Yesterday, I participated in a Bio Blitz.
Have you ever done this? My first was years ago, with my insect class at Merritt, and we looked primarily for insects in a particular garden; I think my teacher hosted that one. The Bio Blitz I joined yesterday was through the Save Mount Diablo foundation, in tandem with the California Native Plant Society, and it was specific to a certain area within the Diablo Range. Two years ago, in August of 2020, a lightning strike started an enormous fire called the SCU complex. It burned through nearly 400,000 acres during the 44 days the fire was active, and spanned five counties.
This blitz was held to determine if certain species were recovering, as well as to discover evidence of new species appearing - those that only bloom after a fire. We were given a span of two weeks in which to hike in the affected area and record our observations. Since the area is not easy to get to, I decided to give myself one full morning to ramble about in a specific corner. I went to Round Valley Regional Preserve (on the East side of Mount Diablo; the mountain is at the far north end of the Diablo range), and hiked out into Round Valley itself between Morgan Territory and the Los Vaqueros Reservoir.
I walked about 8 miles through mostly Oak savannah and grassland plant communities; this area is ranched and highly grazed, which means that invasive, non-native plants are dominant. However, I did see some interesting things…
… like Digger bees building their nests. I found a sort of ‘seep’ - amazing in itself, as we’ve been in drought now for months - and this seep was within two embankments about 2-3 feet tall. I sat and watched dozens of these bees get water from the muddy seep, then go back to the embankment and wet it with the water they had collected, in a focused spot. Then they started to dig a tunnel into the softened dirt. There were holes all over the embankment and bees flying in and out. I just sat there and experienced it. The bees were busy and didn’t pay me the least mind.
I also saw…
… a lovely long Pacific gopher snake. These snakes can grow up to 7 feet long, although this one was closer to 4, and it was likely a male out looking for a mate. It was in a sort of shady spot and so it surprised me and I nearly stepped on it. Isn’t he a beauty?
Later, I allowed myself to sit for a while by a large patch of mustard (invasive and non-native, yes, but also a great source of nectar and pollen for insects) and saw all kinds of interesting creatures, but was particularly enamored with …
… this California Hairstreak butterfly. These creatures breed and lay eggs in trees, mating in the tops of them, and gluing clusters of eggs in the bark. They like species of oak and willow, both of which were near this patch of mustard which was near a dry creek bed. This whole area was filled with both blue oak (my favorite) and valley oak trees. I’ve since learned that the population of CA Central Valley hairstreaks is endangered, since the valley oaks themselves are endangered (loss of habitat due to continuing water issues and the constant expansion of farming). It made me happy that I had gotten to see one here, a little farther north.
Near the end of my ramble, I came upon a slope leading up to the higher peaks above the valley. These slopes were nearly devoid of vegetation, and quite rocky. I started turning over rocks to search for scorpions. I found dozens of Sawfinger scorpions; shy creatures who stay out of the sun during the day and hunt at night. These are quite small, not even the size of my thumb, and so skittish that it was hard to get pictures of anything but their tails. They reminded me of children who believe, during games of hide and seek, that if they can’t see you, you can’t see them. But the scorpions’ tails showed me where they were hiding.
A little later, I flipped over a log to search for beetles, and I found…
… this little Sawfinger scorpion, who gave me a great photo op before scurrying away.
I had a truly wonderful hike and a great time documenting everything I saw (by uploading it into iNaturalist). I realized that it isn’t often that I allow myself a good chunk of time just to experience nature. I mean, I hike and walk every day, often a similar distance, but I tend to do it at a much faster pace. I do stop and take occasional pictures (Tom would say it’s more than occasional!) but I’m also out to get it done, and done fast - a good workout with a good heart rate elevation in a short period of time, and then I’m able to get on to the next thing. It’s been a long while since I gave myself permission to saunter and stop and really look at things, or even truly wait for something interesting to happen. I was passed by the occasional trail runner and instantly felt a sense of guilt, or maybe more accurately shame, that I was being passed - I pride myself on walking so fast that no one can pass me unless they’re on a bike. But this time I realized how misplaced that feeling was. There’s absolutely zero shame in taking some time to simply ‘be’ in nature.
And this reminded me of my favorite Mary Oliver poem, which I’ve shared here before, but it bears reprinting because it is simply so great:
“Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”
This last photo just doesn’t translate well - there’s no way it can replicate the sheer beauty of this spot upon which I happened near the end of my hike - consisting of a valley oak tree, the slope beneath it literally carpeted by hundreds of blooming Ithuriel’s Spear bulbs, each one a varied shade of blue or purple, singly majestic but even more breathtaking en masse. Beauty like this deserves our full attention. And so I stopped, once again, and just breathed it in.