THIS WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN! An Unlikely Duo Goes Head-to-Head

The weather works in mysterious ways. Oregon is certainly in no shape for me to be rooting against a much-needed bout of rain, but with ambitious camping plans we booked for this weekend our fingers were crossed that the worst of it would hold off just a little bit longer. It was not to be; Oregon's southern coast will have to wait. We tried to find a last-minute alternative, but between the storms to the west of us, and the wildfires to the east, we decided it best to sit tight. The skies mostly cleared up in the afternoon, so we were able to fit our shorebirding in after all -- just much closer to home.

Shorebird flock - Western and Pectoral Sandpipers

The sweet lovers' embrace of a couple of star-crossed orthopterans

Damselfly glamour shot

We spent parts of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday at Ankeny NWR reveling in migrant Pectoral Sandpipers, Semipalmated Plovers, and assorted peeps. Practically everything else we tried to turn into a Baird's Sandpiper, but we just couldn't make the name fit convincingly. The real highlight of the weekend, though, was a collaboration between two birds you'd never imagine seeing together, even while they share a home.

Semipalmated Plover

Pectoral and Western Sandpipers

Pectoral Sandpiper

I was crouched down inspecting a bug, when I noticed a form out on a muddy patch of shoreline that hadn't been there a minute earlier. "Rail… rail… Virginia Rail" I sputtered. We manage to (rarely) see these from time to time, but like any rail, they're more often heard than seen, and this was the most open we've caught one yet. A few seconds later and it was joined by another super secretive species, a Sora.

It's uncommon enough to see one of these skulkers out from behind their usual dense cover, but to see both side by side is practically unfathomable, like bigfoot sidling up to a unicorn. The two lingered together for nearly a minute, picking at the substrate like old friends. The Sora left first, and then came back shortly after for an encore. For all I know this was one in a long series of regular inter-rail check-ins, but truly it seemed like something that will NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. In fact, I did hear from one researcher on Twitter who studies rails, and she told me that she's never seen a Sora commingle with a Virginia Rail. So there you go.

Into the Mountains, Part 2

Let us return now to the Labor Day camping excursion we took in the mountains (see Part 1 here). The great birds we had in passing through Sisters each way were but the appetizer and dessert for an epic trip. While we would have more great birds throughout the long weekend, it was the unforgettable scenery that made for some truly mind-blowing moments. Among our destinations would be two of the Seven Wonders of Oregon. Among our oft-repeated refrains would be “I can’t believe this is in Oregon.”

We made camp at Prineville Reservoir State Park in the early evening, with enough sunlight left for us to do a bit of exploring. It was around the reservoir that we picked up a lifer lagomorph: about a dozen Black-tailed Jackrabbits spread out along the edge of a clearing. Huge animals, compared with their cuddly cousins the cottontails. And fast. Later, a group of them would pass in an instant through the campground, at but a fraction of the top speed (30-35 mph).

Black-tailed Jackrabbit

The next morning we slipped out early to start on the long drive to John Day Fossil Beds National Monument. John Day has three units, spread far apart from one another, and each with its own unique natural attractions. It was to see the Painted Hills that we planned our holiday around this region of the state, checking off one of the 7 Wonders in the process. Although we’d seen a whole lot of landscape this year during our roadtrip across the country, there’s just nothing that compares to the bizarre beauty of the Painted Hills. 

Red and gold clays layered on top of one another, with flecks of black thrown in for good measure. It’s an extraterrestrial-looking sight. “I can’t believe this is in Oregon,” we’d say for the hundredth time. We could barely keep in mind that it was on Planet Earth. It was here, too, that we found a striking female Snakeweed Grasshopper, one of the coolest, most boldly patterned grasshoppers we’ve seen anywhere.

Snakeweed Grasshopper

From here we passed on to another of John Day’s units: Sheep Rock. While there wasn’t much birding to do at the Painted Hills, we set ourselves a couple of target species at Sheep Rock, being in range for both Rock and Canyon Wrens. The view here wasn’t colorful like at the Painted Hills, but it was extraordinary nonetheless, and decidedly eerie. The hike through the steep greenish-blue claystone gave the impression of wandering through the Forbidden Zone, stranded on the Planet of the Apes.

Along the Blue Basin trail was some tricky uphill climbing. To get as high up as we managed was worth it just for the views, although it was pretty quiet by that time in the afternoon. After unsuccessfully straining to identify a distant eagle we climbed back down to try a more level path, right through the claystone formations. A hyperactive Rock Wren bobbed and fed and jumped around near a burrow entrance, dug or molded into the clay. It seemed such a desolate place to make a living, but there are much worse, to be sure.

