A Meandering Path: A Blog of Life, Love, Retirement, and Photography: A Great Day

You never know what you might find when you leave your own back yard. Yesterday, it was – well, read on, and you will see.

It was warm here yesterday, too warm for mid-December. I know that my friends living in the cold, snowy, icy regions will disagree, and rightly so, but eighty, in December, in North America? That kind of weather does not do much to instill a Christmas holiday spirit.

The promise of high temperature also made it difficult to know what to wear on my hike. I was meeting my nature photographer friend, Barbara, at my favorite site to talk about cameras and life, and to shoot some pictures, of course. Since temperatures were still chilly in the morning shade, I opted for a lightweight, long-sleeved shirt, threw my camera bag in the car, and set out.

A friendly group of birders was in the parking lot when I arrived. They were staring up into the eucalyptus trees with binoculars, sometimes pointing and saying, “There – was that it?” One of the women greeted me as I walked up.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m guessing there’s something more than the Yellow-rumped Warblers up there?”

“We’re not sure,” she said, “but we’ve been seeing a flash of orange. It might be a tanager, or maybe an oriole, but we haven’t had a good look yet.”

(This morning’s SB County Birding newsletter listed it as a Bullock’s Oriole, confirmed by another birder who I saw there later when I was leaving.)

Yellow-rumped Warbler

We chatted for another minute, and then I left them to their search. I had promised Barbara that I would meet her at the opposite entrance at 10:00, and I only had twenty minutes to get there. Besides, I’ve driven myself crazy before by trying to photograph the warblers that they were now watching. Those fast, flitty little birds seem to delight in showing themselves just long enough for you to finally lock focus on them, only to dart away and hide behind a cluster of leaves just as you press the shutter.

A hundred yards further on, I was at the start of the trail. Ahead of me, a man in a blue shirt took a few hesitant steps, then turned and walked toward me. He was in his mid-60s, very fit looking, and wore a huge grin despite seeming a little bewildered. He looked at me, glanced at my camera, and said, “I’m guessing maybe you know this place?”

“I do,” I said. “Do you need some help?”

“This is my first time here,” he said in a slight Southern drawl. “I’m not sure where to go. This is fantastic, though! I had no idea that a place like this existed here.”

“It’s definitely a hidden gem,” I agreed. “Look, I’m meeting a friend on the other side of the park. If you don’t mind some company, I’ll be glad to walk that far with you and show you around a little. I’ll take you around the back way, get you on the other end of the main trail, and then it’ll be an easy walk back to your car from there.”

“That sounds great,” he said. “Thank you!”

“My pleasure. I love this place. It’s fun to show it off.”

His name was Charlie. Originally from Georgia, he had just retired to this area after a life-long career as a loading technician for cargo planes in the Air Force. His job was to make sure that the weight and balance distributions were correct, and that everything was secured for flight – an important, sometimes under-valued job that took him all over the world. Charlie loved nature and walking. His goal was to find as many places here as possible in which to enjoy both.

Nutmeg Mannikin (female or juvenile)

I liked him immediately. I was grateful, too, when he waited patiently while I paused to shoot photos of Nutmeg Mannikins in the reeds, and other birds we passed along the way.

Charlie was fascinated with the myriad side trails crisscrossing the landscape. “Where does that one lead?” he would ask. “How about this one? It looks like it loops around and re-connects with the one we’re on, is that right?” “Who would have imagined that all of this was back here? Wow!” His enthusiasm was contagious, and it reminded me of my own early fascinations with this place.

Walking up a wide path on the other side of a footbridge, I saw a familiar face approaching. The man smiled when he saw me, too.

“Art,” I said. “I’ve been wondering when I’d run into you again! How have you been?”

“Good,” he said. “And you?”

“Great! Art, this is Charlie. He’s new to the area. This is his first time here. So, what’s happening?”

“Well, the White Pelican is still hanging around and, you’re gonna love this – the cat is back!”

“The cat? The bobcat??”

“Yes!”

“Oh, man! That’s fantastic! Where??”

Art described the site to me, and it happened to be close to where I was to meet Barbara. My heart bounced. A bobcat! After a two-year dry spell, would my luck finally change?

As we talked, two other groups of people walked by. All of them knew Art and greeted him as they passed.

“I’d love to stay and talk, Art, but I’m supposed to meet Barbara over at the other entrance in just a few minutes. I hope I’ll see you again soon.”

“I’ll be around,” he grinned.

Pale Robin

“This sure is a friendly place,” Charlie observed as we walked away.

“That’s part of the fun of it,” I said. “It’s kind of magical, in a way. You’ll meet regulars here, and families, and newcomers, and most of them are just as enchanted by it as you are.”

I took him around the eucalyptus grove, pointing out other trails and connections as we went. Art’s comment had distracted me, though. “Bobcat,” I kept thinking. “Bobcat!”

When we finally reconnected with the main path, I said, “Well, I guess this is where I say good-bye. Just follow this wide path to the right, and it will curve around and eventually take you right back to the parking lot.”

“Thank you,” Charlie said. “This is fantastic! Say, what about that trail there?”

“That one goes back along the outer edge of the property and sort of parallels the main one.”

“That looks like a good one to me. I think I’ll take it.” We shook hands, and with eager steps Charlie disappeared behind a low rise on that little dirt trail.

I, meanwhile, was on the verge of running late for my meeting with Barbara. I turned left and hurried toward the east entrance.

My watch said 9:58. I was 50 yards from our meeting point, and I thought I saw Barbara disappear behind a tree, headed back toward her car. I hoped she hadn’t given up already. I….

What was that?

In the open field to my right, a distant brown lump looked somehow out of place. I raised my camera for a closer look. Through the 420mm lens, I could see a shape – a feline shape, with white spots on the backs of its ears. It couldn’t be…! But it was. Yes!

I fired off a few shots, reluctantly lowered my camera, pulled out my cell phone, and dialed.

“Barbara,” I said. “I’m here, and I’m looking at something that you need to see.”

“Where are you?”

“No more than 200 feet from you, right up the main path. There's a bobcat!”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I’ll be right there!”

We watched and photographed while the cat slowly stalked something in the tall grass. It crept, paused, pounced, and came up with empty paws. Then it turned, walked a short distance, and sat in the grass, quietly watching for another opportunity for lunch. Most of the time, it was facing away from us.

“That’s how it always seems to be with bobcats,” Barbara said. “You get great views of their back-ends.”

“Too true.”

The cat ignored our presence, but it was also pretty far away. I was shooting hand-held and at the edge of my lens’s capability. I didn’t know if any of the images would turn out. The thrill of watching the bobcat outweighed those worries, though. I would come back, with a tripod, and eventually I might get better shots. Just seeing the cat and knowing it was there was enough.

Half an hour earlier, I had known nothing about the bobcat’s presence. If I had not bumped into Art and been forewarned, I might have walked right past that field and not noticed that brownish feline lump in the grass. If I hadn’t met Charlie and paused to point out a few sights along the way, I might have arrived too early and missed the cat. It felt as though the entire day had conspired to put me there, at the right place, at the right time, to see that cat.

Some other cool sightings from the day:

A swan eyes the American White Pelican as he swims past. "What kind of a bird are you? You're white like me, but what a huge bill you have!"

A Belted Kingfisher. Another shot that was a huge stretch of my shaky hands and limited telephoto lens. I would never have even seen this bird if we hadn't met up with that group of birders again and had one of them point it out. "See that little white spot in the tree over there? That's him."