Oregon Coast Today Newspaper

Arts, entertainment & the outdoors on Oregon's central coast.

Darrel Faxon

Field Guide
A regular feature of the Oregon Coast Today.
By Darrel Faxon

Darrel Faxon Photo

Miss these violets, and you will be blue

[Posted May 14, 2008]

For those who enjoy the out of doors, this time of year there certainly is no shortage of things to capture the interest. Every day now some new migrant bird shows up, some newly hatched insect emerges, or some newly blooming flower begins to show itself. The excitement of spring is so strong in early May that one could walk about, taking in all the sights, smells, and sounds, and quite forget he had other responsibilities. Yet springtime is such that, at least on occasion, one simply must be called away from those responsibilities and take time, as they say, to stop and smell the roses. Or, in this case, to admire the violets.
There are a number of species of flowers from this family that grow in our area. Best known, perhaps, are the yellow varieties, commonly known as Johnny-jump-ups. These bloom in great abundance in moist woodlands, and are one of our showiest early spring wildflowers.
However, I believe they are outdone in beauty by their purple relative, the early blue violet. This species is in bloom at the present time, and certainly is one of the native flowers that entreats one to take time to stop and look at it carefully. The bluish purple color of the blossoms is pretty enough in its own right, but upon close examination the blooms are lovelier still. The five petals are white at the base of the interior of the bloom, and the lower ones are marked with a network of deeper blue veins.
In spite of its beauty, early blue violet can easily be overlooked. For one thing, it is not nearly so common in our area as the Johnny-jump-ups. To find it, one must go to open, grassy areas. Then, he must look carefully amid the matted grasses and leaf litter from the growth of the previous summer to find its blooms, as the plant seldom grows taller than a couple of inches. It seems to grow best in ungrazed pastures and other sites with little disturbance, although it can also sometimes be found blooming in closely mowed lawns. One such site where it can be found is at Ellmaker State Park at the far eastern boundary of Lincoln County, but there are also many sites closer to the coast where one may expect to find it with a little searching. It may also be found blooming in the grass in some of the local cemeteries.
Due to its relative scarcity and its extraordinary beauty, I am personally disinclined to make use of this violet for table fare, but both the leaves and flowers are edible. They can be eaten raw, put in salads, cooked as greens, or even made into tea. Violet flowers are also sometimes candied, and used in cake decorations.
The lowest petal on the flower of an early blue violet has at the back a slender appendage known as a spur, which contains the nectar produced by the plant. Insects drawn to the nectar are guided by the veins on the lower petals toward the mouth of the spur. As they probe into the depths of the flower, they come up against the pollen laden stamens, and at the same time, the beards on the other petals rake off any pollen they may be carrying from encounters with other violets previously visited. In this way the violets are ensured of the pollination necessary for their survival and propagation.
If one is really interested in examining the flowers closely, he may peer at their interiors through a magnifying glass. If you have never attempted this procedure, I highly recommend it. Doing so opens up a whole new world of wonder for the observer.
So this spring, don’t overlook the violets!

Ground squirrels beg, burrow and steal

[Published April 25, 2008]

Please pass the vernacular. The name “Beechy Ground Squirrel” probably doesn’t mean much to most people, but I suspect that every kid who grew up along the Oregon coast and spent any time out of doors is well familiar with the term “gray digger.” No one I know ever calls them anything else.
These ground-dwelling squirrels are common in our area. Wherever there are parcels of open ground, one may expect to see them foraging, or sunning themselves on top of a stump or in the low branches of a tree. Although they will climb to such perches for this purpose, they are seldom seen more than 10 feet off the ground. When danger threatens, they show their true nature by heading for their underground burrows.
If one takes time to look at gray diggers closely, he will discover that they can be very pretty. They are basically brown to brownish gray, darker on the upper back, with numerous white tipped hairs on the neck, lower back, and tail. Often those on the lower back are in dense clusters that tend to form into white spots against the overall gray-brown coloration of the squirrels, giving them an attractive appearance.
Taxonomists place ground squirrels, in general, in a genus called Spermophilus. The term is taken from two Greek words meaning seed and lover. However, gray diggers are generalists. In addition to feasting on the seeds, shoots, leaves, and fruit of plants, they are also known, when occasion presents itself, to add mice, voles, small birds, eggs, and even animal carcasses to their diet.
So long as gray diggers are some distance from human habitation, their diet is of little consequence to humans, but woe to the person who has a gray digger take up residence next to his garden! In such settings, these animals can cause significant damage to seeds and newly sprouting plants, either by digging them up, or by tunneling beneath them. They also are capable of eating large quantities of ripening vegetables such as peas.
If one is not intent on growing a vegetable garden, and does not mind having the little beasts around his house, gray diggers can often be lured with bird seed, cracked corn, or grain of almost any kind. Over time, they may become almost tame. In the same places where humans feed gulls and crows, such as the open, rocky areas near jetties, gray diggers will also approach vehicles, expecting a handout.
As their name suggests, they are truly adapted for digging. They have long, sharp front claws that enable them to excavate dirt in the process of making their underground burrows. These burrows, often as deep as 6 feet, are often dug under the protective cover of a rock or stump, which keeps the bedding chamber dry even when heavy rainfall saturates the soil.
It is important for these ground dwelling squirrels to have such dry chambers, because in our area they usually hibernate for several months. It is rare to see one between the first of November and the middle of February, although occasionally some will be out and about during warm days in January.
During spring and summer, gray diggers eat mostly newly emerging shoots of plants, but in late summer they switch to seeds and fruit in order to store up fat for their three month sleep. The strategy must work very well. I am always amazed at how sleek and fat these creatures look when they first emerge from their burrows in the early spring.
In our region, gray diggers produce an average of five young per year. Born blind and naked, the young take nearly eight weeks to develop to the point of emerging from their underground birthplaces. Then they join the adults in clambering about the rocks and semi-open areas in search of food. Unwary, they are susceptible to predation by coyotes, bobcats, and a variety of birds. Those squirrels that survive their first season learn their lessons well. One may often hear them barking out their warning chirp at the first sign of danger.
I personally know only one person who has ever cooked and eaten a gray digger. But, on his authority and that of a mammal book I own, it can be stated that the flesh of these ground squirrels is tasty, considered equal to that of the tree squirrels which are in many parts of the country hunted for food. Tempted? Just be aware that they can carry diseases, and are often covered with fleas!

'The Wound and the Willows'?
The many varieties and talents of pussy willows

[Published March 28, 2008]

Spring, as they say, is bustin’ out all over. One of the surest signs is the now-abundant blooming of the pussy willows along the streams and ponds in our area. This bloom is perhaps now at its best, showing in the willows growing along the shallow rain-filled puddles near coastal dunes. One place where they can be found in abundance is immediately south of the road leading to the Yaquina Bay jetties, but there are many other places in our region where they are growing in equal abundance.
The term pussy willow is actually a misnomer, when applied to our native species. Technically speaking, pussy willow is a particular species of the willow family, Salix discolor, which is native to more northern and eastern climes. However, the term pussy willow, which refers to the soft blooms of early spring, has come to be applied to the blooms of the willow family in general.
It is probably just as well that it should be so. Willows as a group are rather difficult to separate into species. For the layman, pussy willow works just fine. Several species can be found in our area: Hooker willow, Sitka willow, Scouler willow and black willow are all common in proper habitats. Black willow tends to be found a bit more inland than the others, and Scouler willow is the one most commonly encountered in drier upland locations. The other two are exceedingly abundant in coastal lowlands, any place where water is nearby. Of the four, Hooker willow is the one which puts out the soft, white, egg-shaped blossoms which has led many people to refer to it as pussy willow.
These blooms are actually catkins, the blossoming part of the plant in which seeds will later develop. Most willows, Hooker willow being one of them, have male and female flowers on separate plants. The catkins themselves have a very interesting story. Since they are among our earliest blooming flowers — they bloom on the trees well before the leaves unfurl — the weather during their blooming period is often cold. The tightly-wrapped anthers which make up the bloom act like a miniature fur coat, trapping the warmer temperature offered by the sun breaks and holding the heat close to the interior of the bloom. Only as the blossoms mature do the yellow tipped portions of the anthers begin to show.
Although many related plants, such as cottonwoods, are dependent upon wind for pollen dispersal, willows instead are dependent upon insects. They are, in fact, an important family of plants for many types of bees and flies that come out early in the spring. If one goes now to closely look at the blooming willows, he will see that there are many insects in attendance at the blossoms.
Of course, such an insect attractant also draws birds. The willow bottoms at this season are alive with many species of birds, most notably yellow-rumped warblers, ruby-crowned kinglets, chickadees, and bush tits, all which feed on the abundance of insects found in the willows.
Most of the willows in our area could more accurately be called shrubs than trees. Many of them never grow more than 12 feet tall, particularly those growing closest to the coast. What they lack in height, they make up for in density. They often grow in multi-stemmed clumps, and a small patch of them can often defy human penetration.
In addition to being attractive to insects and birds, willows are also important for other forms of wildlife. Beaver make heavy use of those growing along streams, eating the bark, and using the peeled stems in the construction of their dams. Blacktail deer bucks find the Scouler willow a particularly attractive tree on which to rub the velvet from their antlers, and also to use as scrapes announcing their territorial claims during the rutting season.
Throughout history, willows have been used for many different purposes by humans. They were exceedingly important trees to native people, who used fine strands of peeled willow bark to make a variety of things such as fishing lines, nets, ropes, and lining for baskets. People in the modern world are also taking advantage of the propensity for willow shoots to take root. Willow stocks are being replanted in many stream restoration projects.
Willow bark also contains salicylic acid, one of the key ingredients of aspirin. When boiled down to a syrup, it can be poured on to the dressing placed over a shattered bone. As the mixture cools, it hardens into a therapeutic cast, which will last six to eight weeks. I once applied such a cast to the broken leg of a 600-pound Holstein heifer, and it worked just fine.*
(*Not FDA approved for use on humans.)

