A DAY WITH THE JACKS

This was my day off, Veterans Day 1998.  I was feeling a little apprehensive
about the day as I was about to do something probably no one had ever done.
There was not going to be  anything particularly dangerous or risky about it, what
I was setting out to do.  On the contrary, it would be so unevent-
ful and tedious, and the payoff so meager, that anyone else would surely have
been too bored to seriously consider the project!  Illegal maybe.  I set my concern
aside, and set off anyways. Today would be the day of an outdoor adventure, right
here in the city of San Francisco!

It was to be a stake out, with me as the  wildlife photographer. In my gray
nylon pack I had packed a lunch, and some other essentials for the day:
a rented telephoto lens for my camera, plus some extra film and a book.
Just minutes before I had boarded the peninsula commuter train in downtown
San Francisco. I had watched the familiar scenes move past the windows, now
washed in a bright late morning sun. Everything appeared so much bluer and
the light more yellow than my usual sunrise train. Today it was a short
ride. Near the Airport, jumping off a mile past my destination I watched
the train pull away, then I began the march back down the tracks to the
foot of San Bruno Mountain and the edge of San Francisco Bay. With luck, a
place could be found near the tracks to construct a blind then I could sit
waiting for them to come out. They are the jackrabbits that inhabit the
weeds along the tracks next to the bay. By now I was feeling pretty self
conscious, clearly I was breaking some laws just by being there along the
tracks. I knew! The signs I was walking past told me that much! So this
sent me back to my doubts about the plans for the day. Would I get caught
trespassing? How would I explain that I was spending the day taking
pictures of jackrabbits? Hopefully I wouldn't have to.

I have fallen in love with these funny little creatures, watching them out
the window of my
train, seeing at least one daily. On one trip, I glimpsed seven of them in
what looked like a late afternoon cocktail party! Each animal was frozen
and looking in a different direction from all the others. I always laugh
when I see them. I find their vast array of fearful poses always gets me to
smiling. No one else on the train seems to see them. It was Sharon who
introduced me to the pleasures of hares. She was my girl for a while, and
she slept with a stuffed bunny even as a working professional graphic
artist. She felt a kinship with the rabbit, a kinship of passivity which
she was very serious about. I loved her very much and I had slowly accepted
this about her. Then the animal itself appeared to me out the window on my
daily train. At first I spotted a group of four running across a field.
Thereafter I only saw two, and Sharon always asked me about them and how
they were. Because of her and because of their geographic relationship I
called them simply North Bunny and South Bunny. Last winter railway
construction began and wiped out some of South Bunny's thicket. Hopefully
he was able to relocate. Then I lost them all for the few months of
darkness. I'd feared the worst. But with spring they were back, and for a
while there were even more now, as I said, at least seven. Once on the
nearby freeway, I saw one crushed and laying on the median! It was surely
one of mine. But sometimes I saw the babies too.

These are Black Tailed Jackrabbits (Lupus Californius). Their range is wide,
they are the rabbit
seen in brush, along roadsides and in the deserts of the west. They are
large rabbits, officially hares, with very long ears. They are buff colored
with black rimmed ears and tail, white on the underside. They are not an
endangered species which seems to allow everything and everyone to pick on
them. They have many predators and do not usually live long in the wild,
2-5 years being a long life. Captives have made it ten years. They live
with an open hunting season in California with no limits. The blacktailed
jack lives in open brush land, preferring to trust its senses of hearing
and vision of predators to protect it. It rests in a hollow pushed aside in
the ground, and usually has no other shelter.

Now if you didn't know me, you might think someone doing this sort of thing
on their day off, was not
exactly what you would call manly. Maybe I am something of a wimp, I
wouldn't know. But I am not a Walter Mitty. I know my sports, women, the
outdoors, and can hold my own at a party. Maybe you'd have guessed that I
did accounting somewhere in a windowless room. Or that I'd just have to be
a librarian. As it turns out, I'm none of those, I'm a geologist. My work,
crushing rocks and doing geochemical analysis in a lab. Before this I did
construction work. My choice profession though, would be Artist. I paint,
collage, photograph, and sometimes draw. That I think, is where I connected
with the rabbits. I plan to paint them. Too bad you will never see the
work. As everyone knows you can't make a living as an artist! I tried for a
short while, but of course I never got anywhere. At least I sold some work,
quite a bit actually! But, I quit when the art market fell out in the early
90's. Oh, I didn't quit art, I just found it simpler to have no illusions
about selling it. But all of this diverts us from my story . Let's resume!


