Stealing Condor Eggs (1899)

The San Francisco Call September 03, 1911An illustration originally published in the San Francisco Call newspaper in 1911.

“CALIFORNIA CONDOR
A RARE BIRD WHOSE EGGS ARE VALUED AT $18,000 A DOZEN

It is not generally known that among the fads of the day the collecting of birds’ eggs is one that interests the cultured and wealthy, and one that may be very expensive to indulge in, while it affords a mild recreation to thousands of individuals of moderate means.”

Fort Worth Gazette, December 28, 1895

American newspapers in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries chronicled the exploits of men raiding condor nests in the mountain ranges of California to take eggs as trophy souvenirs and to sell. Eighteen thousand dollars in 1895, adjusted for inflation, equates to over $2 million dollars today.

Many of these newspapers remarked on the dire plight of condors and their declining population and some predicted their inevitable extinction. Yet, ironically, in the same stories, they spun romantic yarns about the heroic adventures of nest raiders.

“Why are the eggs of the California condor so valuable?” an egg raider is quoted as asking in an article titled, “Hunt for a Condor’s Egg,” which was published in the New York Sun in 1900. “Because the birds are almost extinct now,” he answered, “and will be wholly extinct in less than ten years.” The story states that the eggs were worth “$1000 or more each to collectors” and it relates his planned excursion into the Sierra Nevada Mountains in search of condor nests to plunder.

Perhaps most puzzling of all is the fact that some of the most noted egg raiders were ornithologists and zoologists. In other words, they were scholars and scientists one might think would have been more concerned with the preservation of the species rather than trophy hunting and profiteering, actions which obviously would only serve to help drive the California condor closer to extinction.

In a spiraling chain of deadly events that propelled its own momentum, as the California condor became rarer, the value of its eggs increased further incentivizing the taking of yet more eggs. With such remarkable profit as a lure, and virtually no laws or social mores protecting condors of the time, it’s a wonder how the giant vultures survived as well as they did through these precarious times.

California condor nest cave National tribune November 14, 1895California condor chick National tribune, November 14, 1895Illustrations originally published in National Tribune in 1895 accompanying a story about the taking of a condor egg.

California condor San Bernardino Daily Arizona Silver Belt, June 04, 1908A photo of men climbing in the San Bernardino Mountains “to capture a young condor.” It was originally published in the Arizona Silver Belt in 1908 accompanying the following blurb:

“Among birds threatened with extinction is the condor of California, a very rare species long hunted on account of its plumage and becoming rarer every year. Before long the condor will be harder to find than the epyornis of Madagascar and the dodo. Its eggs are very rare and are valued at from $250 to $300, not to speak of the risks run in securing them. William L. Finley, president of the Oregon Audubon society, has had many thrilling experiences in the San Bernardino mountains studying the condor at close range and photographing the birds. In this picture the scientist and his assistant are shown climbing to a dizzying height to capture a young condor.”

San Roque Canyon, Santa Ynez MountainsSan Roque Canyon, Santa Ynez Mountains.

In a previous entry on this blog, Desperate Fight with Condors: Narrow Escape of Santa Barbara Man (1899), a newspaper story about the taking of a condor egg from a cave in the Santa Ynez Mountains of Santa Barbara was shared. It features two men, Frank Ruiz and Fred Forbush.

The excerpt below represents a select portion of the official record of this incident, as taken from the book authored by Sanford R. Wilbur, “Nine Feet from Tip to Tip.” The excerpt is shared here with express permission from Mr. Wilbur, who led the U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service’s California condor research and recovery program from 1969 to 1981.

Visit his Website, Condor Tales, for further information. An entire chapter in “Nine Feet from Tip to Tip” is dedicated to egg collecting including in the canyons of the Santa Ynez Mountains. Frank Ruiz, Mr. Wilbur told me, took two eggs “apparently both out of San Roque.”

As an aside, the mention below of the work performed by Frank Ruiz and Fred Forbush for the Pacific Improvement Company, in order to supply the Hope Ranch community with water, ties-in with a previous post on this blog regarding water from a well bored into San Roque Canyon used to maintain Laguna Blanca Lake in Hope Ranch.

San Roque Canyon from Laguna Blanca in Hope RanchSan Roque Canyon as seen from Laguna Blanca in Hope Ranch.

RECORD NUMBER: 32
DATE: 17 April 1899
LOCATION: San Roque Canyon, Santa Barbara County, California
COLLECTOR: Frank F. Ruiz and Fred Forbush
CURRENT LOCATION: Museum of Comparative Zoology (Cambridge,
Massachusetts)

HISTORY: Frank Ruiz and Fred Forbush, employees of the Pacific Improvement
Company, were surveying in San Roque Canyon near Montecito, California,
preparatory to developing a water supply for Hope Ranch. Two condors flying in the canyon 17 April 1899 attracted their attention, and they followed the birds to the nest
site. W. Lee Chambers (Santa Monica, California) apparently purchased the egg from
Ruiz, then sold it to John E. Thayer (Lancaster, Massachusetts). The Thayer collection
eventually was secured by the Museum of Comparative Zoology (Cambridge,
Massachusetts), where the egg is currently.

