Originally posted November 25, 2006. Updated July 24, 2010.

Nature isn't necessarily nice. Behavior and interactions among animals are often violent. So it is with mountain lions. But the mountain lions of the Santa Monica Mountains also have to cope with the additional problems of living on an island of lion habitat in the middle of an ocean of urban sprawl.

The mountain lion tracks above were photographed on a run at Sage Ranch Park in late January 2000 . They might have been made by a young male mountain lion designated P3, whose territory encompassed this area. There is also a possibility there were from an older female lion, P4 that frequented the Rocky Peak area. Unfortunately both these animals were killed in late 2004 by eating prey (coyote) that had eaten rodents that had consumed anticoagulant based poisons. These poisons are used by parks, schools, golf courses and housing developments for rodent control.

The P3 and P4 pumas were tracked as part of a ongoing study started by the National Park Service in 2002 to learn more about mountain lions in the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area. As of June 2010, nineteen mountain lions, P1 to P19, have been studied, and their history has been quite a saga.

The patriarch of the lions in the study is P1. He was the first lion captured and collared in 2002, and at that time was estimated to be 5-6 years old. In his prime, P1 was a large, 140+ lb. male whose territory was essentially all of the Santa Monica Mountains. In August of 2004, P1 and P2 - the only female lion known to be in P1's range - produced a litter of four cubs -- two males (P5 and P8) and two females (P6 and P7).

Despite high hopes for the lions and their new litter, things turned ugly in August of 2005, when P1 killed his mate P2. A few months later, in June of 2006, P1 also killed one of the 22 month-old females from the litter, P7. According to biologists these were not the actions of a lion run amuck, but were most likely related to conflicts over kills, or in the case of P2, a mother protecting her offspring.

As might be expected, the young males from the litter, P5 and P8, headed for opposite ends of P1's territory. However, urbanization and limited linkages essentially prevented their escape to other wildland areas.

Early this September 2006 P5 was likely killed by P1, and in a development that surprised researchers, P8 appeared to have been killed by an unknown lion, probably male, inside of P1's territory. The "unknown lion" was the male P9, who was killed by a vehicle on Las Virgenes road in July 2007.

P6, a female, is the the only surviving lion from P1 and P2's 2004 litter. One other female lion, P13, has been collared. DNA testing suggests that P13 is a daughter of P6.

It is not known if P1 is still alive. P1 appears to have been injured in a battle for dominance in March 2009. A bloody radio collar and tufts of hair were found in a tree in Hidden Valley, near Thousand Oaks. P1's opponent was suspected to be P12, a lion collared in December 2008, and the first lion to be tracked crossing (under) the 101 Freeway. Scat found three weeks after the fight was genotyped, and found to be P1's. At least four male lions - P10, P12, P14 and P15 - now inhabit P1's original territory.

In May 2010 P13 had a litter of three kittens -- P17 (female), P18 (male), and P19 (female). The father is suspected to be P12. Since P12 likely originated from an area other than the Santa Monica Mountains, this would increase the genetic diversity of the mountain lion population in the study. CougarMagic.com has some fascinating wildlife camera footage of P12 and an uncollared female lion.

In addition to the new kittens, a male lion living in the Santa Susana Mountains west of I-5 was collared and given the designation P16. This is the first lion to be followed in the Santa Susana Mountains since P3 and P4 died in 2004, after eating contaminated prey.

The map above shows the home ranges of the mountain lions P10, P12, P13, P14 and P15 in the Santa Monica Mountains, and some monitored locations of P16 in the Santa Susana Mountains. Here is another map that shows the home ranges of the mountain lions P1 to P12 in the Santa Monica Mountains, Simi Hills and Santa Susana Mountains. It was adapted for the web from this NPS map (PDF), produced in 2009. According to Lauren Newman, Policy and External Affairs Manager, Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area, the following lions have (at one time) been collared, and are presumed to be alive:

P6 - female, alive, no active collar
P10 - male, alive, collar
P12 - male, alive, collar
P13 - female, alive, collar
P14 - male, alive, collar (collared in August, 2009)
P15 - male, alive, collar (collared in November, 2009)
P16 - male, alive, collar (collared in May, 2010)

The mountain lion saga continues...

