Strange Happenings

Maybe it's the weather. December is usually cold and wet. This December is not so cold and strangely dry. (Of course, it's not over yet and snow may be coming for Christmas weekend.) One of the odd things around here, perhaps odder than the weather, is, admittedly, me... or odd things I've been doing. Okay, so not all of my faux pas are recent oddities.

Years ago, I foolishly planted invasive English Ivy along Johnny's shop. I know why I did it... that wall is two stories high, ugly yellow metal, and, well, just plain ugly. Thanks to the cuttings I took from the Grand Ronde library ivy (that they try yearly to get rid of), the ugly wall was converted into a lovely ivy-covered wall. But the ivy is not content to stay on the outside of the wall. It has moved through cracks into the inside and is covering Johnny's tools. It has also poked out the roof. And I worry that the berries it is producing will be carried by birds into the forest and choke innocent trees.

So during this oddly rain-free weather I chopped it down. Or tried to. I had hung netting on the wall for the ivy to climb on. That was a stupid thing to do because ivy needs nothing but its own hairy stalks to glue itself to any surface. But the ivy was happy to twine its tendrils through the netting as well. The netting, over the years, buried itself in the dirt under massive ivy roots. It took me two days to cut netting and ivy stalks away from the ground. Pictured is what it looks like now, severed from the ground that it used to cover. There was no bare metal showing on the outside of the shop before my efforts this week. The other photos show what it did and still does look like inside the shop. Having the ivy on the lower part of the wall gone and disconnected from its roots in the ground does not seem to have had any effect whatsoever on the part still hanging inside and out.

Next came the dilemma of what to do with the huge mound of ivy I'd chopped down. I planned to burn it, but the burn pile is in the orchard, near the woods. What if those impossible-to-kill cuttings rooted and crept into our woodland? I decided to make the burn pile in the middle of the goat field where there are no trees anywhere near. So I did. The goats, of course, immediately dashed out to eat the ivy leaves. Then I remembered reading that ivy was poisonous to goats. I raced to the computer to research. Yes! said the first site I found, ivy is poisonous to goats! I raced back outside and tried to cover the ivy with boards and berry vines but that did nothing to deter the goats. Panic-stricken, I raced to the house again and googled for remedies for ivy poisoning, sure I had just killed all my goats. This time I found a site that said "Don't believe everything you read on the internet. You'll find sites that say ivy is poisonous to goats. I've been feeding ivy trimmings to my goats for years. They love them."

So far, my goats are fine.

Two days later came the Upper Nestucca Christmas Bird Count we do each year. This year, thanks to the odd dry weather, we had no snow or rain to struggle through in our mountain sector. That was good. But there were far fewer birds than usual. Why, I have no idea. In spite of the fact that most of the other teams also found few birds in their sectors, the count came up with the highest number of total species it ever had and higher numbers on quite a few of the species than ever before. Of course, some of those "higher numbers" were not very high: 10 (Downy Woodpecker) and 4 (Western Screech Owl). And our total species count (60) was less than half many other counts: our Upper Nestucca count circle is not in prime bird habitat. But it's pretty. Pictured is one of our non-rainy, non-snowy, pretty spots that should have had birds that day but did not.

Oddly enough, Johnny and I discovered on our earlier scouting trip in the count circle that we had cell phone coverage in our sector, which we've never had before. So we planned to bring our cell phones on count day in case we needed to call for help up there in the wilderness. But I forgot mine. That is, I thought I forgot it. I searched my pockets and backpack before Johnny dropped me off at the edge of the circle. He then drove home to do morning chores. I asked him to bring my phone back when he came later to join me.

Hours later, as I sat in a forest clearing eating a snack, my cell phone rang. From somewhere. It had to be in my clothing but darned if I could find it. I frantically dug through coat pockets as the phone rang again after getting no answer the first time. I knew Johnny was calling the number to try to find my phone at home, where I'd said I left it. I began peeling my many layers, each with pockets, trying to find the elusive phone. Didn't. Unpacked my backpack... no phone. So I started over again, feeling each article of clothing for a hidden lump. At last I felt such a lump in the very bottom of my coat. A hole in a pocket had allowed the cell phone to fall through into the lining. I called Johnny and told him the phone was with me.

But the strangest happening of all this week happened at home. I'm not sure when. My exotic Buckeye hen, one of the chicks I bought a year and a half ago, suddenly turned into a rooster. Well, I don't know how suddenly but she has looked like a hen for over a year. A few days ago I thought I heard two roosters, instead of one, crowing in the morning. Yesterday, I saw two roosters and fourteen hens instead of the usual one rooster and fifteen hens. One rooster had a pea comb but was otherwise nearly identical to our original rooster... and it was chasing and mounting and breeding the hens. My exotic Buckeye hen was not there. Well, I think she was there but a he instead of a she. The Buckeye is the only bird I have with a pea comb other than the Americaunas which look totally different. I've heard of some roosters being slow to mature, but a year and a half?? Possibly, Johnny and I are just really unobservant but... Here she is in her former life as a hen. And now, apparently, as a rooster.













