Sunday, November 20, 2016

Honoring My Mother


Barn Owl



Last May I meant to write a Mother's Day blog post as I did the year before .... but life was busy at the time.  Now, about six months later, I think I'll do something along that line.  To be honest I haven't been in the mood to write a regular blog post.  I was so ready for the election to be over ... and, now, even more disturbed by how unsettled the political world is right now.

We went to the Klamath Basin right after the election.  I hardly drew a thing and wrote few notes.  At least on our recent day-trips I've been burying myself in sketching again and I'm sure the words will soon fly.  It isn't like me to be in a funk.

Danny Gregory, a well known sketch artists who has worked through difficult times has a good comment on the subject in his recent post:

Don't fear change.  Create ways to change with it. 


Maybe we all need to work at little harder at nurturing the changes we want to see happen.  

Bald Eagle

Back to the reason for this blog:


Even though my mother, Fran (Frances) Hamerstrom died eighteen years ago, memories of her influence are alive and well.  Earlier this spring the Wisconsin Historical Society published a book for young readers call "Fran and Frederick Hamerstrom: Wildlife Conservation Pioneers"  -- by Susan Tupper.  

A Baby great horned owl ... like one I raised as a child.

And more recently the October 2016 Raptor Research Foundation held their fifth anniversary convention.  Two young women, Katie Harrington and Rebecca McCabe, organized a panel entitled "Women in Raptor Research: Trailblazers for the Next Generation."  They asked me if I'd be willing to donate a piece of art for each of the panelists.

At first I thought, "Oh my gosh, no!"  But they gave me lots of warning and I made a point of not committing until I knew I'd really get the paintings done.  It was nice to hear there are active raptor researchers who appreciate my mother's influence.  I did seem like a nice way for me to honor my mother and the efforts of these women. 

My mother and her golden eagle

... and for those of you who don't know who my mother was I'll just put a little thumbnail here.  For more look her up and read her books. 

My mother was born a Boston debutant, but she happily gave up the fancy East Coast life for a lifetime of ornithology with my father, Frederick Hamerstrom.  From 1949 until their deaths they lived in a pre-Civil War house without plumbing and studied prairie chickens for the Wisconsin Conservation Department (now called the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources) ... and they did a lot of raptor research in their spare time.  My favorite of my mother's books is, "An Eagle to the Sky." 

A peregrine perched along the Oregon Coast

and here are the rest of the paintings:


another great horned owl

A pygmy owl ... fairly common in western Oregon

Another great horned owl ... do you think they might have a special place in my heart?

Sunday, October 30, 2016

Urps, Burps, and Splashes: Brown Pelicans and Harbor Seals

Bandon Oregon ... at the mouth of the Coquille River:  October 23 

It has been about three weeks since the last hot day of summer, but I’m still savoring every cool, damp day that comes along.  This morning was mostly grey, damp, hardly any wind, and cool, but not cold.  We hiked a path at a coast campground in the morning and now, after lunch, have parked on the jetty at the mouth of the Coquille River, just across from the Bandon Lighthouse (correctly known as the Coquille River Lighthouse).  I jump out of the car full of expectation. The sky is still grey and damp.  A breeze is just starting to kick in.  A quarter of a mile away I see big breakers stumble into an aqua roll as they crash into the shoreline.  Their sound is muffled, blown away by the breeze.  


The pelicans are here!  I see at least a hundred brown pelicans: on the river, perched on rocks and pilings, and a few in the air.   When I look towards the ocean I see half a dozen more trickling their way south along the coast.  These fly by the mouth of the river and head to Table Rock, a big island just off shore.  It is hard to find a pelican along the Oregon coast in the summer time.  They nest far to the south, but, after nesting, many come north for late summer.  Now it is time for them to head back to warmer waters. 
Five pelicans come flying upriver and splash down across from me and next to half a dozen other pelicans.  It is splash and bath time.  Water flies as their monstrous large wings whop the water.  Lots of head dipping and ruffled feathers.   
Three more join.  The pelicans still have most of their breeding colors – their gular patch (throat) is red; lemon yellow glows on their heads; their upper bill is reddish and their lower bill is dark bluish grey.  Beautiful!  Soon the bright colors will dull until the next breeding season.

I realize there is a pattern to what is going on in front of me.  Every so often a small group flies in from the coast and on up the river where they splash down in front of me.  After a through splashing in the relatively fresh water (versus the salt water of the ocean) the pelicans lumber back up into the air.  Brown pelicans are a heavy bird. They are the smallest of the pelicans, even so they weight up to twelve pounds and can have a wingspan of eight feet.  Big!  Their long wings give them the amazing ability to fly just above the surface of either the big waves or the river with only an occasional flap. 

Off goes one, splashing with his webbed feet until he is air born.  But he doesn’t head back to the ocean; instead he flies a little farther upriver joins about a hundred others where low tide has exposed multiple rocks and old pilings. The one I’m watching, along with three buddies, splash down near the rocks and quickly climb onto the rocks.  Time to preen.  Keeping feathers in good shape is an important of part every bird’s day.  The pelicans take their time fluffing and buffing. 

Near the pelicans a harbor seal is acting in a most peculiar way.  He come up tail first and crashes back down.  At first I think it is just an anomaly.  Three or four big thrashes, and then all is quiet again.  But there he goes, doing it again.  Lots of seal grunting going on over there too:  grunts, belches, burps.  Noisy fellows.    Twenty or more harbor seals are hauled out on low rocks nearest the river channel. 
The tide is coming in, easing the seals off their rocks one by one.  I chuckle at how the seals try to stay as long as possible on their haul-out rocks.  They look like fat potato chips curling their tail flippers and head up more and more, trying to keep tender parts out of the water.  Finally one wave, just a little higher than the last floats the seals off one by one.  The seal on the highest rock is last to go.  Seals are well insulated, well prepared to cope with the cold Pacific water; but they obviously enjoy their cozy sleepy time too. 

I switch back and forth between seal watching and pelican watching.  Pelicans continue to fly in for a quick bath on the river, then fly over to the low rocks for the fluff and buff time.  Finally, small groups of pelicans head back out to the ocean, probably heading to Table Rock where they can safely spend the night.   The preening spot is a busy place, but the numbers of birds doesn’t change much.  Some come.  Some go.  Herrmann’s gulls and western gulls are out there too.  The seals keep on splashing and growling.  I’m still wondering what that is all about. 

Dale and I concentrate on the scene before us for a good two hours.  Still grey, but then the sun lowers just enough to send brief rays of sunshine slipping underneath the clouds above.  Suddenly the water is bluer, the yellows and reds on the pelicans glow, and the lighthouse is warmed.  The lighthouse was painted cream and rusty red just a few years ago after years of being white.  These are the original colors of the light house ….. beautiful in the late afternoon sun. 

At home note:  After several seals were washed off the rocks I saw three were out there thrashing and splashing.  I realized there must be a reason for this behavior I had never seen before.  When I got home I looked up seal behavior.  It is seal breeding season.  Harbor seals are well known for their underwater vocalizations and thrashing behavior during courtship – always something new to learn.