Tag Archive for 'summer'

What do you do when there are no birds? Seriously, NO birds! Ramblin’ Rose clients had invited me to do a tour for them at their annual campout near the base of Mt. St. Helens tucked deep in the forest along the Cispus River. Lovely area, brimming with bird life a few weeks ago – but deep in the dog days of summer, the birds have dispersed. Even the resident Pacific Wrens are skulking in the shadows rather than filling the forest with their liquid songs.

Undaunted, we arose pre-dawn and ventured to a nearby trail winding through the trees and along the edges of an old beaver pond. Surely the edge and the water combination would produce a few species. As we meandered along the silent trail a hint of panic was welling up in me. Expectations were that I would show them and teach them about birds – but there were none.

But a quick glance around revealed that the rest of nature was still in abundance. Stooping, I picked up a Yellow-spotted Millipede and encouraged everyone to smell the black multi-legged critter curled up in my hand. Immediately everyone in the group was smiling in amazement. Yes, they smell of almonds – a lovely rich scent. But why? The scent is to dissuade and warn any predator of the presence of cyanide and the danger that lurked within. The combination of warning colors and almond scent was working as hundreds of millipedes were safely enjoying the feast of newly-trimmed plants along the trail’s edge.

Next we sorted through several different species of fern for which the Northwest forest is famous. We saw the diminutive and delicate oak fern next to a robust sword fern. I explained separating the lady fern (whose fronds form the shape of a woman) from the bracken fern with its fronds growing near the top of a long singular stem. We paused to enjoy the beauty of maidenhair ferns cascading down a bank. Chosen for their strength and deeply colored beauty, their black glossy stems were used by many native groups in the northwest in basket weaving.

Whoa – what are those fantastic bright red berries? We stopped in awe of the deadly baneberry plant. Less than six of these little berry beauties will kill you. In fact every part of the plant is poisonous – including the leaves, stems, and roots.  Yet despite this fact, natives of the area discovered chewing the leaves and placing the mixture on wounds had healing powers.

Decorating all of the ferns and understory plants were dome web spiders. These amazing creatures spin a canopy of silk in the shape of a dome or upside-down bowl. Once this creation is complete, they position themselves under the ceiling of the web in anticipation of insects who – in their attempts to fly over the dome – collide with the nearly invisible trip wires above the bowl. Crashing into these traps, the insects fall to the roof of the dome to be consumed by a hungry spider.

The group was captivated looking high and low for spider webs, plants to identify and any other natural wonder. Wow, look at the size of that slug! Sure enough, the fantastic banana slug – another Northwest specialty – was sliding up a stump. We all took turns gently touching the slug to experience the magic of a natural anesthesia within the slime; another predator deterrent. We even took the opportunity to practice a little natural medicine of our own. Would the numbing slime actually stop the itch of the incessant mosquito bites? Sure enough, the itching was gone within seconds thanks to the magic of the banana slug slime.

And so it went along the trail.  A chorus frog sat camouflaged on a fern frond, ready to leave the wetlands for the long winter ahead. Red-legged frogs were hopping away to disappear in the forest duff, gently stroking the velvet leaves of the thimbleberry and hastily avoiding the nasty barbs of the devil’s club till finally FITZBEW! A Willow Flycatcher has never sounded so good! Just on the edges of the old wetlands and at the end of our time together we enjoyed the sounds of the flycatcher. Moments later, a Common Yellowthroat graced us with her presence. Now we could finally say that we have had a bird walk.