COMMENTS: The Chambers data slip accompanying this egg gives the collection date
as 13 June 1899. However, a published account that describes the taking of the egg and
gives the date as 17 April 1899, was prepared by the author 2 May 1899 (Redington
1899).

The Chambers data slip located San Roque Canyon in the San Rafael Mountains.
Actually, it is on the south slope of the Santa Ynez Mountains, which are separated
from the San Rafaels by the canyon of the Santa Ynez River.

“On April 17, 1899, an egg of the California Condor was taken in San Roque canon,
near Santa Barbara, by F. Ruiz, a surveyor in the employ of the Pacific Improvement
Co., who, with a party, was doing some work in the canon. His attention was first
attracted by seeing a pair of the birds flying about, and it occurred to him that there
might possibly be a nest in the vicinity…. He and a companion named Forbush
proceeded up the canon, and finally noticed a cave on a high cliff some 150 feet above
the creek, which they managed to reach with some difficulty. From the top Ruiz was
enabled to look over the edge a short distance into the cave, where he saw the egg on
the floor of the cave, with one of the birds crouched on the floor beside the nest, which
consisted of a few twigs of brush and some sand that had evidently blown into the cave
from the edge of the cliff… Then Ruiz clambered down into the cave without the aid of a
rope… The egg was perfectly fresh and measured 4 3-10 x 2 6-10 inches and was a
trifle deeper in color than those I have seen illustrated.”
. . .
“Nest was located upon a high rock in a cliff and was made of twigs, brush, and other
coarse material.” Added statement by Chambers: “The above statement about the nest
is probably literally true as the nest was on a brushy side of the mountain and certain
sticks and grasses had doubtlessly fallen there as has been the case in other instances.
The above date given for the taking of the egg is the latest of any eggs I have record of
yet as the dates heretofore have run from Feb. 17 to May 25 (32 eggs).”

Related Posts:

Condor in a Cage: Time Line of Tradegy | Condor Point |Condor Feather | Whiteacre Peak, Fossilized Bones, Cougar Prints and Condors | California Condor Photos

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Feeding A Scrub Jay

We’ve befriended a scrub jay.

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Life and Death in a Creek

creek poolMurky and mossy, slow-flowing summertime creek.

With the southern Los Padres National Forest currently undergoing its characteristic seasonal broil, and being too brutally hot and dry for hiking many miles, there are a few cooler, less visited nooks I like to retreat to.

While most of the rest of the forest at this time of year can seem eerily quiet and largely devoid of life other than plants, bothersome flies and ticks, this place here is teeming with creatures large and small.

western pond turtle (2)Western pond turtle

wild roseWild rose

crawdad creekCrawdad

mountain lionDead mountain lion in the mouth of a shallow cave beside the creek.

Native Steelhead Trout creekA decent sized native southern steelhead, an endangered species, swimming several feet below the surface, as seen from atop a boulder overlooking the creek.

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Pit Viper On Arroyo Burro Trail

chumash bedrock mortarChumash bedrock mortars in Barger Canyon below Arroyo Burro Trail.

Arroyo Burro Trail purportedly follows an historic Chumash Indian route over the Santa Ynez Mountains linking the Santa Barbara coastal plain to the Santa Ynez Valley. In the foothills below the trail can be found a number of bedrock mortars, including in Barger Canyon and several in and around San Roque Canyon. It is, along with Jesusita Trail, one of the first hiking trails I explored as a kid.

cloudsClouds over Santa Ynez Mountains.

“If one has driven a car over many years, as I have, nearly all reactions have become automatic. One does not think about what to do. Nearly all the driving technique is deeply buried in a machine-like unconscious.”

—John Steinbeck Travels with Charlie In Search of America (1980)

Steinbeck describes in a simple, specific example a general universal experience. With enough practice many activities become second nature. It’s what author Laurence Gonzales has described as “automated (unthinking) action.”

In his book, Deep Survival, Gonzales discusses how the human mind develops “mental models” of the world based on personal experience, and how these models can unconsciously shape if not control one’s actions.

Mental models enable us to navigate through the complexity of daily life in an efficient manner, because we can act and complete tasks without having to waste time thinking about all the sophisticated intricacies involved in making them happen. In an article for National Geographic Adventure Gonzales echoes Steinbeck:

“Most people, for example, have a complex model for driving that allows them to do so while talking on the phone and drinking coffee. Once models are established, they require no thought. …This system uses our previous experience to prescribe our behavior in new situations.”

Arroyo Burro TrailA view southeastward down the crest of the Santa Ynez Mountains overlooking east fork San Antonio Creek canyon through which Arroyo Burro Trail passes, a heavy marine layer covering Santa Barbara and Pacific Ocean below.

