Birds, Dogs, and Whales; oh my!

They mark the passage of our quiet solitary days.  Birds come in the morning to our makeshift feeding station while we enjoy coffee on the porch.  A large flat rock serves up the seed gifted to us by the home owner before he headed to the States. The garbage can lid, nested in a gentle depression in the sand has become the bird bath.  Common Ground Doves, White-winged Doves and the ubiquitous collared-doves are our most regular customers.  While the doves each raise a single wing to defend their personal space, the sparrows take advantage of the distraction and enjoy leisurely sips and wading experiences.  A little later the cactus wrens prefer the shadows of the young palms where I have scattered crumbled tortillas too dry for our preference.  Across the yard, brightly colored Hooded Orioles sing amongst the treetops' orange blooms.  We hear the sweet song of the House Finch more often than we see the vocalist.  The Gila woodpecker busies himself exploring the seed left by the doves and enjoying the safe harbor of the young palms' boughs.  What he really wishes for is our absence from the front porch so he can continue his excavation of the two outermost posts on our front porch.  At irregular intervals in late morning or afternoon the California quail push their top knot through the yard, all the while they chuck quietly at each other, mostly talking about "Chief WA-hoo"  and ignoring us and our feeding station.  The giant white Great Egret gracefully stalks the hill separating our yard from the beach.  Once she has gathered her fill of insects her long bill, neck and legs are gracefully swept away on wings out-spanning those of any Montana raptor.

Like the birds, we prefer morning for our active time of day.  Our walks to town start in the morning before the Baja sun has completed its warming duties.  The dogs, I am sad to admit, are responsible for our current pattern of making minimal trips to town.  Two of the most convenient ways in house known "bad" dogs.  The other two ways lead to the two ends of town least convenient to our errands, but so far have only offered walled-in and leashed dogs.  Sonrisa, our neighbor's sweet dog has once again adopted us and this year seems to know I want protection from other dogs.  Her favorite activity, sleeping in the sun, is only interrupted when she senses a strange dog approaching.  I became aware of her new habit one day at the beach.  My eyes were closed and I enjoyed the sun's warmth over my whole body when I was suddenly disturbed by a clumsy dog attempting a leap over my prone body.  What heck...?!?.  My eyes popped open in time to see Sonrisa racing toward a new dog.  Warily the two did the canine version of checking each other out.  Sonrisa's body language did not reflect a positive reception on her part.  In fact, our normally mild-mannered dog kept the newcomer well away from our place on the sand.

After witnessing that behavior, I've learned to look to Sonrisa for guidance when encountering a strange dog. On another day, as I walked up the little hill from the beach,  I was greeted by three barking dogs!  I froze in my tracks with words like "Pack!" and "Chihuahuas" and "Little dogs still bite" passing through my mind.  A large black dog followed the little ones; all three barking nonstop.  Still I could not make my feet move.  Wait!  Sonrisa circled 'round behind behind me and greeted the "pack" in her friendly mode, as if to say she'd already met these dogs and gave them the nod of approval.  Only then could I lift a foot toward the house.

One day earlier this week Sonrisa ran with me up the arroyo.  I have to admit, I felt more at ease on that run; my only worry was that Sonrisa might have committed to more exercise than was her custom.  I surely did not want to tell her real owner that I'd left her alone up the arroyo.  She did lag back a bit and once I had to stop to call for her, bit she did indeed make it back home with me!


That evening, Sonrisa sat next to me while I enjoyed the sunset:

The one mammal Sonrisa ignores is the giant gray whale.  They pass our section of beach daily.  Most are heading north to calving grounds in Bahia Magdalena, Laguna San Ignacio and Laguna Guerrro Negro on the Pacific side of Baja California Sur.  I have read that they prefer calving in these relatively shallow lagoons as they are safe there.  The larger Orca or killer whales, enemies of the grays do not enter the shallower waters.

We do still  see some whale pods that seem to still be heading south.  Are they "late bloomers?"  Or simply whales who haven't successfully mated?  At any rate, for three or four evenings in a row we were treated to whale shows so close to shore, we could hear their breath as they blew a spout into the air.  The mottling on their tail fins showed when the large paddles sliced the waters surface turning and momentarily pausing before disappearing again under the waves.

This was a lousy photo even before I blew it up, but maybe it shows the mottling on the tail fin:

Occasionally they swam close enough to the surface we could see their whole long backs.  They were so terribly close to shore for so many evenings in a row I couldn't help but imagine human-like conversations amongst them, "Hey, if you have been following a sweet looking partner and haven't yet consummated the deal, I hear there's a perfect romantic spot just south of San Pedrito."  That's the surf point near our beach.  But now all that seems to have ended and all the whales we see are further out, heading north with very little evidence of "playing around."  I wonder if it's getting late in the season for them and they are now urgently traveling north.

We, too will soon be leaving this sweet spot.  In a few days we will begin our own migration to the east.  First we'll have to go north or south to circumnavigate the mountains down the middle of Baja.  We'll head south first to rent a car, then decide which way we'll go to get to the other side.
Either way, I'm sure we'll be treated to more Baja gifts.