I’m pleased to be able to say that a poem from my book, Being, has been published in the UO Environmental Studies spring publication of Ecotone. See page 12.

It’s funny how one thing can lead to another and that to another until what you started to write about turns into something else. My goal was to tell about some of the time I was attending the University of California at Berkeley. I’d gone my freshman year to Shasta Community College (then called Shasta Junior College) in Redding, California. At that time the college was located along Eureka Ave. (Highway 299) where the high school is today. My sophomore year I attended Humboldt State in Arcata and from there transferred to Berkeley where I was totally a fish out of water. Suddenly I was dealing with busy streets, a very large campus and no familiar landmarks. This was not my environment of forests and streams and hiking trails but the sounds and smells of the city and the need to pay attention to street signs. I will admit, though, that the smell of the doughnut shop on the corner was quite pleasant.

I lived in a building that, according to the deed, was to house only white, Christian women, although one semester I had an Asian woman for a roommate. She and I are still good friends. Later the building had to be converted to offices because of this caveat, now illegal.

The first year I took 17 units that included a foreign language and a science class that included lab sessions. All I did was study. It took me an extra semester to graduate because of a couple of unfulfilled requirements. But sometime during those two and-a-half years I took a wildlife management  class and a forest ecology class as part of my major requirements and worked on projects for those classes by hiking up into Strawberry Canyon above campus, which I’m sure helped save my sanity. I was able to look at my surroundings and write about them in a somewhat scientific way, describing the pine trees, the woodrat nests, and other animal and bird life. During my years at Berkeley I also joined the hiking club.

I wasn’t an “in-group” member of the hiking club but found value in the campfire and the singing of songs in the eucalyptus grove as well as several backpack trips, my first. I still have a worn copy of Song Fest, a 1956 edition of a book that started in 1944 as a collection of songs put together by the Intercollegiate Outing Club Association (LOCA), which was founded in 1932. This is something I just learned this afternoon, never having examined the book except as a container of songs, a number of which would be considered politically incorrect today. When new, the book cover was bright yellow with red print, a paperback. Now only the spine of the book retains any of that color and the pages are bent at the corners and stained. What has reminded me of Song Fest, off and on, is a street I cross during my neighborhood walk—Eddystone Street. One of the songs in the book is “The Keeper of the Eddystone Light”:
“My father was the keeper of the Eddystone Light,
He slept with a mermaid one fine night,
From this union there came three:
A porpoise, a porgy, and the other was me.
Yo ho ho, the wind blows free,
Oh, for a life on the rolling sea!”
There are several verses.
In the dark the eucalyptus grove seemed a world separate from campus, smooth trunks lit by the flickering bonfire and the strong scent of eucalyptus leaves mixed with wood smoke. At the end of a singing evening someone would inevitably throw a tire on the fire, or more than one, and the flames would shoot upward and the air become strong with the scent of burning rubber. At that point the songs would conclude with “Throw a tire on the fire and you’ll expire.” It’s a wonder the grove didn’t burn. Eucalyptus trees were brought to the United States from Australia in the late 19th century as a fast-growing tree but since the Oakland fire of 1991 you can no longer plant them because of their high flammability. I have no memory of there being other words but “Throw a tire on the fire and you’ll expire” seemed pretty conclusive.

The hiking club also offered folk dancing and rock climbing. I went on one beginning rock-climbing training session at Indian Rock and decided that was more than enough for me. Too bad I didn’t stick with it.

Another urban experience with the hiking club, I guess a small branch of it or maybe just a group led by a member, was a trip through the steam tunnels. I still wonder how I got up the courage to do this since I was always somewhat of a “goody two-shoes” and very law abiding at that age. Beneath the campus are numerous large tunnels that contain pipes carrying water and steam and who knows what else to the various buildings on campus. One night we met, I think near the science building, and walked down steps to a door that led into the basement area and its tunnel. I don’t remember how we opened the door. Then we were in the dark tunnel. We had flashlights and could see the roof and piping above us had some condensation that dripped down occasionally. The lead person knew his way around and eventually we opened a door that led into the basement of another building. Suddenly, as we proceeded cautiously down the hallway, a custodian came around the corner. “Run! Run!” And we darted back to where we had entered, some chortling. I’m not sure who was the most surprised at that meeting but his eyes certainly got larger.

