Mist on the river slowly rolls over the still water as I stand and watch.
The soft orange glow of morning sun reflects through dense clouds. The colors appear only for a few moments, then muted and fade to gray in the company of heavy clouds. Fifteen minutes later, I look again to see a fiery orange strip peeking behind trees in the east.
Only three birds overhead are awake this early. Not a gull or a duck have come into view yet. One lone chicken calls “good morning.” Suddenly dozens of birds in groups of six, nine and twelve soar through the foggy sky and disappear. One seagull patrols the boat launch ramp looking for salmon to nibble on. The turkey vultures, the seagulls and the Canada Geese are all flying west away from salmon spawning habitat. Is the salmon run over so soon?
Everyone has their role and place at the river. Those that don’t belong are quickly told off with a series of loud quacks and chased away.
I approach the boat launch ramp and discover air filled with the scent of dead salmon. Seagulls sit in the water calling to anyone who will listen. Two dead salmon float in the river at the end of the boat ramp. Ducks ignore this treat and paddle over their bodies. A male and female duck swim together and bob their heads in unison as they paddle through the river.
Sunrise glows a soft orange through heavy fog and a blanket of white clouds.
Streets are empty and quiet. The American River is nearly still. A few random leaves float lazily down river. I hear a splash to my left standing on Fair Oaks Bridge. I look over too late and see nothing. My hands are chilled, even in gloves and shake them out to get warm. As the sun rises at the horizon, the sky resembles a tapestry woven of grays, blues and a brush of the palest orange. Air streams from airplanes cross a wisp of dry gray clouds resembling a skein of unspun yarn. The orange at the horizon grows deeper as the sun begins to emerge.
A single gull flies west and disappears into dense fog. A jet stream crosses the sky. Two walkers emerge out of the fog on the bridge. A single jogger passes.
More gulls fly west. Their elevation is so high, I wonder if their bounty of salmon meals is coming to an end? The salmon run typically ends by mid-December.
Two Buffleheads huddle along the north riverbank, not ready for their morning swim. A few ducks are braving this chilly morning to swim in the center of the river channel. Canada Geese swim in a line swim toward the bridge. I have not seen geese in a few weeks here. I hear the distant call of one chicken living on Bridge Street, calling to anyone who can hear.
The day is peaceful and quiet. I sit alone on the boat launch ramp with the seagull, the Canada Geese and ducks paddling around the river on this sparkling, clear and cloudless blue sky.
One very unhappy seagull calls out over and over again while standing one the end of the boat launch ramp. Fifteen ducks swim and fly in shortly after I appear on the boat ramp thinking I have food. I throw a mandarin orange segment on the ground that was quickly rejected by several ducks. Pigeons and seagulls arrive waiting for their handouts.
While the ducks are busy scavenging the boat ramp, the seagull bends its head backward and screams out in frustration. I can only imagine the meaning of its calls, “Where is everyone? Where is the food? Why am I alone out here?” A few more gulls fly in to swim all looking for a meal.
Pigeons fly off the ramp and circle overhead before returning to boat ramp three separate times before they finally settle again. Ducks waddle down the ramp, returning to the river. The gulls make a quick exit, soaring through the air with wings extended to catch air currents. The lonely gull stays standing on the ramp, contemplating and calls out again. Two Canada Geese arrive and wander the boat ramp looking for something to eat.
Of the many dead and discarded salmon I have seen floating in the river or left at the riverbank, this is the first salmon skull I have seen. Finding this on the boat ramp, I wonder what creatures feasted on this and how did it get here?
I arrive at dawn to catch the sunrise, dressing snugly in my hooded jacket, long pants, long socks and gloves. Today’s icy wind is just enough to keep frost off car windows and grass. Frost coats the bridge deck and I feel its slippery surface beneath my feet. One duck braves the cold for an early swim back and forth across the river.
Why is the sun bright yellow when looking at it in daylight; yet at sunrise and sunset, we see shades of orange from pale pastel to dark and fiery?
Every morning brings a new set of cloud formations and different ways to diffuse and reflect the sun’s brilliance. Today clouds are woven as if they were a heavy gray blanket hanging over the river. Patterns of light change and spread as the sun edges closer to the horizon, painting the sky at dawn with brilliant colored light a full 30-40 minutes before the sun shows itself.
Fair Oaks Village parks and neighboring streets become the daily setting for a rousing morning symphony led and conducted by resident chickens– all still in hiding for thenight. I stood beneath one “singing tree” for several minutes listening to their good morning songs. I see a chicken standing in the shadows of darkness, tangled in tree branches, adding its voice to the chorus.
A quick flyover Fair Oaks Bridge before a splashdown landing in the American River.
Heavy fog this morning and biting cold. Two Canada Geese zoom in from the east over Fair Oaks Bridge, loudly honking and honking. I hear them coming in the distance and they suddenly appear out of the fog. I catch a quick photo as they fly over.
