The afternoon was hot, and the hill was not easy. I plodded up the rutted dirt road, watching my footfalls, and glancing upward from time to time. It was one of those days when hills grow long and steep, and sweat stings your eyes.

Part way up the grade, I caught a glimpse of two deer crossing the road. I didn't get a good look, but thought it might be another buck and doe, like the pair I recently encountered in Topanga State Park. I stopped running, pulled out my camera, and walked slowly up to the point where a game trail left the road.

I was expecting the pair to have dissolved into the brush, but apparently they had not seen me. They were about halfway up a rounded hill, backlit by the sun, and partially hidden by dried grasses and mustard stalks. The buck's head was down, and the doe's ears fluttered nervously to and fro.

Suddenly the buck's head shot up. As I watched, the animal's silhouette grew impossibly tall. His thick neck extended from heavily muscled shoulders, projecting an iconic image of dominance that was amplified by his formidable, multi-tined antlers.

Awestruck, I snapped what photos I could, and then turned and began to slowly jog up the road. Periodically I would stop and turn, and see if the deer were still in sight.  As I crested the climb, I could just make out the pair on the top of the now distant knoll.

When running in the Trippet Ranch area of Topanga State Park, more often than not, I see mule deer browsing among the oaks along Eagle Springs Fire Road, or along the Musch Meadow Trail.

On Sunday's Trippet Ranch loop, these deer were near the Musch Meadow Trail. The young buck appeared to be taking more than a passing interest in the doe. The breeding season for mule deer varies widely, and begins as early as mid-September in some locations.

Here is a zoomed view of the doe and buck.

Related post: Musch Trail Mule Deer

Ka-ree... Ka-ree... Ka-ree...

I heard the angry cries at least a quarter-mile away. The screams were incessant. Running along the dirt road, I emerged from a grove of oaks and turned west -- running down a short hill and then up another. Cresting the rise, I paused to search the parched terrain.

The Winter rain season had been the driest on record, and Summer heat was now oppressive, abusing the animals and desiccating the chaparral. A few clouds cluttered the sky, but they would bring no rain. The cries continued.

Ka-ree... Ka-ree... Ka-ree...

The screams seemed to be coming from a group of rocks and oak trees near the campground. I left the road and slowly walked through the brush in the direction of the shrill shrieks. As I approached, the intensity and urgency of the screams increased. Intimidated, I stopped.

KA-REE... KA-REE... KA-REE...

There was not only fury in those cries, but a warning.

To my left, something stirred. Slowly I turned and looked down. For a moment I just stared. Rabbit lay face-down against a rock, twitching. Up in the oak tree, Hawk continued his irate cries.

KA-REE... KA-REE... KA-REE...

Suddenly, there was motion to my right, and Bobcat bolted from the brush. Hawk swooped in pursuit. His broad tail flared and wings twisted one direction and then another, as he followed the abrupt zigs and zags of Bobcat through the rocks, up the hill, and out of view.

KA-REE... KA-REE... Ka-ree... ka-ree...

Afterward: This encounter occurred during a run at Sage Ranch Park in July of 2002. I continued my run, and when I returned about 30-40 minutes later, the rabbit was gone. The photographs were taken during the encounter.

Encountered this red coachwhip/racer (Masticophis flagellum piceus) as I was running down the Chumash Trail today. It was a long snake -- at least 5'.

In June 2005, I found a California striped racer (Masticophis lateralis lateralis) on the Chumash Trail that appeared to have suffered some sort of fatal trauma. It was a much smaller snake than the red racer.

Note: There was a handwritten notice posted at the Chumash trailhead warning of a mountain lion sighting on July 18, 2008. I haven't been able to obtain any additional details.

Was that a snake on the trail ahead?

It was a snake -- a pretty big one -- stretched across two-thirds of the road.

I slow, stop running, and then walk carefully toward it. The snake is dead still. A confounding series of thoughts follow in quick succession.

Looks like it's probably a gopher snake... Glance at the tail -- no rattles. Check the head -- where's the head? Check the tail again -- definitely no rattles. It is a gopher snake. Look for the head again -- did the snake get run over, or decapitated?

At least 30 seconds have passed and the snake has not moved -- not a millimeter. Very weird. Is it dead? It doesn't look dead. There's no blood.

Realization dawns as I comprehend the snake may be caught in the entrance to a small burrow.

Com'on, stuck? If so, it's in a bad place. Pick your peril: Upper Las Virgenes Canyon is hiked, biked, ridden on horseback, roamed by coyotes, and hunted by hawks.

Now it's been a couple of minutes, and the snake still has not moved. I'm beginning to think maybe it is dead. So I touch it.