Photo by Darrel Faxon for the OCT.

Toxic Newt!
It's not just a great name for a rock band

[Published March 14, 2008]

Now that spring like weather has arrived, one of the creatures a person frequently encounters during walks in wooded areas is the rough-skinned newt. This salamander is one of the most common amphibians in our area.
Like all amphibians, it has two stages in its life cycle. Adults attach their eggs to vegetation or other underwater debris. The egg masses are usually four to six inches in diameter and jelly-like in texture. The larval salamanders that hatch from them have gills, and spend the first several months of their lives in the water, usually staying hidden among the vegetation. Upon reaching adulthood, they lose their gills, and often move out into terrestrial habitats. Young newts that move from the water to land may stay in the woods for four or five years before returning to the water to breed. Some populations are more terrestrial than others, and some more aquatic. In our area they are commonly found in both habitats. One may see them either crawling about on land, or sluggishly swimming in some pond or slow-moving backwater.
Rough-skinned newts are easy to recognize. They are about 6 inches long, dark brownish orange on the upper body, and bright orange yellow on the underside. As the species is found from Alaska to central California, there is some variation in its color over the entire length of its range. Some are redder than others. But in our area they are predominately orange and yellow.
At the lower elevations such as those in Tillamook and Lincoln counties, these newts tend to breed from February to May. At this season one may often see copulating pairs swimming together, or even large masses of them forming a ball of salamanders in watery habitats.
The diet of these newts is primarily invertebrates. Both larval forms and adults in the water feed on things such as water insects, leeches, frog eggs, and tadpoles. Those in terrestrial habitats eat insects, snails, worms, and similar fare. The attraction of these salamanders to earthworms sometimes results in them being caught on fishhooks by people using worms for bait.
On land, newts are slow and seemingly vulnerable. When a newt crawling on the ground is disturbed, it will often assume a defense posture, with raised head, and coiled tail. This posture is a warning for predators to stay away, and it is a warning that should be heeded. Rough-skinned newts are among the most toxic of all the creatures that inhabit our area. One of them is said to have enough poison to kill 30 men, and there are documented cases of people having died after eating newts. The particular toxin they possess has the capacity to interfere with the proper transfer of sodium through the cells of the body, resulting in paralysis and death. Although the flesh of these amphibians is deadly, apparently most people do not have any negative reactions from handling them. People sometimes keep them as pets, and I have personally seen children playing with newts with no ill results. And personally, I don’t know why anyone would be tempted to eat one.
One might think that such a toxic salamander would not have any serious natural enemies, but such is not the case. The common garter snake that inhabits our area is immune to newt toxin. It is the only creature known to have such immunity. There has been some discussion among biologists which indicates that the most brightly colored snakes, particularly those with red stripes running along their sides, are the ones which have eaten the most newts, and that the toxin is responsible for the bright coloration, but I do not know if this theory is, in fact, valid.
In any case, it is interesting to know that we have, right here in our area, a creature which is every bit as poisonous as the more famous poison frogs of certain tropical areas, and one which is easily observed. You don’t have to go to Costa Rica and tramp through a tropical forest to find a deadly amphibian. You can find one not far from your own back door.

Getting to gnaw - er, know - the beaver

[Published February 29, 2008]

Perspective is everything. To a worm, digging in the hard ground is more relaxing than going fishing.
Now let’s put the adage to the test: What comes to mind when you read the word “rodent”? You probably immediately think some negative thought concerning a rat or mouse, right? Let’s try again. What do you think of when you read the word, “beaver”? Likely something rather different (unless, of course, you are a Ducks fan, or perhaps, especially if you are a Ducks fan).
Sports mascots and loyalties aside, beaver do share with rats and mice the physical feature which give them the title of rodent: a set of long incisor teeth which grow throughout their lifetime, hence the less official-sounding moniker, gnawing mammals. The fact that their incisors never stop growing means not only that they can gnaw, but that they must, in order to keep the teeth worn down sufficiently for maximum efficiency.
When it comes to gnawing, perhaps there is no mammal on earth more efficient than beaver. With one bite, they can carve a chip nearly half an inch thick and 3 inches long from the base of a tree they are attempting to fall. If one examines the ground near the base of trees where beaver have been working, he may find a number of these chips lying all around. Most of the time, beavers tend to chew down trees a few inches thick, but now and then they take on much larger ones. The toppled alder tree in the above photo was 18 inches in diameter at the base (And, no, that is not a beaver standing beside it. That’s my wife. Yes, she does have nice teeth. Thank you. She is also a very nice person, who enjoys exploring the natural world with me, for which I am grateful).
Once a beaver has succeeded in bringing a tree down, its real engineering skills kick into gear. It then cuts off the branches and small twigs, chews off and eats the bark, and transports the twig to a nearby dam.
Beaver dams truly are marvels of engineering skill. They may be 3 to 5 feet high, sometimes much higher, and are structured in such a way as to make it nearly impossible to completely tear apart. Sticks of various sizes are laid crosswise to each other, and then packed over with mud, until the entire dam may be more than 12 feet thick at the base, and likely weigh more than a ton. The well-known engineering specification of 2 feet of width for every 1 foot of fill is nothing new to the beaver.
Beaver will generally live in an area behind the dam until the food source is exhausted in that particular area. Then they will move to another area where food is more plentiful, and repeat the process. In this manner, they keep the watersheds in a continuous flow of change that is so necessary to the health of ecosystems. Many other aquatic creatures benefit from the habitat these large rodents create in the streams.
In some sections of the country, beavers also build large lodges in the backwaters behind the dams. These lodges serves as places to rest and escape from predators as well as places to raise the young. In most of coastal Oregon, beaver lodges are rare to non-existent. Here, beaver dig burrows back into streamside banks. The entrance to these burrows is beneath the level of the water, providing the animals easy access and exit from the interior portions, which are above water level.
It seems almost a forgotten era now, but from the late 1700s to the late 1800s, the beaver played a very important role in opening the West to settlement by Old World immigrants. Beaver fur is warm and durable, and the demand for pelts was high in Europe. Consequently, trappers fanned out all across the west in search of this prized commodity. Much of the exploration of the Rocky Mountains and even points further west was done by fur trappers and mountain men like Jedediah Smith, even before the area began to be charted by more famous explorers such as Lewis and Clark.
As beaver are for the most part nocturnal, they are relatively difficult to observe. However, they are common in our area, frequenting many freshwater coastal ponds as well as mountain streams. If one visits an area where there is beaver activity, and sits quietly at dawn or dusk, he may occasionally be fortunate to see the rodents quietly at work. And even if he does not see the animal itself, he may certainly enjoy seeing the evidence of its magnificent engineering skill.

Hanging around: Meet the barnacle

Published Feb. 15, 2008

I have often found it amusing that astronomers periodically send space probes to other planets, hoping on their craggy surfaces or in their gaseous atmospheres to find some miniscule evidence of life.
Imagine, if you will (supposing such a thing is possible) a probe coming from some other part of the universe to earth on the same quest, and not finding life. It would be essentially impossible. Our earth is packed full of life. It oozes from every pore of the planet, from the deepest oceans and the highest mountains, and from the driest deserts to the wettest sections of rain forest. There likely is not a place on earth where one could put down his finger and not be laying it on top of some form of biological life.
Certainly one of the places this superabundance of life is most obvious is along the coast, in the rocky intertidal areas and estuaries. One cannot look anywhere without seeing many forms of living things.
One of these things is an organism known to many as the barnacle. These hard-shelled creatures are members of the class of living things known as crustaceans. Worldwide, there are around 52,000 species of crustaceans. The members of this class, which also includes such diverse creatures as crabs, crawfish, shrimp, krill, woodlice, and even sow bugs, share some physical characteristics. All are invertebrates, which have hard exoskeletons surrounding their soft bodies. Like insects, all have three main body parts: head, thorax and abdomen.
However, in spite of these similarities, some members of the group are very different from others. Most are aquatic, but a few are terrestrial. Many are free moving, but a few are sessile, that is, stationary creatures that do not move from place to place. Barnacles, of course, are in this latter class.
The life of a barnacle begins as a larval organism floating free in the water. Soon, however, it will bump up against some object to which it will attach itself, headfirst. There it will remain for the rest of its life, growing from the larval stage into a juvenile, and, eventually, into a mature barnacle.
They attach to an astonishing variety of surfaces: a rock or a piling in an estuary, the bottom of a boat, a strand of rope, the shell of a clam or the skin of a whale. Barnacles that attach themselves to the hulls of boats can cause significant damage, particularly to wooden vessels, so fishermen must occasionally scrape them off. And what may look from a distance like white markings on whales may in fact be collections of hitchhiking barnacles.
Regardless of the place of attachment, once a barnacle has determined to park there, it stays. Try prying a barnacle off a rock or piling sometime, and you will begin to understand why even the most savage forces of nature do not dislodge them from their chosen parking spot. From this attached position, barnacles reach out with feather-like appendages to filter edible material out of the surrounding water. Standing underwater on your head for a lifetime, catching whatever happens to float by, might not seem like much of a life to us. But for the barnacle it works just fine.
In our area, barnacles are extremely easy to find. All one has to do is look on exposed rocks or pilings at low tide. Many thousands of the creatures will be attached to such structures, often in company with various forms of algae, and other marine organisms. Beachcombers often find barnacle-encrusted shells, fragments of rope, or pieces of driftwood on the open beach.
There are a number of species that inhabit the Oregon Coast. Among the most common are the white common goose barnacle, the leaf barnacle, and the cone-shaped thatched barnacle. Next time you see one, take a moment to appreciate its anchored beauty.