Two more Canada Geese zoom in from the east honking loudly, as if they are engaged in an intense conversation. I wish I understood “goose speak.”
Maybe they are discussing directions or where to land. They make a quick U-turn, fly under the bridge and land with a splash near the boat launch ramp.
Ducks hide in shadows of reeds near the shore. Sun is hiding behind a thick curtain of fog. The air is bitter cold. A Bufflehead appears in the middle of the river, dunking and reappearing as it searches for breakfast in the deepest part of the American River. Four Canada Geese swim quietly. As runners, cyclists and walkers pass by I hear a “tap, tap, tap” on the bridge and then it stops. The rumble of traffic on the Sunrise Boulevard bridge carries in the wind. I look to the shoreline and notice many trees bent over so far, they are brushing the river, yet the remains of their roots are still attached.
Hiding in shadows during a morning swim
I wonder where are the turtles? Haven’t seen any in months.
I must be too late or looking in the wrong sites for the beavers and the otters. The Mallards are always here. No spider webs today on the bridge rails. No spiders anywhere. Where are they hiding?
Today I brought a few slices of bread to feed the ducks and they rush over anxious to eat. The Muscovy duck stands alone. All waterfowl keep a 10-foot distance. When I move quickly or walk closer to them, everyone flaps their wings in unison, flies up and heads for the safety of the river. More Canada Geese fly over the river. A lonely seagull flies in squealing. After a soft landing, the gull looks around. “Where is the food?”
As I begin walking back up the ramp to the parking lot, I hear the distinctive chortle of a Great Blue Heron as it flies along the opposite shore and then disappears into the fog. Even on clear day, the Heron is difficult to follow because its blue gray colors blend seamlessly into the hillside. An Egret makes its occasional appearance and flies past the boat ramp to hide in bushes upstream.
I marvel at every sighting of these impressive birds – especially intrigued at how much the Egret avoids contact with the Great Blue Heron and all other shorebirds.
Many days I have watched ducks dunking for food and swimming leisurely in the river in front of me. I look to the opposite shore and see the Egret perched on a rock alone patrolling for its own snacks.
Dozens of people are enjoying the beautiful weather on Jim’s Bridge. Scattered white clouds are barely visible. A year ago, this bridge was under at least six feet of water as a result of our relentless January rainstorms.
Today 50 seagulls circle a small island in a “flying frenzy.” They squeak, land and settle down. Others fly, land and fly off to circle the river and return. I see a few ducks walking the riverbank snatching crumbs of food. One Egret is tiptoeing along the bank away from the crowds.
Seagulls and ducks roam the shore looking for food. The Egret is just beyond the photo’s left edge.
Riding my bike today, I visit the spot where the bike trail overlooks a sandy beach area – a popular picnic spot for families and summer rafters. Another 20 seagulls rest here. Water moves swiftly over a wide expanse of smooth boulders and sandbars that shape the character of this part of the river – given the name San Juan Rapids. I have seen rafts and ice chests overturn more than once here. Today, the river is so low a father and his son stand in ankle deep water where sandbars and boulders are showing line one-third of the way across the river channel.
When I reach Fair Oaks Bridge, I feel overwhelmed by the number of people I see. The entire area surrounding Fair Oaks Bridge and the boat launch ramp is filled with individuals and families enjoying the afternoon. Inside of five minutes, 50 people have crossed the bridge. Cyclists take group photos. Others arrive with fishing poles. Ducks swim toward the center of the river, avoiding the people.
I do my best to ignore the people and focus on a complex spider web attached to the bridge rails. I watch the graceful flight of a seagull and notice how far its wings extend. My visit here is short.
I return to Jim’s Bridge to ride home. Seagulls are still flying in huge circles from the island to the Sunrise Blvd. Bridge and back again. I wonder if this a daily physical activity? Similar to when people walk, run or cycle? Ducks sitting on one side of the river rise into the air, flapping their wings as quickly as possible and land on the opposite shore. Usually that means they spotted a person to feed them. When two take flight, all the others soon follow.
A frantic day on the American River – I saw at least 200 people in 90 minutes on two bridges, the boat launch ramp and during my ride on the Jedediah Smith Memorial Bike Trail within the American River Parkway.
Today’s temperature warmed up quickly considering that it was 38 degrees at 7 am. I wonder why the morning is so warm?
This is the quiet season on the American River. January days at Fair Oaks Bridge have alternated between dense fog, rain and bright sunshine. No telling what the day will look like until dawn. I have noticed on some evenings the clouds that gathered at night are blown away by morning – or the other way around.
I walk to the boat launch ramp and watch a seagull standing still atop a rock just beneath the water. Another one stands at the end of the ramp. Both stare intently at me.
After several minutes of quiet contemplation, both seagulls decide to investigate another part of the river. They leave without making a sound.
A group of six Bufflehead dive in the center of the river ignoring everything else. Buffleheads skim the top of the water when they take flight, leaving a large wake behind them. Their wings flap so quickly, they remind me of hummingbirds. All I can see a blur of flapping wings crossing the river.
A dozen pigeons arrive. They circle the bridge a dozen times before separating. Only a few remain to settle on Fair Oaks Bridge. I watch them from a distance walking on the top of the Truss framework as if it were a flat sidewalk.
Such a peaceful day, it is hard to imagine this was a raging river one year ago today. The boat ramp was invisible under five feet or more of water. So many waterfowl moved to shallow waters, where they could find food and safer shelter. The riverbank homes were washed out.
Moments after I walk onto the bridge, I hear the chortle of a Great Blue Heron beneath me. It flies east under the bridge and settles on a nearby riverbank out of sight. Often arriving at 630 am, by 730, The Great Blue Heron has already surveyed one section of riverbank. I hear it chortle as it raises up to move to another site.
Good morning Fair Oaks!
Chicken call from the neighborhood, “Time to wake up everyone!” A group of six Canada Geese fly over the bridge from the east in traditional V formation, all honking in unison. They fly about 100 yards farther, make a U-turn to fly back over my head, fly east and vanish. A single bird is perched on the bridge frame over my head. It is quietly watching. Far too large to be tiny bird I used to hear every morning singing, “Ti Too! Ti Too!” A chorus of hidden birds begins. I hear the bird that sounds like a calliope and many other bird calls I cannot identify.
Standing on the bridge I hear the female Mallard quacking once again in the distance. (See video posted in “Morning Pandemonium” on January 14) She quacks as she swims. I continue to wonder what she is saying? Is she paddling in rhythm to her own voice? Since I cannot speak duck, I may never know. An Egret flies in from the west. A short time later, another flies in and they resume their low and elegant flight over the river to the east as a pair.
Sunbathing turtles on a wayward tree branch
Arriving at the boat launch ramp, I see the female duck leading a line of ducks swimming upriver. Her quacking continues and I continue to hear the sound of her voice until it fades away in the distance. I walk back up to Fair Oaks Bridge. As I leave the river for the morning, I nearly miss two turtles out sunbathing.
Under partially cloudy skies, I hear the female Mallard quacking without end.I hear her voice every time I visit Fair Oaks Bridge.
Egret walks part way across the thin branch – then flies the rest of the way to the riverbank
Two men launch a rowboat into the American River at the boat ramp and float under the bridge and downriver to the west. The air feels warm outside at first, until I begin to feel the chill on my fingers.
Today the American River looks like a wildlife flyway. So many are flying in and away.
Usually I see one Egret flying in. Today I see a pair!
The Egrets fly under the bridge just above the surface of the water, land on the riverbank at the foot of Fair Oaks Bluffs (the north, sunny side of the river) and quickly fly back in the direction where they had come. I hear the chortle of an unseen Great Blue Heron. A dozen seagulls fly west – high for the long run – and three Mallards soar under the bridge.
I hear the female Mallard still quacking in the distance. Canada Geese fly in full animated with their loud honking to the boat launch ramp and then fly under the bridge. One settles on a concrete pillar supporting the bridge directly in front of me. It looks at me and whispers. More ducks arrive. The Egrets fly off again.
Birds twitter in the cool morning air. A gentle breeze blows against my face.
Riding my bike today, I stop briefly on Fair Oaks Bridge to check for wildlife and spider webs. I continue on the American River Parkway trail, stopping at a shallow, narrow place on the American River. This short part of the river is lined with a thick blanket of gravel. The river’s resident Mallards come here to find food. Salmon arrive in the fall to spawn here.
This shallow area of the river is ideal for salmon to spawn and ducks to bob and swim to find food.
Many salmon swim further upriver to another shallow place, or finish their long journey to Nimbus Fish Hatchery. I chat with several walkers who have also stopped to enjoy the view.
A Cormorant stands on a small island in the middle of the river channel. I hear a distant quack from an unseen duck once, and then again and again, as if it is calling ‘Where is everyone?’ This rocky island is a fraction of its former size before the winter 2017 flooding. Fishermen used to dock their boats here, set up a chair with their ice chest alongside, and spend a few hours fishing.
Cormorant takes a rest on the island
Next stop is a picnic area on the riverbank, a short distance from the bike path. I listen to the sounds of the soft breeze and hear the water gently moving downstream. The river is moving more quickly today than recent visits. Small white peaks form on the other side of the river about 100 yards downstream. Could this be where rocks hide underneath and create rapids in the river?
I ride back to the boat launch ramp to watch Mallards searching the water for bugs or seeds or something to nibble on. I sit and watch them paddle through the water and dive head first into the water searching for food. If I had food to give them, two dozen ducks would fly in from anywhere, sensing feeding activity on the river.
