Bay Station Loves the Bay: Music & Sailing Adventure

Wow, what a ride the past weekend has been. Bay Station completed its mission on Memorial Day, sailing from Richmond to Alameda after a music-filled few days with some of our favorite friends in music. Below is just a sampling of some of the tiny boat concerts staged on Espresso. Check out the Bay Station Facebook page for full videos! Thanks to all those who participated!

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Be Your Own Bird & Help Migratory Birds

It's World Migratory Bird Day! Be Your Own Bird AND Help Birds - Buy "Be Your Own Bird"  and I'll donate half the proceeds to bird conservation efforts:

World Migratory Bird Day is an annual, UN-backed global awareness-raising and environmental education campaign focused on migratory birds and the need for international cooperation to conserve them.
"World Migratory Bird Day is celebrated each year to highlight the need for the conservation of migratory birds and their habitats. More than 300 events in more than 60 countries to mark World Migratory Bird Day 2018 (registered on the website) will include bird festivals, education programmes, media events, bird watching trips, presentations, film screenings and a benefit concert to raise funds for international nature conservation. The Convention on Migratory Species (CMS) and the African-Eurasian Migratory Waterbird Agreement (AEWA) — two intergovernmental wildlife treaties administered by UN Environment — organize the campaign in cooperation with Environment for the Americas (EFTA). EFTA works with diverse partners to provide English and Spanish educational materials and information about birds and bird conservation throughout the Americas. Their programmes inspire children and adults to go outdoors, learn about birds, and participate in their conservation. www.worldmigratorybirdday.org/partners"

Bird Songs: "All Over Ohio", "Birds Fly South" & "Scarecrow"

photo by Don McCullough

As I'm one of those lifelong bird people (I considered a bird-related career path in college, studying natural history and working to release peregrine falcons for the Predatory Bird Research Group) I notice the actual and metaphorical birds wherever I am, and birds tend to show up routinely in my own writing. But even music lovers who are the most disinclined to ornithology know many bird-related songs: The Beatles "Blackbird," Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" and Skynyrd's "Freebird" (like it or not) are pretty much of the modern-day canon. At a concert last summer, I was struck again at how often birds appear in lyrics, even among songwriters that aren't really "birders." The past few months I've started "collecting" contemporary (post-2000) bird-referencing songs, and will be sharing my favorites here. Know of a fairly-recent "bird song" I should hear? Please email me. 
In the meantime, here's a sampling of some of my recent favorites: 
 
"All Over Ohio" by Over the Rhine
I swoon over the sensibilities of Over the Rhine in general, who call an Ohio farm home between their own musical peregrinations,  and whose lyrics bespeak their deep connection to place. They know their land deeply, as well as the creatures who share it. "All Over Ohio," sung in duet, is a long, lovely tour both of place and the birdly need to come and go: 

"And the starlings they were flying
Earlier today
Doing their maneuvers
Clouds of feathers on display
Makes me wanna kneel in prayer but
I’ve forgotten what to say
I’ll just name all the birds in Ohio
...

All I wanna be is a thousand black birds*
Bursting from a tree into the blue
Love – let it be not just a feeling
But the broken beauty
Of what we choose to do"

*Listen to an actual blackbird call HERE.
 

"Birds Fly South" by The Mastersons  
The Mastersons, an Austin-based duo, also evoke bird migration in the title track of their 2012 release, a song about their own need to move, the pull of the heart, the mystery and reasons  of why humans and animals pick up and go when they do. 
Birds fly south, before the cold
all night, I'm going to drive
New York's getting me down
run out of reason to hang around
that's why birds fly south, 
when it all comes down 
All night, I'm going to drive
Will you be, right by my side?


"Scarecrow" by Michael McNevin 
This is one of my all-time favorite songs for a lot of reasons: not only it it a great evocation of the behavior of gulls* (the species of sea bird I've projected upon this song), its a beautiful love song, period. I believe its won some awards, and I've a CD containing the song, but it's hard to find online to easily share.  Fortunately, for these purposes, there's this video (Track McNevin down at one of his shows or hit him up at Muddpuddle Music if you want your own copy.) I heard him sing it the first time I saw him perform and became an insta-fan. 
She's a sea bird I'm a scarecrow
She came to rest upon my elbow
She flys fast I watch the corn grow
Will she come back, well damned if I know
Damned if I know
 ...
She's a sea bird I'm a scarecrow
Will I turn to driftwood in the shallows?
Damned if I know, damned if I know

*Listen to an actual California gull call HERE.

