James Franco lends his artistic voice to Yosemite

What did the fox say? I still don’t know, but James Franco gave it his best interpretation on New Year’s Eve in Yosemite while wearing a sparkly mask and dancing at the Ahwahnee Hotel.

This week the multi-talented James and his artistic posse visited Yosemite and my hometown of Midpines and Mariposa to film a segment of his upcoming movie, “Palo Alto Stories.”  Franco sightings raced across social media, from him stopping at the Pizza Factory to filming at the intersection of Triangle and 140 (literally in the middle of nowhere), to hiking the Mirror Lake Trail.

#sadfranco

I had always considered James more of a cool city hipster than someone likely to don fleece and check out the stars in the Ahwahnee Meadow. It just shows you how much I know (nothing). As someone who writes about Yosemite and wildlife both professionally and personally, this summer I stumbled upon the notice for an Indiegogo campaign set up by James for his film. I was intrigued: James Franco-Yosemite-mountain lions-bears? I knew James as a gifted actor, but had no idea he also had penned a book or two (or three or four).

I ordered the short story collection the film is based on not knowing what to expect, but soon placed James on the bookshelf next to my Raymond Carver volumes, one of my favorite short fiction writers. He possesses his same lyrical quality, and a compassionate yet distant eye. The work is also one of the best testaments I’ve read about growing up in California, it both dispels and enhances the mythical life of plenty in the Golden State. I highly recommend the book and his others.

In September, I was lucky enough to meet Mr. Franco at a showing of his film “Sal” in Los Angeles, and became even more admiring of his artistic range. In directing a film about the last day of the actor Sal Mineo, James penned a brilliant ode to the extraordinariness of the ordinariness of life, elevating the mundane to the scared in the context of a person’s last moments.

What does the mountain lion say? Meeting James Franco in LA.

Being my usual goofy self, I started the conversation off with nothing intellectually profound, but told James about P22, the mountain lion living in Los Angeles (he was lucky to escape without hearing my frog stories). We then chatted about how he weaves the natural world in his work. In Palo Alto Stories, wildlife and nature possess a sort of remembrance of things past quality as development has already started overtaking California and the teenagers in his stories seem to long for wildness without quite being able to articulate it. In his story Wasting, one character rediscovers the animal themed children’s books of Bill Peet, and wistfully thinks, “It was good to read those books again, all those feelings came back to me.”

The short story Yosemite, one that the film will be based on, deals with a father and his two sons driving to the park—James plays his father in the movie. The boys discuss the shooting they witness of a ‘friendly’ bear with their dad, which causes one of them to consider his own mortality: “The bear had ribs like I had ribs. Underneath had been lungs, and a stomach and a heart and they all got burned away.”  In another sequence of the film, teenagers deal with “the threat of a killer mountain lion looming over the community.”

James is a welcome modern voice to what I consider the tired writings about Yosemite and nature that place the natural world on the pedestal of untouchable paradise that can only be described in religious terms of perfection. I’m more interested in new interpretations of what the park and wildlife mean in the internal lives of people. Nowhere in his stories do the words “glorious” or “magnificent” appear in relation to Yosemite (my apologies to John Muir—I think him a great man—but enough flowery prose already) as his style is more Charles Bukowski than Aldo Leopold.

I consider this a virtue.

Yosemite is my favorite place on earth, my spiritual center and I work to tirelessly to protect wildlife. But Nature needs a new song—the old record is worn out.

James might not know what the fox says (does anyone?), but I am looking forward to hearing more what he says about Yosemite, nature and wildlife. And of course Bound #4.

A pika snow angel, the coolest arachnid ever, and an animal track parade in Yosemite

A pika snow angel (photo by Beth Pratt)

With the winter closure of Tioga Pass looming (or is it? no storms in the short term forecast), I've been dashing up to Gaylor Lakes as frequently as possible to spend time with my favorite pika family before they snuggle under the snow and nibble on their dried lupine stalks. 

Although I observed several pika scrambling on the rocks, I was not fast enough on the camera draw to obtain any photographs, which is rare for me at this pika village near Gaylor Lakes. This population is extremely friendly and usually comes out and smiles for the camera. Last time I visited, however, I observed two red-tailed hawks and a prairie falcon scouting the territory, so perhaps they have discovered this pika paradise as well.

Yet I photographed something just as cool as a live pika- a pika snow angel! The pika leapt onto the snow and disappeared into the rocks before I could take the photo, but he left his body print. Animal tracks are another favorite part of winter hiking as I enjoy seeing the paths of wandering wildlife, their tracks invisible for most of the year.

One critter I encountered that left no tracks was a cool spider. Except it wasn't a spider. According to my friend Eddie Dunbar of BugPeople, the arachnid was a Harvestman or type of daddylonglegs as spiders possess two body parts. Spider or no spider, it was one badass bug wandering over snow at 11,000 feet.  

An arachnid at 11,000 feet (photo by Beth Pratt)

Here's 30 seconds of Yosemite Zen from my hike--you can hear the ice melting on Gaylor Lake.

Gaylor Lake on a beautiful fall day (photo by Beth Pratt)

Upper Gaylor Lake (photo by Beth Pratt)Animal track parade near Granite Lake (photo by Beth Pratt)

Beautiful cirrus clouds over Gaylor Lake (photo by Beth Pratt)

Winter Comes to Yosemite--and The Belt of Venus

Last weekend I hiked up to the Lake of the Domes in 55F weather, wearing shorts and t-shirt. Yesterday, gloves, hats and a few layers were required in the Tuolumne Meadows area of Yosemite as winter had definitley arrived. The recent storm had left a layer of snow that did not quite cover all of the peaks, leaving the mountains looking a bit like an unfinished painting.

