet Earth.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

February Day at Pt. Reyes

March 27, 2026March 26, 2026 / Jet Eliot / 45 Comments

On a wintry day last month, we ventured to Point Reyes National Seashore in northern California. The day began with drizzly rain and then it poured. After about an hour of pouring rain, the sun came out and we were frolicking in the sparkling freshness.

Apparently the wildlife was waiting for the rain to stop, too, because when it did, many species came out to forage.

This coyote below (Canis latrans) had some hunting to do after the storm had passed.

With a low cloud cover, raptors were closer than usual. Below are two photos of a red-tailed hawk, Buteo jamaicensis.

American Kestrels came out to join us, too (below). Falco sparverius are the smallest and most common falcon in North America.

That day we had a special guest with us, my sister, so we had a lot to show her on her first visit to Pt. Reyes. We headed for the elk reserve and had the joy of introducing her to her first elk.

There were several herds out. In the three photos below, the first photo is a female harem resting in the newly arrived sun, the second is a male, the third is a female. Cervus canadensis nannodes.

At this time of year when we have had a decent amount of winter rain, the hillsides are emerald and the mammals, in their robust bodies and vibrant winter coats, find plenty of prey.

Rains bring a healthy lifestyle to the countryside.

Cattle are being phased out of the park, but there are still some herds. The front left cow in the photo below is called an oreo cow, aka a Belted Galloway.

We also saw a pair of bobcats…for about ten seconds.

Bobcats (Lynx rufus) usually hunt solo; to see a pair is unusual. I think they were a mating pair.

They were truly lovely to see. But the winter rains yield tall grass which made them difficult to see, not a good photo to share.

Here’s a different bobcat (below) we saw in Point Reyes last year.

Exclusively native to North America, bobcats are in the Lynx family, though they are much smaller than the other lynx species. They are only about 50 inches (125 cm) long including the tail. The tail is short or “bobbed,” hence their name.

After we soaked up the earth animals and the breathtaking landscapes, we drove to Drakes Beach to see the elephant seals.

We hoped there were still some adults at the beach and were pleased to find many. These are the northern elephant seal, Mirounga angustirostris.

Unlike the other wildlife we’d seen that day, the elephant seal behavior was not altered from the rainstorm–they are creatures of the water.

But they won’t be here much longer because their mating and birthing activities are over.

Now that the next generation has been born and nearly all weaned, it is time for the adults to resume their hunting and feeding in the north near Alaska, they have been fasting since November and December. The pups, however, will stay until they teach themselves how to swim.

This is a bull, below.

As you can see from the statistic board posted that day, there were about 49 adults as well as weanlings and pups. Total seals: 124.

We could see a few of the pups had been born within the week, others had been born in late December, January and early February.

It was easy to pick out the newborns (wrinkly and lethargic) in comparison to the weeks-old pups (nursing and demanding). The young one in the photo below (front right) is a weanling, still dependent on the mother for milk.

The young ones scream a lot.

Since that day there has been, unfortunately, recent findings of a highly pathogenic avian influenza in elephant seals in southern California. The colony in Pt. Reyes, however, has not yet shown signs of the virus. Researchers from UC Santa Cruz, UC Davis and the Marine Mammal Center are monitoring and testing Pt. Reyes elephant seals frequently.

There were also plenty of surf scoters and marbled godwits that day on Drakes Beach. Both species are wintering birds and will soon head back “home” for their breeding cycle.

The surf scoters (first photo, below) will migrate for Alaska and Canada in a month or two; the marbled godwits (second photo, below) will head back to the prairies of northern U.S. and Canada in April and May.

Wherever we are, it is a delight to watch earth’s seasonal changes, reminding us that each month, each day, is a celebration of life.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Sacramento NWR–2026

February 6, 2026February 5, 2026 / Jet Eliot / 53 Comments

Last month we visited the Sacramento National Wildlife Refuge and it was a chilly day in the mid-40s (F.), but clear and sunny. I am happy to share another winter migration miracle with you.

