Dam Ohop Creek

Day 312: Since my "Forest Succession" nature walk in the Ohop Valley, I have been puzzling over the aspect of human psychology which compels us to interfere. I can't claim to have come up with the rationale, but it strikes me that it is intrinsically linked to our insistence that others conform to what we consider "right," whether it is our religious belief, our political agenda, or even just our side of the nonsensical argument of whether the faces on our paper money should be centered or offset. This came up because one of the people attending my walk (someone not affiliated with the Land Trust) told me that when he sees a beaver dam blocking a creek, he opens a portion of it to allow fish easy passage, claiming that he used to work for Fish and Wildlife and by inference, that he knows better how to manage the ecology better than Mother Nature. I attempted to reason with him (asserting my side of the argument, and here I damn myself for committing the very offense which is the subject of my rant), explaining that the healthiest, strongest migrating fish will leap over a small dam such as this one, or that by the time the upstream migration occurs, high water will make passage much easier. The unstated and unjustifiable assertion that "fish are better than beavers" bothers me. Who are we to make that determination? What gives us the right? Why can't we just leave it alone (whatever "it" is), and let Nature follow her own course? She managed the balancing act quite well until we insisted on getting involved.

Xanthoria Polycarpa On My Beat

Day 311: Recently, I gave a talk to a group of Park volunteers which was primarily focused on lichen species. The first half was conducted indoors and a field trip through Longmire Campground was scheduled for the second half. The field-trip hour turned into two and a half as I conducted part of the group through a more extensive exploration as their enthusiasm gave me the opportunity to talk about one of my favourite subjects. With some adaptations, I will be using the same lecture material for a Nisqually Land Trust talk in a few weeks, but since the Pacific Northwest will soon be entering its autumn weather pattern (read, "rain"), I'm planning an indoor "field trip" for the attendees. To that end, I want to gather specimens of a dozen or so of our most common lichen genera to have available for "hands-on," and one species which I most wanted to demonstrate was Xanthoria polycarpa, so showy with its bright orange colour. That presented a small problem: the only place I knew where I could collect a sample without spending a lot of time driving was behind the gate to a closed community where a friend used to live (and no, I don't know any of her former neighbours). I was about to despair of finding it in a more accessible location when lo and behold, there it was, growing on an ancient Oregon Ash beside one of the waypoints for my Land Trust "Forest Succession" talk, right on my very own beat, and I'd never noticed it before. Maybe I'd been too focused on the Poison Hemlock nearby. Funny how a little thing like that can distract you.

Verbascum Blattaria, Moth Mullein

Day 304: Moth Mullein (Verbascum blattaria) is a non-native species and in some states (notably Colorado) is listed as an invasive. In my limited experience with it, it has not been difficult to eradicate and in fact, if growing in an area where taller grasses abound, it will "shade out" (die off from lack of light) before it becomes a problem. It was introduced to the North American continent from Eurasia and has been reported in every state with the exceptions of Minnesota and Wyoming. It is a biennial, flowering in the second year from seed. Quoting Wikipedia, "In a famous long-term experiment, Dr. William James Beal, then a professor of botany at Michigan Agriculture College, selected seeds of 21 different plant species (including V. blattaria) and placed seeds of each in 20 separate bottles filled with sand. The bottles, left uncorked, were buried mouth down (so as not to allow moisture to reach the seeds) in a sandy knoll in 1879. The purpose of this experiment was to determine how long the seeds could be buried dormant in the soil, and yet germinate in the future when planted. In 2000, one of these bottles was dug up, and 23 seeds of V. blattaria were planted in favorable conditions, yielding a 50% germination rate."

Eatonville Salmon Fest

Day 4: Eatonville's Salmon Fest may not be the biggest event on the calendar, but there's no admission fee and for its size, there are loads of fun activities. Immediately adjacent to our Nisqually Land Trust booth, you could have a henna application or get your face painted, or you could make a salmon print on paper or a t-shirt (100% cotton shirts available for purchase at $8 for adult sizes, or you could bring your own). Both Cris and I opted to buy shirts on site (mine is the black one). Prints were free.

