Return to Salt Creek Falls



The weather in the Northwest turned warmer and drier than usual so another trip to the mountains to see how the snow looked was called for. A comparison of the state of the Salt Creek Falls looked interesting. Snowshoes were still de rigueur but the snow base had dropped markedly. The melt is well under way with the snow surface having an icy cap and untrod areas make for easier walking.


The falls are now clear of ice and are spectacular in full flow. Strangely, when looking at the falls from the top, the near three hundred foot drop doesn’t look as awe inspiring as I was expecting.


Lookdown the valley and the full drop can be appreciated as you watch the raging water rush down the serpentine, steep and narrow canyon. The lack of snow is clear in this view with just a few patches remaining.

A sidetrack on the return takes us towards Diamond Creek Falls, which is named for John Diamond of Coburg, who also gave his name to Diamond peak. Unfortunately there are no diamonds in the creek save for the ephemeral ones due to sunlight refracting through water droplets.


The bridge over the creek leading to Salt Creek Falls still has a thick carpet of snow although the edges are melting. Whilst organizing my camera, the fellow member of the expedition dropped my hiking pole into the water. We had to rush to catch up with it as the cork handhold bobbed along in the turbulent water until it reached a bend where the torrent quieted and the pole hit a snag. A few minutes of excitement over the icy water and it was returned to it proper place. Around the next bend and it would have been over the falls. Retrieving it from the canyon at the bottom would have been a tad tedious. 

Nowhere to Hide



The weather has turned dry and pond level has dropped by about a foot and all is still peaceful and the cloudiness of the water is reducing. Our heron is back in business, stalking the denizens of the shallows. Beautifully camouflaged amongst the tree branches and twigs, she treads slowly and gently along the edge of the water, a study in concentration, her focus is lunch.


For the first time in a long while, a nutria swims into view. He sees me and stops paddling, but poses for a snapshot while refusing to smile or even say ‘cheese’. An immigrant from South America, where it is called a coypu, it isn’t very popular in most places where it has taken up residence. Even the fact that it has nice fur and that its meat is low in Cholesterol hasn’t lifted it from nuisance status to game worth hunting.

Getting top billing today for its fifteen minutes of fame is the Egyptian jackal who had us all taken in with the idea that it was a relative of the Golden Jackal. His genes have caught him in his subterfuge. He is in fact related to the grey wolf; a much less fancy image. With the cost of DNA analysis falling like a stone in the pond, the ripples will be far-reaching. Soon we will have our genome on our passports, our driving licenses, and probably most important of all for our future wellbeing, our Facebook ™ page. 

A Bats Eye View of the Pitcher


My observation of an Oregon Grape coming into flower early in a sheltered spot behind a public toilet pales beside those made by Dr. Grafe whilst working in Borneo.

Last year, Drs. Clarke and Moran of Monash and Royal Roads University respectively, observed that the largest pitcher plant (N.rajah) was set up as a complete restaurant facility for tree shrews. It serves nectar to the hungry shrews and while there the diners make use of the large pitcher as a bathroom facility. N.rajah is content to be paid in nitrogen rich deposits, which they conveniently re-cycle. Dr. Grafe was interested in a different pitcher plant, N.rafflesiana elongata, which has an entirely different shape being much longer than N.rajah. This one doesn’t serve a breakfast of nectar but does provide a bedroom for wooly bats, with en suite facilities of course. Again payment of the daily rate is in the same currency. The bats however get a bonus for staying. The plant takes care of some of the parasites living in the bats fur. No fear of bed bugs if your bed is carnivorous.

Another interesting report in the latest BBC News e-zine was on the chirality of life. If we synthesize the amino acids that make up DNA, we have an equal mixture of right and left hand twists. Are bodies are very picky and will only accept the left-handed forms. Now roaring around the cosmos are meteorites with the ingredients for the amino acids mixed in a frozen form, which react under the influence of ultra violet light that has been circularly polarized. This results in a small preponderance of the left-handed molecules. However, I wouldn’t wish to jump to the extraterrestrial conclusion that ‘Men are from Mars & Women are from Venus’.

Late Latte


It is another beautiful day with blue skies and the temperature rushing into the 50s. I am taking my morning coffee later that usual today and I notice that the dog walkers are different. Maybe it’s due the weather, but they are predominantly male – the walkers that is, not the animals of the canine persuasion. The female walkers that I normally encounter usually smile and say ‘Hi’ but not today. The dogs universally rush up to give my hand a welcoming lick but not so the guys on the other end of the leashes who won’t even make eye contact let alone lick my hand!



The ponds have risen by at least another six inches judging from the guards around recently planted saplings, which have now almost, disappear under the surface. Small islands are getting even smaller and the nesting sites are becoming sought after waterfront properties.



