Holding a Band-tailed Pigeon

This beautiful February morning dawned with clear blue skies, warm sun filtering through leafless elm branches and a variety of birds chatting at the bird feeder. I took an hour this morning to prune back some shrubs and reconnect with earth and reality. Too many hours have been spent lately sitting at my desk churning out words for the sake of academia.

When Michael and I were done snipping and trimming, the lavatera and the Lady Banks rose were once again contained and no longer trying to engulf the bird feeders. The area was open and sunlight streamed in.

The house finches and mourning doves took advantage of improved sightlines and swarmed the feeders. A large shadow swooped over Michael and he said, “Was that a hawk?”

“No, just a young band-tail.”

The family of band-tailed pigeons were arriving in a second feeding wave. As we went into the house, the five large birds vocally jostled for the four positions at the feeder.

Then suddenly birds exploded out of the yard, flying out over the house. Doves, finches, and band-tailed pigeons fanned out over the neighborhood with a Cooper’s hawk in quick pursuit. The Cooper’s hawk dove. It hit a bird a few feet from the neighbor’s house. There was a loud SMACK. Wings and feathers swirling in struggle. The hawk flew up into a sapling tree. The neighbor come running out of the house. The Cooper’s hawk retreated to the peak of the garage, watching anxiously. Tentatively, it flew up into a nearby tree.

I watched this all from the window. When the neighbor started across the street toward our house, I knew that a Nature Intermediary was needed.

The fleeing prey bird had hit the neighbors window. The hawk and its intended brunch had tussled, right in front of her. The injured prey had momentarily escaped and was cowering in her front yard. What the neighbor didn’t know, was the hawk was sitting just above us in the tree, frustrated. I explained to the startled human what had happened and knelt down to see the same young band-tailed pigeon that had been feasting in the backyard, pressed against the side of the house.

There was blood in its beak, but it was able to fly a short distance. I took off my shirt , covered its head and scooped it up in my hands.

This is the role I play for my neighbors, accessing the damage after a pet dog had grabbed a wild rabbit, cautioning about the timing of trimming a tree because of the red-shouldered hawk nest with hawklets, identifying native plants, and clarifying that the canine loping down the street is not a dog, but a coyote. Now I was pointing at the Cooper’s hawk and explaining that the hawks that circle over our little intersection aren’t someone’s pet birds, they are wild creatures hunting for food.

As I look out at the houses of my immediate neighbors, the reality is, of the twelve adults in these six houses, only four of us grew up here in California–four are foreign born and four are from other parts of the United States. The picture of what California was before our population doubled and tripled, is a memory that resides in fewer and fewer of us all the time. And even many native Californians are removed from the place itself. Few truly notice that the hawk numbers have grown dramatically since the banning of DDT in the 1970s.

I took the stunned, yearling band-tail pigeon, home. I found a quiet, familiar spot in the backyard, near the bird feeder where a half hour before she had stuffed herself with food. She was just starting to get her adult feathers. It was probably a combination of being weighed down with a full crop and molting some of her flight feathers that had made her just a bit more vulnerable than the other members of her family.

There was a lively glint in her eyes and at first I thought my initial assessment had been wrong. Maybe she wasn’t as injured as I suspected. As we sat beneath the elm tree, I contemplated whether she might be able to sit on a tree branch. Then the glint of life fluttered. Breaths became short and shallow. The young flame of life tried to hold on, but quietly it faded. In a quiet, still moment the spark within the gray warm body went out.

I held her until the warmth of her began to cool. This gentle piece of who I am, this calm peace with the earth; no good, no bad, just the cyclical nature of life. If everyone would just slow down, open their hearts and live such a moment, it would make us better members of the biosphere that is the earth.

Life can be difficult, unpredictable and fleeting.

Autumn Has Come

There is something in the air. A crackle of dry leaves, a cool morning breeze. It just happens. The parching hot days where the temperature soars over 110 degrees, disappear overnight. You awake one morning and autumn has come. I know most people in Southern California don't notice the change, but I do.

This is my favorite time of year. Oh, there still may be a few days of high temperature, but the air has a different taste. It brushes your cheek with a gentle stroke. The season has turned and now I start to look for the return of my winter migratory bird friends.

Watching the Kinglet

A white wingbar laces through
Green and golden leaves.
Pointed beak leads fluttering wings
over limb, past a mourning dove
up under a crinkled bough
to dart a gnat.