Following are some previous updates to this post, with links to additonal articles and information.

Update August 7, 2009. According to Where the Mountain Lions Live in the Santa Monica Mountains in laist.com, P1 may have survived the fight with another mountain lion back in March. DNA from scat collected about two weeks after the fight matched P1!

Update March 28, 2009. There was sad news earlier this month. According to an article in the Daily News, mountain lion P1, the long standing patriarch of the Santa Monica Mountains, appears to have lost a battle for dominance with another mountain lion. A bloody radio collar and tufts of hair were found in a tree in Hidden Valley, near Thousand Oaks. P1's opponent is suspected to have been P12, a lion collared in December, and the first lion to be tracked crossing the 101 Freeway.

Update October 6, 2008. The Ventura County Star reported that a young male lion was found dead October 2 on the 118 freeway, just west of Rocky Peak Road. A wildlife passageway crosses under the freeway nearby and has been used by at least one other lion. On July 18 a mountain lion was reported in the area of the Chumash Trail.

Update May 1, 2008. NPS wildlife biologists are currently aware of 4 lions in the Santa Monica Mountains -- 2 recently radio-collared young males designated P10 and P11, and P1 and P6. There is probably at least one more female, the mother of P10 and P11. A remote camera picture has also been taken of a lion in the Simi Hills.

Update January 25, 2008. An article in the Simi Valley Acorn reports that on January 13, 2008, a mountain lion was discovered in an abandoned building near Chatsworth Reservoir. Two days later there was another mountain lion sighting in the nearby Simi Hills by employees at the Santa Susana Field Laboratory.

Update August 7, 2007. According to an article in the Malibu Times, on July 31 a five or six year old mountain lion, was hit by a car near the tunnel on Malibu Canyon Road and died shortly thereafter. The mountain lion, designated P9, was recently collared, and along with P1 and P6 was one of three mountain lions being tracked by the NPS. There is speculation that P9 may have been the unknown lion that killed P8.

Technorati Tags: mountain lion, Santa Monica Mountains, animal tracks

One of the largest Southern Pacific Rattlesnakes I've seen at Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve -- formerly Ahmanson Ranch. This one was on the East Las Virgenes Canyon Trail (aka Main Drag).

I counted 12 rattle segments, and as this HD video snapshot shows, the snake was nearly as long as the dirt road was wide.

From a run on Wednesday from the Victory trailhead to Las Virgenes Creek.

Even though it was Summer, it was cold. Except for the clinking of our climbing gear, it was still and quiet at 13,000 ft. The sun had not yet risen, and I was perched on an icy step just below the bergschrund of Palisade Glacier. Tom had just crossed the large crevasse, and the brightly colored red rope ran through my hands as he worked up the ice of U-Notch couloir.

After a few moments the rope stopped. My view of Tom on the steep ice slope above was obscured by the lip of the bergschrund, but from the clanking of the ice screws it sounded like Tom had paused to put in some pro. It was early in the climb, and while keeping tabs on what was happening above, I surveyed the glacier below.

Even if the glacier was minuscule by Pacific Northwest standards, it was the largest in the Sierra Nevada, and my first "real" glacier. Most of the snow on its surface had melted, exposing the gray glacier ice. Also uncovered were parallel crevasses where the ice had flexed over a buried ridge or projection, and cracked. We had bivied on the glacier just for the experience, peering into turquoise blue crevasses, and listening to its creaks and groans.

Now in the brightening light, my gaze followed the ice sculpted canyons down into the Owens Valley and then across to the Inyo Mountains, along whose crest the sun would soon emerge.

What the -- suddenly there was a loud buzzing at my ear, and in the second it took to identify the sound, a hummingbird landed on the climbing rope, just a few inches from my gloved hand. I stayed as still as I could, and hoped Tom would not move. Curious eye met curious eye and we just pondered each other, asking in so many words, "What are you doing here?"

On another Sierra climbing excursion, Phil and I were hiking from the South Fork Kings, over the Monarch Divide, to the turrets in the Gorge of Despair. On a late summer morning, in a high, gilia covered meadow, we paused to take some photos of wildflowers. There was much buzzing about the meadow, and several hummingbirds.

