A Wet and Wonderful? Day

We had wild weather for our Upper Nestucca Christmas Bird Count this year. We usually have wild weather but this year's seemed exceptionally wild. It didn't start out too badly with some light rain or just-gray skies. But it quickly deteriorated to thunder and lightning followed by hail with the occasional rain and/or wind storm thrown in. The ground was frequently covered with white hailstones which melted in the rain only to return with the next round of thunder/lightning/hail.

Not many birds were out in that weather. But some didn't seem to mind, like this Varied Thrush that was busily finding something to eat along the road.
















Most of my long hike, early in the day, into the area where I had found a Wrentit on our scouting trip was in pretty decent weather, that is, not too much hail. But the Wrentit refused to speak to me, much less appear. A couple vocal Gray Jays were my consolation prize, along with the usual Pacific Wrens, and a flock of Chestnut-backed Chickadees and Golden-crowned Kinglets.

By the time I headed back to where Johnny waited with the pickup (his sciatica started acting up again a few days ago so he was not doing much walking), my knees were starting to give out. I stupidly forgot to wear my knee supports. Between the weather and my knees, I spent most of the rest of the day being chauffered from point to point slowly in the pickup, stopping and hiking on offroads that looked promising. Mostly, I just heard Pacific Wrens giving their one and two note alarm calls as I hobbled past with my bamboo walking sticks click clicking.

One of the last roads I hiked had amazing sculptures along it. With time, all the snags in this northwest rain forest grow bonnets of ferns or salal on their tops. I took photos, between hailstorms, of two of them. You can't tell it from the dark photo, but this short snag with the bouffant salal hairdo is coated with moss and riddled with woodpecker holes. Too bad the woodpeckers were not around to be counted.



Here's another favorite that made me laugh out loud. (Remember, this was near the end of a long, wet, cold, fairly birdless day punctuated with knee pain. I was hungry for some comic relief.)



I was also just plain hungry. And I knew that a sumptious meal awaited all of us crazy birders-in-the-hail at the wrap-up, where we share our day's adventures and misadventures, good birds and missed birds. Linda Leavitt, who lives within our count circle (a 15-mile diameter circle plunked in the middle of the coastal mountains), provides the meal in her warm, inviting house.

Johnny and I arrived at Linda and David's house after dark, when some of the participants had already partaken and gone home, others were eating, but a few were yet to drag in. What a meal Linda provided! Before filling my plate, I took photos of the two laden buffet tables, because, at that hungry and tired moment, Linda's food appeared to be the highlight of the day. And it did taste wonderful.











Once fed, warm, and rested, with good company to share the day's stories with, the 26th Upper Nestucca Christmas Bird Count seemed more like an adventure and less like an ordeal.

It is, after all, a rare and wonderful thing to spend a whole day in a vast forest with no noise except the wind in the trees and the occasional bird sound. And thunder. Well, okay, so the hail on the roof of the pickup was sometimes pretty loud. And my rain pants made swishing sounds as I clicked along with my bamboo hiking sticks. But those are comforting sounds... the rain pants were getting wet, not me, and better the pickup should get hit with hail than my face.

For once I did not take photos of the myriads of cascading streams... I didn't want to get my camera wet and the sky was usually precipitating. However at one break in the wet stuff, I took a photo of a vista... miles and miles of trees... probably full of birds too smart to come out from cover to be counted.



Johnny and I found ten species. But altogether over fifty species were found in this coastal rain forest on a wild and, in retrospect, wonderful day.

Scouting the Upper Nestucca CBC

It's almost that time of year again, when hardy souls head out into the deep woods of the Coast Range to count birds for the Upper Nestucca Christmas Bird Count. Well, in my case, to hike through the woods and enjoy the scenery. Birds are an added bonus if they decide to show up. And some always do.

Our count this year is on December 14. Today Johnny and I scouted some old logging roads in my sector of the count that we have not traversed on count days past. Our map showed that one went all the way through to the 14 road, where most of my territory lies. So I hiked in while Johnny drove around to the far end.

The map lied. I came to a dead end. Johnny saw me from across a deep ravine where he had hiked in from the 14 road. It took me a half hour of scrambling through sword ferns and salal and downed trees to get to the other side of the ravine and up to the 14 with Johnny. I won't do that on count day... I'll walk the 2 miles back the way I came. I must walk because the "road" is suitable only for a 4-wheel drive vehicle, which we don't have, although Johnny drove the pickup on it after I joined him on the 14. He says never again.