I just did a search for the tunnels on line and found this warning from 2001.
http://archive.dailycal.org/article/5703/campus_steam_tunnels_are_not_toys

Obviously we didn’t know all this back then. And here’s more from Wikipedia.

“Underneath UC Berkeley’s oldest buildings is a system of steam tunnels which carry steam for heat and power.[1] During the 1960s, Berkeley students chained the doorknobs of the Chancellor’s office in protest over the Vietnam War. The Chancellor, having no other way in or out of the building, used the steam tunnels to escape. Afterwards, the exterior double doors on that building were changed so they only had one doorknob, and this remains today.”

On my first backpacking trip I carried a small aluminum Kelty frame with everything wrapped in plastic and tied with cords. We hiked into the Sierras, one time going to Yosemite Valley, another time to the Mt. Dana area and another to the east side near Bishop. During the Yosemite Valley trip some of us climbed up Half Dome. Heights are not my strong point and looking at the photos I’m surprised if I did this. Perhaps I just stayed at the bottom of where the cables start. It’s hard to tell from the photos.

The hiking club led also to my first and last trip of camping in the snow in a tent. All the girls were in one tent and the boys in the other. My sleeping bag was along an outside wall. I froze! In the morning we chopped a hole in the ice of Fallen Leaf Lake to get water. I remember drinking hot chocolate with just a little water in it and it tasted wonderful, like hot fudge warming my stomach! I’d been on skis but had no business skiing with a backpack at that time considering my limited skiing abilities. The next trip I used snowshoes and we stayed in a ski lodge. There was no running water but we had a wood fire so were warm.

In my searches on the internet I came across a UC Hiking Club newsletter, The Bear Track, from 1958 that looks as if it were copied on one of those old jell type copy trays. It was published four times a year. Someone wrote about going to Gilmore Lake. I have a photo of Gilmore Lake (see above lake photo) from my time in the hiking club but am not sure whether or not this was the same year. There is also a list in the newsletter of all the members and my name is there as are the names of two people who lived in my dorm. I still correspond at Christmas with Joan and hadn’t realized she was in the club. Funny! She had a paragraph in the newsletter as well so was probably more active with the organization. I also discovered a website that is seeking former members and serving as source for members from all the years so I sent in my information.

Time to stop this rambling. It is easy to get pulled into the internet for hours, particularly when searching for memories.

Wednesday was the last day of the sparrow/finch identification class and we got a bit damp around the edges. But our search near Fern Ridge Reservoir, at the end of Royal Avenue, resulted in our seeing the last two sparrows on our list, the Grasshopper and Savannah Sparrows. The Bureau of Land Management (BLM) has been improving wetlands habitat here and they’ve also established a couple of paths In the area.

While we were searching for these two birds we had the good fortune to have three different kinds of swallows perch on a wire fence just a short distance away so we were able to clearly see the differences: cliff, barn and tree swallows.

At first the rain was just an occasional shower. As we headed up a different route that would bring us closer to the reservoir we saw two different American Bitterns, something we all had hoped to spot, although they are not a common bird. The first one made a quick flight across our path but the second paralleled us for a ways and offered a great view. They often hide in their marshy habitat by pointing the bill up and being quite still so that their streaks make them seem like just more grass. Their sound, from a distance, is said to be like a mallet driving a steak or two rocks being cracked together. At closer range it has been described as an aquatic pump sound. When it flew, with legs stretched out behind and beak reaching forward, I could see that the neck had a kind of pouch in it, similar to that of a great blue heron in flight. The bittern feeds on fish, amphibians and aquatic insects, and nests in clumps of grass in a marsh. This solitary bird is most active at dusk but perhaps the rainy day was helpful in making them more active during the day.  I felt really fortunate, having seen only one before.

At the reservoir viewing-platform we were able to see gadwalls, black terns, purple martins and others but the cold and rain made most of us migrate back to our cars. Adding up species seen by both the Sunday and Wednesday classes we tallied 91! Thanks to Dave Bontrager for this great class!

Today I hurried over to the other side of town (South Eugene) to take in the ribbon-cutting ceremony at the Wild Birds Unlimited Nature Shop, recently opened by Barbara and Dan Gleason, long-time birders in the Eugene area. Dan has published several books on birds and Barbara is an excellent bird artist.

