Catch Of The Day /  by Michael Johns

Part of the work we do includes monitoring the diet of several seabird species that serve as indicators of fish populations in the Gulf of the Farallones. This involves sitting in arm chairs near nesting areas or in blinds with a pair of binoculars and watching birds fly in with bill loads of fish. Species such as pigeon guillemots and common murres deliver a single fish held in their bill with every foraging trip, so we can identify the type and size of each prey item fed to the awaiting chick. Earlier in the season, we were seeing a lot of juvenile rockfish in their diet, and it turns out pinnipeds like to take the adults too. This Steller's sea lion was seen tossing a vermillion rockfish at the surface, shredding it into more manageable pieces while the western gulls snatched up the smaller bits. 

Natural Fireworks /  by Michael Johns

We do a fare bit of night work out here on the Farallones, from banding Ashy Storm-petrels to access population trends to netting Rhinoceros Auklets to collect diet samples. On this particular night, on our way back to the house after conducting cave surveys for an endemic cricket species, we noticed the waves in Maintop Bay were giving off tiny flashes of bright blue-green light. It was bioluminescence, a natural emission of light produced by living organisms, in this case by microscopic phytoplankton called dinoflagellates. The agitation of the surf causes them to give off this glow, lighting up the shoreline with a natural display of fireworks. Although not visible in this photo, I can assure you the sparkling waves evoked several "wows". 

History /  by Michael Johns

Southeast Farallon Island has an eclectic mix of old structures from the days of the Russian fur trade, the Gold Rush, and the lighthouse keepers families, that have been repurposed for modern use. This old stone building for example now serves as our wood shop, or "Carp Shop" as we like to call it. 

Final Light /  by Michael Johns

Summer weather offshore of Central California typically falls into three categories: wind, fog, or both. This often catches tourists off guard, where people expecting a warm July whale watch outside the bay end up wearing shorts and a t-shirt on a 5-hour long cruise in cold pea soup fog. Occasionally, however, the fog vanishes and the wind subsides, setting the stage for a fleeting phenomena of pleasant weather. On these rare clear evenings, usually towards the end of summer and into fall, lofty stratocumulus clouds paint the sky brilliant shades of sunset colors during the final minutes of remaining light. 

They Grow Up Fast /  by Michael Johns

After a two week hiatus from the island, I arrived yesterday to the signs of change. The landscape on the Farallones is now significantly drier, the gulls less intense in their areal assaults, and many of the seabird species we monitor now have chicks big enough to leave the protection of their parents and start life as individuals. The common murre chick pictured here is close it 3 weeks old, and will soon follow the male parent through a busy colony, past a dense pile of hauled out sea lions, and over a steep cliff into the sea. Thousands more murre chicks will do the same, in nightly mass fledging events that take place just after dusk. These chicks will then be reared by the male at sea until they are big enough to fly and forage on their own, bringing the chick to the fish instead of the fish to the chick. 

Stormy Netting /  by Michael Johns

The wind has finally dropped and the moon is close to new; prime conditions for working the mist net. We've started a third round of Ashy Storm-petrel netting to put out more bands for a long-term mark-recapture study, and PIT tags for a graduate student's PhD work. Last night we opened the net just after 1030PM to a flurry of activity, catching 6 birds within minutes. Red filters on our headlamps help to minimize handling stress to the palm-sized seabirds, while we record wing chord, brood patch status, mass, and secure the band and tag. The pace slowed by the second hour, forcing us to quit an hour early due to a lack of activity. The night was slow, but the stars and a freak lightning show over San Fransisco kept things interesting until it was time to head back to the house.  

The Other Inhabitants /  by Michael Johns

Along with 13 species of breeding birds, the Farallones are used as a haul out and pupping site for 5 species of Pinnipeds. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, Pinnipeds are the "fin-footed" marine mammals, a taxonomic distinction that describes all of the seals, sea lions, and walrus. Northern Elephant Seals, Fur Seals, Steller Sea Lions, California Sea Lions, and Harbor Seals can all be seen in various numbers and reproductive stages on the island throughout the the year. They offer a visual reprieve from many hours of waiting for birds to stand off their nests and reveal what's brooding underneath. These two massive adult male Steller Sea Lions were occupying the same territory, and likely had just finished an epic battle that must have ended in a stalemate. True Chewbaccas of the sea. 

Eggs, So Many Eggs /  by Michael Johns

Common murres, pictured here, are some of the most devoted parents on the island. Although their mint green eggs are laid on precarious rocky cliff ledges, few are lost given intense parental care and attention. Tucked beneath soft breast feathers and wedged between a pair of webbed feet, common murre eggs withstand driving wind and harsh weather for roughly 28 days before a chick eventually emerges from within. We have been waiting and watching patiently from blinds above the colony for weeks now for this event to happen, with the first hatches scheduled to occur sometime in mid June. 

