Category: readers’ wildlife videos

Readers’ wildlife photos

March 13, 2026 • 8:15 am

Abby Thompson, a UC Davis mathematician, is back with more photos (and a video!) from the intertidal of northern California. Abby’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge her photos by clicking on them.

Jellyfish!

I thought I’d throw some jellyfish into the lull between the great winter tides and the great summer ones.

The reproductive cycles of the tidepool creatures are wildly varied, with behaviors ranging from maternal (see Epiactis prolifera from my last post), chancy (see mussels), through incessant (see nudibranchs).   But for sheer baroque complication, I vote for the jellyfish.    Many who stroll on a beach will see the quivering gelatinous masses of jellyfish stranded by the tide, and the less fortunate will have encountered their stinging tentacles while in the water.  This describes, a little, how they get there.

There are several jellyfish species common on the Northern California beaches; here are some of them:

Aurelia labiata (Greater Moon Jelly):

Chrysaora fuscescens (Pacific sea nettle):

Chrysaora colorata (purple-striped sea nettle) These are big, about a foot across:

Another Chrysaora colorata (handsome creatures):

Genus Aequorea (crystal jelly):

Polyorchis haplus:

Scrippsia pacifica (giant bell jelly):

The Chrysaoras and Aurelia labiata are in the class Scyphozoa; the rest are in the class Hydrozoa.

For all of these, males and females get together in the same vicinity, and release eggs and sperm (see “chancy” above), which form little “planulae”.    Then things get complicated.     Because (usually) the planulae settle down and attach themselves to something, and become polyps.  Like these tiny things:

Genus Sarsia:

Hydrocoryne bodegensis:

But how do they get from here (e.g. something like Sarsia) to there (e.g. something like Polyorchis haplus)?   Well they don’t, always, and sometimes they don’t get from there to here, either, but here’s an illustration of the process when it goes through a “typical” complete cycle:

And in fact if you look closely at that photo of H. bodegensis, you can see a little medusa just budding off, circled in the photo below:

Here’s a video of a set of newly-formed “baby jellyfish” (they look excited) which swam into my microscope view.    I didn’t know what I was seeing, so don’t have a photo of the polyp from which they likely emerged.   This means I have no idea of the genus (or even the class- if these are Scyphozoa then these are really ephyrae which will turn into medusae).

There seem to be many species for which the complete reproductive  process is not documented –  for example, if you search for the polyp stage of Polyorchis haplus, the answer is that we don’t know what it is, nor where it can be found.

 

A final oddity of this elaborate reproductive process is the existence of the so-called “immortal” jellyfish. (not found in the cold waters of Northern California).  If damaged at the medusa phase, this one can revert to its earlier (genetically identical) polyp phase- and so on ad infinitum, apparently.  As though, when things go wrong in your life, you could go back to your childhood and try again.

I’m grateful for help with IDs from experts on inaturalist and elsewhere.    All mistakes are mine.

Readers’ wildlife photos

March 12, 2026 • 8:15 am

And we have more photos. Today’s come from Jan Malik, documenting the birds of Barnegut Inlet in New Jersey. Jan’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

My previous batch from the Barnegat Inlet covered geese and ducks. It’s time for some of the other coastal birds now.

Immature Double-crested Cormorant (Nannopterum auritum). In contrast to diving ducks, these birds have no buoyancy problem and submerge easily.

Common Loon (Gavia immer). Judging by the slightly pinkish gape at the base of its bill and the fuzzy transition between black and white, this is an immature bird that stays on coastal bay waters before maturing and returning to quiet inland lakes to breed:

Another loon, this one with a mangled crustacean that I suspect is an Atlantic blue crab (Callinectes sapidus). I wonder if a diving loon preferentially picks a freshly molted crab the way we select ripe fruit:

Not a great loon picture, but we can see enough of the prey’s fins to identify the fish as an Oyster Toadfish (Opsanus tau), a species in which males provide parental care to eggs and young. The fish was big and bony, so the loon struggled a bit to swallow it. That fish would be a terrible choice for performing the Fish Slapping Dance. For the loon, it would be preferable to swallow its catch underwater, because at the surface it may be stolen by gulls, who know where a bird has dived and circle above waiting for it to reappear:

A couple of Savannah Sparrows were hopping on the rocks. I suspect that this pale bird with very little yellow in its brow is an Ipswich Sparrow, a subspecies (Passerculus sandwichensis princeps) that breeds on the sand spit of Sable Island off Nova Scotia:

Three species of shorebirds are common in winter at the Barnegat Inlet, all quite similar at first glance in size and plumage, but each occupying a different ecological niche. First, the Ruddy Turnstones (Arenaria interpres), here trying to sleep—probably using only one half of their brain to watch for predators, in unihemispheric slow-wave sleep. Their bills are short, stubby, and slightly upturned, adapted for—just as their name suggests—turning over beach debris to search for invertebrates hiding underneath:

Next, the Dunlins (Calidris alpina). They feed, roost, and migrate in large flocks. Unlike Turnstones, their bills are long, slender, and sensitive, used for probing tidal mudflats for worms and crustaceans:

Last, there are the Purple Sandpipers (Calidris maritima). Their bills are more “general purpose” than those of the other two species. Their covert feathers do show a purple sheen in the right light:

Purple Sandpipers and Dunlins are not very afraid of people on their wintering grounds; they may rest a few meters from a quiet observer. But the slightest hint of danger can trigger the whole flock to take flight in an instant—only to land nearby a moment later:

Purple Sandpipers are adapted to rocky coasts, where they feed on mussels exposed during low tides and on other invertebrates. The undersides of their feet must have a texture that allows them to walk sure‑footed on slime‑covered, slippery rocks:

 They have also evolved Silly Walks:

A distant Harbor Seal (Phoca vitulina), a frequent sight in the Inlet, always seems to look at the jetty with disappointment when it notices that this prime haul‑out spot is occupied by people:

As I was about to leave, the colors of the sunset behind a distant house caught my attention, so I took a picture, thinking little of it. Only back home—rather like the character in Antonioni’s Blowup—did I realize that the picture hides a predator the sleeping shorebirds must be on guard against. To be honest, I can’t be sure this was a flesh‑and‑blood predator and not one made of polystyrene, but the impression remains:

Reader’s wildlife videos

February 19, 2026 • 8:15 am

Praise Ceiling Cat, fleas be upon him: we have received a couple of submissions to tide us over. Today biologist and artist Lou Jost, who works at Ecuador’s Ecominga Foundation, has contributed some lovely hummingbird videos.  Lou’s captions are indented, and you know how to enlarge YouTube videos:

The Americas are currently the only continents that have hummingbirds, though the oldest hummingbird-like fossils are actually from Europe. In today’s world the centers of hummingbird diversity are the mountains of Costa Rica and Panama, and the northern Andes of Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru. Ecuador alone has 137 species of hummingbirds, compared to only 15-17 hummingbird species regularly found in the US. I recently visited an Ecuadorian birding lodge (Sachatamia) in northwest Ecuador, with many hummingbird feeders. The chaotic swarm of hummingbirds surrounding these feeders gives a good impression of this diversity. Here are some phone videos I took over the course of a few minutes.

Left to right: three Andean Emeralds, (Uranomitra franciae; white throats, light blue crown iridescence), the aptly named White-necked Jacobin (Florisuga mellivora), another Andean Emerald (head down) and a Rufous-tailed Hummingbird (Amazilia tzacatl, pink beak and iridescent green throat), also initially head down). Then more Rufous-tailed Hummingbirds and a brief Brown Violetear (Colibri delphinae):

Booted Raquet-tail (Ocreatus underwoodii) and Andean Emerald:

Purple-bibbed Whitetip (Urosticte benjamini, white spot behind eye and in tail, iridescent purple throat), Booted Raquet-tail, second Purple-bibbed White tip. Then something else obscured by feeder:

Female Empress Brilliant (Heliodoxa imperatrix)?, female Violet-crowned Woodnymph (Thalurania colombica, blue shoulders), displaced by male Green-crowned Woodnymph (iridescent green throat and purple body) in turn displaced by Empress Brilliant, photobombed at end by tiny beelike woodstar species:

Green-crowned Woodnymph front, Fawn-breasted Brilliant  (Heliodoxa rubinoides, fawn breast, pink chest/throat patch) at rear, displaced by male Empress Brilliant,  cameos by White-necked Jacobin, Andean Emerald, and others.