The store is bright and cheerful and carries something for everyone interested in birds from binoculars to books and from seed to suet. I left with a new bird feeder, a couple of other items, and one year’s membership that will give us 15% off on bird food purchased there.

Congratulations to Barbara and Dan!

Finding something unusual when you’re hiking takes time and patience. Sometimes something really interesting has happened when I’ve been walking along but, more often than not, the unusual shows up when I’m sitting very still, perhaps taking a short break or eating lunch. And often it takes some time, as if my mind and body have to settle into a state of calm and awareness.

Last week I was sitting on a bench at the Mt. Pisgah Arboretum, eating my lunch while serving my volunteer time watching a parking lot to help prevent car clouting. It was a pleasant day, not too hot or too cold and there was shade from the oak trees leafing out overhead. I noticed two very small birds, Brown Creepers, searching the moss on the trees, moving rapidly from one spot to another and gathering something in their beaks. Using my binoculars I could see the material was lichens, tiny twigs and even cottonwood down. They were flying to the base of an oak snag about 10 feet from me and then disappearing around on the other side. I suspected nest building, so after lunch returned to the car for my camera. The lower four feet of the tree was mostly bark-less. A bird would land at the base of the tree and then ascend to where there was thick moss and disappear into it. Brown Creepers have this pattern of flying to the base of a tree and then working their way up. They never go down. Even with my telephoto lens it was hard to see these little birds, they are so camouflaged. I took a number of pictures, some with no bird at all, two with a creeper on the trunk, one with it entering the hole in the moss, and one with part of an outstretched wing. Speedy little birds!

I also checked on the nest of the flicker, about a quarter of a  mile away, that I had seen during a previous bird identification class,  and she was still there. That means the starlings, so far, have not driven her out. The nest hole opening is a little harder to see now that the leaves on the oaks and maples have grown.

Also last week, I saw online that the Raptor Center was going to be releasing a female Bald Eagle out at Perkins Peninsula, a county park along Fern Ridge Reservoir. Grandchildren were all busy doing something else but I didn’t want to miss it so I went out there, about a 30-minute drive. This eagle had been fighting with another female in the Cottage Grove area but she was being released here where it appeared there were no other eagles nesting. Some people in Cottage Grove had seen the two eagles fighting for a period of at least two hours before they both fell to the earth, still fighting. When Raptor Center personnel got there the other eagle flew away but this one was too badly injured, with deep talon marks in her chest. They thought the other eagle probably had a nest nearby and was also probably larger than this 12-pound bird. Apparently a nesting female will escort a strange male through her territory but will attack another female. After stitches and antibiotics and other care over a two-week period, the badly wounded eagle was ready to be released.

A crowd of about 100 was there to watch. Someone got a photo of her inside the cage just as the door was opened. She had reared backwards with claws extended for protection, then shot forward just above the ground, head low, tail low, then ascending and curving west across the water toward the setting sun before landing in some trees. What a sight!

“That must be a Bewick’s Wren,” I exclaimed, when one member of our group spotted a face in the dark hole of a small snag. “Look at the white eyebrow!” Ooops..turned out it was the striped face of a small chipmunk peering out at us from a hole about 15 feet above the ground.

This spring I registered for a class on sparrow and finch identification neither of which has been one of my strong points. Sparrows? I know the White Crowned and the Gold Crowned because of the crowns. But others are more difficult. Finches? Well, they often have a delightful song and when they fly they have an up and down, roller-coaster sort of pattern. American Goldfinch is hard to confuse with anything else except the Lesser Goldfinch because of its bright yellow color and jaunty black cap. House Finch is like a sparrow with a red flush of head and breast. But winter plumage makes everything more confusing. And there are lots of sparrows and lots of finches and, besides, it’s a great way to go for short hikes and to learn something new.

I’ve taken a couple of classes from Dave Bontrager before and have enjoyed getting to know the other birders as well as having some interesting birding. And Dave always has some great stories to tell about past birding adventures. For the sparrow/finch class we’ve had one evening meeting and will have a total of four daytime field trips that begin at 8 a.m. and end around 12 p.m.