This is a special place because it is on the Pacific Flyway–a major 10,000-mile North American migration route for over a billion birds from Arctic Alaska down to South America’s Patagonia.

In North America there are four primary migratory corridors or flyways. The Pacific Flyway, in green on the map below, covers the western states.

Located in the Central Valley of California, the Pacific Flyway hosts roughly 60% of the flyway’s wintering population. The
Sacramento NWR, where we were, is a complex that includes several wildlife areas.

The first time Athena and I visited here was on New Year’s Eve of 1993. We have been visiting the Sacramento Valley every winter since then…and always with reverence for the migrating birds as well as the humans who support this massive endeavor.

In our 33 years of birding adventures in this valley, we have seen tens of thousands of geese and ducks every year. There are also raptors, songbirds, waders, shorebirds, river otters, turtles, coyote, and more. (Black phoebe songbird, below.)

It is not by accident that the birds visit here. Decade after decade, many people devote themselves to this wildlife phenomenon. Agricultural contributions to habitat management are driven by private businesses, state-funded incentive programs, and collaborative partnerships.

The waterfowl migration management is the result of environmental programs that pay farmers to flood their fields post-harvest (October–February) to decompose straw, provide waste grain for forage, and offer critical stopover, foraging, and resting for the migratory birds.

More information here:California Wetland Program by Audubon Magazine

Snow geese are the primary migrating bird at the Sacramento National Wildlife Refuge, seen below. The Sutter Buttes are the mountains in the background.

You can see a white horizontal ribbon through the middle of the photograph, below. All that white is thousands of snow geese.

It is a true joy to return to this valley every winter. We are thrilled by the raucous squawking and honking of the geese and the spectacle of giant waves of hundreds and hundreds of these huge birds darkening the sky.

There are also several other kinds of geese, dozens of duck species, and numerous other bird species.

Most of the ducks and geese are just here for the winter. When the earth warms up, they will head back to their breeding grounds in the northern parts of the continent.

Every year we see this migrating duck species, below, the green-winged teal. We saw hundreds of them that day.

Also seen in abundance every winter are one of my favorite duck species: the Northern Pintail, seen below. This is a male Anas acuta drinking water. During the other seasons they are in their breeding grounds primarily in Canada and Alaska.

Some birds, like this western meadowlark below, live here year-round. Sturnella neglecta.

Every year is different depending on many conditions, especially weather.

Last month we were pleasantly surprised to spot a few Blue-winged Teal ducks, seen below. Spatula discors. We have not seen this bird here in over a decade. (Male on left, female on right.)

There are many species of shorebirds, too, like the long-billed dowitchers (below) and a curious killdeer (photo below that).

It will be in this month of February when most of the migrating birds will begin their return to their breeding grounds. If all goes well, in the fall they will be back.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

2025 Nature in Review

January 2, 2026December 31, 2025 / Jet Eliot / 74 Comments

Happy New Year dear friends. Here are some photos from America, coast to coast in all the seasons–12 nature moments in 2025. I am hoping you, too, have embraced beautiful sights in 2025.

JANUARY—We came upon this river otter while birding the Pacific Flyway winter migration in the San Joaquin Delta of California. Lontra canadensis.

FEBRUARY—The northern elephant seals (12 or more seen here) were tending their newborns on this chilly day at Drake’s Beach, Pt. Reyes, California. Mirounga augustirostris.

MARCH—A pair of mallards on the frigid water of the Chena River, Fairbanks, Alaska.

APRIL—Signs of spring at Abbotts Lagoon in Pt. Reyes, California. Wild douglas iris (Iris douglasiana).

MAY—A quiet boat ride down the Suwannee Canel at Okefenokee Swamp. Mossy cypress trees, black water, alligators silently traversing too.

JUNE—Spring emergence of the California Tortoiseshell butterflies on Mt. Ashland in Oregon. They were gathering sustenance from the tiny bell flowers of a blooming manzanita tree. Nymphalis californica.

JULY—Rural Illinois on a summer day, storm brewing, knee-high patches of wild prairie flowers between corn fields and farmhouses.

