Jogging on a local beach, I spot a knot of people at the water’s edge. A few feet away, in thigh-high waves, a man in a wetsuit holds a silver fish, wriggling in his hands. It seems unremarkable, until I notice its teeth: row upon row, gleaming white and razor sharp. Out of its element, writhing with all its might, the young shark looks strangely vulnerable. My first— and only—encounter with one of the most formidable predators on the planet makes me wonder: Should we fear them—or fear for them? The answer is both.
Ocean Life
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
For Love of the Beach
The beach is our happy place. In our smallest cells and deepest souls, we feel at home at the water's edge. Perhaps something primal, some echo of our earliest ancestors, stirs within us. A great equalizer, the beach pays no heed to age, gender, education, occupation,...
A Nest to Call Home
The mission: Construct a home for soon-to-be-born offspring.
The rules: Use only scavenged materials. Carry them to the site in your mouth. Employ nothing but your appendages as tools. Ensure shelter from wind, water, and roving bandits.
The seabirds in love introduced in a previous post set to work. As monitors for the Seabird Protection Network on the Northern California coast, we watch and wonder: Where can these parents-to-be, who spend much of the year over open water, find safe haven on our rugged shore?
The Great Beauty of the Tidepool
The giant green anemone may look like a plant, with bright green tentacles that sway in the water. But the great beauty of the tidepool is also a great paradox.
A Seal Mom’s Lullaby
Their sleek, torpedo-shaped bodies dive deep and glide gracefully through the sea. On land they “galumph,” rolling back on their hind flippers then belly-flopping forward. Although harbor seals and other pinnipeds (fin-footed animals, including sea lions and walruses) may seem more at home in water, their distant ancestors once walked the earth.
Like us, harbor seals are warm-blooded, air-breathing mammals with hearts and lungs. The first time I observed a breeding colony, I realized that I have something else in common with females of the species: We are Moms, fiercely devoted to and protective of our children.