I don't imagine you've heard of salmon printing before, but you may have heard of leaf printing, i.e., art made by applying paint to a leaf and then transferring it by pressing the painted surface to paper. Salmon printing follows the same principle, only instead of a leaf, you use a salmon. Yeah, that's what I said...a salmon, a real one. Hatchery fish, previously frozen, were supplied for the purpose, and the same fish were used throughout the day. Prospective salmon-print artists lined up four to six deep at times to dab tempera or textile paint on dead fish with sponge applicators or small paintbrushes, and then with the help of an assistant at the booth, the "canvas" of paper or cloth was patted gently, moulding it to the fish's body. The resultant prints were then hung to dry. When done on fabric, the print must be ironed to set the paint before washing. It's not often that you get to take home a one-of-a-kind souvenir from a fair!

Scotch Broom Pull

Day 317: This one is for everybody who asked, "What's a weed wrench?" after a recent post. Cris Peck, volunteer coordinator with the Nisqually Land Trust was happy to pose with this most marvelous tool during our Scotch broom pull today.

And now for the story. It didn't quite go according to plan. We had been slated to pull broom along the bank of the Mashel River not far above its confluence with the Nisqually, but in the process of descending to the river's edge, the rudimentary trail passed through a thicket of Snowberry. That was when the first evidence of yellowjacket activity made itself felt...on my temple. I ki-yi-yied that I'd been stung, and no sooner than the two people in front of me reacted by picking up the pace, another one nailed me on the back of the neck.  Then one of the other members of the group was attacked.

There didn't seem to be any angry "bees" on the rocky river bar, but once we left the open space to reach the Scotch broom-infested section, I got nailed again on the hand and another member of the group was also stung. Charly, one of the Land Trust's representatives bravely returned to the truck for Benadryl in case any of us had an allergic reaction. I happen to be severely allergic to honeybee stings, not so much so yellowjackets. Nevertheless I'll be miserable for the next few days before my skin turns black and peels off in great thick sheets.

With the Scotch broom heavily guarded by killer yellowjackets, we readjusted our priority to pulling Spotted Knapweed and Tansy Ragwort from the safer shingle. After about two and a half hours of extracting invasives, we all zipped ourselves snugly into our raingear, leaving as little skin exposed as possible, and beat a very hasty retreat up the embankment via a slightly different route. No one was stung on exit.

At this point, one member of the group left us. The three Land Trust representatives and I went to a different site where we spent the next four hours with the weed wrenches, gleefully pulling Scotch broom. I now have in enough hours for a special award which will be handed out at the annual picnic next month. Who says it's not about the numbers?

Dipping The Ocean Dry...

Day 312: Several circumstances led to this unscheduled solo work party, the first being that I had an appointment in Eatonville this morning. On my way down, I said to myself, "Maybe I should swing by Ohop to see if the Mad Tire Bomber has left me any more presents."

A little further down the road, I began thinking about a Park project, entirely unrelated and two weeks off, involving removal of small alders from the roadside. I would be working with a crew of ten or more, and the call had already gone out for extra tools such as lopping shears. I had a pair I intended to bring, and was thinking along the lines of trying to round up a couple of weed wrenches when a second idea hit me. "If I stopped at the hardware store and bought another pair of loppers, I could cut some blackberries when I get down to Ohop."

You see the Plan emerging, don't you? By purchasing a second pair of loppers, I'd have two to loan to the Park project, plus I could put in some extra time for the Land Trust after my appointment.

A pair of heavy-duty loppers with telescoping handles struck my fancy. The price was right. I laid my money down and after my appointment, spent two hours giving them an introduction to what it means to work under my command. The two of us (Crow and loppers) cleared a patch about 10' x 15', allowing one tree a little breathing room even though in the overview, it looks like an attempt to dip the ocean dry with a teaspoon.

The upshot of this day's work was unexpected. In turning in my report on the labor performed, I happened to mention the upcoming Park project. The Land Trust volunteered their stock of weed wrenches for our use!

