Saturday, November 5, 2022

Paulson's Patented Patience Powder: PPPP


I didn't coin the phrase, 'Paulson's Patented Patience Powder!'  Our good friend, Joseph Conrad, coined it several years ago.  Joe is a retired physical chemistry professor we met in Yellowstone.  Someone suggested ‘that couple with Oregon plates on their van’ could help him identify a plant.  We clicked and over several years spent quite a bit of time with Joe.  After hanging out with us and seeing how long we sit and patiently watch, Joe coined the term PPPP — Paulson’s Patented Patience Powder.  He figured we sprinkle ourselves with PPPP on a regular basis.    Joe used to sleep in and often snuggled in his van reading things like the "Iliad" — in Yellowstone.  No more.  When he gets to Yellowstone, he can’t wait to get out in the park, pull out his PPPP. Over the years several people, including Joe, have thanked us for opening their eyes to the value of just waiting and watching.  


After a disappointing summer of either too hot or too smoky we finally are getting some rain,  clean air, and a few sunny days.  Time to go out and dose ourselves with PPPP.  


We head out to a little reservoir near us.  It is kept full all summer for recreation, but, on or about Oct 15, the Sutherlin Water Master draws it down to mostly a mud flat with a small stream meandering through.  When we get heavy rains, the reservoir fills instead of flooding the little town of Sutherlin downriver from the reservoir.  Then the water master lets the water out gradually and waits for the next heavy rain.  We look forward to drawdown because for a month or so fish are concentrated and bring in shorebirds, great blue herons, egrets, and even a few migrating white pelicans.  The last two years haven’t had nearly as many fish because our local fish hatchery burned in the 2020 wildfire, ending the stocking of fish; but the reservoir is still somewhat of a magnet.  


We park on the dam, where we can get close to the water, and liberally dose ourselves with PPPP.  It is so nice sitting here.  Trees are turning gold; a few fluffs of white clouds float over distant hills; water almost a mirror.  Not a lot of ducks, but we do have a flock of Canada geese, a few herons, egrets, and half a dozen coot inspect the mud flats. We even have three white pelicans resting near the water edge.   On the other side of the reservoir, a mature bald eagle perches high in the cluster of snags.  

Nearby an immature great blue heron catches a fish .... a stab into the water, a quick gulp and down the hatch.  Two fishermen arrive.  The heron catches two more fish; the fishermen don't.  A kingfisher comes and hovers over the water below us ... but only for a moment.  His luck isn't any good either.  The pelicans have left the mud shoreline and are bathing.  Whop!  Whop!  It surprises me I can hear their heavy wings beating the water from so far away.  


A little more PPPP is in order. 

The fishermen give up, but our young heron is still hungry.  He grabs a fourth fish, a rather large bullhead which poses a problem.  

He turns and carries his fish to where the water is only about an inch deep; drops the fish and stabs three times.  He picks his fish up, but it is full of wiggle.  


This heron now holds his fish still for a moment.  Wiggle! Drat!  He drops it again and the fish does it's best to escape in the mud and very shallow water.  Easy to catch.   The heron stabs again and again.  The fish is starting to lose its wiggle.  

‘Whoosh’!  Down comes the mature bald eagle and literally scares the crap out of the heron.  Look carefully and you can see the lone string of white poop and the bullhead is in midair.

In one neat swoop, the eagle snags the muddy bullhead and flies back to the far-off snag where he had been perched.  Note the eagle's muddy feet. 


Slightly ruffled, the great blue heron lands nearby.  Soon he is trying for another dinner.

And so ends a good day!



Sunday, November 14, 2021

Slow Motion: Comments on a Slug

I’m having lunch with a slug ... my slug.  Maybe I should say, “My pet slug.”  Oh dear.  I’ve really gone bonkers.  Dare I really admit I’m having lunch with a slug? 


In case you are wondering:  he is not on my plate!  Merely in a jar next to me where I can watch --- a dark, dirty lump which has been doing nothing at all for at least 45 minutes.  This craziness started nearly a month ago.  


While digging in my (future) rock garden I unearthed a strange, pale, firm lump.  This slimy pod is about the size and shape of a Brazil nut.   It is so strange I brought it into the house to show Dale.  We both pondered on what it might be.  My biggest clue was the slime which made dirt stick like glue.  So I rinsed him off and took a picture.  ..... and went to the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife website to see if it might be some type of gastropod.  


