Mornings on Fair Oaks Bridge Archives - Page 8 of 21

River in Shadow

August 21, 2017August 21, 2017

Tuesday August 8, 2017 745 pm 90 degrees

The air feels like the end of a warm day – and it is!

Chickens are calling to each other from the Fair Oaks Village. Some hide in trees. Others patrol the streets and Village Park. A few visitors come to walk on Fair Oaks Bridge. A few stop to admire the view. A boater lifts his boat out of the water, ready to leave the river. As I walk on the bridge, six Canada Geese fly swiftly overhead in their traditional “V” formation. A salmon (presumably) leaps up and out of the water three times. I see only a splash in place of the creature that created the effect.

American River, Fair Oaks Bridge, evening, shadows, twilight, water reflection — Shadows on the American River at twilight

As the sky darkens with the sunset, no sunlight casts glare down in the water. The river sits in shadows and its colors change to a rich, deep green – similar to that of deep green trees. Since the river is in full shadow, this color is not reflective of trees lining the riverbank.

Common in the evening, I see drunken young men and women staggering across the bridge. Today a very loud and rowdy skateboarder crossed the bridge several times uttering language that only the most rowdy care enjoying hearing it.

Trees hang on to the riverbank exposing their roots

Water is still tonight. The darkening sky is now tinged with a hazy, gray stripe stretching across the horizon. I watch four silent ducks swim and disappear under the bridge. Minutes later they have turned around and swimming back from where they came. A cool, gentle breeze blows against my face. The air is cooling off after the sun drops below the horizon. Sky is still void of cloud cover. In the deepening shadows of a long evening turning to dark night, I can see a long gray layer hanging over Sacramento to the west.

I am fascinated by trees with their tangled roots fully exposed on the riverbank, still clinging to fragments of soil as they continue to flourish.

The only sound I hear is the wind. Not a bird in the sky. My evening calm is rudely interrupted by the sounds of revving a distant car engine. Then I look out into the water and it is hard to tell. Is it the head of a river otter swimming by? Too small to be a duck. Salmon do not swim with their heads above water. Distant quacks sound in the warm evening air.

More people arrive, watching slowly and silently. As the sky darkens, the water loses it color and trans darker on the west side of the Fair Oaks Bridge. On the east side, the sun still reflects light, casting long shadows of trees along the shore.

boat, American River, twilight, fishing — Fishing at twilight on the American River at Fair Oaks Bridge

One last boater is in the water. Lights on and equipment ready. Two twinkling lights let people know he is still there. The air still warm. Now almost too dark to see any shapes in the water. Everything is slowly changing to shadows. I walk back to my car while there is still some daylight.

Peaceful Morning

August 26, 2017August 26, 2017

Thursday August 10, 2017 715 am 68 degrees

Arrived at Jim’s Bridge by bike – no waterfowl. The water glistens, yet feels empty.

My next stop is the boat launch ramp where I see a dozen Mallards on patrol searching for breakfast on the ramp. They look up and see me and begin to walk toward me. Since I don’t make any throwing motions with food in my hand, they turn around and retreat back down the ramp into the water.

A solo fishing boat carries two people, waiting. The river is especially beautiful this morning. Many weeks since I saw the water shimmer with various shades of greens and gold, reflecting the trees and the sunlight.

Ahhh! The magic of morning.

Six pigeons fly to their place on the Fair Oaks Bridge frame. The air is chilled. A gentle and cool breeze blows against my skin. When I left this morning, my arms were chilled and the car windshield was moist. I have noticed that sunrise is much closer to 6 am than 5, as it was for so many weeks during the summer.

I missed many evening bike rides because of so many 105 degree days that did not cool enough in the evening to make it possible for me to enjoy the long hours of daylight.

No clouds in the sky. A pale white moon hangs in the pale, western sky tinged with gray. Pigeons feast on remains of a biscuit left on the bridge. At the slightest movement or sound, they flap their wings unison and fly away and return a minute later to continue their meal. Off again and back until they have eaten every crumb they can find.

200 yards to the east, a single fisherman stands at the river’s edge waiting. Canada Geese have yet to arrive. They tend to be the late sleepers and the grumpiest when it comes to getting their share of breakfast. Ducks went back into hiding. Where are the otter? The turtles? P

For now, the American River is a quiet place.

In little more than a month, salmon will begin their arrival and fishing boats will multiply by at least five. The river will be standing room only for fisherman standing hip deep in water. I hope seagulls return to feast on the salmon. Maybe the Egret and the Great Blue Heron will return. Salmon provides food for many wildlife here.

I miss the Egrets and Great Blue Heron.

