Best Day Ever

Today was quite possibly one of the best days of my life, and I wouldn't make such a statement flippantly. It was absolutely magical.

I finally made it over to Ed Levin County Park, in the hills above Milpitas. It is undoubtedly one of my new favorite spots. Maybe even the most favorite spot. Nah, can't have just one favorite.

When I first drove into the park, I was a bit confused because I couldn't see any obvious trails. (And there wasn't a ranger at the entrance booth and the self-pay machine was out of order. So for the second Sunday in a row, I failed to pay my park entrance fee. Not my fault this time!) The park is located on Calaveras Rd, which is actually Calaveras Blvd/237. It was funny to drive past so many strip malls and then suddenly find myself headed uphill on a beautiful country road. Finally, I parked in the equestrian lot (there are stables there- I'd like to go back for horseback riding sometime). I still couldn't figure out where the trail was so I ended up following some other people past the stables and up a hill, where it turned out the Spring Valley trail began. I was pleased to have found this particular trail because I'd been reading about an old pioneer cemetery from the 1800s which is apparently located along this trail. I love old cemeteries and I really wanted to see it.

I never did find the cemetery... that will be a story for another day in the future. What I did find was a serious abundance of wildlife! It was a bird nerd's dream come true. I hiked to the top of a lush, green hill overlooking the valley below. And riding the thermals over my head was a great black turkey vulture. I stood there on the hill for a good ten minutes or so, craning my neck to keep my eyes on that vulture. It circled lower and lower around me until I could see its bald head. It was like having my very own personal vulture! I know some people think they're ugly, but I love vultures. They look truly magnificent, floating on the air currents with their huge black wings outstretched.

In the distance, another vulture circled over a different hill. Higher in the sky, red-tailed hawks (smaller but just as graceful) surveyed the land. I wonder how they can spot small prey on the ground from all the way up there? And higher still, little propeller airplanes buzzed across the sky. On a far hill, a human with a green hang-glider slid smoothly into the green slope. So much to look at in the sky!

Coming down the other side of the hill, I discovered several deer grazing amongst some dry grass. There looked to be two adults and four juveniles in all- I'm not sure if "fawns" would be the correct term for the young 'uns because they looked like they were about halfway grown up already, but still small. The six of them pricked up their ears as I came tiptoeing by. The two adults fixed me with a steady stare. I stared back. They didn't run off; just kept staring at me until I rounded the corner and was out of sight.

Then I was at the bottom of another hill along a creekbed, and that was where things got muddy. I don't mean just a little bit of mud squelching under your shoes here and there- I'm talking about some serious mud. It was thick, and it was sticky, and there was no way around it. I almost lost my shoes a couple of times. My soles were completely caked with it, and after a few steps I also had lots of twigs and leaves stuck to them. My feet felt heavy but I persevered, slooshing slowly through the mud, keeping a lookout for any critters that might be nearby.

The really excellent thing about mud is that it retains animal tracks very well. I saw lots of horseshoe-shaped tracks, the smaller cloven-hooved tracks of deer, and something that looked... feline. This gave me pause.

It was late in the afternoon on a winter's day, and I was standing alone along a creekbed at the bottom of a steep hill covered in dry grass. I looked up at the hilltop, nervously scanning for mountain lions. I'd totally love to see one, but only from afar. I saw a taxidermy of a mountain lion once and was impressed with its size. And its sharp teeth.

No mountain lions in sight. I cautiously continued along my sticky path, keeping an eye out for any more pawprints. After a little while, I looked down at my shoes and saw that they were darn near covered in mud, top and bottom. I was going to be up to my ankles in mud pretty soon. Since it was getting late and my progress was slow, I decided to turn back.

It's entirely possible that I was just spooked after seeing the pawprint, but I swear I could feel some sort of feline energy there in that tall, dry grass. I felt like I was being watched. In my mind, I tried to laugh it off. I tried to reason with myself. What would be the odds of running into a mountain lion out here? I didn't even see any warning signs posted about lions at the entrance.

And that's when I saw it, sitting up straight with a regal air, its tufted face visible above the tall grass. Its eyes were fixed on me, regarding me coolly. Not a mountain lion, but... a bobcat. When I turned to meet its gaze, it quickly hunkered down in the dry grass, almost out of sight. It made no sound, and neither did I.

I continued creeping along the muddy path, trying to look cool and collected, even though my heart was singing, I SAW A BOBCAT! WHEEE! and I wanted to jump up and down for joy. See, I didn't want to look like a dork in front of the bobcat.

But in my heart, whatever had been hurting me so terribly up until that moment was forgotten. I SAW A BOBCAT! I had fully expected that I might go my entire life without glimpsing one of the elusive cats, but today, I saw one. I was absolutely giddy.

As I rounded the corner to climb back up the hill, I saw the six deer still in place, grazing. I wonder if they had any idea that a bobcat was sitting just a few yards below. I've read that in the winter, bobcats will sometimes hunt smaller deer when their usual food sources (rabbits, hares, etc.) are not available.

I made another stop at the top of the hill to watch the vultures again, and as I continued onward, I spotted some sort of small hawk hunting in the open field. It was either a Cooper's or a Sharp-shinned hawk, though I'm still not certain which. I'm guessing from its flight pattern (lots of small, erratic flaps followed by gliding) that it was a sharp-shinned, but I can't be certain.

On my way out onto Calaveras Blvd (with lots of mud still on my shoes), I thought I spotted a rainbow. I was driving directly towards the setting sun and sunlight does affect me strangely, so at first I thought it might be the beginning of a migraine aura. But the rainbow didn't move like an aura would, and when I took off my sunglasses to look again the sun was too bright and I couldn't see it anymore. So I kept the glasses on and admired my own personal rainbow.

During all this rainbow-watching, I wasn't paying very good attention to which lane I was in, and I mistakenly got on 237. I was a little bit annoyed, but I figured, oh, well, I'll get off at the next exit and see where it takes me. The next exit was Zanker Rd. As I pulled up to the stoplight I saw a sign pointing right for the Don Edwards San Francisco Bay National Wildlife Refuge. See, I knew I took a wrong turn for a reason!

I followed the signs past the San Jose waste plant (I could smell the poop even with the windows closed. Seriously) and realized I must be in Alviso. I've heard tales of this mythical place and its marshlands but had never sought it out before. It was really rather strange to drive past a stinky waste plant and then find yourself on an island of sorts in the midst of a sparkling marshland. I didn't have time to explore much because it was getting late and the gate was about to close, but I did get to visit the education center briefly, where I discovered that this refuge is a haven for all sorts of birds, including some that are rare in the Bay Area. I will definitely be back! While I was there, I purchased an owl finger puppet (so cute!) and a copy of Birding at the Bottom of the Bay, a book produced by our local chapter of the Audobon Society about where to find birds in the South Bay. I've been wanting that for a while and was pleased to come across a copy.

I can't believe my good fortune in my adventures today! Everything fell into place just perfectly. And I'm still all excited about that bobcat! Part of me wishes I'd brought a camera along, but I'm glad I didn't. I would have been so caught up in taking pictures that I wouldn't have been able to truly experience that wonderful moment.

Next time: the cemetery, lots of bird photos, and who knows what else? I won't dare to hope for another bobcat!