Pausing for a wingbeat,
The tiny kinglet chitters.
A warning? A scolding?
Then disappears behind a leaf
Weaves up through autumn heavy limbs
Plucks caterpillar from barky twig, then
Tilts his head at me just long enough
To flash a coral crest.

With raucous rant
He skips up out of sight.

The rose nods in silent observance.
The squirrel ponders the flavor of acorn.
Desert tortoise shovels last foot full of dirt
Before settling in for the winter.

Emerald green oxalis shoves
Up between geranium and rock
Attempting to overpower green brethren.
House finches dabble in the bird bath.
Orb weaver spins a spiral death net
Between two delicate stalks,
While her neighbor, funnel spider hides
Waiting for prey to approach her webby lair.

Unwary ant tumbles down the delicate slope
Of a cone-shaped pit and into the jaws of an ant lion.
Slender salamander silently stalks
Earthworm venturing from the safety of soil.
Shy rabbit passes by,

A crimson leaf surrenders to the breeze,
And the Cooper’s hawk swings low
scattering doves and finches.

The world is busy.
Stand in one place and its stories unfold.

The Backyard Biodiversity Project

Summer is rolling across the Southern California landscape. Mornings are cool, but the clouds burn off to a haze by midday.

Like a seedling feeling the sun’s warmth and pushing up to the surface, I feel like June is time to do a little growing. So I’m bursting out of my shell and plunging forward with a project that is near to my heart.

The Backyard Biodiversity Project

For the past couple of years I have kept track of plants and animals over, on, in and under the ground here at Hummingbird Hill in Woodland Hills, California. Some of these records have been detailed, others have been sporadic. For example:

• My record of bird species visiting our yard goes back 7 years. Originally, it was simply noting on a pad which birds I had seen during a month. Now I know which week in May to expect the hooded orioles to return. I know that a year ago today the red-shouldered hawks were just about ready to leave the nest (hawklets). As of May 2007, 64 different avian species have lived at or visited Hummingbird Hill.
• I’ve identified 13 species of spiders, including our colony of trapdoor spiders. (trapdoor spiders)
• We have a breeding population of California slender salamanders. Our only amphibian species.
• We’ve seen three species of lizards, eight species of butterflies and four different species of bees.

We don’t live in the wilds somewhere, we live in suburban Los Angeles. We are close to the Santa Monica Mountains, but only two blocks from one of the busiest freeways in the U.S.

In June, I am going to do what I’ve wanted to do for years. One quadrant at a time, I am going to inventory the plants and creatures on our .75 acre of property. I think the diversity of insects, worms, arthropods, birds, reptiles, and even mammals will surprise you.

Here’s a taste of the creatures I’ve mentioned before:

Creating a Garden that Attracts Wildlife
Urban Wildlife

Insects: Native bees; Trapdoor spiders; Jerusalem cricket; gray bird grasshopper; mourning cloak butterfly; monarch butterflies

Reptiles: western fence lizard; spur-thighed tortoise, Turkey; starred agama lizard, Turkey

Birds: goldfinch; red-shouldered hawk; crows and owls; white-crowned sparrows; Bewick's wren; CA quail; Allen's hummingbirds & babies; bird houses.

Mammals: desert cottontail; mule deer; bats; harbor seals.

Native Plants: frost and CA natives; autumn

Adventures:
Cambria Audio Adventure - elephant seals, Elfin forest (podcast)
Bolsa Chica Wetlands - Part 1
Bolsa Chica Wetlands - Part 2 (podcast)
Solar Eclipse 2006 Turkey

Counting starts tomorrow. Get ready for a June of DISCOVERY.

Beneficial Wild Creatures In Your Garden

When my friend Douglas Welch of A Gardener's Notebook read the post about the benefits of western fence lizards in our garden, he proposed a joint effort on beneficial wild animals you should attract to your garden.

To find out why it’s important to attract this valley carpenter bee to your yard, read my post Beneficial Wild Creatures In Your Garden on A Gardener’s Notebook.

Creating a Garden That Attracts Wildlife

For many people the idea of wild creatures in their garden means rabbits and deer eating plants to the ground while birds and squirrels pilfer the fruit trees. While this can definitely be true, if you create a balanced ecosystem in your yard, the plant eaters will be moderated by the predators.

Get Clean and Green
Before you can think about attracting beneficial wildlife, clean up your act. If you wouldn’t drink it or eat it - Don’t Put It On Your Yard. “But there are aphids on my roses,” you say. Spray and the aphids become resistant, their numbers wax and wane. You continue to spray and take on the mindset of a Four-Star General mired in a losing battle. STOP!

