Santa Monica Creek

April 18th, 2009 by John Callender

I took a walk the other day along Santa Monica Creek, entering where the bikepath starts at El Carro Lane, then turning north toward the mountains and walking along the dirt footpath that parallels the channelized creek:

santa_monica_creek1

There’s usually some pretty good bird watching along the creek (well, all bird watching is good), with an interesting assortment of species from the various habitats that come together there: The suburban area to the east (which includes my house), the open flower fields across the creek to the west, and a few big trees.

There used to be more trees along the creek, but in the decade and a half since I moved to Carp we’ve lost some of the biggest ones. An old oak died and was cut down a few years ago, and a big sycamore was taken out this past year. Here’s William standing next to the stump of the sycamore:

william_sycamore_stump

I’m not sure if the trees died as a result of changes in the environment (like the channelization of the creek, which happened in the 1970s), or if they were just at the end of their natural lifespans, but at least in the section just north of El Carro there don’t seem to be many new trees coming along to take their place.

Up closer to Foothill, though, the tree situation improves. The suburbs end, and while there are extensive greenhouses on both sides of the creek there is some open space, too, and some nice trees. These two young sycamores are growing next to the channel:

santa_monica_creek2

There were a number of interesting birds there the other day, including some black-headed grosbeaks, a pair of purple finches that I watched feeding for a while, and a pacific-slope flycatcher that I kept hearing, but never got a good look at. A neighbor of mine saw a white-winged dove in the area recently, and I’ve been keeping my eyes peeled, but so far I haven’t seen it.

I’ve never followed the creek north of Foothill, but I’ve checked it out in Google Earth. The creek continues north in channelized form for another half mile, then twists through some big flood-control structures before reverting to its natural state. I was reading recently that the Rancho Monte Alegre development has donated some land with a conservation easement in the upper Santa Monica Creek drainage; supposedly there’s some good steelhead trout habitat up there. With the recent changes that have been made to remove barriers to steelhead migration on Carpinteria Creek, I wonder if Santa Monica Creek might be the next place that could benefit from some steelhead-friendly restoration.

During the 2006 Carpinteria City Council race, one of the candidates mentioned dechannelization at a candidate’s forum, prompting one of the other candidates to respond, “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” I realize there are people who view creeks as nothing more than drainage channels; certainly that view was well-represented when the decision was made to channelize lower Santa Monica Creek. But moving storm water downhill is only one of the things a creek does. Providing habitat, and giving people the chance to take a shady walk through a beautiful natural setting, are important, too.

When I looked at the concrete-lined channel of Santa Monica Creek the other day, I thought about that City Council candidate’s words. They were like concrete: There was no flexibility there, no possibility of change. What a ridiculous notion. Dechannelize the creek? Are you crazy?

Maybe the Santa Monica Creek channel will be lined with concrete for the rest of my life, and bringing up alternatives just makes me look foolish. But the longer I live, the more I come to realize that the things I think of as permanent aren’t always as solid as they seem. With enough time, and the steady application of the right kind of pressure, even concrete might eventually give way.

Marsh Invertebrates

April 1st, 2009 by John Callender

I really enjoy GrrlScientist’s Living the Scientific Life (Scientist, Interrupted) blog (especially the “Mystery Bird of the Day” feature), so when she mentioned recently that she was looking for submissions for the Circus of the Spineless blog carnival, I decided to take a walk at the salt marsh to look for invertebrates, and write about what I found.

There’s a new sign at the north entrance to the marsh, by the way. Wouldn’t this make a cool photo for Mystery Bird of the Day? Can you recognize the bird? It’s a common species in the marsh and on nearby beaches.

park_sign

One of the first invertebrates I noticed at the marsh during my walk were these shiny green insect larvae, happily munching away on the leaves of coyote brush (Baccharis pilularis).

caterpillars

These guys were on every coyote brush I looked at; I count six of them in this picture alone. I did a quick estimate, and decided that there were about 500 of them on a single large plant. Multiply that by the amount of coyote brush at the marsh, and that’s a lot of larvae.

At first I thought they were some kind of caterpillar, but after posting my photo at bugguide.net, early speculation has centered on the genus Trirhabda, a kind of leaf beetle. Looking at this image of Trirhabda flavolimbata made me remember that several months ago I’d seen a beetle that looked a lot like that all over the coyote brush. According to this entry at bugguide.net, there are at least three species of Trirhabda in coastal California, with T. flavolimbata being the one that specializes in coyote brush.

Update: I took most of the photos in this blog entry during a walk with William on Sunday, March 29. Based on the discussion at bugguide.net, I went back this morning — Thursday, April 2 — with Julia to get some better photos. Here are three that she took (posted at bugguide.net here, here, and here).