Yes!  A slug.  The website lists 29 slugs, about half of which are non-native and most of which are hard to tell apart.  If my little slug would just stretch out like a proper slug, I would have recognized it as a slug right away, but this one can go into a tight, scaredy-cat mode.  He does have one, clearly identifying feature: what looks to be a small shell tight to its body down near the rear end.  You can see it in my photo.  This little shell gives the slug its name:  Earshell Slug, Testacella haliotidea.  This is one of the uninvited, nonnative slugs.  I read they are seldom seen because they usually are underground and that this slug is a carnivore!  I thought all slugs eat organic matter, but a worm is the preferred dinner for him.  Since I popped my slug in the jar nearly a month ago, I’ve fed him four worms.  I can’t find the worms so I assume he has dined well and I can only find him if I gently stir the two inches of soil I’ve given him.  


Today I stirred around and put him on top of the soil – a dirty, Brazil nut shaped lump.  I’m hoping, as I sit here watching him, that he will finally stretch out and look like a proper slug. I put a new worm in there too, hoping for some real action, but the worm quickly dug itself into the soil and disappeared.  


Watching is sooooo slow.  Slower than watching ice cream melt; slower than a five-year-old waiting for Christmas; slower than the last ember going black in a camp fire.  I had him next to my computer for a while, then in the kitchen while I made sandwiches, and now, next to me while I eat.  I figure he’ll finally relax and dig himself back into the darkness of his soil. 


I’m halfway through my sandwich when I start to wonder if I’m seeing movement, or is it my imagination?  I’m feel as though nothing is happening and yet it happens.  I finally start to see tiny peeks of his pale body under that sticky layer of dirt.  He is relaxing just a tad.  More watching.  Maybe he is no longer on his side. Has he ever so gradually righted himself?  Hard to tell because of all the dirt. 


I thought my patience would be well rewarded; that I would be able to give a blow by blow description of the slug stretching out and digging in.  But all I see feels like my eyes are playing tricks on me.  He never stretches out.  My black lump ever so gradually eases into the soil, seemingly without ever disturbing the soil.  It takes several minutes.  Finally he is gone!  


.... and I’m chuckling at myself for all the time I spent watching nothing. 


Saturday, April 10, 2021

Tough Bug!

April 6:  Mildred Knaipe County Park, Douglas County, Oregon

 The sun shines, its breezy, and a little cool. As I wander from one old apple tree to another I hear individual orchestras humming and buzzing.  Maple trees are also singing.  Honey bees are out in full force and seem extra active to keep up with the coolness of the day. 

Down by the pond Dale finds one lone damselfly and click beetle visiting an English daisy, but mostly it is pretty quite down here too.  


I see a little brown blob clinging to a section of dead, floating sedge – maybe a snail. When I was a little girl I had great success raising snails and I have a hankering to try it again.  Wet, squishy earth immediately soaks my knees as I kneel, grab a twig and pull the sedge towards me.   Dale has a conniption fit thinking I’m going to roll right into the pond.  I’ve already put my camera and pack down, so I’m willing to live dangerously.    


But it isn’t a snail.  It’s a tiny, bedraggled beetle hanging on for dear life!  Lucky for him this silly lady in tennis shoes came along; and lucky for me my pack has a small plastic bowl in which to temporarily corral him.  

It looks like a dung beetle, but not quite like one I’ve ever seen before.  It has horns and a humped back.  The little guy is smaller than the end of my little finger.  He settles into his temporary corral and sets to work cleaning and drying himself.  With my eyes I can’t see much, but I’ve got a close-up lens on my camera so I can enjoy watching his toilette while Dale and I both photograph.  


The ends of each arms has a delicate ‘tarsus,’  so tiny compared to the rest of his front leg.  He wipes and wipes.  Once done with his head …

his middle legs reach up and wipe down the middle of his body 

… and finally his hind legs wipe down his tail end.  

Beetles technically have two sets of wings:  The hard out covering is the elytra – the first set of wings.  Underneath lies folded a pair on thin, transparent wings.  The magic underneath the elytra never ceases to amaze me.  I’m hoping this little guy is cold enough and slow enough for me to actually see that second pair of wings …. But, Pop!  Just like popcorn.  He pops those wings open and off he goes, flying off to new places.  I’m left wishing he had stayed longer although I had a good fifteen minutes.  

This is a different kind of beetle, but Dale did catch this beetle just before launch.  See how the wings are unfolding.


Once we got home it took a couple of days to figure out just what kind of beetle I found – a bull-headed dung beetle, Onthophagus taurus.  …and once in a while I stumble upon some gems of information.  His ‘horns’ can vary considerably.  Some have horns that would make a Watusi bull proud.  He is prepared to do battle with other dung beetles in tunnels of dung.  Most important, this little beetle has been written up in as nearly strongest animal on earth for its size!  He can pull 1141 times his own weight!   That is equivalent to a man lifting two fully loaded 18 wheeler trucks.  To come up with this amazing statistic, someone tied a thread to a beetle’s back, pulled it through a pully and added a little bucket.  Drops of water where added to the bucket to see just how much the beetle could pull.  The beetle must have been given a rough surface to cling to.  I think about this and I imagine the beetle dangling from his thread and the bucket of droplets sitting on the ground.