How Invasives Transport

Day 294: While we're on the subject of invasive and introduced species, I'd like to present an example of the process in action. While working on my Nisqually Land Trust site yesterday, I picked up litter and removed several old tires to a location where they are out of sight to await pickup by another crew. I had to walk through grass and weeds to reach the "drop" about 25 feet from the roadside. In the process, my clothing and shoes gathered an abundance of seeds, including those of Cleavers (Galium aparine). It is easy to see why Cleavers got its common name. The seed capsule is a round 1/8" burr covered in tiny hooks. While grass seeds can be rubbed out of socks and off trouser legs, Cleavers requires a painstaking, one-by-one removal. It took me twenty minutes to de-seed myself before going home.

Moth Mullein, Verbascum Blattaria

Day 293: Moth Mullein is an introduced species, but is not on the "hit list" of invasives, so I did not feel compelled to pull it up when I found it growing on my Nisqually Land Trust beat. To be fair, it's near the road edge. Had I found it further onto the property, I would have uprooted it. In the four or five years I've been patrolling the area, I have never observed it attempting to spread. Like many species of "wild" flower, it undoubtedly escaped from a pioneer's garden where it may have been planted deliberately as a memory of a former home.

Here you have an argument I have presented to many people. It is human nature to transport things from one location to another, whether it's a favourite plant, a piece of rock or a handful of seashells which might some day confound the archaeologist who unearths them in North Dakota. The act of carrying seeds from one place to another is the way of Man, and therefore could be defined as a valid mode of transport (speaking botanically), just as seeds are borne on the wind, in water or caught in the fur of animals. Take this line of thought one step further, and it suggests that we are interfering with Nature by forbidding transport of botanical materials across political boundaries.

Don't take me too seriously here. I use the same argument for feeding birds. It's human nature. While in the extreme, either practice can disrupt an ecosystem, but if practiced in moderation, it all balances out.

Willow Flycatcher, Empidonax Traillii

Day 280: Last night, a geocache was published in LaGrande and I was certain that the Eatonville crowd would be stumbling over each other in the hopes of being able to claim "first to find." I knew better than to bother trying to get there before them. I'm farther away, and in any event, they'd probably have gotten the notification on their cell phones long before it ever hit my computer. I didn't even bother looking at the listing when I got up this morning, but when boredom set in and I decided to go birdwatching in Ohop Valley, I said, "What the heck, might as well pick up that cache while I'm at it." Oddly, no one had logged it. I saw that there were two people tracking it, usually a pretty good indicator that there's something wrong with the coordinates or that the hide is harder than the ratings suggest. Still, it was en route (more or less...a section of the road was closed, necessitating a detour), so off I went. I was pleasantly surprised to find a blank log book when I got there. Now I'm wondering what happened to the Eatonville cachers!

Then I was off to my real mission for the day: trying to capture a Yellowthroat with the camera at the Nisqually Land Trust property where I am a Site Steward. Oh, I heard them in abundance, but the little stinkers were staying in cover. I spotted Cedar Waxwings at a distance, and as I was training the lens on them from a bridge, movement below caught my eye. I saw a flash of wings, followed them to some brush overhanging the creek, and from the flight pattern, I was sure I was seeing Flycatchers. Since I've observed and confirmed Empidonax traillii at this location before, I was fairly certain that's what I was seeing.

Flycatchers are masters of camouflage, and I shot up several dozen frames trying to get a photo which would demonstrate how neatly they blend into the background. Their pale overall coloration and darker wing markings effectively conceal them in the habitat of dried reeds and twigs. Seen against murky, brownish stream water, their colors resemble the sparkle and shimmer. As I watched, several birds made repeated short flights, tagging the surface of the water with their beaks and wings, returning to the tangle of branches with tasty bugs in their mouths. Like fish, they followed the "hatch," first working from the brush, then shifting position to a small stump in mid-flow, then back again to the brush. They were amazing efficient at their work.

Birdwatching is of course one of my favorite sports, but couple it with another recreation such as hiking, bicycling or geocaching, and I'll have to say you'd need to work hard to top that. Flycatchers are the icing on the cake!