When Night Falls /  by Michael Johns

Somewhere between four and nine thousand ashy storm-petrels breed on Southeast Farallon Island, roughy half of the world's population. These sparrow-sized seabirds are tiny versions of more familiar open ocean wanderers like shearwaters and albatrosses, and like their relatives they brave extreme oceanic storms in a truly pelagic lifestyle. Ashy storm-petrels only arrive on colony after dusk and depart before dawn, and are almost never seen on island during the day. So in order to study this species, you have to forgo normal working hours and venture out into the field at night. During lulls in the spring winds, we head out just before 10PM to suitable storm-petrel breeding habitats and set up a long wall of fine mesh netting called a mist net. Calls of ashy storm-petrels are played with a loud speaking near the net to attract unsuspecting birds. Storm-petrels caught in the mist net are then measured, weighed, and banded with a small metal numeric leg band before being released; part of a mark-recapture study aimed to arrive at a more accurate estimate of the breeding population on the Farallones. Along with the joys of working with such an incredible seabird species, on clear nights we are also treated to a dazzling display of our own galaxy. 

Taking A Puffin Break /  by Michael Johns

Every morning, following a hot cup of coffee and a quick tune in to NPR, we head up to our respective blinds to check a series of common murre plots. Using a map of known sites and a pair of binoculars, we scan the plots looking for birds that have laid an egg. It's at task that a times can be quite tedious, particular for sites tucked behind rocks or other birds, which makes it difficult to see their feet. The tedium, however, is occasionaly broken by a sighting of a blue whale just off the island, a surprise visit by a brown booby, or a fly by of a puffin, the islands most decorated bird. The photo above shows a tufted puffin coming in for a landing over a dense colony of common murres, holding nesting material in its bill. 

The Western Gull /  by Michael Johns

Many of the seabirds on the Farallones either breed underground, within rock crevices, or on inaccessible windward sea cliffs, and thus are not often seen during the day to day activities on the island. The one species, however, that dominates both the visible and audible landscape of the island is the Western Gull. These ubiquitous birds essentially nest on every patch of unoccupied space above the high tide line, and they aggressively defend those patches with tenacity. Currently most are still in the process of laying a full clutch of 3 eggs, but when those eggs finally hatch in a few weeks, their temperament will undergo a dramatic transformation. These aren't your typical passive gulls on the beach quietly stalking you french fries. Breeding Western Gulls become so determined to protect their chicks that we have to wear hard hats whenever leaving the house to shield our heads against the areal attacks. 

Stormy-petrels /  by Michael Johns

What makes people on the Farallones stop what they're doing for a field trip to "The Domes" to stare at the ocean? Well anything unusual really. In this particular photo, we are watching a large flock of fork-tailed storm-petrels which were spotted surfing in the breakers just off the intertidal rocks. An unprecedented event first because storm-petrels only approach the island at night and are almost never seen from shore during the day, and second because unlike ashy storm-petrels which breed on the Farallones, fork-tailed storm-petrels breed much further north in British Columbia and Alaska. We occasionally catch the odd fork-tailed during mist netting for ashies at night, but for the most part this northern species is a rare find off central California. We even had some flying into coves just below out feet at one of the island landing sites.

It has been said that storm-petrels are often seen in harbors and close to shore during approaching severe wind fronts, and mariners considered them indicators of fowl weather. This aligns with the 45 knot northwesterlies we've had over this past few days. There have also been reports further south of fort-tailed storm-petrels in Monterey Harbor and thousands more throughout Monterey Bay. 

Breakers In Fisherman's Bay /  by Michael Johns

Twelve species of seabirds and five species of pinnipeds (seals and sea lions) use the exposed granitic outcroppings of the Farallon Islands as a place to breed. During the peak of the summer season, close to 250 thousand seabirds can be found on Southeast Farallon, in burrows, crevices, terraces, and cliffs throughout the island. Part of the reason the Farallones is teaming with marine life are the productive waters that surround the islands; productivity that is driven by strong northwest winds. Spring winds cause deep nutrient-rich water to well up to the sunlit surface waters, sparking massive phytoplankton blooms that support a diverse marine food web. Over the past few days, we've been experiencing those strong northwest winds out here, with sustained speeds of 35 knots and gusts of over 45! While the wind makes it difficult for us to conduct our work, it's essential for providing food for the seabirds we study. The photo of the islets in Fisherman's Bay above shows huge swells and foamy seas wrapping around Sugar Loaf on the right. 

Back to the Farallones /  by Michael Johns

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Every 30 mile boat ride out to the Farallon Islands begins with a crossing under the Golden Gate Bridge. Unless of course you're leaving on a morning socked in with fog, which is not uncommon for coastal California. This will be my third summer season spent on Southeast Farallon Island, and early morning views like this never get old. I plan to post photos and brief stories of the work we do on the Farallones throughout the summer months, so follow this space if you're interested. 

Another Season Ending /  by Michael Johns

It finally happened again. Another winter in Fairbanks has come to pass, which means another aurora season is wrapping up. Last week, a pulse of warm air from the south took a toll on the snow pack here in Interior Alaska. Many of the roads are now ice free, and brown patches of bare dirt are gradually becoming exposed. The break up is upon us. The added solar input from increasingly longer days will soon transform this winter landscape into a sea of fresh green buds. With the arrival of green leaves comes the departure of green clouds, when the midnight sun once again overtakes the aurora in the "night" sky. A lull in auroral activity was suddenly broken yesterday evening by a brief geomagnetic storm (see data below), sparking potentially one of the last displays of northern lights we will see up here until darkness returns again in late August. 