If that indignity isn’t enough, it was a tiny mite that has been found to be even stronger.  

Saturday, March 20, 2021

Early Spring in Yellowstone

 I keep a very relaxed nature journal .... by that I mean some pages are careful, some are quick sketches, often I make a mess, and even more often I don't get my pages finished in a timely fashion.  The weather here has been dreary and yet spring is in the air.  What better way to enjoy it than by taking advantage of a couple wet days to finish these pages from April 2019.  

We arrived in Gardiner and found our cabin was locked!  The hosts were attending a wedding out of town and forgot to leave our cabin open or give a key to the neighbors. ... and I had just picked up about $200 of fresh groceries in Bozeman.  Much to our good fortune we are good friends with both next door cabin neighbors.  One filled his refrigerator with our groceries and the other got on the phone and found us a lovely spot five miles out of town.  That night it snowed ... and in the morning this magpie greeted us.  

Late the next day we got in our own cabin and the trip really began.  Here are my journal pages from the first week.  

Winter still lingers in Yellowstone in mid April  .. sometimes a lot of winter.  I grew up in snowy Wisconsin and look forward to a taste of winter when we arrive.
Redtailed hawks are forming their territories and sunny exposed locations have often lost their snow.

Spring came early in 2019 ... Blacktail Ponds had lots of open water.  Often it is still frozen.
These pen and ink sketches were finished on location.  The other pages were started on location, but I just added most of the paint.

Monday, February 22, 2021

Itty Bitty Critters


I’m hoping you’ll enjoy seeing what I do when the weather is sour and I want a dose of nature.  I’ve enjoying a whole new arena of wildlife.


I’ve been attending a zoom nature journaling conference ... one of the sessions was a ’Plankton Microscope Expedition.’  That got me thinking about my very nice microscope that has been gathering dust for over 20 years.  I traded a painting for it about 40 years ago and shared it with my young daughters until the electrical cord came out (no fault of theirs).  Dale tried to fix it, but my memory said it still didn’t work... would it light up?  


I plugged it in and had light for about two minutes ... just long enough to really wet my appetite.  Necessity is the mother of invention.  I soon found I could see very well using a LED flash light!  I can either shine the light down onto the slide, or up from underneath.


First I went to a soggy puddle in my backyard and found lots of tiny, tiny little specs of microscopic critters running in mad circles – like bumper cars at the county fair.  I think they are water fleas.  How do they get there?  In summer that dip in the lawn is bone dry, but during the soggy parts of winter the puddle is an obstacle on my way to my compost pile.  

Next I harvested a tuft of mosses and lichens off the bark on my honey locust tree.  It was easy to find a half inch grub, but what really amazed me was a tiny insect  -- 2 mm in length (3/32 of an inch).  Remember, adult insects don’t keep on growing.  This was an adult.  I could hardly see it.


I have a glass slide with a little scoop out where I can trap something so small.  I put a wafer of glass on top of the scoop out and trapped him long enough to look at him.  I wasn’t sure what it was until I saw two pairs of wings and fairly long antennae – definitely not a fly and probably a tiny wasp!  I penciled him looking through the microscope and after I released, it I painted a clone.  It was so small the wings don’t even have veins, just little speckles and a fringe of hairs.  

Next day I took my exploration even farther.  Drawing through the microscope is hard ... the little critters keep zipping out of my field of view.  I wanted to photograph my finds.  I actually found another wasp, trapped it on my slide again and started experimenting.  It’s hard.  I really need three hands:  one to push the slide around, one to focus the microscope, and one to hold my cell phone in position.  But it is possible!  I even have a transparent ruler I can put under on the slide and measure pretty accurately.  


I submitted my wasp to and verified it really is a wasp, probably Trichopria sp.  

This little cutie is a booklouse:  Reticulate-winged trogid – Lepinotus reticulatus.  He is just under one millimeter!

... and this is a slender springtail, Entomobrya katzi– all of 1.5 mm.  He created a flurry of e-mails on Bug Guide.  He is the first submission since a change in the scientific name.

... and a baby spider – about 1 mm.


What will I find next?

Sunday, December 27, 2020

Outside My Window

 I haven’t posted for ages.  I have at least two journal posts tucked up my sleeve about a little reservoir near here, but I haven’t taken the time to finish some of the art.  But it occurs to me I’ve been filling my journal with pages right from my front yard.  The positive part of being home so much, is I have an added appreciation of what goes on right here. 


