Pinnacles Wildlife-viewing Day Trip - Mostly a California Condor Convergence

I attempt, every year, as close to the solstice as possible (when the days are short and the condors are in the midst of their courting displays), to trek down to Pinnacles, climb to High Peaks, and await California condor convergences. They can happen anytime throughout the day, but are most likely in the late afternoon and possibly again just as dusk settles. I waited most of the day to get a glimpse of even the most distant speck of a condor soaring above the horizon. I even mistook a massive military style four-propeller plane for an approaching bird when I feared the only condor I'd see was my condor kite which never manages to stay up for more than a few minutes. The winds atop High Peaks are magical, gently breaking the silence with a whisper (and I wish that I could use them as a soundtrack, but my camera seems only to capture an ugly roar and the annoying noises of the inner workings of the camera itself) but they are also fickle, and seldom consistent enough to keep my artificial condor airborne. Suddenly at around 2:45 pm (early in my estimation) a pair of condors arrived on scene, and within ten minutes there were at least eight and probably ten condors circling the High Peaks area and soaring ever closer to inspect the odd stranger in the center of one of their favorite haunts. While I was attempting to capture the magnificence of their aerial feats, struggling with my unruly and ever-unfocusing camera, I could hear the roar of the wind through their feathers overhead (another astonishing sound I only rarely capture in my recordings). I saw my old friend Ventana Condor 726 aka "Little Stinker," this time accompanied by a bird other than her supposed mate. I watched Pinnacles condor 589 courting his mate -- Ventana condor 569 (also known as "Phoebe the Forager") -- and for the first time since I started stalking the birds, was able to observe two generations of condors -- Pinnacles condor 1145 -- last year's offspring of 569 and 589 (they are a unique pair having raised chicks on an annual basis -- including in 2023 -- as condors generally nest only every other year). They paid her no particular mind, but after the others had left, Little Stinker flew in to chase her from her perch and join the group as they vanished into the endless sky. As quickly as they had arrived, they departed, perhaps having their curiosity satisfied, or becoming bored with the clay-footed stranger in their midst. Pinnacles condor 1145 is the darkest of the birds (having not even nearly grown into her adult peach, orange, yellow and lilac adult skin about the head and neck), with no visible tag, in the video. Also I was fortunate that one of the condors, Pinnacles condor 986 -- one of the few named ("Kawkikat") Pinnacles birds, decided to settle right next to a turkey vulture, and here you can see the two side by side for comparison. Turkey vultures are puny standing next to condors. Since 589 is courting his mate as winter freezes in, I can only hope that they will continue to be the "super parents" Pinnacles describes them as, and that they manage to raise another chick in the New Year. The soundtrack I chose in lieu of silence is Pachelbel's Canon as performed (arranged? since there are multiple instruments playing) by Steven David Tung and obtained from musopen.org where it is described as being free of copyright restrictions. I had to trim the opening to make it fit the timeline. Much of the footage is on the poor side of fair, but the birds are so beautiful I'm loathe to cut anything out. Condors featured in this piece are 569, 588, 726, 943, 986, 1021 and 1145. I believe there were others circling and cavorting as well, but I was unable to identify them.

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