Tag: photography

What to do in Vegas when you don’t “do” Vegas

Posted on by Allison J. Gong

Twice now in the past six months I’ve gone to Las Vegas for a concert. Trust me, I’m just about the last person you’d expect to spend any time in Vegas—I have zero interest in gambling or shopping, and the nonstop lights and noise of the Strip really get on my nerves. So since we had some time to kill before the shows, we ventured out of the city to explore the desert.

One of the places we visited both times was Valley of Fire State Park, Nevada’s first state park, established in 1935. Located to the northeast of Vegas, Valley of Fire is about as un-Vegas as you can get. It’s only about an hour out of the city, and is a welcome change from the sensory overstimulation of the Strip. It would be brutally hot there in the summer, but in the fall and late winter was lovely. Even though it will never be one of my favorite habitats, I find the desert fascinating. The limited color palette has my photographer’s eye looking for nuances in color value and texture in the landscape. And some of the blue skies are amazing.

On the way to Valley of Fire this time we drove through the Lake Mead National Recreation Area. One of the interesting places we passed was Rogers Spring, which is a naturally occurring oasis. It runs continually throughout the year, although the National Park Service website says that the ultimate source of the water is uncertain.

Landscape with rocky hill in background, two palm trees and a small pond in midground, and green bushes in foreground
Rogers Spring, Lake Mead Nat’l Recreation Area, NV
©️ Allison J. Gong
2025-02-07

The sign that is mostly obscured by foliage tells people that they can protect the ecology of this rare desert oasis by not releasing their pet fish/reptiles/amphibians into the spring. Clearly the warning comes too late, as I saw many “liberated” pet fish—guppies, gouramis, and goldfish—swimming in the spring. Perhaps other springs are farther from the road and not as easily accessible as this one, and perhaps those are less affected by human stupidity.

The Valley of Fire takes its name from the iron-rich rocks that dominate the landscape. The geology of the place is amazing! We didn’t have time to go fossil-hunting or do much hiking, but even from the road the vistas were spectacular.

Landscape with white clouds in bright blue sky, rounded mountains and hills in red
Valley of Fire State Park, NV
© Allison J. Gong
2025-02-07
Landscape with blue sky and white clouds, mountains in the distance, red rocky ground in foreground
Valley of Fire State Park, NV
© Allison J. Gong
2025-02-07

Up close, we could see undulating patterns in the rock formations.

Rock formation at Valley of Fire State Park, NV
© Allison J. Gong
2025-02-07

But the one thing I really wanted to see was one of the petroglyph formations in the park. The oldest petroglyphs in Valley of Fire date back to about 2000 BCE. There are two easily accessible petroglyph formations, and we visited the one nearest the visitor center in an area called Mouse’s Tank Trail.

Petroglyphs at Valley of Fire State Park, NV
© Allison J. Gong
2025-02-07

and

Petroglyphs at Valley of Fire State Park, NV
© Allison J. Gong
2025-02-07

These particular petroglyphs are right along the trail, which is why I don’t think I’m drawing unwanted attention to them. Anybody can walk right up them, and some people have unfortunately decided to leave their mark. Obviously, that smiley face on the far left isn’t a petroglyph. I was actually surprised that the petroglyphs were as un-messed-with as they appeared to be. I’m neither an anthropologist nor an historian, but I do wonder what these early artists were trying to communicate. Some of the images are clearly people, and with some imagination I can see animals in others. An anthropologist named Eric Pacl wrote a thesis about the Valley of Fire petroglyphs for their M.A. degree in Archeology from UNLV in 2012. I defer to their expertise and interpretation of the petroglyphs.

So if you find yourself in Vegas and don’t want to the whole Vegas thing, head out of town and check out Valley of Fire State Park. You won’t regret it!

Spying on the hunter

Posted on by Allison J. Gong

This afternoon I was hanging some laundry to dry on the back deck, when something reddish caught my eye. I grabbed the binoculars, peered down into the bushes, and saw a pair of ears emerging from behind a bush. Soon a very handsome coyote came out to bask in the sun. Just in case it did anything interesting I fetched the camera, which was fortunately already wearing the 400mm lens, and settled down to watch for a while.