What a delight to see them fly in, walking gingerly at the shoreline looking food and do their best to avoid each other! Not since the flood. They have moved somewhere else along the American River.

What of the snowmelt from the Sierra? When will it come? And how much, how fast? I wonder how the American River will be challenged this fall. Too soon to think of another winter. Standing on the Fair Oaks Bridge, a few runners pass, an occasional cyclist. Today is a slow and peaceful morning on the river. The hum of traffic on Sunrise Blvd. bridge is all I hear.

Riding to the San Juan Rapids overlook I see the water level has receded so the sandbars are visible, and the rapids mild. No rafters come by on this early weekday. No waterfowl are spending a leisurely morning on the sandbar. The Cormorant I spotted several times before is absent – as are all the wildlife of the river.

I return to Jim’s Bridge on my ride home and see two women feeding dozens of resident geese and ducks. With very quacks or honks, they quickly gobbled up the seeds, still scavenging long after the women had left. The feeding time, as always, is filled with scratch, hiss, race, waddle, and wait.

Fair Oaks Bridge and Jim’s Bridge sit less than a mile apart to provide access to the American River Parkway. Both are quiet hideaways to escape the rush of the city and enjoy the peacefulness of the river.

Rocky Remnants of a Fisherman’s Island

August 26, 2017August 26, 2017

Friday, August 11, 2017 845 am 68 degrees

Six Canada Geese greet me with a chorus of characteristic honks as I arrive at Jim’s Bridge by bike.

squirrel, American River, American River Parkway, trees, Fair Oaks Bridge, mornings — Searching for breakfast

They join a dozen other ducks already scouting breakfast on the rocky shoreline. True to their nature the geese are late arrivals for the morning ritual. Squirrels are busy finding their breakfast in the trees.

American River, rocks, marker, Fair Oaks Bridge, monrings — Other ways to mark a place at the American River.

During a quick trip to the boat launch ramp, I see no waterfowl anywhere. No fishing boats sitting in the American River. Today I continue my ride east toward the Nimbus Fish Hatchery. This is the prime salmon spawning area come late September through early December. I used to see a dozen ducks bobbing in shallow rapids for food as I ride by. None today.

cormorant, American river, Fair Oaks Bridge, monrings, wings — Sitting on the rocky remnants of the fisherman’s island in the center of the American River corridor.

I arrive at the picnic area at the river’s edge, far off the bike trail, where last fall I saw 100 seagulls feasting on dead salmon. The small island located in the middle of the river channel that was big enough for fisherman to anchor their boats and stand alongside them in hip deep water is now two thin and barely visible stretches of rocks.

I spy a cormorant sitting on a rocky island hanging its wings to dry in the early morning air. It stands motionless for 10 minutes before flying away. I see ducks hide alongside green shrubbery of a nearby island jutting out from the western riverbank.

Except for an occasional distant quack from a lone duck, this area is quiet today. Here I am far away from homes hanging on the Fair Oaks Bluffs, traffic and people congregating on shorelines. I hear a distant hum from another roadway bridge alongside the fish hatchery, less than a mile and completely out of sight.

With no homes on the opposite shore, I see a mix of oaks, shrubs and grasslands. I could say they are in a natural and undisturbed state. Little along the river channel was left untouched during winter floods. Remnants are still visible everywhere along the river.

underwater tree, American River, debris — Remains of trees swept and underwater during winter flooding. These rest alongside the shoreline in shallow water.

sign underwater, American River, flood, debris — A fallen sign loosened during the winter flooding rests in shallow water near the shoreline.

Day of the Eclipse

August 30, 2017August 30, 2017

August 21, 2017 1015 am 72 degrees

When I looked through a telescope at a local science museum at 915 am…

The moon appeared as a bite out of the lower left hand part of the sun at the early stage of 915 am. By the time I reached Fair Oaks Bridge at 1015 am and looked again through a pair of borrowed safety glasses, the sun looked like a sliver – a crescent moon shape. Sacramento’s eclipse reached 77 percent maximum coverage at 1020 am.

A dozen people gathered outside their offices on Bridge Street. Another dozen people stood on the bridge, watching the sky. At least as many people gathered on the edge of the Fair Oaks Bluffs hundreds of feet above the American River. – a popular destination for panoramic view of the river and nearby community.

River photos of the during the eclipse may illustrate the odd lighting. This was an event you had to be there to get the impact. I also caught a photo of a very speedy duck. It was swimming nearly as fast as the boat that was following close behind.