Watching the activity, we stood in awe as a pair of hummingbirds flew at ground level from opposite ends of the meadow. Just feet above the wildflowers, they flew directly at each other, meeting in the middle of the meadow and them zooming upward together in a frenzy of flight. The pair then circled back and repeated the maneuver.

My most recent hummingbird encounter was Saturday at Stoney Point. I had done my usual circuit through the array of massive sandstone rocks, stopping at various boulders to do particular rock climbing moves. Earlier, I had watched some rabbits "playing chase" with a ground squirrel. I say "playing" because that's what it looked like. Neither animal appeared particularly concerned, and the squirrel would weave and wind, running first from one rabbit and then another.

I had worked around to the back of Stoney Point and had just passed Maggie's corridor when I heard buzzing and the familiar "tsk-tsk" of an upset hummingbird, followed by the equally familiar warning whistle of a ground squirrel. Hummingbirds are territorial, and I just assumed that I had stumbled onto some kind of weird territorial dispute. I looked for the hummingbird and for a moment did not see it. The squirrel whistled again, this time very near. This was odd. A squirrel will usually dive for cover when a threat is close.

Then I saw the hummingbird. It was about three feet way, back lit by the sun, and perched in the bare branches at the top of a sumac bush. As I watched, it continued to "tsk-tsk" its concerns. Then, in an explosive intake and expulsion of air that very briefly swelled its body, it expelled the loud warning note that I had mistaken to be the warning whistle of a squirrel!

The title photo is of a male Anna's hummingbird on showy penstemon, near Eagle Rock in the Santa Monica Mountains.

Even if the calendar is a little slow, Spring is here. The oaks are leafing out, goldfields blooming, chorus frogs singing, and I just had my first rattlesnake encounter of the year.

The single track trail paralleled the dirt road in upper Las Virgenes Canyon. I weaved and wound my way through the grassland and oaks, eventually returning to the road near the connector to Cheeseboro Canyon.

Usually, the sound of my footfalls would be enough to abruptly silence the sing-song of the frogs at the creek crossing. As I approached the creek, the calls slowed but did not stop. I paused at a small pool and stood quietly.

Over a period of seconds, the chorus of the frogs grew to a surprising intensity, interleaving and reverberating in such a way as to envelop me in sound. In the small pond at my feet, I could not see the frogs, but I could see the waves and ripples of their calls on the water's surface. Immersed in sound, I stood still for a few moments, and then crossed the creek, and continued down the canyon.

I'd been thinking about it earlier in the run. Highs had been in the 80's since Monday. Was three days enough to get the rattlesnakes out and about?

I reacted to the rattle before I heard it, leaping away from the sound. The snake was in the grass at the margin of the trail, about halfway up "the Beast," west of Lasky Mesa. It was nearly invisible in the tall grass, and only an inch or two off the overgrown path. Fortunately, it's reaction had been similar to mine, a defensive recoil, rather than a strike.

The adrenalin of the encounter quickened my pace up the hill. At the top of a hill, a falcon flew from a sentinel oak. I followed its flight until it disappeared in the glare of the setting sun, and sighed...

A California mountain kingsnake on the South Fork Trail, in the San Gabriel Mountains, near Los Angeles.

From our trail run on Sunday.

Did an enjoyable run at Sage Ranch today that started and ended in showers, but also included a few moments of subdued sun.

The shrub with the yellow-orange leaves is rain soaked poison oak. As I took the photo, a California towhee landed in its limbs, probably a little concerned about the unexpected house guest. From a towhee point of view, a thick chaparral shrub is a homey place with all of the creature comforts.

In chaparral areas towhees are common, and I frequently see them on my runs. Over years of running I've learned some of their habits.

Many times when I encounter a towhee on the trail, it will flutter and scurry along the ground just ahead of me, and then dart into a bush. Although not as dramatic as the broken wing act of a killdeer, this "catch me if you can" behavior is probably intended to draw a potential predator away from the bird's nesting and living area.