AUGUST—A boat ride on the San Francisco Bay at Tiburon, California, we were headed for a day of frolicking on Angel Island. Mt. Tamalpais reigning in the background.

SEPTEMBER—Breathing in the Pacific sea air at Bodega Head in Bodega Bay, California, as we waited for the fish shack to open for lunch.

OCTOBER—A cawing raven telling of the upcoming storm on this autumn day at Pt. Reyes, California. Corvus corax.

NOVEMBER—A foggy winter Wednesday on the Mendocino Coast, California. My birthday.

DECEMBER—A bird species we welcome in the winter at Pt. Reyes–the Say’s Phoebe, taking a momentary break from hawking insects. Sayornis saya.

Thank you, dear readers, for your visits and comments and interest this past year. A special thanks to my fellow bloggers for sharing the marvels of this planet with me.

Cheers to a new year ahead filled with more beauty…and the gifts to see it, smell it, hear it, feel it…hold it.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

The Long-billed Curlew

December 19, 2025December 18, 2025 / Jet Eliot / 53 Comments

Now that we’re in the middle of December, all of our winter birds in northern California have arrived. It is with great pleasure that I share a bit of information and photos featuring one of my favorite over-wintering shorebirds: the long-billed curlew.

The largest shorebird in North America, Numenius americanus have a distinctive long, downward-curved bill.

They also have gorgeous plumage with touches of mauve, in the right light, and cinnamon colors. There is a flourish of geometric shapes with speckling and barring.

The curlews will stay here on the shores of Pt. Reyes and other northern California coastal habitats until spring, around April. Additionally, they winter in parts of coastal Florida, Texas, and much of Mexico. (Range map below.)

They consume a robust winter diet with the use of their exquisitely long bills, probing deep into mud and sand for aquatic invertebrates.

How long is that bill? It’s about 5-7″ long (12.7-17.78 cm).

The curlews were busy probing and it was entertaining.

Most shorebirds probe the sand but some invertebrates, buried deep, cannot be reached. But the long-billed curlew can surpass what most shorebirds cannot reach.

Several times I watched a curlew dig up a buried sand crab and then drop it. There would sometimes be a few tries before the crab was conquered.

We enjoyed a blissfully quiet beach, the fog and briny aroma, and the shorebirds. Mid-December when so much of the world seems to be in distress or chaos, we quietly strolled this beach and absorbed the peace and beauty.

Both these birds, pictured below, are winter visitors. It is heartwarming to see both species back at Pt. Reyes after all these months of absence.

The long-billed curlew is on the left, the marbled godwit on the right. They often forage together.

We heard two curlews exchange a whistled vocalization, which reminded me that the curlew is named for its sound–an onomatopoeic moniker for its vocalization: a harsh whistled cur-lee.

In spring the long-billed curlews will migrate to their native habitat of dry grassland and sagebrush prairie where they feed on insects like beetles, grasshoppers, caterpillars, spiders, toads and more.

This seems a little different to me than many birds who migrate in winter from a cold coast to a warmer one, or a frigid grassland to a warmer one. To go from a grassland in summer to a coastal habitat in winter is slightly unusual. I like their flexibility.

When the earth warms, the curlews will return to their western North America breeding grounds, mainly the Great Plains and Great Basin.

Blue=wintering grounds. Orange=breeding grounds.

Range Map courtesy allaboutbirds.org

Shorebirds, for most birders, can be tricky to identify. Many of their colors are similar–whites, tans, browns, blacks–and their markings too. Some, like gulls, have different plumage for different life phases, which is confusing. Additionally, the light on a beach can be difficult with the sun, sand and water reflections often rendering birds as mere silhouettes.

But the long-billed curlew, with that gracefully curving extension, stands out in pure glory.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Mendocino, California

November 21, 2025February 7, 2026 / Jet Eliot / 41 Comments

We are off to the northern California coast today to fill our lungs with fresh briny sea air and experience the raw beauty of the Mendocino shoreline.

Before we get there, the road takes us past autumnal vineyards in Anderson Valley and then a redwood forest.