It's worth a 4 mile round trip on foot because I found not only the usual high country birds but also a Wrentit. The only other Wrentits I know of in Yamhill County are on or near our farm. I'd love to log a Wrentit on count day! They are quite territorial so with luck, a pair of Wrentits will give their ratchety scold calls and pop up to look at the intruder, as they did this afternoon, when I invade their territory. Besides Wrentits, there were plenty of Pacific Wrens (which were Winter Wrens until a few months ago when their name was changed), Chestnut-backed Chickadees, Golden-crowned Kinglets, Varied Thrushes, and others. Even if it had no birds, my sector would be a lovely place to hike with bubbling streams, woodpecker-bored snags, big trees, and plenty of ferns and salal.






















Some areas still show the devastation from our wild wind and snow storm of two years ago. Alder tops were lopped off in that storm as though cut by a helicopter flying upside down.















Here's hoping we have as nice a day on the 14th for our count as we had today. It would not be quite so much fun in snow or pouring rain.

Deviled Eggs and Drippy Weather

I can't believe I forgot the Deviled Eggs. 44 of them! No, I didn't forget to serve them: I forgot to mention them in my Thanksgiving blog where I bragged about all the food grown on our farm that we served for the big feast. I made 44 deviled eggs from the many dozens of eggs our chickens are producing. Half were eaten before dinner was served and all were devoured soon after. This is good because our chickens are seriously overproducing. These are the chickens that neighbor Irv raised from day-old chicks for me. They produce beautiful eggs of many colors... lots of them.

I have not written a chicken update since the chicks were new, but the weather is too drippy for good photos today. Those will have to wait for a future entry, when the chickens are outdoors instead of keeping dry inside the chicken house. However, I did take a photo, in wind and rain, of a Bald Eagle atop our tall snag today. He is a handsome beast in any weather.


Between showers over the last several days, I have managed to photograph some of the beauty that even rainy days, with the occasional gray break, can provide. That's what we have mostly in Western Oregon during the winter months: gray breaks rather than sun breaks. Occasionally we do have sun breaks. We had one a couple days ago that produced a spectacular full sky rainbow. Naturally, I did not have my camera with me at the time. But here are a few photos taken during recent gray breaks.

A bright male Wilson's Warbler was flycatching in front of the barn during an almost sunny spell. He should have been in Mexico by now, but I was happy to see his cheery self. Wilson's Warblers nest here in the spring but have usually flown south long before October ends, let alone November. This yellow fellow may have been on his way from farther north, just stopping here for a bite to eat before resuming his journey.


Our resident Red-tailed Hawk was preening on the Kestrel nest box snag, showing off his namesake tail, one recent foggy day. A Varied Thrush peeked out of lichen-draped Ash trees in our Ash tree swamp, while rain drops made patterns in the water below. Varied Thrushes migrate downslope when snow arrives in the hills above us, as snow most definitely has.



There is a harvest of beauty (as well as eggs), to be found in any weather on our farm... although I confess to mostly working indoors in the rain, dashing outside to tend animals... and take photos... when it stops for a minute. The eagle photo I took while standing outside the back door, under the eaves: my camera and I are not as weather-proof as an eagle.

Catching Up

Today was supposed to be my catching up day... catching my breath after a busy several days. Friday I drove 6 hours to the Washington kids' place to attend and help with another fabulous Shannon Peters clinic over the weekend. And to play with grandson Ian who has a cool new game for his WII, "Just Dance". Here he is during a clinic lunch break, following the WII dancer's moves.





Ian didn't have much time to spend dancing, though. He manned the concession booth at the clinic both days, selling hot coffee and muffins and a multitude of other things. Between customers, he played games on his portable computer. Ian is a high tech kid. But he knows how to make change in his head... no calculator needed.



The whole trip, not just the dancing, was fun but exhausting. I could get tired just watching Shannon working with horses and riders from the ground. At times with long lines, at times with longe whip and/or bamboo pole, she helps create the "inner fire" and instant response so necessary for dressage. She gives the horses (and the riders) positive reinforcement when they make the right responses and both horses and riders try hard to please her.












I drove home Sunday afternoon, before the clinic was over, so I could go to my Monday jump lesson. This was at a different barn than usual but with the same wonderful instructor. One of these times I'll have to coax Johnny into coming with me and taking photos. Mr. Smith and I had great fun learning to bounce. No, not the kind of bouncing on horseback I do without instruction. This kind of bouncing is jumping several jumps in a row with no strides in between. We did four jumps in a line, bouncing in and out. Very fun but, again, exhausting.