Talk To The Hat

Day 278: There's a story among those of us who have spent a good portion of our lives alone, and I first heard it related about a fence-rider in the Australian Outback. A new-chum happened upon him one day while he was holding forth an animated argument with his hat where it was jammed down on a post, and reported back to his mates at the bunkhouse that the poor old sod was going a bit barmy and might be due for a spell back among human companions. "Nah, 'e's orright," the new-chum was told. "Not to worry, so long as the 'at don't answer 'im back."

I haven't reached the point at which the hat responds in kind, although I do discuss the price of tea in China with various rocks, trees and small wildlife, and have been known to reproach a piece of barbed wire with an epithet and a demand to "Gimme back my sleeve, willya? I don't have all day to stand here waitin' for you to let go of me. I've got work to do." Brambles are often accosted in much the same manner, as are puncheon bridges which grab the point of a walking stick, refusing to give it up to allow me a normal walking pace. It sometimes seems that objects have minds of their own, particularly when met in Nature, but so far, none has expressed itself within my hearing.

Hardhack, Spiraea Douglasii

 
Day 276: Hardhack is a member of the family of Spiraeas, but instead of bearing its flowers in a flat cluster, it sends up tall spikes. Technically a shrub, it is a rather weedy plant, often forming thick cover for wildlife where it fills in wetlands. It is the most common Spiraea in western Washington and a cousin, Spiraea menziesii, is found more often on the east side of the mountains. The two may be distinguished by the presence or absence of fine, matted hairs on the back side of the leaves.

Door Prize Print

Day 264: My luck with winning door prizes or any other type of drawing is notoriously bad, so when tickets were handed out at the Nisqually Land Trust's Volunteer Appreciation picnic yesterday, I had little expectation of walking away with anything. Indeed, about half the numbers had been called by the time mine was drawn out of the hat, but the prizes provided by the Trust were exceptional. Many had been donated by members of the Nisqually Tribe with whom the Trust is partnered, and there were a number of beautiful prints of Coastal art. As a student of this style of painting, I was utterly delighted to see that a selection was still available when I went up to the table to make my choice. I picked "Bella Coola Sun" by Jim Johnny. After all, Raven stole fire from the Sun to bring light and warmth to the People.

From the back of the print, "Jim Johnny is a well-knkown Kwaguilth artist. Jim is 36 years of age and living with his family in Victoria, British Columbia. His early training was by the internationally known Tony Hunt. He is known for his precise detail and indepth (sic) knowledge of the traditional styles. BELLA COOLA SUN -- The Sun design shows warmth reaching from the life giving sun to the people on earth."

I am delighted to hang this print on my wall to accompany "Spawning Salmon" by Joe Wilson.

Nature Mapping In Ohop Valley

Day 263: The Nisqually Land Trust's annual Volunteer Appreciation Picnic was held today, so I decided to take a little time out en route to do some nature mapping of my regular beat in Ohop Valley. The requirements for this particular type of nature mapping are simple: pick a spot which you can reliably find again, set up your camera and take four pictures, one in each of the cardinal directions. I have my spot marked with a GPSr. The challenge is in getting to it! When I chose the location, the grass had been compacted by winter rains. Now it stands as high as my waist, sometimes reaching shoulder or head height. Lurking in amongst it are thistles, teasels and the occasional patch of Poison Hemlock, just to keep things exciting. It's only a few hundred feet from parking, but when I reached my marker today, I felt like I'd won a minor skirmish with the elements.

Then the issue of finding the landmarks arose. The grass obscured the logs in the creek which I normally use to set the "north" shot. The fencepost for "east" was visible, but the creek beyond was barely visible. "South" and "west" had grass stems in front of the lens which I had to bend down to have a reasonably clear but still representative shot. Even the distant horizon was obscured by the abundant grass. If these shots aren't exactly aligned on the same compass bearing as my previous submissions, don't blame me. Blame Ma Nature!

Frog-o-Rama

Day 224 (Part B): It was a froggy day down on the Nisqually Land Trust property in Ohop Valley. I've been watching for these critters to show up for some time now, and today, the wait was over. They're a pretty jumpy lot, these...the slightest vibration from a footfall sends them leaping into the water, but experience has taught me that if you wait patiently, any given frog usually returns to its post within ten minutes or so.