The walk now looked longer than I'd noticed from the train. That was OK, my
pack was light enough and I was happy! I could look for the jacks
immediately for they were spread out all over these flats that were once
San Francisco Bay marsh. Now it was an abandoned ship yard. The land was
undeveloped only because of toxic waste in the soil. I could see the
textures of the weeds, smell the anise and hear the gravel crunch under my
feet. All this, but I couldn't see a jackrabbit. This new ground level view
did not compare with the view from the double deck train car. I walked
slowly and then began to notice large stacks of gear, rails and ties,
segments of track and off in the distance a line of hopper cars and flats
on a side rail. The cars were right where I'd be going. Possibly they could
be trouble. Especially trouble if anyone came attending to those cars.
Another worry on my mind was my equipment. The telephoto lens was untested.
Could I make it work? How close would it let me get? And how far back could
I stay? My original plan was to stand on the rocky hill across the way from
the jacks little field, right under the freeway. Go ahead and laugh! I
would laugh too! It really isn't much of a beautiful setting, not now at
least. But a hundred years ago, yes, a thousand yes, ten, a hundred
thousand, and each thousand before that into millions. Yes. But not now.
But I found it beautiful. Beautiful in a 1950's nostalgia route 66 sort of
way! Americana, yes it was the photographer in me coming out again. The
koan of beauty arising from ugliness. How else to appreciate train tracks,
freeways, anise weeds, and jackrabbits?

As I got closer I could make out a huge pile of gravel. "That could come in
handy" I thought. I made for the gravel and was soon enough drawing near.
Walking up onto the tracks to
look, I soon had to jump down to let another train pass, this one from the
south. "Good," now I knew the frequency of the trains, for at mid day they
moved one an hour each way. Back up on the rails, I gave my first serious
look for the rabbits. In just a few minutes I had flushed one out
unexpectedly and another joined the first, but they bolted off before I
could get my camera ready. "Hmmm, this could be harder than I thought." I
found a big pile of ties and dropped off my gear, hiding it casually as
nobody seemed to be around. Just then I spotted a man in a hard-hat with a
clipboard over by the flats and hopper cars. And I saw his truck. I hid my
gear and slipped behind the ties. Time for a reconnaissance run. I prepped
the cameras, and walked off without a tripod for now. Maybe this would be
all I would get? Carefully I went to the place where "exhibitionist jack"
usually rested. The reliable rabbit. The one that was always out sunning
himself. But things must have been hot for him lately. He was not to be
seen. I watched the workman hop into his truck and drive off. I was on my
own. Where was the jack now? How close dare I get? It looked like I'd have
to be on the same side of the tracks as he, and this is not what I'd
anticipated. Somehow the telephoto was supposed to give me a longer line. I
would have to be much closer than I'd planned if I wanted anything decent
in a photo. And this was with a very big lens! The truly unfortunate thing
was that there really wasn't anyplace to hide on that side of the tracks.
The jacks could see me for a mile! I looked and the exhibitionist wasn't in
his usual spot.

I was feeling alone now, and slowly walking along his fence. I stopped
befuddled, what to do now? Looking over and seeing in the
shade there under a small tree, by the fence lying flat in the dirt, it
looked up at me, ten yards away. Round and oblate, I could see the folds in
it's skin. A female. Her fur was buff underneath, with golden tones muted
by both white and black tips. She held her ears flattened along her back,
and her feet under her soft body. The overall effect was one of a large
loaf of fresh baked sourdough lying softly in the gravel. Her eyes were wet
and half closed, and trained on me, head slightly cocked. Her cover blown,
she exploded from under the tree covering twenty yards of flat before I
could react. Her fear flushed out another jack, who paused for a moment to
rise on hind legs to glance around, as if to ask "from what do we flee?"
There was so much excitement in this moment, and it was going quickly, I
had to drop to my knees to steady myself and snap off a series of photos.
"That might be all I get." I thought. The jacks were gone in a few seconds.
I immediately felt badly, I'd gone too fast, too close. Of course they'd
been there! I made my retreat and held behind some railroad flats back
across the tracks. This experience confirmed previous jack encounters. That
they will stay in cover until convinced they are being tracked, or at least
until you are too close for them to hold any longer. They are aware of how
difficult it is to see them. Could I do it again?