After a few more moments enjoying the sun, the coyote got up and went on alert. It had clearly heard something. A late lunch, maybe?

Reddish-brown doglike animal with large ears standing on hillside and looking off to its right
Coyote (Canis latrans)
2025-01-15
© Allison J. Gong

Yes indeed, the hunt was on!

Reddish-brown doglike animal facing to the right with its head at ground level behind some tall grass
Coyote (Canis latrans)
2025-01-15
© Allison J. Gong

It didn’t take long for the hunter to make its catch.

Reddish-brown doglike animal with large ears turning to face left and carrying a gray object in its mouth
Coyote (Canis latrans) carrying a rodent in its mouth
2025-01-15
© Allison J. Gong
Reddish-brown doglike animal with large ears facing the left and carrying a gray object in its mouth
Coyote (Canis latrans) carrying a rodent in its mouth
2025-01-15
© Allison J. Gong

But in the manner of a cat, the coyote dropped the rodent and played with it for a while.

Once the rodent (which I think was a rat of some kind) was captured, it took more chomping than I had anticipated for the coyote to actually eat it. I kept thinking, “Okay, it must be done now,” and the coyote would turn its head to show me the rodent sticking out of the side of its mouth.

The entire event, from when the coyote first heard the rustling of the rodent to when it stood up and walked away, lasted about five minutes. Shortly after finishing its meal the coyote stood up, threw a glance down the hill, and disappeared into the bushes.

Reddish-brown doglike animal with large ears standing on hillside and looking off to its right
Coyote (Canis latrans)
2025-01-15
© Allison J. Gong

We often hear coyotes yipping at night, which inevitably riles up all the neighborhood dogs, and occasionally we capture one on the critter cam. It’s not unusual to see coyotes in the daylight, but this is the first time I’ve gotten to see one hunting and making a kill. This coyote looked very healthy. And this is why we keep the cats indoors!

Appreciating the tinies

Posted on by Allison J. Gong

Earlier this week I collected a plankton sample and settled down for a day of microscopy. For a variety of reasons it was my first foray into actual biology for the month of June, and I just wanted to feel like a marine biologist for a while.

As far as plankton samples go, there wasn’t a lot to write home about. The large centric diatoms that we had seen in the spring were much less abundant, although there was quite a bit of the pennate diatom Pseudonitzschia. Part of the reason I did the plankton tow was to have something to look at under the microscope and to practice taking photos. There are all sorts of gadgets that allow one to use a phone to take photos through the microscope, but I’ve found those to be either specific to one phone model or too fiddly and frustrating to get properly lined up. Besides, when I bought my microscope several years ago now I had the foresight to splurge for the trinocular head, which allows me to mount a real camera and leaves both eyepieces available to look through. Might as well take advantage of it!

So, I just took a bunch of photos.

First up was a chain diatom in the genus Chaetoceros. Phase contrast lighting might not have been the best option here, but oh well. Chaetoceros cells are box-shaped, with a spine protruding from each corner of the box. Aside: ‘chaeto’ means ‘hair’ or ‘bristle’ in Greek. The spines of adjacent cells sort of interlock and hold the cells together, forming the chain. Spines also provide some defense against predation.

Many species of Chaetoceros form straight chains like this.

Chain diatom Chaetoceros sp., viewed with phase contrast lighting
2024-06-24
©Allison J. Gong

But one species, Chaetoceros debilis, forms spiral chains!

Spiral chain of gold-colored boxes
Chain diatom Chaetoceros debilis, viewed with brightfield lighting
2024-06-24
©Allison J. Gong

Earlier in the spring there were a lot of Coscinodiscus diatoms in the local plankton. Those are the big button-like diatoms with the sculpted frustule. They aren’t nearly as common now, but I did see a few. And managed to get a nice shot of one:

Golden circular object

The star of the show was Thalassiothrix, another diatom in which the ends of cells cells remain connected after dividing. Instead of forming chains as Chaetoceros does, Thalassiothrix makes colonies that are either zig-zag or star-shaped. It just so happens that this organism looks especially brilliant under darkfield lighting, so I was very happy.

