Field ID Fail

Day 169: When I'm tutoring people in how to do "field-guide" photography, I often use birds as an example. The same method can be applied to Meadow Rovers who are trying to educate Park visitors with respect to being able to identify those little LBJs (Little Brown Jobs) they always ask about. This is the second of a series of illustrations I'll be using in a Rover training session this June.

When observing any species of bird or plant or anything else, it is important to capture as much information as possible, whether by eye or with a camera. A bird viewed head-on supplies very little in the way of distinguishing features. You might be able to see an eye ring or breast markings, but that's often insufficient to make a solid ID. Were there bars on the wings? Was the body colouration uniform? What did the silhouette look like? Was it short and squat, or did it have a sleek outline? What shape was the beak? The famous "Angry Bluebird" is certainly a cute photo, but as far as being helpful in making an ID, it is a classic fail. A square-on side view of a bird is much more informative! Likewise, wildflower IDs often require being able to observe the leaf as well as the flower. If you can't get both in one shot, take two! That way, the ranger at the information desk will be much more likely to be able to help you.

They Always Ask

Day 168: Recently, our Meadow Rover manager asked me if I'd be willing to do a training session for Meadow Rovers on the subject of birds. Well, that's a rather broad subject! We tossed it around a bit and after some further thought on my part, I decided to go with "Helping Visitors Identify Birds." Since I am technologically challenged and have no idea how to go about setting up a Power Point presentation, I have to go at this the old-fashioned way, posters and pointy-stick. This morning, I worked on the first of several 2' x 3' cards: "BURD!" It shows an imaginary species loosely based on a passerine with various field-identification points emphasized: eyebrow, "ear", throat marking, collar, wing bars, breast markings, tail bands, etc. I nicked the basic illustration from a field guide and enlarged it with a pantograph (I told ya this was doing it the old-fashioned way), inked it with a calligraphy pen and coloured it with crayons. Doesn't look like two hours' work, but it was! I still have several other posters planned. Fortunately, I have a month to get them done!

An Idea Of Angle

Day 167: I have to fill in here a bit. Y'see, I need to go back up to Sulphur Creek Falls to get a better picture of something unusual. I took several shots of it earlier this week, but when you're in dark forest trying to run a camera one-handed because your other hand is holding on tightly to a root so you don't roll downhill, your focusing ability is somewhat hampered and you wind up with a picture which isn't quite blog-worthy, but was good enough for a team of experts to make a sound identification. To give you a rough idea of what I was up against, see the slope immediately behind me in this photo? I had just come directly down it. Thoughts en route included, "If that rock rolls, I'm going to break something," and "If I slip here, I'm gonna bust my leg off at the hip," and "Damn, that moss is slick! If the bark on this log peels, I'm dead." Are you getting the picture?

A good hiker/explorer plans exit routes for those just-in-case moments when they can't be sure of the solidity of the next step. All my Plan Bs seemed to end with, "No, that's not a good idea either," followed by a mental image of compound fracture of the tibia or worse. That said, I have only broken myself once while adventuring, and that was on a climb when my blithe snowy glissade suddenly turned into an ice-slide at high speed and sent me sailing over a lip to land my tailbone hard on a pointy boulder. I have gone into some very treacherous terrain alone (quite often, if the truth be told), and count on my route-finding abilities and good balance to keep me in one piece. There are no alternate routes into Sulphur Creek Falls, or at least none which don't require a partner and a rope.

Why do I go? Not to be glib, but "because it's there." Or "because I can," especially at my age. I have always been adventuresome. What's over the hill or up the gorge is something I simply must see with my own eyes. The day I stop wanting seeking out the strange new worlds of the Pacific Northwest will be the day my spirit dies within me, leaving the husk to follow at its leisure. For me, there is nothing more exciting than the discovery of something I haven't seen before, whether it's a rare species of mushroom, a new lichen, or just what's at the top of another bump in the terrain. So why do I go alone? Because I like my adventures like I like my scotch: straight up. Or straight down, as the case may be.

