Cookie Monster with Velvet Paws

In the wetlands east of Sutter Buttes there’s a rice farm, and on this farm there’s a machine shed.

It’s one of those open machine sheds where swallows swoop in and out and a pair of phoebes may nest under the eaves.

Since farmers get the munchies, there’s a plastic jar with animal crackers on the workbench.

  

When the staff showed up for work last Wednesday the cookie jar was on the floor.

 

The jar was half empty. Something had pigged out on animal crackers.   

There were no bite marks or signs of brute force, but a cookie monster had managed to twist off the plastic screw lid.

So the farmer set a live trap on Monday, and the next morning the cookie monster’s identity was no longer a mystery.

In the trap was the raccoon's svelte cousin, the ringtail (Bassaricus astutus).

The farmer drove it to a remote area where there was plenty of ringtail habitat and let it go.

Energized by cookies and enabled by velvet paws with retractile claws, it dashed up a tree like magic.

That's a happy ending, I told my friend, but if the rascal comes back, I have a camera trap to see how it opens the cookie jar.

[Many thanks to Tony Rosa for telling me about this event, and to Bill and Susan Shaul and Carol and Frank Rosa for assembling the facts.]

Big bear sniffs, Little bear rubs

With all the warm dry weather the bears have been more active than in past years.

It's much easier for codgers to get around in the woods in beautiful dry weather, but it's ominous when the insects are prematurely abundant and trees are blossoming early.

I dread thinking about wildfire this year.

But life goes on in the barranca.

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A Hollow Log

I've been scoping out the woods for hollow logs, meaning potential den sites, and the "jonah log" was an irresistible camera trap location.

I wasn't optimistic, because even the light from an infrared LED could dissuade an napper.

On the other hand, Craig and I had a gray fox take a high noon siesta in a cave where the white flash pulsed continuously, and it wasn't bothered in the least.

As you will see (and yes, I expect you to read this BEFORE looking at the video) no one took a nap.

But even so, there was a interesting selection of visitors.

Ringtail on the beat

Here's some night action on a seasonal creek in Butte County, California.

Gray foxes, striped skunks, and raccoons use the creek bed as a thoroughfare, and are the most frequently filmed camera-trapped visitors.

Bears and bobcats stop to drink and then cross it and move on up the slope.

When I get better video of these common visitors I will post it.

This is the only footage of a ringtail I've gotten on this creek, but it is one of the more satisfying clips.

This ringtail didn't want to get its feet wet, unlike its relative the raccoon with its underwater hand-jive routine.

As you can see, it's a good rock-hopper.

Rainy day ringtail

It was raining after the clock struck one on March 6th.

That's when the ringtail came grubbing around the base of the outcrop.

In three and half minutes the camera snapped it only three times.

This location is about three quarters of a mile from the previous ringtail set, but with a home range as large of 1500 acres this ringtail could be the same animal -- though I doubt it.

It's going to take some work to get a decent portrait of this critter, but I'd settle for a mediocre picture of mother ringtail and the kids.

Soon the kids will be in tow, hopping about, exploring, and playing.

Risky business concluded

Wet weather delayed my return to the beer can highway, but when it dried up I checked the cams.

I surmounted the cut bank without acrobatics and bee-lined to the camera, which was facing the sky.

The woodworked sapling had snapped under a snow load.

I knew at a glance that the case contained water. The fresnel lens always has the weakest seal in my home brews.

The LCD was fogged, the D-cells were taking a bath, and the silica gel container was soaked.

But the camera fired up and I quickly clicked through the pictures.

I could only make out two species: the  neighborhood wood rat hung its tail over the lens and a gray fox posed demurely.

The other two cams had even less to show, but I was still high from the Burma trip, so I could afford to be reflective.

When I downloaded the photos at home, however I found a pleasing wood rat portrait,

and the unmistakeable tail of a ringtail.

There was only one other photo -- of the ringtail sniffing castoreum and looking patently stupified.

With a year and half of camera trapping on the Chimineas, I believe that Chimineas's ringtails are few and far between, but we are not ready to throw in the towel yet.  

We've just got to climb down into those deep rocky canyons and set cams near water and dense cover.  

By the way, I dried the camera and controller over the wood burning stove, and they are again in working condition. 

Ringtail country

Ringtail country on a winter afternoon.

You're looking at the outcrops and spires on the east side to Butte Creek Canyon not far above the roaring creek.

They also occur in the wetlands of the Sacramento Valley, but they're usually associated with rocky canyon country.

Naturalist Michael Ellis recently mentioned the ringtail's use of cabins in Bay Nature.

I've read about ringtails and prospectors' cabins many times, but so far I've found only one first hand reference.

It is in Robert Pavlik's book Norman Clyde, Legendary mountaineer of California's Sierra Nevada (Heyday Books, Berkeley, CA).

A ringtail moved into Clyde's cabin in the eastern Sierra where it indulged in nocturnal capers above Clyde's bed.

Clyde fed it outside the cabin, though apparently this wasn't necessary because the cabin was well stocked with mice.