Diatom Thalassiothrix sp, viewed under darkfield lighting
2024-06-24
©Allison J. Gong

But take a look at this symmetry:

Fan-shaped arrangement of long golden rectangles, against a black background
Diatom Thalassiothrix sp, viewed under darkfield lighting
2024-06-24
©Allison J. Gong

Isn’t that a spectacular organism? I had a lot of fun developing and processing that image, and am happy at how well it turned out. Darkfield lighting is fun to play with!

Black and white

Posted on by Allison J. Gong

One of my favorite seabirds is the pigeon guillemot (Cepphus columba). According to the Cornell Lab of Ornithololgy, pigeon guillemots should be present along the California coast year-round, but I seem to see them only during the summer breeding season, when they forage close to shore. Having first to incubate eggs, and then to feed hungry chicks, the adults cannot venture too far from land. At this time they are central place foragers, which just means that they make short flights to find food, then always return to the same site (where the nest is). During the nonbreeding season the pigeon guillemots are still around, but forage farther out to sea. Once their young have fledged and are feeding on their own, there is no need for the adults to spend much time on land at all, and they certainly are no longer tied to any particular location.

Black bird with white patches on wings, resting on a rock
Pigeon guillemot (Cepphus columba) at Terrace Point
2024-05-28
©Allison J. Gong

This morning I was at the marine lab looking for the black oystercatcher chicks that hatched recently. I didn’t seem them today. However, patience was rewarded and I saw a pair of pigeon guillemots land on one of the cliffs near where I was sitting. For a while they just rested, then they rose up onto their feet and started circling around each other. That sure looked like courtship behavior, so I brought up the camera and snapped away.

Given how conspicuous those red feet are, it’s no surprise that they are indeed used in courtship displays. The birds walk around each other to show off their feet, and touch their bills together. The inner surface of the mouth is a matching crimson color. Presumably the redness indicates vitality that would be desirable in a mate.

I’ve seen pigeon guillemots nesting in cliffs up at Pigeon Point. I’m not sure where the birds at the marine lab have made their nests, though. Must investigate further!

Wildflowers galore

Posted on by Allison J. Gong

Like many (most?) Californians, I was swept up in the 2023 wildflower superbloom, which followed on the record-setting rain and snowfall we saw in the previous winter. The rain caused disruptions in many areas of California; in my area, I had multiple students whose homes were flooded when the levee along the Pajaro River failed. I didn’t have to deal with anything nearly that serious, although I did have to make a lot of schedule adjustments for the field classes that I taught.

In my rather desultory way, I noticed that the flowers seem to be blooming later than usual. In previous years (2017 and 2019) we went flower hunting during my spring break at the end of March, and in some places the peak of the bloom had already finished. This year (2023) we went in mid-April, and the many of the flowers had yet to reach peak bloom. Another thing we did differently this year was to bypass most of the sites at lower elevations such as Carrizo Plain, which were way too crowded to be thoroughly enjoyable, and visit the hills where the roads were less tourist-friendly and thus less traveled. In general, flowers at the higher elevations are always a little behind those at lower elevations.

I took a ton of photos, of course, and the one that most accurately encapsulates the splendiferousness of the views is this one:

Hills covered in green foliage and flower patches in purple and yellow
Wildflower superbloom in San Luis Obispo County
2023-04-16
© Allison J. Gong

This was the typical color palette in these hills. At first I thought all the yellow was due to goldfields, which we had seen at lower elevations, but it turned out to be something entirely different. And note that there are two distinct shades of purple. Who are these? Here’s a key to the different floral colors in this landscape.

Flower A: Common hillside daisy (Monolopia lanceolata)

Plants with green foliage and yellow daisy-like flowers
Common hillside daisy (Monolopia lanceolata) in San Luis Obispo County
2023-04-16
© Allison J. Gong

This plant was indeed very common, and was often by far the dominant flower color in the hills.

