Stoney Moss » Oregon

Portland Christmas Bird Count 2009

Deb — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 17:04:21 +0000

I had to scoot to get home at the end of the day, so don’t have the exact numbers of the count from yesterday (I left them with another person so they could be added to the total counts for our area) but I can say there were fewer numbers of birds out and about yesterday, and a few less species, too.

Everyone who gathered at the coffee shop the end of the day seemed to be disappointed in quantities, but perhaps there will be additional surprises that will be known later.

My group’s best sighting was a Western screech owl sitting in a hole in a front yard tree. The resident came out (in her jammies) and asked the three of us lookers/counters if we wanted to see the owl (we were admiring the seven perfectly round woodpecker holes facing the street). “Sure, we said,” thinking she had a photograph to show us. “Come on the lawn and look. He’s right there.” And the little screech owl was poking his head out of the cavity, facing the house, and stayed there for a long while while we chit chatted and admired him. Seems he is quite famous on Sixth Street.

One of us birders is quite knowledgeable and brought with her a good spotting scope on a tripod (which we took turns carrying). That made studying a few of the birds, such as several groups of goldfinch, quite a delight for we were able to look them over and try to distinguish between lesser and American goldfinch. We ultimately decided they were all lesser goldfinch, except for one. I am quite sure I saw the distinctive wing mark of an American, so that is how we counted it. I’m personally pleased at one sighting for I payed attention to some particular trees and was sure that their seed balls (sweet gum) would be desired by goldfinches, and sure enough: We watched and were rewarded with a dozen. I am now quite convinced those are what I occasionally see in my sycamore. (I was last year, too. But now I am really convinced.)

We also saw a Cooper’s hawk in the afternoon after having had a long while of not spotting a soul. That was a nice sighting, if not a surprise, for we could study him in leisure. (We did debate if he was a sharpie, for his tail was straight rather than rounded, yet he had a definite hood, which a sharp-shinned hawk does not have. Their size overlaps, the tail could have looked flatter than it was, and Cooper’s are expected more in the area than are sharpies. Another distinguishing factor is the set of the eye. While they are both set about as far away from the bill, the Cooper’s appears to be more forward since its head is so much bigger. I hope this helps me in the future, for I think I’ve seen both in my backyard at my feeders.)

It was also nice to study a ruby-crowned kinglet and have the experienced birder give me pointers for how to distinguish it from the golden-crowned (necessary in winter for they both are much more drab and it’s hard to distinguish any crown “on the run” — the ruby has a much more distinctive eye ring). She also pointed out the beak difference in a hairy vs. downy woodpecker — I have been relying on size only to distinguish them. (The hairy’s is much longer proportionately to it’s head. According to All About Birds, that difficulty distinguishing between the two makes me a beginning birder! Ah, but I am avid, if still a beginner.)

Our other nice sighting was a red-breasted sapsucker, who we could study with the scope. Such a pretty, pretty bird. He worked a deciduous tree and was flinging moss off like a enthused house-cleaner. Those readers outside the Pacific Northwest may never have seen one.

Other favorites seen were a pair of varied thrushes and several Townsend’s warblers. (Spotted by me, too!)

MIA (from last year’s list):
Hairy Woodpecker
Pileated Woodpecker
Brown Creeper
House Sparrow

The other wonderful thing was that it was not terribly cold and it never rained on us. That was a big difference from the last few years, too. My first year it was very cold, and one year we were tormented by sleet. This was my fourth outing, I believe. Maybe it is only the third. No. It’s the fourth. But not the last.

festival of trees

Deb — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 04:01:12 +0000

I love trees. It may be from living so long without many in the northern Arizona high desert where I was raised. I easily fell in love with the big cottonwoods that stood at the gate to my grandparents house in Bagdad and can conjure their scent at will, and their slow rustle in a breeze. Perhaps drawing trees, a favorite pastime in all phases of life, etched them in my mind. Whatever the reason I was delighted to move to Portland, Oregon in 1994 and bought my house because of the trees that surround it, for the tree tunnel on one route that brings me home.

I recently read some house-selling advice in the Arizona Republic. (Who knows why I read the article. Maybe out of boredom.) The advice I hated the most was to take out any trees that hid the house from the street.

I’d have to kill two big-leaf maples to follow that advice, and I’m not going to, even if I ever decide it’s time to move. (And those maples are our only Oregon natives, other than the Oregon white oak sapling progeny from a still sadly missed tree that was fatally damaged in a wind storm a few years ago. You can read more about that here.) The sycamore (a London plane tree) and the European birch could stay, as could the pigeon tree. But not those maples.

