49ers

By 49ers I'm not talking about the San Francisco football team, nor the gold miners who rushed to California in 1849 after gold was discovered at Sutter's Mill the year before. I'm talking about Johnny and me. As of February 13, 2016, we have been married 49 years, incredible as that seems considering I started backwards at age 50 making me 30 now. It is remarkable to be married 19 years before one is born. Talk about an arranged marriage...


But, actually,  our marriage was not arranged at all... in fact, it was rather suddenly planned. Johnny's USFS boss at the time told him at his Friday, Feb. 10, performance review that everything was great except... it was not acceptable to be living with a woman without being married to her. Remember this was 49 years ago... So we opted to get married the following Monday, when a courthouse would be open...  we assumed.

We did not, however, realize that Monday, Feb. 13, was a holiday, being "President's Day", or, back then, before all the presidents' birthdays got lumped together, the Monday that Lincoln's birthday (Feb. 12) was celebrated. We drove off with our three witnesses, Ma and Pa Perkins and their daughter Marie, friends from Cokeville, Wyoming, where Johnny worked, to the nearest courthouse: in Kemmerer, Wyoming. It was closed.

So we drove on to Logan, Utah. That courthouse was closed, too.

This was in the days before cell phones or the internet so we found a pay phone and called the next closest state: Idaho. Idaho, I guess, did not recognize that day as a holiday because the courthouse in Paris, Idaho, was open. We drove there and were "married in Paris", as we tell everyone. Ma and Pa Perkins had been married in the Mormon temple in Montpelier, Idaho, and asked us to have our wedding photo taken on the steps of that church, so we drove to Montpelier, which was on our way back to Cokeville, and did. No, we were not and are not Mormon but it made them happy.  Since they had spent all day driving through three states with us trying to find an open courthouse, it was the least we could do.

Forty-nine years later, we still tend to do things on the spur of the moment. On our 49th anniversary, we went waterfall hunting. Why not?

Actually, we had already hiked a couple waterfalls the day before and taken photos. I have started a new blog, called Waterfalls http://ourwaterfallproject.blogspot.com/
where I plan to document our waterfall hikes with photos and measurements. We started out on Feb. 12 with the ones closest to us that we visit often: Yoncalla Falls and its smaller relative on the west fork of Yoncalla Creek.

Below is the West Fork Falls, both upper and lower tiers, which are separated by a 5' wide pool... and a lot of logs.

Upper tier West Fork Yoncalla Falls

I then bushwhacked to the top of the much taller Yoncalla Falls and dropped the end of a tape measure down to measure the height. Johnny was stationed on the bank opposite and could see when the end of the tape hit the creek at the bottom of the falls. I could also tell when it did because the water suddenly took it strongly downstream. I reeled it back in and let the tape out to just where the water began to take it away. Then I crossed the creek and bushwhacked my way down to the bottom so I could get a photo.

Johnny took a couple photos of me bushwhacking and finally reaching the foot of Yoncalla Falls, which is not visible in its entirety from anywhere else. 

zoomed up... I'm way down at the bottom of the canyon on a log over the creek

 Here is my prize after doing all that bushwhacking... the only place you can see this from is the bottom of the steep and brushy canyon...

After I clambered back up to the road, we drove Agency Creek surveying Dippers. Many cooperated. This one kept diving into the water and swimming downstream, then popping up again.

Our waterfall adventure was so much fun we decided to spend the next day, our anniversary day, hiking the Niagara Falls trail and then looking for "unconfirmed" falls within striking distance.

Our trip started out with a good omen, as Johnny spotted a Red-shouldered Hawk right at the outskirts of Willamina as we drove through.

See the bird just below and right of the sign?

zoomed up, it becomes a beautiful adult Red-shouldered Hawk

It took an hour to reach the Niagara Trail trailhead. The well-maintained trail is quite civilized compared to the bushwhacking of the day before.

The trail winds, often steeply downhill, to two waterfalls, actually... Niagara Falls, which is not the more spectacular of the two but which you can get very close to... under if you don't mind getting wet... and the much higher-looking (although officially only 2 feet higher) and more impressive Pheasant Creek Falls. The first glimpse along the trail of Pheasant Creek Falls is tantalizing.

A few bends farther on, the trail leads to the base of Niagara Falls, (which is not on Niagara Creek but rather named for being close to Niagara Point, whatever that is). I tried to take our photos in front of the falls so we could say we had our anniversary photo taken at Niagara Falls (much like we were married in Paris). But my camera is not a cell phone and all I got was Johnny plus a part of the falls and a few wild hairs of mine.