Distant hills covered with green foliage and yellow flowers
Common hillside daisy (Monolopia lanceolata) in San Luis Obispo County
2023-04-16
© Allison J. Gong

and

Hills covered with green foliage and yellow flowers
Common hillside daisy (Monolopia lanceolata) in San Luis Obispo County
2023-04-16
© Allison J. Gong

Flower B: Purple owl’s clover (Castilleja exserta)

I remember seeing Castilleja exserta on previous trips, in dry, sandy areas. But I’d never seen dense patches of them, so that was new and fun. They are the flowers that make up the violet purple color. It is a low growing flower and seems to occur in open places among grasses.

Violet purple clover flowers in a dense patch
Purple owl’s clover (Castilleja exserta) in San Luis Obispo County
2023-04-16
© Allison J. Gong

Flower C: Phacelia

The bluer shade of purple is due to Phacelia. I’m not sure which species, and my observation on iNaturalist hasn’t yet been identified. I think it’s P. ciliata, as it looks right and has been found in this area.

Purple flowers among grasses
Phacelia sp. in San Luis Obispo County
2023-04-16
© Allison J. Gong
Purple flowers
Phacelia sp. in San Luis Obispo County
2023-04-16
© Allison J. Gong
Purple flowers
Phacelia sp. in San Luis Obispo County
2023-04-16
© Allison J. Gong

Flower D: California poppy (Eschscholzia californica)

Last, but certainly not least, was our state flower, the California poppy. We did see some dense patches of poppies in the hills but there were more prevalent in the flatlands—Carrizo Plain, Antelope Valley, and the Shell Creek Road area were chock full of poppies.

Tan sandy soil, flowers with green foliage and orange petals
California poppies (Eschscholzia californica) in San Luis Obispo County
2023-04-16
© Allison J. Gong

What the photos don’t depict is the dynamic aspect of these landscapes. At these elevations there was almost always a soft breeze, and the flowers sway with the wind. It’s really very soothing to watch. I had to zoom way in to record this video, but it’s totally worth it.

Just for funsies, I want to show off what might be my favorite photo of the weekend, taken at the end of the day. I encountered these handsome fellows along the Wildflower Loop at Windwolves Preserve. They both stared at me for so long that I had to take their picture. I never thought a bovine portrait would wind up in my portfolio, but there you have it.

2023-04-15
© Allison J. Gong

With so much emphasis on the wildflower superbloom, one can easily overlook the torrential and destructive rains that were at least partly responsible for it. Ongoing climate change may mean that California oscillates between severe drought and flooding rains for the foreseeable future. It’s more than a little unsettling, but at least the rains bring flowers for us to enjoy.

An inadvertent voyeur

Posted on by Allison J. Gong

A week ago I was with a group of students at Moss Landing, where we spent a couple of hours watching birds on our way down to Fort Ord Natural Reserve for an overnight camping trip. The visit was well-timed: we arrived at low tide so there was a lot of mud flat exposed, meaning ample real estate for foraging shorebirds. By now the students were pretty comfortable using binoculars, and it warmed my heart to see them getting used to one of my favorite tools in the naturalist’s kit.

Two people wearing jackets and backpacks, sitting on a log facing away from the camera. They are looking through binoculars at the ocean.
Students observing birds at Moss Landing State Beach
2023-02-11
© Allison J. Gong

The real stars of this particular tale were the birds. Specifically, a pair of willets (Tringa semipalmata). As we walked along the road towards the dunes and beach, I caught sight of a pair of willets involved in what appeared to be an altercation of sorts. I snapped off a bunch of photos and continued on.

When I had time to review the photos a few days later, I saw that what I had thought was some display of aggression was actual mating, or preliminary activities to actual mating. Oops! That hadn’t occurred to me at the time because somewhere in the back of my brain I thought that willets are winter visitors here who breed elsewhere. Of course, courtship and pair-bonding involve multiple bouts of copulation, and any single copulation event may or may not result in successful insemination. It does make sense for copulation to occur before migration to breeding grounds, whether the “real thing” happens here or in the birds’ summer range.