These are not small frogs by any means. They would easily cover my palm. Some are vividly green like the fellow hiding under the reed in the top photo, but others are almost blue in color like the chap on the bottom. I do not know what species they are, and can only hope they're not the type considered "invasive" in many Washington waterways.

Frog Bridge

Day 224 (Part A): While on patrol for invasive weeds and litter at the Nisqually Land Trust property in Ohop Valley today, I had to work my way through waist-high grass to reach the water's edge where a beer case was lodged against the shoreline. In doing so, my heavy footfalls startled a number of bullfrogs. As I looked around for the source of the splashes, my eye was caught by the reeds floating on the water and mud-puppies resting on a rock just below the surface. It was only then that I noticed the graceful arc of the bridge where it was reflected and the inviting visual line created by old posts marching beneath the span. "That's worth a picture," I said to myself. I snapped a couple of quick shots and then remembered that I had the tripod in the car. "Oh, I can do an HDR of this!"

By the time I got back (the car was a quarter mile away), a few frogs had returned. Again, my descent to the water's edge was punctuated by enormous splashes. I set up the tripod and planted my feet in one spot, determined not to move until at least one frog made an appearance. After all, I was going to be there a while, but I knew I had to be perfectly still to have any chance of capturing one in the lens. I got sidetracked listening to Yellowthroats chanting, "Wickedoo-wickedoo-wickedoo, WEET!" and shifted my weight. Splash! A foot from my foot, a bullfrog dived into the water. I hadn't known he was there.

Eventually, I got a couple of frog photos as well as the requisite exposures for an HDR image (in this case, I used five). Stay tuned for Part B! That's where the frogs come in!

Ohop Homestead

Day 206: As I understand it, the old house associated with the farm in the Nisqually Land Trust's Ohop Valley property is on the Federal register as an historical building. There's not much left of it but the footprint, any wood having long since been removed or consumed by bugs. Made of granite which must surely have been brought in from another part of the state, the walls encompass a single-room floorplan about twelve feet square. If there had been a ceiling in the building at some time, it might have been low enough to make a person of my five-foot height bow their head.

It humbles me to think what the pioneer generations must have endured. Truly, these would be considered cramped quarters for a single occupant these days, and no doubt a large family was raised in this very building, lacking in amenities such as running water and possibly even a wintertime heat source. There is no evidence of a chimney or hearth in this enclosure, only bare and rocky ground. Yet knowing no other way of life, the people who lived here had great dreams of turning Ohop Valley into an agricultural triumph. They defeated themselves by straightening the meanders of the creek in an attempt to drain the wetland, only to find that the substrate was clayey and unworkable. Their venture failed for the most part.

Today, the meanders of Ohop Creek have been restored, the valley replanted with native shrubs and trees. It is well on its way to rediscovering itself as habitat for wildlife, as evidenced by the rich numbers of bird species I have observed here over the years. Ohop Valley's success lies not in farming, but in being a wetland, per its original job description.

Stewardship

Day 202: Happy Mother's Day! What's that you say? No, I did not misspeak myself. Today is Earth Day, the day we celebrate the great Mother of us all, and I could think of no better way to honor her than by doing a patrol of my Site Steward's beat along Ohop Creek in the Nisqually Land Trust's property.

In the line of duty as a Site Steward, I police litter from the lands, search out invasive species and remove them or report them for removal, make observations of wildlife and native plants, and engage in nature-mapping with my camera. I make contact with locals who stop by, and explain to them why and how we are working to restore this area to its natural state. Today was particularly rewarding for me since I was able to document photographically the presence of Yellowthroats, an elusive bird which has never before come in range of my lens. The photos I took are far from field-guide quality, but they allowed me to make a 100% positive identification of this member of the Warbler family.

This area has been planted with at least a dozen species of native shrub/tree, and the saplings's trunks will be guarded by protective plastic sleeves for several years until the plants are established. Behind me and just in front of the evergreen horizon, you will see trees I helped plant over twenty years ago. As the Earth is my Mother, those trees are my children and my legacy.