Our first day was a walk along a dirt road at Howard Buford Recreation area where, although we didn’t get rained on, it was overcast and the grass was wet. Despite the damp day we saw a number of our intended birds as well as many others including a great view of a pileated woodpecker. The terrain was fairly level and consisted of open grassland as well as oaks, ash and big leaf maple. I left the trip early and, after I left, the others got a good look at a bald eagle.

Last week was another trip to Buford Recreation Area but this time closer to the Arboretum. We were pleased to be able to see a female red-shafted flicker enlarging a nesting hole in what appeared to be a cottonwood snag about 10 inches in diameter at the base. The snag had toppled over onto the trunks of a big-leaf maple. Before we saw the nesting cavity we observed an adult flicker in a tree above it darting at two starlings. Our instructor said to not be surprised if the starlings end up taking over the nest, that this often happens, and sometimes the flickers will go elsewhere to nest.

Today we drove over to the 250-acre Doris Ranch in Springfield. The Doris Ranch is the oldest, still productive, filbert orchard in Oregon. It frosted last night so I was bundled against the cold but by mid-morning was shedding my warm clothes. The arrival of a group of school children prodded us away from our first viewing area and further up the hill where we observed along the edge of meadows, oaks, ash, old orchard trees and shrubs. Some trees offered a full 20 minutes of observing a variety of birds, particularly the wide spreading branches of Oregon White Oak, not yet fully leafed out. The green meadows were brightened by a multitude of camas, purple flowers opening along tall stalks. It was a joy to be out there with birdsong, wildflowers and cheerful observations. Even the poison oak leaves were a nice combination of green and red. We tromped through wet meadows and dry ones and spent some time listening to and looking at Black-headed Grosbeaks. My mother used to tell me that their melodious song was “cordelia, cordelia, cordelia”, climbing slowly up the scale. To date we’ve seen most of our targeted species, as well as a wide variety of other species. One treat this day was seeing a male and female American Goldfinch, a male and female Lesser Goldfinch, and several chipping sparrows all in one small area. And of course, the chipmunk.

Saturday, April 13th, I left home around 6:30 heading for the Oregon Poetry Association (OPA) Spring 2013 Conference co-sponsored by the Silverton Poetry Association (SPA). This was a 3-day event but I chose to drive up just for the Saturday session, held in the Orchid Room of the Oregon Gardens Resort in Silverton. I needed to get there close to 8 a.m. because I was taking some of my books and books from Groundwaters Publishing for the book table.

The sky was overcast and the day was a mixture of brief sunlight and showers but the drive was beautiful with Willamette Valley green fields and hills. Sheep were in the meadows and cows were, not in the corn, but in the meadows. As I was leaving Eugene and crossing over the McKenzie River on Spores Bridge, near Armitage County Park, a bald eagle flew across right in front of me. A few minutes later wave after wave of geese flew from west to east across the early morning sky–not so much waves as beads from a broken necklace, beads with wings, one ragged V and then another and another and another.

I was glad I had my GPS plugged in when I got to Salem so that I knew which exit to take and how to find the correct street leading to the highway to Silverton. Actually I never did get to Silverton since the GPS had me turn shortly before reaching that interesting small town.

The conference began with some board members from both OPA and SPA sharing a few of their favorite poems. Then we had a choice of two workshops, one on obsessions (what do we individually obsess about in our poems) by Jennifer Richter and the other on Poetry as Renewal by Don Colburn. During breaks and at lunch we were able to browse through the books on the book table and purchase if we so desired. I was pleased that two of my books, Being, sold. We also heard the poets who placed in the spring contest read their poems. The day was well organized and, at the same time, relaxed.

In addition, attendees received a copy of the 2012 edition of Verseweavers (love that name) a yearly publication that contains all the winning poems from the spring and fall OPA contests for that year. I wasn’t a winner but am listed as one of those who received honorable mention for a poem (fall contest). Also, a photograph that I took in the Eugene wetlands is used in this book opposite page one. The editor, Eleanor Berry, contacted me before publication to ask permission to use Light on Water after she had seen it on my website (Wetland Wander, Sept. 2012).