Northern California has had the fortune of rain throughout autumn. The vineyard leaves have been a rich combination of gold, orange and red. With each rain a few more deciduous grape leaves flutter to the ground.

Redwood trees thrive in the coastal areas of Northern California due to summer fog, mild temperatures, and winter rains. Many of the inland roads leading to the coast feature redwood groves.

We drove through this one, pictured below, on Highway 128. Navarro River Redwoods State Park.

We enjoyed the typical aspects of coastal redwood forests: dripping canopies and a redolent earthy aroma. The understory was glistening with sword ferns and clover-like sorrel. Our steps on the soft, red needle carpet were hushed.

Mature trees here were second-growth, about 200-240 feet tall (61-73m). Second-growth trees are the most common redwoods we see in California today. Sequoia sempervirens. These have been cut once, usually logged in the 1800s, and have now grown back.

The really big giants, i.e. old-growth, that have never been cut, comprise less than 5% of the redwoods in California.

We have the intrepid Save the Redwoods League to thank for protecting our redwoods.

As glorious as all this is, it’s time to get back in the car and head to Mendocino.

The narrow, winding roads are always tricky on these redwood stretches because the trees keep growing; there are places where a solid, tall redwood is just a few arm-lengths from your car.

Twenty minutes later we have reached the coastal highway, Highway 1–the longest state route in California, spanning 656 miles (1,056 km).

Many worldwide visitors come to California to see Highway 1, take in the Pacific Ocean and its majestic beauty. Most folks, however, visit the Big Sur section of the highway in southern California.

Today we are at the opposite end, in the north. It takes us to the town and county of Mendocino.

Typical of northern California shorelines, the Mendocino coast is a rugged coast with rocky cliffs, sea arches and rustic beaches.

Geographically situated at the junction of three tectonic plates, this coast has been rocked and jolted throughout the centuries. Pacific, North American and Gorda plates.

It is the rocky coastline and dense fog that has made the Mendocino coast notorious for shipwrecks. The shipwreck of the Frolic in 1850 is what led shipmates, in a salvaging effort, to the discovery of a redwood forest. This soon brought in loggers and settlers, and the new town of Mendocino was born.

There are many small islands on this part of the coast, like the ones photographed above and below. They are a perfect spot for sea birds to forage and preen in peace–no humans or land predators.

The water is never still here. Waves are forever crashing against the miles and miles of jagged rocks and cliffs. Jetties, tidepools, sea foam, driftwood in spots. Sea palms on the rocks get swooshed and jostled by rhythmic waves.

The scenic town of Mendocino caters largely to tourists. It is a small, unincorporated town of great beauty with a population of not quite 1,000. The village was founded around a mill in the 1850s and attracted settlers who built Victorian-style homes, churches, and stores, creating a historic architecture that is a major draw for tourists.

There are pricey shops and restaurants, many breathtaking views of the ocean wherever you go, and an ambience of mellow quirkiness and charm.

Summers here are busy, winter days less so. The ocean, in the photo below, is at the end of this downtown street.

I cannot highlight Mendocino California without addressing the town’s name to fame: Murder She Wrote. It was a popular TV series from 1984 to 1996 featuring Angela Lansbury as Jessica Fletcher who solved an uncanny number of murders in the small fictional town of Cabot Cove represented by Mendocino. Opening credits and some scenes feature the Mendocino coast. Jessica’s “home” is here, too. It’s called Blair House on Lake Street and is now a small inn.

For a short time, we walked around the town and cemetery, but it was always the coast that was drawing us in. We spent most of our time frolicking along the water’s edge–walking trail paths, birding, and eating take-out meals overlooking the sea.

We found this white-crowned sparrow in a bramble of berries and cotoneaster. He steadily plucked and ate one wild blackberry after another.

Brown pelicans, double-crested cormorants, western gulls, sparrows and many other birds kept us entertained. We saw a few sea lions, too.

There was a hardy female Anna’s hummingbird who greeted us often, the last photo.

Originally the drive home was going to include another stretch of Highway 1 and the Point Arena Lighthouse, but the fog was so thick that morning we could barely see the road. We’ll have to come back for that.