A True Tale of a Ringtail

Photo by Michael M. Collins

Friday's post drew out the true-life testimonies of two CTC readers -- convincing proof once again that Ringtail isn't a fairy tale fabrication.

Entomologist Michael Collins' comment brought back fond memories of collecting days with some mutual friends and mentors, and it came with the photographic proof seen above.

Here's his tale . . .

"I had in 1988 a humorous encounter with a ringtail while blacklighting near Lake Pena Blanca in the Atascosa Mts. west of Nogales AZ . 

It was a moon-less night, best for blacklighting for saturniid moths (my specialty), and the world was very dark beyond the blue glow of the light and sheet. 

Nevertheless, I thought I saw a shape quickly moving through the brush, right at the edge of the steep rocky cliff near which I had set up my light.

I began shooting in the direction of the movement with my Nikon film camera, not sure I had recorded anything. 

I did notice that several large sphinx moths began disappearing from the ground around the sheet! 

On getting the prints back a week later I first admired the thick black-and-white tail that I captured exiting the frame, flipped through the prints, and found I had by good luck caught a ringtail in decent focus, who was in turn focused on taking the best moth specimens that were coming in. 

These neat little animals are probably common in the Yuba River canyon near my home in Nevada City, where 49er prospectors called them "miner's cats", but I have never seen one in the wild in all this time in California.

The Arizona sighting was a rare and special treat."

If it's scientific exploration in the field that turns you buy Dr Collins' memoir -- Moth Catcher: An Evolutionist's Journey Through Canyon And Pass, and check other interesting titles listed in the University of Nevada Press's  Holiday Sale (click on Sale). The prices are right!

And thank you, Michael, for sharing that evocative memory.

Even camera trappers get the blues

In the canyons, the deep deep canyons, the ringtail roars tonight.

A wishful image spurs us on -- Ringtail's lithe form scaling the moonlit rocks like spider woman in buff-colored tights.

She lures us hither and yon searching for the right habitat and a dried token of her presence -- a hope-sustaining turd.

But in truth we wouldn't know one if we found it.

We've searched the literature and poured over museum records for clues.

Damn it, we've looked in all the right places.

We camera trapped rimrock, stony recesses, and rock piles. No ringtails.

We camera trapped the same kinds of places near water. No ringtails.

We learned that Texas ringtails eat juniper berries in winter. Now we're cam-trapping the juniper woodlands.

The elusive quarry inevitably comes up during Chimineas rendezvous.

On some some dirt road to nowhere it's -- "Hey look at those cliffs over there -- looks like ringtail habitat".

It comes up during happy hour.

"I swear, they're all over the place in Butte and Plumas County." I saw a dead one on Rt 70 last week, and even the kid at my local hardware store knows their favorite bait."

"Whats that?' Craig rises to the bait.

"Strawberry jam." 

"We're using all fruit jam."

"No wonder we're not having any luck."

The team collects the camera traps the week before Random Truth and I arrive.

They scope out the pictures in the field, which is one of camera trapping's simple pleasures.

Back at the lab they download the memory sticks and view the photos again on the computer to see if they missed anything.

When the photos are found wanting of ringtails Craig slides into a blue funk.

Fortunately, he's a busy man and the blues don't last long.

A few days layer we all meet and our 3-day camera trapping session begins.

These are generally convivial reunions, but we rarely have time time to set all the cams.

When we part ways Craig is jazzed to cast off with Todd and Heather to set the remaining ones.

After the last session he sent me this email.

"Lucky we didn't try to get to Hunt Spring when you were out here. It was a hell of a hike and the canyon with the spring was so steep and choked with brush, we couldn't get down to it. I might try to get down there in cooler weather.

 As it was, we left the truck at about 2:30 in the afternoon and got back at close to 8:00 pm.  We hiked the last portion in darkness.  It was still very hot (mid-90's) this past week and we brought plenty of water. 

However, it was still a strenuous hike and Todd ended up overheating and upchucking.  I felt bad for him but we sat in the shade until he felt better and we headed back to the truck. 

We actually set the cam in a very interesting spot.  We found a large expanse of rock outcrops overlooking Gypsum Canyon and surrounded by chamise scrub.  It's similar to the spot where we got Spilogale last time.  I am encouraged because the canyon it overlook is more mesic that most of the stuff on Chimineas proper.  I could see sycamores growing in the canyon bottom.  It looked ideal for ringtails but the proof is in the pudding.  Let's wait and see what we get."

I have to admire those plucky guys. Nothing like cooky-tossing dedication.  And I should mention that Todd's the one who hauls the pack.

To hither an yon

We checked Craig's set when we arrived at the ranch.

An impenetrable expanse of chamise blocked their access to Hunt Spring, so they set the cam on a beautiful outcrop.

I would have selected the same place.

Craig at the set above Hunt Spring

But only two critters mugged for the camera -- right on that boulder in front of Craig.

And ringtail wasn't one of them.

Searching for Ringtail

If you see a ground squirrel here you have good eyes.