I know they don't look alike but I swear it has to be the same bird... unless someone has done a switcheroo on me. Here are the two roosters together, and their heads showing the vastly different comb styles.




Could it be the weather??

The Week in Photos

While the valley suffered in cold, white fog this week, we basked in the sunshine up here in the Coast Range. Until today. Now it's our turn for cold, white fog. But I didn't stay home much this week to enjoy our weather. After a Sunday morning ride on Mr. Smith in the arena over a jump I'd set up, I joined Johnny for a drive up Agency Creek to see if eagles were gleaning spawned-out salmon that the Grand Ronde tribe throws in to replenish nutrients. We've been seeing eagles flying over our place from that direction. But none were in sight that day. Of course, we stopped to take pictures of the faithful American Dippers on the stream. They seem to stay in their territories year round on Agency Creek.Then we drove up the Yoncalla road and hiked the new trail that eventually will go from Grand Ronde to the coast, we've been told. It was no farther along than the last time we hiked. But pleasant as far as it goes. On the other side of the road it goes to Yoncalla Falls through old growth trees... and so did we.Sunday night the word went out on the local birding network that a Snowy Owl was hanging around a sheep field in Albany. Naturally, on Monday I dragged my Albany friend Toni out of her warm house and into the cold and fog to see the owl. It was too far away for my little camera but one fellow had an enormous lens and took spectacular photos. They can be seen here: http://kiwifoto.com/f/snowy_owl_oregon_dec2011 . All I got was a picture of some of the hoards of birders who descended on the place to see the lovely northern visitor, including the pro from California who took the great photos.

Tuesday was my raptor route day. A few miles from our farm, we entered fog. So we saw few raptors. However, we were excited to find that the pair of Red-shouldered Hawks discovered last winter on a private property where we survey were still there! These beautiful birds are rarely seen in Yamhill County. My camera insisted on focusing on the twigs in front of the bird, so this is the best I got.
Wednesday my tree order came from Burnt Ridge Nursery and I spent the day planting trees... mostly various kinds of nuts. Some family members think I'm the nut for planting trees that won't produce until I may no longer be on this earth. Hmmph. We'll see. Johnny spent the day digging post holes with the tractor for the new fence to keep the horses out of the swamp more successfully than my white tape electric fence has done. Hopefully, my new trees will survive better than my makeshift fence has.

Thursday we took off for the coast to check on Black Oystercatchers at Road's End. We found none but we did find amazingly windless, sunny weather on top of The Thumb with skies so clear it seemed we could see forever.
And we found about twenty Surfbirds on the North Nest Rock where hopefully there will be a nesting pair of Black Oystercatchers next spring. (Trust me, through my scope the light dots on the right side of the rock turned into Surfbirds.)

I love everything about The Thumb... the view of Cascade Head, the trees on top sculpted by wind, the huge twisty sitka spruces on the path going up, and of course, the birds to be seen from that vantage point high above the surf.



Our perfect day did not end after the hike down The Thumb. We took Safeway-bought picnic lunches to an overlook on Hyw 101, then drove to meet our Tillamook friends at Short Beach, where I hoped to see Black Oystercatchers gathered. On the way we saw a fellow with a radio antenna, searching for his wayward falcon. He did not find her while we were there, but he did find a gull she probably ate. He and his hybrid Gyrfalcon/Peregrine are hired by the Tillamook landfill to haze the thousands of gulls that had gathered and become a health hazard. This time, his falcon must have decided to taste one of the birds she has been chasing. Although the falconer blew his whistle and swung his lure to entice her from wherever she was resting, she was probably too full of gull meat to care. The gull remains can be seen in the bottom right corner of this photo.


At Short Beach, I did find Black Oystercatchers... six of them in all. (They're the dots on top of the rock below.)


And a tide so low I could walk on the ocean side of the big rock, which I have never been able to do before.


I love everything about Short Beach: the view looking south toward the rocks off Oceanside, the view looking north toward Cape Meares and its lighthouse, the trees sculpted by wind on top of the big rock, and, of course, the birds one can see, like the Bald Eagle keeping watch from high over the beach. Hmm, this sounds familiar... I guess I just love the Oregon coast and its wildness.










Dinner with birder friends Barbara and John in Tillamook completed a wonderful day. Friday it was back to work... sort of. I drove to Dallas for feed and took a side trip to Poplar Lane where I'd heard shorebirds were gathered in a flooded field. I found many Snipe, Killdeer, Dowitchers, and other assorted peeps (the birders' generic term for small sandpipers), along with a fence and brush row full of Savannah sparrows. But I was in the fog zone and photos were not wonderful.






Today we scouted, in the fog, for the Upper Nestucca Christmas Bird Count that will take place next Thursday. All roads were open, no snow, no trees to cut off roads... and no birds to speak of. We stopped at friends' on the way home and met their adorable new puppy, a Shih Tsu named Stubby.

It was a birdy week with good friends and good weather... and spectacular scenery... all shoved between morning and evening chores on these short, often foggy days of winter.

Swamp Memories

This morning, while hiking through the swamp to replace the trail camera card, I couldn't help stopping to take photos. It's a long way to hike every morning, twice, first to collect the card and then to put it back in after downloading the night's videos. Yet I never resent the trek. I love having an excuse to go there.