At the end of our three-day stay, back we drove through the dripping redwoods, back through the vineyards that had lost more leaves, and inland to home.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Spooky Animals

October 31, 2025October 30, 2025 / Jet Eliot / 55 Comments

For our Halloween fun today, it’s a good time to look at wild animals that give us a slight chill. Wild animals have a rawness that is unpredictable and can indeed be spooky.

These are not even some of the very scariest animals (like a hyena) because I don’t want to give you nightmares.

We start with a fellow mammal, a Halloween specialty, the bat. This one is a spectacled flying fox. We came upon a colony in a forest in northern Queensland, Australia.

You can see in the photo below the bat looks bespectacled, for which it is named.

Some of the creatures here just look spooky because they’re different, but others really are spooky for how dangerous they can be.

Below is a male African buffalo. We were in Zambia, Africa and more than once our jeep came from behind tall grass and there one would be, glaring at us.

Took my breath away a few times.

His left eye is scarred and half-shut, no doubt the result of a fight. A typical male, like this one, weighs 1,650 pounds (750 kg).

This hippo, below, was scarred and surly. Some people may think hippos are kind of cute, but when you are near one in the wild, you immediately grasp the sobering presence they exude.

Hippos are fast–faster than they look.

Below are warthogs we came upon in Zambia; they had been digging for roots and tubers. Long, flat snouts, sharp tusks and soulless eyes. A strong-legged and very fast animal.

While on a safari walk, the guide told us to stay away from ground holes because the warthogs cleverly back into burrows, out of sight, and come charging out tusk first if they are threatened.

There are many intimidating African animals in the wild, but we’ll look at just two more, seen in Botswana.

The male lion, below. I think we all know to fear this formidable creature. They swagger confidently and have piercing golden eyes and when it’s the right time, they pounce and tear flash like the warriors they are.

This is a cobra we encountered. The snake’s hood (neck) is flared and its head is up, ready to strike.

Shimmery and golden in the African sun, but deadly.

Let’s hop on our witchy broomstick to head over to the western hemisphere, look at more spooky creatures.

Galapagos Islands. Far out in the Pacific Ocean about 600 miles (1,000 km) from the mainland, the wildlife has evolved in isolation, unaccustomed to humans.

These two wild iguana species, below, were not dangerous to be around, but just so incredibly unusual. Absolutely prehistoric looking.

The only living lizard that forages in the sea, marine iguanas are slow on land but graceful under water. We saw hundreds of them basking on rocks and even found a few in the water when we were snorkeling.

In 1835 Charles Darwin reported the Galapagos black lava rocks were frequented by these “most disgusting, clumsy lizards.” That seems a bit harsh–he probably found them on one of the days he was having stomach troubles.

Equally as curious-looking were the land iguanas. Here is a pair, below.

Peeling skin, crusty faces, long rat-like tails and gnarled claws.

Let’s head to Central America next. But yikes, this broomstick is so uncomfortable. Let’s switch to a magic carpet.

This American Crocodile, below, was churlishly staring at us as our little boat cruised by. Look at that mouth. Even when the chops are shut you know there’s pointy, sharp teeth lurking inside. How many teeth? About 65.

The array of spooky insects we have on this planet is immense. Many are very cool, but I’m taking it easy on you today. I’ve just got one for you, the assassin bug, below.

They’re called assassin bugs because they use an “assassination” method to hunt and kill. They ambush their prey, then grab them with their front legs, inject them with paralyzing saliva and then suck out the liquefied innards.

Heading north to America for the last two spooky creatures.

We were eating our sandwiches inside the car in a parking area when this big bison wandered very close to us, apparently attracted to the mud puddle. We could hear its steady, heavy breathing.

We were of course thrilled but a little nervous.

They’re faster than they look too, faster than most horses.

Lastly, my own backyard. We lived on an isolated mountain top and in the summer it was hot and dry.

This mature rattlesnake, below, hung out with us one summer.

