Stalking the Condor
March 30, 1999
At about 60 mph, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a black strap waving in the wind beside the left rear-view mirror. Then something black sailed by my closed window. I watched it in the mirror as it hit the pavement, did a triple somersault, then a double and finally rolled to a stop near the center stripe. Horrors! Could it have been my binoculars? I glanced on the floor beside the driver’s seat to see if my binoculars were in their usual place. They were not! Oh no! My $800+ Swarovski 10X42 binoculars had just fallen onto the pavement at 60 mph – they would certainly be demolished. I made a quick U-turn to see if I could salvage some of the parts before an approaching auto could crunch them into smaller pieces. Nearing the binocular cadaver I could see that they were in only two parts. I rapidly grabbed them both and trotted off the highway as a California car whizzed by. One part was a rubber lens cover that was undamaged and could be easily reattached. Amazingly, the lenses were not broken or even scratched. Looking through the binoculars toward the Sierra Madre Mountains, I was again amazed. The binoculars were still in perfect focus and had apparently suffered no major ill effects from the crash. The focusing mechanism did not work as smoothly as before, but it worked. The rubber covering on the right eyepiece was split and the metal underneath was dented and scratched. The screw-out part of the eyepiece -- that adjusts for using eyeglasses -- was broken. It no longer could be screwed in or out, but it could be slid in or out, so I could still use the binoculars. It seemed inconceivable to me that such an apparently delicate instrument could fall about four feet, slam onto the pavement at 60 mph, bounce around a while and still work OK. My respect for the craftsmanship and durability of Swarovski binoculars grew considerably.
It had been a very good day. Pat and I had prepared for a full day of birding. With a lunch, snacks, water, bird books, binoculars and stuff, we drove leisurely from our RV home base at Lake Casitas by Ojai, CA (north of Ventura), across the Los Padres National Forest and into the Cayuma Valley. The hills and mountains were green due to the recent rains. Our 4-wheel-drive Honda CRV bounced and strained slowly up the steep, gravel road through Bates Canyon till it reached what the locals call “Hurricane Deck”-- the Sierra Madre Ridge. The road followed the ridge for about eight miles, providing some spectacular views to both the north and south. On particularly clear days it is possible to see both the Pacific Ocean and the Sierra Nevada Mountains from this ridge. On the day we were there, the sky was clear, the warming sun moderated the chilly mountain air, but the air was too humid for us to see the ocean. However, using binoculars, we could faintly see the snowy peaks of the Sierra Nevada far across the San Joaquin Valley.
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| Condor Country |
Finally, we reached McPherson Peak, which provided a view of Lion Canyon where releases of California Condors are routinely made. As you may remember, in 1986 all 27 remaining condors in the wild were captured and taken into breeding programs in hopes of preventing their extinction. The breeding program has been so successful that there have been eighteen releases back into the wilds beginning in 1992 and continuing to the latest releases of six birds on March 24, 1999. Besides the releases in Lion Canyon, there have been seven individuals released near Big Sur and eight birds atop the Hurricane Cliffs in Arizona. The total number of condors in the wild is now up to 56, with 91 remaining in captivity. According to a news release by the California Condor Recovery Program: “To give the young birds a better chance of surviving in the wild they have been undergoing power pole aversion training and staff from the Refuge Complex have been delivering stillborn calf carcasses to the Los Angeles Zoo to help the young birds develop carcass feeding skills. In addition, three older condors were placed into the flight pen with the six young birds so they can gain experience competing with older birds for food.”
Pat and I hoped to be able to see at least one of these condors in the wild. We scanned down into the canyons, across the valleys, and across the surrounding peaks for almost two hours. We saw Red-tailed Hawks, Ferruginous Hawks, Kestrels, Merlins, Ravens, Rufous-sided Towhees, White-crowned Sparrows, Cliff Swallows, Mountain Quail, Mountain Bluebirds, Horned Larks, Meadowlarks, Red-winged Blackbirds and assorted other birds – but no Condors. We ate our lunch, enjoyed the view and then started back down the mountain on the three-hour trip back to Ojai.
But we had one more chance to see condors. From the floor of the Cayuma Valley, we could see up into Lion Canyon. The American Birder’s Guidebook claims that sometimes condors can be seen from the valley if you scan up into the canyon. We scanned for a few minutes until our arms began to tire from holding up the binoculars. Then a fellow – who identified himself as Albert Johnston – drove up and in an old, yellow pickup truck and stopped to chat. “Lion Canyon was named by my father, Eugene L. Johnston Sr.” he claimed. “He was working for the U. S. Forest Service at the time and was riding his horse through the canyon. He saw a couple of Mountain Lions mating. His horse spooked and ran away, taking the rifle – still in its scabbard -- with him. My dad was left on foot with no way to defend himself against the lions. Fortunately, the lions decided not to attack him, but from that time on the Canyon has been called Lion Canyon.”
When I explained that we were searching for condors, he replied, “You are wasting your time trying to see condors from here, you can only see them up in the mountains.”
I told him that we had just come from the mountains and had seen no condors. Then I decided that Mr. Johnston had an interesting story to tell, so I laid my binoculars on the hood of our car and took out my notebook.
“When I was young, there were lots of condors here. But they died out because of lack of food -- not due to hunting, lead poisoning, flying into high lines and other causes claimed by the wildlife experts. However, one condor recently found some antifreeze where it had drained from an overheated auto in the town of Fillmore. It drank this stuff and died on the spot. The valley once held over 25,000 cattle – there are no more than 5000 here now. Thus, dead cattle no longer provide a reliable food source for the condors. There were also a great many sheep over in Button Willow that provided food for the condors. Now there are not many sheep and not even enough deer to feed the condors. The lions have eaten all the deer. Also, the Forest Service protected the forest from burning, so there is not enough food for deer now. I’ve killed deer up in the Salsbury potrero (high mountain meadow) and elsewhere in these mountains all my life, but now there are more hunters than deer. In my life, I have ridden over almost every square foot of these mountains. We watched as the wildlife folks captured the last 27 condors from the Hudson Ranch, which is high country at about 4000 feet elevation. They have had considerable success at breeding condors, but I doubt that condors will survive reintroduction because there is not enough food for them.”
We shook hands as we parted. Pat and I were now later than I had hoped and wished to avoid driving through the mountains in the dark. We had seen no wild condors, but what the heck -- wait till next time. In my hurry, I forgot all about having left my binoculars on the hood of the car and you know the rest of the story.
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