All this to say that I captured a series of photographs that, if they were of our species, would be considered pornographic. But since the subjects were willets and not humans, I can call them wildlife photography!

This is a series of 21 photos, presented as a slide show. The entire sequence of events took about 10 seconds.

I didn’t catch the exact moment of cloacal contact, if indeed there was any. It does still feel a little bit voyeuristic, but that’s why I like watching birds in the first place—they carry on their lives and don’t care about human morals or pruderies. It is always an honor and a privilege to witness nature doing its thing. And who knows, perhaps a new generation of willets was conceived by this pair!

Shooting white birds

Posted on by Allison J. Gong

Since the fields at the marine lab flooded, birds have been gathering in the vernal pools. It’s frog-hunting season for the herons and egrets! This morning there was a group of about a dozen egrets were stalking prey in the area near the old road, and I finally had my camera with me to take photos and it wasn’t raining horizontally.

For anyone interested in such things, I took these photos with a Sigma 150-600mm lens on my Nikon D780 DSLR body shooting mostly in the 200-400mm range.

Snowy egret (Egretta thula)
2023-01-07
© Allison J. Gong
Snowy egret (Egretta thula)
2023-01-07
© Allison J. Gong
Great egret (Ardea alba)
2023-01-07
© Allison J. Gong
Great egret (Ardea alba)
2023-01-07
© Allison J. Gong
Snowy egret (Egretta thula)
2023-01-07
© Allison J. Gong
Snowy egret (Egretta thula) and butt end of a mallard drake
2023-01-07
© Allison J. Gong
Snowy egret (Egretta thula)
2023-01-07
© Allison J. Gong

No great blue herons today. Another storm is blowing in now, and the birds will take shelter until the wind and rain are less violent. Forecasters predict that today’s storm will be stronger than the one that tore up the coast a couple of days ago. Fingers crossed we keep power!

A different perspective

Posted on by Allison J. Gong

Yesterday I had the great fortune to visit a new intertidal site. It can be accessed only by crossing private property. The property owner is my next-door neighbor, and he said I can visit any time. As I said, lucky me! The site is a little north of Pigeon Point, and at first glance the terrain is not very different from Pigeon. But I could tell that it a site that is rarely, if ever, visited by humans. It just had that look of being mostly undisturbed. Yesterday’s marine layer was low, making for dark skies and pretty lousy light for picture-taking, so I had to try something new.

This site has a lot of lovely pools and channels to explore, and at this time of year the water is very clear, which does make for good picture-taking. Halosaccion glandiforme, one of the charismatic red algae, is more abundant here than at other sites, and in the pools it grows quite a bit taller than it does on the rocks.

Here’s what it looks like on the tops of the rocks. This is a cluster of young thalli. The tallest of these “bladders” is about 4 cm tall. Note that they are about 2/3 full of water, with a large air space at the top.

Many olive-green spherical and ovoid bladders, attached to rock.
Young Halosaccion glandiforme thalli along the San Mateo County coast
2022-08-14
© Allison J. Gong

The really cool thing is what happened when I stuck the camera in the water and took a shot. I got something like this:

Two elongate olive-green bladders, filled about 2/3 with water, submerged in a tidepool
Halosaccion glandiforme and other algae submerged in a tidepool
2022-08-14
© Allison J. Gong

I got a little carried away. But don’t things look interesting from the turban snail’s perspective?

Olive-green towers rising from a carpet of pink algae. A black snail is nestled between a trio of the towers.
Halosaccion glandiforme and a black turban snail (Tegula funebralis) in a tidepool
2022-08-14
© Allison J. Gong

I’m kind of enraptured by these towers of algae.

Olive-green towers rising from a carpet of pink algae.
Halosaccion glandiforme in a tidepool
2022-08-14
© Allison J. Gong

But the best part of these experiments was the reflections on the surface of the water. Check it out.

Olive-green towers rising from a carpet of pink algae.
Halosaccion glandiforme in a tidepool
2022-08-14
© Allison J. Gong

And this is the money shot! I just love how this turned out.

Olive-green towers rising from a carpet of pink algae in the bottom half of the image. The same tower are reflected in the top half of the image.
Halosaccion glandiforme in a tidepool
2022-08-14
© Allison J. Gong

This was a super fun morning. I’m looking forward to visiting this site again, when the light is better. When the daylight low tides return in a few months they will be in the afternoon. I anticipate some fantastic light shows in these pools and channels. I’ll be teaching most afternoons by then, but will get out as often as I can.

To the stars and back again

Posted on by Allison J. Gong

Dedication: For Krinkle, because I think he’d appreciate the juxtaposition

This is one of my favorite quotations from literature:

And it is a strange thing that most of the feeling we call religious, most of the mystical outcrying which is one of the most prized and used and desired reactions of our species, is really the understanding and the attempt to say that man is related to the whole thing, related inextricably to all reality, known and unknowable. This is a simple thing to say, but the profound feeling of it made a Jesus, a St. Augustine, a St. Francis, a Roger Bacon, a Charles Darwin, and an Einstein. Each of them in his own tempo and with his own voice discovered and reaffirmed with astonishment the knowledge that all things are one thing and that one thing is all things—plankton, a shimmering phosphorescence on the sea and the spinning planets and an expanding universe, all bound together by the elastic string of time. It is advisable to look from the tide pool to the stars and back to the tide pool again.

—J. Steinbeck and E.F. Ricketts, Log from the Sea of Cortez

These words are never far from my thoughts when I contemplate the nature of life on planet Earth. And with this week’s release of the first images from the James Webb telescope, they rocketed back into my brain with full force.

To my eye, the most striking of these first images from James Webb is this one, of the Carina Nebula. It is just breathtaking.

Carina Nebula, photographed by the James Webb space telescope
2022-07-12
Public domain by NASA

When I started poking around NASA’s website I kept finding images that reminded me of my tide pool photos. So I want to share a few comparisons.

Stephan’s Quintet

NASA also released this photo of Stephan’s Quintet, a group of five galaxies found in the constellation Pegasus. Only four of the five galaxies are visible in this image.

Stephan’s Quintet, photographed by the James Webb Space Telescope
2022-07-12
Public domain by NASA

Those swirling white masses are vast sweeps of dust and gas. But to my mind they resemble spawning male marine invertebrates, of which I have seen more than any normal person. See what I mean?

Male feather duster worm (Eudistylia polymorpha), spawning
2021-04-24
© Allison J. Gong

and

Male moonglow anemone (Anthopleura artemisia), spawning
2016-04-09
© Allison J. Gong

Given all the justified hype over the images taken by James Webb, it’s sort of easy to forget about the Hubble Space Telescope. But Hubble has been taking spectacular images for years, giving humanity some of our first and best images of the universe far from home.

Abell 370

In the archived data from the Hubble Space Telescope, I found several eye-catching photos. This one, of Abell 370, reminded me of plankton. Abell 370 is another cluster of galaxies. It contains hundreds of galaxies held in a group by their mutual gravitational pulls. I love all the shapes of these galaxies, which do indeed look like plankters!

Abell 370, photographed by the Hubble Space Telescope in 2017
Public domain by NASA

Here’s a plankton sample in a bowl:

Live plankton sample
2022-03-21
© Allison J. Gong

And doesn’t this radiolarian look like it belongs in Abell 370?

Live marine radiolarian under darkfield lighting
2020-05-06
© Allison J. Gong

Prawn Nebula

In 2021 the Hubble Space Telescope took a photograph of the Prawn Nebula. As with most of images of amorphous things in space, I can’t explain why the Prawn Nebula has that name. Most of the light it emits is in wavelengths that we cannot see, so the Prawn Nebula is essentially invisible to the naked eye. This image from Hubble was taken in infrared light, and is beautifully colorful.