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Ken's Pond and a Visit from Denise /  by Michael Johns

Spring break in Fairbanks means longer days, browner snow, and visitors from the south. This year we had my long-time friend Denise stay with us for a week to experience the best interior Alaska has to offer. Actually, showing her around town made us realize that Fairbanks isn't such a bad place to live after all, although we still have no intentions of staying beyond graduate school. Along with cocktails at Ursa Major, a brief lesson at the curling club, and the Museum of the North, the highlight of Denise's visit was an overnight trip to a public use cabin on Ken's Pond. Conditions were ideal for the five mile trek out, with sunny bluebird skies, a well packed trail, and sweeping views of the Alaska Range to the south. As a bonus on our way to the trailhead, we discovered where all the moose seem congregate during the winter, on a stretch of flat exposed land just south of Delta Junction used by the military as a landing strip. We counted at least 15 moose in one area, with 5 exhibiting herd-like behavior. 

The skies turned cloudy and full of fine snow as the night fell over the cabin, thwarting our plans of viewing the northern lights. Instead, we drank a bottle of champagne each and played Phase 10 in the warmth of a blazing wood-stove; a card game which I have no intentions of ever playing again. The clouds parted at sunrise, allowing for grand views of mountains steeped in a morning glow. The sun fully broke through by mid-morning, when we wrapped up our stay at the cabin with a celebratory sledding session across the frozen pond. 

Spring break always aligns with the timing of the World Ice Art Championships, where folks from all over the US and other countries travel to Fairbanks to create single and multi-block masterpieces. The impressive ice sculptures are accompanied by a playground of colorfully illuminated slides, rides, houses, and this year even a maze, all carved out of ice. 

After several nights with no luck, Denise finally got to see the aurora borealis on one of her last nights in Fairbanks. We drove up to Cleary Summit to get better views to the north, and managed to catch the lights before the rising of a nearly full moon. Not the most spectacular show, but enough to convince her of a second visit to the frozen north to try again. 

Pacific Seabird Group 2017 /  by Michael Johns

The Pacific Seabird Group held its annual conference this past week in Tacoma Washington, tame in comparison to last year's venue on the North Shore of Oahu. Still, it was great to here about all the new and exciting research being carried out on seabirds in the face of a rapidly changing marine environment. Last year I presented preliminary results on the drivers of double brooding in Cassin's auklets, work that was recently published. This year I presented new preliminary results on the movement patterns of Cassin's auklets from Southeast Farallon Island, using archival light sensing tags called geolocators. This information will help inform conservation of this species by answering basic questions of winter habitat use and distribution, thus identifying areas of special importance and favorable conditions. Stay tuned for further results. 

Phil /  by Michael Johns

This is Phil, an Anna's hummingbird that has taken up residence in the backyard of Casey's parent's house in Bellingham Washington. Anna's are the only species of hummingbird that overwinters in the Pacific Northwest, where temperatures can drop to near or below freezing. A feeder refilled every morning with a concentrated sugary brew fuels his daily activities. At night when temperatures begin to fall, Phil goes into a state of torpor, where his internal temperature also drops from 107 to around 48 degrees Fahrenheit. 

Bringing Reef Home /  by Michael Johns

Sunset scattering of Reefer dog at Soberanes Point, Big Sur. From left to right: Denise, Lydia, Renee, Rachel, Reef (in the box), Alex, Casey, Mike, Carl, Louie.

When our dog Reef died a year ago today, Casey and I decided it would be best to scatter his ashes in Big Sur, where he was born and where he spent many days during his younger years on hikes and walks on the beach. This past weekend, a group of my closest friends made the pilgrimage to Monterey Bay to celebrate the life of Reef and share stories of times past. At the edge of a cliff on Soberanes Point, just before the sun dipped below the sea, we toasted Reef with a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, said a few words, cried a bit, and one by one tossed a handful of his ashes into a calm offshore breeze. It was the perfect farewell to a dog who was once a giant figure in all of our lives. 

While in town, we visited all the old sites of our college years; including surfing in Santa Cruz and Hotel Beach in Seaside, an early morning whale watch on the bay, sunset at Moss Landing and Marina State Beach, and walks along the rec trail on the Peninsula. Casey and I met five years ago while I was working for the whale watch and he was finishing his masters at Moss Landing Marine Labs, so the Monterey area is a special place for both of us. In the first few minutes of 2017, while dancing to a bluegrass band in the pub where we had our "first date", I asked Casey to marry me. He of course said yes. We had been talking about getting married for a while now, and the time just felt right. 

The four days we spent on the Monterey Bay were filled with sunny days, striking sunsets, familiar wildlife, and gorgeous scenery. Most importantly it was great to catch up with some of my favorite people, remember the past, and embrace the future.