Pipevine Swallowtails In Redding

The Eastern black Swallowtail raised by Lin Batkins

    Saturday night we dined sumptuously on home made lasagna and Sunday morning we headed north out of Oakland bound for PDX.  The day before, down by the Alameda salt marsh, we had seen the Anise Swallowtail.  This was September 11th, a day significant for something bigger than butterfly observation.  But that sighting cased me to pause and reflect.  If butterflies were still flying in Oakland, why should they not still be flying in Redding, which you will recall is the stake out for the Pipevine Swallowtail.

    If butterflies are flying, this absolutely means that they are mating and laying eggs on a host plant.  Many host plants no longer have succulent leaves by mid-September, but obviously some do.  When I reviewed my correspondence with Dan Greany of the Wintu Audubon Society of Redding, he had advised that the Pipevine Swallowtail would be flying into the early autumn.  With temperatures hovering around 100 degrees, Redding was certainly not in late autumn, so it certainly seemed like a chance worth taking.

   While we are interested in any new butterfly, the PVS  hit a new category for us.  We had yet to see a predominantly black swallowtail butterfly.  If we lived east of the Rockies, that would almost certainly not be the case.  For example, the Anise Swallowtail, which we had seen the day before is considered by entomologists to be the west coast counterpart of the Eastern Black Swallowtail, which is black, beautiful and not particularly rare. Just last year, our friend Lin Batkins found a caterpillar of this species eating her dill in New Hampshire and raised it through the chrysalis to the adult you see above.  It is a charming story, but.the point here is that there are several species of black butterflies in the east and they are fairly common. Thee are only a couple here in the west and we had yet to see one.

A female CPVS.  Note the broken wing and the falling leaves.

   And so there we were, motoring across the delta of the Sacramento River and heading for Redding.  

   We arrived in Redding around 11:30.  Although it had been quite smoky here just five days before, the air was pretty clear, the sky was blue and it was only 88 degrees. It had been 108 as we motored south; that alone might have been reason enough to forego butterfly watching. 

   Finding the Sundial Bridge, with an assist from Google navigation, was a snap.  It was only five minutes from the freeway, parking was plentiful and there were nice people to point us on our way to the bridge.  

 

 

Sundial Bridge. The author and the gnommen.

    The bridge itself is somewhat of a marvel. a cantilever bridge, it has no footings in the Sacramento River, hence it does not disturb spawning salmon.  (Isn't it amazing that salmon traverse the bay and swim all this way up the river, almost 200 miles.?)  The Sacramento supplies water to, and suffers run off from, one of the prime bread baskets in our country.  The deck of the bridge is aquamarine glass which, when illuminated at night, produces a blue glow.  The soaring gnommen at the north end serves the dual purpose of supporting the cantilever and serving as one of the world's largest functional sundials, hence the name.

    We crossed the bridge and dutifully turned west on the macadam pathway.  Immediately we saw a few black butterflies fluttering in the ornamental trees planted along the path. This species of butterfly is nothing if not fluttery, constantly on the move.  We walked another 100 feet and down the slope by the river we saw many butterflies, a couple dozen at least.  Most of these were at least fifty feet away but occasionally one would flutter up too the pathway circle near us and fly off.  We stayed for about twenty minutes and in that time only two landed near enough for still butterfly photography.

A male Pipevine Swallowtail also with a broken wing.

  

Before leaving the butterflies fluttering around the Sacramento River, it's worth considering a few things.  First, especially in September. their reason on earth is to breed and produce eggs, which become caterpillars. I say especially. for it is very likely that the chrysalis these caterpillars form will be the one to over winter.  A new generation of swallowtails will emerge next spring, the progeny of these very butterflies.  

A pipevine pair flirting beneath the oaks

    As you must know by now, the California Pipevine Swallowtail, Battus philenor hirsuta, is absolutely linked to the California Dutchman's Pipe, Aristolochia californica, sometimes known simply as California pipevine.  Adult females, using their antennae, which are very sensitive chemo receptors, can identify this plant even in the fall.  At this late date the plant is no longer bearing the flowers that look like a Meerschaum pipe, the sort smoked, presumably, by Peter Stuyvesant as he traded a pocket full of beads for Upper Manhattan.  Dutch colonial history aside, the leaves of these plants produce a toxic chemical, aristolochic acid, which renders the voracious catrepillars unpalaltable to predators.  As in the case of Monarchs and milkweed, this poison passes through the pupa stage and resides as well in the adult butterflies.  Butterflyologists suggest that the orange spots on the wings of the CPVS warn birds away.  This sort of trans species communication,  aposematism, keeps the butterflies from being eaten and the birds form getting sick.

