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!

 

 

Watching a Heron

...at a small pond, Umpqua National Forest, Oregon, U.S.A.:  

September 15, 2016

Autumn meadowhawks (dragonflies) flying in tandem

Fall is in the air.  The scuzz is gone from the pond and at midday shadows are fairly long.  The coolness of the night still hangs in the air.  Sunny spots are pleasantly warm.  Beautiful blue sky and a peaceful stillness.  Dragonflies hover over the pond surface.  Both autumn meadowhawks and California spreadwings fly in tandem.  No sign of the regular summer dragonflies, i.e. chalk-fronted corporals, white-faces, widow skimmers or baskettails.  We settle in for lunch before getting started on serious bugging.  Slam, bang!  I slam one car door after another -- stow cameras on the back seat; get lunch out of the back; spread it out on the dash and our laps.  It is ham sandwiches today, along with lots of veggies (green beans, lemon cucumbers, purple bell pepper, carrots and tomatoes), guacamole, a few chips, and Dale has pickle.  Cheese too if we want it. 

We are finally quiet. Dale parked in the shade and where we can see half the pond.  A great blue heron flies to a floating log across from us.  He looks about for a moment, preens a couple of feathers and then relaxes his wings down and out.  At first he turns his back to the sun.  Usually I see herons sunning with their breast to the sun.  I suspect that is coming soon.  He has probably been fishing and is wet.  The heron is just a little far from us for me to tell how wet his is. 

We munch away.  Sure enough.  The heron turns to face the sun.  Pretty sitting here enjoying the coolness of the shade, watching dragonflies, and watching the heron dry off. The heron log floats right in front of a dense edging of cattails.   The patch of cattails is about 30 feet deep along that part of the pond.  The cattails barely move in the quiet air, but then I notice a small patch cattails is being thrashed about. The heron notices too.  He pulls his wings in and cranes his neck.  I've got a suspicion of what is hidden in the long fronds, but I'll have to see it to be sure. 

The disturbance amongst the fronds works its way from the far side towards us, and is angling towards the heron.  The heron pops into the air, but swings around and lands on the log again, but ever so alert.  Now he is peering around looking at a little spot of open water behind him.  Off goes the heron and Dale sees a peek of the intruder, an otter. 

By now we are just finishing lunch.  Dale quietly retrieves his camera and walks a little closer to the cattail patch.  The otter comes out and dives a couple of times, but he is a shy fellow.  He heads to the far end of the pond. 

I'm curious what the great blue heron is doing.  To find him I walk the edge of the pond, looking back and to my right.  There he is -- belly deep in water.  Hummmm?  This doesn't look like an efficient way to fish.  Is he taking a bath?  I've only seen a heron bath once.  I caught sight of one doing a great splash right at the edge of some cattails.  When an eagle baths, he wades belly deep into water and thrashes about, slopping water all over with his great wings.  That is what that heron appeared to be doing. 

Could it possibly be that today's heron is bathing?  I know this pond well. If I duck into the path to my right I can get much closer to the heron without him seeing me.  I quickly trot along the trail.  I get to my spot and peer between cattail fronds, just in time to see one last dunk.  It definitely wasn't a clumsy fishing dunk, but rather, a get-really-wet dunk.  Now I wish I had stayed in the farther away spot.  I would have seen more of the bath, even it was farther away. 

I realize my heron is standing on a submerged log.  He walks the log until he is only ankle deep.  There he stands.  Drenched.  Time to shake the wetness from his feathers, preen a little, droop those wings a little and even grab a quick nibble on the fly.  Twice I see him grab a darner (a large dragonfly) in midair. 

The heron's log will soon be in shade.  No matter.  He continues walking the log until he is out of the water.  He soon flies to the original log, the one we watched during lunch.  That log is still in full sun.  If I may say so, the heron looks rather undignified standing there with droopy wings.  It takes a while to dry so I have a nice opportunity to sketch. 

The log is serving dual duty.  It's a good place to dry and it's a good fishing spot -- and a good perch for catching dragonflies.   Little fish have started jumping.  I think they are trying to catch mayflies.  One after another jumps out of the water. Suddenly the heron fixes his attention on the water near him.  He crouches low to the log and out zips his neck.  Good catch.  A little fish goes down his gullet ... and soon another.  I half hope he'll fall in so I can watch the drying process all over again.  I have seen a heron splash into deep water after a fish, but not this time. 

Shadows grow long early at this time of year.  Even though sunset is about three hours off, the pond has lost nearly all its sunshine.  Time for us to head home.  I know of at least one great blue heron that will sleep clean and well fed.