Bay Island Nature

Elephant Seals are born in winter on beach colonies and by the time they're weaned at one month have quadrupled their size. Mothers leave the young, after one month, to learn to swim and feed on their own. (Image by Jerry Kirkhart/Wikimedia ) By Sharol Nelson-Embry Trekking through sand dunes on a beautiful Northern California day last weekend, we rounded a bend and came to a group of huge elephant seals scattered like fallen logs around us. This was Bob's (my husband) birthday wish, to visit the Año Nuevo State Park's Northern Elephant Seal colony. Our docent guide had cautioned us to stick close to her on our walk out to the dunes. You can never be sure where these outlying animals will turn up. These, she told us, were the "losers," the male elephant seals that were too young to gather a harem and mate, or even hang around the fringes of the harem. We were still about 1/2 mile from the beach where the harems covered swaths of sand. The young males aro

Cedar Waxwing with its favorite winter food, berries. ( Cheapshot/Wikimedia ) by Sharol Nelson-Embry As I was out walking the dog just before another big rainstorm hit our Island City the other day, I noticed large flocks of birds in the bare tree branches. As I paused and my bird dog lifted her head in interest, I thought they were probably ordinary, non-native starlings. After parsing out their calls, though, I was excited to find it was actually two separate flocks — one of robins and one of cedar waxwings!   The waxwings are one of my favorite birds and among the first I could readily identify in my college ornithology class. I was so excited about them, that I showed them to my husband when we were dating. He was later able to point them out on campus to another pair of students that were interested in them. He told them the birds name and let them know how special they were. That was his first time as a “bird whisperer.” He’s never forgotten it. Notice the r

My camellia tree in all of its winter glory (photo by author) by Sharol Nelson-Embry Just when the holiday excitement is over and the gloom, rain, and short days of January begin to wear on me, my camellias come through, blooming with exuberant enthusiasm. Their branches, heavy-laden with seemingly endless blossoms, attract throngs of honeybees on warm days and small songbirds every morning. The trees are like a small, bustling city with all of the activity. Yellow-rumped warblers, flocks of bouncing bushtits, and Anna’s hummingbirds work among the flowers and branches for insects, nectar, and pollen. One tree, in a sunnier location, bursts forth in late December with red petals unfurling to reveal a center of sunny yellow stamens. The other, a pink variety, is in a shadier spot and saves its blooms for a little later. They keep me going well into March. A honey bee visits -- notice its yellow "pollen baskets" where the bee collects pollen to take back to the hi

A dramatic rendering of Orion pursuing Taurus from Johannes Hevelius , a 17th c. Polish astronomer and brewer who compiled the most comprehensive star atlas at that time. ( Wikimedia image ) From my backyard after dark, I if I look over the camellia bush, neighbor’s fence, past the power pole, and up into the night sky I can see stars bright enough to shine through the urban night glare. I can go out and watch the moon rise and the planets in their succession and timing. As I was pondering there the other night, I realized I had a full view of Orion’s famous belt, and part of Taurus the Bull. Just out of view to the west, the Seven Sisters (the Pleiades) fled in front of Taurus and just below Orion’s left heel, his two faithful dogs trailed, the Big Dog and the Little Dog, Canis Major and Canis Minor. How many of you know these constellations? These were my first constellations I could reliably identify beyond the Big Dipper. They are prominent in the southern winter