The Distraction Call of a Western Meadowlark Or Stark Terror in Mozier

   

Near the beginning of Rout 30 in Mozier.

Yesterday Sandra and I went to Hood River.  HR (not to be confused with Human Resources) is a small town on the Oregon side of the Columbia River.  Lying on I 84, it is a quick hours drive east of Portland.  Traveling in search of butterflies, and aware of the admonition that the further east one goes into the gorge the more species of butterflies he is apt to see, we whisked through Hood River and made the turn into Mozier.  Mozier is a small town on Oregon 30, a scenic and antiquarian byway that winds up into the hills above the river, offering some spectacular views of the gorge and river.  It is also home to the Tom McCall Preserve at Rowena. I had discovered this gem on a google search.  Pictured was a trail with hikers and numerous wildflowers.  I extrapolated several species of butterfly gaily nectaring on said blooms.

    As one passes through Mozier one is treated to an old roadhouse.  With white clapboard siding, this old edifice bears a roadster on the facade, highlighting the old and scenic Route 30.  Ever upward, one then motors past a winery and a cherry farm or two, and up onto the ridge overlooking the Columbia River.  We were confused by the information provided by the android version of Siree, and passed what was probably the preserve, although in actuality, it is not signed as such.  The road almost immediately

The Columbia Gorge as seen from Route 30.  Photo SKG

became an acrophobic nightmare, two narrow lanes hugging the sheer rim rock, protected only by an ancient stone guard wall all of a mere 18 inches in height.  As I write this, my palms begin to sweat.  

    After a mile or so, it was clear we had missed the preserve and I pulled into a nice large graveled turnout on the side of the road away from the cliff.  Sandra walked across the road and took the scenic picture you see here.  We decided, that as the return trip involved driving right next to the terrifying cliff, that she would begin the trip back towards Mozier as the pilot of our vehicle.  

   With much encouragement, like,"Its OK to cross the center line!", she soon made it back to the less terrifying portion of the road, where she pulled over, blocking the driveway of a distant home, probably perched right on the cliff.  At this point we were in a meadow of dried grass, with a few trees on either side.  We had yet to see a profusion of wildflowers as promised by the Nature Conservancy. 

   This being where we were, against all odds still alive, I pulled out our binoculars and, thusly armed,

Mountain Bluebird courtesy the Audubon Society

we  set out to watch birds and butterflies.  Immediately, we heard some flute-like piping from across the street, which I speculated might be horned larks.  Sadly, its been a very long time since I have seen horned larks and I didn't see any then, either.  As I was scanning the dry meadow, a bright blue bird, just larger than a swallow appeared, and swooped into one of three nesting boxes that were positioned on metal fence posts in the meadow.  I wandered over and watched the box, to be rewarded by a second of these birds, who arrived and hovered in front of the opening for perhaps fifteen seconds, plenty long enough for both of us to get an excellent look.  

    With a metallic blue mantle and very light below, I was confident that this was a mountain bluebird, and a beautiful one, at that.  As Sandra and I were discussing the bluebird I became distracted by some odd vocalizations in the grass just a bit away from the car.  More than one animal was making a pair of clicks, much like you might make with your tongue against the roof of your mouth.  

  Before going to investigate, I moved the car so it wasn't blocking the driveway and then proceeded through the open gate, blithely ignoring the No Trespassing sign.  There is a great tradition in birdwatching to the point that these signs apply to bad guys and not to harmless pajareros.  Thus assured of my righteousness I strode into the grass.  Judging by the number of small boulders that I encountered as Iwalked towards the clicking, this was probably not cultivated grass, for what plow could survive in this rocky meadow? About fifty feet in, I turned to my beloved and made sure that she was ready...her bird dog was at work and whatever he flushed, we did not want to miss it.  

Western Meadowlark, courtesy All About Birds

    There were two birds ticking.  I was hoping for an obscure sparrow, but really had no idea what it might be.  Possibly an introduced game bird, a curlew or any sort of passerine.  Another fifty feet and our quarry took wing ,landing in a shrub only another fifty feet away.  I got my glass on it to discover that it was a meadowlark.  

   Meadowlarks used to be rather common in Oregon.  In fact, the Western Meadowlark is the Oregon State Bird.  Now, however, the Western Meadowlark has become fairly scarce in Western Oregon.  His flute like melody is not heard routinely in wine country, which was once a prairie of wild grass, and we had not seen one in over a decade.  

   But even more importantly, I was unaware of the meadowlark making this two note ticking
vocalization.  Almost certainly what I witnessed were a pair of meadowlarks working as a team to draw me away from their nest.  One is reminded of the Killdeer who employs the broken wing display for the same purpose.  Research this morning at our local library did not reveal any of several bird authors talking about this two note distracting call.  It was revealed, however, that meadowlarks only have one clutch per year.  It is likely, therefore, that one has to hit it just right to find a pair  protecting their young in this fashion.  

   Once again back at the car, we were discovered by a lady bicyclist.  It is hard to do her sufficient justice.

Pale Swallowtail courtesy Jeffrey Pippen

  She had started at her home in Husque, up a different hill, and ascended 700 feet to where we were and appeared bound to plunge down the side of the cliff.  Not only that, she noticed our binoculars and stopped to discuss the birds  She was not at all surprised that we had seen Mountain bluebirds and suggested that if we waited until evening and were able to find Husque (which she pronounced Husky) we could see lots of Mountain bluebirds.  I didn't point out that as birdwatchers we only needed one and we had already seen it.

    As far as the wildflowers go, she was able to tell us that there had been a bloom that had finished about two weeks back.  She suggested that we go into Hood River, where there were bound to be flowers growing in the gardens.  As it turned out, we did just that, and we were lucky enough to life a pale swallowtail which flew past our windshield as we meandered the back streets of this cute old town. Pale Swallowtail uses cherry for a host plant, so it should be plentiful around Hood River.  We saw only one but (see above) when you're tickin' em off, one is all you need.

   Declaring victory, albeit a limited one, we crossed the bridge into Washington.  I'm leaving you with a picture of Mount Hood rising above the rimrock form across the Mighty Columbia.  Look carefully and you might see a Mountain bluebird.

jeff

Mount Hood as seen from the Washington side of the Columbia at Hood River.

The Western Tiger Swallowtail at Cottonwood Beach

         Over the last week Sandra and I have made it out to a couple of the local parks looking for birds and butterflies.  If we had been looking for the birds and the bees,we would have had better luck, as there are plenty of honey bees and bumblebees. 

Tiger Swallowtail Nectaring on Blackberry Blossoms  6/21

   Three days ago we went further afield, to the eastern outskirts of Washougal.  There, one is invited to walk over the dike and enter Captain William Clark Park.  Once on the river side of the dike, one follows a well groomed pathway through a stand of cottonwoods, which at this time of year is filling the air with bits of fluff.  Sandra thought we should fill a sack or two and take it back to our friend Jackie at the Lutheran church in Kona.  Jackie takes unprocessed wool and, using a distaff, produces her own yarn.  We will never know how she would do with cottonwood cotton, for the mere idea of bringing this wild plant product into Hawaii would undoubtedly make the agricultural inspectors defecate plush cats.  Now there's an image that you can dwell on over your morning coffee.  

    On the far side of the cottonwood forest is a man made meadow about fifty yards across and stretching about half a mile up river.  There is a large patch of white clover with dandelions, a few clumps of willows with wild roses and blackberries growing along the margins. Just past a narrow break of cottonwoods and willows flows the mighty Columbia. 

Western Tiger Swallowtail, Washougal Wa. June 2021

   Given the relative paucity of butterflies in greater Vancouver, we were surprised to find a large number of Western Tiger Swallowtails in this man made meadow.  Over the previous three weeks we had seen a handful of this iconic butterfly.  Here we saw dozens.  Even someone who wasn't interested in butterflies would have noticed them.  

    On our first day in the park, we saw a yellow warbler in the willows near the river and heard a large (or at least loud) woodpecker which I assumed was a pileated.  On this day we were able to approach one butterfly nectaring on blackberry blossoms.  I captured him on my cell phone camera, only to find that this image was so poor that it would never make it into the blog.  

    Back at the tiny condo, Sandra and I reconsidered our approach.  Mostly this involved charging our Panasonic Lumix and mobilizing a second pair of binoculars.  All of which leads us to yesterday.

   We returned to Clark Park on a glorious morning.  From the top of the dike Mt Hood rose majestically in the east.  We made our way through the cottonwoods into the meadow.  Once again, there were no butterflies on the low lying clover, but plenty flitting through the willows.  soon we were able to track a few butterflies nectaring on blackberry blossoms. 

The ubiquitous Song Sparrow, Washougal, Wa.  6/21

 I'm showing you my best pictures of that individual.  Obviously, I'm not going to compete with Jeffrey Pippen, but given everything this is not the worst picture ever taken of a Western tiger Swallowtail.  That one was taken the day before, lowering the bar to an acceptable level.  I nabbed the photo you see here of a song sparrow, which along with towhees constitute the most common birds in this neck of the woods.

   Eventually we sat on one of the many tables and enjoyed our lunch, during which I pulled out my cell phone.  Since it had failed in the photographic department, the phone was relegated to Google searching.  Wondering why there were so many tiger swallowtails here, Sandra had wondered just what were their host plants.  Mr. Google had a surprise in store.  Western Tiger Swallowtails may use a variety of trees for a host plant, including alders, which are common enough in Western Washington, but the plant at the top of the list is cottonwoods.  Mystery solved.  

    Western Tiger Swallowtail is one of many butterflies that hibernate in the chrysalis.  Its possible that in just the past few days, as the blackberries have started to bloom, that these handsome butterflies have emerged, stretched their wings and filled the meadows adjacent to their stands of cottonwood.  

Better to enjoy the beauty of a wild rose than the Columbia River bathers

    As we exited the park, we ran into another local phenomenon.  On the Columbia side of the willows,
there is a narrow sandy beach.  We saw not a few people hanging around in bathing suits apparently preparing for a swim.  On our way to the car, we encountered a mother with four children ages 4 through 7 each wearing a life jacket.  Those of us from Hawaii, will think that 60 degree water is less than perfect.  But apparently that is the Columbia River temperature at Portland in June and this hardy breed swims in it.  If nothing else, this will put things in perspective when I complain about cold  ocean water next winter.

 jeff

On the Trail of the Pipevine Swallowtail or a Pit Stop in Redding

    As we may have mentioned in a previous blog, there are precious few larger butterflies west of the Cascades.  Over the past few weeks we have seen about half a dozen Western Tiger Swallowtails between Portland and Seattle.  Aside from a plethora of medium sized white Cabbage Butterflies, that is it.  

California Pipevine Swallowtail, Whisketeytown NRA.

    A couple months ago we had toyed with the idea of driving south to visit my nephew Andrew and his better half, Shawn Barille, in Oakland.  This would have taken us through the Siskiyous and down into the Sacramento River Valley.  In researching this journey from the standpoint of lepidoptera, I was drawn to a picture of the Pipevine Swallowtail taken in a National Forest park in the Trinity Alps.

     I contacted the ranger at the Whiskeytown National Recreation Area, the place where this fantastic picture was taken, and he replied, saying that it was relatively easy to see the Pipevine Swallowtail in season, ie. through the end of June, and listed some five mile hikes that would take me to lush stands of pipevine and, with luck, the butterflies.  Obviously he did not recognize his correspondent as someone who watches birds the American Way, which is to say that you drive your car to the spot where you expect to see the bird and identify  the little devil without losing sight of your vehicle.  

 

 

    I then looked at the map and noted that Redding wasn't too far from those mountains.  Not only that, but the thriving metropolis actually spans the freeway.  Thinking that there might be butterflies in the vicinity, I wrote to my bird watchng colleagues at the Wintu Audubon Society.  It took a bit of convincing for me to accept that (what with the peculiar name)  this was, in fact, the Audubon Society of Redding, California,  but they had a nice web page and suggested a couple ways for me to contact members.   In a few days I got a reply from a nice man by the name of Dan Greaney who wrote:

Pipevine Swallowtail, Redding. CA.  June 2021 S. Barille photo

    Hi Jeffrey,  Pipevine and the swallowtails are all over.  One easy access is to go over the Sundial Bridge and follow the trail upriver.  Pipevine decks the fencing along the trail,

    As it turns out, the Sundial Bridge is a cute pedestrian bridge, illuminated at night, that spans the Sacramento River as it descends from the Coast Range into the valley.  It is mere minutes from the freeway and hotels appropriate for a night's stay with my sweetie.  

