We were awarded Best Bird of the Century, Possibly Ever.
The rest of the banding day was fairly
uneventful. On our last net run, as soon as we ascertained that nobody had any
birds, we turned right back around and closed down the nets. That done, we drew
sticks on who got to stay behind and start tallying the banding data and
recording end-of-day weather data. The rest of us headed back out to take down
the poles, pull out the supporting rebar, wind up all the rope, and carry it
all back to the banding station. This process was hot and tiring, especially
since we were well into the afternoon at this point. We lugged everything back
to the station and documented any broken connectors and frayed rope that would
need to be replaced the next year. Once we had hauled everything back to the
car (this took several trips, even with seven of us), we were all very ready
for naps, showers, and food. And beer.
To our very great and grumbling dismay,
we were not allowed to nap. We were told, however, that if we were good little
kiddies and paid attention to the lecture that afternoon, the biologists would
buy the beer to go with dinner. This perked us up a bit… who says no to free
beer?
The lecture was about how to use the
Pyle Guide. It’s an excellent resource for banders, but only if you know the
language. We went over the various codes used in the charts, as well as the
fact that seemingly-vague modifiers like ‘sometimes’, ‘rarely’, and ‘usually’
actually have percentages behind them. Also, ‘ish’ was used frequently.
‘White-ish, gray-ish, or black-ish.’ What? Doesn’t that pretty much cover
everything? Why yes. Yes it does. Welcome to bird banding. We decided that the
Pyle Guide could also be used for stargazing, palm-reading, and yoga.
After the lecture, we looked over the
information about the various locations: weather, terrain, common species,
banding counts from previous years, etc. Two of the sites were coastal and
hilly and full of old-growth forests, three were tucked in valleys in the
Cascades and the sites themselves were mostly flat, but high elevation pushed
the breeding season back and they tended to be slower, and one was just east of
the Cascade crest and was flat-ish, more scrub-y, and tended to be pretty busy.
After careful consideration (i.e. “Ooo that one looks pretty!”), we turned in
first, second, and third choices to Ted and Tim, a.k.a. the Masters of Destiny.
They deliberated for an hour, through dinner, and then for another hour after
that. Pete (one of the larger of the boys) was tasked with guarding a 30-foot
radius around their table and given permission to maim if necessary. He found a
rather substantial stick, so we all stayed out of range.
Once they’d finished, they gathered us
all together and started handing out assignments without ceremony. They must
have known that the peasants were on the verge of revolt. Anna and I were
assigned to Wenatchee National Forest, the busy site east of the Cascades. This
might not actually have been a compliment to my skills, but I decided to take
it as such. Beer was distributed, a fire was made, and we began to plan for the
mass exodus the following morning. I had a beer (actually a Mike’s Hard
Lemonade because I still thought beer tasted like urine) and spent an hour
being mildly successful at socializing. They say alcohol is ‘liquid courage’…
for me, it’s ‘liquid social skills’. It helps me talk and laugh and make eye
contact and all those other little things that normal humans do when in each
other’s company. The ‘I’m going to college in Alaska’ always helps… instant
conversation topic and source of amusing anecdotes. Like that time my roommates
dragged me out of the shower because there was a yearling moose licking salt
off of our front porch. That one’s always fun. Or that time that Chaia and I
stood in the river for an hour in chest-waders, t-shirts, and temperature
sensors. In November (it was 5 below outside and there was ice floating by).
For science. And we got an ‘A’ on the paper, damnit.
We all dispersed to our sleeping bags
when the evening started to get cold and breezy. We would have a lazy breakfast
around 9 and then pack the various vehicles with gear and belongings and then
go our separate ways after lunch.
16
May: Grants Pass, OR; Blue River, OR
Waking up the next morning to sunshine
and the smell of bacon was glorious. I don’t
care what kind of health nut you think you are, bacon makes everything better.
So does waking up after sunrise.
We made a fire to stave off the morning
chill and drank our respective caffeinated beverages while the bacon and toast
finished cooking. We sent Jeff to rouse the two boys who’d overindulged the
previous night and into whose tents the smell of bacon and coffee hadn’t yet
penetrated. There were grunts and then a smack and several yells and then some
ominous rustling. This was followed by a very un-masculine scream as poor Jeff
was pulled into the tent and possibly sat upon, if the muffled “Get. Off!” was
anything to go by. “And put some goddamned pants on!” quickly followed in a
less muffled but much more annoyed voice. When the bleary-eyed and slightly
hung-over boys were finally extricated from their tents (drug by a highly
irritated Jeff), the bacon and a second round of coffee was served up.
