Shore Birds

Based on comments I've made in the past, you may get the idea that I'm not all that fond of California. Oh sure, they had a chance to have Gary Coleman as their Governor and they messed it up. And their ultra-nanny whacko-ism does make you question their good sense (I mean, do we really need placards every ten feet along the Golden Gate bridge saying "Jumping from this bridge is recognized by the State of California to be potentially hazardous to your human structural integrity: All jumpers must wash hands with soap and water before leaping."?) They want to ban Happy Meals because toys make kids fat. The visibility of their street signage is abysmal, their traffic moves like aspen leaves in a rain gutter, and for some inexplicable reason they continue to allow Oakland to exist. They obviously have their problems.

But there are great things about the state, as well. I mean, if you can't have Gary Coleman, then Arnold is probably the next best thing, right? And they've got some impressive big ol' trees, some gorgeous beaches, and enough sea lions to feed John Goodman; not to mention some spectacular vistas of both mountains and seashore. And the San Francisco Bay is encircled by a fabulous trail system.

My "offsite office" is located in Sunnyvale, a few hundred yards south of the innermost tip of the Bay. I asked my local coworkers if there were any good running paths in the neighborhood, and was told about the Bay Trail. Perfect! It literally follows the bay's shoreline, passes right behind the building I'm working in, and continues for more miles than I'd ever want to run. I decided to check it out by doing a ten-mile workout over the weekend.

My first surprise was the goats. There was a nice trailhead parking lot, but when I pulled in, I noticed a gaggle of goats grazing in the grass. At first I was a little disoriented, since in Colorado the only goats you'll see will be way up high in the mountains. Then I became a little nervous, because those things have weird, demented-looking eyeballs, and very sharp horns. Were they guarding the trail with the intention of preventing access? I had a vision of Tim the Enchanter taking the place of the Black Knight and bleating "None shall paa-aa-aaahhs".

But then I remembered hearing something about Californians using goats for weed control. And as I approached the actual trailhead, I could see that the behorned ruminants were actually behind a fence and couldn't spear me with their horrible head-tusks anyway. Therefore, I began my run.


The trail followed the shore, but also crossed over a few levees, which you can see in this photo. To the north, I could see the other side of the bay. To the south were buildings belonging to government agencies and defense contractors. There were signs all along the fence that said something to the effect of "Anyone taking pictures of these buildings (or even staring in this general direction for too long) will be considered a commie spy, and will be dealt with harshly." There were some very interesting buildings there, but you'll have to use your imagination for that part of the trail.

I'm not sure what the levees were for; they just seemed to divide this corner of the bay into smaller puddles, which didn't appear to be very deep. As with most non-flowing seawater areas, there was a distinctive odor of brine, decaying vegetation, and raw fish. Dozens of different kinds of birds waded in these pools and dined upon whatever lurked therein. It kinda made me wish I knew something about birds so I could identify their species.

Nah, just kidding. The only birds I care about are the chickens that end up in my burritos.

Mmmm, chicken burritos!

Anyway, since there's no waves crashing upon the shore in these still waters, it was pretty quiet. But the aforementioned birds did do their share of squawking, tweeting, and hooting. If I were Doctor Doolittle, I'd have told them to relax as I ran by; I'm just some harmless dude getting some exercise. But without such reassurances, I guess they had to respond with the standard "Hmmm, he's higher on the food chain -- guess I'd better fly away before he gets too close" reaction. Some of them were probably getting irritated with me, cuz they'd fly 100 yards down the shoreline and alight...only to take off again as I approached. A couple of these white, storky-looking goomers must've done that a half dozen times before they finally tried a different direction.

So, here I am running along with my GPS watch ticking off the miles for me. But I keep hearing the watch beeping when I'm not anywhere near the point where it should beep. What's that all about? Hmm.

Well, after this happened a few times, I finally figured it out -- some of the birds happened to chirp at the exact same frequency as the watch, and were just doing their little beepy birdcalls at random times as I passed, causing me to think I was passing a mile mark when I obviously wasn't. So puzzle me this, Darwinians: What mechanism would cause an avian species to evolve a chirp that sounds exactly like an electronic device? What survival mechanism is enabled by the ability to imitate a watch alarm?

HA! I caught you actually thinking about it, didn't I? Well, I hate to tell you this, but it's a logical fallacy to even ponder the question, because the REAL question is why the watchmakers chose to emit sounds that mimic shore birds: So there.

The answer is simple: What's annoying is annoying. And certain frequencies cut right through the human ability to ignore ambient noise. (Think of the McDonalds French Fry Vat Alarm...is there a more annoying sound on the entire planet? The machine's designer probably had pet canaries or something.)

Of course, after I had worked through this thoughtful analysis, a friend pointed out that I didn't know for a fact that the sound I was hearing was actually a bird. "Maybe it was a bug," she said. A bug??

Well, she is from Florida, and for all I know they have bugs down there that can carry on conversations and play the trombone. After all, crickets and cicadas can create a racket loud enough to rival a motel air conditioner, so why couldn't some San Francisco Bay bug be able to beep like a Garmin? It is plausible, I suppose.

Anyway, the point is that I had a lovely run along the Bay, and would recommend the trail to anyone who wants to exercise in that part of California. That's all I'm sayin'. Next topic: The new breed of mimes. Stay tuned, and have a great day!