The leaves on my street

They shroud the street view in the summer. The Google map street view of my house, above, is a summer shot and you can’t see much but leaves. When I give people directions to my house, I suggest, “look for the house you can’t see.” There’s a lot of benefit to sitting behind all those trees.

Privacy: There are no curtains on the front room windows and it’s delightful to have such a view, especially in the dark winter when the bare limbs bring so much texture, or the summer to cool the eye (not to mention sitting on cool grass in full shade. Or in fall when the leaves are golden and the harvesting vast.

Exercise: Yes, there are a lot of leaves to manage into compost!

Credit: The City of Portland reduces sewer rates for having trees and not dumping runoff from gutters into the system.

Wildlife: The robins go crazy for our yard. I’ve counted flocks of a couple dozen in the fall. The squirrels love everything about our yard (except our dog) and lots of other birds are happy, too. Lots and lots.

Private Park: That’s what everyone says, “It looks like a park!”

And there is another benefit from these trees. One of the maples is #10, a part of the Citizen Tree Project. Every first of the month I take a reading on the dendrometer that the students/faculty at Portland State University made and installed on this tree and send it to them. This information will provide data — tree growth — that they will use in a study to determine the impact of global climate change.

Dendrometer & squirrel hair

PSU students

I don’t have much faith in the future, but I am glad to be a part of this project. And to keep these trees faith.

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Want to savor other trees? Go to the Festival of the Trees, which is hosted in January at xenogere.

wordless Wednesday

Deb — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 05:05:09 +0000

Shadow Shot Sunday

Deb — Sat, 28 Nov 2009 02:13:10 +0000

Thanksgiving Day (in the USA; Portland, Oregon to be exact) was sodden. Yesterday we had four times our average rain (0.86 in vs. 0.20 in) and I’d thought it was to continue all week and weekend. But, Friday was lovely, so here is a fresh shadow.

(I’m obsessing on bare trees and crows at the moment. Be warned. It’s not the sharpest focus, sorry, but the texture and crazy shapes make up for that, I hope.)

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Hey Harriet. A weekly post where you can see galleries of some of last week’s shots and a tour of Hey Harriet’s own creative work. Terrific images nicely put together. (Bink on the camera to go to Hey Harriet.) See Mr. Linky for this week’s offerings.

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Outside the First Presbyterian Church in November

Deb — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 23:00:33 +0000

Outside the First Presbyterian Church in November
Portland, Oregon

Ginkgoes form an old processional.
Pleased golden paws fulfill their pledge,

a promise to mirror pigment of artful
glass while gray tones echo cut

stone, marching to and from fall mist.
Ancient shapes plaster the sidewalk,

reminders, not pernicious, they once
purveyed a timeless era. Their policy,

these remarkable species, to pave
the ground plane nearly all at once.

Tomorrow no procrastination,
they’ll leave the porous air and ply

their brightness at playing-field level
rather than prickle what’s not broken

blue. If I could sit as still I’d be gone,
too, no posthumous apology, no parade.

“The Ginkgo is a living fossil, with fossils recognisably [sic] related to modern Ginkgo from the Permian, dating back 270 million years.” From the Wikipedia entry.

Based on a Read Write Poem Wordle prompt using quite a few, but not all of the p-words. (I guess I should tell you which ones, right? Okay: posthumous, processional, plasters, prickle, pernicious, porous, please, procrastinate. I didn’t use seven of the others, but did add a bunch of my own p’s. Or better said, p’s of my own choosing. I don’t own them.)

You want more p’s? Go here (starting Thursday) for this week’s collection from the Read Write Poem community.

already missing the blue

Deb — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 16:15:35 +0000

Hummingbird on alert

Muted Senses Are On Alert

The hours of civil light leave piecemeal
Clouded by normal twists in a natural world

Crepuscular hunters win the long twilight
And wrestle blue from October’s sky to ground

Damp pushes moods to sit close, hog the blanket
Musty from a short summer. Matutinal edicts

Are forced on those who crave the long slant light
Long draughts to pull through winter skies

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I love how Dale relishes the moist, dark seasons in the Pacific Northwest. But I am just not there, yet. I am in mourning for a summer that didn’t seem to happen, fall light I want more of. I didn’t get my fill. I don’t need my wintering in, just yet. I’m a bit of a bird on alert, scanning the sky for blue.

(That’s our resident Anna’s hummingbird. Thankfully they stay year round.)