Very different animals will often cooperate to benefit each other. In the case of a towhee, one of its best buds is apparently the cottontail rabbit. On occasion I will see the bird and rabbit foraging together on a trail. When trying to keep a wary eye out for potential predators, four eyes are much better than two.

Where there is one towhee, there will often be another nearby -- presumably its mate. At Sage Ranch, I've repeatedly encountered a pair of towhees near a particular shrub over a period of several years.

Part of the appeal of trail running is that even on a short weekday run, close to home, on a familiar trail, stuff happens.

The plan for today's trail run was a simple one -- run up and down the Chumash Trail in Rocky Peak Park. By the time we were done, a 5 mile run would morph into a loop of nearly 10 miles. We would encounter a rattlesnake and a longhorn bull, and we would run short on water. But we would also have a great run!

I've run in the Rocky Peak area for decades, and from time to time have encountered cattle near the end of Rocky Peak road. In recent years, the herd has been hanging out in the oil field and oaks between Las Llajas Canyon (near Poe Ranch) and a small mesa east of Rocky Peak road.

Seems to me most of the stock used to be Brahman, but these days there are many longhorns in the mix and according to an expert, these could be Longhorn, Corriente, or a Longhorn/Corriente cross.

When they heard us coming down the road most of the cattle just moved to another area -- except for the big guy in the title photo. He made it very clear that no one should be messing with his heifers. He was a little agitated. While he didn't charge us, it seemed possible he might. Avoiding any appearance of confrontation, we kept moving, and after a few moments were well away from the herd.

Here's a Google Earth browser view of a GPS trace of the Chumash - Las Llajas loop.

Some related posts: Chumash - Las Llajas Loop, Las Llajas Hill 2484, Exploring Las Llajas

Deer seem to be plentiful in the Trippet Ranch area, and are frequently seen at this pond near the parking lot, or grazing among the oaks.

Running the Trippet Ranch Loop in Topanga State Park was a pleasant way to unwind after doing the Mt. Disappointment 50K last weekend. This 12.5 mile trail run from the End of Reseda is on a mix of fire roads and single track trail in chaparral and live oak woodland. I like to do the fire roads out to Trippet Ranch, and single track Musch and Garapito trails back. The elevation gain/loss on the loop is about 1800'.

Running up the hill to the Hub on the way out to Trippet Ranch we noticed some barefoot prints mixed in with the mountain bike and running shoe tracks. Based on the gait, the tracks were from a runner -- and from the speed they worked up the hill, the runner was feeling pretty good.

At the Hub the bare feet continued on our route, down Eagle Springs fire road, and about 10 minutes later they ended -- at a smiling runner wearing Vibram Five Fingers. Returning to running after a year and a half hiatus to start a family, Chris had recently read Christopher McDougall's Born to Run, and been inspired to try barefoot running.

Here's a Google Earth browser view of a GPS trace of the Trippet Ranch loop from Marvin Braude Mulholland Gateway Park at the southern end of Reseda Blvd., in the San Fernando Valley.

Some related posts: Ferns Along the Garapito Trail, Musch Trail Mule Deer, Garapito Trail Green

The thing about a dangerous situation is that you almost never see it coming. In an instant a pleasant adventure can turn really serious. We were in the San Gabriel Mountains about 2 miles down the little used South Fork Trail, and 20 minutes from Islip Saddle, when my running partner shouted, "Do you see that!"

From the tone of her voice I knew it was something serious. My first thought was a mountain lion, but then I saw it -- a bear cub clinging to a tree on the trail ahead. Sh*&! How many times had I told friends that I didn't worry too much about black bears, "unless, of course, it's a mother with her cubs."

Where was Mom? She had heard us coming down the trail, but apparently only had enough time to send her cub up the tree, and take cover. Not good, and potentially very dangerous. We couldn't see Mom, we couldn't hear Mom, but knew she was nearby. Most likely she was in the thick brush on the steep slope below the trail.

Suddenly, the cub scurried higher in the tree, its long claws digging noisily into the bark of the tree. That's when we saw that there were two cubs! The noise startled me, and I wondered if Mom -- wherever she was -- would react.

