This is our first full day of being back from a two night camping trip on Mt. Diablo. It seems the summer rush has not yet started, so we pretty much had the camp ground to ourselves, with the exception of two lizards who had claimed the bathroom building as their refuge, and one female turkey who Tyler named Mildred, but we called her Millie. She appeared to be the sole turkey in the area, and we decided she was probably an older bird; her tail feathers were a little tattered, and her overall color was muted. We watched her methodical comings and goings, including a surprising brief flight. She even walked into our campsite as she went about perusing the area for food. She was definitely much less impressed by our presence than we were with hers.
Many birds live in the Mt. Diablo State Park, so the day into night was filled with bird calls, including those of ravens and a Great Horned Owl. The weather was definitely warm, but not overly hot as that area can get. I spotted a gopher snake that was stretched out as long as it possibly could be to take in the sun. Tyler also saw what he thought was a California striped racer snake who stopped by, but a visit to the Mt. Diablo Summit Visitor Center on Wednesday morning revealed that what he had actually seen was the Alameda whipsnake which is considered rare and endangered. I am sorry I did not get to see this seldom seen creature, but I am grateful for the photographic display at the visitor center.
We did not get to see many stars. While it felt to me like we were surely far away from any possibility of light pollution, we were actually only 14 to 16 miles from the large human settlements of Danville and Walnut Creek. That means a lot of light is being generated, and 16 miles is not nearly far enough for complete darkness. I am still amazed at how remote our campsite felt, but the bathrooms were a clue: they included flush toilets, showers, and even hot water.
While we weren't able to see a grand celestial show, we did have a nice view of the moon. It was just past its full moon phase, so it was still round and bright in the sky. Nonetheless, the night held a surprise for us. We were awakened from our nocturnal rest by the piercingly loud sounds of yips, howls, and other mysterious vocalizations of what sounded to be a pack or maybe even two of at least a hundred coyotes. The sound seemed to be all around us. We heard them again around dawn. Once again we found ourselves outside cell phone coverage so we could not do any research about what we heard so we were left to our fertile and imaginative musings. Such musings can be misleading, and facts can be helpful for holding misleading notions in check.
I have long respected the resourcefulness of coyotes, but after my morning reading, I find myself even more in awe. I have learned that most packs of coyotes include the alpha male and female, maybe some adult offspring, and pups. Their vocalizations are varied and yes, can be loud, due to the distances the sound must cover. They are social animals who mate for life. What we imagined to be several packs coming together, was probably just one group consisting of maybe 15 animals of various ages and hierarchical levels. Their vocalizations are not idle chatter, but rather fairly sophisticated communications between pack members. Such enthusiastic vocalizations also alert others about who is in the territory. The second night we were there, we heard them again, but they were further away. When we woke Wednesday morning we heard them once more and they were much closer. That morning we also woke up in dense fog and the temperature was much cooler. When I ventured outside the camper, it was still foggy. I saw a smallish solitary coyote over by the restroom. I watched it sniff around some, perhaps intrigued by the scent of a tasty lizard or two. However, there was little chance they would be out in that early chilly morning. The coyote then began to walk in our direction. At that point I took the advice of the lizards and retreated back into the camper. I know coyotes seldom want to engage with humans, but I was not awake enough to press that assumption. I also read this morning that solitary coyotes are typically younger coyotes who have left what is called their natal packs in order to find a mate and start their own pack in another territory. My respect for these fascinating and resilient creatures has grown because of what we experienced and learned.
I have started keeping an informal log of the creatures we see and hear on our outings. I am also going to order a field guide to the animals found in the West to take with us because we periodically find ourselves without a cell signal. Climate change, an administration that does not seem to have any interest in conservation whatsoever, and, of course, my age are all telling me to pay attention to who and what I am and am not seeing. The photograph I am attaching is the view we saw from our campsite. The woods that surrounded us support the life that we were able to get a glimpse of and enjoy in our short time there. Our state and national parks, already understaffed, are not immune to a marauding government and disrespectful human visitors. Many of the beautiful sandstone rocks and caves in the park are covered with graffiti, and there is a real danger of some of our currently protected public lands being sold off for private production and development. I was at risk of ending this post on a somber note, yet this morning, just in the nick of time, I received this encouraging reminder from Rabbi Yael Levy:
"As many ways as there are to get lost
that’s how many ways there are to return
.Let us walk with care
and lift up lightsfor and with each other."
Let us continue to celebrate what we have, and work for the good as best we can.
If you want to explore coyote vocalizations, YouTube is a good place to start:
