Guest author Blanca Villalobos is a certified UC Riverside Palm Desert Center California Naturalist, and writes about the South Coast Biogregion for California Biodiversity Week 2021. You can follow more of Blanca's work at www.blancasvillalobos.com or on Instagram at @blanca.s.villalobos. 

Tecolotlán & El Totole, nahuatl names given to the lands from which my parents were raised in: their origin meaning place of owls and turkey hen, respectively. My parents are therefore birds, who eventually migrated north in the 1970s across colonial borders until settling as guests on Cahuilla & Yuhaviatam/Maarenga'yam ancestral lands to raise their family. I grew up in the San Gorgonio Pass in Southern California surrounded by the Peninsular & Transverse Mountain Ranges, craving stories about my ancestors, cultural practices and post Mexican revolution folk tales. Lucky for me I was blessed with amazing storytellers for parents who compliment oneanother's approach to storytelling through performance & wit.

In 2018 I landed my first environmental job working at a local nature preserve after years of social work & organizing. Due to this new field of work, I quickly learned to drive slowly through the desert canyon out of concern for wildlife like bighorn sheep, rattlesnakes and the usual gambel's quail. Never did I expect to spot & identify a bird unknown to me except from the stories I had heard over the years from my dad.

On my way out of the canyon one evening, I spotted something drab & not much larger than a robin in the middle of the road. Red glowing eyes fixated on my car, I approached the relative slowly until it haphazardly took flight only to quickly rest their body on the asphalt once again. I smiled upon realizing who they were: un tapacaminos, one who covers roads. I grew up hearing my dad tell animated stories about this nightjar, how he'd be traveling in Jalisco and how he'd come across them on his path “¡No se mueven! They don't move!” he would say grinning.

Photo by Andy Wraithmell

Still in my car, I noticed that the illumination from my headlights helped this nocturnal bird locate their dinner: a plethora of insects under a crepuscular desert sky. Once they had their fill they eventually flew out of my path, allowing me to reflect on the metaphor of their Spanish common name while I made my way out to the Coachella Valley.

It is critical to understand the connection between the migratory paths of these birds across North America with those of my parents and other migrants. Every year I look forward to seeing the monarch butterflies journey between Canada & Mexico and just recently I became aware of the black bear in my neighborhood that travels up and down the Sand to Snow National Monument for water & refuge. What I would like folks to consider during this year's California Biodiversity Day is a compassionate & intersectional reflection on the absurdity that is a border for all living beings.

With love & in solidarity,
Blanca S. Villalobos, they/she

Photo by Rolf Nussbaumer Minden

September 4-12, 2021 is California Biodiversity Week. Join us in celebrating the unique biodiversity and renewing our commitment to stewarding the state's incredible natural heritage! During the Week, CalNat is posting blogs authored by members of our community, ending in our September 14th CONES event from noon-1:00 PM. Be sure to also check out a list of activities and resources online from the CA Natural Resources Agency!

Guest author Chloe Van Loon is a certified Grassroots Ecology California Naturalist, and writes about the Mojave Desert Biogregion for California Biodiversity Week 2021. You can follow more of Chloe's writings posted on Chloe Van Loon's Nature Blog.

For most of the past year and half I have nomadically roamed around California, chasing nature's “blooms”. That meant spending the winter in Mendocino County finding fungi, and springtime in the Bay Area wandering around for wildflower displays. Between these two Northern California spots, Joshua Tree was my home. For two months my husband and I searched for flowering annuals, prickly cacti, quick-footed reptiles, jumping rodents, and magnificent nocturnal moths.

Many California Naturalists may already know the desert ecosystems of California are incredibly diverse. I was well aware of this myself before spending time in the Sonoran and Mojave deserts. But a weekend trip really isn't enough, a week isn't enough, and two months isn't enough to fully grasp the ecology of desert ecosystems! I think it takes multiple years of visiting at different times. I think it's equally important to visit during a super bloom year as it is to visit in a non-super bloom year to see the diversity of species that have adapted to the extreme temperature fluctuations, long dry spells and the winter rain deluges.

This year, 2021 wasn't a super bloom year as the winter rainfall was pretty poor for much of the state. So we had to get smart about where and how to search for angiosperms and accompanying insect visitors. One resource that was super valuable was Tom Chester's Bloom Reports (tchester.org) for the Anza-borrego Desert, located about an hour and half south of Palm Springs. Unlike the alpine meadows of the Sierra mountains where at peak bloom my senses are overwhelmed with color, textures, and scents, iNat-ing the California deserts is a treasure hunt: it takes time for the human eye to hone in on the often cryptic and small plants amongst the desert floor. Having a general sense of the area's plants before heading out for a hike really helped in order to spot the common plants, rarities and lifers. Fellow California Naturalist, Colin Barrows' iNaturalist observations were also very helpful study tools. His Coachella Valley Wildflower iNaturalist Project was a great photo reference source. Projects like these are a fantastic resource and fortunately exist in similar forms all across California. Doing your homework by brushing up on what's been recently observed before heading out is totally worth it. You might be surprised how diverse the desert is.

Depending on the time of year - really even the week! - will dictate what might be blooming. Will the common Brittlebush (Encelia farinosa) still be producing its wonderful yellow compound flowers? Will my personal favorite the Desert Globemallow (Sphaeralcea ambigua) finally produce its glorious apricot orange petals? Will the gorgeous Sand Blazingstar (Mentzelia involucrata) have Sweat Bees visiting? But how will these plants, associated insects, and wildlife that use them for food or shelter cope with rising temperatures, altered rain regimes, and all the other compounding effects of climate change? A recently published study by Hantson et al. (2021) from UC Irvine suggests climate change is to blame for recent “strong” declines in vegetation cover, and these hardy dryland ecosystems are more at risk than previously thought to the effects of climate change. Oh no.

The Western Joshua Tree (Yucca brevifolia), the charismatic, long-limbed Dr. Suess-like trees of the Mojave desert, are the first plant species reviewed by California's Endangered Species Act to attribute climate change as a primary threat. Among other reasons like habitat loss, developments, and invasive species, the Western Joshua Tree's habitat may be almost totally gone by 2100. What other vulnerable species should be citing their primary threat to existence as climate change? For myself it's hard to imagine that any native California species escapes the negative effects of human induced climate change. Throughout my time in the desert I saw a Ladder-backed Woodpecker checking out the flowers of the Joshua Tree, Northern Mockingbird and Loggerhead Shrikes perched up high while LeConte's Thrasher and Gambel's Quails run between its shadows. Turn over a fallen branch and you might find beetles or weevils scurrying on the ground, or Giant Water Bugs crawling around if the branch had fallen in a creek. How will all these species fare with altered or absent Joshua Tree populations?

How will the biodiversity of California's desert's change in the near to distant future? Is the future only one round of Ocotillo's flowering? Will the Desert Bighorn sheep at lower elevations become locally extinct like Eeps et al. (2004) predicted? Both these species along with the other incredible flora and fauna of California's deserts evolved over time to produce the mosaic of biodiversity we see there today. How climate change is going to change this assemblage is perhaps predictable for some species, but I'm sure surprising for others. So I encourage everyone to visit, learn and appreciate how the species you see while visiting the deserts of California, and to ponder what adaptations they evolved over time to flourish there, and most importantly what you can do to keep it thriving in perpetuity.

September 4-12, 2021 is California Biodiversity Week. Join us in celebrating the unique biodiversity and renewing our commitment to stewarding the state's incredible natural heritage! During the Week, CalNat is posting blogs authored by members of our community, ending in our September 14th CONES event from noon-1:00 PM. Be sure to also check out a list of activities and resources online from the CA Natural Resources Agency!

Resources:

Hantson, Stijn, et al. "Warming as a driver of vegetation loss in the Sonoran Desert of California." Journal of Geophysical Research: Biogeosciences 126.6 (2021): e2020JG005942.

EPPS, C. W., McCULLOUGH, D. R., WEHAUSEN, J. D., BLEICH, V. C., & L. RECHEL, J. (2004). Effects of Climate Change on Population Persistence of Desert-Dwelling Mountain Sheep in California. Conservation Biology, 18(1), 102–113. doi:10.1111/j.1523-1739.2004.00023.x

Center for Biological Diversity. “Court Upholds Protection for California's Western Joshua Trees.” Center for Biological Diversity, Center for Biological Diversity, 22 Feb. 2021, biologicaldiversity.org/w/news/press-releases/court-upholds-protection-for-californias-western-joshua-trees-2021-02-22/.

Olalde, Mark. “Joshua Trees Can Be Legally Protected in California, Court Rules.” The Desert Sun, Palm Springs Desert Sun, 25 Feb. 2021, www.desertsun.com/story/news/environment/2021/02/24/joshua-trees-can-legally-protected-court-rules/4552210001/.

