A Wild Parrot of The City of Roses

There's an organization based in eastern San Diego County called SoCal Parrot that rescues, rehabilitates, and releases wild parrots that are down on their luck.

And quite often, it happens in Pasadena—where hundreds of exotic birds have gone feral, though their ancestors were likely domesticated (and somehow got out).

The problem with a San Diego-based organization rescuing injured and displaced birds in Pasadena is, quite simply, the drive. There's just too much traffic and too many birds reported too many times to keep shuttling back and forth. the entire way.

So, being just 20 minutes away from Pasadena yesterday, I found myself volunteering to relay a wayward male parrot (probably an Amazona autumnalis) from a shelter to a meeting point in Riverside County, where I'd hand him off in his little cardboard carrier to the next person in the relay, who'd bring him the rest of the way to the town of Jamul.

Now, I know that this little guy is a wild animal and is only habituated to humans from afar. I know that he wouldn't make a good pet and that if that cardboard box weren't between us, he'd likely bite and scratch me.

But I couldn't help getting a little attached to him during our two-hour drive together.

He watched me through one of the air holes in the box as I sang to the radio and intermittently told him he was going to be OK. He didn't fight. He didn't squawk. He played a little with the small towel that the shelter had placed in there with him for comfort; and, at one point, I could see him perching upside down inside the box, his claws and beak making the rounds from the various holes on the top and the sides.

Before I'd picked him up, I'd been regretting signing up for the task. I hadn't slept well. I'd already had a full day and already had encountered a number of closed lanes, car accidents, and other freeway slowdowns; so, the last thing I wanted was to spend another (potentially) four hours behind the wheel.

And it wasn't an emergency, per se. His condition was stable. He'd eaten some fruit earlier in the day, and he'd been perching. He just wasn't flying.

But, more importantly, he was lost. He'd been separated from his flock. And he was going to need some help.

The key for me was keeping him wild. He's not going to be kept as a pet, and—if he gets flying again—he's not going to get stuck inside some "forever home" sanctuary where he'll pick himself bald.

If and when he's well enough, he'll get a new family of other rescued and rehabilitated parrots of the same or similar species and around the same age.

Then, that group will get released into an existing flock in the wild.

Hopefully, the new flock won't reject them.

Related Posts:
Photo Essay: An Orphanage for Contraband Pets
A Safe Place, Far from Home
To the Rescue

Photo Essay: The Creatures That Conquered the Desert

I'd seen some dinosaurs and other rusted metal sculptures out in the middle of nowhere in Anza-Borrego when I first visited back in 2009, but I didn't take particular note of them. They just seemed like they belonged in the desert.



But then I met their artist, Ricardo Breceda, when I visited his studio a couple of years ago—and after that, I started seeing his monumental wildlife all over Southern California.



So, it's been tough to forget that there were a bunch more of them that I'd missed out on, having given them only a passing glance in the fleeting moments of me passing by in my car.



But my recent trip back to Anza-Borrego to report on the wildflower "superbloom" was the perfect opportunity to make up for the missed opportunity...

...and to kill two birds with one stone by spotting blooms and beasts, all together in one place.



Seeing these wild animals all clustered together at the studio is one thing...



...but it's an entirely different thing to see them in situ.

The landscape behind them desaturates...



...as they jump out into the foreground...

...like some creature from some black lagoon...



...or some monster from some lake.



Since they first started appearing in 2008, they've seamlessly made the desert their home...



...rising up from some underworld beneath the sand...



...ready to lash out at this new world that greets them.



The sheet metal sculptures in this wild animal kingdom are supposedly based on what's been discovered in the longest continuous fossil record in North America, right here in Anza-Borrego.



If anything like these creatures actually roamed above ground here once...

Screenshot of "The Monster That Challenged the World" from DVDTalk

...who knows what long-buried monstrosities a little seismic activity could open the door for?!

Related Posts:
Photo Essay: A Metal Menagerie of Wild Animals
Photo Essay: A Treasure Trove of Roadside Dinosaurs
Photo Essay: The Living Ghost of Yermo
Photo Essay: A Roadside Cactus Ranch in Reseda

Photo Essay: The Healing Powers of Highland Springs

If you happened to find yourself at the Highland Springs Ranch & Inn in Cherry Valley, CA (about 30 miles east of the City of Riverside, in Riverside County), it probably would be for one of three things: olives, lavender, or sheep.

Or, if you're lucky, you can experience all three at once.