Something to Crow About

Published Feb. 1, 2008

Some birds, like wood ducks, we admire for their beauty. Others, like hummingbirds, we appreciate for their activity. Still others, like chickadees, we enjoy for their sociability. Then there are crows.
What can one say about crows? Well, they are black, unremittingly black: feathers, eye, bill, legs, the works. Occasionally along the coast one may see individual birds with white feathers in the wings or tail, but these are birds affected by leucism, an improper lack of pigment in the feathers. Most crows you see will be just plain black.
However, what crows lack in splendor and variety of plumage, they make up for in character. They are the buffoons of the bird world, walking or hopping about with an exaggerated swagger as if quite impressed with their own importance, particularly in regions where they have become accustomed to human presence. These urban crows, as I like to call them, swagger through the parking lots at the grocery stores and restaurants, hopping out of the way of passing humans or vehicles only at the last moment without any loss to their aura of superiority. I find it easy to admire crows for the same traits that in humans would be deplorable.
Of course, all this swaggering and posturing by the crows is not intended to get us to laugh at them or admire them. Oh, no. It is all about survival. Their apparent braggadocio is merely what might properly be called street smarts. On their prowls through the parking lots, or their meanderings along the beaches, they are always on the lookout for any morsel of food that might be dropped or offered by passing humans. Their sharp eyes miss nothing, and they are adept at seizing any chance of snatching anything edible.
They are indeed very smart. Once my wife and I were tossing peanuts to crows gathered near our car at the Yaquina Bay jetty. Most of them would grab a peanut, shell it out, and eat it on the spot. But there was one crow that was much smarter. He would always pick up four peanuts, arranging the first three crosswise in his beak and holding the fourth straight out. Then he would fly a short distance, hide them among the pines, and return for more. This particular crow also would never, under any circumstances, pick up a shell holding only one peanut. He would only accept larger ones, which held two.
Crows also show their savvy in other ways. They will drop clams onto pavement to break them open, and compete with gulls for food offered by humans. They are smart enough not avoid the gulls, who are larger and have quick reaction time. Yet, the crows still manage to get their share of morsels even when there are gulls all around. So if you would like some cheap entertainment, try feeding some of these street smart crows.
Further out in the country, crows are much more wary of humans. Here they are more likely to be found searching through pastures for grubs or grasshoppers, sometimes even turning over cow patties in search of whatever delectable items might be found there. At other seasons they will feast on apples, berries, walnuts, or practically anything edible. They will visit freshly planted gardens and pull up newly sprouted corn, and are not above stealing eggs or young birds from nests.
Around the first of April crows begin building bulky stick nests in trees, usually conifers. Here they will lay four to eight greenish eggs, which usually hatch around the middle of May. By mid June the young birds will be flying around with the adults. At this season it is easy to tell the two ages apart by voice. Adults have a sharp “caw.” Young birds have a much more nasal, drawn out “ cahhhrr”.
Actually, crows have a number of different calls: a sharp quick alarm call that alerts other crows to danger; a less harsh gathering call, and a variety of others. When in courtship they may also occasionally be heard making a variety of quiet cooing or warbling notes that have almost musical quality.
Crows are gregarious birds. They usually travel together in flocks of 20 to 50. Occasionally in winter larger numbers will gather at favorite roosting sites. They are also birds of the open country, frequenting pastures, beaches, parks, and other places where people gather, so they are easily observed. Anyone who takes time to see them as more than just black birds will soon realize that they are very interesting and entertaining creatures indeed.
Darrel Faxon, a resident of Lincoln County for 59 years, has had a lifelong interest in the habitats of the Oregon coast. Send him an e-mail via Niki.

This photo was snapped Sunday, Dec. 16, 2007 in Otis. The successful strike resulted in a population drop of 1.0 tadpoles at the pond outside the Oregon Coast Today's Otis headquarters. OCT photo by Dave Price.

Patience pays for this perennial predator
The Great Blue Heron
Published Dec. 21, 2007

[click to see more photos of this g.b.heron's hunt]

Years ago I read a small poem about one of our most common birds. It said,
“The great blue heron, stately, grand,
Tired of mice in the meadow, and
Hungry, perchance for the frogs in the sedge,
Went and stood by the water’s edge”.
The poem states a number of things which are true about this bird. It is, in its own way, rather stately. To gain an appreciation for its stateliness, watch one as it is hunting in the shallows of an estuary. It may stand motionless for long moments peering down into the water, then with a sudden stab of its rapier bill will seize a luckless fish for its meal. If the fish is small, the heron may simply toss its head back and swallow it instantly. Larger fish, particularly if they happen to be those with spiny fins, may be grappled in the bill for a time, moved back and forth until mesmerized, then turned for a head first trip down the gullet.
Or observe one stalking prey at the edge of a marsh. In such cases herons often move very slowly along with deliberate footsteps, placing one foot cautiously ahead of the other, alert for any frog which may be so unfortunate to be sighted by the sharp eyes of the hunter. In these settings they are the picture of stately elegance.
Flushed from edge of marsh or shore, great blue herons will squawk loudly, and fly awkwardly away – at first. However, once away from the source of agitation, they fly off with easy, deep wing strokes which gives the flight a touch of grandeur.
The poem is also correct in its acknowledgement of the heron’s varied choice of feeding habitats and prey. They can be found hunting in almost any habitat except deep forest: in fields and meadows, both salt and fresh water, along fast flowing streams, and near quiet ponds, in large, open estuaries and small tree lined puddles – even fishponds. Woe to the person whose backyard goldfish pond is discovered by one of these active predators. Or at least woe to the goldfish. Great blues will eat practically anything they can catch and swallow: fish, frogs, polliwogs, salamanders, snakes, mice, and even small birds. Their primary prey items among saltwater fish are those species which are bottom feeders, such as sculpin, but they will also take perch or anything else small enough to be captured and eaten. In freshwater, they prey upon bullheads, carp, trout, and crappie, as well as other species. Herons are, in fact, the consummate predator.
One of the things which makes these herons interesting to many people is that they are so readily observable. They are large birds, standing four feet in height, and may often be seen in open spaces. At periods of low water in the estuaries, 40 or 50 of them may gather in the shallows, each defending a particular feeding territory from the encroachments of others. They are also year round residents, so one may expect to see them any day of the year.
Overall plumage of great blue herons is bluish gray. They have reddish thighs, and some white and black on the head. In early spring, they develop a number of long, whitish plumes on the head, neck, and chest, giving them a very distinctive breeding season appearance.
If you ever happen to closely approach one of these birds before being observed , you may be startled by the intensity of the stare it will give you when you are discovered. Earlier this year I had an opportunity to see it well. As my border collie pup crested a dike, it startled a heron feeding in the marsh beyond. For the instant before the heron saw me following, it gave the dog a look that had murder written all over it.
Great blue herons nest in what are called rookeries. That is, they are colonial nesters. In our area, a group of breeding pairs will usually build their large stick nests in a single tree, or perhaps a closely associated clump of trees. The two to six eggs they lay there will hatch in late May. There is usually some mortality among the young at the nest site, but the surviving ones will be ready to fly by the end of July. Young birds are usually less wary than adults, and may often be approached closely.
These large birds are also quite often active at night. If you happen to be standing outside after sunset, and hear a loud, raucous squawk coming to you through the darkness, chances are you have heard a great blue heron.
Darrel Faxon, a resident of Lincoln County for 59 years, has had a lifelong interest in the habitats of the Oregon coast. Send him an e-mail through niki@oregoncoasttoday.com.