 
(McNevin's also got a song called "Early Bird" worth giving a listen)

Read.Eat.Listen: Water & Weather

Some mornings are worth everything. Such was the case today, when after dropping Kwame at the airport, I stopped for a walk by "the birds" on the way home. That's what we've come to call the Elsie B Roemer Sanctuary on the west side of the east side of the island. The sun wasn't quite up, and everything was blue and pink, the only other folks on the trail were far and few between. The Sanctuary, however, was going off, a riot of Pelicans souring, Canada Geese honking, terns twittering and oyster catchers hueeping past. Alameda is a good place to be if you're not-so-secretly a bird geek.

I make a determination every week or so to get out to "the birds"  daily, but as I don't live in easy walking distance anymore, I often forget. The world is a wonder if you pause a moment to take it in. I'm reminding myself this as much as anyone else, who often forgets that all that I love is close by. Times like this morning are usually when I make the determination anew.

In the wake of the latest spate of climate change news  — thank you Obama for the Clean Power Plan — I've been reading up on sea level rise in California again. Many people have been trying to alert the masses to this eventuality for a few years now, and now word is really out. It's hard to imagine what this will mean for the place I call home. On a flood map, our little patch of island, is still that, an island, but the shore will be much closer. Then it will be easier to get out to "the birds"... if the birds are still having any of it...

Read: "Barbarian Days: A Surfing Life" by William Finnegan. I've only surfed (or tried to) a couple of times— alas, even growing up in Santa Cruz County I never lost my fear of the cold, changeable ocean. That said, I love the ocean, its coast and have always loved surf culture...and I LOVE this book, and have barely been able to put it down this week. I get the feeling Finnegan, a longtime writer for The New Yorker who has had a life-long push-pull affair with surfing, could rewrite a phone book so it was engaging, but this really is a notable memoir. Anyone whose spent time on the California coast or in Hawaii will appreciate the insider's view Finnegan depicts so well, from the people, to the waters to the tortures and rewards of loving something deeply. 

Eat: Japanese Sweet Potato. A humble vegetable that gives. I can and do eat them straight up. This is a recipe that splits the difference: Roasted Japanese Sweet Potatoes

Listen: We saw Ray Wylie Hubbard at The Freight last week, my first time seeing this Texas musician. Been there, seen it all, looked-under-every-rock, not-afraid-to-say-anything gritty goodness.

Read.Eat.Listen: Iterations

I grew up on a wooded hill so I'm always jonesing a little for a nature hike. Getting outside is generally the most reliable head clearer. These days, living in Alameda, the San Francisco Bay is both the backyard and the nature escape. And with no hills to climb, that means heading for either the beach or on the water.  On Friday, we took off for a long-planned overnight sail to Paradise Bay, a lovely anchorage on the east side of Tiburon. We'd sailed there more than a year ago and I had memories of a smooth sail, warm air and gentle anchorage, suitable for a little yoga on the deck and napping in the sun. Anticipating a similarly idyllic two days, I dressed in shorts, brought my iPad writing set-up, and we added the mandolin to the on board instrument inventory. However, though the weather was warm and clear when we set out on Friday, the water soon became choppy and rough. Out came the long pants and foulies.

It should be noted here that while I'm a pretty experienced outdoors person,  I'm really a fair weather sailor. Suddenly, I was feeling nauseous.  Fortunately my captain is more than capable, and ably navigated the rough patch while I worked on steadying myself. 
I was reminded how easily the mind gets attached to an idea of how things should be like they were before. Hah! Paradise, it turns out, like everything, is changeable.  The upside of the strong wind and current was arriving at Paradise Bay in record time, albeit amid high winds, cool air and a half-hidden sun.
Once I got over partially cloudy and cool weather, I embraced our actual circumstance. There's something so soothing about sleeping on water. And waking to coyotes howling through the morning fog and loons paddling on the calm morning water isn't bad either.
Read: The Folded Clock, by Heidi Julavits, is a diary, but it's nonlinear. Comprised of two years of highly literate entries, each started with "Today, I..." Julavits mines insights about her everyday motivations and encounters with bracing candor, about herself, her strength and shortcomings, creating a new order of experience.