   As you can see, the two butterflies who landed near us for picture taking were a little scruffy...they both had broken wings.  But we did get some pictures and we had a great time hanging with the pipevine swallowtails.  

Sandra is standing in the shadow of 12:10

    Don't forget, before butterflies a bird watcher fluttered inside this chest.  Here in the branches of the oak tree that shaded our path, Sandra and I were treated to the chippings of a family of Plain Titmouse.  This chickadee-like bird is one of three species that occur in North America.  A nice little  bird to add to this summer's list.

    On our way out of the park, we admired the sundial.  The park architects placed a curved piece of marble about 30 yards from the gnommen and on a clear day, of which Redding has many, you can look at the shadow and tell the time.  As you see, Sandra is standing in a shadow that corresponds to 12:10 and it is time to hop back in the car and head north, with a life butterfly in the bag.

 jeff

Fall Migration in Oakland Part Two.

    Saturday morning we returned to the scene of the crime.  This time we had two accomplices, three if you counted Cooper.  It was a bright blue morning on the Oakland bayshore, with the City rising out of the fog a few miles across the water.  Birding had been so spectacular the previous morning that our hosts, Andrew and Shawn were eager to take a gander at this profusion of sandpipers and their ilk.  Cooper, who is an 11 year old poodle maltese mix, was delighted to be included in the expedition.  

Shawn, Andrew, Yours Truly and Cooper.

   Unlike Friday morning, parking was unavailable right across the street from the Elsie Roemer Wildlife Sanctuary and we parked about a quarter mile down the road.  The walk back up the beach gave us a look at what would have happened had not enlightened minds stepped in to protect this patch of marshland.  Less environmentally conscious folk had turned the north part of the Alameda Island shoreline into a sandy beach, replete with sun worshipers,, bathers and kite fliers.  

    As we approached the spot where a fence separated the sandy beach from the preserved marsh, I spotted two dozen chunky black birds on an exposed gravel bar.  When we got a bit closer, I was able to confirm that this was a large group of Black Oystercatchers.  On the Oregon coast these birds occur singly or in pairs.  Up in Puget Sound, though, we have seen similar congregations of these amusing birds with their comical red bills.  It was a pleasure to add them to the Alameda list.  

Royal Terns.  NB the white foreheads.

    When we got down to the small pier there were not as many birds on the mudflat as had been the case the day before. We showed our hosts a half dozen species and admired the plaques that continued to serve as our field guide.  Cooper took the opportunity to stretch out and rest after his long walk. 

   After a few minutes we left the small pier and headed south.  Before we left the pavement, Andrew was asking what the group of birds were on a muddy bar at the water's edge, perhaps 50 yards away.  A quick look revealed that it was a squadron of terns.  These birds were a little smaller than the single Caspian Tern we had seen the day before and, with a modicum of effort on my part, I was able to impress my associates with the white forehead in front of the sweeping black crest.  I guessed these were Royal terns.  And I was right. I am including a picture borrowed from the web in which the photographer cleverly finds four Royal Terns in plumage varying from summer breeding to winter; the latter bears the most white on his pate.  The twenty or so birds we saw had distinct white foreheads similar to the bird second from the top.

Roger Tory Peterson , the Dean of American Birdwatching

   It wasn't until we made it all the way home to Vancouver that I was able to check them out in an actual bound field guide,  reviewing the terns in the traditional manner. The book we keep on our coffee table is a hard bound copy of Roger Tory Peterson's Field Guide to Western Birds, 1969.  As I prepared to write this blog I discovered that RTP has been in watching birds with Saint Peter low these last 25 years.  May the Dear Good Lord bless him and keep him.  With his landmark field guides he may have done more for American bird watching and,in the process, habitat preservation than anyone else of his generation.  And please note that he called himself a birdwatcher, not a birder.  

  Anyway, Roger Peterson tells us that San Fransisco Bay is the northern boundary of Royal Tern habitat, so this was a pretty good spot.