The town of Cherry Valley is still incredibly rural, considering its proximity to the 10 Freeway. But its history of cherry-picking (reportedly the first to debut the popular "U-Pick" during a shortage of farmhands) has given way to these new crops (and to the apples that send people through Cherry Valley on their way north to Oak Glen).

Photo Essay: Where Airplanes Go To Rest (Updated for 2023)

[Last updated 3/26/23 9:18 PM PT—New photos added at bottom of post]

It seems like nearly everyone in the town of Mojave, CA has been trying to get out, from when it was first used as part of the construction of the Southern Pacific Railroad to the subsequent transport of borax and the construction of the LA Aqueduct.

These days, maybe they're just passing through on their way across Highway 58 to Bakersfield, or up Highway 14 to the Eastern Sierras and Death Valley.

Maybe they're testing experimental aircraft to be flown to far-off lands. (A couple of pilots did successfully circumnavigate the globe in the Voyager aircraft—taking off from and landing at nearby Edwards Air Force Base, without stopping to refuel—in 1986.)



Or, most recently, they could be trying to use Mojave as a launching pad into space. The Mojave Airport was, after all, renamed the "Air and Space Port" in honor of Space Ship One and Virgin Galactic.

Springing Forward in Search of Wildflowers

What better way to commemorate the start of Daylight Savings Time (a.k.a. "Spring Forward") than searching for wildflowers?

We knew that there was already a "superbloom" happening in the desert lands to the east and to the south (more on that later), but we were a lot closer to the arid expanse of the Mojave to the north.

So, we started by driving up San Francisquito Canyon Road to the area of Elizabeth Lake and Lake Hughes—but this year, unlike back in 2014, there were no poppies and no lupine to be seen for miles.



As we headed closer to Lancaster, we could see some orange pops of color on the distant mountaintops...



....and the occasional outcropping along the side of the road.



If nothing else, Southern California is greener now that I've ever seen it.



And this is really just the beginning of wildflower season...



...the buds in the Antelope Valley taking a little bit longer to open than those in hotter climes farther inland.



But still, what had appeared by last weekend was enough to draw people out of their cars...



...and collect on the side of the road...



...in a place they might not ever find themselves otherwise...



...chatting with people they might not otherwise ever meet.



As we continued our journey north, we found ourselves turning off any random side road just to see if we could find something...



...which we did at the southern end of Mojave, CA near the site of Holliday Rock.



It looked promising, but we were just too early. You have to time these things just right.



Fortunately, there's one thing that the California desert can reliably deliver any time of year: ramshackle homesteads off the side of the road.



They may be predictable, but they never cease to delight.

Related Posts:
Photo Essay: Poppies Peaking in Antelope Valley
Photo Essay: An Explosion of Wildflowers in the Antelope Valley
Spring Forward

Photo Essay: Wine Dinner in the Garden

I remember accidentally driving down this driveway a few years ago.



I was looking for the Malibu Family Wines tasting room, and this clearly wasn't the way.



But a couple of weekends ago, I found myself proceeding with purpose—past the water buffalo—to dine al fresco at the newly-christened garden of the Semler family's Saddlerock Ranch.



There was, of course, plenty of estate wine to drink...



...and citrus blossoms to sniff...



...and seats to choose from...



...as we waited for our dinner to make it from the farm to our tables.



The main attraction here is the Saddle Rock Garden, planted upon a mound of dirt unearthed to create the adjacent man-made pond.



The first thing you see are the flowers, certain wild and native species (like lupine) that are meant to attract bees...



...as well as a certain parasitic wasp that leaves people alone but devours invasive, non-beneficial bugs.



The garden is still in its early stages, though it's got a hearty harvest of dinosaur kale and some other winter greens...



...as well as root vegetables like daikon radish...



...whose edible blossoms taste like radish...



...and carrots that are so sweet...



...you can eat them right after you pull them out of the ground.



The rustic atmosphere reminded me of the locovore scene that's happening in Baja wine country in Mexico...



...where you get to watch your food being prepared...



...among the vines that will eventually produce the varietals you're drinking.



It was a place and a time to share a table... split a bottle... and pass a plate to the stranger across from you or next to you, clinking glasses as the sun set behind the Santa Monica Mountains, darkening Potato Rock and the Airstream trailer that had reflected so much of the Magic Hour light just moments before.

Related Posts:
Photo Essay: Wild Wine Safari
Photo Essay: Malibu Wine Safari, On Foot
Photo Essay: Rosenthal Malibu Estate Vineyard Tour
Photo Essay: The Terroir of Baja Wine Country