Velvet-purple Coronet (Boissonneaua jardini):

Brown Violetear, Empress Brilliant, a woodstar species, and Andean Emerald:

No readers’ wildlife today

February 4, 2026 • 8:15 am

Yes, the much-feared situation has occurred: I have run out of reader’ wildlife photos. Perhaps readers have lost interest in either sending them in or seeing them, but it’s a sad day when there are no animals and plants to look at and learn about. If you have photos (and good ones), please send them along.

In the meantime, I’ll shortly post a new Jesus and Mo, which will have to do you for today.

I guess I’ll take a short nap.

Reader’s wildlife video

January 31, 2026 • 8:15 am

Praise Ceiling Cat: reader Tara Tanaka, photographer and videographer extrodinaire, has returned with an awesome video featuring both cats and d*gs (well, a bobcat and coyotes). Tara filmed it from her living room in Florida (Tara and her husband own a large tract of wetland).  Tara’s Flickr page is here and her Vimeo page is here.

Tara’s Vimeo notes, which assure us that this is genuine:

“A Bobcat’s Encounter with Two Coyotes (Not AI)”

We had seen one or two coyotes around 9:30 the last two mornings. Hoping they would return for a third day I got my camera ready in the living room to try to record them. About 9:00 my husband said he saw one, so I made some final adjustments for the lighting and began to search for something moving in the distance. When I finally centered the subject in the viewfinder, I said “I think I’m looking at a bobcat.” Almost immediately the cat stood up and as I panned with it I was shocked when two coyotes ran into the frame, one on each side of the cat. Enjoy the interactions between the two species and between the very bonded pair of coyotes. I believe the female is pregnant.

After I finished filming I just sat in disbelief that I had had the opportunity to record something so unique – and from my living room! I feel like I could have gone to Yellowstone and spent a month in the field and not witnessed an encounter like this. Because of the dramatic temperature difference between the thawing ground and the sun heating the brown grass, the waves of heat shimmer intensified as the sun got higher and you can see them rippling across the screen. Despite the extreme conditions, I was thrilled that I was able to record the interaction so clearly from 1000′ away, and through a double-paned window.

We should have a pond full of water with waders arriving to nest right now, however due to a severe drought that started over a year ago, the entire swamp is dry. Without water to allow our large alligators to patrol under the nests and protect them from predators, I’m afraid that our hundreds of waders that nest here every year will not feel safe and will likely nest elsewhere.

Filmed with a Panasonic GH6 + Nikon 500mm f2.8 lens. Since I filmed it from inside the house, I used the audio from a video I shot from the yard last year.

The bobcat and coyotes don’t seem to mind each other, though the bobcat eventually climbs partway up a tree. Be sure to enlarge the video and put the sound up to hear the birds singing.

Readers’ wildlife photos

January 6, 2026 • 8:35 am

This is it, folks: the end of the photo line—unless some readers step up to send in good wildlife pictures.

Today we have a diverse batch of photos from Richard Pieniakowski, but not much information about them though I suspect they’re from British Columbia. Richard’s short captions and IDs are indented (I found the binomials), and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

Bald Eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus):

American Black Bear (Ursus americanus):

Belted kingfisher (Megaceryle alcyon):

Castle Rock:

“Caught in a moment of time” [read the bus sign]:

Common garter snake (Thamnophis sirtalis):

Closeup of common garter snake:

Epic sky:

Grasshopper:

Great blue heron (Ardea herodias):

If readers don’t send in more photos, I’ll shoot this duck*:

 

 

*Just kidding; it’s an AI drawing.