Eat: A friend handed me some scissors and directed me into her garden recently to harvest some of the many fava beans she'd grown. I shelled them for salad and for pasta and proceeded to see fava's everywhere, on menus and grocery bins. Fava beans,  are something I would have hated as a kid and now find beautiful. Large and green and kidney shaped, I like them as much for their aesthetic as their flavor. This Fava Bean and Pecorino dish is simple and pretty.
Listen: I've been fortunate to hear a lot of great live music lately a while reviewing shows for No Depression. Someone I'm looking forward to seeing play there next month is Steve Poltz. I'm not sure any video can capture how mind-blowing Poltz is live — he's as much performance artist, comedian,  faith healer and spirit channeler as songwriter/guitarist — but this will have to do until you see him. Poltz tours a lot. (Bay Area heads up: He's in Berkeley in May and in SF in July.) Check him out.

Desert Postcard: Skywatching and songwriting

So yes, there was a lot of sky watching going on last week, and landscape viewing and generally lounging about. But also a lot of writing and  co-writing, the KCDC mash-up managing to complete 8 songs and counting. Time & space add up to somehow accessing the well a little better. It's a good feeling. KCDC has some lives shows coming up Feb. 20 in Alameda & March 8 in Modesto. Perhaps a new tune will get added to the mix!

Whales, warm water & bummer elections

Humpbacks of the deep

“Our kinship with Earth must be maintained; otherwise, we will find ourselves trapped in the center of our own paved-over souls with no way out.”
― Terry Tempest Williams, Finding Beauty in a Broken World

 

Monday, up on Hawk Hill to help with the hawk count, the first animals I saw were in the water rather than the air.  Two whales where meandering in the shipping channel, foraging and spouting air outside of the Golden Gate. It was another beautiful day in the Marin Headlands, and we'd see many birds, but everyone paused a moment to look at the cetaceans in our midst. There may be nothing so wondrous as seeing a whale. All that mass exists out there in the deep, all the time, despite our everyday concerns, and when you catch a glimpse of what the ocean contains, the mystery of all this existence just skyrockets.

The next day, a friend posted an article "Unusual Warm Conditions off California Bringing Odd Species," detailing how the non El-Nino caused warmer ocean temperatures are erasing the usual boundary ranges of pelagic creatures. Range-straying Guadalupe fur seals, sunfish and sea turtles have been showing up in 'normally' too-cold regions around the Farallon and parts of Alaska.
A Humpback near the San Francisco Bay isn't unusual (California's remember Humphrey The Whale who came into the Bay, twice), but the article also mentions that water temperatures may also be affecting the krill on which the whales feed, so they too are dispersing. Likewise, the water temperatures are a result of a lack of the usual winds that cool the water's surface. This was happening in Hawaii when we were there last month, where the water was great for swimming but devastating for the coral... and as a result the whole ecosystem.

These matters trouble me. I wonder what I can do. I speak up when and how I can. I vote and feel like I made a cause for change toward good. And then I read the election results.

 Billions of dollars were spent by green groups hoping to make climate change a front burner election concern and it fell woefully short:
"... as the most expensive midterm election in American history wraps up, it’s clear that environmentalists will fall far short of that goal. A Pew Research Center poll from September found that the environment came in a distant eighth among a list of 11 campaign issues that matter most to voters." — Slate

I've been more aware than ever in recent years that if you lack a connection to nature, it's hard to value it. I was especially fortunate that my formative years were spent surrounded by the natural world and I'm fortunate to be able to find ways to maintain that connection. I know not everyone has access to the sight of a huge otherworldly mammal cavorting in the sea and the appreciation and value such an experience foments. But there are so many blatant examples that climate change isn't 'just' threatening 'other' species. There is no way to ignore that stalling winds, major droughts, and aberrant floods threaten our lives and livelihood as well.

I wonder what it's going to take for folks to wake up? And what do we do now that a majority of our leaders are delusional?

"this vast, gaping polarization of American politics is toxic, especially where it comes to the crucial issue of global warming. Here, a Senate GOP majority can have an extremely destructive effect. It will put a cohort of science-deniers into positions of authority over the very science they want to trample. This is extremely worrisome to me, and it should be to you as well," wrote reporter Phil Plait before the election. 

Now here we are. 