Checking shutter speedsand doing calculations, I now mounted the camera on
it's tripod. Dropping
film in pockets and relaxing for a moment, I made my plans. I walked back
out, back towards where I'd last seen the jacks. Searching the cover, I
quickly spotted one of the pair. I stayed back this time letting the lens
do the work. Then I approached a little closer, and crossed the tracks
again. I got a good shot of the hidden bunny watching me cautiously. Now a
train was approaching and I had to back off. Things were going well! I
watched and waited. Nothing happened. I began to lose my patience. I was
still unsettled, and needed to walk around, in doing so, spotting a third
rabbit somewhat north of the pair. It scuttled into the brush immediately.
There is enjoyment and a newfound familiarity that comes with a close
inspection of land which you have previously taken for granted. The train
had passed this place so often! The pair was watching me and made their
escape to the south. Following them I was able to click off some more film.
They had disappeared into the tall fennel bushes as I arrived. Again, I
felt badly, I hadn't wished to pursue them. For a breather, I walked a
short distance to the bay. The salt was heavy in the air. Water fowl padded
slowly away into the rushes. Pylons from an old pier rocked slowly in the
brackish water. My camera begged me to try it out (I am a long telephoto
virgin). It was just as satisfying. White satin egret, and black grebe. I
walked slowly back to where I had had all my luck with the rabbits. I
collected my gear and made a decision to sit and wait near a pile of rocks
on the flat. Another train passed as I readied myself to sit, then
recrossed the tracks towards the blind I had selected. I would be very
close, and not hidden at all. but I'd worn clothes intended to match the
surroundings. I'd count on my stillness to do the rest. I looked over my
spot and settled in. The jacks were still in the fennel. I'd have to be
patient, maybe until dark even. That would be hours away. I was ready!

After settling in I opened some gruyere cheese and a bottle of water.
Another train went by. I noticed how quickly they passed, then the field
returned to stillness. Only the buzz of electricity from an invisible
transformer broke the afternoon. I quickly relaxed. Probably the jacks were
now doing the same. I read a few chapters in a book about Shackleton's
voyage in the Endurance. I feel really fine as a couple more trains pass. I
find myself wondering does anyone see me out here? Surely someone sees the
camera gear! But maybe not! Nothing was happening. After yet another train
passes by, I begin to wonder about the futility of all this. My legs need a
stretch, so I give in to the urge to head back for the lagoon. Nothing
moves in the fennel. At the water, the birds were still feeding. Mallards,
grebes, a kingfisher on a gnarled stump, coots and a solitary snowy egret
hunting voraciously. Every few seconds he would lunge at something and
gobble it down. I ran some more film, clicking a few of the train as it
passed. But my heart was not in the birds and I felt guilty abandoning my
post. I must return! Walking back I couldn't resist cruising near the
fennel, only to once again flush out a jack, he bounded across the tracks
this time and disappeared behind the railroad flats. Oh!, this isn't what I
wanted at all, I don't even know if it is safe for them to go back and
forth. Meddling further, I cross over myself with the intent to flush him
back again, but there was absolutely no movement over there. "I'm blowing
it", I thought.

I return to the rock, my blind, and sat resuming my snack. This time I
would trust only to patience, no more fidgeting, if it wasn't
already too late. The trains, the sound of metal on metal rolling by on
well lubricated bearings quickly faded to silence again and again. The
images of relaxing commuters spreading newspapers on their knees
evaporating as quickly as they appeared. Silence and calm returned. I
became aware of an instinct of safety returning moments after the train
passed. The rabbits surely sensed it in their own way. Now not a sound,
only the monotonous buzz of the transformer on a pole somewhere across the
way. I disappeared into the rocks. Looking down, an ant crossed my gruyere.
Dry dusty twigs and leaves lay on faded litter. Jackrabbits had sat here
leaving pellets of their droppings. I ran them through my fingers. The
light was now getting warmer, the sun sinking and maybe an hour was left. I
noticed details of the landscape and let them pass. I read another chapter
in my book, looking up every so often. The entire flat was now in the shade
of the mountain. I would have to adjust my exposures now. Not much time was
left, would there even be any? Jackrabbits become active at dusk, so I was
still confident that this session was not yet over. But it would be a race
with the light. My equipment ate light, the telephoto and the doubler, I
changed to high speed film. I also shifted to slower shutter speeds. But I
was already down to 1/60, two speeds slower than I would have liked.
Looking up from my paperback, I noticed now a small form in the fennel,
slight movement, two very large ears.