Whether driving a car or walking, as with with much else in life, the mind builds complex road maps allowing us to act automatically based on acquired knowledge from previous experiences. In an earlier post (Sage Hill to Santa Cruz Guard Station) I reflect on hiking in that context in response to the Steinbeck quote:

Along certain stretches of the thin winding dirt ribbon leading me to my destination, I seem to slip into a liminal realm between conscious states. I follow mindlessly the path before me. Walking on autopilot, a machine, I plod along the trail by rote as my mind flies through an abstract wilderness of thought and memory.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I’m describing what it’s like to act within the framework of a mental model. But while this quirk of the mind enables effortless ease of action it can also insidiously blind a person to danger and potential threats. While hiking the Arroyo Burro Trail recently I nearly stepped on a rattlesnake because I was mindlessly following the footpath on autopilot.

Arroyo Burro Trail Barger PeakTrail leading down into the canyon.

The section of singletrack trail I was hiking near the top of Arroyo Burro Trail is slightly overgrown with grass and scrub, and although the tread itself is a well-beaten wide furrow, it’s hard to see in some places as it disappears underneath the overhanging plants.

Yet even though the path isn’t too visible in certain spots, I was charging along looking around more at my surroundings than where exactly I was stepping. It was the march of an experienced hiker, of somebody, anybody, that’s walked away innumerable hours on mountain trails over the course of several decades.

I couldn’t always see where I was stepping, yet I wasn’t always looking and I hardly if at all slowed my pace. I was guided by a well-established mental model enabling automated unthinking action and taking for granted that my feet would fall on a trail I was hardly looking at.

Arroyo Burro Trail East Fork San Antonio CreekUpper San Antonio Creek canyon.

Arroyo Burro Trail southTrail towards the creek.

As I walked passed a clump of brush some creature bolted through the fallen leaves and tangle of dead branches causing gravel to slide down slope toward the creek. Whatever it was sounded big, but I quickly conclude it was probably a rabbit or some other small furry animal. I slowed my pace, but kept walking, looking for the animal as it loudly scurried away. The noise ceased then erupted again causing me to stop short and peer into the brush.

I didn’t see anything and without thinking, or looking where I was stepping, I resumed my march. I took a couple of light, short steps still looking toward the creek before glancing back around, and leaning into my walk with earnest strides, only to see myself plant a foot about twelve inches from the head of a pit viper lying across the trail.

For the rest of the afternoon I hiked far more slowly and nervously, afraid of stepping in every little spot obscured by shadows and brush, wondering if even on clear sections of trail there was a rattler hidden in the trailside weeds waiting to strike.

At one point I stepped on a dead branch half buried in dried leaves, which shifted in the mulch enough life a snake to make me physically jump. I felt a deeply ingrained fear shoot through my body for a split second and it actually felt like a snake squirming through my innards, somewhat similar to an electric shock where one can feel it enter a finger, for example, and exit some other part of the body. I had to take a deep breath to rid the terrible constricted feeling from my chest.

Rattlesnake Santa Ynez MountainsRattlesnake on the trail.

I had been paying attention to everything else but where I was stepping. Right in the midst of feeling totally in control in an activity I’ve done all my life, so much so that I don’t even have to focus on it, and I was jarred back to attention and ripped from a thoughtless complacency that nearly earned me a frightening trip to the hospital. The feeling of control was an illusion.

Most accidents are the result of human error. Many times it’s easy in hindsight to see where things went wrong and for what reasons. In Deep Survival, Gonzales writes about how mental models can sometimes lead to injury and death among even highly trained and experienced experts by triggering or enabling reflexive or automatic actions that, while having served well in past experience, override reason and common sense in current circumstances and lead to accidents.

As a result some things, some stimuli in the environment, factors in the grand equation of the moment that should demand attention, are overlooked or ignored and tragedy strikes. And it happens precisely when a person feels most confident and in control of a relatively simple or ordinary situation.

It’s beneficial to routinely slow down, pay deliberate attention and carefully observe one’s surroundings and allow time for second thoughts, because as Gonzales writes, “first thoughts are no thoughts at all. They’re automated actions.” It seems like obvious self-evident advice, but the human mind makes it remarkably easy to ignore. Don’t settle for seeing, but actively scrutinize the ordinary and know that experience and knowledge can provide a dangerous illusion of control and safety. Such deliberation may well save your life.

rattlesnake head

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California Condor; Timeline of Tragedy and Hope

California condor soaringA California condor soaring over Sespe Wilderness.

1890California condor population estimated at 600.

California condor sunning wings spread1982Only 22 California condors alive in the world.

California condor1985A single breeding pair survive for the entire species.

California condor Santa Barbara Zoo1987The last wild condor is captured from Bitter Creek National Wildlife Refuge in Ventura County.

California condor head1992-2011Following restoration efforts and captive breeding 92 condors are released into the wild.

Santa Barbara Zoo California condor2013There are now about 404 California condors in the world with 235 flying free in the wild, 69 of them in southern California. (Friends of Condors)

Related Posts:

Condor in a Cage: Time Line of Tradegy | Condor Point |Condor Feather | Whiteacre Peak, Fossilized Bones, Cougar Prints and Condors | Desperate Fight with Condors: Narrow Escape of Santa Barbara Man (1899)

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