Guest author Siera Nystrom is a certified UC Merced Vernal Pools and Grassland Reserve California Naturalist, and writes about the Sacramento and San Joaquin Biogregions for California Biodiversity Week 2021. You can follow more of Siera's writings posted on Notes from a California Naturalist.

September marks the beginning of a great awakening across California's Great Central Valley. As summer fades quietly into the warm, golden tints of autumn, long-absent birds begin to return, filling sleepy wetlands with sound and color and motion, the throbbing pulse of life.

Scattered up and down the Central Valley, carefully engineered wetlands, many of which are managed by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service as National Wildlife Refuges, provide pockets of protected habitat, humble but precious remnants of what was once an extensive system of freshwater marshes, sloughs and riparian corridors, linked together within a mosaic of arid upland habitats stretching the length of the Valley. 

Native Yokut people, who have long called this beautiful valley their home, make wise use of the natural abundance found here, their lives intertwined with and dependent on the bounty of the wetlands. Tule reeds, which grow in the still, freshwater marshes and sloughs once so characteristic of this region, provide plentiful food and fiber, while the marshes themselves afford valuable habitat for a seasonal abundance of waterfowl, a rich and reliable food source for the Yokut. 

The majority of the Central Valley's freshwater marsh habitat has long since disappeared – and with the wetland, her people. Diked and drained, paved and plowed beyond recognition during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the once abundant freshwater marshes of the Valley vanished at the hand of progress. 

Like the coming of the first autumn rains, the mid-twentieth century once again brought change to the Valley's wetlands: change and hope. Through the Herculean efforts of both government and private organizations, with the cooperation of conservation-minded landowners, wetland restoration began in earnest. 

Three quarters of a century later, the Central Valley wetlands of today are a far cry from the wild places they once were before European settlers arrived. Though highly fragmented and intensively managed, freshwater marshes in the Central Valley persist as functional blocks of priceless habitat for the wide array of plants and animals that rely on them. And, most importantly, they are protected in perpetuity.

Though the damage to Central Valley wetlands can never be undone, it can be somewhat mitigated: water can be redirected to fill dry sloughs and sinks, native plants can be regrown. The tules themselves breathe new life into rehabilitated wetlands, drawing wildlife into their sheltering thickets. Migratory birds are drawn by instinct to the mild winter climate of the Central Valley, following ancient flyways to return each autumn to their ancestral overwintering grounds. 

Yes, hope remains for the diverse assemblage of species that rely on Valley wetland habitats.

A cursory glance across the Central Valley landscape from the highway belies its true value.  What the casual observer sees are rural communities, sprawling towns and cities, and the intensive farming operations of one of the most productive agricultural regions in the U.S.  But tucked away, hidden within the rigid patchwork blocks of almond orchards and corn fields, are the sinuous curves of meandering sloughs and marshes, painstakingly carved out of the landscape and set aside for the birds – and for the future. 

During the short, gray days of winter, waterfowl overwhelm the wetlands: ducks and geese swirl through the air like avian confetti, and blanket open water like drifts of snow; Tundra Swans glide through dense tule fog like apparitions, emissaries from the Arctic. 

With the coming of spring, the animated chatter of Marsh Wrens, buzzing notes of Song Sparrows and rollicking songs of Common Yellowthroats fill wetlands with a joyous chorus, the sound of life reveling in a landscape that has suddenly cast off her somber winter tones in exchange for vibrant green finery. 

But spring is fleeting, and all at once Valley wetlands are plunged into the heat of yet another seemingly endless summer, the lush growth of April rapidly fading to the dry, muted shades of August. Pools of water shrink before drying completely to reveal basins of cracked mud.  All is still and quiet in the wetland, save the soft droning of dragonfly wings and the rustling of dry reeds in a hot breeze. 

After sleeping through the long, dry days of summer, tule marshes awaken in the autumn with the return of countless millions of birds, from raptors and songbirds, to waterfowl and shorebirds. And with them come perhaps the most iconic Central Valley bird of them all, the Sandhill Crane. 

From late September through the end of March, these elegant, three-foot tall birds grace Central Valley wetlands with their stately presence, bestowing on the tule marshes a certain dignity that is lacking in their absence. Large flocks of Sandhill Cranes spend the winter months in the gold-and-gray landscape of Central Valley marshes, dancing and grazing in fields of grain grown especially for them. In a scene that has remained unchanged for countless generations, trailing skeins scrawl across the sky, silhouetted against the sunset as the cranes fly in for the night, seeking refuge in the wetlands. 