By the end of the day I was ready to punch “home” on my GPS and head back the way I’d come. There’s nothing like total emersion in a topic to inspire and energize. I was delighted to get acquainted with new people and to learn several have more in common with me than being poets.

Mt. Pisgah Arboretum

This is the time of year to get out and see the early wildflowers, in between Pacific Northwest rain showers and often accompanied by rainbows against the surrounding dark clouds. Last week, on a sun-filled day, I visited the Mt. Pisgah Arboretum, which is located on the lower slopes of 1,531-foot Mt. Pisgah, within the Howard Buford Recreation Area, a 2,300-acre regional park. Buford Park is under the jurisdiction of Lane County Parks. The 209-acre Arboretum and botanical garden is located along the Coast Fork of the Willamette River and offers a varied habitat ranging from oak savanna to evergreen forests of Douglas-fir and incense cedar.

Buford Recreation Area has over 17 miles of trails, seven within the Arboretum. Several are open for horseback riding as well as hiking. No horses are allowed in the Arboretum.

I have volunteered to be a park watcher for this non-profit organization and will be spending two two-hour shifts a month over a period of six months (for a total of 24 hours) watching parking lots for any signs of vandalism. In the process I might talk to visitors, pick up some garbage, watch birds with my binoculars, and/or report anything that needs to be brought to the attention of Arboretum or county park staff.

My plan is to try to hike some either before or after my shift. So far I’ve hiked to the top of Mt. Pisgah (1.4 miles one way) on one day and last week I explored some of the trails in the Arboretum.

The Arboretum was established in 1969, originally as a site for trees from around the world, but now features native trees and plants. There is even a small wildflower garden. The wildflowers are labeled so that visitors are better able to learn the flowers found in the area. Numerous trails wind through the forests and meadows including one trail that goes through a water garden where, if you are lucky, you may spot a western pond turtle or two among the giant lily pads.

Two events I look forward to every year at the Arboretum are the Mushroom Festival in October and the Wildflower Festival in May. Public amenities include an oak-shaded picnic area, restrooms, and the White Oak Pavilion, which may be rented for special occasions.

A $3 fee is charged for day use of the Arboretum or a season parking ticket may be purchased.

This last Monday my eldest grandson and I visited Finley Wildlife Refuge, 10 miles south of Corvallis. Several years ago he and I had gone there with no idea what to expect and had a wonderful time exploring the trails, watching birds and even getting a distant glimpse of the elk herd that wanders the area. He is almost 14 now and I was grateful that he wanted to go there with me once again.

Finley, which lies in the foothills of the coast range, was established in 1964 primarily as resting habitat for dusky Canada Geese. These geese “nest on Alaska’s Copper River Delta and winter almost exclusively in the Willamette Valley.” The 5,325 acre area was named for William L. Finley, “an early conservationist who persuaded President Theodore Roosevelt to set aside the first national wildlife refuge west of the Mississippi River.”

Wildlife habitat includes ponds, streams, oak savannah, upland prairie, and wet prairie habitat with ash, big leaf maple, Douglas fir, and Oregon white oak being the dominant trees. Local farmers “balance grain production with the needs of the migratory geese.” In addition to the grains Finley Wildlife Refuge “has the largest remaining tract of native Willamette Valley wetland prairie.” (Quotes are from U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service information).

Where Finley Road enters the main part of the refuge there’s a restroom and a short path with explanatory markers next to a small pond. We found that the woodrat nest beside the restroom, toward the back, is still there and has gotten a little larger as the woodrats have added sticks over the years.

Our first walking spot was the boardwalk, a wheelchair accessible trail extending out over a wetland area through an ash forest. The Homer Campbell Memorial Boardwalk is about a half-mile in length and ends at a blind overlooking the Cabell Marsh, a shallow reservoir. Right after a rain the ash trees are dense with lichens as if the trees were in bloom. This year there are a number of trees recently gnawed upon by beavers. One large tree looks as if the beaver decided it was simply too large to continue with but others were gnawed almost all the way through. In fact, one tree appeared to have fallen only a short distance before becoming entangled with another and thus prevented from falling. We could also see a beaver dam with a sizeable pond behind it. We hadn’t seen this in previous visits but perhaps we were a little later in the year then and leaves may have blocked the view.