Chimineas Ranch, Carrizo Ecological Reserve

We were looking for ringtails.

There are no records of ringtails on the ranch, so we set four cameras in rocky areas over a 5 mile area.

This was the last and admittedly a hastily chosen location. 

The memory stick had filled in 6 days -- 332 photos with a success rate (# animal images/total # images) of 38%.

That's what happens when you program your controller for 24-hour shooting and you get dappled light during the day. 

False triggers from hot air. 

We got lots of  ground squirrels, pickup trucks and cattle, wood rat, valley quail and morning dove.

This one is cropped so you can see it.

The set looked a lot better at night, and I'll bet you can't see the wood rat either.

It just proves what hunters sometimes say, "What you're looking for isn't what you'll necessarily get."

Ringtail's back and groovin' again

In the wee hours of the morning on January 18th ringtail paid a visit to a new camera trap site. The site was a log baited with egg yolk, chicken, and a lump of evil-smelling ground turkey (hidden under leaves--out of sight to ravens and jays). The ringtail visited the log during a three hour and fifteen minute period starting at 3:40 AM. During the 35 minutes it actually spent "on stage" the camera trap took 61 pictures. The animal was active--the average interval between pictures was 21 seconds. These pics reveal a little more about the ringtail’s strange behavior mentioned in the January 8th posting.

3:41:27 AM (photo # 5). It looks like one of the first things it did was scent mark the log. Notice that it is pressing the hips down. (Maybe you don't notice--I admit it's a crumby view). But it looks to me like it is rubbing its backside on the log. I suspect the ringtail has an anal gland or a perineal gland, and this activity leaves a personal "calling card" at the site.


3:52:08 AM (photo # 33). The "dopey phase". Ringtail seems to be "grooving" on the scent. In this transcendental state it seems to be leaning a little to one side.


6:43:20 AM (photo # 53). Now the animal is rubbing its neck on the log--possibly the well-seasoned egg yolk.


6:44:30 AM (photo # 57). Ringtail has seized a piece of egg yolk and is checking it out. I think this proves that egg yolk is a substance of interest.


Ringtail ate the chicken, but left the evil-smelling turkey burger untouched. It doesn't seem to eat the egg--it just makes love to it. In the second photo above, it looks like there is yellow stain on the back of its ears--could it be egg yolk? (Frankly, I'm getting a little bored with ringtail's obsession, and suspect you are too.)

Egg yolk perfume

Last week neighbor Richard asked if I had any use for boiled egg yolks. "Sure", I said. I hadn't trapped any mice in the garage lately, and I was out of chicken giblets." I'll try them as bait." Which brings me to the subject of deviled egg sandwiches. Back in the Pleistocene, when the codger was a kid, mothers sometimes unwittingly subjected their children to unpleasant experiences in school. In those days it wasn't "uncool" to bring your lunch to school in a lunch box or a paper bag. But deviled egg sandwiches were NOT considered "cool", because they would "stink up the cloak room". Those "stinko kids" were ribbed so badly they begged their mothers never to put another egg sandwich in their lunch bag.

Carnivores of course find many smells interesting and seem to love things that smell nasty. So I sprinkled the crumbled egg yolk in the recesses of the boulder -- the same place the bobcat visited last week.





Two nights later, the ringtail and the skunk smelled the eggs. Ringtail got there first, and spent most of the first 6 minutes hunkered over the eggs in a kind of reverie. Its eyes were closed, and it looked like it was drifting off into dreamland. In other shots it looked like it might be rubbing its cheeks on the rock, that is, scent marking. It deferred to the skunk, who sniffed around for 3 minutes and moved on. But the attraction on the boulder was strong. Five minutes later ringtail was back with the dreamy look.

I'm not sure what's going on. Maybe it had indigestion or just decided to take a nap.

Ringtail exposes herself

The secret to getting these pictures of a ringtail might have been a crab dinner last week. The next morning Shirlee woke up saying, "Do I smell garbage?" Half asleep and not smelling anything, I assumed
the question was a gentle message. "No dear, that must be me."

When I started to brew the coffee I knew what she was talking about. A powerful stench was coming from under the sink. I moved the reeking crab shells to the garage, where I was doing a project, and the stink increased even more during the day. Something had to be done. We couldn’t wait until garbage collection day. That’s when I got the idea. I crushed the shells in a plastic bag, transforming them into a gooey paste. Crab potion #9.

Late that afternoon I spooned the potion into some holes in an old cedar log where one of the cameras is set. Up to now the only visitors to this log had been a spotted skunk and mice, and I expected more pictures of the same. I was mighty pleased 24 hours later when I found this charming critter in 8 out of nine images!

I cropped the first shot, but the second one shows the full frame as she sniffs the tangy potion in the hole. After that she ate a bait mouse, but the camera was a little too close, and her head was partly out of the frame. Dang!

By the way, the ringtail plucked the mouse. There was a little pile of mouse fur at the foot of the log. As far as I know, that's a trait shared by cats, but not members of the raccoon family. No evidence that she sampled the potion, but it was still
potent.