It's easy to liken lichen to coral
Published Nov. 30, 2007

Picture yourself, if you can, in a tropical paradise, soaking up the sun on a white sand beach. Lying before you is a shimmering blue lagoon, beneath the waters of which lies a coral reef.
You decide to go for an exploratory swim. Donning scuba gear, you slip into the warm water. Soon you are marveling at the beauty and diversity of the coral. Its brilliant colors and branched configurations dazzle your eyes. No wonder, you say to yourself, they call this paradise.
Now go for a walk here at home in a coastal forest. As you tread along, you come to an old stump. It could be any old stump. There is no white sand beach here; no shimmering blue lagoon. Yet there is something which seems to the imagination strangely familiar. But what? Then you see it. On the stump in front of you is a diverse growth of branched organisms sporting many beautiful colors.
In a way, it greatly resembles coral. If you covered the stump with blue water, you might even be able to convince yourself it is coral. But it is not. It is lichen, specifically club lichen. And the absence of the blue water and tropical sunshine does not take away from the fact that you are still in paradise. The more closely you look at the lichen, the more likely you are to be intrigued by its beauty and diversity.
In our area, there are two main types of club lichen: Lipstick Cladonia and Pixie Cup. Both are classified as club lichen because of the manner in which they grow. The base of each consists of a small clump of leaf-like scales which clings closely to the stump or open ground on which it grows. For most of the year they are relatively inconspicuous.
However, in the fall, many inch-long fingers sprout from the bases of these plants.
These fingers resemble tiny clubs, from which the family draws its name.
Many of these lichens are extremely colorful. Lipstick Cladonia is bright green with an even brighter scarlet tip. The scarlet tip is actually the apothecia, or spore bearing fruiting body of the plant. Viewed up close, or better yet, under a magnifying glass, it is a very, very beautiful plant.
The Pixie Cups are somewhat different. They, too, are club shaped, but rather than coming to a point, the top is saucer shaped, with flared edges and a recessed center. It looks for all the world like a tiny chalice. Indeed, it takes but little imagination to picture a fairy drinking from the miniature goblet. There are several different species of the Pixie Cup lichens in our area. They come in a variety of colors, from gray or brown to green or black.
Perhaps you are one of those people who longs, during the damp Oregon autumn, to travel to the warmth and splendor of Tahiti. That’s fine. And I would most certainly admit that the appreciation for the beauty of lichen in an acquired taste. But anyone who will actually take the time to stop and look at an old stump covered with these lichens will be able to see for himself the strong resemblance to a bed of coral - and just maybe will discover that paradise is much nearer than he thinks.

Mundane? Magnificent!
Published Oct. 26, 2007

I have long said that there are a great many people who, in pursuit of the magnificent, lose sight of the mundane. As a supporting statement, it might be added that if people would spend a bit of effort to really look at the mundane, they might sometimes be surprised at its magnificence.
OK, OK, lest anyone begin to think this is an essay on philosophy disguised as a nature column, let me make the application to the biological point intended. It is easy to get excited about grand vistas such as those provided at Cape Foulweather; to become ecstatic over some huge old growth conifer tree: to be wowed by the sheer bulk of a gigantic whale. Such large and obvious things easily impress, and it requires little effort to develop an appreciation for them. Yet there are many extremely common yet less observed things which have the capacity, if one takes the time to look at them, to fill the eye of the observer with beauty, and his mind with wonder.
Take mushrooms, for example. To many people, I suppose, they are at best “toadstools” to be avoided, and at worst, insignificant blobs of fungi to be ignored. This time of year there are thousands of them growing literally at our feet almost everywhere we go, yet many people pass them by without so much as a glance of recognition. But if one takes the time to stop and inspect them, he just may discover a world of previously overlooked magnificence .
What brought this subject to my attention was a walk I took last week in a thick stand of Douglas fir trees about 20 years old. The area was typical of much of the Coast Range, which in recent years has been logged and replanted to conifer seedlings. In these young forests mushrooms are abundant. In the forest in which I was walking one particular species, for which I do not even know the name, was especially common. A small, white variety with a dainty rounded cap was growing everywhere on dead and decaying limbs and other vegetative material. In one place there were several dead salmonberry canes, still upright, which were completely covered by the mushrooms to a height of 3 feet. As the canes were close together, the white growth of fungi on them made them appear from a distance like several tapering incandescent lights arising from the ground in the dimly lit forest.
But the best was yet to come. In another place, I found 30 one of them growing out of a year-old fir cone, the cap of some of them being no more than one-16th of an inch across. Viewed at eye level (see attached photo), the whole became a micro-ecosystem of its own, a white fungal forest resting on the decadent remains of what once had the potential to become the genesis of a gargantuan forest of green.
Of course, one need not get interested in mushrooms to find similar beauty and interest. The same fascination can be developed by looking at some of our ordinary flowers through a magnifying glass. When vied in this manner, even some of our more plain blossomed varieties show patterns and colors of exquisite beauty.
Closely examine the next bird feather you find lying on the ground, and your experience will be the same. The intricately hooked fibers will show marvels of engineering that are astounding. Pick up a clam shell, or stop to examine a strand of bull kelp at the beach. Look closely at the anemones in the tide pools. Take the time to see if the slender black insect crawling along in front of you will surprise you by making a clicking sound while throwing itself several inches into the air, as click beetles do when in defense mode.
Marvel at the intricacies of a well-spun spider web. Listen to the roar of the wind in a southwest storm, or to the quiet drip of fog from the trees on a calm morning. Be astonished at the singular color of blue of the broken robin’s egg you find on the ground. See how many, and how many types of insects you can find in 2 square feet of weedy lawn.
None of the things I have mentioned are rare. In fact, all are exceedingly common. All it takes to appreciate them is a trained eye and ear, and a willingness to see the magnificence of the mundane. The School of Nature is open 24-7, tuition is free, transportation beyond your own back yard unnecessary, enrollment unlimited, and enjoyment guaranteed.
Darrel Faxon, a resident of Lincoln County for 59 years, has had a lifelong interest in the habitats of the Oregon coast. E-mail him through niki@oregoncoasttoday.com.

Killer whales
Published Sept. 28, 2007

Killer whales don’t need to be movie stars to be fascinating. They provide plenty of interest on their own, without any hype from Hollywood.
They are, after all, very large mammals. A big male killer whale (also known as an orca ) can be a bit longer than 30 feet and weigh over eight tons. Even baby orcas are big, being as much as six to eight feet long at birth.
Orcas are also one of our most colorful marine mammals, or at least one of the most strikingly marked. They are black, with a white belly, a white patch extending onto the flank, and a white patch on the head. This pattern makes them almost instantly and easily recognized by even novice viewers, something which is not true for most other whales and dolphins. Another feature which aids in identifying them is the exceptionally long dorsal fin, which may be as much as six and a half feet long on large males, and often is distinctively curved at the tip. In fact, even individual orcas may be recognized by the peculiar shape of their dorsal fin.
While less common in tropical seas than in temperate and sub-polar waters, the range of these mammals is worldwide. There are separate populations in the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. In fact there are separate populations right along the west coast. There is one group which is essentially resident in the Puget Sound region, and at least one other group which migrates up and down our coastline. And part of the fascination surrounding these overgrown dolphins (for dolphins they are), has to do with the distinction between these two separate populations. The whales of the resident Puget Sound population are primarily fish-eaters. Those which range up and down the coast prey mostly on marine mammals, particularly seals. It wouldn’t surprise me if someday scientists informed us that these distinctive populations were in fact separate species. Taxonomists have done similar things with birds for less obvious reasons.
Regardless of diet, orcas are well equipped for eating their prey. They have from 10 to 14 conical teeth on each side of the mouth, and jaw muscles powerful enough to easily tear apart whatever they attack.
These large mammals usually travel in groups known as pods. Such pods are usually made up of only a few individuals, but at times may swell to 50 or more.
It seems that in recent years more people have taken to referring to these beasts as orcas, but the name killer whale, which formerly was more in usage, is well deserved. Captive specimens have given the public an impression of a harmless and loveable creature far removed from the reality of that which exists in its natural environment. Killer whales in the wild are known for their aggression and savage ferocity when in pursuit of prey. They have been observed sticking their head and upper body out of the water to survey ice floes for potential prey. They are also known to occasionally ram ice floes from beneath to dislodge seals and other creatures they intend to eat. I have read that in the process of doing so, they are capable of breaking ice several feet thick. It may be true. There is no doubt that they possess great strength. In the National Geographic I once saw a picture of a sizeable walrus which had been swatted out of the water by the movement of the tail flukes of a killer whale. The walrus was about 50 feet in the air, and was twisting and turning in preparation for what was likely to be a less than pleasant reception when it re-entered the water.
Although killer whales are relatively common off our coast, it is not often that one actually gets a chance to see one in the wild. I have been so privileged only once, when three of them once breached a few hundred yards off Seal Rock as I was walking on the beach. Others I know have been more fortunate. About once a year, usually right around April 15, a small pod of them comes into Yaquina Bay. Some people I know have reported that they raise havoc among the seals and sea lions in the estuary before returning to the ocean. So if you wish to see one of these fascinating animals in the wild, you might schedule a visit to this spot at that time of year. It would give you something to look forward to that might prove to be more agreeable than paying taxes.
Darrel Faxon, a resident of Lincoln County for 59 years, has had a lifelong interest in the habitats of the Oregon coast. E-mail him through niki@oregoncoasttoday.com. Photo courtesy Depoe Bay Whale Watch Center.