Global Warming Resources from Bill McKibbon 

Island living: In the stream

“When we cast our bread upon the waters, we can presume that someone downstream whose face we will never know will benefit from our action, as we who are downstream from another will profit from that grantor's gift” —Maya Angelou, 1928-2014

When I lived in Santa Cruz while attending UC Santa Cruz, I'd meet a friend at the harbor three mornings a week to row a zipper out into the bay for a good hour. Sitting atop the water in a kayak feels like being a duck or scoter. You're pretty much in the stream with everyone else, short of committing to swimming, eye-level with otters and seals, pelicans and gulls. But while I've enjoyed kayaking on and off in the years since, mostly on vacations to warm lovely places like New Zealand or Hawaii, I hadn't ever thought to get my own. Then I married a man with a decidedly nautical bent—if guitars aren't been played or read about boats are.  Late last year, he read about Oru Kayaks, which makes origami kayaks. Yes, you read that right. Origami. Oru makes kayaks out of single sheets of plastic that fold up into 25-lb boxes you can put in the car, on the boat or carry up a trail.  Their motto is 'from boat to box in 5 minutes' and since two boxed up Orus arrived on our doorstop we've started taking them out around Alameda, which between the bay and the estuary offers a lot of kayaking options.  The kayaks were a little stiff first out of the box —I've needed help getting mine fully assembled so I'm still aways from 5 minutes— but once together are light and watertight, and glide beautifully and silently over the water...like a duck.  

A couple weeks ago, I noticed a new mural while driving over the Park Street bridge. A few days ago I was visiting a friend who lives in Jingletown, the warehouse, live-work space, art and mosaic- (IMA used to be based here) filled neighborhood just over the estuary,  and discovered the mural was right up the street. Painted on the side of the Oakland Museum's White Elephant Sale Warehouse, and within a few wing beats of the Peregrine Falcon-housing Fruitvale Bridge, it depicts several, mostly non-native species: a tropical bird I don't recognize, a chameleon and some elephants as well as the head of a condor.  The mural is bright and compelling as murals can be, but I'm flummoxed by the choice of subject matter (save for the elephants, given the building that serves as its canvas).  How cool would it have been to focus on native species? In any event, it's right by a waterfront park and the UCB boat launch so getting up close makes for a pleasant outing. Bring your binocs and look up for the falcons while you're at it— they're going to fledge soon — as well as the herons and gulls and ducks and other birds that frequent the estuary.

BioBlitz! Golden Gate National Parks, CA Friday-Saturday, March 28-29, 2014

LOTS of great events happening this weekend in the Bay Area. On the natural history and biodiversity front, Golden Gate National Parks is holding BioBlitz Festival, March 28-29, a 24-hour species count of the many inhabitants of GGNP. Birds and snakes and who knows what else (oh my!). 
Check it out at Crissy Field, Hawk Hill, Muir Beach and beyond....
"The three national park units that make up the Golden Gate National Parks encompass more than 80,000 acres and 91 miles of shoreline along the northern California coast. These parks are home to an amazing array of biodiversity, including over half of the bird species of North America and nearly one-third of California’s plant species!

To better understand, appreciate, and protect this natural treasure, the National Park Service, National Geographic, Golden Gate National Parks Conservancy, and Presidio Trust are teaming up to host a 24-hour BioBlitz species count and two-day Biodiversity Festival, Friday-Saturday, March 28-29, 2014.

BioBlitz 2014 will take place in several national parks, including Muir Woods National Monument, Fort Point National Historic Site, and locations in Golden Gate National Recreation Area including the Giacomini wetlands, Muir Beach, the Marin Headlands, Crissy Field, the Presidio, Mori Point, and Rancho Corral de Tierra.

Part scientific endeavor, part festival, and part outdoor classroom, BioBlitz will bring together more than 300 leading scientists and naturalists from around the country, thousands of local community members of all ages, and more than 2,000 students from across the Bay Area."

Hear more about the Blitz, and how scientists are working year-round to catalog and conserve local biodiversity on KQED's Forum, as host Dave Iverson talked with guests John Francis, biologist and vice president of research, conservation and exploration at National Geographic, and Allen Fish, director of the Golden Gate Raptor Observatory for the Golden Gate National Parks Conservancy:

Hawk Hill during fall migration 

Big Sur Postcard

Stars. So many stars. Wood chips and pine needles, a cushion for each step. The ocean, the ocean, the ocean. Whales keeping their secrets. Gulls trolling the shore. Poppies tentatively trying the hillsides. Stars. So many stars. So hard to leave...

