A Wild and Busy Morning

Saturday, July 22, 2017   7 am  68 degrees

 I hear what sounds like a foghorn repeated three times as I sit on Fair Oaks Bridge. What is that sound? Where is it coming from?

At Jim’s Bridge a few ducks are swimming and scavenging. I pass them by and ride on to the boat launch ramp where all is quiet.  One woman stands in a boat in the middle of the river channel and casts her fishing line. Birds are calling their morning song, even though I cannot see even one. I hear a chorus of tweets and rattles.  Pigeons roost on Fair Oaks Bridge.

Mallard, American River, Fair Oaks Bridge, river, morning, water, feeding, feedOne Mallard approaches me waiting to receive handfuls of breakfast treats.  As it poses for me and waits for a bite to eat, we  both hear a quack in the distance. The duck raises it neck and listens for the sound. After a few minutes of waiting for me to throw food and discovering, I have none to give, the duck wanders back into the water.

Another day at the river without even a strip of white clouds in the sky. Looking carefully, I see faint wisps of white, as if an artist used a very dry brush on a pale blue canvas. I hear a chicken call from the distance. The calm waters enhance this peaceful scene.  Out of the quiet, a cyclist at high speed races by, rumbling across the bridge deck as he passes.

Half dozen Canada Geese patrol a distant shore. Still no Egrets. No Great Blue Heron. I search for them every time I come and they must have gone elsewhere where food supply is plentiful. No turtles today hanging out on a branch to sunbathe.

I hear a persistent cough coming from an unseen person hiding on the riverbank directly under the bridge. I have heard these coughs several times during morning visits to the bridge and rarely see the source.

woodpecker,American river,The sun is high in the sky. The morning temperature is still cool. I ride west on the American River Parkway to  my usual morning stopping point – a picnic bench on a bluff overlooking sandbars on the river.  No waterfowl there. No cyclists on the bike trail yet.

woodpeckers, American River Parkway, home, treeOn my ride home I look for the tall and long dead tree where woodpecker families call home. I see a family of four  flying from one branch to another, sitting, drumming, joining others, flying off again, sitting in a line. I focus in for a photo and they fly away again.