Add aster ...
to your must-see fall flowers list

Published Sept. 14, 2007

Every now and then it is nice to come across something that doesn’t quite follow the normal pattern of things, and perhaps it is nicest when the non-conformists occur among our native wildflowers. Most of them bloom in the spring, beginning in late February and early March. From those dates, there is an orderly progression of newly blooming plants throughout April and May, but then the parade of blooms begins to diminish. There really are not very many flowers among our native species which come into bloom after the end of June.
One exception is the common purple aster which is readily found close to the coast. It does not generally come into bloom until July, peaks in blossoming in August and September, and continues to show off its blooms sometimes as late as November, providing a welcome dash of color when almost all other plants have long since ceased to bloom.
It is perhaps unwise for the novice to attempt to assign a particular species name to this plant. Or perhaps I should say plants. There are something like 35 different species which are known to grow in our area, and they are separable only by differentiating certain technical aspects of the blooms, leaves, and even roots which are beyond the scope of most amateurs. In fact, they have been known to cause grief to even professional botanists. Asa Gray, who was among that group, wrote, “Never was so rascally a genus! They … may reduce me to black despair.” So unless one is really into black despair, it is best he settle for the simple title purple aster. If you prefer, you might call it Michaelmas Daisy. It, or a similar species, goes by that name in England and in some of the commercial garden catalogs here in the United States.
The wild variety is a very attractive plant. Its flowers are pinkish purple and yellow. But the statement bears some explanation. Members of the aster family actually have flowers which come in two parts. There is a central disc made up of short tube shaped flowers packed into a tight cluster. These are known as disc flowers. Then there are the ray flowers – the ones we normally refer to as petals – surrounding the disc. These ray flowers are the ones the lovestruck pull out one at a time in an effort to determine if their intended loves them or loves them not. At least that was the story line once given to children. The validity of the experiment is at best dubious.
Like most members of the family, the purple aster is an open country plant. It can be found growing in meadows, clearings, or bluffs near the ocean. It seems to have a high tolerance for salt, as it can often be found keeping company with grass and pickle weed at the edge of salt marshes. In fact, it is one of the common blooming species along the edge of the asphalt trail which borders the estuary on the south and east sides of the Hatfield Marine Science Center complex in South Beach, Lincoln County. If you chance to walk that trail anytime from now on through this coming fall, be sure to look for its pleasing purple blossoms.
Darrel Faxon, a resident of Lincoln County for 59 years, has had a lifelong interest in the habitats of the Oregon coast. Reach him through niki@oregoncoasttoday.com.

Tale of two talons: the bald eagle

Published Aug. 31, 2007

There are some things in nature that are beautiful; some that are majestic; some that are captivating. The bald eagle is all three.
Let’s start with beauty. No other bird in North America has the combination of dark brownish black body set off by a pure white head and tail. This unique pattern makes the eagle a feast to the eyes, whether it is perched quietly in a tree, or circling far overhead, and quite often it is the white head and tail which first capture the attention of the observer. They may be seen on a flying bird a remarkable distance away. The massive yellow bill combines with these features to make the bald eagle on of our most beautiful birds.
Of course, we are speaking here of adult bald eagles. It is four years from the time an eagle chick hatches until it reaches maturity and gains full adult plumage. Juvenile birds in the first year are mostly dark throughout. Second and third year birds can be a confusing pattern of mottled white and brown on the head, tail, back and even on the underparts. In these plumages they can look downright ratty, making one wonder if the story of the ugly duckling might somehow be applied to raptors.
As for majesty, well, that is a quality somewhat more abstract. Yet I suspect that anyone who has ever really looked at an adult eagle would immediately know what I mean. There is something about the bearing of this bird which suggests a superiority over its feathered compatriots. Perhaps this regal attitude is more a figment of human imagination than a quality actually possessed by the bird. If so, people of this generation are certainly not the first to succumb to its seduction. The founding fathers apparently thought the same thing when they named the bald eagle our national bird.
The beauty and demeanor of eagles is part of the reason we humans find them so captivating. After all, it is hard to look an eagle in the eye and come away unmoved. However, there are other reasons people are taken in by eagles – and by their story.
One is that the birds themselves have looked extinction in the face, and came away as survivors. This part of the story has, in a sense, more to do with us than with the eagles, but it nevertheless has become an indelible part of the aura which surrounds them. A few decades ago, the population of bald eagles was in steep decline as a result of a buildup of DDT in the food chain, particularly in fish. High levels of the chemical in the tissue of eagles led to low reproductive rates, due in part to egg shell thinning and low chick survival. Once use of the pesticide was banned, eagles began a slow recovery, and have once again become a common and numerous bird. Along the Oregon coast there has been a tremendous population increase of eagles in the past twenty years. Many nesting pairs inhabit our area, and it is unusual now for a person to spend a day on the coast without seeing one or more of the birds.
Another reason we find eagles fascinating, or should, is because of their incredible eyesight. There is a good reason sharp eyed people are sometimes given the term eagle eye, but it is hardly a fair comparison. The vision of these birds is many times superior to that of humans. I once watched one fly out of a tree on the east side of Hwy. 101 in Waldport, sail on set wings for at least three quarters of a mile, gradually moving lower and lower until it was just over the waves of the incoming surf, then pluck a sizeable fish from the water with its talons. It was clear that from the very beginning of the flight, the eagle had seen the fish, and took advantage of light and sea conditions to capture it.
While eagles do eat a lot of fish, they also feast on carrion, and are serious predators of birds. In fact, if you happen to be near the coast, and see a large group of gulls or ducks suddenly explode into flight, there is a pretty good chance that a bald eagle is somewhere in the vicinity. Eagles do take both gulls and ducks off the water on occasion, and these prey species are reluctant to let an eagle get closer than half a mile from them. The predation by eagles of murres nesting on the offshore rocks is also part of the ongoing saga between predator and prey here on the Oregon coast. In some cases it has caused murres to abandon long used nesting territories.
Darrel Faxon, a resident of Lincoln County for 59 years, has had a lifelong interest in the habitats of the Oregon coast. Reach him through niki@oregoncoasttoday.com.

Photo by Letha Weaver

Discover the surprising Ctenucha moth

Published Aug. 17, 2007

For the person interested in biology, there is simply no end to things which are capable of catching his interest. Trees, flowers, mushrooms, birds, mammals, and a myriad of invertebrate creatures all clamor for attention. The other day I was talking with someone about clams and such, and this person told me they were actually more interested in the things which live on the clams. For those inclined to use a microscope, a whole new field of opportunity opens up before them.
Most of us, however, are likely to be interested in, or at least notice, things more obvious, and more spectacular. And in our area, one of the most obvious and spectacular things one might encounter would be a Ctenucha moth, more specifically, a red-shouldered Ctenucha moth.
First of all, lets get the pronunciation down correctly. Ctenucha is pronounced “Ta-nu-ka,” with the emphasis on the second syllable. The full scientific name is Ctenucha multifaria or sometimes C. rubroscapus, the latter name a Latin reflection of the given common name red-shouldered.
The apparent disagreement among taxonomists (those who classify and name living creatures) as to the proper name to assign to this insect seems to go right along with a general ignorance about it. In truth, there seems to be little that is known about the red-shouldered Ctenucha. At least there is very little printed information regarding its life history, diet, or reproduction. It’s curious, because this sort of information is abundant for other species. So if there are any budding lepidopterists out there – those who make a study of butterflies and moths – Ctenucha rubroscapus is just waiting for you to come along and document its story.
Even though there is little technical literature regarding this insect, there is still much about it which is interesting to the layman. For one thing, the red-shouldered Ctenucha moth is easily observed. It is a day flying moth which can be seen throughout the daylight hours; it is rather slow flying, and easy to follow; it frequently lands on grass or low bushes; and once it has landed it is unwary and easily approached. All these factors make it one of the easiest moths to observe and study.
The known range of these moths is somewhat spotty. They have been found along the west coast from southern Washington to southern California, chiefly west of the Cascade and Sierra divide. In our area they are most common close to the coast, much rarer even a few miles inland. They are especially common on places like Yaquina Head, or other open spaces such as the borders of estuaries where there is an abundance of grass. If one takes the time to look through the grass, especially in the morning, he may be fortunate enough to find mating pairs clinging to the stems.
So why would one want to stop and look at these moths?
Well, the fact is, they are beautiful. In flight, they often look dull blackish, but when one sees them up close, he gets a very different impression. The wings are black, tipped with white, but the body is a dazzling iridescent blue, and the head and sides of the thorax (the shoulders) brilliant scarlet. This combination of colors makes the Ctenucha moth one of the prettiest types in our area.
The larva are attractive in their own right, being black with a series of orange tufted hairs and a black tuft at each end of the body. They feed on grasses until mature. Then, like other moths, they go into cocoons and emerge later as adult moths. July and August are peak months for these moths to be out and about, so the next time you are walking through a grassy area near the coast, keep an eye open for them. If you have never done so before, take the time to really stop and look at one resting on the grass. You may be surprised by its beauty.