Inside one of the yurts of Treebones Resort

Treebones view, stairs & garden

Treebones Resort 'Sounds in the Round' Music Series in Big Sur, March 3, 2014

I love the ocean, I love the coast, and one of the best ever places to experience the Pacific Coast is in Big Sur. So I'm super delighted to be a  part of Treebones Resort Sounds in the Round Monday Music series next week. If you're up for a get-away, I recommend booking a yurt pronto. We play Monday, March 3, 2014 6:30-8:30pm.

Treebones is a premier Glamping resort. Glamping is defined as a luxury form of camping, blending natural experience of outdoor camping with more glamorous amenities. 

 71895 Hwy 1 Big Sur, California 93920 | (877) 424-4787 | treeboneslodge@yahoo.com

Read.Eat.Listen: Retroactive

There's comfort in familiar even if you're reaching for change. I got back from travel in July motivated to finish, curate and compile a lot of my own content: 'downtime' has been filled with finishing mixing, going through a bunch of writing and blog posts and figuring out what's next.
Last weekend, we took some time out to visit a favorite region of the Bay Area and drove up to Pt. Reyes, stopping in Inverness for lunch before hitting the Tomales Point Trail, gazing at the ocean, the bay and catching occasional site of the Tule Elk that live there. It was lovely and scenic and not-so-crowded.
Read: Getting back up to Pt. Reyes jogged my memory banks about The West Marin Review, a lovely art, poetry and literature journal put together by a committed group of West Marin folks along with Pt. Reyes Books. Check out the latest issue's TOC.

Eat: Inverness, a small town along the west shore of Tomales Bay 'only' has a couple restaurants and one cafe but that doesn't mean it's slim pickings. We had a long, lazy lunch at Saltwater Oyster Depot, which yes, has plenty of oysters, but also a nice selections of salads (fish and farro anyone?), sandwiches and pizza —all artfully assembled from locally sources ingredients —as well as wines and beer on tap. We sat in the sun at the communal table and basked a bit before hitting the trail. Post-hike, we stopped in at Blackbird, an art-house cafe next door, for a slice of their daily pie (peach-berry in this case) and made it back to the East Bay to catch two different shows. Yeah!
Listen: I've really noticed how my tastes are so influenced by what music I heard — consciously and unconscious — when I was growing up. My antenna seems especially tuned to beats and melodies ingested at an early age. I hear something from decades back and automatically start boppinging a little, even if I don't really 'like' the song. Back in the 'likable' category: the wonderful songstress Sam Phillips recently released an album inspired by 60s pop music. It's familiar, it's smart and it's new (and she's one of those just-cool sorts).

Check it out:
Sam Phillips "Push Any Button"

Full moon, New tune, Guru Purnima

It's the Full Moon! And another Supermoon at that.

According to the Farmer's Almanac: "July is the month of the Full Buck Moon. Bucks begin to grow new antlers at this time. This full Moon was also known as the Thunder Moon, because thunderstorms are so frequent during this month"

It's also Guru Purnima is an Indian festival dedicated to spiritual and academic teachers. It's a day to give thank to your teachers and mentors. Thank you Pattabhi Jois. Thank you Daisaku Ikeda. Thank you nature.

And why not add, a New tune? I've been playing 'Bittersweet Valentine' at live shows, here's the recording version from the upcoming CD! Enjoy. 

Mountains, craters and gorges

This has been the week of natural, scenic beauty, driving across the southwest, up through Colorado and now in Wyoming. We've slept in the desert, soaked in mineral hot springs, peered down into meteor craters and river gorges, looked up at extinct volcanoes and imposing 14,000' mountains, and played music in backyards, bars, farm-to-table restaurants and ale houses, with time for reconnecting with friends and family along our route. It's been a rich time -- and reminds me again how many great places there are to experience. 

Read.East.Listen: Pasadena Pastimes

I spent a few days in Pasadena last week on the excuse that my husband was on a longish work trip to the city 10 miles north east of downtown Los Angeles. Over the past few years, I've found Pasadena to be a lovely perch for Southern California visits. Provided you don't want to get to the beach, it provides fairly convenient access to much of LA as well as its own cultural highlights (I didn't get to the Norton Simon Museum this trip, but it's definitely on my radar for my next visit). Pasadena also provides a good perch for birds. As I learned observing the local Alameda peregrines, there's a nesting pair of falcons on the AT&T building smack in the middle of Pasadena. On our way home from dinner, we stopped by to watch the birds on the highest reaches of the building setting up to roost for the night.  Pasadena is very close to Angeles National Forest the San Gabriel Mountains so perhaps it shouldn't come as such a surprise to see such wildness amid the urbanity. Either way, I've been finding it immensely pleasing to see these once-endangered species thriving while surrounded by humanity.