On the drive back to Prineville, just a few miles outside of the campsite, a flash of sky blue alongside the road convinced me to pull over. We found ourselves at the entrance to an RV park of all places, where had had some of the best birds of the day. A flurry of Mountain Bluebirds mixed in with equal numbers of Cassin’s Finches represented some damn fine mountain birding, which is precisely what we'd wanted. 

Mountain Bluebird

Common Ravens were much more common in the mountains than they are west of the Cascades

These Ravens were not on speaking terms

We left nice and early the next morning, but not before we spotted another Rock Wren on the way out of the campground. This one was much more cooperative than the one at John Day, but like the one a day earlier, mostly kept near the entrance to a little hideaway in the rocks. 

Rock Wren

Lark Sparrow

And in keeping with the rock theme of the post, we made one last stop before returning to Sisters, where we began and ended our adventure. Smith Rock State Park was the second of the great Wonders of Oregon this trip. Renowned as a rock-climbing playground for adrenaline junkies, it also turns up White-throated Swifts (as it did for us), Black-billed Magpies, and some of the most acrobatic Canada Geese we've ever seen -- the place inspires daredevilry in the even most unlikely creatures. 

Black-billed Magpie

Magpies

Smith Rock State Park

Wherever we looked we would find people dotted along the tops of all these massive rock formations, having pulled themselves up by means entirely beyond my understanding. Our understanding was further stretched when we encountered our first lizard since moving here ("I can't believe this is in Oregon"). West of the Cascades, where we live, it's a very, very different place from the desert country we found ourselves in now, and lizards were just not on our radar. 

Western Fence Lizard?

One final critter I'll mention is a would-be hitchhiker that tried to abscond in Maureen's hat. She had it in her hands for a minute and a tiger moth flew in. Tiger moths are a beautiful group, and I've been wanting to see one since I started my moth kick last year. What I didn't realize is how difficult the group can be to identify: I posted this one on BugGuide.net for ID help three different species were suggested.

Grammia sp.

This trip gave us a sense for how much bigger Oregon is than you might suspect from looking at a map. There's more to see and do here than we even guessed than when we first moved out here, and this adventure over the mountains has got us wondering what we'll find the next time we go exploring!

Grasshoppers!

With all due respect to you Lepidoptera- and Coleoptera-lovers out there, no insect delights me quite like a grasshopper. Firstly, the name says it all. Hopping is adorable, and as a species, we're irresistibly drawn to everything from rabbits, to kangaroos, to Seussian tales. As a mode of transportation it's far preferable to slithering, slinking, shuffling, and whatever it is slugs do. Why pogo sticks aren't more popular I don't think I'll ever understand. Ditto with potato sack races (Olympic Committee, are you reading this?).

Olive-green Swamp Grasshopper

Communing with an Olive-green Swamp Grasshopper

It's also a highly contagious behavior. Have you ever tried to catch a grasshopper? The only way to do it is to spring up and down as you chase after one. It's like you have to become the grasshopper in order to catch it. Maybe that's why I'm so fond of them, having cultivated an understanding with them through imitation. Well, that part is B.S., but I do envy them for their tremendous leaping ability and have no compunction about bounding after them no matter how silly I happen to look.

Obscure Birdwing Grasshopper

Southern Greenstriped Grasshopper

I will admit, however, that I'm a handsy naturalist. I hardly ever pass up the opportunity to study something up close, provided I can do it without risking the health of myself, the habitat, or the object itself. And looking through our recent photos, I seem to have a particular fascination with grasshoppers. Can you blame me -- they're just crazy-looking!

Melanoplus sp.

Look at this fella, for instance. The Eastern Lubber Grasshopper (Romalea guttata) is enormous (by grasshopper standards), sporting 90's-era neons of pink, yellow, and orange, and covered in armor. It also has a number of defense mechanisms, such as the ability to produce a noxious, foamy spray when it feels threatened (we were fast friends, though, so he didn't even think of using it on me). The lubber is master of his grassy domain by any standard.

Eastern Lubber Grasshopper

The large size of grasshoppers, and the relative ease (or at least fun) of taking them in the hand, make them a great study. I haven't begun a life list for them yet, but I think I may, as we get to know Savannah better, and as I better learn to identify local varieties. But you can bet that I'll be doing a good amount of hopping until then.