This gives you a good shot of the larva’s head:

green_larva_head

This shows the larva’s body, as well as a dark fluid on the plant that I’m assuming is related to the larva in some way, though I’m not sure how. Maybe it’s fluid that is draining from the fresh “frass” (insect poop) on the leaf above it?

green_larva_fluid

In reference to that fluid, Charley Eiseman, author of the upcoming book Invertebrate Tracks & Sign, wrote in response to an email I sent him:

If these were caterpillars or sawfly larvae, I might be a little worried about their health, but more “soupy” excrement isn’t too unusual for leaf beetle larvae.

You know, I never expected when I got out of bed this morning that I’d be learning about the consistency of leaf beetle excrement. But I think it’s cool that the larva’s soupy poop actually helps confirm the ID.

Finally, here’s a shot that shows the larva’s prolegs. Some of the commenters at bugguide.net were especially interested in seeing those.

green_larva_prolegs

[Back to the original blog entry.]

While looking at the coyote brush, I also noticed this interesting white object:

scale_insect_wide

I wasn’t sure at the time what it was, but I had a vague recollection that led me to google for “scale insect”, and sure enough, this looks a lot like a cottony cushion scale (Icerya purchasi) (and Charley Eiseman, writing at bugguide.net, agrees). Here’s a cropped version of the original image to give you a better look:

scale_insect

My google search led me to gardenbees.com’s Cottony Cushion Scale: The pest that launched a revolution in pest control methods. Among the things I learned there:

  • This is a female scale insect.
  • The actual insect is the brownish thing at the upper right, covered by white waxy fibers. She’s attached herself to the plant, and is more or less immobile.
  • The large, white, grooved part extending to the left is not her abdomen, as I originally thought. It’s an external egg case.
  • The cottony cushion scale is not native to North America. It hitchhiked here from Australia in 1868, arriving on a shipment of plants and soon becoming a serious pest in the California orange groves.
  • The scale was eventually controlled by introducing one of its natural predators, an Australian lady bug. When I read that, it reminded me that I’d already read another account of that same event, in Sue Hubbell’s excellent book, Broadsides from Other Orders.

Continuing the list of things feeding on the coyote brush, I noticed this swelling at the end of a coyote brush stem. It’s a gall, the work of an insect that lays its egg inside the plant, leading the plant to create an enlarged chamber within which the insect larva grows:

coyote_brush_gall

I had no idea what insect might have done this, though Charley Eiseman responded at bugguide.net that he thinks it was made by a species of midge, Rhopalomyia californica. Looking at some of the other photos at bugguide.net, I think he’s probably right. I’ve been unable to find an image of the adult midge, but Flickr user “Eric in SF” opened up one of the galls and took a photo of the larva.

According to an article abstract I found online (Ecology of Rhopalomyia californica Felt at Jasper Ridge), the midge “is under investigation as a possible biological control agent against related species of Baccharis that are rangeland weeds in Texas and Australia.”

Another type of gall can be seen in this photo. These are in a leaf of the arroyo willow (Salix lasiolepis) growing next to the boardwalk that winds through the marsh’s small patch of coastal dune habitat:

willow_gall

Again, I had no idea as to the species of insect involved, but Charley Eiseman wrote at bugguide.net that he thinks it is a sawfly of the genus Pontania.

As I mentioned, the marsh’s patch of coastal dune habitat is small, but it’s very important to at least one species: the globose dune beetle (Coelus globosus), a coastal specialist that has become rare as coastal dunes give way to houses and condos. Andrea Adams-Morden has pointed out the trails in the dunes to me and told me they were produced by globose dune beetles, and I’ve seen a few dead beetles, but so far I’ve never found a live one. In the meantime, I like checking out their trails, which the beetles leave as they burrow just under the surface of the sand. Can you see the beetle trails in this photo?

beetle_tracks

Here’s a closeup of some beetle trails. It looks to me like maybe there was a single beetle that entered from the upper right, did a counter-clockwise loop, crossed its own earlier trail, and exited at the upper left:

beetle_tracks_detail

There’s a neat series of photos of a related species, Eusattus dilatatus, at the myrmecos blog: Friday Beetle Blogging: Eusattus Dune Beetle. You can see the beetle burrowing into the sand, a process that takes about 30 seconds.

One of the best-known invertebrates in the Carpinteria salt marsh is the California horn snail (Cerithidea californica). Millions of these marine snails live in the marsh; you can see them crawling over the mudflats at low tide, and after they die their shells get washed out of the marsh entrance and turn up along the beach at Carpinteria, where I’ve picked up dozens of them during a single walk.

One of my favorite lectures during docent training was given by Dr. Kevin Lafferty, a parasitologist who has studied the use of horn snail parasites as a way of measuring ecosystem health in coastal marshes. I didn’t get any photos of horn snails during my walk in the marsh this past weekend, but I did take some photos of the very cool interpretive sign near the Franklin Creek bridge that talks about the complex life cycles of salt marsh parasites. Here’s a close-up of part of the sign:

horn_snail_sign_detail

If you want to learn more, you can see the image of the whole sign that I posted on Flickr, and click through to the largest size, which should be fairly readable.