After a quick assessment, we walked quietly by the tree, and in a second or two started to jog. In a matter of seconds we were out of danger. It was fortunate that there were two of us and we were relatively noisy. A solo runner would have almost certainly surprised the mother with her cubs.

After a time the adrenalin subsided, and the rest of the run went very well. Temps were not quite as hot as expected on the low part of the course, and were pleasantly cool on Mt. Baden-Powell. Both the South Fork Trail and Manzanita Trail had been recently maintained. Some slides and washouts remain, but these are an integral part of the adventure and character of this trail run.

Update October 8, 2009. Here's a video of the cubs and Mom taken a couple of months after our encounter. The cubs have grown! It's from Cougarmagic.com, a video blog with fascinating footage of mountain lions, bears, deer, bobcats, foxes and other animals found in the mountains near Los Angeles.

More info about the approximately 23.5 mile course can be found in the post Islip Saddle - Mt. Baden-Powell South Fork Loop.

Related post: Wally Waldron Lodgepole Pine

Click image above to start slide show.

Update May 30, 2009. In a Draconian measure that could close over 200 of California's State Parks, Gov. Schwarzenegger has proposed cutting the State Parks core funding in half begining July 1, and then would eliminate ALL core funding in a year. Here is a list of the California State Parks at risk (PDF). Click here to take action and send a letter to your legislators and Governor Schwarzenegger! For more information see the California State Parks Foundation web site.

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.

Following is the original post from February 2, 2008:

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

Observant, clever, mischievous and adaptable, the coyote often plays the role of Trickster in American Indian mythology.

This short Chumash story is from the course notes of an Introduction to Classical Mythology class at the University of Texas:

"Coyote begs to accompany the Sun one day, promising to behave himself. Coyote persuades Sun to let him carry the torch, and Sun warns him not to let it get too close to Earth. Coyote (of course) forgets, drops the torch, and almost burns up the world before Sun rescues it. Thereafter he stays meekly behind Sun."

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

Related link: Native American Trickster Tales

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.

For a compilation of some of the best birding blogs, and more stories about birds, see the 100th edition of the blog carnival "I and the Bird."

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.

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').

The weather forecast looked good. There was a chance of some gusty southwest winds in the afternoon, but temps were warm and there was virtually no chance of T-storms. With a record low Southern Sierra snowpack, there was almost no chance that an ice axe would be required on Army Pass. I was familiar with the route on Langley and down from New Army Pass, and expected to be back to the car well before sunset. But, just in case, the moon was about half full.

In fact, there had been very little snow on Army Pass, or anywhere else. We reached the pass relatively quickly, and decided to continue to Langley. Now, after another hour of hiking, we were above a prominent rock band that extends across Langley's south face, and making good progress.

I've been convinced for some time that pursed-lip breathing helps me at higher altitudes, particularly when I'm not well acclimated. There's a skill to it. There seems to me an optimum blend of heart rate, respiratory rate, and the amount of resistance created on exhalation. When all these factors are in balance, the breathing technique is almost automatic and effortless, and it really does seem to help. It certainly seemed to be helping me now.

I topped out a few hundred yards west of the summit, and ambled over to the high point of the peak. On a scale of 1 to 10, I felt pretty good -- maybe a 7. Making an effort to stay hydrated, consume plenty of calories, and not push the pace too hard seemed to have worked -- at least this time.

The view along the crest to Mt. Whitney and the peaks of the Kings-Kern Divide was telling. It was remarkable just how little snow there was at the highest elevations of the Sierra. A week before I had been paddling the Kern River. Now I could see why the flow on the upper Kern was dropping so fast.

This wide-angle photograph of Mt. Whitney and the Sierra crest from the summit of Mt. Langley is from a high resolution composite of 8 individual images. It was created using the improved photo-merge tools in Photoshop CS3.

Miklos and Krisztina joined me on the summit, and after taking a few summit photos, we headed down. Screeing down the slopes below the rock band, we were startled when a herd of perhaps 20 big horn sheep rumbled across the slopes below us. They flowed across the rough landscape like quicksilver. Graceful and robust, they moved effortlessly between the rocks and up a small slope. In the moments it took me to react, grab my camera, and turn it on, all but two large rams trailing the group, had disappeared.