The Prawn Nebula, photographed by the Hubble Space Telescope in 2021
Public domain by NASA

The colors in this nursery for baby stars reminds me of the ones I see in some of our iridescent algae in the intertidal here on Earth.

Iridescent alga (Mazzaella flaccida) at Davenport Landing
2019-06-19
© Allison J. Gong

Baby stars

Hubble photographed this area of space, where new stars are being born, back in 2015. This region, designated NGC 2174, is in the constellation Orion.

Region NGC 2174, a star nursery, photographed by the Hubble Space Telescope in 2015
Public domain by NASA

At the peak of the summer growing season the sea lettuces (Ulva spp.) look similar.

Sea lettuce (Ulva sp.) at Franklin Point
2020-06-09
© Allison J. Gong

Jupiter

In 2016, NASA’s Juno mission arrived at its target, the largest planet in our solar system. The vehicle carries a camera called the JunoCam, which sends data back to Earth. NASA collects the raw images and makes them available to the public for free, to be processed and edited. The public is thus making an ongoing contribution to science. The JunoCam is still operational. NASA also invites amateur astronomers to add their own photos of Jupiter, taken from personal telescopes, to the database of images.

Anyway, here’s a photo of Jupiter, taken by JunoCam and processed by Brian Swift:

Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/SwRI/MSSS/BrianSwift

All of these lovely swirls brought to mind the patterns I sometimes see on the surface of a tide pool.

Foam on the surface of a tide pool at Franklin Point
2021-04-29
© Allison J. Gong

And now, having spent several hours marveling at the beauty of the stars as captured by the Hubble and James Webb telescopes, I take Steinbeck’s and Ricketts’ advice and return to my tide pool image library, where I see other swirling patterns that I did not find in any of the space photos. But I hope that they will be found out there, some day.

Kelps (Nereocystis luetkeana and Egregia menziesii) floating on a tide pool at Davenport Landing
2017-07-11
© Allison J. Gong
Ulva spawn on the surface of a tide pool at Franklin Point
2021-04-29
© Allison J. Gong

By all means, look up at the stars and marvel at the vastness of the universe. But don’t forget to also look down at where your feet are and marvel at the intricacy and exquisite beauty of what we can experience with our human senses.

Natural Bridges

Posted on by Allison J. Gong

Last week we had some of the best low tides of the season, and I was grateful to spend three consecutive mornings in the intertidal. The picture-taking conditions were fantastic when I went to Natural Bridges, and I snapped away like a madwoman. Unfortunately, last week was also finals week, and it wasn’t until I got all of the grading done and actual grades submitted that I let myself look at the photos. And there were a lot of good ones!

There are many wonderful things about the early morning low tides. One of the best is that most people prefer to remain in bed rather than get up before the sun and splash around in cold water. The past several weeks had been very busy, with little time for solitude, and I badly needed some time by myself in nature.

Usually when I post an entry here I have a story to tell. This time I don’t, unless the photos themselves tell the story. Let me know what you think.

Rocks covered in green surfgrass and brown seaweed, surrounded by water. Wave breaking in the background. Clouds in the sky.
Low intertidal at Natural Bridges
2022-05-17
© Allison J. Gong

Act I

At this time of year the algae are the stars of the show. They are at their most lush and glorious for the next several weeks.

Brown and dark iridescent seaweeds on rocks
Assemblage of mid-intertidal organisms
2022-05-17
© Allison J. Gong

Even in the sand, the algae were abundant and conspicuous. In the low intertidal the most prominent algae are the kelps. Here the feather boa kelp (Egregia menziesii) and the various Laminaria species are doing really well. Egregia also occurs higher in the intertidal, but Laminaria and Macrocystis (just visible along the right edge) are low intertidal and subtidal species.

Kelps (Egregia menziesii, Laminaria setchellii, and Macrocystis pyrifera) in the low intertidal
2022-05-17
© Allison J. Gong

My absolute favorite sighting of the morning was this group of algae on top of the sand. I love the way that the algae are splayed out. They are just so pretty!