Sept 21:  The insect sign on the oak leaves is a confession about how easily I can get distracted while doing yard work.  We were doing some extensive pruning in our yard and I kept noticing interesting insect sign on the oak branches I was cutting. 

Sept 30:  After most flowers have dried up and withered away, our ivy starts to blossom.  Years ago I sat on a stool and drew insects attracted to the ivy.  I did it again this year – far fewer insects.  I think that is wildfire smoke related.  


Oct 9. – I posted a blog about crows and squirrels.  I'm putting the link here because it is very much a part of what goes on outside my house.

After not having any wild turkeys in the yard, two toms have started coming through every day.  I’ve been making a point of sketching them ... practicing my sketching skills and getting to know them better.  Dale puts out grain on the ground for the sparrows and along come the toms to clean it up.  After they leave, Dale puts out more grain.  Here come the toms again!  We’ve named them ‘Thanksgiving’ and ‘Christmas’  ... but have given them the obligatory pardon.

Nov 23:  The Stellar’s jays are a treat.  They are still coming.  I just spotted one while working on this blog.  

Dec 19:  Usually Dale and I participate in the annual Audubon Christmas count.  I helped on my first count about 65 years ago!  And during the past 40 years I only missed one.  This year, for the first time. All we did was a ‘feeder count’ – we happen to live within the count circle, so I got to count the birds we can see in our yard.  

Dec 25:  Christmas morning was rainy and dark ... but right away I spotted an Anna’s hummingbird taking a shower on our hawthorn snag.  It was 41 degrees outside!  It was a lovely way to start our quiet Christmas day at home.  


Yes, there is a lot that goes on in my own small turf.  

Sunday, November 22, 2020

Time for a Breath of Fresh Air

Note:  Brown type indicates transcriptions of my journal notes with very slight editing ...

Sept. 19:  Two night ago I tried to grab the colors of rain clouds and the setting sun ... fresh vibrant color, not smothered in a smoke screen.  Today a turkey vulture soared against blue sky -- music for my soul.  The Oregon fires aren't over yet, but they have quieted and everyday the news is better.  We even had some rain. 

When I blogged on October 8 I had an advanced case of cabin fever.  Wildfire smoke had kept us home for over a month.  We had brief stretches with decent air quality when the air moved in from the Pacific, but to the north, south, and west wildfires still kept us smoky.    

Cool, damp and a light haze of smoke hangs in Cooper Creek’s canyon.  Long rays of sun slip through tall firs as the sun slips over the far ridge


Real relief finally came October 15 – our first day back out sniffing the breezes and seeing what nature had to offer us.  As you can see from my sketchbook painting, some smoke still hung in the air, but in a tolerable amount.  It actually was quite beautiful. 

There is a stillness in the air and the quiet of a warm fall day waiting for fall’s bluster.  Tall dry grasses and dried Queen Anne’s lace sparkle with shimmering strands of spider silk.  Strands float past, slow and easy, drifting on the barely moving air.


Sounds come individually with pauses inbetween – a noisy fly ... one fish rising .... far, far off a woodpecker pounding  ... a California quail.  Mostly stillness.  Sitting here on the bank of the pond feels so ­good


The next day found us out exploring nearby turf again.  We spent the afternoon at nearby Mildred Knaipe County Park.  It was a lovely fall day tucked between the heat of summer and the wetness of our Oregon winter.  I could sit on the ground and enjoy every moment.

While I’m sketching Dale stalking dragonflies, one lands near me – a striped meadowhawk.  Sitting on the ground I’m at eye level with the hundreds of strands of gossamer, floating eye level in the barely moving air, each shimmering, backlit by the sun.


I confess my next page was drawn after I got home.  I was still hanging onto the flavor of the day.  I photographed the hawthorn knowing I wanted to draw it at home, and the fawn is drawn from the photo Dale took when the fawn paused to watch me.

We were just passing the machinery shed, heading for what is left of Mildred’s old apple orchard, when a doe came by on the other side of the shed.  She, too, was heading for the orchard.  Her fawn trailed her, paused with uncertainty, watching me.


Big treat on the way home!  Just a glimpse – stubby tail / pointed ears .... a young bobcat scampered across the road.  It’s usually 2-3 years between sightings, and all too often sighting are as brief as this.


I’m sure our day at Mildred Knaipe County Park felt especially good because we had been cooped up for so long.  Little did I realize it was just the beginning of a lovely run of getting outside.  Two days later we were at a different park, one to which we returned for 18 days in a row!  More on that in the next blog.