Water Water, WA

The plan was simple: we would head up to Portland for the day and kick around Multnomah County for a while. Even though we're up there practically every other weekend (and I work up there), our county list is pitiful and we were finally going to do something about it.

Ruby-crowned Kinglet

We decided on Smith and Bybee Wetlands, where we were sure to pick up waterfowl, and where the trails around the lakes make for a pleasant stroll. Though the water level was higher than during our previous visit, and there wasn't quite as much activity as we'd hoped, we were greeted by a pair of Varied Thrushes just as soon as we got started. Later, we chanced upon four immature Bald Eagles -- one of whom had nabbed a fish out of the lake, only to be pursued over the treeline by three less enterprising siblings. But for us the highlight of the morning wasn't a bird at all.

Bald Eagles

Bewick's Wren

Maureen and I had had salamanders on the mind, as the previous weekend we'd attended a field trip to McDonald Forest with high hopes of finding assorted salamanders and newts. We'd braved the rain and cold thinking we might glimpse some new amphibians and were sorry when none had turned up. Today, though, luck was on our side. Maureen turned over a couple of logs, and under the second was the most cooperative Long-toed Salamander one could ask for. We gawked and admired for several minutes, and wrangled passers-by to share in our find. The salamander took it all in stride, finally disappearing into the loose soil only after everyone had had a chance to appreciate him.

Long-toed Salamander

In deciding where to go next, Maureen noticed a big green patch on Google Maps: "Oh, but it's in Washington." In our 9 months of living here, through all of our exploring, we've somehow never ventured across the border to our northern neighbor, literally on the other side of the river from Portland. Today we decided that Ridgefield NWR was worth the trip (bonus: every bird's a new state bird!). The refuge consists of a 4.2 mile driving trail through some pretty awesome wetlands. Unlike other driving trails we've been on, people are positively forbidden to leave their cars, except at a single photo blind mid-way through.

Red-winged Blackbird

Great Blue Heron

Northern Harrier

Ducks and swans were everywhere. There were also more nutria per acre than anyplace I've seen. Much of the action took place right beside the road, which was fortunate, since there was nowhere else to go. Fortunate for us, that is, though not for one frog, who was set to make a meal fit for an egret. This fairly robust and wily frog didn't make it easy for the Great Egret to put it down: the egret tossed it a little, maneuvered it, dunked it back in the water, and started the whole process over again. The dunking seemed like the cruelest part of all, like he just wanted to give the frog a false hope of escape. It took a couple of minutes before the frog was positioned just right, and that was the last anyone will see of it.

Tundra Swans

Nutria

Great Egret hanging a most unfortunate frog out to dry

In a happier context, you might think the frog was just hitching a ride from his buddy

At the photo blind pit stop, a young Red-tailed Hawk perched over the parking lot was the star attraction for the half-a-dozen or so other photographers stretching their legs. The hawk was great, but to be honest I was more excited for us to find a much smaller subject, since I was itching to use the macro attachment for my iPhone. We didn't know what we were looking at at the time, but the insects we found were a diurnal type of firefly. Unlike it's beloved cousins, members of this particular group aren't bioluminescent at all, using chemical signaling to communicate instead.

Red-tailed Hawk

Firefly, probably Ellychnia hatchi

We've been paying more attention to lichens lately (Xanthoria sp.?)

And let's not forget the fungi...

The benefit of having everyone stay in their cars in a wetland is, of course, that the waterfowl don't flush nearly as easily as they would from pedestrians. This gave us an opportunity for some great looks at birds we're accustomed to seeing from farther away. This was especially true of a few individuals who preferred the channels alongside the road, rather than out in the open water: a sharp-looking Hooded Merganser, a pair of Gadwall, and a couple of Northern Shovelers dancing their feeding tango. I always love watching Shovelers feed, swimming around and around each other, stirring up prey in the vortex.

Hooded Merganser

Gadwall -- the most worried-looking of the ducks

Female Gadwall

Northern Shoveler

As we drove along one of the channels checking for waterfowl, Maureen spotted an American Bittern. Sort of. It wasn't the bird that caught her eye at first, but its reflection. The bittern was so perfectly camouflaged that it took her a few moments to find it among the reeds. Even though must have been staring right at it, I don't think I saw it until it started to move. It was a nice surprise encounter to end an impromptu trip to a new state. Certainly Washington state must have a lot more surprises in store for us, provided we remember to cross the border from time to time.

What did you see first: the bird or the reflection?

American Bittern

Googly eyes

Finding Some of Everything at Ankeny NWR

Everyone should live this close to a National Wildlife Refuge. From our apartment in south Salem, we’re a mere 8 minutes’ drive from Ankeny NWR, one of the crown jewels of the Willamette Valley National Wildlife Complex, and a top spot for wintering waterfowl. We arrived in Oregon too late for wintering birds, but there are have been good numbers of Canada and Cackling Geese, Cinnamon Teal, and Ruddy and Ring-necked Ducks to enjoy into the summer. The Ruddy Ducks, in particular, are looking mighty handsome and we’ve been able to watch males perform their bizarre mating display, bouncing their bills off of their chests with increasing rapidity.