Toothless

Day 166: We have quite a few species of snail in the Pacific Northwest and among the most common is Allogona townsendiana, the Oregon Forest Snail. The shell is brown and marked with thin, light lines when these snails are young, but the colour is only a papery layer which peels off in age, revealing a blue-white base. That said, Allogona can be confused with other species in age, and the most definitive feature for field identification is the absence of a tooth-like structure in the aperture. The Oregon Forest Snail is quite toothless!

Height Matters

Day 165: It's hard for me to make any progress along the trail when it's flanked by alder trees because that's where I'm likely to find one of my favourite lichens, the tiny (1/4" long) dashes of Graphis scripta. That said, I have made an observation which has so far held true: height matters. I always have to bend down to locate it. I have not yet seen it more than 3.5" from the ground regardless of exposure. None of my field guides mention this phenomenon and indeed it may not be universal. There are still a lot of alders out there which I haven't checked. I may never get where I'm going!

Unexpected Lesson

Day 164: Yesterday as I was reading "Las Flores" (a juvenile book in Heinemann's "Lee y aprende" series), I was surprised by a photo of Skunk Cabbage in the section on scents. "But are there flowers that stink like skunks? In the United States, they call these 'Skunk Cabbage.'" Of course this has to be a literal translation of the plant's common name since they undoubtedly don't grow in the hotter climates where Spanish is spoken, and it certainly wasn't a term covered by any of my dictionaries, so I was delighted to find a way to refer to it. It was one of the things which ran through my mind while I was exploring my favourite bog.

DuoLingo (an on-line language tutor) focuses primarily on grammar, but unfortunately centers around a vocabulary rather alien to my way of life: relationships and social activities. My personal Spanish vocabulary is much larger because I have read books like "Las Flores." I can talk about stamens and pollen and seeds, none of which are within DuoLingo's database. Likewise from my Mega Enciclopedias, I know the names of animals and birds and could discuss their habitats and the threats they face with the same ease that I can translate Duo's social scenarios. Unfortunately, the "science" section in Duo is very near the end of the Spanish lessons, and to get to it, I have to pass through "feelings," "sport," "business," "spiritual,"  and "politics," none of which hold the least bit of interest for me. I am currently at 49% proficiency (the highest score Duo awards is 50-60%), so I am not sure where I will go from here.

Sarcoscypha Coccinea

Day 162: Sarcoscypha coccinea is a species of cup-fungus endemic to the Pacific Northwest and is commonly called Scarlet Elf Cup. Its bright red colour make it easy to spot in the shady forests where it prefers to live. It grows on decaying hardwood (maple, for example), although it often appears to be sprouting directly from the ground when the wood is buried. A short stipe (stalk) may or may not be apparent. The outer surface of the cup is lightly tomentose (fuzzy) and whitens with age. Other similar Sarcoscyphas can be found on the east coast, but S. coccinea can be found solely in the west from California northward. The species fruits in late winter through spring, unlike the majority of other cup-fungi.

Sulphur Creek Falls

Devil's Tower

Day 162: Yesterday's adventure was one with multiple goals. First on the agenda was the hilariously unfortunate sally into the Skunk Cabbage bog, but also on the list were an invasive-plant patrol of the South Swofford Trail where I had previously found both English Holly and Yellow Archangel, and a trek off-trail to Sulphur Creek Falls.

Sulphur Creek Falls is only about half a mile from the trail, but the climb is steep and at this time of year, muddy and slick. That said, spring is the best time to go, because the elk tracks will be overgrown with nettles, salmonberry and devil's-club within just a few more weeks. As anyone who has spent any time negotiating cross-country routes should know, attempting to reach your destination by following a creek bed is ill-advised. It's better to attain a ridgeline when possible, or at the very least, to come in high. Following the elk whenever possible, dragging myself up by roots and branches in places, sliding back down when the forest duff collapsed under my feet, I have made this journey dozens of times, originally to find a geocache but later, simply to enjoy the falls and the privacy.

