Birds and Bicycles

Went for a ride today with another Berkeley guy up Mines Road, a back-country route that runs south of Livermore. As the name implies, it was built as a road from the Livermore Valley to mines (mercury mostly) in the sprawling range of hills to the south. It’s paved all the way through, but after it climbs the side of a high canyon above Los Moches Creek, it’s less than two lanes for more than 10 miles. The country out there has a wild, remote feel to it that sets it apart from the rest of the Bay Area. Live oaks and digger pines. Ranchettes and trailer homes that were off the grid until the last couple of decades. Boars running wild through the hills.

Two amazing bird moments occurred on today’s ride, which was very slow and relaxed (and warm and sunny). The second-most amazing first: As we descended a short and moderately steep hill, a turkey vulture — a hefty bird with about a six-foot wingspan if you’re not familiar with them — swooped down from a tree about 100 feet to the right of the road. My friend David was ahead of me, and the bird headed right for him; I waited for it to veer or soar away from David, but it never did. In fact, it came within a foot or so of hitting him. Then, after we passed, it followed us for 10 or 15 seconds — I was worried that it was going to dive bomb me, too. But it didn’t. I’ve seen vultures close up during rides before, but never anything like this. My guess is that it was nesting near the site we passed and maybe it was defending eggs or chicks (I figure even vultures have to take time out from eating dead stuff to produce a new generation).

That was the No. 2 moment. The most amazing moment happened a little earlier. We had reached the point on the ridge where the road levels out for a while. We were riding pretty casually, when suddenly a big raptor wheeled across the road about 50 yards ahead of us and began gliding straight toward us, about 10 or 12 feet up. I kept waiting to see that it was a red-tailed hawk — by far the most common raptor sighting in these parts — though I could see this bird was pretty big and too dark on its chest and under its wings to be a red-tail. The bird went directly over us, then turned up the ridge and showed its back and the top of its head: a golden eagle. We stopped, and it circled over us two or three times before flying out over the canyon to hunt.

I’ve known for years that golden eagles are out in that area, but until today I never saw one there. I never expected to see one so close that I almost could have reached up and touched it.

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Holiday Weekend Swine Report


Until an hour or two before this picture was taken on Saturday, Rocky was a fun-loving, terrain-uprooting boar enjoying life in the borderlands where Alameda, Santa Clara and Stanislaus counties meet, in the highlands between southern San Francisco Bay and the San Joaquin Valley. Then he met a slug from a high-powered rifle–just guessing both as to gender and to means of demise–passed on to hog heaven and got strapped to a utility box on the back of a Toyota pickup. That’s when I saw him, in the parking lot of The Junction, a roadhouse that caters to some bicycle types like myself and a lot of bikers. I just hope Rocky found a good home and a chef who knows how to make the most of him.

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