So this would be it! The jack came out tentatively, ears erect, looking
around. Things for him looked OK now.
Out into the open now, look around some more. Perking up, "click". He
notices and disappears into a shallow bush. The ears stick out glowing
orange. But it was quiet, and darkening. The jack could not sit still. He
is back out into the open, again looking. There is no movement, and his
caution subsides and he nibbles at some new grasses. This is "click" really
fun! Jack is feeling OK now, ignores the sound and runs straight for me!
Completely in the open now and very close we start a dance. I lead with my
camera, he following the sounds. He is looking right at me, and pauses to
bite off a stem of fennel. We look each other eye to eye, as he chews the
stalk slowly. Without moving we stare for quite some time. Minutes, maybe
five. Jack stands up sheepishly and "walks" a short way to a small weed.
Giving me a profile now, his wet eye watches alertly. He seems very happy!
If I had to describe it, yes, he seemed alert but carefree! There is in him
now a half hearted effort to hide, and I see his partner holding off, also
ready to follow. Jack has heard the train approaching well before I did. As
I gauge its arrival, my time with jack is running out. I look through my
lens he is there, one last "click" and he has vanished before I press the
shutter.

The 6:00 outbound rolls by and I am alone. I catch a last rump disappearing
behind some pines. They are gone, not far but gone, and so is
the light. I am completely thrilled at my time spent on the grimy flat, out
here in the last place anyone would chose to sit. The sky is now a deep
blue violet, a crescent moon large in the stillness, hanging over a grass
covered slope. It silhouettes a broken old fence. I sit another few minutes
and feel the urge to give back the field to its rightful owners, my new
friends the jacks. I stand quietly and slowly retreat across the tracks.
Now well back, I can watch in the streetlamps two rabbits in frolic on the
flats. It is time to go. Belongings are packed in the dark and I head up
the tracks the mile to the station. I can still see the jacks running
around as I go. I quietly wish them goodnight and good luck. Fare you well
my beautiful creatures! Your ancestors have lived in these grasses for
eons. I wish you survival and a healthy crop of fennel. Maybe it will help
to have seen that some of these strange slow upright creatures care for
you. I wish I could share my experience in a way that would preserve your
world somehow. The walk back was delicious. I ate the rest of my supplies
at the station and awaited my ride home. I still feel a glow from that
afternoon with the jacks. I still pass them every day. It is winter now and
I see them rarely. Usually I see one flattened under a bush in the frosty
grass. Sometimes one is caught in the open and freezes like a yard
ornament. I left part of myself out there that day, and maybe just a part
of jackrabbit thought has entered my life. A very small something, but
tangible. How can such a small thing be explained? Why does it matter, the
lives of a few jackrabbits? Quiet! Pay attention!

Postscript: 1-2-2000

Time  passes, in the fall of 1999 construction began at the foot of San Bruno
Mountain. Large waterfront projects began, five new structures were added, taking
over much of what had been our blacktail jackrabbit habitat. I have since seen
a rabbit here only rarely, They are around still, don't worry,  but how many? I am
hopeful that they were able to move up the mountainside, perhaps there is room
for them up  there. But I know in my heart that somehow we
have yet again stressed an animal population, in my view needlessly. And
while many care about the money that can be made here, another building for
another insurance group... just a hardy few souls consider these small
lives. They are just rabbits.  When you move into a new office or home, consider
those lives you forced out.  When you read your kids an animal story at bedtime
remember these jacks. Couldn't you have occupied an older  building, or redone
one that already exists? 
   Forrest McFarland