April 5, 2019
Out for another walk, unfortunately without my sidekick this time. It’s been cloudy all day, with the rain coming and going in sporadic downpours. Overwhelmingly bright and dry one moment, followed by a fury of hard droplets the next. The sound on the roof was thunderous. A rhythmic noise throughout the morning and afternoon, a reminder of outside happenings even when trapped indoors for a bit. So as soon as I got a chance to hit the trail I did.
But before truly venturing outside, I stop to watch an eccentric little bird who has been hanging around the visitor center all day. He was here yesterday too-making his presence well-known. Grasping the outer ledge of the many windows he’s been jumping upwards and flitting back into place- over and over and over again. Outstretching his small gray wings to guide the downward descent, gently thumping into the window and pushing his beak against the glass. “Thud, thump, bump” on the window he gently pecks. His neighbors perched on nearby trees seem to be watching their crazed friend. They continue to go about their day as usual, but every once and a while I’d catch one sitting and observing- tucked safely away from the scene in a nearby rhododendron or bare alder tree. Seemingly avoiding direct association with the flighty wild-child, yet unable to contain their curiosity. Again, the little critter zips into the air, zig-zags back and forth in an unusual frenzied pattern and lands again, this time on the upper roof. it stands tall, extending its skinny twig-legs as far as it can to peek over the window ledge- high above my head. It stares for some time with its determined black-beady eyes, before shimmying to the left and then to the right, bobbing its dark head all the while. My first thought was that perhaps it was attracted to the reflection of itself on the glass, either trying to attack and defend or perhaps even mate. Another bird had expressed the same behavior last year, though I had come to a different conclusion then. I realized that the accumulation of small insects and gnats was far too enticing to miss, and beakfulls were available if collected on the outer building ledges. Seems this dark-eyed junco (Junco hyemalis) had discovered that trick too-and he had perfected a dance to accompany his meal. What a wonderful quirk to witness- the ingenuity of this bird to catch insects in this fashion. I wonder to myself why other birds haven’t noted this free meal.
After stepping outside the first thing I noticed was the sweet smell in the air. The beginning of buds blooming on the Black Cottonwood trees. Second, was the comical little chipmunk hiding beneath our recycling station. I know he’s there- a small mammal resident I’ve had a few encounters with- but apparently stealth is of utmost importance to him. He disappears out of sight, only to emerge a few seconds later- checking to see if the coast is clear. He sees me, retreats back into the darkness and then pops out again. I think this mischievous rodent would appreciate some space to go about his garbage-raiding in privacy. It’s that time of year where it becomes routine to pick up the litter scraps he leaves behind- granola bar wrappers, pieces of discarded sandwich, chip bags loaded with crumbs, and nibbled fragments of paper packaging from fast-food joints. He’s ravenous, or perhaps he has a family to feed. Either way, I believe his presence represents a new task to add to my to-do-list! Hand-in-hand with this is the importance of teaching our visitors about respecting wildlife and appropriate camping etiquette associated with food storage. Luckily, I have a few tricks up my sleeve to make this part fun.
Once on the trail I’m overwhelmed by the amount of beaver presence. Numerous wet trails branching off either side, leading straight into the water. They form miniature darkened tunnels through the underbrush, with the dried winter vegetation and sticks forming circular archways. They are reminiscent of fantasy books my parents read to me as a kid. I wouldn’t be surprised if a hobbit crawled out of one, or if peering in- crouched on all fours- I might find a gathering of fairies twirling about. I’ve always enjoyed letting my mind wander, for one memory to lead into another until you realize you’re in a public place and you should probably snap out of it! As I was saying- this busy beaver has created multiple access points for a quick retreat and convenience for food collection. He’s welcome to go about his business as usual, I’m just thankful he stopped eating our boardwalk!
Continuing forward I mentally catalog the new plants that appeared this week. The Skunk Cabbage is coming out in full-force; with the smell recognized first, and the plant second. Leaning down for a closer look at the bright yellow flower (spadix + spathe) the pungent odor is unmistakable. The leaves are so large and waxy to the touch- it’s no wonder the local Native tribes found so many uses for them. The hundreds of water-lilies have unfurled their leaves and the familiar pads appear to be floating on the lake surface. The Salmonberry has a few flowers upon it’s stem- vibrant purple against the colorless scene on this gray day. Within the next few weeks many more flowers will follow suite, from the same plant and from many other species along the way. Now it’s just a waiting game- a daily check to see who has arrived to add life to this ecosystem- to sustain the succession for years to come.
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