One other invertebrate at the marsh, one that’s actually kind of similar to the California horn snail in size and shape, is the decollate snail (Rumina decollata). It’s a terrestrial snail, not an aquatic one. I noticed them crawling across the trail near Ash Avenue one morning when I was walking the marsh with William, and I was surprised, because I’d never seen an elongated snail like that on land before. An email to the carpmarshfriends Yahoo group got me some help with the ID, after which I learned more about the snail at the nice Wikipedia article on it.

Decollate snails are non-native; they originate near the Mediterranean, and are predators who feed on the eggs and young of other snails. They’re used by gardeners as a means of controlling another non-native, the invasive brown garden snail, and presumably that’s how these guys got into the marsh: crawling in from someone’s garden along Ash Avenue.

They’re nocturnal, and so far I’ve only seen them early in the morning after a rain. I couldn’t find any on my recent walk, but I did find this empty shell of one:

decollate_snail_shell

Update: When Julia and I returned to the marsh on April 2 to get better photos of the larvae on the coyote brush, we also found a decollate snail climbing in the blue-eyed grass (Sisyrinchium bellum). I really like this shot Julia took of it:

decollate_snail

She also got this shot from the other side, showing what looks to me like a thread of some sort emerging from the area of the snail’s mouth. I didn’t notice it at the time, so I can’t tell you anything else about it, but it’s certainly interesting. What’s going on with that?

decollate_snail_thread

Thinking about it some more, and staring at the largest version of the image, I find myself thinking a wacky thought: What if the snail actually ate a spider? Could that happen? If it did, could it have left the spider’s dragline extending away from the snail’s mouth? I guess it’s a lot more likely that the snail decided to snack on a stray piece of silk, or just ran into it and got tangled up.

Overall, I had a really fun time rummaging for invertebrates at the marsh. I hope you enjoyed reading about them.

Flower Time

March 31st, 2009 by John Callender

I’ve mentioned how I like to avoid driving on weekends, but I was happy to make an exception last Saturday when Linda suggested a trip to Figueroa Mountain. Here’s why:

figueroa_flowers

Those are lupines in the foreground, lupines and California poppies in the background, and people with dazed grins on their faces walking the trail. This was right by the road — I snapped the photo with my phone out the passenger window while Linda drove.

I’ve seen lots of interesting plant reproduction closer to home lately, too. The young California sycamores at the Heath Ranch Park had some pretty reddish fruits coming in the other day:

sycamore_fruit

It’s seeding time for the arroyo willows at the Carpinteria salt marsh; here’s a shot that shows seeds embedded in the fluff that will carry them away the next time a good wind blows through:

willow_seeds

Finally, I’d never noticed the blue-eyed grass at the marsh before; I’m not sure how I managed to just walk by such beautiful flowers in years past without paying attention. They were starting to fade when I was there today, but a few weeks ago they were really impressive looking:

blue_eyed_grass

Statues

March 15th, 2009 by John Callender

The Carpinteria school board is meeting Tuesday night to rule on the Native American imagery issue. As anyone who has lived in Carp over the last year knows, the question of what to do about the schools’ “warrior” mascot has generated a lot of controversy. Media outlets beyond Carpinteria have taken notice; see Steve Chawkins’ recent article in the LA Times (In Carpinteria, a battle over a high school’s symbols), or Cathy Murillo’s article in The Independent (Carpinteria School Board to Decide Mascot Issue).

One piece of Native American imagery that has figured prominently in the controversy is the Indian-head bust at the entrance to the high school. It was a gift from the graduating class of 1970. Here’s a photo of it taken by flickr user kbaird:

indian1

Making a work of art using stone (or at least, something approximately stone-like; I’m not sure exactly how the warrior head at Carp High was constructed) is an interesting choice. It’s certainly not the easiest medium to work in. But on the other hand, the results of your work can survive for a long time. There’s a risk in that; the social context in which your work is interpreted can evolve in directions you didn’t anticipate. I was thinking about issues like that as I snapped the following photos of public statuary in Carp during some walks over the last month or so.

Here’s the seal fountain on Linden in front of Von’s. It might not be the most anatomically-correct representation of a seal, but it’s a cute fountain:

vons_seal

Here’s the newer seal statue, with mother and pup, that was just installed at the ocean end of Linden:

linden_seal

Linda makes fun of the dorky expressions on the faces of these seals, but I don’t know; I think the artist did a pretty good job of capturing the expression that harbor seals naturally have.