Tasty & toxic, the elderberry thrives
Published July 27, 2007

The blossoms of spring have turned to the fruit of summer, and one of the plants whose appearance was enhanced by the change is red elderberry. This tree — although it is more properly called a shrub, as it seldom grows more than 20 feet tall — is one of the most common and most interesting ones found in our area. And as it grows abundantly from the ocean shore to the eastern boundaries of Tillamook and Lincoln counties, it is easy to find and appreciate.
One of the things which makes this tree interesting is its exceptionally rapid rate of annual growth. Shoots which sprout from stumps will sometimes grow as much as 14 feet in a year. No other native tree in our area even comes close to that kind of growth rate. The shoots typically grow straight up the first year, with no side branches, allowing them to put all their energy into height. During their second year, the growth tends to be along lateral branches, which spring forth from the main stem. These lateral branches quickly form a canopy of shade over anything growing beneath them, which is why those attempting to grow planted conifers on recently-logged sites must cut back the annual growth of elderberry to ensure the survival of the conifer seedlings. Even Western hemlock, which is a shade-tolerant species, has a hard time competing with elderberry.
Economic considerations aside, red elderberry is interesting for other reasons. It is one of the earliest shrubs to bloom in spring, often coming into blossom in April. The pyramid-shaped clusters of blooms are a dull creamy white, and not nearly as showy as those of some other native species such as red-flowered currant or ocean spray. Nevertheless, they form an attractive part of the wildflower display in early spring.
It is not until the fruit comes on in early July that red elderberry begins to come into its own, with respect to beauty. Those nondescript blooms develop into clusters of bright scarlet fruits, and throughout that midsummer month the red and green of the plants forms a very attractive display along the roadsides and in the understory of our local forests. No other plant in our area has fruit of such a brilliant scarlet color.
This plant is also known to be toxic, although it is a matter of some debate. I have known people, for example, who made jelly from its fruit and suffered no ill effects from its consumption. However, such preserves tend to be frowned upon by so-called plant experts, who insist that although the fruit is apparently non-toxic, the stems, leaves, roots, and bark of the plant is known to be so.
What toxin that might exist in the fruit is apparently eliminated by cooking, which would explain why the fruit can be used to make jelly. As far as the rest of the plant tissues go, well, the toxins in them are known to be of the cyanide type. As they say, you do the math.
Toxins notwithstanding, red elderberry is an attractive and important food source for many forms of wildlife. I know of at least one occasion when a five point Roosevelt elk bull fed on the shoots in the early stages of their growth. This is a fact I find interesting, because none of the goats I have raised at various times would ever touch the stuff. However, the real attraction of this plant for wildlife is the fruit, especially for birds. Band-tailed pigeons, black-headed grosbeaks, purple finches, cedar waxwings, American robins, and Swainson’s thrushes all heavily feed on the ripe berries. Often these birds will completely strip a tree of its fruit, until there is not one berry left. The thrushes, in particular, go after the berries with great vigor, hanging from the tips of the branches in order to get to them. As thrushes are otherwise furtive birds, not inclined to give a viewer good, prolonged views, elderberry fruiting season provides a good opportunity to watch them when they are less attentive to human presence.

Darrel Faxon, a resident of Lincoln County for 56 years, has had a lifelong interest in the habitats of the Oregon coast. Send him an e-mail through niki@oregoncoasttoday.com.

Darrel Faxon photo.

Don't be afraid to hunt this chicken in the summer
Published July 13, 2007
Even though we are only a couple of weeks into summer, it is not too early to begin thinking about the fall mushroom season. Actually, to call it the fall mushroom season is inaccurate. Mushrooms will sprout whenever conditions are suitable for them. Many will not show themselves before cool weather begins in late September, but there are some species that begin fruiting in mid summer.
One of these early mushrooms is called chicken of the woods. It is not your typical round capped toadstool. Rather, it grows in fan-shaped, flat layers, often one on top of another, always on rotting wood. Only the base of the mushroom is attached to the log or stump on which it is growing.
As mushrooms go, chicken of the woods is one of our prettiest ones. The top is bright orange, and the underside bright yellow. Fresh specimens are particularly beautiful. Older ones tend to fade to dull orange, and then to white as the seasonal growth decays. However, if one finds a decayed specimen, he will likely to be able to find a fresher one there earlier the next year, as they often grow in the same location year after year. In favorable spots this mushroom sometimes will get quite large. I once saw one that had formed almost a colony on the side of a sizeable fir log. There were four or five layers of mushrooms, one above another, and the entire mass was about five feet long. There must have been well over a hundred pounds on that one log. Most of the time, however, specimens will be much smaller, maybe only two or three individual fruiting bodies per site.
The reason I use the term fruiting body is because what we generally call mushrooms are actually the visible mature fruit, much as apples are the mature fruit of an apple tree. For most of the year, mushroom plants, if one may call them that, grow out of sight underground, in stringy fibrous mats called mycelium. When proper conditions occur, such as the right temperature and moisture, the mature fruit will grow out of this mycelium, and pop out above ground. Different species are stimulated to produce fruit at different temperatures and amounts of moisture. Since we had significant amounts of rainfall in late June, chicken of the woods can be expected to appear almost any time in the next few weeks.
Another thing that makes chicken of the woods attractive is that it is edible. It is also one of the easiest species to identify, and not easily confused with anything else. However, no one should attempt to eat any wild mushroom unless he is absolutely certain it is edible, because many of them are poisonous, some extremely so. Check with an expert in mushrooms before sampling them.
If you find a chicken of the woods, and do decide to try the taste test, take a knife and cut off only the tender outer tip of the mushroom (about two inches wide). This is the only section that is really tender. The inner portion closer to the stem tends to be tough and woody, especially on older specimens. Extremely fresh specimens will be the most tender and palatable. There are recipes in some of the mushroom books for those who would be interested. I have eaten this mushroom a few times, and found it to be palatable, but not as good as, say, chanterelles. Some people I know think it is quite good.
Chicken of the woods grows throughout our region, and one may come upon one quite unexpectedly. It tends to grow in places of deep shade, and if you find one, its vivid colors will brighten both your day and the surrounding gloom of the dark forest.

Darrel Faxon, a resident of Lincoln County for 56 years, has had a lifelong interest in the habitats of the Oregon coast. Send him an e-mail through niki@oregoncoasttoday.com.

Cape Foulweather is the Fairest of them All
Published June 29, 2007
To the naturalist, or anyone even slightly interested in the outdoors, Cape Foulweather is one of those must-see destinations. This biological gem, located just of U.S. Highway 101 a few miles north of Newport, has a bit of something for everyone.
One of the things it offers is spectacular scenery. The parking lot at the cape is only a few feet from the edge of the rocky tip of the cape, where one may look down hundreds of feet to the ocean below. However, there is much more at this site than a panoramic view of the sea.
If it is flowers that capture your interest, well, Cape Foulweather just may be one of the most spectacular places to visit on the entire Oregon Coast, and for a reason many people might not suspect. The very tip of the cape, right where the bluff drops steeply off to the ocean, is actually a tiny fragment of Arctic-alpine habitat. Its rapid rise in elevation and its proximity to the cold waters of the Pacific have created conditions that are similar in many respects to the type of habitat one would expect to find at elevations above timberline in the mountains: bare rock outcrops, shallow soil, and consistently cool temperatures. One of the results of this unique set of conditions is that many of the flowers which bloom at the tip of the cape do so from mid-June through July, similar to the timing of the floral display high in the mountains. So if you want to plan a trip to Foulweather to see the flowers, now is an excellent time.
The only drawback to really being able to appreciate the display of blooms there is that most of them are just beyond the fence, on the rocky point which slopes very steeply off toward the ocean, so one is not able to admire them at arm’s length. However, a good pair of binoculars will enable anyone to see them well enough to appreciate their beauty. Nodding onion, with its grass-like leaves and drooping pink flowers, grows near the grassy edge at the top of the slope. Both red and yellow varieties of stonecrop are scattered all over the most bare portions of the rocks. Mixed in among the stonecrop are red paintbrush and blue-eyed grass, a small but beautiful blue variety of the iris family.
Just a few yards to the east, the vegetation changes abruptly to one that is more typical of the interior Coast Range. Mixed in among stunted Sitka spruce and cascara trees are the beautiful pink Nootka rose, Oregon grape, cow parsley, and fireweed. In the forest along the road leading south from the tip of the cape there is an abundance of fringe-cup, wild lily-of-the-valley, buttercup, hedge nettle and miner’s lettuce, as well as plenty of tall lady fern and red elderberry. Most of the flowering plants here reach their peak bloom in April or May.
If it is berries you want, there are plenty of them as well. Salal grows all over the cape, and it takes but a little searching to find red and black huckleberry and salmonberry as well. The berries of the latter are ripe now. The others will come on later in the summer.
The tip of the cape is also a good place to watch for migrating gray whales. If you see a spout of vapor from a surfacing whale, and focus binoculars or a spotting scope on the area, it is often possible to see the whales themselves slowly swimming along not far beneath the surface.
Many species of birds may be seen at or from the cape, most notably seabirds. Common murres by the thousands sometimes gather atop the large rock a mile or so offshore from the cape. Cormorants nest in the crevices of the rock, and may also often be seen flying over the ocean close to the mainland. Pigeon guillemots, with their white wing patches contrasting with their black bodies, also fly back and forth from their nests in the face of the bluff, as do a number of western gulls.
During spring and fall , one may also see long streams of loons and sea ducks such as surf and white-winged scoters flying past the cape, usually some distance from land. The real prize among seabirds to be expected here is the puffin, but one has to be lucky to see one. Tufted puffins have occasionally nested in some of the more hidden crevices on the rock offshore, and occasionally can be seen swimming in the ocean just off the bluff. The much rarer horned puffin, a straggler from Alaska, has also been seen there on a couple of different occasions.
Cape Foulweather: a biological treasure at any season. Come and see.
Darrel Faxon, a resident of Lincoln County for 56 years, has had a lifelong interest in the habitats of the Oregon coast. Send him an e-mail through niki@oregoncoasttoday.com.

