Weekend Under the Redwoods

My love of the California Redwood trees is at odds with my enthusiasm for birding. Forests of giant redwoods are not particularly good places to look for birds, as relatively few bird species live in the deep shade of these forests. But last week the redwoods won out over the birds as I was making by weekend plans, and I went camping among the redwoods trees and banana slugs of Big Basin Redwood State Park, near Santa Cruz, California. The birding actually turned out not to bad.

I took off a few hours early from work on Friday, May 6th. (I’d given them 40 hours and more already. I wasn’t cheating anyone.) It took me about an hour to load up the wagon and about an hour and a half to drive to the park (the last half-hour for the last ten miles of narrow, twisty mountain road) and I was registering at the park office by about 4:30. The camp ground I stayed in was very no-frills. A fire pit, a picnic table, and a designated spot on the ground were about the limit of the amenities. Plus there was a 100 foot walk from my parking space to the actual camp site. But I much prefer the no-frills, walk-in camp sites. It just doesn’t seem like a complete camping experience if person next door is running an air conditioner.

And, of course, one aspect of the camp site was incomparable: you could step out of the door of your tent in the morning and put you hand on a beautiful living thing that was already growing before the English language existed.

After I had my camp site set up the way I wanted it, I took a drive to the near-by town of Boulder Creek for a hot meal at a nice little cafe.

Saturday morning I was up an on the trail by about 5:30. My destination was a craggy peak called “Buzzard’s Roost”. I didn’t see any buzzards on this walk, but I did see a Short-eared Owl flying over head. That was exciting, since I had never seen one before. Since a redwood forest was not the normal habitat for this species, I assume he was on his way to somewhere else. This particular trail had more oaks and low scrubby growth than redwoods. There were quite a few birds in this area, but they were mostly invisible in the foliage. This was birding by ear, which is the most challenging way to do it, but I used to be quite good at it, and I am starting to get good at it again. I counted twenty-five species on that walk, most of which I was able to identify by voice, either on the spot, or from my notes once I got back to my apartment and compared them to recordings.

I took two hikes that day, one in the morning, from about five-thirty to noon, and one later in the day from three until about nine. The long break in between was because I was battling a bad cold that day and needed to take it easy. As I almost always do, I walked at a very leisurely pace, stopping frequently to look at birds, butterflies, flowers, female hikers, and any other pretty sights which caught my attention. The trail I took in the afternoon took me past thousands of showy ivory-colored flowers which I never did learn the name of, but which were something in the iris family.

The final walk back to my camp site looked like it was going to turn into a real adventure. Here, the word “adventure” means an experience which is a lot more fun to read about than to actually live through. I had underestimated how much time it would take to get back to the tent, and by the end it was getting pretty dark. The flashlight I had with me was just about powerful enough to show me my feet once it got really dark, and the trail was muddy, slippery, and uneven.

Then, just as I was about a hundred yards from the camp site, something happened which made the whole muddy experience worthwhile. An owl called from a tree just over my head. A Western Screech-owl! A life-list bird!

If you don’t see how a few moments of hearing an owl calling in the darkness can more than make up for muddy jeans, wet socks, and stubbed toes, then you are not a birder, and I can probably never explain it to you.

The next day it started raining about five o’clock, just before my alarm clock went off. But nine, it was looking like it was going to rain all day. So, mindful of the fact that I wanted to get over my cold, rather than have it progress to pneumonia, I finally packed up my camping stuff and, after breakfast at the café in Boulder Creek, headed home. (Yeah, I wimped out.)

So that was my camping trip. How was your weekend?