Readers’ wildlife photos

December 29, 2025 • 8:15 am

Today we have some plant photos sent by reader Amy Perry.  Amy’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge her photos by clicking on them.

These photos were taken with my iPhone 11 in December of 2025 in the Torrey Pines State Nature Reserve Extension, except where otherwise indicated. I was pleasantly surprised to find enough flowers in bloom to photograph to send to you.

The Torrey pine (Pinus torreyana), for which the state nature reserve is named, is a rare pine species in California. It is a critically endangered species growing only in coastal San Diego County, and on Santa Rosa Island, offshore from Santa Barbara. The Torrey pine is endemic to the California coastal sage and chaparral ecoregion. Like all pines, its needles are clustered into fascicles that have a particular number of needles for each pine species; in the Torrey pine there are five needles in each fascicle, as in Photo 1 (taken outside the reserve in December 2024). Trees near the ocean are battered by strong winds into odd, twisty, even grotesque, shapes, as in the second photo. The third photo shows an upright tree, growing in the reserve extension, which is a separate area a few blocks from the ocean.

The species epithet torreyana is named for John Torrey, an American botanist, after whom the coniferous genus Torreya is also named. The Torrey pine is protected by a city tree ordinance in Del Mar, near the native habitat, and construction projects and residents require a permit for its removal.

California buckwheat, or flat-topped buckwheat (Eriogonum fasciculatum), is a keystone species for sagebrush scrub ecosystems. It has been used as a food crop and medicinal plant by various Native American tribes. It’s a nectar host for several butterflies and a larval host for several others. Often the compact, drab dark brown balls of winter (Photo 4) coexist on the same plant as, and contrast with the fluffy, delicate white and pink blossoms (second photo) left over from spring, summer, and fall.

White sage (Salvia apiana) leaves are thickly covered in hairs that trigger oil glands; when rubbed oils and resins are released, producing a strong aroma. The flowers are very attractive to bees, which is described by the specific epithet, apiana. Young leaves start off green and turn white as they get older.

Also called bee sage or sacred sage, white sage is deeply rooted in the cultures and lifeways of indigenous communities of southern California and northern Baja, the only region where this sage naturally occurs in the world. Over-harvest of wild Californian white sage populations is a concern held by many Native American groups and conservationists. The destruction of white sage has become a focus of the Tongva Taraxat Paxaavxa Conservancy.

California aster (Symphyotrichum chilense) sports petite flowers in subtle shades of blue and lavender. I see it in those colors and in white. (Other flowers usually in blue or lavender sometimes occur in white in Indiana, where I live.) Butterflies and moths are attracted to the nectar. California aster, also called coast aster and Pacific aster, is a host plant for several species of both insects. Birds eat the seeds after blooming. Despite its scientific name, it does not occur in Chile:

Laurel sumac (Malosma laurina) is named “laurel” because the foliage is reminiscent of bay laurel but it is not in that plant family. It is a key plant in coastal sage scrub and chaparral, and the berries (second photo, October 2025) are appreciated by songbirds, especially warblers. It is sensitive to cold and tolerates extended freezing conditions poorly. Orange growers in the early history of southern California used to pick places to plant their oranges based on where laurel sumac was growing because this indicated it would not get too cold for oranges:

Telegraph weed (Heterotheca grandiflora) is a pioneer species and roadside weed even where it is native. This is a tall, bristly, hairy plant and looks weedy, but I think it’s cool because it’s unusual and spectacular. Sometimes exceeding a meter in height, as in the second photo (December 2024), its resemblance to a telegraph pole gives it this name. Another name is silk-grass goldenaster:

California sagebrush (Artemisia californica) has an aromatic fragrance and threadlike silvery green leaves. The silvery appearance is due to the numerous fine hairs on the leaves. Although it is called sage because of its aroma, it is really a member of the sunflower family. An amusing name for it is Cowboy cologne. Here it is growing in the middle of California brittlebush or California bush sunflower (Encelia californica). The dried resin of this plant can be burned for incense; the Spanish common name for this plant is incienso. Like many desert plants, both of these are very sprawling and unruly-looking: