Notes from the Underground

As the last inane jogger ambled out of view, I began to venture down onto the trail. My eyes were drawn towards a series of coyote brush about 100 yards out as the sun began a rapid descent towards the horizon. No sooner had the jogger passed when out of the bushes, a small creature darted across the path. At first, I thought maybe it was a fox. It was too cautious to be a coyote and far too small for a mountain lion. Plus, I'm not that lucky. Instinctively, I ran towards the

On a cold, sunny Saturday morning in mid January, I stood out on the ravine overlooking the Bay, scanning the rafts of ducks, geese, and shorebirds, for any sign of anomaly. Over the years, I'd performed this ritual many times, always to no avail. As a frequent visitor to Coyote Hills Regional Park in Fremont, I'd been seeing reports of the Chilean Flamingo since as far back at 2017. He'd undoubtedly escaped from a zoo or some other equally atrocious institute of captivity an