Coyote Valley Open Space Preserve; Arrowhead Trail (Blogpost the Third)

Fisher Creek 

   Fisher Creek is a seasonal creek which flows through Coyote Valley. It has been raining all week and will rain some more so it was a great day to listen to the creek rush down the hillsides. Hints of spring growth like the feathered leaves of yarrow and the lacy leaves of California poppy sprout among the miner's lettuce. Moss and lichen lined the trees and rocks like snow does around this time in places farther north.

Various mushrooms ruffled out of fallen tree limbs or grew up from mossy mats hugging the creek's stones. Pictured is Stereum hirsutum which grows on fallen oaks. Mushroom scholars what say you?

Stereum hirsutum (Hairy Curtain Crust)

     I lingered a spell at the creek poking among the grasses and weeds, then climbed back up to Arrowhead Trail watching little groups of Dark-eyed Juncos and Sparrows of indeterminate lineage. I love the endless detail of birding, but I draw the line for myself at sparrows. If they help me with wonderful, stark crown stripes I may view from a distance that is one thing; however, if they are all going to just hop and merge and switch places like a roomful of kindergartners, then I throw up my hands and trek on. "Sparrow TBD," perhaps by a more painstaking birder.
  Up at the first bench overlooking Tilton Ranch and the large squares of farmland below, I watched small groupings of Yellow-rumped Warblers and Western bluebirds in the skinny Valley oaks. Somewhere nearby I could hear a few nuthatches lurching up the tree trunks and woodpeckers. There was a hawk or two hunting among all the little birds I tried to espy. Scrub jays and Stellars jays screeched and carried acorns from spot to spot.
   Admittedly, at first I did not want to venture out. "But, what about your Public?" cried my conscience or my inner handler. Without an excursion I would not have material for the next blog. I did not want to have my new endeavor dissipate while we are still only in the first week of 2017. I have not only myself to consider as I might writing in a paper journal in my bedroom. Part of what unstuck me from my messy room and unswept stairs and love affair with malingering in my pajamas was not wanting to leave you, whoever you might be, in front of blank pages. I am glad I have a public which doesn't care whether I comb my hair or match my socks. With ice storms in Maryland (my brother's place) and temperatures well below freezing in Montana (cousin Robin), I did not feel I could put forth excuses against braving some wet grass.
   One of the first things I encountered on Heart's Delight Trail near the parking lot was this gross worm tying itself in a knot. It could very well be a horsehair worm though I can't say I am up on my worms these days.