To get to Sulphur Creek Falls, one first climbs to Devil's Tower, a puzzling 60' rock thumb on the side of a steep slope. It seems an unlikely location for a volcanic plug, but I have no other explanation for this geologic anomaly. At its base, a narrow path of shattered rock takes you to the falls, although to see it clearly, you must descend approximately 100' to the creek on a steep, unstable slope. I've never found an "easy" route down, so care and caution are the by-words here, and the hiker should keep in mind that what goes down must come back up, a job which isn't as easy as it sounds. But oh, what a reward awaits you, especially when the falls is in full spate!

Sulphur Creek Falls

Naturalist At Play

Day 161: For the way today started, the posts I have planned for the next several days will seem rather anti-climactic. You see, I decided to pay my favourite Skunk Cabbage bog a visit today, and while I was there, it occurred to me to take a selfie of the Naturalist At Play. Like any good photographer, I take several shots of the same subject in order to assure myself of having one good one, and in this particular case, I tried for one too many. I was already sinking in almost to the tops of my wellies and when I misjudged and stepped on the same soft spot twice, my right leg went into the mud to knee-depth and I toppled at the moment the shutter clicked (middle photo shows my leg). It's amazing how much thought you can pack into the short time it takes you to fall in slow motion. You realize that because your leg is encased in mud, your muscles are not able to make it respond to the change in balance as it normally would. The motion is inhibited, and since you probably haven't had a lot of practice coping with this particular scenario, the muscles react in the only manner they know. In other words, once you start going over, you don't have the slightest chance of being able to compensate. The only thing you can do is resign yourself to the inevitable and hope for something better than the worst possible outcome. As it was, I only sat down in the bog rather than falling on my back (something I've done previously). Undeterred, I continued on my adventure, the results of which will be featured over the next several days.

Ragbag And Mouse Bottoms

Day 160: Platismatia glauca ("Ragbag" or Varied Rag Lichen) is almost as common in Pacific Northwest forests as Doug fir cones. It is easily recognized by its pale grey-green colour, "limp dishrag" feel and brownish lower surface. Closer observation may reveal soredia on the margins of the lobes. These are "mini-lichens," reproductive structures capable of taking hold in the appropriate medium to become new colonies. Shown here with a fir cone for size comparison, the soredia are barely visible on this fresh, verdant specimen.

As for that fir cone, there's a widely circulated story about Grandfather Douglas Fir giving shelter to the creatures of the forest during a fire. It is not an authentic legend despite popular belief, but it's entertaining nevertheless. During the fire, the frightened animals ran to old Douglas Fir to plead for refuge from the flames, knowing that the Fir's thick bark protects the tree and allows it to survive all but the hottest fires. The elk left footprints on the interior of the cone's scales and the outline can be seen if you peel a dry scale away (mine were too wet). However, the mice were rather late in their approach and when they asked Doug Fir to harbour them, he said, "I don't know...it's awfully crowded in here, but you can try to squeeze in." The mice did so, but couldn't get all the way inside. You can see their little bottoms sticking out of the cone in this picture.

