Raptor sex, spy plane intrusion make for bizarre hike near Point Mugu

Ever see red-tail hawks sexually engaged while in flight above a windswept canyon?

I witnessed this spectacle on Christmas Eve, while hiking up La Jolla Canyon Loop Trail within Point Mugu State Park in the northern Santa Monica Mountains.

There was screeching during aerobatic foreplay. There was connection, 200 feet above ground, followed by a whirlybird freefall and disengagement just yards from impact.

Then there was the mother of interruptions. The canyon shuddered and roared, ear-splittingly; it was as if a rocket approached.

The hawks bolted for cover. I leaned against a canyon wall and aimed skyward with my camera, prepared to capture the fiery explosion and win (posthumously, of course) all kinds of awards.

But thank heavens, it turned out to be merely some bizarre-looking radar plane from the nearby naval base.

It was the only bird I’d bag all afternoon; the hawks were too distant and squirrelly.

But it was an interesting beginning to a hike on one of my favorite trails in one of my favorite Southern California wilderness parks.

To me, the military presence -- with its occasional odd sights and sounds -- adds to the charm of a remote path  that meanders for about five miles and requires less than three hours to complete.

I pushed onward and upward, listening to the renewal of love chatter among hawks, ultimately emerging atop the canyon where a wheat-colored plain unfurled to the west.

Big-sky country, right here in the Southland.

There are a series of these vast meadows, each of them crisscrossed with game trails. I was fortunate to have had the wind in my face as I startled a coyote who seemed embarrassed to have been caught unawares.

Then the spy plane returned, sending all manner of wildlife into deep cover. It presented a nice silhouette against a stream of cotton-colored clouds, though, so I aimed and shot while sensing that somebody, perhaps in the distant hilltop installation or in the plane itself, had placed me under observation.

There'd be no more encounters with large critters, but between big-bird sightings -- the radar plane buzzed overhead every 30 minutes or so -- there'd be periods of remarkable serenity.

I roamed this island in the sky for a spell longer before beginning my descent as the sky darkened and the wind gathered in advance of a wild Christmas storm.

It was a raucous afternoon, and it would not be a silent night.

-- Pete Thomas

Photo credits: Pete Thomas / Los Angeles Times