We agreed not to bother each other, and it worked out. Why did we do that? Because the rattlesnake kept the rodent population under control.

Its head is in the center of the photo below, and it is looking at you. Rattles are on the right; there are 7 or 8 or 9?

It rattled at us a couple of times that summer, but we quickly got the message.

There’s something so gripping and powerful about wild animals. Add to that the dark superstitions of this holiday that go back centuries, and we have ourselves a spooky Halloween.

Happy Halloween!

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

Spectacled Owl with Fer-de-lance Snake, Belize

Autumn Day at Pt. Reyes

October 24, 2025October 24, 2025 / Jet Eliot / 65 Comments

It is always a breath of fresh air to visit Pt. Reyes in Northern California. We go once a month and it is a different and thrilling adventure every time, cycles of the season are always in play.

Our day trip last week was a typical coastal mid-October day. It was chilly and overcast.

We hiked the path at Abbott’s Lagoon, overview seen below–way out in the distance, on the left-hand side at the horizon is a ribbon of the ocean. The sea was relatively calm that day.

With that stormy-looking sky and low cloud cover, there were many raptors on the ground, waiting on the thermals for their lift-off.

This red-tailed hawk, below, perched patiently on a very small post.

An osprey was busy with its catch of the day on a fence, below. We have never seen osprey here so this was a treat. We kept expecting it to take off, but then our optics had that answer–the osprey was preoccupied with a fish in its talons.

Ravens, too, are usually high above us, cawing loudly about one thing or another. But that day, there were several grounded and in our midst. One of my favorite birds, the ravens were especially gorgeous with their shiny black feathers.

The coastal chaparral had advanced into its winter state since last month’s visit. Neither the coyote bush nor the lupine had any more flowers, but the bushes were animated with all the usual birds who hide underneath.

The California quail, this male below in his sentinel position, had a fluttery flock of young ones hidden below among the woody limbs. They were hidden but not quiet. The young ones will soon learn the importance of being quiet, but for now they had dad on the post keeping an eye out.

The white-crowned sparrows, ubiquitous along the Abbotts Lagoon trail, were dapper in their plumage. These individuals on the coast are year-round but further inland we’re seeing more of them arriving to winter with us, they come from Alaska and the Rocky Mountains.

Their song melts my heart and I’m thrilled they’re here for the winter, link below.

Bird Song link: White-crowned Sparrow by Joe Morlan

For the last few months there have been Bewick’s wrens in a patch of coyote bushes near the road, and this one frequently popped out in its dogged pursuit of insects. This wren species does not occur east of the Mississippi, but we have them here in California year-round. It is a joy to watch these noisy nimble birds.

After our hike and teatime, we drove up the road to check on the elk, driving slowly so as not to miss any critters.

This coyote below, camouflaged in the landscape, was our reward.

The coyote, too, was getting a winter coat. Usually the coyotes are prowling in the tall grass and chaparral, hunting, but on this cold, sleepy day it seemed to be naptime.

We have been observing an interesting new phenomenon lately with the elk at Point Reyes. Since a recent lawsuit settlement and the departure of dairy ranches, the elk have gradually been expanding from the reserve into the abandoned ranches.

Below is a herd of female elk grazing beside the open gate of a defunct dairy ranch.

This tule elk bull below, who doesn’t care anything about human lawsuits, was focused on keeping his harem together. The last two months they have been bugling a lot in the middle of their rutting season–a time for them to attract females and warn other males of their dominance. But the rutting season is waning now.

What a joy to see it all: the raptors rearranging their day with the lack of thermals, the elk discovering a bigger space, and the birds and mammals going about their business of resting and hunting and raising their young.

Soon the elephant seals will be making their way here from the Aleutian Islands in Alaska and the migrating shorebirds will be arriving for the winter too.

And when we come back next month, we will have our winter coats on.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.

The Beauty of Frogs

October 10, 2025October 9, 2025 / Jet Eliot / 48 Comments

We have had rainy days recently in northern California, and I heard two different ribbiting toads in the woods on my morning walk. It got me thinking about all my friends the amphibians and the beauty of frogs.