The Fourth Doctor

Day 159: For all of the fact that I deplore both commercialism and plastics, occasionally some "must-have" object crosses my radar and my resolve collapses. As my readers know, I am a huge fan of Star Trek (particularly the Next Generation) and during my less anti-plastic years purchased as many action figures as my budget would permit. For the most part, they now live in a large computer-paper box and only come out for special occasions like photo shoots. That said, I am also a Doctor Who fan and have watched almost every episode of the original series, and naturally have found my favourite Doctors. I bought a Tardis and a Dalek early on and added Doctor #10 to bring substance to the scenario playing out on top of my dresser, but was recently tempted to add Doctor #4 in person of Tom Baker who truly defined the role for all time. What surprised me when I purchased these four toys was the quality when compared to the tacky figures marketed with the Star Trek logo. They resemble the characters with much greater accuracy and are proportionally correct, without the outsized hands designed to hold cumbersome and poorly executed tools seen in the Trek action figures. The joints are designed better and are less obvious as well. If mass-marketing can be done this well, why do things on American shelves have to be so sleazy? The answer, I think, is that these are made to be cherished and handed down to the next generation of Who fans, not discarded upon inevitable breakage. We should take a hint and cultivate a culture which embraces durability rather than planned obsolence. Then perhaps plastics wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Spring Has Sprung

Day 158: There are probably as many versions of this poem as there are those of us who learned it as children. Interchangeable words include "has/is," "riz/ris," "boidies/daisies/posies." It was taught to me by my mother as

Spring has sprung,
The grass is riz,
I wonder where
The daisies is?

The author, despite what you may have heard, was neither ee cummings or Ogden Nash, but one of the most prolific writers ever known, Ann O'Nymous. Her career spans centuries, and she continues to entertain us with new material even today.

This explanation now dispatched, I want to wish my readers a happy Spring via this photo of Coltsfoot, one of our earliest PNW plants to emerge. This specimen is what I formerly would have termed Petasites palmatus, but a quick check of current taxonomy reveals that it has been lumped under P. frigidus as "var. palmatus," the "frigidus" with palmate leaves. (Drat those taxonomists anyway!) Coltsfoot is extremely attractive to one particular species of tiny black-and-white moth (Enchoria lacteata, a geometrid) as well as assorted flies. When the plant is mature, it may stand up to 24" high with leaves the size of dinner plates. While it doesn't have the most pleasant scent or appealing blossoms, it is a sure sign that the more fragrant and beautiful "daisies/posies" are just around the corner.

A Day In The Life Of A Naturalist

Day 157: I bring you two unrelated photos today because...well, because the sun was shining and I actually got outdoors! It's been a long, wet winter. Of course the most exciting part of today was the return of Porch Parrots, i.e., Evening Grosbeaks. A female scout showed up yesterday and was followed today by two males. Once the flock arrives in full force, their appetites will be indulged throughout the summer, and they're likely to go through at least 500 pounds of black-oil sunflower seed. I simply *must* keep my Porchies happy!

Having done my duty by my avian friends, I set out for Pack Forest with GPS in hand thinking to do double duty, hiking and conducting a survey of invasive plants while I was at it. You want invasive species? I'll give you invasive species! Scotch Broom, English Ivy, English Holly, Foxglove and even a small handful of young Tansy Ragwort kept me busy. It took two hours just to write the report!

First Day Of Skunk Cabbage

Day 156: Besides being St. Patrick's Day and in my book more importantly, yesterday proved to be the First Day of Skunk Cabbage. As many of you know, this is one of my annual celebrations. This Arum was my mother's favourite flower, and when it came into bloom each spring, she would pick a single blossom and put it in a vase in the center of the dining room table. Its odor is reminiscent of the animal which gives it its common name, but that was no deterrent. In fact, once you have become accustomed to it, it speaks of clean air. Putting aside my mother's custom of plucking the flower, I begin watching the bogs in late February despite not expecting to see yellow until mid-March, but when the first blooms appear, I go hunting with my camera. Yesterday's local specimens were still quite small, so another foray will be in order to a favourite spot by Swofford Pond, this time with rubber boots instead of trainers. Ah, but the sacrifice was worth it to celebrate the First Day of Skunk Cabbage! Happy Spring!