Fair Oaks Bluffs, American River, Fair Oaks, cliff, eclipse — Tree hugs the cliff of Fair Oaks Bluffs

When the moon passed over the sun, the river was visibly brighter. People stored away their dark glasses and began walking off the bridge. Cyclists started arriving and passing by. Soon the bridge was empty and office workers went back to their desks. Visitors on the bluffs stayed to see the view.

My excitement over seeing the “cool” eclipse was mixed with wonder and sadness – the anticipation of seeing the sun as a sliver and the shock of learning of a tragic fall all at the same time.

I arrived on Bridge Street to see two fire engines – one a special operations unit – idling on the street. There was another fire engine in the parking area alongside the boat launch ramp. When I asked, “What happened? Why are these fire trucks here?” I was told a spectator on the bluffs fell off the cliff. Firemen picked up the person in a boat.

Chickens Greet the Day

September 2, 2017December 8, 2017

Wednesday, August 23, 2017 630 am 65 degrees

Fair Oaks Village, chickens, roosters, sing, symphony, morning, Fair Oaks Bridge, American River — Good morning Fair Oaks!

The chickens are singing loudly this morning! Their symphony carries on and on from one tree to another – everyone hiding and singing. This pair took their turns listening and singing.

Two early morning hikers slid down the steep trail from the Fair Oaks Bluffs nearly falling on top of the surprised and annoyed rabbit in the photo. The rabbit scampers to this safer spot away from the trail and near a bush.

Those falling hikers were a rude start to my morning!

I arrive at Fair Oaks Bridge to cloudless sky with a faint smoky haze surrounding the rising glowing, yellow sun. Morning temperatures still feel cool. No breeze blows. The air is still. Last night the air was so filled with smoke, I shut all windows and doors. Today all traces of smoky scent are gone.

That mysterious foghorn sounds again this morning.

Four chickens scratch and peep on the opposite side of the road. Scratch. Scratch. Looking for breakfast. They walk away after a thorough search. No ducks emerge from the riverbank for their early morning swim. Pigeons are still in hiding. One flies in to rest on the bridge. Fishermen sit in their boats sit and wait. Some roam to the opposite side of the bridge for a better position.

I feel the sun heating up the air as the sun rises higher over the trees. The air feels heavy already. A few individual walkers and a lone cyclist are out. The water reflects the clusters of trees that cling to the shoreline as a mirror.

Today the only sound is the persistent traffic hum from Sunrise Blvd bridge and an occasional twitter from an unseen bird. I remember the single small bird that used to land on the overhead frame of the bridge last fall. It sang its good morning song each day I visit the bridge. I have yet to see or hear it.

A group of four ducks swim under the bridge. A second straight line of four ducks swim by. One sounds a morning call, “Quack…Quack…Quack.” No pigeons in sight. They have left white droppings on both sides of the bridge deck as reminders of their long residence here. Very slowly, the wildlife residents nearby Fair Oaks Bridge welcome the new day as the sun rises over distant trees.

In the Moment of Sunrise

September 3, 2017September 3, 2017

Sunday August 27, 2017, 72 degrees, 615 am

From my front porch, I see a flaming glow of sunrise filtered by heavy cloud cover.

fire in the sky, Fair Oaks Bridge, American River, morning, sunrise, writing, photo, nature, fisherman, boat, clouds — Clouds begin to spread as the sun rises. A lone fisherman watches and waits.

At 610 am, I force myself out the door to catch the early morning sights on Fair Oaks Bridge. Far too warm this morning! A breeze blows on my warming skin. The morning chicken symphony is long and loud, hiding in unseen trees. I am surprised by a loud call from a tree branch directly above my head as I open my car door to get out. A large white chicken is greeting the new day.

One duck squawks when I arrive at the bridge. Have not seen Canada Geese in many days. They may be wandering around the riverbank at Jim’s Bridge for their morning meal. Jim’s bridge is closed until September 1 to replace the broken fence from our winter flood, so I have not ridden my bike there to check the morning activity.

Why Do Pigeons Circle the Bridge Before Landing?

A dozen pigeons circle Fair Oaks Bridge several times and land on the overhead frame to rest. I still wonder if their flying in circles warms the air or their bodies before sitting down on a cold bridge to rest?

I need to research this. Some don’t rest for long, they are up and flying about. At the faintest of movements, they rise up as a group in a flutter of feathers and fly away and return to circle again minutes later.

Another boater arrives to join the one already in the water. The owner eases it down the boat launch ramp and cruises to a prime fishing spot.

I watch a pair of ducks lazily floating under Fair Oaks Bridge. They look around and float with the current, with no effort. Another pair floats the opposite direction. One pair must be paddling, since the current flows in one direction.

