Ernie's Great Outdoors

Union-Tribune Outdoors  It was a glorious early fall day, and I was lost in the moment, surrounded by towering granite monoliths, scented pines and a gently flowing High Sierra creek. Eager brook trout were flashing their brilliant fall colors as they rose in the gin-clear water to grab my fly as it landed on the surface and drifted slowly away. I was lost in deep contemplation. The only sound was the whisper of the Sierra wind as it gently fluttered the leaves of the surrounding aspen trees. A thought popped into my mind. It’s the wind that allows us to smell the fragrance of the pines, and it’s the soaring eagle that lets us see the wind. A little time fishing can allow the mind to drift into such lofty thoughts. But another sound pulled me back to reality. It was different, something urgent, but not quite understandable. I realized it was my wife, muttering something. Turning toward the sound, I could see her pointing and realized she was whispering, “Ernie, bear, bear.” Turning...

 UPDATE FROM MT. HOO Many of the birds of summer have departed for winter homes, but there is still plenty of activity here at Mt. Hoo.  The hooded orioles left, right on schedule in early September, but the hummers are so happy, because now they have the feeders all to themselves.  We use the First Nature, 32-ounce Oriole Feeders because they hold a good amount of nectar and are easy to clean and maintain. The larger holes allow the orioles to use them with their larger beaks, but they are equally popular with hummingbirds. So, we keep them clean and filled, even after the orioles depart for winter homes in Mexico. We add a little extra sugar water to the mixture to give the high-energy hummers a bit more nourishment during the chilly winter months.  That mixture is one part sugar (and a just a little more) to four parts water. Make sure feeders are clean and free of mold.  During the warm fall days we will also get bees using the nectar, so there can be compet...

Legendary wild horse’s presence will be missed in White Mountains The long shadows of mortality have swept across the lonely sagebrush flats of California’s White Mountains, claiming the life of a wild and elusive legend. For three decades a mustang named Campito roamed wild and free in this windswept wilderness range best known as home to the oldest living thing on Earth, the bristlecone pine. News has come from the U.S. Forest Service that this legendary mystery horse now belongs to the ages. Campito’s remains were found by a hiker and confirmed by USFS biologist Kary Schlict. According to Lisa Cox, acting public affairs officer for Inyo National Forest in Bishop, it appears the wild horse enjoyed a final summer in the meadows of the White Mountains before passing away in August. Hopefully, Campito slipped away peacefully in a soft summer meadow in this wild place he chose to live. I had the pleasure of sharing the wilderness solitude of the White Mountains with Campito several times...

For a moment, I felt like I had been transported to another planet where the residents had huge eyes, colorful bodies and the ability to fly at incredible speeds or hang motionless in space. Then the water seeping into my pants pulled me back to earth. While hiking past a pond on Palomar Mountain, the bustle of colorful flying insects had caught my attention and triggered a sit-and-see adventure where I plunk myself down someplace and simply observe the natural activities around me. It was the rapid wingbeats of these insects that had captured my attention, and as I sat down to see what I might discover, a world filled with unusual creatures came into focus. It wasn’t an alien planet. I had wandered into the realm of dragonflies and damselflies, and as I sat quietly at the edge of this small mountain pond, the industry of nature resumed as if I wasn’t there. In this narrow band between dry land and an aquatic world, there was a tremendous amount of activity. At first, with childlike wo...

And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul. — John Muir I realized I had stopped fishing. I had entered a paradise of natural beauty where time and purpose seemed to stop. I could only sit by the banks of the Sierra stream as the water tumbled musically over the rocks and gasp at the splendor that surrounded me. This was the first day of what would become an annual fall trip to the Eastern Sierra. It was early October, and I knew the aspen groves would be ablaze in autumn hues, but I was not prepared for what I was seeing. I had come to fish, but nature was on full display. This was one of those spectacular fall color years in the Sierra, but on many trips since some years were better than others, but none have ever been bad. Over time, my annual October fishing trips have turned into fall color visits with a little fishing tossed in. California’s Eastern Sierra is an overpowering vertical world, created by massive geological forces, grinding glaciers, torrential water ...