Death and Life at Point Lobos
April 8, 2021
Story by David Laws. Photos by Linda Abbey and the author.
I drove into Point Lobos State Reserve, looking forward to our first hike in this crown jewel of California state parks since the pandemic shutdown. My wife Jean and photographer friend Linda often worked together to capture images of the bird life of Monterey County. Today they planned to photograph the colony of Brandt’s cormorants that crowd nesting sites atop rugged islets at the southern tip of the reserve.
We parked at the Bird Island trailhead and mounted the steep stairway that leads to an observation platform at Pelican Point. The air was crisp and fresh with the scent of Monterey pine. Spring wildflowers, California poppies, aromatic blue blossom ceanothus, and sticky monkey flowers lined the path. Familiar sounds of the natural world, waves crashing against cliffs, and the melodious trill of a song sparrow deep in the forest lifted our spirits as we reconnected with this special place.
Harbor seals and their newborn pups lolled on the sand at the head of China Cove. As humans no longer intrude after steps down to the beach were destroyed in a winter storm, this protected inlet emerged as a popular birthing site. A mother and her pup gently touched noses: a vital bonding ritual as they learn to recognize each other’s scent on a crowded beach.
Our reverie stalled as we noticed five dark silhouettes circling high above the ridge beyond the cove. From their distinctive wobbling flight pattern, we recognized turkey vultures. Six more members of nature’s clean-up crew perched on the skeletal snag of a dead pine.
We followed the path that clings to a cliff edge overlooking Gibson Beach. Cypress-cloaked headlands of Yankee Point, where steep granite slopes of the coast range plunge into the ocean, peeked through clearing veils of morning mist. A raft of sea otters, two with young on their chests, bobbed amid kelp beds stirred by the swell.
As the path curved through low coastal scrub cover towards Bird Island, the object of the vultures’ attention was apparent. Immediately offshore, the flat top of a barren rocky ridge was densely packed with black, long-necked Brant’s cormorants. Busily attending to their skimpy kelp frond nests scattered randomly across the stony surface, they appeared unfazed by a commotion at the center of their colony.
Two turkey vultures paced around two other birds feasting on carrion from a pile of feathers. Through binoculars, we identified the corpse of a cormorant. Vultures are not known to attack a living bird so it could have died naturally or been hunted by a raptor. Owls, hawks, and peregrine falcons also frequent the island. After several minutes, one feeding vulture moved aside. Another stepped forward to take its turn as if waiting politely in line at a restaurant.
While the cormorants appeared oblivious to this spectacle, some pugnacious western gulls were more engaged. One of the circling vultures flew down to join the feast and was greeted by shrill squawking as a guardian gull tried to scare off the intruder.
As we watched this phase of the unforgiving cycle of nature play out before us, we noticed two black-crowned night heron fledgling chicks peering nervously from a ledge just across the narrow tidal channel. While a steep crumbling cliff separated from the mainland may be safe from four-footed predators, their rough nest of sticks tucked into the shadows looked preciously balanced above surging water. “How many survive their first flight from this perilous spot?”, we wondered.
Completing the loop trail led us back past China Cove. This time we lingered to watch the activity in the nursery. A harbor seal and her pup explored the clear shallow water lapping steadily onto the white sand beach. Others, heavy with child, patiently awaited their turn in the warming morning sun.
On the far side of the cove, a sudden tidal surge pushed a lone female sharply against the granite wall. A pinkish-brown swirl clouded the water around her. At first, I thought a sharp rock had injured her, but as the color dissipated, a tiny struggling creature emerged.
The mother urged her newborn pup towards the beach. As they cleared the water, the baby reached out for its first brush with the mother’s muzzle.
Safely ashore, they rested together, exhausted. Within minutes the pup began to feed.
Realizing that, in less than one hour and under a mile, we had witnessed a complete cycle of the delicate balance of nature that plays out daily across the preserve, we walked back to our car in silence. While sad to observe, the death of a cormorant gave life to the vultures. And nursed by its mother, the seal pup will grow strong and learn to swim and hunt. It, too, will play a crucial role in the entire ecosystem of death and life at Point Lobos.
Coda
A month after our visit, Jean received a diagnosis of terminal cancer. We managed several more walks in our favorite local spots, but this was our last time together at Point Lobos before she passed away at the end of the year. So, it is with a mix of emotions that intertwine love, sorrow, nostalgia, and reverence that I return to Point Lobos on a regular basis as a newly graduated California State Parks docent of Class 44.
This story was originally published in the July 2023 Point Lobos Docent Newsletter.
[Rev 8.8.23]
