Notes from a California naturalist

The nature of Nature

Menu
  • About me
  • Contact me
Menu

Month: July 2013

Motherhood, snail style

Posted on 2013-07-262015-05-24 by Allison J. Gong

This week my female Kellet’s whelk (Kelletia kelletii) started laying eggs. She’s been doing this every summer for the past several years. She lives with one other whelk, presumably the father of her brood, as the eggs are both fertilized and viable even though I’ve never seen the snails copulating.

That’s right, copulating. Whelks are predatory marine snails, some of which get quite large. My big female’s shell is a heavily calcified 12 cm or so; she’s a beefy mother! Her mate is smaller, but other than the size difference I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart. Anyway, whelks copulate, with the male using a penis to transfer sperm into the female’s body. Not very different from the way we humans do things, actually.

So at some point in the recent past my whelks copulated, and this week the female began depositing egg cases on the walls of their shared tub. I first noticed them on Monday, but she may have started over the weekend.

Female whelk (right) laying eggs. ©Allison J. Gong
Female whelk (right) laying eggs.
© 2013 Allison J. Gong

Those pumpkin seed-shaped objects are the egg capsules. Each is actually about the size and shape of a pumpkin seed and has a tough outer covering that contains 20-50 developing embryos. After the entire clutch is lain, which usually takes this particular female a week or so, the mom will leave the eggs to develop on their own.

I’ll keep an eye on these eggs for the next week or so, and might be able to get some photos of the embryos and larvae as they begin developing. Keep your fingers crossed!

Share this:

  • Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
  • Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
  • Share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon
  • More
  • Share on Tumblr

Like this:

Like Loading...

Dudes, dudettes, and dudelets

Posted on 2013-07-132015-05-24 by Allison J. Gong

We are fortunate to have a lot of wildlife in our backyard, which is actually a canyon. On any given day we can look out and see finches and hummingbirds squabbling over their respective feeders, jays trying to steal whatever they can, and hawks either swooping through the brush or soaring overhead. The soundtrack of afternoons around here is punctuated by the sharp high-pitched “teek” of towhees and the chickadees can be heard just about any time of day. And every once in a while a mockingbird tricks me into thinking that I’m hearing something that I’m not.

Among our favorite birds is our state bird, Callipepla californica, or the California quail.

California quail male (left) and female (right)
California quail male (left) and female (right). Source: Wikimedia Commons

In our canyon we have quail year-round, and we call them collectively the “dudes.” The males, with their typically gaudy male plumage, are the dudes and the females are dudettes. In the winter, the quail form a covey of anywhere from 15-25 adults of both sexes, banding together for safety.

Males (dudes) in a winter covey
Males (dudes) in a winter covey

Once the days begin to lengthen in the spring, however, the males begin squabbling for territory and females, and the covey breaks up. After that we see the quail in male-female pairs. Interestingly, the pairs will forage in more or less the same area, but when one of the males crosses some invisible (to me) line the other will get all bent out of shape. Females seem to forage wherever they want.

Nesting occurs in the bushes somewhere, and in July we see the babies for the first time. Usually it’s the dads who bring out the dudelets; I think the females may be incubating a second clutch of eggs at this time.

Needless to say, the dudelets are very cute. The youngest we’ve ever seen were little speckled fluffballs. It’s hard to see in this photo, but at this age the dudelets already have tiny plumes.

Dudes and dudelets
Dudes and dudelets

Like most baby birds, the dudelets grow fast. After a couple of weeks they’ve grown more feathers and begin to look more like their parents. This year (2013) we missed the fluffball stage and today we saw the dudelets for the first time. They were brought up by both parents; we saw two males, one female, and 4-5 dudelets. It’s hard to get an exact count because these birds are so good at melting into the shrubs and becoming invisible. Even though there was a dudette present, it was the dudes that were watching over the dudelets.

Watchful dude and two dudelets
Watchful dude and two dudelets

Eventually the dudelets will grow up and the males will have to disperse to find and defend their own territories. The winter covey will re-form, and next spring we will be on the lookout again for the next generation.

Share this:

  • Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit
  • Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email
  • Share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon
  • More
  • Share on Tumblr

Like this:

Like Loading...

Categories

  • Bees
  • Birds
  • Field trip
  • General natural history
  • General science
  • Marine biology
  • Marine invertebrates
  • Photography
  • Travel
  • Uncategorized

Tags

algae beach bees bird birds citizen science cnidarians crustaceans desert drawing echinoderms ecology field trip fire fish forest gastropods herps hiking insects larvae mammal marine biology marine invertebrates microscopy mollusc molluscs mountains mushrooms natural history nature journal photography plankton plants river rocky intertidal sea stars sea star wasting sea urchins sponges teaching travel vertebrates weather worms

Recent Posts

  • Six months, and a big return 2026-01-02
  • Five weeks 2025-08-12
  • Afternoon mystery 2025-07-22
  • What to do in Vegas when you don’t “do” Vegas 2025-02-21
  • Spying on the hunter 2025-01-15
July 2013
S M T W T F S
 123456
78910111213
14151617181920
21222324252627
28293031  
« Jun   Aug »

Archives

© 2026 Allison J. Gong
All material mine unless otherwise specified  

©2026 Notes from a California naturalist
 

Loading Comments...
 

    %d