   After identifying the terns, we headed south onto the sandy trail.  As we stepped onto the sand I encountered an elderly birdwatcher replete with floppy hat, a fly fishing vest and a spotting scope balanced upon his left shoulder.  I asked if he had seen anything good and he inadvertently revealed that, despite his magnificent outfit, he wasn't much of a birdwatcher.  Many are called but few are chosen. Mathew 22:14.  

    Don't get me wrong.  If I am able to dotter out onto the flats in ten years and admire a few birds I will be more than pleased.  So God bless him , as well.

The Redoubtable SKG joins our hosts on the bay front.

     No worries.  Despite the lack of any hot tips we proceeded to spot many of the birds we had seen the day before, including several excellent looks at the long billed curlew.  A couple times we found a LBC near enough to a Whimbrel that we could clearly demonstrate the difference in bill length.  I think Shawn and Andrew were impressed, but they are both exceedingly polite, so it was tough to tell.  Additionally, we found a bevy willets with their bold black and white wing pattern and a few greater yellowlegs.  All in all, counting terns, pelicans, cormorants and gulls, we saw 22 species out on the mud flats.  This without a scope or a field guide. 

    Shawn and Andrew took off to find the house of one of his teaching colleagues, who has a home facing the bay front.  Alameda is adjacent to downtown Oakland so prices here,even for waterfront property are lower than you might expect.  Or so we are told.

     We caught up with Shawn, Andrew and Cooper and then the five of us headed back up the sandy path.  Suddenly a large butterfly flew over.  And then another floated into the area and landed in a stand of wild fennel that I had admired the day before.  the fennel grows as far north as Anacortes where it thrives on the edge of a beach only two blocks away from our favorite thrift store.  Because Anacortes is much further north, it is not clear if anise Swallowtails make it to that shoreline, despite the presence of this darn near nominative host plant.  How pleased was I to see the Anise Swallowtail in the fennel herein Oakland!

Anise Swallowtail San Francisco Bay

     The Anise Swallowtail flopped around in one clump of fennel, holding sufficiently still that we could see his distinctive black scapular cell on the dorsal forewing.  He then flew ten feet to another clump and paused in resting position.  I had a five to ten second look at his ventral wings and Boy Howdy were they good lookin'.  He had a line of blue dots going all the way from fore to aft.  I'm including somebody elses's picture of an anise swallowtail.which was taken on San Francisco Bay.  I leave it up to you to turn that blue gray line on the forewing into a series of blue dots.

 

    We wandered up the beach back towards Shore Front boulevard.  along the way we stopped to watch avocets marching through the shallows while simultaneously swishing their curved beaks back and forth.  By the time we made it to the small wooden pier, the tide had come in and there were many birds closer to shore.  This included a group of five Long Billed Curlews only ten yards away, four of them with their saber-like bills at the ready.  Even my ancient Lumix could not fail with subjects like these.  I hope you enjoy the picture.  

jeff

Long-billed Curlews on San Francisco Bay!  What's not to love?

 

 

Fall Migration Shorebirding in Oakland

    This week we find ourselves staying with our nephew and his husband in the highlands of Oakland, California.  Naturally, they both work, so Sandra and I needed to find something to occupy a day in early September.  Luckily, I remembered that this was the time when fall shorebird migration occurs.  Not only that, but San Francisco Bay, in the past, had been well known as a very good spot for shore birding.

     But how would the birding be in 2021 in Oakland?  Well, in this day and age we naturally turn to our digital devices and Mr. Google suggested the Elsie B Roemer Bird Sanctuary in Alameda (a community on the bay front of Oakland) which, as it turns out,  is just a twenty minute drive from Andrew's home in Montclair.  

   So with Ms. Google as our navigator, we  headed down to the bay. We were prepared for few quick thrusts on a series of freeways, but those arteries were clogged and she directed us down a series of city streets,  As we descended, things got a bit older and shabbier.  When we passed under the  I-880 and made the turn south towards the bridge that would lead us into Alameda, (which is an island). We passed half a mile of shanties built under the freeway.  In Portland the homeless live mostly in tents, which lack a sense of permanence.  This village under the 880 is made of wooden pallets and nylon tarps and does not appear temporary in the least.  It reminded me of shanty towns outside places like Mazatlan and Buenos Aires that a few decades ago we had the luxury of deploring.  Not so any more.