Brewer's Blackbird

Day 155: Not the best focus in the world because I was shooting through window glass (dirty). For the last couple of years, these guys have been showing up in the spring and sticking around for a few days or weeks just like their cousins. My initial reaction to their arrival is, "Huh? A cowbird with yellow eyes?" and then I remember they're actually Brewer's Blackbirds (Euphagus cyanocephalus, and yes, I just checked the taxonomy to be sure it hadn't changed). This morning, I had both a male and a female. The female is a rather nondescript dark brown bird with dark eyes. If there is any confusion in your mind when you observe this species, watch the behaviour. Cowbirds have a tendency to look upward, as if inquiring as to whether it's going to rain or whether their companion has seen a flying saucer lately.

Orbital Spring

Day 154: Every now and then, I pull out old flower pictures and play with turning them into Orbs. Today, I proceeded slightly differently. I took fresh photos of snowdrops and a crocus (one of two the deer missed), and although I'd originally intended them for separate posts in their original forms, they suggested Orbs to me...soft spring greens and delicate lavender hinting at brighter colours to come. Orbs are enchanting and their creation can be addictive, if for no other reason than to satisfy a curiosity about what may turn up. I've never been able to visualize a specific end-product, so the resultant Orb is always a surprise. Sometimes you just need to do something because you can, the old "because."

The Booger Tree

Day 153: I'll readily admit that I am a poor mycologist. It's taken me the better part of two years to identify the life form which gives the Booger Tree its name. When I first discovered it in the spring of 2015, it was as fresh and plump as you see it here, but by the end of summer, it had withered to a flaky crust, thin as paper and fragile to the touch. When the autumn rains arrived, it rejuvenated and I watched it go through the same cycle again through 2016. In the interim, I took a sample and put it under the microscope. It wasn't the most successful operation, but it did allow me to see the asci, and today, I finally found information confirming what I had observed through the 'scope. That said, this is one time I will dispense with scientific nomenclature in favour of a common term: the Booger Tree will remain the Booger Tree for as long as it and I are standing. (If you're really curious, the scientific name is in the labels.)

Occasion For Hope

Day 152: It was writer John Buchan who said of pastimes piscatorial, "The charm of fishing is that it is the pursuit of what is elusive but attainable, a perpetual series of occasions for hope." The same can be said of gardening, although the chances of having those hopes realized is arguably somewhat greater in the respect that you get more out than you put in. Even as a good fisherman but poor gardener, I will swear that is true, at least insofar as numbers of hours engaged in each activity. It took me all of fifteen minutes to drag out a seed flat, fill it with finely crumbled soil, sow two packages of gazania seed and cover them with soil and sand. I will reap at least a dozen plants by July as a result, with flowers which may last into the snows of mid-December. In between now and then, there will be watering, bedding and weeding, but in the long term, less hours will be spent on the endeavour than it would take to catch a limit of trout on an average outing.

The gazanias won't be the only seeds I put down, although I've mostly gone to purchasing annuals fron nurseries. Not many carry this showy plant. It forms tidy mounds about 12" in diameter and of equal height, and yields saucer-sized flowers in vivid, banded colours. It is tolerant of poor, dry soil, and I can't explain why it would be less popular than other bedding plants. Perhaps it's because it has a long start time; seed must be sown 8-10 weeks before last frost, maybe not cost-effective for growers. Still, it is easy to grow from seed, and I've seldom had a batch fail (certain brands are less reliable than others - one I avoid entirely). Yes, we could all use some Sunshine in our lives!

Mis Libros

Day 151: Years ago when I first started studying Spanish, I purchased as many "kid level" natural history volumes as I could find at Powell's Books in Portland Oregon. I was surprised at the depth of many of them, the scientific vocabulary certainly beyond anything American children of equivalent age would be reading in English. When I bogged down in grammar and gave up hope of becoming fluent, I shelved them, seldom taking any one of them out to read. I've picked them up again now, and although I've now surpassed the reading level for many of them, the two encyclopedias continue to entertain me.