Cackling Geese

Ruddy Duck

Black-headed Grosbeak

I don't have any idea what this is, but it's incredible

There's an emu on the farm across from one of the main trails at Ankeny.
I wouldn't be terribly surprised if somebody tried to eBird it.

Right in the parking lot, Maureen spotted a gorgeous pink and gray moth. It was super tame, crawling over the ground right in front of us without flushing. Maureen was so taken with it that she almost would have preferred it’s colors to the navy and coral she chose as our wedding colors! It was a Cinnabar Moth, which isn’t native, but was introduced intentionally to help combat invasive ragwort, its host plant. Once we got started on the trail, we started noticing golden beetles clustered together on the tops of certain plants. Given that we’d just seen a Cinnabar Moth, I thought they could have been Ragwort Flea Beetles — another introduced species that’s also partial to ragwort, which happens to be a metallic gold — but now I'm leaning toward some kind of leaf beetle in the Chrysolina genus.

Cinnabar Moth

Chrysolina sp.

Recently, I was taking a stroll around our neighborhood and stumbled across a huge number of ragwort plants, each one totally covered in Cinnabar Moth caterpillars. Instead of the pink and gray of the adults, the caterpillars wear a striking orange and black striped pattern. With all of these Cinnabars consuming the ragwort, I’m surprised there’s still any ragwort left. If/when it is finally eradicated, I wonder what happens to the moths? The idea of introducing a species to help fight another introduced species is amusing and absurd, and I can’t help but think of an episode of The Simpsons: Bart cares for a pair of Bolivian Tree Lizards that eventually escape and decimate the Springfield’s pigeon population. To address the lizard problem, Skinner proposes “unleash wave after wave of Chinese needle snakes”.

Lisa: But aren’t the snakes even worse?
Skinner: Yes, but we’re prepared for that. We’ve lined up a fabulous type of gorilla that thrives on snake meat.
Lisa: But then we’re stuck with gorillas!
Skinner: No, that’s the beautiful part. When wintertime rolls around, the gorillas simply freeze to death.

An army of Cinnabar Moth caterpillars

Our other exciting Lep. find of the day was a beautiful Lorquin’s Admiral. We haven’t been chasing down West coast butterflies with quite the same gusto as we have the birds, but this was one that caught our attention. It makes me wonder what else we might have been missing while butterflies flit about in our periphery. We might just have to work on building up our Oregon butterfly list a bit.

Lorquin's Admiral

We also had some interesting Odes that morning. The damselflies were in fine form, mating every which way we looked. Actually, I shouldn’t speculate on whether they were in fine form or not because damselfly sex doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. As I understand it, below, the male’s terminal appendages (cerci and paraprocts) are clasped onto the female’s prothorax, which helps them determine whether they’re the same species or not. This step precedes copulation. Either that or he’s a zombie damselfly, vacuuming out her brains in an futile attempt to sate his unquenchable, ceaseless hunger for damselfly brains. We also had a nice look at some Eight-spotted Skimmers.

Zombie damselfly courtship

Spreadwing damselfly (Lestes sp.)

Female Eight-spotted Skimmer

Male Eight-spotted Skimmer

During our last trip to Ankeny we also found a motherlode of Pacific Tree Frogs. These little guys were all huddled together along blades of tall grasses, as well as dodging and diving around our feet while we walked the trails. Some groups preferred to take refuge in the wider leaves of blackberry plants (which are everywhere, and should be ripe in another a couple of weeks!). The frogs show astonishing diversity in color and pattern, but they all share dark striping that runs from their noses, through their eyes, and down their flanks.

Along the same trail as where we found the frogs, we came across a Northern Flicker doing some excavating. I rather prefer the bright red mustaches of these fellows to the black mustaches of the Yellow-shafted Flickers back East, but this is only quibbling: any bird unabashedly sporting statement-making facial hair has my respect (here's looking at you, Black-throated Sparrow).

The past several times we’ve gone there’s been a 2nd-year Bald Eagle perched up in a snag, just off the path. He stayed put for good, long stretches, giving us ample time to admire and photograph him, before he would take off over the water to terrify the ducks and geese.

2nd-year Bald Eagle

The highlight of our Ankeny birding, though, was an epic back-and-forth battle supreme between a female Tree Swallow and the Cliff Swallow whose nest she was trying to usurp. A dozen or so Cliff Swallow nests were built underneath the roof of the observation gazebo, and swallows were flying in and out almost continuously, alternately hunting and homemaking. One nest in particular was intensely coveted by an interloping Tree Swallow, who tried repeatedly to annex these other birds’ territory. We watched as, time and time again, the Cliff ejected the female Tree Swallow by force. The Tree clung on for dear life, despite being relentlessly bitten in the face and legs. Somehow, inevitably, she would shove herself back inside again. We watched this brutal war of attrition for nearly ten minutes, but it still wasn’t long enough to see the outcome. We were able to record some of the action, though:

Cliff Swallow in a Cliff Swallow nest

Tree Swallow in a Cliff Swallow nest

This Tree Swallow asserts his dominance by issuing a furious bellow. No Cliff Swallow will ever feel safe as long as this rage-machine and his brutish kin patrol the otherwise placid shores of Ankeny. Aye, this may be a designated NWR, but the designation serves merely as a bitter and ironic reminder there can be no refuge for weary Cliff Swallows.