Yes, there are peregrine falcons in this photo

Read: I've been studying up on all my raptors in prep to volunteer at the Golden Gate Raptor Observatory this fall. Glenn Stewart's Eye to Eye with Eagles, Hawks and Falcons isn't on the recommended reading list but I'd recommend it to anyone interested in raptor conservation. Likewise, it will be of interest to anyone who had any association with the Santa Cruz Predatory Bird Research Group and its work in the recovery of peregrine (and eagle, and hawk) populations. Stewart, the current director of PBRG, was in on the group's work from the beginning, and offers fascinating accounts of the group's origins, conservation efforts in Idaho, Arizona, California, Alaska and Canada, as well as falconry in general.
Eat: When in Pasadena, it's usually a toss up between Real Food Daily — gourmet vegan with a good wine list to boot — and Green St. Tavern, a cozy restaurant with a menu dictated by the seasons. We were won over by the Green St.'s chef offering of a daily 'pie inspiration' on the dessert menu. Who wouldn't be? (The apple pie was a winner.)
Listen: Most of the music happening on this trip was either rehearsal related (Kwame and I are polishing up some of the tunes we wrote for the most recent RPM Challenge) or on the car stereo (a lot of classic rock and top-40 pop happening on LA radios). Nonetheless, somewhere along the routes of the past few weeks, I've been turned onto Escondido, an Americana band out of Nashville. Check 'em out. 

On The Water

Somewhere west of The Farallon Islands

Despite living near large bodies of water for most of my life, I don't know I've spent as much time on it as I have during the past few years. Growing up in Santa Cruz, my parents were landlubbers. After several slightly harrowing attempts, I stayed away from surfboards. And save for a semester in college, when a friend and I rowed a zipper out of the Santa Cruz Harbor three days a week, and a couple of serene kayak trips on Hawaiian vacations, for most of my adult life, I've been content on the water's edge. That's changed a bit lately. Having married a sailor, and now living on an island (albeit a little one) with an active sailing community, time spent on boats has become, perhaps inevitably, a regular event. For the past few weeks, when I haven't been doing a show, I've been heading out on the water.
As with most activities, I'm not so concerned with gear (in this case, boat types) or adrenaline (speed, competition, frequency), but I greatly enjoy the chance to experience another side of nature: how the wind shows its change on the surface of the bay before you feel it, the way seals bob in calm repose when the wind and current are low, diving Least and Caspian terns, low-soaring pelicans, the occasional flash of a sea porpoise. Plus there's something just downright soothing about rocking on water for hours at a time. It provides a reset button I've come to appreciate all the more.
Saturday, we went out on the Bay on a friend's boat for an afternoon of sailing. On Memorial Day, we boarded a whale-watching boat run by San Francisco Whale Tours in a bid to see some of the gray, blue and humpback whales that forage in the deep Pacific.  I've seen hundreds of migrating whales from shore when living on the California coast, gone whale-watching in New Zealand and deep-sea fishing off of Monterey, but I'd yet to whale-watch out of San Francisco.
Memorial Day was threatening rain. A low fog hung over the water, inhibiting visibility out of the Golden Gate and to the Farallon Islands. Nonetheless, I was as excited to see what I could see of the Farallones, even if the jagged rock outcroppings 30 miles out of the gate were slightly obscured.
We could smell the birds who roost there before we reached a safe viewing distance, where could make out thousands upon thousands of nesting Murres, a bird not unlike a penguin. Our on-board naturalist told us how in the early days of San Francisco, locals came out to the islands to forage the Murre eggs (one egg equaled a decent sized omelet) and fur seals. When the effects of all that pillaging became evident, President Roosevelt created the Farallon Reservation to protect the islands and its wildlife. In 1969, it was expanded to become a National Wildlife Refuge. Now the Farallon Islands are an integral part of the Gulf of the Farallones National Wildlife Refuge, the birds and seals have recovered and access is limited. There weren't any other boats at the islands when we pulled up a few hundred yards from its craggy shore. A few seals swam out to check out our boat and a tufted puffin flew overhead as gulls, guillemots and murres wheeled overhead and swam in the inky sea. It was slightly spooky...and magical. I felt we'd gone very far away.
After idling a bit to scan sky and sea, we motored on West, in search of yet deeper waters and the thus far elusive whales....
Entering this part of the Pacific felt like driving across a (cold) desert: there's so much out there, but you have to really look and be in it to get just how much. A vast expanse of water and foggy horizon greeted us. The fog lifted a bit, the water was calm: our captain reported these were optimal conditions for whale viewing. We huddled in our storm coats and chewed on ginger gum, looking at the horizon for signs of spouting. We saw an albatross and another puffin, porpoises and auklets, more murres, seagulls floating on large seaweed 'rafts'...but  the whales, seen only a day previous according to our guides, where foraging elsewhere. Evidently, a small percentage of whale-watching trips turn out this way (SF Whale-Watching graciously offers the next trip on them if you don't see whales). Eventually we headed back across the water, toward the Golden Gate and shallower waters. Though whale-less,  I felt energized rather than disappointed...and happy I have a make-up trip ahead of me.