While discussing this on Facebook last night, I was grumbling that DuoLingo's constant drill of easy sentences like "The elephant is grey" and "My daughter eats an apple" were getting rather old, considering that I've advanced well beyond that in the course. I posted a paragraph from the "Enciclopedia Mega Naturaleza y Ecología" you see at bottom center. It read, "Más de 50 especies de grandes mamiferos viven en la sabana. Casi todos son herbívoros: antílopes, gacelas, jirafas, elefantes y búfalos, constituyen las presas de los carnívoros, como los felinos, y de los necrófagos, que se alimentan de cadáveres (hienas, buitres)." I managed to read all of that without resorting to the dictionary, although I rather paused a bit over "necrófagos" until my head sorted it out from Latin.

This morning, I had a reply from Kevin which absolutely cracked me up. FB followers will already have read the exchange, but I post it here for your amusement: "First of all, I'm a bit peeved at Facebook for giving me the 'Automatically Translated' version first, with a tiny, gray 'original version' link at the bottom, instead of showing it to me the way the original author wrote it. So I read your note first in English, and did a double-take when you said (or seemed to say) '...the prey of the carnivores, like cats, and ghouls, which feed on corpses...' Ghouls? On the savanna? And then you said 'I rather paused a bit over 'Ghouls' until my head sorted it out from Latin.' Ghouls? Latin? THEN I saw the 'original version' link, read it in Spanish, and saw the word in question: 'necrófagos,' which, like you, I readily disassembled into 'corpse-eaters.' Yes, almost every machine-translator I checked reduces this to 'ghouls,' except Oxford's Spanish dictionary, bless them, which offers up the scientific term that matches the context: necrophagous. Yes, 99.9% of the time in general parlance 'necrófagos' will mean ghouls, in the context of Halloween or Hollywood. Unless you're a scientist, like us, in which case those auto-translators (ahem, Facebook) will inspire una ceja arqueada."

God Bless America

Day 150: A visual metaphor. Over the last thirty years, I have watched this building deteriorate from a functional garage into its present state. The graffiti has gone through cycles, largely of a John Birch Society nature, and now all that remains of the original is the peeling stencil of "God Bless America." The most recent addition (barely visible at the lower right of the right window) says "shopping," the word's significance known only to its writer, although it would seem to underscore our present plight. How long will the props hold before this edifice collapses entirely? One good gust of wind from the right direction would do the job.

Currantly Showing

Day 149: "Currantly" showing in my garden, the first inklings of green on the wild currants. Later, they will bear drupes of hot pink flowers which the hummingbirds adore. As my readers may remember, I have planted a large portion of my garden with pollinator/hummingbird attractors. Most of the plants have been purchased, but a few like this are so common in the area that I've just relocated a few from the wild. In this case, the currants were brutally uprooted, as in "I pulled them up by the roots and stuck them in my backpack for the rest of the day." A little extra coddling was required to ensure their survival once I got them home. I let them stand in a bucket of water and let them rehydrate before planting them the following morning. Both sites I had chosen for their permanent homes were rather dry last summer, so I watered them frequently...and here is my reward! Stay tuned! You won't want to miss the main attraction!

Gravel Day

Day 148: It's been about twenty years since my then-neighbour and I spread gravel on our shared driveway. He moved away some time ago, and a succession of less-than-desirable tenants has been hard on it. There's an art to driving on a dirt road so you don't make a mess of it. It's not a difficult science. You simply need to drive slowly and take a little extra care when the surface is soft. Still, twenty years is a long time, and even the portion of the L which services my carport was potholed and puddled. To remedy the situation, I ordered a load of rock, 14 tons. With fences and power lines making it hard for the driver to maneuver his truck and part of the load getting stuck in the tailgate, unwilling to spread evenly, the last third was left in a pile to await my shovel.

Have you ever moved gravel? It's not a sport for sissies. Let's do the math. Two-thirds of 14 tons is 9.38 tons, give or take a few pounds. That's how much the truck was able to spread, but I still had to rake it out. The remaining 4.62 tons were what I shovelled and spread manually. Five hours later, I had achieved my goal and the entire task was done. You can bet your bottom buck I'm going to sleep like a rock...no, please! Don't mention rocks!...tonight.