No one wants to eat an insect packed full of insecticide. If the aphids get really bad spray them off with the hose. Aphids are not transportation wizards. Knocked off their home plant, many won’t survive. I noticed a group of aphids starting to flourish on my roses the other day, but so did the bushtits. These small birds, the size of a hummingbird, are voracious insect eaters. They scour my roses every few days and voilá, no aphids. I do nothing but watch. Did this happen all a once, NO. So get started today. Stop with the insecticides and herbicides, no one wants to live in or eat at a toxic waste dump.

When Reestablishing An Ecosystem Start Small
Think of your yard as an island, an oasis. As on all islands, the foundation of an ecosystem is the plants. Go Native with your plantings, like this beautiful Fremontia or flannel bush. You will save water, avoid frost damage and begin to attract the smallest wild voyagers, insects and spiders.

If your first response is “No way, insects mean infestation,” let’s talk. White flies infesting your favorite hibiscus? Japanese fruit beetles on your apricot tree? I have two things to say: nonnative insect on a nonnative plant. Native plants have evolved to defend themselves from native insects. Infestations typically occur on plants that have no natural defenses and with insects that are out of control because they have no predators.

If your response is “Uck I don’t want insects, I want to attract birds and real animals,” Let me give you a moment to rethink. A yard without insects and spiders is a Dead Zone.

Arthropods, the class of animals that includes insects, spiders, millipedes, crustaceans, etc., make up 85% of known living animal species. Their biomass is greater than ALL other animal species combined. That’s right, all the whales, elephants, fish and people in world do not weigh as much as the ants, flies, bees, beetles, spiders and krill. You can not have an ecosystem without them.

Open for Business
Think of your island of habitat as a resort with a reputation to maintain. You need three basics: clean water, safe food and safe living quarters. Water can be as simple as a low dish on the ground rinsed and refilled every other day. Moving water is more visible, but not necessary.

For shelter, provide rock mounds or logs for reptiles. Trees are a must for birds, but shrubs are important too. Many native birds, prefer to nest at a mid-height 5’ - 20’ off the ground. If trees aren’t possible a perch that offers height and a good view will help birds feel safe. (Trees provide roosts for birds of prey also.)

Native plants and insects will provide food. Adding a bird feeder or bird house bumps you up from a four to a “five-star” habitat, but they aren’t necessary. A bird feeder, however, will quickly bring seed-eating birds. Bird activity attracts insect-eating birds. They know the seed-eaters will watch for predators. Besides, it’s like choosing between a restaurant that is busy and one that is empty. Which one would you tend to try first? Fruiting or nectar-producing plants will also add to the variety of your visitors.

Safety is a priority. If you want lizards, amphibians or birds you can’t have an urban tiger, a domestic cat, prowling the grounds. Most dogs have less of a need to hunt and can get along with non-mammalian wildlife. Our dog actually watches the hummingbirds at the feeder.

Like any resort, word of mouth, can make or break you. Stagnant water, poisoned insects or a cat lying in wait by the bird bath can turn visitors away. And they will tell their friends. Here again, when you have a bad experience at a restaurant, you think twice before returning.

Something Furry
This is where a backyard habitat becomes more complicated. Humans have reduced native mammalian predators because of our own fear. These larger predators are frequently our predators. Wolves, bear, mountain lions, heck even bobcats and coyotes scare us. I’ve had a coyote looking in my French doors and one night while I was home alone, I could sense something was watching the house. It was a coyote out front.

A coyote is generally not a threat to humans, but it can be disconcerting to have something fairly large hunting in your backyard. However, without these predators rabbit and deer populations can get out of control. We are just in that foothill zone where we occasionally have a rabbit and it is typically preyed upon by someone’s dog or one of the hawks or owls.

Bats however are mammals you can attract to your garden without worry. As insect predators few birds can match them. To attract bats, open water, like a pond or pool, is a plus. Nocturnal insects often fly over water. A bat box or large trees can provide shelter.

Nonnative brown rats and mice can be a problem. They depend on human castoffs, but rats will also prey on the eggs and young of reptiles and birds.

Raccoons, skunks and introduced opossums can also be a challenge. As occasional visitors, raccoons and skunks are valuable snail and grub predators, but you don’t want to feed them. They will be healthier and live longer as wild creatures. To ensure that you aren’t feeding them or attracting coyotes, feed your pets in the house. Pet food bowls can be very attractive to wildlife.