Saddlebag Lake (photo by Beth Pratt)

Tuolumne Meadows (photo by Beth Pratt)

At sunset, a pink and purple hued sky appeared in the east over Tenaya Lake and Mount Conness, a vivid and rich color that seemed to vibrate above the white granite. I generally referred to it as alpenglow, but Steve Bumgardner, the Yosemite filmmaker, told me it was actually an atmospheric phenomena called The Belt of Venus. Next time you are watching the sunset, turn to the east and see if you can spot the backscattered red sunlight that causes the brownish to pink wedge in the sky named after the Roman goddess, Venus.

The Belt of Venus over Tenaya Lake (photo by Beth Pratt)

Pika, pika poop, Yosemite toads and thunderstorms: just another day in Tioga Country

Thunderstorm over Gaylor Lake (photo by Beth Pratt)

“Mist rising—streams falling—
snow melting—
rocks weathering
us descending.
Clark’s Nutcracker hollering
A day to be alive and wandering through.”

Gary Snyder always perfectly captures the wonderment of a day in the Sierra with his poetry. To complete the story of my amazing hike on Monday, I would just need to add a few lines about pika, pika poop, thunderstorms and Yosemite toads to the verse. 

Gaylor Lake at 11 am (photo by Beth Pratt)Gaylor Lake at 3 pm (photo by Beth Pratt)

My friend Ranger Dick, a Yosemite Ranger for over thirty years, has a saying that "weather is always better when you are outside in it." I agree. At the end of my hike, I sat comfortably under a small grove of pine trees on Gaylor Ridge and listened to the thunder reverberating across the lake, rushing and pounding the surrounding cliffs. The thunder was a physical thing, I could feel it shake and tussle with the granite. 

I wandered in the basin, looking for pika and Yosemite toads, and to my delight found both. A rocky slope near Gaylor Lake has become my almost never miss place for pika sightings--one even ran over my foot one year. Sure enough, as I approached I heard the distinctive warning chirp of the pika, and saw him dash over some rocks. I sat and watched a few of the adorable critters for some time, along with marmots and ground squirrels. And I even found some pika toilets from the winter--huge piles of poop!

Run away! First pika sighting of the year (Photo by Beth Pratt)

At lower Gaylor Lake, I listened for the trilling of the Yosemite toad, a melodious love song that signals the beginning of spring. But the low snowpack--and very dry conditions--had accelerated their annual breeding schedule and I heard only a few lonesome calls instead of the usual deafening chorus. It's not going to be a good year for the toad (and probably Sierra frogs in general) as the conditions in the Gaylor basin resemble mid-summer instead of spring. I found only one pond with egg masses and tadpoles, and many of the usual sites were dry already.

Pika poop (photo by Beth Pratt)

Yosemite toad (photo by Beth Pratt)The storm over Tenaya Peak and Tenaya Lake (photo by Beth Pratt)

What Lives in Peter Coyote's Backyard?

Peter Coyote’s wildlife-friendly yard welcomes foxes and other animals. (Photo by Peter Coyote)

Yes, his namesake animal does wander into Peter Coyote’s backyard, along with a diverse array of critters including skunks, gray foxes, raccoons, and birds galore.

His wild menagerie (complemented with two personable cats, Jackson and Pearl) attests to his lifelong affinity for nature. “I’ve always been fascinated by animals and have felt a kinship. By the time I was eight years old I realized that everything in the world was alive and connected, and had its own business—and you didn’t interrupt it without consequences.”

A resident of Marin County in Northern California since the 1970’s, Coyote has witnessed some of the negative consequences of our actions on the natural world and considers his efforts for wildlife as simply being a good neighbor. “Habitat for wildlife is continually shrinking—I can at least provide a way station.”

Peter Coyote in the gardens at his northern California home (Photo by Beth Pratt)

After spending an afternoon with Peter at his home (nicknamed ‘The Tree House’) it’s obvious that he “walks the talk” of being a caretaker for wild things. The words of his friend Gary Snyder perhaps best describes his philosophy: “Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.”

Indeed, the natural world and his official dwelling seem indistinguishable, an extension of each other. From the road a series of winding staircases suspended among the redwood trees overlook ferns and other lush foliage in the creek bed below. Inside the home, you feel as if you were in the comforting embrace of a giant tree trunk. Peter describes the intent of the design: “my house and my garden are built as part of nature, not over it.”

The animals have definitely noticed the welcome mat he has extended. The garden is simply the native landscape enhanced and retains the memory of days when Roosevelt elk and grizzly bears freely roamed the area. Native wildlife—albeit smaller than the historical mega-fauna—still flock to his mini-backyard nature reserve. Peter also supplements the native plants with bird feeders. The well stocked stash of sunflower seeds entice the titmice and juncos to visit, while goldfinches feed on his offerings of gourmet thistle. While we ate lunch on his deck, a Nutall’s woodpecker eyed the suet.

A Nutall’s woodpecker eyes the feeder (Photo by Beth Pratt)

Small mammals also make frequent appearances. He’s witnessed raccoon and skunk families on parade in his yard (sometimes at the same time!), and one raccoon, named Monica, has raised her young in his garden for four years. A gray fox has become a regular resident—he once watched her, along with her three kits, drink from a clay water bowl on his deck.

A raccoon and skunk parade (Photo by Peter Coyote).

Peter has many talents, from acting in more than one hundred films like Erin Brockovich and E.T., to his Emmy award-winning narration of documentaries such as Ken Burns’ The National Parks, to his intelligent and poignant storytelling (his autobiography Sleeping Where I Fall is a favorite of mine). For being a good neighbor to wild creatures, we’ll add one more achievement to his list of impressive accomplishments: an official National Wildlife Federation Certified Wildlife Habitat^®.