Scrub Jays on Mother's Day

My mom passed away eight years ago, so on Mother's Day, I send salutations to moms I know, rather than my own. But it's not that I forget her: as time passes, I only miss my mom more. This past Sunday, I had an afternoon radio spot scheduled for KKUP 91.5, chatting with DJ (and tireless supporter of independent musicians) Don Campau. Given the day, I was making sure to include a song, that's part tribute to both my mother and my grandmother ("Grandma Mission Blues" below) in the set list.
My morning's preparation, however, was interrupted by the sound of squawking outside the living room window. Peering into our side yard, I saw not a bird but a very interested cat— my neighbor's generally docile feline — crouching near the gardening table, twitching its tail. After running outside and yelling at the cat, I saw a frightened, just-fledged scrub jay hopping under the table. Of course, it was just as scared of the large humans trying to help it get away as it was of the cat. But, whether due to cat-inflicted injury (it had a little blood on the side of it's mouth) or lack of skill, it couldn't fly up and out of the yard.  I picked it up and it struggled out of my hands to perch on my finger and I attempted to get it in a tree but no-go. Meanwhile, the cat came around the side of the porch, waiting to take over. After a bit more kerfuffle, we got the bird into a well-ventilated crate and set to finding the nearest Wildlife Rescue Hospital, which turned out to be 20 miles away in Walnut Creek, adjacent to the Lindsay Wildlife Museum.
Scrub Jays — as are most corvids — are among the smartest animals on the planet,  possessing accurate memory and an ability to plan ahead for the future (!). As a kid, I used to feed the jays the 'crusts' of my Wonder Bread peanut butter sandwiches (not recommended) and they quickly learned to wait in the oak trees near a bird feeder each day at lunchtime.
After about 10 minutes in the car, I noticed our rescued jay looking more alert and peering out of the crate and around the car. A good sign. Hopefully, it recovers well and will remember as much how to stay clear of cats as the relative comfort of the interiors of VWs.
The staff at Lindsay Wildlife Hospital promptly whisked the jay through a door from which came the sounds of lots of other birds. As they took down our information and assigned our delivery a number (we can check on its status in a few days) a few other folks came in with shoeboxes and jars containing rescued creatures. The wildlife hospital  is set up to take in animals 7 days a week, starting at 9am, and they're keeping busy: during the first week of May, they took in nearly 250 critters.  Turns out Lindsay's facility is one of the oldest and largest wildlife rehabilitation centers in the country, and largely dependent on volunteers and donations. Hopefully, I won't have to take any more animals there this year, but I'm definitely happy to give them some support. Find out more at http://wildlife-museum.org/hospital.