Why, I began to wonder, do I love swamps? Ours has few interesting birds or plants... the horses have kept the underbrush eaten out. Hopefully, now that the horses are fenced away, it will become more than just water, mud and ash trees. The edge of the swamp, of course, does have interesting wildlife visiting at night, thanks to the many apple and pear trees that line its banks. That's why we put the trail camera there.

As I pondered my connection to the swamp, I remembered a swamp from my childhood. In my middle school years we lived on Long Island in New York. Across the road from our house was, within a short distance, a wonderful swamp and lake. Swans nested in that swamp every year. I loved pushing my way through the rushes higher than my head to get to a viewpoint where I could watch the nest. I didn't get very close because the swans were protective and threatened anyone or anything that came near. I spent many happy hours in that swamp.

Years later, after we had moved to Illinois and I had graduated from high school, I returned to Long Island to visit friends. And to hike to the swamp. It was gone. Drained and full of houses. I was devastated. I vowed then to never go back to any place I had loved.

Now I have my own swamp. Not nearly so big and with no lake and no swans. But I love it still. I stand there in the stillness and imagine I'm in a southern bayou with the possibility of Ivory-billed Woodpeckers around me. (Never mind that the trees are Oregon Ash, not Louisiana Bald Cypress, or that my swamp dries up in the summer and freezes over in the winter.)



It is here, in the mysterious swamp margin, that the trail camera lets us see what animals roam at night. Only one apple tree is still holding on to its fruit and it is under that tree that the trail camera is aimed. If you click on the photo below right to enlarge it and look carefully in the bottom right, you will see the trail camera with its targeted apple tree on the left. There are lots of apples, but they are high above and fall only in wind storms or when the raccoons climb up and knock some down.












One video caught a raccoon climbing the tree. Now that computer guru friend Mike has uploaded a program for me that captures stills off the videos, I can, from time to time, put photos on here of our night-time visitors. Like the raccoon climbing the apple tree... And two young deer eating apples the raccoons probably knocked down.




And the bobcat with the wild eyes...

And the 5-point buck....













And, of course, the bears... Little Bear, Big Bear, and 3 Foot....





I want the swamp and its denizens to always be here, long after we are gone. Somehow, I must find some organization or university or ?? who will preserve it for all time. May our ash swamp and our farm beneath Spirit Mountain never be drained and filled with houses.

Gratitude

Being thankful, I've been reading, leads to improved health and happiness. So I've been thinking about the things I'm grateful for, (since I'm definitely in favor of good health and happiness). Certainly I have had a lot of Gratitudes (kind of like Beatitudes, I think) this Thanksgiving time of year.

First, I am so very grateful for all my friends. Friends pick me up when I'm down, share my joys and share their joys and sorrows with me. This year, once again, friends shared our Thanksgiving meal with us. I love having people here for Thanksgiving and our kids often cannot make it. So we have friends who come each year. Thank you Millikan family! Here they are at the table. And here are Gina and Linnet posing in the swamp, during our traditional walk-after-turkey-day-dinner, teaching us that we should never be too old to enjoy splashing through the water in rubber boots.























I am also thankful for our great children, their wonderful spouses, and the delightful grandchildren they have given us. This year our California kids spent Thanksgiving with our Washington kids (who have a horse ranch and are stuck at home like we are), then took the train south to spend a few days with us. I am so glad the cousins who live so far apart were able to spend time together. Kestrel and Cedrus' mom took these photos of the boys together. Ian was thrilled to have his young cousins visit. And they, obviously, adore him.



























Of course, grandparents are always thankful to have their grandchildren visit. We picked up Steve and Munazza and Kestrel and Cedrus from the Amtrak station in Portland and took them for a short visit with Steve's high school chums Ingrid and Brad and their three children. Kestrel and Inez are almost the same age, but Kestrel was shy. Inez isn't! And all kids love silly Johnny.
Home here on the farm, Kestrel and Cedrus were eager to make apple cider with Grandpa Johnny the way cousin Ian had done a few weeks ago. I was thankful the weather cooperated and stopped raining long enough to do it! But it was cold enough for snowsuits.

Kestrel rolls up his sleeves to wash apples................... Cedrus drops apples into the grinder.
























Kestrel liked turning the press... and tasting the cider!

























Cedrus rescued the "baby apples" and kept them safely out of the grinder.



The boys also helped Grandpa split wood, gather eggs, and feed the goats. Kestrel watched Grandma milk the goats and feed the horses (but no one seemed too interested in helping me clean the barns.)


Kestrel and Cedrus enjoyed checking the trail camera and seeing what animals had come overnight while they were sleeping. Sometimes, it was fun to be a silly animal in front of the camera. Here are we all. Can you see Steve's fangs? Cedrus wasn't at all sure about this nonsense.




Surely this Thanksgiving season has given me enough things to be grateful for to keep me healthy and happy for a long time. Once I rest up. Holidays are fun but seem to get more exhausting the older I get. Here's hoping I can keep putting on my rubber boots and splashing through the puddles with friends and family for years to come.