The geese have settled to a more sedate life and have come to a tentative agreement with the cormorants on the two-bird log. At least so it seems as there is a happy mixed occupancy this morning. It is to be hoped for that this avian detente will outlast the current spell of nice weather that is lulling us into a false sense of spring. I note that an Oregon Grape has a plethora of buds that are showing bright yellow. This is much too early, even if it is in a sheltered position behind the 'Portapotty'.

Literary Feast


Within Scottish enclaves around the globe there will be the traditional Burn’s Night celebration of the poet with the eating of haggis along with tatties and neeps and the drinking of good Scotch. With luck, there will be a piper to provide the music. The authentic beast is on the banned list for importation into the US, so we will have to make do with a pale imitation. Somehow a dish of lamb sausage with potatoes and rutabagas, eaten whilst a CD of the Band of the Scot’s Guards is in full flow, doesn’t evoke pictures of the highlands and the lochs even if the good Scotch is authentic and in liberal supply.

While Scotland is in the grip of its literary celebration, the good citizens of South Wales are getting organized and planning for a Spring rush of lustful toads in April. They are putting up road signs to warn passing motorists. I do hope that won’t result in motorists trying to avert their eyes. The locals are working out a rota where volunteers will go out with buckets to help the toads across the roads, but it can’t be a 24/7 effort so some toads will be rushing off to give their all for nothing. In mid-Wales they built toad-tunnels for last years rush and these were a considerable success. Why not in south Wales? Perhaps the economic crunch would mean that they would have to be toll tunnels for Mr.Tod.

Toads rushing around over south Wales looking for love are making epic journeys, but none are quite as remarkable as that reported for a female polar bear in the Beaufort Sea (http://news.bbc.co.uk/earth/hi/earth_news/newsid_9369000/9369317.stm). She swam for nine days looking for a suitable dining establishment. To cover 460 miles, non-stop in very cold water, is a remarkable feat. Her radio collar didn’t tell her followers if she had managed to pick up a snack on the way or what she thought of the new ice flow, though. Hopefully the Ringed Seals were plump.

Its Monday Again


A promise of blue sky in the west provides a bouncy feel to the morning. The mood has clearly spread to the ponds. A large group of geese are displaying their version of fratboy behavior, with a deal of splashing, preening and honking going on. A group of five ducks had taken over the two-bird log with no sign of its cormorant guardians anywhere. A playful goose tries to join them, but finds himself alone. Clearly that’s no fun, so he launches himself into the air. With no runway, he blows it and splashes and honks for a few yards before he can retract his undercarriage. 

On my return from the coffee pot I see that he has managed to find a friend and they have taken up residence on the log. Meanwhile one of the cormorants on the three-bird log has taken to the water and is circling around making the geese back off. This is clearly not a log that is up for grabs!

There are two herons at the ponds today, both hunched up and scraggly with their long neck feathers flapping in the light breeze. The ponds are still too cloudy for easy fishing.

With the jockeying for real estate on the ponds increasing as nesting time comes rushing to meet us, I wonder if the birds should take note of Dr. Sergio’s study from the Donana Biological Station in Spain. He has been studying black kites and their housekeeping habits. They build rather nice looking nests of twig and moss but then litter it up with our litter. Strips of white plastic bags are a favorite, but bits of paper or cloth will do in a pinch. Other black kites steer away from becoming neighbors rather like most of us are reluctant to move in next to a yard decorated with rusty old cars and dead kitchen appliances.  ‘Don’t Mess with Bubba’ is a message that seems to work in the avian world too.

A Fair Day in January


The Lane County Home and Garden Show had an encouraging emphasis of eco-friendliness and sustainability about the exhibits, along with a nice selection of arts and crafts. Not being in the market for home improvements, the best I could do was to purchase a pair of Alpaca-wool socks after communing with the delightful creature in today’s picture. 

Alpacas and Vicunas score very high on the cute scale. I would estimate at least a 5-Oooh rating. However, neither can quite hit the high of grey seal pups though. Those big winsome eyes are always  winner, and then that white furry coat settles it for most of us.

A heart-warming story this week was the report of three young seal pups from the Farne Islands on the northwest coast of England who went on a vacation to the Netherlands. With one only three weeks old, this seems rather precocious if not a tad rash. The trip was 350 miles and the North Sea in winter can be a little harsh even if you can dodge the constant stream of ships wandering up and down this nautical freeway. However go they did and no sooner were they sunbathing on the beaches of the Netherlands than they were sent home. Freedom of movement within the EU may have some age limitations attached or maybe they just needed their parents seal of approval.