This flower is nothing to sneeze at
Published June 15, 2007

One summer when I was about eight years old, I discovered a batch of pretty yellow flowers growing at the edge of a field where my family was putting up hay. I decided to pick some of them and take them home to my mother. My oldest brother, who is my senior by 18 years, told me not to do it, because, as he put it, “If you take those flowers home, someone will get hay fever.” Of course, the results of this interchange were entirely predictable. I ignored his command, picked the flowers. and took them home. Someone did get hay fever. It was me. For several days afterwards I had a sore throat and runny nose.
I suppose the moral of the story might be: Don’t disobey your elders. In this case, there might be a biological lesson as well. Don’t mess with goldenrod, at least not in close quarters. So far as I know, I have never been affected by it the same way since, but I haven’t made a habit of picking it and putting it in a vase inside the house, either.
Regardless of its pollen driven ability to stuff up the nasal passages, goldenrod is an attractive plant. Perhaps before launching into a description of its attractiveness, it would do well to distinguish what species of goldenrod it is of which we speak, as there are several. The one which grows in our area is known as Canada Goldenrod, although it certainly is not limited to the country of that name. It is relatively common throughout western Oregon.
Like some of our other flowering plants, part of Goldenrod’s beauty is found in its density of blossom. It tends to grow in thick clumps, where the subsequent profusion of bloom is more attractive than one blossom would be by itself. Seeing the hundreds of yellow pyramid shaped blossoms packed into a few square feet is one of the pleasures of a summertime walk. The timing of the bloom is also one of the things that gives goldenrod its appeal. It blooms from mid-summer through early fall, after most of our wildflowers have ceased flowering.
Look for goldenrod along roadsides, margins of cultivated land, and weedy fields as it is a sun-loving plant of open spaces. It can sometimes even be found in openings in the forest, but never in the deep woods. Since it is a perennial, it can be looked for in the same locations year after year. It does not require any real searching to find goldenrod, because it is a fairly tall plant, on occasion growing to a height of as much as five feet. Its size, bright yellow blossoms, and habit of growing in the open make it difficult to miss.
There is an interesting fact about goldenrod which has some significance in the history of our country. Reportedly at the time of the American Revolution, American colonists unable or unwilling to pay the high tax imposed by the British on tea used the leaves of goldenrod as a substitute. Desperate men use desperate measures! It’s a good thing it wasn’t the other way around. Boston Goldenrod Party just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

Darrel Faxon, a resident of Lincoln County for 56 years, has had a lifelong interest in the habitats of the Oregon coast. Send him an e-mail through niki@oregoncoasttoday.com.

Stonecrop puts down roots on rocky shores
Pubished May 25, 2007

A lifelong fascination, to me, is how the ecology of the immediate coast is so very different from what is found only a few miles, and sometimes only a few yards, inland. The difference is sometimes like day and night. The birds, trees, flowers, and fungi which inhabit the coastal zone are often so dissimilar to those found inland that for all practical purposes they just as well be on another continent.
Of course, there is some overlap, particularly with plants. Typically, plants found growing, say, on rocky bluffs near the seashore, can sometimes be found growing in the same habitat elsewhere. So it really is habitat, more than location, which determines what species may be found in a given area. Nevertheless, there are a number of species, especially of plants, which may be found growing along the immediate coast that do not seem to inhabit the interior Coast Range. At least, I have never seen them there.
One such plant is broad-leaved stonecrop. It may be found growing on rocky bluffs very near the ocean. Although it likely can be found in similar habitats elsewhere, the only place I personally have encountered it is on Cape Foulweather. There is a considerable amount of it growing on the top of the high (very!) bluff just beyond the fence at the overlook there, and additional clumps of it can be found on rocky outcrops above the northbound lane of Hwy. 101 not far from there.
It always strikes me as odd to see it growing there. The places where it chooses to grow are almost bare rock: places that look like no plant of any kind could survive. To my further amazement, the plant is a succulent, a plant which has the capacity to store moisture in its fleshy leaves. Actually, the two facts go together quite well. Apparently because of the almost waterless places in which it grows, the ability of the stonecrop to capture and store moisture in its leaves is what enables it to survive in such a harsh environment. Still, whenever I see this vigorous plant with fleshy leaves growing on bare rock, it never fails to amaze me.
In respect to its ability to capture and store water, broad-leaved stonecrop resembles members of the cactus family. However, it is actually a sedum, one of several varieties of stonecrop which are native to the Oregon coast. All share the classification as succulents, and can be found growing in similar habitats. In fact, the name stonecrop is said to come from an old English word meaning “that which is gathered off stone.”
There are a number of interesting legends which have been associated with this plant, most having to do with romance. The leaves of stonecrop will stay green for a long time after the plant has been picked. Because of this quality, it was in medieval times used by young women for purposes of divination, the trueness of the heart of a suitor being determined by the length of time the leaves stayed green. Plants growing on the roof of a building were thought to protect the structure from lightning.
One of the nice features of stonecrop is that it tends to put out its blossoms in mid to late summer, after many of our native plants have ceased blooming. Its abundance of yellow flowers is quite attractive in their rocky habitat during the hotter days of July and August. So if you are traveling down the Oregon coast this summer, and have not made acquaintance with stonecrop, stop in at the overlook at Cape Foulweather. Walk out to the fence, and look over … carefully.

Cattail tale
You could eat it, but...
All about this useful, historic and underappreciated plant
Published May 11, 2007

It has been said that familiarity breeds contempt. Could we settle for under-appreciation? One of the most familiar, and perhaps under appreciated, plants in our area is the cattail, but such was not always the case. This widespread aquatic plant was highly valued by the native peoples of North America before the continent was settled by immigrants from Europe. The leaves were woven together to make blankets, mats for bedding, chairs, rugs, and seats in canoes, used to make many articles of clothing such as hats and shirts, and also for bags in which other articles were carried. The fluffy dry seed found use as stuffing for pillows. It was also used as a dressing for wounds, and even as padding for diapers. And here you thought that disposable diapers were a new invention!
Of course, with easy accessibility to store-bought clothing, bedding, and such, cattail no longer is used for any of these purposes, but it is an interesting plant, nevertheless. Perhaps we should appreciate the fact that it is one of our most easily identified native plants. The classification of plants is at times very complex and confusing, but the most ignorant novice can recognize cattail in an instant.
For one thing, the habitat in which it grows gives it away. Find almost any freshwater slough or marsh, and you will find cattail. It loves to grow with its feet in the water along the edges of marshes, swamps, lakeshores, or anywhere there is slow moving or brackish water.
Another way to recognize this plant is by its associations. Particularly at this time of year, if you hear the gurgling “ok-a-lee” of a red-winged blackbird, you can almost assume that cattail is not very far away. The males of this species love to perch on the tops of the cattail stems and sing while showing off their brilliant scarlet epaulets to the females they are attempting to woo.
Or, if you hear a raspy “shrenk-shrenk- shrenk- shrenk” coming from an unseen vocalist deep in the marsh, you can bet that the Virginia rail you likely will never see is well acquainted with the plant which is so plainly visible.
Then there is the easily recognizable form of the plant itself. The long, narrow leaves sprout up from the base of the plant to a height of several feet, and above them protrudes the cylindrical brown flower head, which is so familiar.
In all probability many people do not think of it as a flower, as it appears more like a vegetable form of a corn dog. But it is a flower, and in fact, a rather complex and interesting one. The bottom portion actually consists entirely of female flowers, while the top section is made up of fluffier male flowers. Once the flower has matured, the male portions fall off, but the female portion turns darker brown and remains on the stalk for a long time, well into the following winter.
In the early stages of growth this elongated flower is greenish, and can be eaten like corn on the cob. I even tried it myself — once. Need I say more? There is a reason cattail has not become one of our favorite garden vegetables.
There are a variety of other marsh plants which often grow in close association with cattail, including hard-stemmed bulrush (often known as tule), water-parsley, and, at the drier edges of marshes, steeplebush (as shown in the photo). At times the combination of these plants cover many acres of low-lying watery habitat, even in our area. In some of the marshes in southeastern Oregon, such vegetable communities at times are many square miles in extent.
One of the best places to get up close and personal views of this plant in our area is along Beaver Creek Road, just east of Ona Beach State Park a few miles south of Newport, but there are many other areas where it can be found growing in abundance. So if you have not yet developed an appreciation for this familiar plant, next time you are driving by a marsh, stop for a few minutes. Listen to the song of the red-wing, and make a more thorough acquaintance with the cattail.

Darrel Faxon, a resident of Lincoln County for 56 years, has had a lifelong interest in the habitats of the Oregon coast. Send him an e-mail through niki@oregoncoasttoday.com.

Wild Carrot, or Queen Anne's lace
A European invader provides a splash of summer color

From the April 27, 2007 Edition. Scroll below for older columns.

