Summer
It’s summer, and the vernal pools are drying,
hidden by tall grasses going to seed.
Spring’s night and day chorus of frogs has faded;
tadpoles grown and hopped away.
I stood at Meadowlark Prairie on the last day of May.
Canada geese came and went
with loud announcements of arrivals and departures.
A red-winged blackbird sang,
liquid notes slipping through the willows.
Families on bikes stopped to look out
over the wetlands.
A young girl left her pink coat on the bench,
coming back for it in response to my call.
A great blue heron stalked below the bridge
carefully moving one stilt-like leg at a time--slowly, slowly.
Swiftly the plumed head darted out
and came back with a crawfish crosswise in its bill.
I thought I could hear the crunching of sturdy exoskeleton
when the bird moved the struggling creature sideways,
as if flattening an ear of corn.
With a toss, the crawfish was turned, then gulped and
moved down that long, slender neck,
the way a snake swallows a toad.
The heron went on to repeat
this precise performance three more times.
Although I have only once seen the elusive bittern,
stretching its neck upward,
pretending to be stalks of grass,
there is something deeply mysterious beneath the feathered facade
of its more common cousin.
A great blue carries secrets of past and future,
from Mt. Mazama’s eruption and the settling of volcanic ash
into the clay that lies beneath its feet
to whatever may lie ahead,
and I have no doubt
that this bird, this essence of wetlands,
becomes a spirit after dark,
moving across the wet prairie--
an unseen shadow
whose silent passage is marked only by the bending grasses.
The vernal pools are drying.

Wetland Wander to the BLM See-sil Area

Fifteen explorers met at the parking lot at the end of Royal Avenue May 14th to explore the BLM's See-sil area. Before we even left the parking lot we were treated to the appearance of an American Bittern, a shy bird more often heard than seen. The tall, yellow-legged bird went into its "oh, I'm just some stalks of grass" appearance, stretching its head high and pointing its beak upward, but soon walked cautiously along the edge of the road next to a swampy area, then disappeared over the bank. The arrival of a car startled the bird and it flew. Also at the parking lot was a flock of bright yellow goldfinches, one minute posing on the fence in a row, the next busily gathering seeds in the tall grasses.

We walked down the road a short distance and then out into the fields where the City of Eugene's Restoration Ecologist, Emily Steele, pointed out a variety of native plants including popcorn flowers, buttercups, disappointing buttercups (very tiny flowers on a big plant), and camus, which was nearly past. 

Near the edge of the field we had a great opportunity to view and compare the Oregon White Oak and some nearby black oaks. We were awestruck by one particularly large white oak with  massive lower branches. We also viewed an area where the oaks were actually growing too densely so some have been removed in a habitat restoration effort. This will allow allow the remaining oaks a chance to grow more normally. 

Birds seen on the trip included the bittern, goldfinches, red-tailed hawk, Savannah sparrow, tree swallows (there are bird houses for them), and a meadowlark. There were the classic signs of acorn woodpeckers (a large dead branch with holes in it and an occasional acorn still plugged into the holes) but we didn't see any of the birds. Near a row of blackberries and other shrubs, at least three rabbits (who knows with rabbits!) ran quickly from grass to shrub hideaways. And as we arrived back at the parking area two white pelicans were soaring above us on rising thermals.