Pileated Woodpecker, Dryocopus Pileatus

Day 139: Yesterday, the Park's hazard-tree removal chief was on the job, showering the ground with bits of bark and wood as he jack-hammered away. I'd spotted him on my way over to the volunteer campground, but a glint of sun off the lens of my camera sent him flying before I could focus but, diligent worker that he is, he returned and resumed his task almost immediately, although on a different tree. Here, he could be seen to get to the heart of the matter as he pecked away, head and shoulders well inside the cavity he'd created. So consumed by his employment that my presence was largely dismissed as trivial, he allowed me to creep closer, a few feet at a time, until I had him in range.

"He," I say, and yes, I can give you proof of that. Note the red "moustache" sweeping back from his beak. That is the telling point. In the female, it is black. Dryocopus pileatus is the Pacific Northwest's largest woodpecker with a wingspan of 29" and a length of 16.5". In flight, the underwing shows white coverts, and the length of the tail is obvious. Woodpeckers of all sorts use the tail for leverage and balance, bracing it against a tree trunk or other surface to power their drilling. They forage for insects (particularly carpenter ants) on dead trees or sometimes on fallen logs.

Frankia Nodules

Day 138: My initial reaction when I spotted these at a distance was, "Oooooooh, slime mold!" but when I got closer and saw the network of fine roots, I realized I'd been fooled again. Frankias are nitrogen-fixing bacteria which live on the roots of various trees and plants, especially those in stressed conditions where natural nutrients are limited. The different strains of Frankia tend to be specific to certain hosts. In this instance, the host roots belong to Alnus rubra (Red Alder), a tree quite common to the lowlands of western Washington. Experiments with Frankia inoculation have been done successfully to increase performance of Alder stands in poor soils, and although I'm not sure that was the case at this location, there certainly seems to be a lot of it, waiting to trick me into thinking I've found a slime mold, if only momentarily.

First Day Of Skunk Cabbage

Day 137: Happy First Day of Skunk Cabbage! I thought I might be a bit ahead of the calendar since this event usually occurs in mid-March, but the swamp behind Swofford Pond served up about two dozen fully open spathes. Lots more were just poking through and I had to be very careful where I put my feet as I made my way across from firm spot to firm spot. Having achieved my primary goal for the day, I then went on to hike two of Cowlitz Wildlife's nature trails in the area for a total of roughly four miles, searching for lichens and fungi. It was a productive day, although now I'm faced with the task of identifying species, several of which did not leap out of the field guides on the first pass. That said, life would be rather boring if I had no botanical puzzles to attempt to solve.

Seeing Double

Day 136: Roughly twenty-five years ago, the optometrist I'd been using for most of my adult life was forced to retire due to health concerns. For the next several years, I bounced from one doctor to another until I finally found one who was satisfactory. Now bear in mind that my vision is quite poor and had been steadily declining over the years. I was used to having to get stronger and stronger corrections as often as my insurance and budget would allow. There came a point when the possibility of bringing my sight to 20/20 appeared impossible, and I thought nothing of the fact that I was seeing a faint secondary image in offset when I looked at road signs or billboards. What I did not realize was that the new optometrist had dropped prism correction from my prescription without telling me. I might have gone on with double vision for the rest of my life if my insurance company hadn't dropped that doctor from their network. Earlier this month, I saw yet another new doctor. When he asked me if I had any particular concerns, I mentioned the double vision, expecting him to tell me I had cataracts. Instead, he asked, "Have you ever had prism correction in your lenses?" When I told him I thought it was there, he said, "No, not in these. Let's try something." He went on to explain that prism would pull the two images together, eliminating the secondary smear. When my new glasses arrived last week, I noticed an immediate improvement in the clarity of road signs, but the real surprise came when I drove home from Seattle in the dark on Monday. I was no longer being blinded by headlight beams shattered into a thousand points of light! I can see clearly for the first time in at least ten years.

Snowdrift

Day 135: Dear little Snowdrops! Your enthusiastic encouragement of the weather toward sun and warmer temperatures is inspiring, if a little unrealistic when one compares the drift of your immaculate blossoms to the whitened hills rising above your beds. I see you shivering in the wind despite your valiant efforts to deny its chill, and not a one of you casts a shadow detectable by my despairing eye. Still, I take heart in your courage as you dare the clouds to part and the buds of hazel, maple and ash to burst, and I see you as you attempt to coax the daffodils into putting on a performance for the equinox. Will the crocuses join them, and the lilacs? Please, dear Snowdrops, draw them out of hiding to colour my yard with their cheer. The winter has gone on too long and should be retired from service to make way for the grace of flowers.

Visual Metaphor

Day 134: Rural residents of Washington have been able to vote by mail for decades, and I believe the option now extends to urban residents as well. I used to think this was a good thing, but several other factors make me very nervous. Some time ago, we went to numbered ballots and a big deal was made out of the fact that you can check on line to see if your ballot number has been counted. In the current presidential primary, you are required to declare a party affiliation by checking the appropriate box on the outside of the return envelope. Your name and your ballot number also appear on the return envelope, and therefore may not be quite as "confidential" as you are led to believe. Once completed, your ballot can be dropped at a collection site or it can be put in the mail...to pass through the hands of any number of postal employees and/or contract carriers who can see your party declaration. While I'd like to believe that everyone who handles my ballot is a fine, upstanding citizen, the current political climate does not allow me that comfort. Even if I had that assurance, I'm still left with the feeling that my vote is...well, surely you've picked up on the visual metaphor in the photo by now.

I'm The Baby, Gotta Love Me

Day 133: They're getting braver, particularly the Chessies. I'd gone out to add birdseed to the feeders following my usual pattern: half the small seed in the nearest box, the remainder of the small seed in the farthest box and, using the same measuring cup, a scoop of black-oil seed on top of that, but in the amount of time it took to fill the cup with the sunflower seed and entirely unbeknownst to me, one of the 'dee-dees had already dived in. As I went to tip the cup into the tray, my little friend burst out the other side, indignant at having a hand interrupt his breakfast. He sat in the contorted filbert, scolding me while I filled the rest of the feeders, although his many companions who had not been personally affronted by my invasion flocked around me as I filled the rest of the feeders. With the exception of the Porch Parrots who will always be my favourites, I am more thrilled to have Chickadees than any other species of bird which visits my yard. It only took thirty years to entice them here from across the road...three decades, that's all. I think I'm justified in posting yet another Chickadee photo.