A bevy of plovers, one still showing his summer black belly.

    Finally in Alameda we were directed to the waterfront, where a turn onto Shoreline Drive rewarded us with a long boulevard facing the water, and in a short half block, the Elsie Roemer Bird Sanctuary.  I don't know what I expected, at the minimum a gate, and a parking lot.  Here we utilized ample street parking, walked across the thoroughfare and took advantage of a short, nicely maintained pier that extended just fifty feet over the salt marsh.   In addition to a short chain link fence, this was the Roemer Sanctuary.

    Up to this point I was relying on my ancient memories as to just when fall migration takes place and the quality of birding on the flats of the bay.  As we strode to the railing on this short pier, we found ourselves in bird watching heaven.  No more questions...this was fall migration in full swing.  Although it was halfway between low and high tide, there were lots of shorebirds.  Big ones, little ones, some with short beaks and, Hold the presses! Is that a long billed curlew?  Before we could enjoy the many pelicans that were sailing nearby, I had spotted a bird that I have seen only a couple times before, decades in the past.

Marbled Godwits Kibitzing on the Alameda Shore

     The long billed curlew has a bill significantly longer than his body.  Here we found many whimbrels, similar birds who sport long decurved bills. They are found occasionally on the sandy beaches of Oregon. The only time I have seen the long billed curlew was on its upland breeding grounds, in a field of grass in eastern Washington.  These birds had descended from their summer home on the prairie to the coast.  Some will winter as far north as San Francisco, but many will head south to Mexico and beyond. In this instance it was really useful to have the whimbrels there for comparison. 

     As we scanned the birds feeding near the pier, I spotted a small plover, buffy above and white below that was feeding just above the wet marsh.  I watched him for a while before deciding that this was a snowy plover. the snowy plover was never common; even in the 70s one didn't see them very often and I have only seen a few, none in a long time.  It is not uncommon when one goes to the beach to see signs directing you away from grassy dunes where these birds breed, but it actually seeing one of these rare birds is another matter.  

A Trio of Avocets Prancing Through the Shallows

    We had headed south to Oakland Dowitchers hanging out in with our binoculars, but without a field guide to the birds.  As we looked around the pier, that in essence constitutes the refuge, we found three placards, miraculously unblemished by grafitti, that served as a pretty good guide to the birds we were seeing.  Here we found both whimbrels and long billed curlew, but plovers were under represented.  Neither the semipalmated plover or the killdeer, both common birds, or the snowy plover, were pictured.  Later work on the internet confirmed this sighting.

    After a bit we noticed that about fifty yards south, where the road curves away from the beach, a trail leads along the marshy shoreline.  We walked south and down the trail.  Here, pathways lead a little further out into the marsh and we were in this way able to get closer to the birds, who seemed oblivious to this respectful approach.  There were huge congregations of larger plovers, both golden and black bellied, and lots of long billed dowitchers.  

God Bequeathing  the Avocet and her Bill.

   As we looked further down the beach, I spied some long legged white shorebirds that in a trice I identified as avocets.  I've seen a few more avocets than long billed curlews, but none in a very long time.  They breed in upland marshes and, at the end of the summer, migrate south and to the coast.  Here we found large number of these elegant birds.  

    In addition tho her distinctive plumage, the avocet has been blessed with a recurved bill, a bit unusual (though hardly unique) in the world of shore birds.  In his ongoing effort to fill every niche, the Dear Good Lord bequeathed upon the avocet a most curious manner in which to procure her daily bread.  Knee deep in the rich, marshy broth, she bends forward and briskly whisks that recurved bill back and forth just under the surface, capturing a beak full of toothsome organisms.  Yum. To our delight, Sandra and I both had a chance to witness this singular feeding behavior.

    On our way back up the beach we ran across several lovely flowers associated with a spreading succulent on the edge of the marsh.  We have found that this is ice plant, invasive and unwanted, but bearerof loveley blossoms..  After enjoying the ice plant we watched a group of avocets prance together through the shallows and we got one more excellent look at a long billed curlew showing off his magnificent proboscis.  It was a great day on the Alameda shore.

The invasive ice plant raises her happy blossoms to greet fall migration.

jeff