Saving the World
When you create habitat in your backyard I believe you are helping to save the Earth one small piece at a time. Global warming, species extinction and toxic pollution seem insolvable problems, but look out at your yard, the solution starts RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW. Restore the native habitat in your yard and help save the world.

Western Fence Lizard - Super Hero

Spring doesn’t just warm up the ground for seeds to grow and flowers to bloom. The sun heats the rocks and gravel and invites the lizards to emerge from their winter hiding spots. The most visible lizards in our yard are Western fence lizards (Sceloporus occidentalis). There is a pair in the herb garden and this large individual in the driveway. They seem to prefer elevated basking sites where they can keep an eye on their territory and watch for insects.

The female in the garden frequently jumps up several inches to catch flies. She’s an efficient insect eliminator and fun to watch.




You may know these lizards as “blue-bellies.” Males, especially, have bright patches of blue on their bellies and sometimes at the throat. The fence lizard does push-ups displaying his bright breeding colors to admiring females. The brighter the blue, the healthier and more attractive the male is as a mate.

We haven’t always had lizards in our yard. When we first moved in, garden snails infested the African daisy planted along our front hillside. Blindly, we used the box of “snail bait” poison left behind by the previous homeowners. Did it get rid of the snails? No. It would decrease them for a while, but then they would multiply and return in greater numbers.

When the poison ran out, we tried beer traps, copper strips and a variety of organic methods. After several years of “Earth friendly” snail deterrents, we began to notice there were fewer snails but it wasn’t because of anything we were doing. Something was eating them.

Now that our snails were “clean” and tasty, predators were picking them off. A skunk was crunching them on the porch and alligator lizards (Gerrhonotus multicarinatus) moved in to dine as well.

As we remove the African daisy and replaced it with native plants, we have less and less non-native garden snails. The snails don’t like the thick waxy leaves of the ceanothus or the aromatic taste of sage. But these native plants have attracted native insects.

In May of 2004, we spotted the first western fence lizard in the yard. Since then, there has been at least one batch of youngsters. Rock piles and concrete walls soak up the sun’s rays and create warm stopping places for lizards. The nooks and crannies between the rocks make it easy for a lizard to hide from a hungry red-shouldered hawk.

A place to live and a safe food source were all the lizards needed to move in. Western fence lizards patrol the herb garden, eating a variety of bugs. They warm themselves on the driveway and run up the walls, clinging with their long strong toes.

But these western fence lizards are doing something else for us besides insect patol. You see the western fence lizard is a Super Hero. Not only can they run straight up a wall, they fight disease.

Lyme’s disease has made its way to Southern California from the east coast. But this debilitating illness is less of a threat to humans here than in other places. Why? Because of the western fence lizard. The tick’s that carry Lyme’s disease are small, tiny actually. These ticks will hop on a western fence lizard as easily as a mouse or a person. And here is where the Super Hero comes in: If a tick carrying Lyme’s disease bites a western fence lizard, something in the the lizard’s blood neutralizes the disease. When the tick leaves the western fence lizard it is no longer a carrier of Lyme’s disease.

If you have western fence lizards as neighbors, they are protecting you from potential disease. What other wonders are these lizards capable of? Who knows. Perhaps they carry a natural antibiotic in their blood like Komodo dragons or American alligators that could be beneficial to humans.

For now, I’m happy to watch them basking in the garden. And to inspire them to stay we’ve created a few more rock piles and added some novel resting places. The female fence lizard has moved into a dark-colored, resin gargoyle-shaped drain spout. For a lizard it’s a cool place to live.

Hummingbird Soap Opera

Well, there is no doubt about it. Having the scrub jay frequenting the yard made our little female Allen's hummingbird reevaluate the nest she created on top of her mother's deserted nest from last year. (See the nest)

She stayed away and abandoned the tiny lone egg. When I checked the nest late Tuesday night, there was no mother incubating and the cool temperatures were too much for the egg to survive.

When I checked the nest Wednesday morning, the egg was gone and the side of the nest was slightly torn–probably by a bird larger than a hummingbird sitting on the edge.

Some nests are made in unsuccessful locations. This was the second batch of eggs lost in this one specific nest site.

The fascinating thing to me is this tiny hummingbird with a brain the size of this "O" realized she had made an untimely choice. Rather than fight against brutal odds, she abandoned her hard work rebuilding the nest and the resources committed to the egg. She let it go.

Then she disappeared for three days. Where did she go?