Here is what Niagara Falls, Oregon variety, actually looks like.

 Walking onward, Pheasant Creek Falls appears in all its 124 foot glory.

At the point where I took the above photo is a picnic table on which Johnny and I once slept while surveying for Black Swifts that nest behind waterfalls... but not this one, apparently, as we found none.

At every bend of the trail coming back up, more memories returned... of hiking the trail with our children and grandchildren and various friends. As I lagged behind, I took a photo of Johnny dwarfed by the tall trees. 

 And he took one of me... trailing behind.

That's as close as we could come to anniversary photos of both of us.

From there we drove onward to the Nestucca River Rd. and tried to find the elusive Nenamusa Falls. We hiked along the river at the alleged spot finding nothing but rapids. Then we hiked along the river at other spots finding Dippers but no falls. So we drove on to Alder Glen Campground where we knew there was a falls.

Alder Glen Falls is across the Nestucca River from the campground.

It is hard to tell where the falls begins

Another falls we would like to find another time is on Bible Creek. We drove that road back to Willamina and keyed out the spot where we think it might be... at the bottom of a much deeper canyon than our Yoncalla Falls is in. It will be a strenuous hike... perhaps for our 50th anniversary next year. Or whenever the weather allows... and the mood strikes us.

Changing Seasons

For several days near the end of January it was warm and balmy. The daffodils were budded out, the yellow shrub by the back door in full bloom. It felt like spring.

On Saturday afternoon, Jan. 30, we took a drive up into the hills above us. It was such a nice day and we were tired of working... the pleasant weather had allowed us to do a lot of outdoor clean up work. We decided to drive to South Lake, about 16 miles from our farm. We were surprised to see snow along the side of the road as we started upwards. When we reached South Lake, it was snowing. So much for spring.

The snow had just started, but there was enough for Johnny to make a tiny snow person.

We drove on the few miles to North Lake. More snow. And sunshine on snowy trees.

Johnny made another snow person, slightly bigger.

We started to drive up to Mt. Hebo but we did not have snow tires and there was more and more snow. So we turned around and headed back down the 14 road to the 2283, where we had found a massive landslide and tree blockage on our Upper Nestucca Christmas Bird Count. We hiked in the .3 miles to see if the road was still blocked. It was.

We did the rest of our touring inside the warm van. I wanted to see the area of the East Creek fire so we drove up that way. We found lots of blackened trunks and dead trees.

As we drove home, we could see the hills to the south of our farm that had been bare and balmy when we left... now covered with snow. In a few short hours, an early spring had turned back into winter.

Rain Breaks

Western Oregon is having a lot of rain. At least, that's how it looks from the inside looking out. But it usually is not raining hard, so I go out. If I stay inside I get cabin fever. And sometimes there is a several hour break in the showers. Johnny doesn't pay attention to rain either. If it's too heavy, he works in his shop.

On January 7, it looked dry enough to make our Grand Ronde raptor run, so we did, and found three Red-shouldered Hawks. Here is one of them, just a few miles from home...

We found this Bald Eagle also just a few miles from home.

 In the Willamina area, we found a team of draft horses out for a stroll...

This Red-shouldered Hawk was in the Willamina area where we usually find one or a pair.

 This pair of Bald Eagles was hanging out on one of their favorite perches over the Willamina fishing pond, where we ate our lunches.  The rain held off until we returned home, when it let loose once again.

  On Sunday, January 10, it was again fairly dry (by Western Oregon winter standards). So in the morning, while Johnny was at church, I hiked down to our creek and found this snag that a Pileated Woodpecker had tortured. An amazing amount of wood chips were below it.

 This feather was floating in our seasonal pond. I don't know what bird it came from. But most exciting for me when I looked closely at this photo were the little red dots I could see in the water... copepods! I was so afraid our drought last spring and summer had killed them off as I've not been able to see them. But my camera could. Today, the 21st, Johnny and I hiked down to the pond again and found zillions of little black things swimming around plus quite a few tiny red copepods. I'm so glad they're back!

 
 When Johnny came home from church on the 10th, we drove up Agency Creek Rd. to look for Dippers. With high water in the creek, we did not see all the Dippers we usually see. But where there were exposed rocks, there were sometimes Dippers, launching themselves into the icy water to catch underwater prey.

 After surveying for Dippers on Agency Creek, we drove up Yoncalla Creek Rd. and hiked into Yoncalla Falls. So beautiful and so energizing.