What Colour Is A Steller's Jay?

Day 147: Today's interrogative is "What?" as in "What colour is a Steller's Jay?" Hint: the correct answer is NOT "blue."

We generally accept that colour is due to pigments, but many critters have ways of fooling us. The birds we perceive as blue (Bluebird, Blue Jay, Steller's Jay, Indigo Bunting and others) have no blue pigment in their feathers. They are, as birders often call confusing sparrows, LBJs..."little brown jobs," actually either brown or black. The illusion of colour is brought to us by the physics governing prisms and the reflection/refraction of light. It is the cellular structure of keratin in feathers which causes them to appear blue, but in fact, there are no 'natural blues' in the bird world, not a single one. That's the scientific truth.

How Dare You!

Day 146: Today's interrogative is "How?" as in "How dare you put that camera in my face? You said you were going to take my picture. Are you going to give it back?" I'm convinced that cats regard cameras as soul-stealers. They will NOT look one in the eye if they have any say in the matter, and the simple act of lifting a camera up off a table will cause all heads to turn outward, denying the black box any opportunity of incursion. While not exactly Grumpy-Cat, there will be no smiles forthcoming despite the fact that both Tip and Skunk generally wear cheerful, even amused looks when the camera is hidden away. To add insult to injury, I was compelled to use flash for these portraits, something I normally eschew. None of us was happy with this session!

When Is Spring Coming?

Day 145: Today's interrogative is "When?" as in "When is spring coming?" Of course it could also have been "What?" for "What in the hell is she doing?" or even "How?" for "How did she ever get brave enough to do that?" but I'll just go with "When?" because I keep asking myself "When is it going to warm up?"

The subject of planking came up in a discussion a few days ago. I've only planked once before, and that was in front of the old WDFW building in Morton, and the selfie I took on that occasion so impressed the friend who worked in the office there that he mentioned it to his grandmother, whereupon she planked in a somewhat less public location (a table) so he could get a shot. Technically, planking is supposed to occur in public places; my yard was public enough, with a stream of snow-bunnies and snowplows heading up the road, casting curious glances and possibly making furtive phone calls to the local funny farm to alert them to a potential pickup. The truth of the matter is that it took me four hours to work up my courage to do this, largely because the temperature has risen just enough that the snow has turned to rain and what's in the yard is extremely mushy and wet.

There's a lesson in this, and that is that you can endure almost anything if you only have to do it once. You would only have to do it once if you had thought to take more careful measurements and didn't get your head out of the frame on the first go.

Where'd He Come From?

Day 144: Following the interrogative theme, today's feature is "Where," as in "Where the hell did HE come from?" Please forgive the crummy photos. When you're documenting a Life List sighting, it's important to capture the field markings at any cost. As it was, this White-Throated Sparrow would not come out of the deep shadows in the interior of the contorted filbert long enough for me to get a good shot. Consequently, I've settled for some loss of focus and have done quite a bit of processing to bring him out of hiding. I'm sure Zonotrichia albicollis must have been at my feeders before this, but only today did I notice that...what the heck? Yellow eye stripe? Light-tipped secondaries? Dark beakie? Smudgy tie-tack? Wait...white on the throat? That's not one of my regulars! And thus the photographic chase began, bird in the gloom, me at the open window, snow falling, the house rapidly getting colder. But there he is, and now I know to watch for him in the hopes of obtaining a decent "field guide" image.

Why It Goes

Day 143: I hadn't really thought to make a series of this, but since yesterday was "Who," today I bring you "Why," as in "Why do the vanes in a radiometer spin when it is exposed to light?"