We are now smack in the middle of the spring blooming season for wildflowers. Trilliums, spring beauty, fetid adder’s tongue, and pink lamb’s tongue are nearly or completely bloomed out. Meadowrue, fairy lanterns, and bleeding heart are now blooming. In the next few weeks, they will be followed by columbine, wild iris, buttercups, and a host of other flowers, but by the end of May most of the bloom will be over.
Then comes summer. The number of blooming wildflowers will drop off dramatically. However, there will still be some putting on blossoms well into September. So it is interesting to give some thought to the differences between these early and late blooming plants.
For the most part, the early plants are ones which grow in the shade, often the deep shade of the darkest woodlands. They frequently have only a few blooms per stalk, sometimes only a single flower. While often beautiful in color and form, they are often fragile plants which would not hold up well in harsh sunlight or exposed locations. Also, since they grow low in the forest, and during the season when it is often cold and rainy, they depend upon small flies and ants for pollination, and seed dispersal is local.
By contrast, many of the plants which bloom later in the summer are composites; that is, plants which have many hundreds of flowers in a cluster at the very top of the plants. While also pollinated to some degree by insects, they depend much more upon wind for seed dispersal. Often the tiny seeds within the blossom come equipped, when mature, with a tail of fluffy down, which is easily caught up in the breezes and carried many miles away from their original place of growth. Dandelions and thistles are two types of plants whose seed is dispersed in this manner.
Another contrasting feature between the two types of flowers is the habitat in which they are found. Most of the early bloomers grow in undisturbed soils, or at least in places where there has been little disturbance for many years. The later blooming plants seem to often thrive best where the soil has been disturbed the most: along roadsides, on cutbanks, or in parking lots and other places where the surface layer of soil has been removed or altered.
Unfortunately, one of the reasons that many of these late blooming plants have been able to gain a foothold in such places is that they are not native to North America. The disturbed soils which accompany the building of places for human travel and habitation have proved an ideal setting for their incursions into our native landscape. Some of them have managed to arrive on our shores on their own, but many were deliberately introduced by well-meaning, if perhaps misguided persons.
One such invader is wild carrot. Originally from Eurasia, it was long ago introduced to the New World, and now is found throughout North America. Although the wild ancestor of our cultivated garden carrot, it likely was not brought to our shores by reason of its edibility. The root itself is said to be of bitter taste. It is more likely that it was brought here because the seeds were thought to have value as a contraceptive, as they had been used for that purpose in Europe since before the birth of Christ.
In any case, since it has successfully colonized our continent, we should just as well learn to enjoy it for what it is. In ways, it is a beautiful plant. The leaves are quite lacy and delicate, leading to the plant sometimes being called Queen Anne’s lace. One has to wonder, if it were named that by peasants during the Victorian period, if Queen Anne blushed upon hearing news of the nomenclature of the plant among the common folk. Perhaps so. The center of the blossom itself, in its early stages, is flushed with a delicate pink which is really quite attractive. As the flowers mature they may turn an even darker pink or even purple, contrasting to the whitish outer margins of the flower head.
Wild carrot is a rather common plant in our area. It often grows in very conspicuous places, such as those previously listed as being proper habitat for such invaders, and even though it is an introduced species, it does provide a certain display worth noticing during the hotter months after our native wildflowers have ceased to perform.

Darrel Faxon, a resident of Lincoln County for 56 years, has had a lifelong interest in the habitats of the Oregon coast. Send him an e-mail through niki@oregoncoasttoday.com.

Darrel Faxon

Seals, for your inspection
These mammals are easy to spot - no need to haul out binoculars

By Darrel Faxon
For the Oregon Coast Today
Published March April 13, 2007

Generally speaking, people who come to the Oregon coast to observe wildlife are likely to be looking for birds. After all, for the most part they are quite conspicuous, come in a variety of colors and flavors (species, that is), and readily tolerate human presence. Mammals, on the other hand, for the most part, tend to stay out of sight, are not so colorful in pattern or diverse in type, and tend to avoid close encounters with people. So as a general rule they are not so eagerly sought after. An exception to the rule is the harbor seal. In many of our local bays at times they outnumber the birds! This fact is particularly true in Alsea Bay at Waldport, where many hundreds of them may often be seen.
In such sites where they gather in abundance, the seals can be seen swimming along, often with only their head out of the water. Other times they float in more of a vertical position, with the tip of their nose sticking straight up. When they are in this position it is easy to mistake the pointed shape of the nose for a swimming bird until one looks at it closely.
When the tide is out, seals often crawl up on sandbars and rocks to sleep. Such sleeping places are called haul out sites, and unless repeatedly disturbed from such places, seals tend to use the same sites over and over. These sites must be close enough to the water that the seals can slip back into it at the first hint of danger.
Harbor seals are somewhat of a curiosity among mammals in that they do come in several different colors. Most are medium gray with black spots, but others vary from nearly pure white to almost completely black. Although it appears that a seal is gray or white or black because of differences in skin pigment, it is actually a covering of short hair that gives them their distinctive coloration. In fact, Harbor seals are also known by the name of hair seals.
Along our coast seals seem relatively tolerant of human presence, so long as they are not approached too closely, especially at their haul out sites. While swimming, they often will approach to within a few yards of people. Doubtless they feel a greater measure of safety while in the water, because their swimming ability is far superior to that of humans. They can sometimes be seen at places like Seal Rock, swimming right in the roughest surf with apparent ease.
Their tolerance of close contact with people is a relatively new thing, as prior to 1972 some people used to harass seals in the estuaries, and even shoot them. The Marine Mammal Act passed by Congress that year brought those activities to a halt because it placed the animals under federal protection. To this day, the act remains controversial, because it led to a tremendous buildup of seals in the estuaries at a time when the salmon population was already declining. Since seals do, in fact, eat salmon as well as other fish, the presence of large numbers of them in the estuaries may indeed have a negative impact on the population of salmon, particularly since in these places the fish are bottlenecked into narrow passageways where the chance of predation by seals is greatly increased. Young seals, known as pups, are born in the spring, generally in April and May. They generally suckle the mothers for six to eight weeks before they are weaned. At times during this period a female seal will leave her pup on the open beach, close to the water’s edge, while she forages for food. There are signs at numerous places along the Oregon coast warning people not to consider these pups to be abandoned and attempt to “rescue” them. Locals tend to know it, but first-time visitors to the coast should be informed that such attempts are both unnecessary and illegal.
Full grown seals reach a length of a little over five feet, and will weigh as much as 220 pounds. Apparently they do not need to be in a big hurry to grow up, as they live for a long time. Seals kept in captivity have been know to reach the ripe old age of 32. And no, I am not going to tell you how old that is in dog years.

Darrel Faxon, a resident of Lincoln County for 56 years, has had a lifelong interest in the habitats of the Oregon coast. Send him an e-mail through niki@oregoncoasttoday.com.

Hummingbirds return to the coast
Published March 23, 2007

By Darrel Faxon
For the Oregon Coast Today

Time to put those hummingbird feeders up! The rufous hummingbirds are back. In fact, in most places here on the coast they have already been back for a couple of weeks. As is typical, the adult males show up first, and the females and immature males show up a week to 10 days later.
Well, more on hummingbirds in a moment. First of all, let’s give a little attention to the feeders. There are many varieties available at local stores. The best ones come with a bee guard which prevents bees and wasps from reaching down into the tube for the contents. While most of the time the insects are not a problem, if they do start to use the supply of sugar water put out for the hummers, their presence will certainly keep the birds away. It is really sort of strange that it should be so, because by nature hummingbirds are quite pugnacious (rufous hummingbirds very much so), and often will drive birds much larger than themselves away from their staked out territories. But they are quite afraid of bees and wasps.
Once you have purchased a feeder, you should fill it with a solution of one part sugar to four parts water. It seems to work best to boil the water briefly to ensure that the sugar mixes in. After the solution has cooled it may be poured into the feeder. It is not necessary to add red food coloring. Hummingbirds are easily attracted to the red color on the feeders themselves. So fill the feeder, hang it up in an appropriate place, and get ready to watch the show!
It is quite a show to watch, too. In addition to being able to fly forward at terrific speeds, hummingbirds are the only kind of bird in North America that can also hover and fly backwards. At feeders they often can be seen doing both, and sometimes also rising up and down in one spot as if they were attached to the string on a yo-yo. Add to their powers of flight the brilliant color of the throat of the male, and you have all the ingredients for a spectacular avian performance.
Actually it is not quite accurate to refer to the color of the male’s throat – for two reasons. One, the brilliantly colored throat feathers are actually known as a gorget, and can be extended beyond the sides of the neck. Two, the feathers in it are iridescent, reflecting different colors at different times and at different angles. Sometimes the gorget looks scarlet, other times orange, or black, or occasionally yellow. The females lack this gorget, and tend to be green, rather than russet, on the back. Immature males usually show some coloration in the throat, but do not develop the full gorget of adult males during their first year.
If one is fortunate enough to live where an adult male has staked out a breeding territory, he may be treated to its spectacular dive display during the breeding season. The hummer will fly nearly straight up to a height of about 100 feet, then turn sharply and go into a power dive that covers the distance climbed almost faster than the human eye can follow.
At the bottom of the dive he pulls up sharply in a shallow flight curve, then repeats the process several times at different angles.
On some occasions, before climbing for another dive, the male will perform a back and forth display, with tail held high, and wings beating a noisy buzz-buzz-buzz. As this performance is done for the benefit of the female, if one looks closely in the underbrush or cover directly in front of the male, he may see her sitting there, demurely taking it all in.
Good as Pa Hummer may be at attracting a mate, he is not much when it comes to other domestic affairs. Once mating is accomplished, he usually goes off on his own, leaving his mate to tend to the eggs and young. From moss, lichen, and spider webs, she builds a cup shaped nest about two inches wide and conceals it on some blackberry vine or bush, usually in heavy cover and within a few feet of the ground. In it she will lay two (rarely three) white eggs about the size of a small bean. The young will fledge about a month after the eggs are laid. These young birds will often come in uncountable numbers to feeders in mid-summer.
By late June, most of the males leave our area. Females and immature birds typically linger until mid-August. If you see a hummingbird later than that, it is probably an Anna’s, a species which over winters – but that is a subject for another column.

Photo courtesy Darrel Faxon.

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