Shadow Shot Sunday

Deb — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 16:41:35 +0000

A sunny walk along the Willamette River, under the Morrison Bridge:

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Do go check out Hey Harriet. She creates galleries of some of the last week shots and takes you on a tour of her own. Terrific images nicely put together. This week she’s got three fantastic river shots herself! Serendipity: I love it. (Bink on the camera to go to Hey Harriet.)

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Ramona Falls

Deb — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 16:30:30 +0000

(Click through a couple of times to get to larger pictures. The first two are especially worth it, if I do say so myself.)

Ramona Falls is worth the 90-minute drive from Portland, especially if it’s a beautiful, off-season day. My friend and I saw few people on the trail (a lot less than Mirror Lake two weeks ago, not too many more than Burnt Lake last Friday) and there was plenty of time and space to take in the basalt wall fall.

What I had forgotten is that getting to the falls is incredible, too, especially if you take the longer hiker’s trail and avoid the horse path.

3.7 miles one-way and 1000 feet is a small, small offering to be able to enjoy mountains and streams, especially in diminishing fall light.

There were no yellow jackets around, either!

another Mount Hood hike

Deb — Sat, 19 Sep 2009 16:58:37 +0000

I knew I should take advantage of a beautiful Friday (how many are left?) to hike with Sport. I dithered about where to go because I didn’t want to drive far (take too much time) or be too remote or in fall hunting territory (safety issues). So I decided to try the Burnt Lake hike (Sullivan 2006/7 #68), which is about 90 minutes from my home, 7.3 miles long (including the lake loop), with a 1,500 feet elevation gain.

The lake is named after a massive 19th century fire that has left large (10-foot-wide) blackened tree skeletons behind.

This was a new hike for me, although I’d thought for a bit my hiking partner and I had done it before (Cast Lake is what I was remembering) and full of second growth Doug fir, hemlock and cedar. The trail is between Burnt Lake Creek and Lost Creek for a while, then crosses Burnt Lake Creek to traverse steep mountain flanks and enter a valley.

Every trail brings something new. This one had the lake, with another glorious Mt Hood view, strange flowers I don’t know (and still don’t — any ideas?) and two encounters with yellow jackets.

I got bit (one found its way down my shirt and bit a tender area on my left breast!) on the way up, and on the way down Sport snuffled something in about the same spot (I should have remembered where I was — there was huckleberried bear scat on the trail). He whimpered and whined and I found six or so on him and more flying around, buried in his fur. Ugh! I pulled some off (getting bit in the process), we ran on ahead a bit, got a few more out, ran on ahead. Stressful for him (he’s a baby!) and worrisome (he is allergic to a lot of things & I couldn’t remember if these were one). He was okay, just stressed. I am itchy and swollen today where bites were worse. He isn’t trying to scratch himself, so he should be okay. In the first aid kit: Benedryl.

Here are a few more photos. The strangely podded plant is Western Skunk Cabbage (also known as swamp lanterns). It had huge leaves, perhaps 24-inches or longer; the pod was about six inches long. It was found in a boggy area by the lake. I haven’t been able to identify the purple-flowered plant.

Enjoy a few more snaps (click through a couple of times to get to larger images).

drinking the good drink

Deb — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 06:05:28 +0000

Another bit of confluence:

Our weekend away spoiled by smoke, we stayed in town. One treat: happy hour at a Good Bar. Teardrop Cocktail Lounge in the Pearl.

Saturday late afternoon about five. Still hot in the city, we sat at the bar and asked the owner for recommendations. Two cocktails each. Not cheap, not pricey. Made with great ingredients & craftsmanship. Yep. Crafted. Juices juiced to order, peels peeled just for us. Measured accurately. Ice hand cracked or crushed with a stick over a canvas money bag. Delicious. I should have written my choices down. I loved them. I even like gin now. But I loved one of Mark’s even better. A classic, the owner said, The Chrysanthemum. Who knew? But with an unusual combination of dry vermouth, the liqueur Benedictine, and absinthe — faint licorice taste paired with orange — heaven! I kept sniffing the empty glass with its orange twist. I’d buy the perfume if I could.

Then I happened on an article by Robert Messenger, a senior editor at The Weekly Standard. An excellent article about just what our owner/bartender told us: The Cocktail Renaissance. (Nice history on the cocktail and thoughts about where cocktails are going. I’m on that ride.)

The other thing? I had a nice buzz; when I got home I left it alone. I didn’t want to taint the delicious experience with any old well drink I threw together. I was satisfied. That’s saying something.