    Regrettably, as plans were being formulated, Shawn and Andrew were called upon to head up to Seattle at about the same time we might have been heading down to San Francisco Bay.

    All this brings us to yesterday.  I was standing in the rain looking wistfully at sailboats while the aforementioned sweetie was shopping with her lovely daughter on the mercantile end of Hayden Island in north Portland.  As I stood there, much like the Water Rat from Wind in the Willows, thinking of  just messing around in boats, who should call but Shawn ad Andrew.  They were in their SUV, driving north on I-5, just an hour south of Redding.  Suffice it to say, it didn't take long before I was imploring them to stop in Redding and look for the Pipevine and the Swallowtail.  Shawn already knew about the Sundial Bridge  (it must be the biggest tourist attraction within a fifty mile radius) so relating the instructions for finding the Pipevine Swallowtail and its eponymous host plant was a snap. 

Possibly a female Pipevine Butterfly S. Barille Sundial Bridge 6/21

   They accepted their assignment happily and, much like Carl Linnaeus, I got back in my car, out of the rain, and waited for someone else to find animals for me. 

   At this point I ask you to to be kind when comparing the Academia at Uppsala University with a 2018 Mazda 3 in north Portland.  In both cases it was probably raining.

    Talk about service with a smile.  In less than an hour I was receiving movies and still photos of the object of my desire.  The dynamic duo had no trouble finding the bridge and walking to the far side where, only steps away, there were lots of butterflies.   Andrew described the  butterflies as both beautiful and energetic.  

   Despite the vigorous flapping of wings, however, the butterflies remained close enough for some remarkable photography.  Butterflies frequently fly away before Sandra and I can snap a picture.  In Hawaii we have found that the host plant, Crown Milkweed, will keep Monarchs close by.  And some well tended flowering plants will hold the Gulf Frittilaries as they feed.   Good luck attempting a photograph of a butterfly on the wing. 

The thrill of discovery.  Andrew and Shawn at Sundial Bridge.

    Andy supplied us with the movie that you see above, which I find utterly fascinating.  I am assuming that we are looking at a pair of butterflies. In this instance, its likely that pipevine, their host plant, has drawn the butterflies to the area.   However, one of the pair is clearly engaged in nectaring on a stand of violet colored wildflowers.  The one that is not feeding is the darker of the two, the one we suppose is the male.  Look at the way he attentively flutters around his mate.  What do you suppose is keeping him in the picture? 

   Hence, Andrew's movie captures all three of the of the factors that guide the butterfly phase of these amazing invertebrates:  the host plant the caterpillars will feed upon, flowers that provide sustenance to the adult butterfly, and the chemical messengers that bring the sexes together, resulting in eggs.

  The literature suggests that among California Pipevine Butterflies the dorsal hind wing of males is more iridescent blue than the female.  According to the California Academy of Science, this is the only difference.  However, the differences we see in Shawn's pictures and the movie  are greater than that.  One butterfly, I assume the male, is just as you would expect, black with a blue dorsal hind wing.  What I believe is the female is almost a drab gray.

    Feel free to look at the picture from Whiskeytown NRA and compare that butterfly, also in resting position, with the one in Shawn's second photograph.  In both pictures we see the ventral surface of both wings. The wings of the Whiskeytown butterfly are black.  Shawn's are dusty gray.  And the spots on the hind wing are orange on the former and almost white on Shawn's.  If you look carefully at the movie, you may get a feel for the dorsal surfaces of the feeding, gray butterfly. 

    If you are not familiar with butterflies, you might think that there may be significant variation from individual to individual, but within a small geographic area, I don't believe that this is the case.  Hence, I will propose that there is greater sexual dimorphism in the California Pipevine Butterfly than the California Academy of Science would have us believe. 

   Keep in mind that Andrew's movie, and Shawn's still photos were taken with cell phones.  I think their results are amazing.

     Well, that is this week's butterfly story.    The paper mache butterfly exhibit opens later this week, so you can anticipate an exciting report.  in the meantime, keep your antennae tuned to the three Fs:  Food, Foliage and Pheromones!   

jeff

Beavers Shirt and Batman Cape.  Our grandson Reid keeps a sharp lookout for butterflies.  

                                                    Photo by Gramma Sandra