The sun’s rays are glowing through the heavy cloud cover. Three boats sit still in the river and two fishermen stand out in the river corridor in this quiet river waiting for their catch of the day to emerge. The sun rises. The breeze blows softly. By the time I leave the bridge at 715, I can feel the morning air heating up and feeling heavy. Checking the temperature, it is 81 degrees.

In the Moment of Morning

September 3, 2017September 3, 2017

Sunday, August 27, 2017 615 am

Who is Paying Attention and Who is Passing Through?

sunrise, morning, cross, attention, observation, Fair Oaks Bridge — Being in the moment of sunrise or passing through?

Seeing so many walkers and cyclists cross the bridge everyday, I find myself wondering why so few people ever stop to see the activity happening on the bridge. I have seen a lot of sleepy walkers cross the bridge. Very few people ever stop to watch activity from the bridge in the morning. Afternoon visitors are far more like to wander, watch and stop, if at all.

I believe the act of walking or cycling is far more interesting if it includes paying attention to what is happening where you are. When crossing the bridge, I wonder who is making a choice to “be where you are” or “be diverted with conversation or random thoughts until you are where you are going?”

Cyclists arrive by 630 am on any given day. Most of them race by at top speed as if this were their personal raceway, inattentive that anyone else uses the bridge. They look straight ahead, neither to the left or the right.Appears they are also focused on passing through – that the destination or a resting spot when they can ride no further is the only place where they will notice?

Music of the Morning

September 17, 2017September 17, 2017

Sunday, September 3, 2017, 620 am 74 degrees

Chickens are singing their morning songs in harmony today.

Each chicken is still hidden away for the night in tree branches and crowing without end. The two chickens pictured believe they are still hiding. The morning sunrise is barely visible behind clouds. A cool breeze blows on me – it feels like the air is already too warm for so early in the morning.

Three cyclists rumble past me on Fair Oaks Bridge as fast as they can move. I see one turn his head to the left and looks to the American River. The others are focused straight ahead.

Five boats sit in the river and another boater arrives on the boat launch ramp. This one plays music far too loud. Far too early for me to hear music – especially when I watching for wildlife and listening to their morning calls. I hear John Denver singing “Born a County Man,” from the boat ramp more than 100 yards away.

I watch as the burning pink sunrise spreads across the sky and changes colors, reflecting on thick white, puffy clouds. Thirty pigeons land on the bridge all at once. Where are the ducks today? Where are the geese? Everyone is out of sight. I hear some distant quacks. They could be 100 yards away or more.

The hot orange sun rises above the trees – Another HOT day. At 710 am, morning temperature is already 82 degrees.

What Sounds Go Unheard?

September 17, 2017September 17, 2017

September 8, 2017, 635 am 64 degrees

Mist covers my car windshield. I wonder if this morning chill will continue in mornings to come.

My mornings of wearing shorts, a t-shirt and sandals are certainly to become less frequent. Chickens that provide daily wake up calls in Fair Oaks Village are still slumbering. I see three cars as I walk through the village streets. Hot Yoga parking lot is double stacked with cars – located on the street about 100 steps from Fair Oaks Bridge.

chickens, morning, sounds, greet, Fair Oaks Bridge, American River — Okay, take the photo so I can finish crossing the street.

Today is a cloudy morning. By the time I wake up, any color in the sky from the sunrise has vanished. A trio of chickens wake up and stand in the street on the way to the bridge. Only one greets me with a good morning crow. The others are far too busy scratching the dirt to find breakfast. On my walk to Fair Oaks Bridge, one small chicken is raising a panic. Instead of crowing to greet the day, this chicken sounds more like it is complaining over and over again.

What other sounds does the morning air hold that I am not hearing?

American River, Fair Oaks Bridge, water, sounds, erosion, fisherman, river, morning, salmon — Fisherman sit beneath the Fair Oaks Bluffs and alongside trees uprooted during flooding early this year.

Three boats sit a few yards away on the east side of the bridge. The fishermen wait. Everyone prefers the east side. They are so intensely committed to catching fish, they arrive before dawn and wait for hours. I often see men in each boat talk to each other, swapping stories of who caught what and where, what bait they use and other conversation as they wait. Two more boats sit 100 yards farther east.

For a moment, the same tiny bird that greeted me each morning last fall with “too, too” returned to its post at the top of the bridge. Not intending to stay for long, it took a look around and flew away. The glowing yellow sun emerges in the eastern sky over the heads of trees lining the American River No waterfowl are out yet this morning. Not even one. As I sit and listen in the still air, I hear a distant call of a Canada Goose, and then a quack and then silence. I wonder how far away are the geese?