 There were lots of smaller falls along both Yoncalla and Agency creeks. I love waterfalls, even little ones like this.

 January 15 was another fairly dry day so we took off for our North Santiam Raptor route. At our lunch stop at Lyons City Park/John Neal Park, Ring-necked Ducks (that have visible ringed bills, not necks) floated in the reflections of trees along the bank.

Snow dusted the hills as we headed west, with no rain until we finished our route back in Salem.

It was wet, though, on the 19th when I drove to Salem to participate in a rally on the Capitol Steps with other birders and lovers of our public lands. We were protesting the armed takeover of Malheur National Wildlife Refuge and declaring our solidarity with the people of Harney County who are being intimidated and threatened by the lawless thugs who have occupied the refuge that belongs to the American people. I decompressed afterwards by eating my lunch at The Narrows at another beloved wildlife refuge, Baskett Slough. All of these public lands are threatened by the militia men in this country who seem to think God intends for them to overthrow the government's laws... forcefully. Wow. An afternoon visiting friend Nancy and her horses and dogs helped me realize there still are some sane and wonderful people in the world, just none in Malheur NWR headquarters right now.

On the 20th, I spent the day with another sane and wonderful person, birder friend Dawn. We ran her Lincoln city raptor route, then drove down to South Beach State Park to look for the Mountain Plover that had been hanging out there with Snowy Plovers. Both were life birds for Dawn and we had no trouble finding them. The drizzle returned as we walked the beach but we found the "cute" plovers easily. Dawn says the way you can tell plovers from other shorebirds is by their cuteness factor. And they really are cute, with their short bills and little round heads. The Mountain Plover was considerably bigger than his even cuter companions, the Snowy Plovers. It was a great day with a fun friend.

Mountain Plover

Sanderling left (long bill, not as "cute") with three Snowy Plovers following

Today, Jan. 21st, Johnny's birthday, is dry and warm. He spent the day working outside on farm projects, as he likes to do. Then we cleared trails in the woods. But what he likes best on his birthday are phone calls from his kids and grandkids and others who love him... simple pleasures in a life lived simply, kindly and well, rain or no rain.

Hair Ice and Other Wintry Wonders

At first, I thought this was a fungus. But when I touched it, it turned out to be ice and shattered.

From the web, I learned it was Hair Ice. "Hair ice is a fairly rare phenomenon that only occurs around 45-55 degrees north latitude. It forms when the temperature is just below freezing with high humidity and in the presence of a particular fungus, Exidiopsis effuse, on rotting wood. As the moisture in the wood freezes, it is forced through the pores in the wood and extruded as tiny hairs. The fungus secretes a substance, lignin, which prevents the ice crystals from locking together to form larger crystals, so each hair remains separate. Hair ice is extremely delicate and ephemeral, usually disappearing as soon as the sun touches it."

 It seemed to be on every dead branch on the ground. Beautiful and fragile.

 Our cold weather of the last week (below 20 degrees for several days) had created other interesting ice formations. Our seasonal pond was frozen over but as the water level had begun to recede, the ice on the edge began groaning and cracking as I watched and listened. It reminded me of break-up I've heard on larger bodies of water that can sound like thunder.

Agency Creek looked cold and turbulent. Icicles hung over it from a log on the bank.

Along the driveway, even the frozen puddles created art forms. At least, that's what they looked like to me.

And then, it snowed. And rained on top of the snow. Cold, icy rain. Schools were closed and roads slick. Icicles formed on our metal gates.

It was only a dusting of snow, but enough to allow the rain to form an icy crust on top.

Every footstep was captured in ice. Here are California Quail footprints.

The garden netting we had not yet taken down was coated in ice and hung in graceful arcs over the deserted garden.

The winter blooming tree outside the back door was loaded with buds, now preserved in ice.

And then it began to melt and icicles formed on the roof as sheets of ice fell off and formed ridges below.

With the falling snow and ice came hysteria in the horse paddock. My horses do not like snow and ice sheeting off the roof. They refused to come in to eat. Finally this afternoon, I was able to lead them in. We are all tired of this weather, pretty as the ice formations may be.

Johnny was gone for the whole week of cold, snow and freezing rain. I burned up all the wood he had brought into the house before he left... getting up several times a night to stoke the fire. (I kept the door into the jungle room open so my plants would not get too cold... Plants are people, too.) The water lines to the goat and horse stock tanks froze so I carted water all week. Yesterday, they finally thawed.

Hair Ice and other wintry scenes are lovely... But there are downsides...