Coast

The Real Birds That Inspired Hitchcock’s Thriller

“Come to the beach—NOW!”

I scan the urgent texts from neighbors and naturalists and bolt out the door. Racing over the dunes, I hear a cacophony of squawks, bleats and cries. Then I see the birds—thousands swirling in great swooping waves, wing to wing, their dark feathers blotting the sun, their sleek bodies wheeling over the sea.

“It looks like something out of Hitchcock,”  an onlooker says.

In fact, a scene like this one occurred not far from the director’s house on the Central Coast a few months before he started shooting The Birds.  On August 18, 1961, masses of crazed birds invaded the town of Capitola, colliding into buildings and smashing onto cars. 

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Summer’s Last Hurrah

Northern California, cool and windy throughout the year, seems no place for Naked Ladies. In late summer, after months without rain, the countryside dons a muted wardrobe of sun-bleached fields and tawny hills. Then, flamboyant pink flowers burst into bloom like brazen hussies dressed for the wrong party.

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Swimming California

This swim is different. At 33, Catherine Breed has won championships, shattered speed records and gained acclaim as an open-water ultramarathoner. Now she is doing what no one ever has: swimming the entire 900-mile California coast, from Oregon to Mexico.

More than a third of the way through her months-long odyssey, Catherine told a crowd of well-wishers in Bodega Bay that her body is holding up “really, really well.” What surprises her more is what she is discovering about the ocean with every swim.

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Fogust

On the  Northern California coast, Fogust is the cruelest month.  After March winds and April showers, we’ve endured May Gray, June Gloom and No-Sky July.  Once again, fog—dense  in the morning, wispy in the afternoon, ghostly at night—has overstayed its welcome. I miss not just the sun, but the stars and the moon and the annual meteor showers I’ve never glimpsed. 

But while I measure summer in sunshine, nature keeps its own calendar.  So in this alleged summer month, I try reframing my dreary thoughts.

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The Sexiest Tenants of the Tide Pool

They are the rock stars of marine invertebrates.  Fabulous and flamboyant, they live fast, reproduce furiously and die young.   But they are also evolutionary marvels:  chemical wizards, crafty thieves, sly poisoners—and the sexiest of intertidal residents.

Beachcombers call them sea slugs. Marine biologists categorize them as nudibranchs (rhymes with swanks and translates as “naked gills”), relatives of snails that shed their shells early in life. While many aquatic creatures rely on camouflage, nudibranchs flaunt eye-popping colors—regal purple, hot pink, electric blue, neon yellow—and exuberant patterns.

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Summer School for Seabirds

There’s a baby boom on the northern California coast.  

Cliffs and offshore rocks that seemed almost lifeless through winter are teeming with seabird families. Through my binoculars, I watch tiny Western Gulls wobbling on spindly pink legs, secretive Pigeon Guillemots ferrying fish into invisible nests, and Common Murres preparing their youngsters for one of the most astonishing leaps in the bird world.

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