Not a statue per se, but I like this tile mural of a Chumash tomol being caulked with naturally occurring tar. As most Carp residents know, the city got its current name when Spanish explorers saw this activity taking place, and named the location La Carpinteria (the carpenter shop). The mural is at the corner of Linden and Eighth Street:

tile_tomol

Yesterday William and his buddy Spencer were rotting their brains with the Xbox, and at a certain point I got tired of listening to them kill each other and mandated a trip to the park. They seemed (to my admittedly prejudiced eye) to be having just as much fun racing parkour-style through the play structure, and it gave me a chance to pop over and get a few photos of another statue.

This was at the Heath Ranch Park (which I and pretty much everyone else call Eucalyptus Park, for the huge trees that survive from those that originally lined the driveway of the Heath’s Victorian house). When the Heath home was being demolished, the remains of the original adobe home it was built around were discovered, and those remains were preserved. If you visit the display and look carefully at the photo in the interpretive sign, you can see the graceful statue that stood in the fountain in front of the Victorian house:

heath_adobe

The fountain no longer operates, but the statue is (mostly) still there, a reminder to artists who choose to work in stone: Do your best work. It might outlast you.

heath_statue

Rain at the Bluffs

February 8th, 2009 by John Callender

It rained a lot on Friday, and on Saturday morning, but by Saturday afternoon the sun was out, so I took a walk at the bluffs.

This tree, which is one of the eucalyptus trees that grow along the Artist’s Passage at the bluffs, always makes me think of the anthropomorphized trees that try to grab Snow White when she’s lost in the forest:

artists_passage

The management plan for the bluffs has some interesting elements. One of them is that the (non-native) eucalyptus trees along the Artist’s Passage won’t be removed. They can be replaced over time with native trees (presumably sycamores), but the intention is that there will always be a row of mature trees along that part of the bluffs.

Another interesting provision of the management plan concerns the open meadow areas. The city is required to preserve those meadows as part of preserving the visual character of the bluffs. But the city is specifically prohibited from using motorized equipment (like a tractor) to do so.

My understanding is that before the public acquisition of the bluffs those meadows were plowed every few years using a tractor; that’s what kept them meadows. Now that process has stopped. What does that mean? Will the meadows gradually be replaced by coastal sage scrub?

I’ve asked Andrea Adams-Morden about it, and she says nobody really knows. Most of the grasses in the meadows are non-native African species. In a contest between them and the native scrub, which will win? My guess is that eventually the scrub will win. That would seem to conflict with the “maintain the meadows” language in the management plan, but with the process of succession being so slow (at least by human standards), and with the more-obvious means of meadow maintenance (either plowing or fire) either explicitly prohibited or politically infeasible, I think the likeliest outcome is that the meadows will gradually turn into scrub.

Here’s a view from the Rhodes Fleming Coastal Trail, looking north toward the Bailard Avenue parking. There’s meadow, but there’s also a fair amount of coyote bush (which has been dispersing into the area via its wind-blown seeds). I wonder what this will look like in 10 or 20 years.

bush_invasion

Down at the seal overlook, the seal watch volunteer that I chatted with was annoyed: a few minutes before my arrival a jogger passed by, jogging from right to left. You can see the jogger’s tracks near the bottom of the sandy area in the shot I took:

footprints

A baby harbor seal, born that morning, was among the seals that stampeded into the water when the jogger passed by. That’s really dangerous for the baby seals; they can be trampled, and in general, the more the seals are disturbed the greater the chances that the pups will become separated from their mothers. As I stood there talking with the volunteer, though, a young seal that she identified as the pup in question emerged from the water, so hopefully things worked out okay in this case.

On my way back I stopped by a spot on the north side of the Artist’s Passage, where someone has erected a teepee of sticks to mark where oil has been oozing from the ground. The management plan refers to this location specifically; it describes it as being either an abandoned well or a natural seep, and calls for the city to figure out which one it is and, if it’s an abandoned well, to cap it and clean it up.

I don’t know if the question has been definitively answered. I know Susan Allen is convinced it’s an abandoned well, and it does seem like an odd place for a natural seep. I’d like to investigate the issue more, maybe in the photo archives at the Carpinteria Valley Museum of History. I’d be really interested to know if there are any historical photos that show oil drilling there.

It’s a relatively minor issue, as such concerns go. But I think it has some relevance as Carpinterians think about Venoco’s latest action. Last week Venoco said it was withdrawing the Paredon proposal that has been working its way through the city’s planning process. Now the company is pushing for a direct ballot initiative to approve the project.

I’m sure I’ll have more to say on that in the future. For now, I think about this patch of oil at the bluffs, and what it symbolizes. Presumably someone dug a well there once. Maybe they made some money. Maybe they didn’t. Eventually, though, they moved on. When they did, they left behind a bit of a mess that Carpinterians are dealing with to this day.

abandoned_well1