Panic! The snake writhes, contorts and convulses in an attempt to free itself. No go -- it continues to convulse, and then suddenly, and impossibly, slithers down the hole.

What? My guess is that the snake had found a lizard, mouse, or other prey in the hole, started to swallow it, and with its body engorged, became trapped by its meal. Or maybe it just got stuck!

A red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) shows his bright red shoulder epaulets in a territorial display called the song-spread.

From an afternoon run at Ahmanson Ranch -- now Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve.

Update May 18, 2008. Gov. Schwarzenegger's revised state budget, released May 14, rescinded the funding cuts that would have resulted in the closing of 48 California state parks. For now it appears these state parks will remain open. For more information see the Save Our State Parks and Campaign To Save Topanga State Park web sites.

What a fantastic morning! Taking advantage of a break in a series of Southern California rain storms, I was running on Fire Road #30 near the entrance of Topanga State Park. The sun had found its way through a broken layer of clouds, and bright patches of sunlight highlighted the rugged terrain. Down in a steep canyon on my left, wisps of steam wafted from the chaparral.

Following an  "On your left!" a group of mountain bikers swept past. Working up the hill toward the Hub, good morning's were exchanged with other runners, hikers and cyclists.

Many of us live and work in California because of its diverse open spaces, parks and wilderness areas. Incredibly, this popular urban park, along with Will Rogers State Historic Park, Santa Susana SHP, Los Encinos SHP, Mt. San Jacinto SP, and forty-four other California State Parks have been slated for closure in the fiscal year 2008-09 California state budget.

According to an article in the Los Angeles Times, the selection was made according to the dour formula of those parks "that had the fewest visitors, produced the least revenue and would be the easiest to close off to visitors."

This formula necessarily targets less developed parks, such as Topanga State Park, ignoring those intrinsic values that make a park a park. The formula targets walk-in parks, and the hikers, cyclists, riders, and runners that simply enjoy the outdoor experience. The formula targets day use parks in urban areas that don't need campgrounds or additional services. And, the formula targets those with less to spend on recreation.

So is this how we are to appraise the value of our public lands? Closing our state parks would be astonishingly short-sighted. Their varied trails, terrain, and habitats are accessible to millions, providing a therapeutic escape from the rigors of city life, and experiences and insights that can only be gained from the out of doors.

Today I was doing one of my favorite runs in Topanga State Park. It links several trails and visits several popular destinations in the park -- the Hub, Parker Mesa Overlook, Trippet Ranch, Eagle Rock, and the Musch, Garapito and Bent Arrow Trails.

This two minute slide show is a compilation from a few such runs. It is a small selection of photographs from one set of trails, in just one state park.

For more information regarding Topanga State Park, see the Campaign To Save Topanga State Park, Topanga Canyon Docents and California State Parks web sites.

Technorati Tags: slide show, California state budget, California State Parks, Topanga State Park

With little new growth this Spring and Summer, coyote paths at Ahmanson Ranch have become so well worn that several have recently been posted with "Restoration Area - Please Keep Out" signs. Whether the canny coyotes will choose to cooperate remains to be seen.

Note: Ahmanson Ranch was acquired as open space in part to protect several sensitive species and their habitats. Some (human) use trails have evolved and "Restoration Area - Please Keep Out" signs are a reminder that the area is a preserve.

From a recent run at Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve (formerly Ahmanson Ranch).

Related post: Trickster

 
Cirque Peak from Cottonwood Lakes Basin

The sky was brightening in the east, and sunrise was approaching when I met Miklos and Krisztina at the Denny's in Sylmar. We were already wasting light. The plan was to drive from near sea level up to Horseshoe Meadows, at about 10,000' on the Sierra east side. The hike/run we had in mind was a keyhole loop from the Cottonwood Lakes Trailhead up (old) Army Pass and then down New Army Pass. If we felt OK at the top of Army Pass, we would also do Mt. Langley (14,026').

From a run at Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve (formerly Ahmanson Ranch) on May 15, 2007.

In addition to the Chumash-Hummingbird loop, another good trail run in the Rocky Peak Park area is the Chumash-Las Llajas loop. Both loops are about 9.2 miles long, have a mix of dirt road and technical single-track trail, and include some strenuous climbs. The Chumash-Las Llajas loop has less elevation gain/loss, and if you run the loop counter-clockwise, the downhill in Las Llajas Canyon makes for a fast-paced 4 mile descent.

About ten feet in front of me, there was a flash of brown as a large animal leaped across the trail. In the balloon of time that accompanies a surge of adrenalin, I thought of the possibilities. The last time an animal startled me, I was running on a dirt road through ten foot tall chaparral in the Simi Hills. In that case a large bob cat had bolted from the brush.