We were there during the middle of the day so there were not many birds on the water but we did see cormorants and some ducks and later a great blue heron flying low over the lake. Nick spotted a swallow nest above our heads in the middle of the sloped ceiling of the blind, obviously built this year. When my husband and I were here about a month ago the willows were alive with yellow-rumped warblers. Nick and I saw a pair of bushtits.

From the boardwalk we drove to the refuge office where there is a nature store but it’s open only Friday through Sunday. It was worth the stop though because a helpful employee showed us some photographs on display in the office area and told us they’d recently seen a golden eagle dive-bombing geese on the nearby pond trying to separate one out from the flock. The geese wedged tightly together apparently to try to thwart the eagle. We also saw a hummingbird there (they have a feeder) and Nick spotted an acorn woodpecker in one of the oak trees.

After some informative conversation at the office we drove back to the Woodpecker Trail parking lot where we ate our lunch and then started up the trail. Again, this was familiar territory for both of us and I’ve gone with Nick and his younger brother on this 1.2- mile loop before. In fact the first time the brothers and I did this we saw a bobcat just as we were getting out of the car. No such excitement this time though and others were also out enjoying the trail so we were content with just taking the hike. We circled to the right and, at the top of the rise, were soon looking out from a wooden platform that encircles a large Oregon white oak and provides a view across the meadows toward the coast range. From there the trail winds down to a small pond—a good spot to eat lunch if you haven’t eaten yet—and there is a memorial bench to sit on and view the reflections of trees bending over the water.

The trail then goes through a small forest of ash trees and then a blending of oak, big leaf maple and Douglas fir. Another trail branches off that we took a previous year that takes you to the Mill Hill Loop of 2.6 miles. We’ve done only a portion of that trail in the past.

From Woodpecker Hill we headed for home, stopping , while still in the refuge, to walk up to a blind on the edge of a large meadow with a view across a pond toward a historic red barn. It was in this meadow that we’d seen elk on our first visit. It would be fun to be here, looking out one of the small viewing windows when there were birds on the pond or elk grazing nearby. Our only wildlife siting for this spot was a rough-skinned newt that Nick saw in the murky pond water. I did find several sessile trilliums in bloom along the muddy path through the woods though and false hellebore about two-feet high. I hadn’t known that hellebore grew in the valley, having always associated it with the mountains. Reservations are required for use of this blind. Then it was time to head for home with a refreshing stop for ice cream in the town of Junction City along the way.

Groundwaters Publishing has produced a new book of poems entitled Ripples on the Water that contains poems from their quarterly publications. Four of my poems, also found in my book, Being, are included.

This weekend I received an email from an associate professor/insect systematist (also the associate director of the Essig Museum of Entomology) at U.C. Berkeley who had a question about Silver Slipper Campground and creek, which I’ve mentioned in a previous entry. Silver Slipper is the name of a small campground that has campsites next to Silver Slipper Creek at Castle Crags State Park. He had done a computer search for Silver Slipper. The professor is working on a large research project geo-referencing insects from California that are in their collection. He was trying to track down the location where a particular beetle had been collected and the location had been listed as Silver Slipper Campground at Castle Crags State Park. Could I somehow assist with an accurate location site, perhaps by using Google Earth? So I downloaded a new Google Earth, found California, found Castle Crags and then tried to locate Silver Slipper Campground/Creek. I found the meadow by looking north of Castle Creek and along the west side of I-5, knowing the freeway had covered the site where our house used to be. The campground was south of the meadow in the trees. Couldn’t see water or actual creek because of the tree density but I did see some dirt banks that I assume are along the creek. Put my curser on that and copied the longitude and latitude and elevation shown at the bottom of the screen. Turned out to be just what he needed! It was a good feeling to have had my blog useful for something besides my ramblings.

3-31-13

I finally got around to looking up information about this beetle, Pterostichus lama. It’s a predatory, ground-dwelling Carabid beetle, usually found in loose bark and rotting logs and is the largest Pterostrichus in N. America. These beetles are wingless and grow to more than one inch in length. They are swift hunters, preying on other insects. The larvae live in vertical burrows and keep their flat heads even with the ground to be able to snatch up unsuspecting prey. Pterostrichus lamas are found from S. California to Canada and from the Pacific coast east to at least as far as Nevada.