Our bacon was of the pepper-crusted,
thick-cut, bought from the local organic market variety. It came from a pig who
most likely died within a 50-mile radius and probably had a name and a Twitter
feed. It was some amazing bacon.
As said amazing bacon was consumed, the
conversation deteriorated quickly into bird species one-up-manship and wish
lists… because we were huge flaming nerds. Laura really wanted to catch a
Pileated Woodpecker (which were gigantic and gorgeous) and was lamenting that
her location was unlikely to cough one up. Siuslaw National forest was a bit
too wet, and dead trees in coastal forests tent not to stay upright long enough
for large woodpeckers to make use of them. The Pileated Woodpeckers were there,
just not in the numbers you’d find in a drier, more inland forest. Anna and
Leslie both agreed that they wanted a Northern Saw-Whet Owl, and then waxed
poetical about its ridiculous level of cuteness. Sara hadn’t been in the bird
business long enough to know what the besotted idiots were talking about, but
as soon as someone produced a field guide, she was all for getting’ some of that. Hearing the tiny Canadian girl try
to imitate a large southern black woman was amusing to say the least. The fact
that she mostly succeeded was nothing short of impressive.
After we’d finished and cleaned up
breakfast, we all set about breaking camp. I had only to stuff a few things
back in my bag and take my tent down, since I’d only been there two days.
Everyone else had more to do since they’d spread out a bit during their
two-week residence. Once I was finished, I made myself useful folding tents (my
OCD was much appreciated… miraculously, tents stuff into their sacks easier if
you fold then neatly first) and pulling up stakes. It took another hour or so
before all the personal gear was packed up, and then we divided up and began
loading the banding gear into the various cars that were headed to the
different sites.
Half of us were going south and the
other half north (one group with each biologist). The southern group consisted
of Siuslaw, Winema, and Fremont National Forests, and the northern group (mine)
would hit Willamette, Mount Baker, and Wenatchee National Forests, in general
order of start date and effort required. Some of the higher-elevation locations
would be snowed in for a few more weeks yet and could wait to be set up, and
some of them would require more hiking and carrying of equipment and thus
needed more people. We’d start at one site, set things up, leave the two
interns responsible for it, and move on to the next site… repeat until you run
out of interns. Our northern route would take us first to Willamette National
Forest, in central Oregon, which was first just because it was closest. We’d
then go all the way up to north-central Washington for Mount Baker National
Forest and last, south to my location in Wenatchee National forest in central
Washington. Wenatchee was last because most of the sites were close to the road
and wouldn’t require much effort to set up. This whole process would take about
a week and a half, and then the biologist would travel between the three sets
of interns for the rest of the three-month season, helping and guiding where
they could.
We ate a quick lunch, loaded the final
things into the cars, said our goodbyes and headed out. Our little caravan
headed north on the I-5 until we hit Eugene, where we stopped for groceries,
and then headed west into the mountains. Willamette National Forest is situated
right in the middle of the Oregon Cascades and is home to the Three Sisters, the
spires of Mt. Washington and Three-Fingered Jack, and Mt. Jefferson. All of the
Cascades are volcanic, but South Sister is the only one of Willamette’s peaks
that is still active.
 |
| Mt. Washington, Mt. Jefferson, and the Three Sisters |
 |
| Detail of the Three Sisters |
 |
| Google Maps image of the immediate area, bunkhouse circled in red. |
The two beds went to the boys who’d be
living there, and then as soon as we got inside, there was a mad rush to claim
the two couches. The rest of us staked out comfy-looking spots of carpeted
floor. Sergio had gotten the makings for curry at the store in Eugene so while
he started dinner, the rest of us gathered around the kitchen table and Ted
started explaining how this would go.
Willamette National Forest, as a whole,
was fairly high in elevation and a few of the sites were as high as five or six
thousand feet. Ted explained that there was a good possibility that five of the
six sites would be snowed in and impossible to access. We’d give it a try and,
if that was the case, we’d take the boys with us to Mount Baker to help us set
up there while they waited for the snow to melt. “You’re not being paid to sit
on your butts, boys,” Ted told them with a laugh when Jeff grumbled.
“We’re not really being paid at all,”
Jeff groused under his breath. “And you just want us to carry stuff.”
All four females gave him
wide-eyed innocent looks. “We have no idea what you mean,” Sara said with a bat
of her eyelashes. Jeff just gave an exasperated snort and went back to his
unpacking.