With autumn on the way again, the marshes know that change is coming: change and hope. Slowly, quietly, imperceptibly at first, the seasons begin to shift. Morning mist lies heavily over the water; a cool breeze stirs; cottonwood leaves fade from green to gold. With any luck, the autumn rains begin. 

And once again, the birds return to this special place, the place their ancestors have relied on for millennia. Once again, the cranes' bugling cries sound across foggy marshes, haunting echoes of the prehistoric heart and soul of the Great Central Valley. 

 September 4-12, 2021 is California Biodiversity Week. Join us in celebrating the unique biodiversity and renewing our commitment to stewarding the state's incredible natural heritage! During the Week, CalNat is posting blogs authored by members of our community, ending in our September 14th CONES event from noon-1:00 PM. Be sure to also check out a list of activities and resources online from the CA Natural Resources Agency!

The California Biodiversity Collaborative correctly identifies “engage and empower” as one of four key strategies for biodiversity conservation. Together with “knowledge,” “protection, “and “restoration,” the state seeks to put people at the center of its strategy to protect the genes, species and ecosystems that sustain our society and economy. The emphasis on engagement and empowerment is well founded as it is one of the most challenging but necessary elements of the strategy. The UC California Naturalist program provides an excellent example of how the state can engage and empower more people to support this important statewide initiative.

Biodiversity conservation can't be accomplished without mobilizing a good percentage of the 40 million people in the state whose daily choices and actions directly affect biodiversity. The decentralized nature of biodiversity means that its conservation requires the participation from many - not just elected officials, agency personnel, and scientists. The challenge of engaging a large percentage of the state's population in any form of normative behavior has been illustrated nicely by the COVID-19 pandemic. Knowledge and information alone will not bring about changes in behavior. The experience of the UC California Naturalist program suggests a few approaches that may help catalyze meaningful public engagement and empowerment: 1) transformative learning experiences; 2) participation in locally relevant efforts, and 3) building relationships and cultivating a shared identity that reinforces and sustains participation.

Many of our course participants describe their experience in their California Naturalist course as something that “opened their eyes” or “gave them a whole new way of viewing the environment around them.” Talented instructors, hands-on learning experiences, and opportunities for reflection – such as journaling – help participants critically examine long held assumptions and beliefs and rethink old habits. These changes are primed and amplified when we experience disrupting, disorienting, and discrepant events such as record breaking wildfires, extreme weather events, and pandemics. At the end of their course, California Naturalists don't simply walk away with new knowledge and a certificate. With new eyes, they see the world differently, with new beliefs they understand their environment differently, and with new skills, they contribute in new ways. The manifestation of these changes is often in the form of increased volunteer service.

Engagement is another important part of the California Naturalist learning experience. Every California Naturalist completes an eight-hour volunteer service project and a class participatory science project. These projects combine learning with service, and typically focus on locally relevant issues that are important to the individual naturalist or community. Projects include everything from participation in bioblitzes, to designing native pollinator gardens, to removing invasive species, to supporting environmental education efforts. These experiences not only support learning, they often support scientific research, and in many cases they result in California Naturalists reaching and engaging others.

While engagement is important, sustaining that engagement is even more important. The California Naturalist program doesn't require volunteer service hours from its naturalists. Instead, it seeks to incentivize engagement by building a shared culture and identity. By promoting volunteer service opportunities, by celebrating the success of our naturalists and network partners, by building and inclusive and diverse community, and by promoting lifelong learning through convenings and other continuing education opportunities, the California Naturalist program advances a culture of conservation for all.

The California Naturalist program supports the mission and efforts of the California Biodiversity Collaborative. Our tag-line “Discovery, Action, and Stewardship” alludes to the importance of transformative learning, engagement, and empowerment. Together with our decentralized network of over 55 partners around the state, we believe our program is a model for advancing the goals of the California Biodiversity Collaborative.

 September 4-12, 2021 is California Biodiversity Week. Join us in celebrating the unique biodiversity and renewing our commitment to stewarding the state's incredible natural heritage! During the Week, CalNat is posting blogs authored by members of our community, ending in our September 14th CONES event from noon-1:00 PM. Be sure to also check out a list of activities and resources online from the CA Natural Resources Agency!