There are over 6,000 species of frogs in the world. We’ll look today at a few of my favorites.

Although some frog species live in frozen tundra and deserts, most of the world’s frogs live in tropical forests in freshwater swamps and swampy habitats.

A frog breathes through its skin, so if a frog is not wet, it cannot breathe. It also needs water to reproduce. Interestingly, a frog doesn’t even drink, it absorbs water directly through the skin.

In California, a typically dry place, there are comparatively few frog species. The California Dept. of Fish and Wildlife states there are 51 amphibian species and about half of those are frogs and toads. (Brazil has 1,175.)

We do, however, have significant winter precipitation in northern California, yielding frogs and toads during the rainy months.

Our most common frog is the Pacific tree frog aka the chorus frog (Pseudacris regilla). It is a very small frog, pictured below, about two inches (5 cm) long.

For several years Athena and I collected tadpoles in a water-filled ditch near our rural home. Around April the ditch water would start to evaporate as the rains subsided and the California sun burned longer.

So we made up a large tray in our backyard with water, rocks and dead leaves and transferred the tadpoles before the ditch water disappeared. We watched our tray daily as dozens of tadpoles grew.

One of the most miraculous things about frogs is their metamorphosis.

While still in their birthplace, the ditch, the unformed Pacific tree frogs were jelly-like clusters of eggs. Not long after that the eggs had hatched and reached their larval stage: tadpoles. There were hundreds of tiny black dots, each one swimming with a tiny tail. Every day there were more.

Then the tadpoles grew bigger and eventually tiny legs emerged, first in back and then in front.

When the tadpole is still very young, they have both the tail and legs.

The photo below demonstrates both stages on one leaf: one tadpole with legs (left) and the one on the right who has not yet grown legs.

Eventually the froglet’s body completely absorbs the tail, and before long a fully formed, tailless frog hops away.

Frog vocalizations are also an exciting phenomenon. If you are near a pond or languid water source during their mating season, especially at night, it can be gloriously deafening.

For us in coastal California it’s a chorus of ribbits, hence their name chorus frog. It usually happens in January and February.

Widespread in the eastern U.S. are the spring peepers (one seen below) who announce the beginning of spring with shrill, repetitive “peep-peep-peep” calls. Pseudacris crucifer.

Only males make the sounds, to attract mates. They have vocal sacs that expand and deflate to create their sound. The link below is a 21-second video of a male inflating his vocal sacs.

Male Mediterranean Tree Frog YouTube link

In tropical climates, there are numerous frog species.

This painted reed frog (below) we found in Zambia is the most colorful frog I’ve ever seen. It’s not poisonous.

Across the globe, we had a chance to observe two poison dart frog species in a Costa Rican rainforest on a birding trip. These frogs are diurnal.

There were two teenage brothers in our group (accompanying their birder parents). They were amateur herpetologists, and they were impressively adept at finding frogs and lizards, which I found thrilling.

The boys were bold and experienced in turning over many moldy logs, rocks and leaves that I never would have touched, and came up with many cool lizards and the green-and-black poison dark frog (Dendrobates auratus), below.

If the poison dart frog toxin gets into your bloodstream, it can make your heart stop. But if you don’t touch it or eat it you are fine, which is the behavior we chose.

Poison dart frogs absorb toxins from their diet (mostly ants) and that’s how the frog becomes toxic.

We had the most fun with the strawberry poison dart frog (Oophaga pumilio).

We found a place in a forest where a ranger had told us we might find it. By this time our little group was gone, but Athena and I were emboldened by the boys and had set out to find this dazzling tiny frog.

We had to quietly, slowly, carefully walk through a mucky low-grass field that was also a mosquito haven. After each step there followed an ankle-level mosquito cloud. We waited to see if any little red frog hopped out of the way.

We found one!

Frogs in psychedelic colors and patterns, tadpole bodies that grow legs and absorb tails, ballooning face sacs, and a nighttime cacophony of spring reverie–an incredible creature we have here on earth.

Written by Jet Eliot.

Photos by Athena Alexander.