I think she went off to mate again. She's back now and fervently trying to drive off her last batch of youngsters. She's also building a new nest somewhere in the holly cherry shrubs. I haven't spotted it yet. This time she is being very secretive.

Of Mourning Cloaks and Hummingbirds

The more I watch the life dramas that play out in my backyard the more aware I am of how interconnected life is.

Spring has come barreling across the Southern California landscape. Plants that survived the frost leafed out in record time.

The Chinese elm went from leafless to brilliant green in five days. The first hummingbird babies of the season took to the air March 23.

With her first brood of youngsters out of the nest, Alena, a one-year-old Allen’s hummingbird, began renovating a nest her mother, Hummy, built last year. This location, in a downward hanging elm branch, was not successful for her mother. Hummy’s second brood was discovered and eaten by a predator, probably another bird. (See Hummy on original nest)

When Alena chased off a group of bush tits that were eyeing the potential building materials available in this old nest, I thought she was anxious about the activity near her fledglings. I had no idea Alena had decided to build her second nest on top of her mother’s old nest.

If you look at the picture, you can see the cone-shaped bottom of the old nest. The rounded, upper half of the nest is new construction.

Enough with the background.

The real story begins with frass. That’s right, frass, the poop from insect larva. If you’ve ever grown tomatoes and had tomato worms, actually tobacco hornworms (Manduca sexta) you know what large-caterpillar frass can look like–tiny chunks of black charcoal. You may not see a tobacco hornworm or a cabbage looper but the trail of leaf damage and frass will lead a discerning eye right to the munching, pooping source.

Well, there was a lot of frass on the patio under the elm tree. Something was up there munching away on the new green leaves. Something that was numerous and rapidly getting larger.

For the past three years, western scrub jays have been infrequent visitors to our yard. West Nile virus has decimated the scrub jays, mockingbirds and American crows in our neighborhood several times since its arrival. But suddenly Saturday morning, a scrub jay was making a racket as it made it’s way through the trees.

Spiny elm caterpillars, the larva of mourning cloak butterflies (Nymphalis antiopa), were marching down out of the elm tree across our patio and up the walls of the house. Some of them were done eating and pooping and they were looking for a safe place to enter the chrysalis stage of their development. The jay had found a banquet .

While searching for roving caterpillars, the jay stumbled across another delicacy–hummingbird nestlings. From the far side of the yard a second female Allen’s hummingbird frantically voiced alarm calls. The scrub jay had found her nest in the eucalyptus tree. Alena and two other female Allen’s hummingbirds came to their cohorts aid. The foursome buzzed the jay and tried to drive it off, but it was too late. The jay consumed one youngster and flew off with the second. It was probably taking the morsel back to its own offspring.

The next morning, Alena laid an egg in her new nest.

But now the nest that seemed safe is in a dangerous place. Caterpillars continue to march down out of the elm and this morning two scrub jays were on the prowl.

The hummingbird egg sits quietly alone in the nest. Alena is not sitting on it.

Is she staying away so as to not draw attention to the nest? Has she decided to abandon the egg, realizing the nest is not in a safe location?

If the caterpillars hadn’t been so successful and their numbers so great, the jay might not have spent any time in the yard. The hummingbird nests might have been safe all summer. If Alena had made her second nest in a different tree or avoided the location that was probably raided by a jay last year, brooding her second clutch might have been as easy as the first.

Now everything is more complicated.

Life is a delicate dance. The living constantly effect each other. The weather benefits some and challenges others. No action or inaction is without effect.

Cambria Audio Adventure

LISTEN to the PodCast

Over New Year’s, Michael and I visited three wonderful natural sites along California’s central coast.


The Elfin Forest in Los Osos


The elephant seal rookery near Piedras Blancas Lighthouse






Moonstone Beach, Cambria.










To hear the sounds made by the large male elephant seal ...












and the calls between the females and their pups...


Or to hear why it is called Moonstone Beach and why the boardwalk is so important.



LISTEN to the PodCast -
Cambria Audio Adventure

The Central Coast is a great get away for a long weekend. The birding is fantastic and the elephant seals will be in residence through February.

Native Plants Beat the Freeze

Cold weather has destroyed citrus and other agricultural crops across California. Frost damaged plants can be seen in most residential yards. But if you look past the destruction, there is something important to note: the native plants are fine.

When I began to investigate the damage in our yard, I was struck by the resilience of the native plants. Not only had they survived the frosty cold, but some, like the white flowering currant (Ribes indecorum), were blooming and happy.