Energized by the sight of these fleet-footed animals, we continued down to the saddle at Army Pass, and then up and over New Army Pass. Before sunset we would be back to the car, and before dark, eating dinner at Lone Pine. Before midnight we would be back in L.A. Here's a Google Earth image and Google Earth KMZ file of a GPS trace of our route.

Note: Going to higher altitudes without properly acclimating can result in very serious, life-threatening illnesses. There is much information available on the Internet regarding altitude sickness and acclimatization. As a starting point see International Society for Mountain Medicine: An Altitude Tutorial and Wikipedia: Altitude sickness.

Related post: Cottonwood - New Army Pass Loop

Technorati Tags: Mt. Langley, mountain sheep, Mt. Whitney

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.

I like to do the loop starting at the Las Llajas Canyon trailhead on Evening Sky Dr. A short jog to the east end of Evening Sky Dr., and across a field, and you're on your way up the Chumash Trail. Here's a Google earth image and Google Earth KMZ file of a GPS trace of my usual route, and another view of part of the route from near the high point on Rocky Peak Rd. (It is also possible to start the loop at the Chumash Trail trailhead at the end of Flanagan Dr.)

At Rocky Peak Road's high point is an outcrop of fossil shells. According to the Dibblee geology map of the area, these may have been deposited in shallow marine lagoons a couple million years ago. There is a year around creek in Las Llajas Canyon, and the complex oil field geology is very different from the sandstones along the Chumash Trail and Rocky Peak Rd.

The last time I did this loop, I had run just turned off Rocky Peak Rd. and was working up toward a hilltop to an old oil field service road, when I heard the unmistakable rat-a-tat-tat of a dirt bike. Bike #1 popped over the crest of the hill, and as we passed I asked with a hand signal if there was a second bike. There was. We avoided each other and I continued over the hill and down the road.

A couple hundred yards down the road from the crest of the hill, I found this kangaroo rat. It could not have been dead for long. It was larger than I expected, and had remarkable coloration.

The photographs of the out service tanks and the kangaroo rat are from a run on November 11, 2006.

Related posts: Chumash Trail Snow, Chumash Rock, Chumash View, Oat Mountain Snow, San Fernando Valley from Rocky Peak.

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.

Lingering in my mind was Jessica Deline's recent encounter with a mountain lion while running at Whiting Ranch in Orange County. The last place I had seen mountain lion tracks was on a muddy nature trail, not far from where I was now. That was more than a year ago. It had rained overnight, but so far I had only seen tracks of coyote, dogs and deer.

Today, I was on the Musch Trail, doing one of my favorite cool weather runs -- an approximately 12.2 mile, fire roads out, trails back course from the end of Reseda Blvd. to Trippet Ranch, in Topanga State Park.

As time warped back to normal, I saw the animal wasn't a bob cat or mountain lion, it was a mule deer. A doe had stopped just a few feet from the trail. That was unusual. Also, it was strange that her full attention wasn't on me. Instead, she seemed concerned about something behind her, uphill from the trail. I stood quietly and watched.

She appeared to be evaluating the situation, and after about 15 seconds seemed to calm. Still alert, another 15 seconds passed, and following some unseen cue, a six or seven month old fawn was suddenly at her side.

Now her big ears, and more of her attention, were focused on me. With the fawn at her side, she obviously didn't like being out in the open. She scented the ground, checked her fawn, and then looked back up the hill. I couldn't see any more deer from my position, but they could easily be hidden in the surrounding cover. Almost a minute and a half after the encounter began, the doe and fawn moved into the brush.

Slowly moving a few feet along the trail, I glanced up the hill and discovered two more members of the group, waiting for me to pass. I continued walking down the trail, and after few yards, picked up the pace, and resumed my run.

Here's a Google Earth image and Google Earth KMZ file of a GPS trace of the route.

Related posts: Christmas Berry, Mountain Lion Saga, Ferns Along the Garapito Trail.

Snapshot of deer at Malibu Creek State Park. This group was in about the same location on consecutive weekends. Malibu Creek State Park is about 30 minutes from downtown Los Angeles.