After nearly a year of observation, I have a baseline of observing what happened each month. Yet, as the fifth year of drought concluded with heavy rain and flooding, I wonder what is usual and customary on the river? How will activity on the river change this coming fall? Will the waterfowl return? How many salmon will come? Will other wildlife return to feed on the salmon as they did last fall?

American River, trees, erosion, ducks, morning, Fair Oaks Bridge — One of several trees with exposed roots clinging to eroded riverbank.

chicken, ducks, erosion, morning, Fair Oaks Bridge — Scavenging the shallow water to find breakfast

Four ducks emerges from their evening hiding places and swim under the bridge heading west. They swim past fallen trees laying on the river bottom visible in the clear, shallow water. They pass trees with exposed roots along the eroded riverbank. These prominent features are a few of many ways flooding and erosion over time has shaped and scarred the integrity of this river channel.

The fisherman continue to sit and wait and I see nothing jumping in the water. The water is as still as it can be in this flat section of the American River. Birds are twittering unseen. I do my regular spider web check and see no evidence. I look for the fallen tree that was once an ideal sunbathing spot for turtles. It has fallen farther into the river. Where have the turtles gone? Another visitor to Fair Oaks Bridge remarked there were a dozen turtles or more. I saw only two. Now they have moved somewhere else.

Reflections on Wildlife

September 18, 2017September 18, 2017

Sunday September 10, 2017, 630 am 68 degrees

From my front porch, I watch the orange glow of sunrise above towering trees and behind scattered clouds.

A tiny bird greeted me this morning, with ‘Ti Too.”

I ride to Jim’s Bridge hoping to see a crowd of Canada Geese and ducks engaged in morning rituals and scavenging for breakfast. They hang out on the south side of the riverbank first. Often women come to feed them seeds. When alone, they poke at the rocky shore and swim in shallow water, looking for worms, insects and other morning nibbles.

So few waterfowl are swimming near the Fair Oaks Bridge and nearby boat launch ramp. It is disappointing to visit the bridge and see only boaters. The river today is home to no life beyond that. I remember the Egrets that sat on the north riverbank each morning and the Great Blue Heron that came for an occasional visit. I remember the Egret flying farther east to avoid the Heron as it arrived. I think back to when the Canada Geese and the Mallards fight over food and fight among themselves. Geese hiss and bite. Mallards quack and complain, then chase away who they don’t like.

I arrive at Jim’s Bridge and all the waterfowl are here! The abandoned Pekin duck has joined the Mallard families. Quack! Quack! Quack! The ducks are quietly waking up, swimming, cleaning, quietly poking their head into the water searching for a morning meal. Occasionally one duck will rant, Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack! and no one pays attention. The geese and the ducks are expecting a morning handout.

Mallards are so unlike chickens that call out to each other all day long, and call when no one is there to hear. When I hear ducks voice their opinions, no others respond.

In a moment, three ducks rise and fly quietly to the opposite shore. They are too far away and too fast to photograph. Watching them gives me a chance to take a big breath in, feel the chill on my skin. I look up in time to see 20 birds sitting on power lines above the Sunrise Blvd. bridge.

Temperatures are getting warmer already. I ride on to Fair Oaks Bridge. The parking lot for the boat launch ramp is filled with pickup trucks and utility vehicles equipped to tow their boats. I count seven boats in the river, all on the east side of the bridge. I see nearly as many fishermen on the American River as there are ducks.

A mother duck leaders the way for her two young ducks. They casually swim by boats, leaning trees and those uprooted and fallen into the river. They pause their morning a few moments before moving on. So many birds twitter, unseen. So many times, I see feathers on the ground. I pick them up and wonder how did the birds or the chickens or even an owl lose their feathers? Was it a battle or an argument? Or was losing a feather a natural part of their growth? How do birds lose their feathers?

I believe that ducks, geese and birds exercise far more patience than people. People are often in a rush to get anywhere – pack in as much into the day as possible before dropping off to sleep or not even sleep. Waterfowl take their time to swim, to play, and to clean their feathers…and of course, finding food. A duck’s days are for sunning, sleeping, eating, relating to other ducks.

I sit here and wonder what is my role in helping to preserve this peaceful spot where wildlife can thrive?

If more of us sat down to wonder about the miracles of the natural world, would we enjoy more forward thinking environmental concerns and actions? Would more collaborative actions and few disagreements make a bigger difference? I am surprised at how many are just passing through, not noticing the scope of what is here. Envisioning a positive future is rarely a casual visitor’s first thought.