More Medicine From The Out-of-Doors: The Point Reyes Birding Festival

Those who really know me, know I'm somewhat of a bird geek. I grew up in the country, our TV got 2 1/2 channels, and our phone service was so geared to rural living that we shared a 'party line.' So the out-of-doors was where it was at. And boy was it! Birds were radical, I soon found, and became fairly adept at identifying hawks and doves, towhees and waxwings, at a young age.  My dad gave me binoculars before I was five years old and I think my first book was The Sunset Magazine-issue 'Introduction to Western Birds.' Owls, eagles and egrets—I found all of them wondrous and inspiring. When college got confusing, I switched my major so I could work summers for the Predatory Bird Research Group, dabbling in what it meant to be a field biologist. And I thought that's what I'd do after college, applying for a coveted internship at The Point Reyes Bird Observatory, getting accepted only after my life choices found me pointing my compass toward writing, and Colorado, and a lot of other places on the map since then. Nonetheless, once a bird lover, always a bird lover: It's no accident I got married at a local bird sanctuary last year.

So I was both pleased and sorry — I'll be traveling elsewhere this weekend so will miss it—  to hear that The Point Reyes Birding Festival is starting this Friday, April 26 and running through the weekend. The festival features birding trips, informative talks and a wine and dessert reception to compare notes with your fellow birders. Even if your interest in birds is cursory, you really should go if you're in the area. Point Reyes is truly one of the most beautiful and diverse places in the world. And what better way is there to learn about the avian world than from the host of master birds and ornithologists who will be on hand?
Point Reyes Birding & Nature Festival April 26-28
Environmental Action Committee of West Marin
P.O. Box 609
Point Reyes Station, CA 94956
Email: prbnfestival [at] gmail.com

Turkey medicine

Many years ago, when I was living for a time on a multi acre ranch on the coast, I reported my daily wildlife sightings to a friend who, in turn, divined their meaning for me. "Frog" or "Rat," or "Whale medicine," she'd murmur, when I told her about the amphibian who'd hopped across the floor, the rodent gnawing on the walls, or the cetaceans I'd see off the coast. Then she would leaf through her animal totem book or medicine cards, and tell me what it all meant.
The exercise was fun, and definitely helped me renegotiate my relationship with some of my less welcome sightings, but not something I've kept up.
Sunday was another lovely spring day in the East Bay, and has been the call of the last few weeks, we headed for the hills to go hiking for part of the day. On the way to Wildcat Canyon/Tilden Park, driving through a stretch of the Berkeley hills we happened upon a ...what is that...a Turkey? Not sure where this guy came from, but he evidently was feeling the season, mistaking (or hoping) each car that passed was his long awaited mate. We literally had to back up and go around the amorous fellow who made a display of his long lovely feathers as we attempted to get around him.
Turns out the wild turkeys of Berkeley aren't new (see "Wild Turkeys of Berkeley Out and About Again,")

But what else might seeing this turkey mean?
 Evidently Turkey Medicine is about 'giving away' in a good way:
"Let go and give away the past. Share your gifts with generosity. Feel the freedom gained."
Sounds like a good direction to me.

Read.Eat.Listen: Believer

For the first time in many years, I did not go to Austin for SXSW, the annual conference/mass party/whose who of music of the moment (or retro moments).  A part of me must of thought I was going, as the weekend was pretty open, which turned into a good opportunity to explore some new-to-me hiking areas, see Oz (so-so IMHO), and hear some local music. Nature stole the show, however: Springtime is busting out all over, as you can see from these photos of Coyote Hills Regional Park which straddles a ridge opening up on views of the Bay, Coyote Hills Slough as well as East Alameda Contra Cost Counties.

Meanwhile...Reading.Eating.Listening has occured:

Read: I got a lot of mileage out of Sharon Salzberg's 2003 release "Faith: Trusting Your Own Experience" last week. Detailing her early journey to India in the 1970s to study Buddhism as well as her life teaching mindfulness and lovingkindness practices — she cofounded the Insight Meditation Society and is a contemporary of Ram Dass —I took a lot of heart from her journey from ordinary broken to risk-taking seeker, dedicated practitioner and leading teacher: "In order to deepen our faith, we have to be able to try things out, to wonder, to doubt. In fact, faith is strengthened by doubt when doubt is a sincere, critical questioning combined with deep trust in our own right and ability to discern the truth."

Eat: I have a bit of an obsession with cardamom going. I've been putting the aromatic spice  in smoothies, and in...waffles. Breakfast in bed, baby! Buy the the green pods, grind them fresh when you want to add them to something, in this case gluten free waffle mix. I also used orange juice as a liquid and threw in chia seeds for good measure (and fiber). Yum.
Listen: If I had been in Austin this weekend, I would have gone down to the Continental Club or otherwise sought out the True Believers, who had reunited for the event: