This southern Pacific rattlesnake was on the Burkhart Trail below Buckhorn at about 6200' in the San Gabriel Mountains. We encountered the snake last Saturday while doing a loop from Three Points around Mt. Waterman. It's the second rattlesnake I've seen while doing this loop. The other encounter was on the Three Points - Mt. Waterman trail in a grassy area on the south side of Mt. Waterman at about 7000'.

The highest elevation I recall seeing a southern Pacific rattlesnake was at about 7200', near the summit of Suicide Rock, in the San Jacinto Mountains near Idyllwild. In Rattlesnakes: Their Habits, Life Histories, and Influence on Mankind, Volume 1 (Klauber, University of California Press, 1972) there are accounts of northern Pacific rattlesnake encounters at 11,000' in the Sierra Nevada, and southern Pacific rattle encounters at 10,000' and above in the Big Bear area and near the summit of San Jacinto Peak (10,843').

My most unusual rattlesnake encounter to date was while kayaking the Forks of the Kern in the southern Sierra Nevada. I had just done the entrance move on the rapid Big Bean and had stopped in a small eddy on the left side of the river, just above the most difficult part of the rapid. My kayak was facing up river and was nearly against the bank. I was looking back over my left shoulder, mesmerized by the power of the water pouring over the big drop. Preparing to do the move, I was totally focused on the river, when suddenly -- above the roar of the rapid -- there was the startling buzz of a rattlesnake at my right ear. I turned to see a rattlesnake on the bank at shoulder level. Fortunately the snake just rattled and did not strike. Double-adrenalized, I peeled out from the eddy and paddled over the drop.

For a brief description and a photo of each of the six species of rattlesnake that occur in Southern California see Rattlesnakes of Southern California (Loma Linda University Medical Center). I also found much interesting information about rattlesnakes on the web page of Loma Linda University Professor William Hayes.

Trailrunners spend a lot of time outdoors, and as the hours add up so do the chances of wildlife encounters. Encounters can be as common as Nuttall's woodpeckers chatting it up in a oak tree, or as rare as a mountain lion bounding across a road.

The diversity of wildlife in the areas in which I run is remarkable. The wildlife section of Photography on the Run includes posts about encounters and interactions with tarantulas and other spiders, bees & wasps, butterflies, birds, various snakes, lizards, frogs, rabbits, squirrels, coyotes, deer, bighorn sheep, hawks, falcons, owls, bobcats, bears, and mountain lions.

I've found many animals are surprisingly tolerant of a jogging runner. What I will call innate curiosity sometimes seems to offset primal fear. However, it is a delicate balance with a hair trigger.

Earlier this week I did an out and back run at Sage Ranch. A couple of miles into the run I ran up a short hill and then around a huge sandstone boulder. About 10 feet away, perched on the edge of a picnic table was a Cooper's Hawk. And it didn't fly.

I could barely breathe. The bird was stunning. Its sleek dimensions and long, barred tail suggested elegance, speed and agility. I slowly turned away and with agonizing deliberateness, removed my camera from the waist pack. As I turned back to the bird, camera in hand, it flew away.

Birds are among the toughest of creatures for me to approach and photograph. Especially with a 90 mm lens. Most are very wary and will react to motion in their direction.

Over time you learn the habits and behaviors of the wildlife you see. There is a fence line along the dirt road on the east side of Lasky Mesa that is a favorite of flycatchers. I've seen two types of flycatchers at Ahmanson Ranch, the Say's Phoebe and the Western Kingbird. As the name suggests, flycatchers hunt insects from fence posts and other perches.

Both species react to a runner in peculiar way. The game goes like this. From some yards away I'll see a flycatcher perched atop a fence post. The bird will wait until I am about 20 yards away -- not quite close enough to get the shot I want -- then fly four or five fence posts down the line and wait for me to try again. This behavior sometimes continues for a quarter-mile or more and several times has repeated until the end of the fence line.

Why? Maybe people and animals tend to stir up insects and the birds are being opportunistic.

The kingbirds in the title photo were momentarily distracted when one chased the other from the top of the post. The chasee has its crown feathers flared and wings held in a posturing display.

This rain season has been another dry one in Southern California with many areas recording about one-third to one-half of the normal amount of rainfall.

I have not seen upper Las Virgenes Creek actually flowing any time this rain season. All the creek crossings in Upper Las Virgenes Canyon north of the Cheeseboro connector have been dry to damp all Winter.

Water is pooled in places along the creek, and one of the larger pools is at the creek crossing south of the Cheeseboro connector. I had to laugh when I ran down the hill and saw this pair of Mallards enjoying the pool.

My rambling New Year's run at Malibu Creek State Park had begun on the Cistern Trail. I thought I might run to the base of the Bulldog climb and then back on Crags Road to the main parking area. From there maybe I'd do the Phantom Trail loop or run over to Tapia Park and then back to the Lookout Trail.

The route really didn't matter. It was a classic Southern California Winter afternoon -- cool, but not cold, with a mix of clouds and sun. Grasslands were green with December's rain, and the low sun cast a golden hue over the rocks, oaks and chaparral.

I was running west on the Yearling Trail on the Reagan Ranch property when I spotted a blocky form sitting in a shadow at the edge of a field. About 100 yards away, its profile was accentuated by a backdrop of bright green. Too small to be a mountain lion, too large to be a domestic cat, the wrong shape and behavior to be a coyote, it had to be a bobcat.

Bobcats can be very bold. Last year while warming up for a race at Crystal Cove State Park, I rounded a corner and 50 yards away a bobcat was sauntering down the road. I continued at an easy jog up the road and the bobcat continued walking down the road toward me. I expected it to dart into the bushes, but it just kept walking toward me.

When we were about 20 feet apart, it casually stepped to the edge of the road, near some brush. I slowly approached and then stopped. The cat was five short feet away, with her back to me and head turned toward me. I was astonished to be so close, but a little unnerved by the animals brazen behavior. After what seemed like minutes, but was probably only 10-15 seconds, we both continued on our way.

The Regan Ranch bobcat wasn't nearly as cooperative. I snapped a couple of photos at max zoom (about 90mm) and then as I took a couple of steps in the cat's direction it loped up the hill and into the oaks.

Some related posts: Hawk, Bobcat and Rabbit; Coyote Tag

It was after sunset and I was in the last miles of a run at Ahmanson Ranch. A few minutes earlier I'd noticed a pair of white-tailed kites crisscrossing the grasslands of Lasky Mesa. I assumed it was the same pair of kites I'd been seeing up on the mesa the last few years.

The 'osprey' of the savanna, the white-tailed kite is a medium size, gray and white raptor with gull-like high aspect ratio wings. From below the wings have a dark patch near the tip that is distinctive. Also distinctive is the bird's ability to hover. The white-tailed kite and its close relatives, the black-shouldered kite and black-winged kite, may be the largest birds that can hover for an extended period.

White-tailed kites typically hover 80'-100' feet above the ground while hunting. I've watched them hover over one spot and then another, eventually dropping from the sky to strike their prey. Research suggests this is how the white-tailed kite hunts most of the time, but that is not how the Lasky Mesa pair was hunting tonight.

I'd first seen the pair on the west side of the mesa. Now on the east side of the mesa, with the light fading, I saw them again. This time they were flying together -- one in lead and one in trail -- and making a low, sweeping pass, just a few feet off the ground. Obviously looking for prey they continuously made small adjustments to their flight paths, inspecting one interesting spot and then another. There were calls between the birds -- a dialog seemingly related to the hunt. Was that movement? I'll check. No. Did you check there? Yes.

Their behavior had been intriguing enough that I had stopped to watch. The kites were backlit by the western sky and I snapped a photo of them flying in a leading/trailing formation. I had taken a photo of the lead bird and had just switched to the trailing bird when it suddenly spread its sleek wings and tail, pivoted into an impossible turn, briefly hovered, and then pounced on its prey.

The time from the first photo of the pair to the turn and strike was 18 seconds. It was remarkable to see!

Related video snapshot: White-tailed Kites Soaring at Lasky Mesa

Usually found around marshes, ponds, lakes and reservoirs -- often in large flocks -- this solitary coot was in a conifer forest at 7300' on Twin Peaks in the San Gabriel Mountains, near Los Angeles.

It was only a few feet in front of me when it flushed. Far too large to be a quail, at first I assumed it was a grouse, and was surprised it allowed me to approach so close.

Its wings beating furiously the bird managed to scurry downhill a few yards -- perhaps briefly becoming airborne -- and stop. Preening this feather and that, the bird seemed annoyed to have made such an effort, and more concerned about its feathers than me.

Its wing beats were symmetric and strong and the bird appeared to be healthy, but it was my impression its primaries were not fully formed. American coots (Fulica americana) molt in late summer and it takes about a month for them to return to flight. Maybe this bird was nearing the end of a molt and not quite ready to fly.

But why should the coot be so far from water? I think the closest lake to Twin Peaks is Cogswell Reservoir -- about 5000' lower in elevation and 5.5 miles away.

From last Sunday's trail run to Twin Peaks.

Updated October 18, 2012.

Since 2005 these are the dates I've photographed a tarantula at Ahmanson Ranch (Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve).

September 05 (2012)
September 08 (2006)
September 13 (2005)
September 19 (2007)
September 15 (2009)
October 3 (2012)
October 9 (2012)
October 11 (2006)
October 12 (2011)
October 17 (2012)
October 17 (2012)

Autumn is when maturing male tarantulas (Aphonopelma spp.) wander about in search of a mate.

Four tarantula sightings this October brings the total for Sep/Oct 2012 to five -- by far the most I've seen at Ahmanson during September and October. Last week this tarantula was making his way up a trail in East Las Virgenes Canyon.

The title photograph is from a run on September 5. The raised abdomen is a defensive posture. Tarantulas will scrape their abdomen with their bristly rear legs, launching irritating (urticating) barbed hairs into the air. Most tarantulas I've encountered this time of year do not react defensively -- they're just interested in finding a mate.

Some related posts: Tarantula Time, Sting of the Tarantula Hawk, Tarantula Hawk

A comfortably camouflaged coyote watches me run past.

From a run in mid June on Lasky Mesa in Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve (Ahmanson Ranch).

A Southern Pacific Rattlesnake (Crotalus oreganus helleri) at Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve (formerly Ahmanson Ranch).

The problem with rattlesnakes is that they can be notoriously difficult to see -- especially when they are lurking in the shade on a narrow section of brushy trail and you're wearing sunglasses.

Related post: Big Southern Pacific Rattlesnake at Ahmanson Ranch

I don't think I've ever seen as many rabbits on a run. It seemed that every few strides another rabbit, or two or three rabbits, would pop up on the trail.

Cottontails have a peculiar behavior when people approach. When one sees me running toward it, it will often watch and wait..., watch and wait... It's almost like the rabbit is waiting to see just how close I'll approach. Usually when I'm about 10-12 feet away -- sometimes closer -- it will break for an established escape path. Then just a foot or two into the brush, it will stop again. If you stop and stand very still, many times a rabbit "on pause" will just sit there, 3 to 4 feet away.

Rabbits aren't always so calm. One time I was running down Las Virgenes Canyon and a ground squirrel and rabbit were on the road about 25 yards ahead of me. They must have been preoccupied with each other because when the squirrel finally noticed me, it panicked and bolted toward the rabbit. That caused the rabbit to freak. The rabbit launched like a rocket, just as the squirrel collided with it. The resulting visual was of a rabbit eight feet in the air with a ground squirrel spinning off-kilter below it!

From this morning's Cheeseboro Canyon Loop from the Victory Trailhead of Ahmanson Ranch (Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve).

Related post: Classic Cheeseboro Canyon

Last June I had an unusual encounter with a coyote near the end of a run at Ahmanson Ranch (Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve). For reasons known only to the coyote, the animal behaved like a dog and ran with me a short distance along a dirt road. Not off to the side of the road, or at a distance, but as if on lead and out for a daily jaunt. Today, on the same section of road, I had another odd encounter with a coyote.

This time I rounded a corner to see a coyote calmly trotting down the middle of the dirt road toward me. No big deal, it would do what a coyote normally does -- see me and head for the brush. Except it didn't. This time it continued to trot in my direction. Fifty, thirty, twenty feet -- the gap between us closed. Watching each other intently, we stopped about 12 feet apart.

For a few moments we stared at each other, my expression no doubt showing the same mix of wariness and curiosity as the coyote's. In the practiced motion of something wild, the coyote briefly raised its head, sampling scents of its world on the wind. I edged closer -- not daring to raise my camera, but taking the occasional photo.

A few more seconds passed, then apparently deciding enough was enough, the animal sauntered into the grass.

Coyotes are opportunists and I'm guessing these close encounters are related to an association of people with food -- perhaps discarded food or food intentionally provided. Coyotes also associate people with their pets. Recently I saw a pair of coyotes behaving oddly (also at Ahmanson) and nearby an individual was walking their small dog off lead.

Some related posts: Coyote Tag, Trickster

Originally posted November 25, 2006. Updated April 29, 2013.

Update April 29, 2013. On Sunday, May 19th, the Santa Monica Mountains Fund will hold its second annual fundraiser to support the Mountain Lion Research Project. The event will feature a live mountain lion, a lion tracking trail, interactive displays, food & wine, and more. For more info, to purchase a ticket, or make a donation see the Cougars & Bobcats page of the Santa Monica Mountains Fund web site.

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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 May 2012, twenty-six mountain lions, P1 to P26, have been tracked, 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.

In early 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.

One other female lion was collared and designated P13. DNA testing indicated that P13 was a daughter of P6. At that time P6 was the the only surviving lion from P1 and P2's 2004 litter.

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 the 101 Freeway. Scat found three weeks after the fight was genotyped, and found to be P1's.

In May 2010 P13 had a litter of three kittens -- P17 (female), P18 (male), and P19 (female). The father was P12. Since P12 originated from an area other than the Santa Monica Mountains, this increased 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. P18 was killed August 30, 2011 attempting to cross the 405 freeway.

It is unclear how many male lions now inhabit P1's original territory. P12's collar is no longer functioning. P18 was killed August 30, 2011 attempting to cross the 405 freeway. P15 was found deceased on September 11, 2011. Reportedly another male lion has been photographed in the area.

In May 2010 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. P21, an adult male, is also being tracked in the Santa Susana Mountains. Both P16 and P21 have made excursions into Angeles National Forest, and P16 remains there.

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.

The following lions have (at one time) been collared, and are presumed to be alive:

P-12 - male, collar failed (collared December 2008)*
P-13 - female, collar failed (collared July 2009)*
P-16 - male, collar (collared May 2010)
P-19 - female, collar (collared May 2010)*
P-21 - male, collar (collared June 2011)
P-22 - male, collar (collared May 2012)*
P-23 - female, tracking device (July 2012)*
P-24 - male, tracking device (July 2012)*
P-26 - male, collar (collared August 2012)*

*Home range is the Santa Monica Mountains. Others are in the Santa Susana Mountains or Angeles National Forest.

The mountain lion saga continues...

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

Update October 24, 2012. The remains of P-25, an approximately one year old female mountain lion were discovered by hikers in Point Mugu State Park on Sunday. P-25 and P-26 (male) are the offspring of P-12 (male) and P-13. The death did not appear to be the result of a conflict with another lion. A necropsy is pending.

Update October 18, 2012. This summer NPS biologists discovered two mountain lion kittens, P-23 (female) & P-24 (male), east of Circle X Ranch in the Santa Monica Mountains. They are the offspring of P-12 (male) and P-19, a daughter of P-12. The kittens were outfitted with tracking devices.

Update June 18, 2012. Analysis of the DNA of the mountain lion killed by authorities in downtown Santa Monica May 22 revealed it is related to lions that reside north of the 101 Freeway. One possibility is that the approximately three year old lion was the offspring of mountain lion P-12. P-12 has been documented crossing the 101 Freeway in Agoura and is the only lion known to have done so.

Update May 26, 2012. Earlier this Spring biologists from Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area (SMMNRA) captured an adult male mountain lion in the Griffith Park area. Designated P-22, the approximately three year old lion is the first to have been photographed east of Cahuenga Pass and within the Santa Monica Mountains eco-region. The lion was fitted with a GPS collar and released where it was captured. According to Kate Kuykendall, Public Affairs Officer for the SMMNRA, preliminary genetic analysis by UCLA indicates that P22 is likely from the Santa Monica Mountains, which would mean he crossed both the 405 and the 101 Freeways.

Update November 21, 2011. On October 4, 2011 the National Park Service announced that male mountain lion P-15 has been killed. It was the first documented intentional human-caused death of a mountain lion in the Santa Monica Mountains. P-15's collar stopped transmitting on August 25, 2011. P-15 was was discovered on September 11, 2011, following a report of a dead mountain lion. The California Department of Fish and Game and National Park Service are seeking information related to the death of P-15 and the parties responsible. With the addition of $5000 from the City of Malibu the reward being offered for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the poachers currently stands at $16,700. The DFG Cal Tip Hotline is 1-888-334-2258.

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

I was deep in thought, but have no idea what those thoughts might have been. It was at that point in a run when miles, and thoughts, flow freely. The afternoon was warm and calm and the settling sun cast a golden hue on the blond, oak-studded hills. My footfalls ticked out a steady rhythm on the dirt road, and my mind was at ease.

My reverie was suddenly broken by the realization that a coyote was running with me. Not running yards in the distance, or in the brush off to the side, but five or six feet in front of me, as if restrained by an invisible lead!

It must have come from the tall grass along the margin of the road, but from my daydream-warped perspective had just suddenly appeared. I'm surprised I didn't stumble or start. But there was no hint of aggression or malice -- just a mischievous glance backward to see how I was going to react.

I didn't. I've had numerous encounters with coyotes, but this went so far beyond my other experiences, I didn't know how to react.

For more than 50 yards the coyote ran with me, keeping pace in lead along the deserted dirt road.

At some point I started to try and retrieve my camera from the small pack on my waist. The out of synch movement disturbed the delicate balance of this improbable scene, and I could see the change in the animal's demeanor.

Before disappearing into the cover, the coyote looked back a final time, and in so many words seemed to be saying "gotcha, you're it!"

(From a run Tuesday at Ahmanson Ranch, now Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve.)

Related post: Trickster

What the... Until I saw the water bottle and that the person was talking on a cell phone, I wasn't sure what I was seeing.

Then there was the rattlesnake -- well actually, the two rattlesnakes! Here's an HD video snapshot of one of them. This is an average size Southern Pacific rattlesnake. Because of our cool Spring weather they've been slow to appear, but are now out and about.

Some related posts: Big Southern Pacific Rattlesnake at Ahmanson Ranch, It was So Muddy That..., Overcoming Obstacles on the Trail

I almost always see mule deer when doing a trail run that passes through Trippet Ranch, especially in the morning. They tend to hang out near the parking lot, the pond, the oaks along Eagle Springs fire road, and along the Musch and Dead Horse trails.

Sunday several doe were grazing about five feet from the parking lot, and barely took notice as I (slowly) ran past. I also saw a buck near the start of the Musch Trail, but he was much more skittish, and strutted into the brush as I ran up the hill from the pond.

Related post: Musch Trail Mule Deer

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.

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

From our trail run on Sunday.

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 Limber Pine

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

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

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!

Canyon sunflower (Venegasia carpesioides) tends to grow along cooler sections of chaparral trail. Its rich green leaves and yellow composite flowers are a refreshing sight on a thirsty run.

This canyon sunflower is on a north facing section of the Chumash Trail at an elevation of about 2350 ft. The canyon sunflower population in this area expanded following the 2003 Simi Fire.

On a separate note, it's that time of year again -- at the end of my run this Southern Pacific Rattlesnake was in the street at the Chumash Trailhead on Flanagan Drive in Simi Valley, California.

Related post: Southern Pacific Rattlesnake

Technorati Tags: canyon sunflower, rattlesnake, Simi Valley

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

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.