In this photo you can see the cascading white currant flowers, while the blackened foliage at the bottom of the picture is one of many frost damaged spider plants (Chlorophytum).

On January 13, 2007, Los Angeles recorded its lowest winter temperature. In Woodland Hills, we had several nights between 26 - 30˚F. On the morning of the 13th there was a quarter inch layer of ice across our bird bath. I removed the layer of ice and put it on the ground. Throughout the day, the ice never melted; unheard of in sunny California.

Not only was the disk of ice still on the ground the next morning, the water in the two-inch-deep bird bath was frozen solid. The band-tailed pigeons were walking on their own ice rink, quite mystified.
















Throughout the yard, even in protected areas, exotic species, like the Mexican agave (Agave attenuata), were drooping with frost damage. While only two feet away, the newly planted native Channel Island tree poppy (Dendromecon harfordii) was unscathed.












On the exposed hillside, the California holly or toyon (Heteromeles arbutifolia) thrived, unconcerned with the bitter temperatures.

Even in the more protected front of the house, it was quite obvious that the brilliant green foliage of the “Yankee point” California lilac (Ceanothus gloriosus horizontalis) was unharmed by the frost while the African daisy (Osteospermum fruticosum) turned yellow and wilted.

If creating habitat around your home for native animals isn’t enough of a reason to change your landscaping over to natives, consider the changing weather. Native plants are not only more adapted to the dry hot California summers and require less water, they also are more resilient to freezing cold.

Be water wise, habitat wise and climate wise, plant natives.

The Gift of Trapdoor Spiders

Not every spider builds an aerial masterpiece like Charlotte in “Charlotte’s Web.” Many spiders stay close to the ground and some, like tarantulas and trapdoor spiders, live underground.

Trapdoor spiders are found worldwide, from Africa, Australia, and China, to North and South America. On our hillside in Los Angeles, we are fortunate to have a colony of California trapdoor spiders (Bothriocyrtum califonicum) a native Pacific Coast species. The heavy adobe soil poses a gardening challenge, but creates prime real estate for burrowing spiders. The native clay is structurally strong, while the hillside slope allows rapid runoff of water. This combination has prevented humans from planting exotic landscaping, which in turn has allowed these trapdoor spiders to thrive.

This photo shows the first trapdoor home I discovered in our yard. Though the spider camouflages its door with dirt and debris, the large size of this protective door allowed me to spot the distinctive “D”-shaped covering.

The back edge of the “D” creates the web-constructed hinge, which allows the spider to open it’s door when it detects prey on its doorstep. The spider lifts up the door, grabs the cricket, spider or other unwary arthropod, and pulls in down into its tunnel. Layers of webbing make the eight-inch deep tunnel a cozy home for the California trapdoor spider.

The door also provides protection. From inside, the trapdoor spider can hold the door tightly closed. The precision of the door’s closure makes it almost impossible to open without damaging the door. This was the first time I was able to open this door. Unfortunately, it was because the large adult female spider must have passed away. Female trapdoor spiders are believed to live up to 12 years. I have known this spider to reside in this large tunnel for 13 years.

Trapdoor females are homebodies, preferring to spend their lives in one location. Males may wander past her door, but the female spends her life quietly underground. She is also a good mother, raising her spiderlings in her web-lined tunnel. She protects them and provides them with food for a year until they are large enough to strike out on their own.

All around the hillside matriarch there are tunnels and doors of younger trapdoor spiders. Some are eaten by other predators and their tiny doors have broken off to reveal the narrow tunnel without an owner.

Others are approaching the size of their mother’s tunnel.

Spiders are ancient creatures. The fossil record shows evidence of spiders 350 million years ago, long before dinosaurs or the first mammals. How long has this colony of trapdoor spiders lived on this hillside? Probably, long before humans lived in this valley.

The experts don’t believe the shy and secretive trapdoor spider lives in the built-up city of Los Angeles anymore. But in little fragments of native habitat, these ancient creatures survive. I am in awe of this colony of spiders. I am careful not to plant too many plants on the bare earth they prefer. I knock on human neighbor’s doors when their overwatering threatens to flood the spiders. I try to preserve their plot of hillside so their colony can continue on long after I am gone.

Native wildlife is a treasure, a gift. Big or small, plant or animal, this year make it your mission to preserve and protect.

For great PICTURES of trapdoor spiders, including a mother with her young, visit

www.dbc.uci.edu/~pjbryant/biodiv/spiders/Bothriocyrtum%20californicum.htm