Assemblage of algae in the sand
2022-05-17
© Allison J. Gong

Macrocystis pyrifera is justifiably well known as the major canopy-forming kelp along our coast. But it does occur in the low intertidal, as mentioned above.

Long strands of golden-brown seaweed
Giant kelp (Macrocystis pyrifera)
2022-05-17
© Allison J. Gong

Intermission

Act II

And now to focus on some individual organisms. Starting with my favorites, the anemones. This time it was the giant green anemone, Anthopleura xanthogrammica, that was the star of the show.

Large bright green sea anemone
Green anemone (Anthopleura xanthogrammica)
2022-05-17
© Allison J. Gong

I experimented with close-up shots, too!

Close-up of green sea anemone tentacles
Close-up of green sea anemone tentacles
Green anemone (Anthopleura xanthogrammica)
2022-05-17
© Allison J. Gong

There was a clingfish (Gobiesox meandricus), in its usual under-rock habitat. Don’t worry, I made sure to carefully replace the rock as I found it. This fish was about 10cm long. It may be the first clingfish I’ve ever seen at Natural Bridges. Clearly, I need to do more rock flipping.

Mottled brown fish with large head, on a rock
Northern clingfish (Gobiesox meandricus)
2022-05-17
© Allison J. Gong

A clingfish’s pelvic fins are fused together and modified to form a suction cup on the ventral surface. Clingfish can hop around a bit and are super cute when they eat. They sort of dart forward and land on the food, then shuffle around as they ingest it.

The coralline algae were both abundant and flourishing. They are looking fantastic this season. Someday I’ll study up on the coralline algae and write about them. For now, here are some happy snaps of Bossiella.

Pink, stiff, seaweed. Body of repeated sections.
Bossiella sp.
Pink, stiff, seaweed. Body of repeated sections.
Bossiella sp.
Pink, stiff, seaweed. Body of repeated sections.
Bossiella sp., one of the erect coralline algae
2022-05-17
© Allison J. Gong

Such a beautiful organism!

Sticking with the pink theme, another oft-overlooked organism is the barnacle Tetraclita rubescens. It has a few common names, including pink volcano barnacle and thatched barnacle. It is the largest of the intertidal barnacles along the California coast, and can be fairly abundant in some places. It is never as abundant as the smaller white (Balanus glandula) and gray/brown (Chthamalus dalli/fissus) barnacles, though.

Large pink barnacles on a rock
Tetraclita rubescens, the large pink barnacle
2022-05-17
© Allison J. Gong

Which brings us to my favorite color, purple. The tentacles of the sandcastle worm, Phragmatopoma californica, are a beautiful shade of purple. You don’t get to see the tentacles unless the worm is under water, and with the tide as low as it was when I was there this past week, it wasn’t easy finding any Phragmatopoma that were submerged. I’ve written about Phragmatopoma before, so won’t go into details here. But look at all those fecal pellets!

Tentacles of the sandcastle worm, Phragmatopoma californica
2022-05-17
© Allison J. Gong

And last but not least, here are a couple of the many purple urchins (Strongylocentrotus purpuratus) out there. At Natural Bridges there’s a large pool fairly high in the mid-intertidal that is called the Urchin Pool because it contains dozens (hundreds?) of urchins. Most of them are burrowed into the soft rock. Those are sort of easy pickings. I like finding urchins in less-obvious places, like these.

Purple urchins (Strongylocentrotus purpuratus) tucked into burrows
2022-05-17
© Allison J. Gong

Urchins in the intertidal often cover themselves with bits of shell, small pebbles, and algae. This helps them retain water as the tide recedes. At a location where the rock is soft, such as Natural Bridges, many of the urchins have grown larger than the opening to their burrow and cannot leave to forage; these imprisoned urchins have to wait for pieces of algae to drift nearby, which they can grab with their tube feet and then transport to the mouth on the underside. So long as they don’t get pried out by otters, the urchins seem to do just fine.

I think that’s enough for now. I hope these photos give you some idea of what it was like out there a week and a half ago. The next excellent low tide series is in mid-June. Snapshot Cal Coast will be in full swing then, so get out there if you can!