The widespread notion that the rotor is impelled as photons strike the white sides and are absorbed by the black is not scientifically accurate. Were it so, the spin would always be in one direction: away from the black faces. Stick a radiometer in a sunny window until the rotor is spinning rapidly and then move it to a cooler bright location; you will soon prove that this is not the case, although some pressure is definitely supplied by radiation. In actuality, the amount of vacuum within the radiometer is critical, and it is the transfer of heat in this partial vacuum which supplies the action. As the vanes heat, the radiometer spins in one direction, and as it cools, the spin reverses. Try it! These cool science toys are readily available on the internet and at the very least, will make your guests ask why you have a non-lighting lightbulb in your window.

Who's Your Doctor?

Day 142: Who's your Doctor? I am nearing the end of all Doctor Who DVDs (current and historic) with the exception of a handful featuring Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy, only available through Amazon. I think I am qualified to say that "my" Doctors are David Tennant, Tom Baker (although it pains me to admit it), Peter Capaldi, Jon Pertwee and William Hartnell, in that order. Oh, and let's don't leave out the War Doctor, John Hurt, who passed away earlier this year. I was not particularly taken with Patrick Troughton's interpretation, nor am I impressed with Colin Baker so far. The remaining Doctors fall somewhere in between, spins which I like in some ways but not in others. Yes, David Tennant would be "my" Doctor, although it can't be denied that Tom Baker defined the role, but Baker's off-screen personality is off-putting, if what can be ascertained from commentaries and interviews is representative.

Of the companions, it is Donna Noble who rises to the top of the list. Her story's bittersweet ending was exceptional in its conception. Otherwise, I prefer the Doctor to remain aloof, and therefore Rose Tyler's involvement with him seemed like a toss-off to capture female viewers. Villains? Why, the Daleks, of course, and the Master, who has undergone almost as many regenerations as the Doctor himself. The introduction of Missy was brilliant, and is played to mad perfection by Michelle Gomez.

Unfortunately, most of the earliest episodes of Doctor Who would be accessible only if we could catch a ride in the TARDIS. They were made in the days before tape, and even those which were recorded later were thrown out by BBC, bag and baggage, rather than being archived. No one knew that Doctor Who would become a world-wide phenomenon, and arguably one of the best science-fiction series ever made.

Dainty Drops

Day 141: I've shared this old and clever meteorological aphorism several times previously, but on a blustery, wet day like today, it bears repeating:

Whether the weather be cold
Or whether the weather be hot,
We'll weather the weather
Whatever the weather
Whether we like it or not.

The Snowdrops seem to epitomize the verse, their clear white heads bowed but cheerful, hunkered down to endure whatever Mother Nature dishes out. It's advice we can interpret to fit any situation in our lives. You might think Ma gave us Spring for just that reason: a reminder that all winters come to an end, that all things go in cycles. Oh, to be a Snowdrop and have the wisdom of the plants!

It's Our Birthday!

Day 140: Mount Rainier National Park was established on March 2, 1899, and today marks MORA's 118th "birthday." It might surprise you to learn that I have been associated with the Park in some capacity or another for well over half that span of years, starting with visits as a babe in the arms of my parents, followed by hiking with an uncle who served as a ranger in the 50s, and later by hiking, climbing and working in the Mountain's dominion as an adult. We have grown old together, the Park and I, although to the Mountain we are but glints on the river of Time. It is a relationship which I hope endures for many years to come. Happy Birthday, MORA!

Building A Better Mousetrap

Day 139: My hands go to sleep quickly when I'm crocheting because my fingers have become slick with age and I grip the hook quite tightly. Invariably, the pressure leaves a substantial dent in the pad of my thumb, and as I work across a long row (the width of an afghan, for example), I have to pause repeatedly to flex my hands to restore circulation. A little slow on the upbeat, I finally realized I had a solution within my grasp (ha-ha): pad the damn hook! A little foam, a little micropore tape, and I'm now crocheting with much greater comfort. Yes, I know they make "ergonomic" rubber-handled hooks and I'll probably pick up a set at some point, but for now, necessity (the mother of invention) prevails.