Today was supposed to be a restful day after all this excitement. But my animals, as usual, thought otherwise. Animals seem to be tuned into my moods and as soon as I'm tired and need rest, they do something to make sure I don't get it. This morning I discovered that Jessie Anne had, sometime before I arrived on the scene, managed to get herself on the wrong side of the electric fence, tearing it down in the process. I spent the first part of my restful day repairing fence.

Then I fed the horses their breakfasts. As I was doing so, I noticed Shirley Puppy headed through the bushes for the woven wire fence separating us from our neighbor. Mister McCoy (more commonly known as The Big White Dog) was right behind her. Those delinquents oozed through a widened space in the woven wire and disappeared eastward, toward the road. I screamed at them. McCoy reappeared, joyfully wagging his tail, and squeezed back through the fence. Shirley followed reluctantly. Once the dogs were on the proper side of the fence, I praised them for coming home but told them they must not go outside our boundaries.

Knowing I would be ignored, I shoved a spare white electric fence post into the ground, fastening the wires to it in hopes of blocking their escape route. Of course, the dogs are perfectly capable of creating other widened places so I wove branches through wires in other likely escape spots. I do not want McCoy roaming the neighborhood.

Finally, I headed for the goat barn to do morning chores, only to realize that I first needed to unload the feed I'd picked up at the feed store on my way home from my jump lesson yesterday. Eventually, the 10 sacks of goat feed were unloaded, goats milked and fed, barn cleaned. Johnny, who spent the day working on the new goat barn, helped unload the 10 sacks of horse feed. By now my catching up on rest day was half over with nary a sign of resting.

But in the afternoon bills were paid, appointments made, and too many hours spent on this computer trying to find lost information needed to make those appointments and pay those bills. I guess that's a kind of resting, just not very relaxing. So I elected to relax by catching up in this blog... instead of doing something useful, like unpacking the car... and my suitcase... from the weekend.

And now, before I get on with the evening's work and apropos of nothing, here are some recent images...

Elk and a Cedar Waxwing at Finley National Wildlife Refuge;













the big white dog where he's supposed to be, with goats in the goat barn;










and Johnny on top of the new goat barn, working late one evening.

Birding at Finley National Wildlife Refuge

Finley is one of the three Willamette Valley refuges strung in a line from Eugene to Salem that were created as safe wintering grounds for the Dusky Canada Goose, a bird that winters nowhere else. Other birds have benefited from the protection, making these refuges a birder's paradise. Baskett Slough, just west of Salem, is close to where I live and the only one of the three I regularly bird... on my way to and from the feed store in Dallas. That is, it was the only one... until friend Toni was kind enough to move to Albany, not far from Finley, and give me an excuse to pick her up and go birding and hiking at the Corvallis area refuge.

Our first jaunt this fall was in October. The second was yesterday. Both times we hit glorious autumn days with sun and dramatic clouds, colorful leaves and fields greened by rains. This photo of the refuge was taken by Toni yesterday.


On both trips we were able to tour charming country roads we had not intended to tour... because neither of us has any sense of direction and kept getting lost. It's fun to have a birding partner who considers every wrong turn a chance for new adventures.




In October, we saw White-fronted Geese (like the one above), along with Duskies and other forms of Canada and Cackling Geese (presumably, although I can only identify Duskies because they are, well, dusky). On both trips, we walked this wonderful Homer Campbell boardwalk through the lichen-dripping forest to Cabell Marsh.





On yesterday's trip we found all our target birds: Tundra Swan, Western Meadowlark, and Red-shouldered Hawk. (We targeted these because someone else had reported seeing them there recently.) We also saw many other birds, especially geese. Geese in the water, on land, in the air... noisy geese everywhere. I did not manage to get good photos of our target birds, but you can see a couple white swans way in the background on Cabell Marsh, behind hordes of ducks and geese.





Another white bird was closer, as we first entered the refuge. Great Egrets are not shy.




At the refuge headquarters, many Acorn Woodpeckers and Western Bluebirds were flitting about. This bluebird seemed to be mocking my photo taking attempts.



An American Kestrel was more cooperative, perching in plain sight on one of the refuge interpretive signs. But I had to lean way out of the window to take his portrait without flushing him. Toni captured my contortions.












Although the sun was setting, we hated to leave this bird paradise. As Western Meadowlarks sang and a Red-shouldered Hawk sat in the dimming light... too far for a photo but close enough to be identified through the scope... we headed home in a glowing sunset.
















Toni and I are both looking forward to our next trip to Finley... likely by yet another unexpected route on some unforeseen, but no doubt charming, country road.