A Superb Alpine Meadow Near Timberline, Oregon

    Butterfly season was tapering down.  We had seen nothing at Dougan Falls, and Sue Anderson in Eugene, told us that we were several weeks late for California Sister.  We had been counting on going back to Peterson Prairie for the fritillary extravaganza, but Caitlin LaBar reported that the show there was already past its prime, and the butterfly we most wanted to see, the Mormon Fritillary, had done its deed and retired for the season.  She did note that the Mormon Frit is a high altitude butterfly and looking near timberline at Mount Rainier or Mount. Hood could still be worthwhile.  The higher you go, the later the wildflowers and butterflies appear. 

Mount Hood soars above Alpine Campground, August 2023

    With this bit of news as a carrot, the following morning Sandra and I hopped into the Bot-mobile and headed up to Mount Hood.  The ride up was surprisingly easy and we made it to our first stop, the Mirror Lake Trailhead by 9:30. We dawdled around for a bit; 9:30 is just too early for a self respecting butterfly.  By 10 we were on the trail and after half a mile were disappointed to find that this was going to be a hike through a forest, with no butterfly habitat.  

    Past Government Camp we tried Snow Bunny, where we had seen Green Commas in May.   There were some wildflowers, but either it was too early in the day or, from a butterfly point of view, too late in the season. And so we pointed the car uphjll and headed towards Timberline.  The road climbs steeply; its just under 4,000 feet at Government camp and 6,000 feet at Timberline Lodge.

A Painted Lady nectars on the asters.

   As we climbed, we saw a few clumps of wildflowers, but no butterflies.  Almost to Timberline, right at the 1 mile marker, we were suddenly blessed with a meadow of purple and yellow flowers that paralleled the road for at least 100 yards.  And lo and behold, at the upper edge of this alpine meadow was a dirt entrance to a National Forest campground.   I backed into the first camping spot, stepped out of the car and a dark orange butterfly shot by.  Eureka!

   The target butterfly for this trip was the Mormon Fritillary   It occurs at lower altitudes, like Peterson Prairie, but by frit standards, it is a high altitude butterfly. Luckily it has three morphologic features which separate it from the similar zerene and coronos. It is significantly smaller, has rounded wings and it is less orange, sometimes bronzy in coloration. 

   The meadow was so beautiful.  Expanses of purple asters mixed with yellow monkey flower,  and nestled against the spruce forest.  By now it was almost 11:00. Occasionally one of the medium sized butterflies would shoot by.  We were able to appreciate the rounded wings, and the size was suggestive of mormonia, but the darn things wouldn't hold still for a picture and the few opportunities we got with a net were unsuccessful.  

Painted Lady and Asters.

    We walked down the dirt road for about 100 yards, appreciating at least seven camp sites, all with picnic tables.  The forest service had placed small red flags in the fire pits to discourage use.  And we did continue to see those medium sized butterflies.  Finally I crept in to get a shot at one perched beneath a spruce.  He eluded my camera, but I did get a good look at his ventral hind wing, which as we know, tells the story with fritillary butterflies.  It had an array of spots consistent with the Mormon Frit.  

    As we walked back to the car we enjoyed views of Mt. Hood between the towering trees.  Once at the car, we saw a beautiful butterfly with lots of white spots in the adjacent meadow.  I stalked among the asters and one landed by my feet, slowly opening and closing its wings while nectaring.  My cell phone sufficed to get some good pictures.  Back at the car, the butterfly book confirmed that this was a Painted Lady.  You may recall that three weeks ago we saw this butterfly at James house, roughly 1200 feet elevation.  A few days later all the butterflies in his neighborhood had disappeared.  

Painted Lady under glass.

    We watched the ladies for a while and Sandra, coming from a hunting tradition, netted one.   Curiously, we saw no more of those medium sized frits while we ate lunch.  following our al freso repast we headed up to Timberline Lodge.

   It is only a third of a mile from Alpine Campground to the beginning to the Timberline complex.  This might be considered walking distance if you really enjoy a steep uphill walk.  From the fork in the road it is another quarter mile up to the lodge and the new day use building.  We encountered this handsome new edifice on our spring fling when we spent a night in the lodge.  I did not go in, but it surely boasts the sort of facilities (clean restrooms, possibly showers) that we did not see at the Alpine Campground.  On this warm mid-week day the lodge parking lot was extremely busy and we just drove through, back to our peaceful meadow.  

    I took one more stroll through the campground and spotted a small orange butterfly, surely a Western Meadow Fritillary on my walk. The contrast with the hub bub at the lodge was remarkable.  

    Back home we had a chance to photograph Sandra's Painted Lady.  Some butterflies simply don't settle even when refrigerated and that was the case with this beauty.  As a consequense, most of our pictures were taken with the butterfly under a stemless wine glass.  We found that when Sandra rattled the butterfly just a bit, he would flap and then, as he settled,, afforded us a look at his red markings on the ventral front wing.  In modeling vanessa butterflies, this is a very useful look.  Compare it with the picture taken not under the glass, which may be a bit sharper.  

   After the photo session, the butterfly flew off in the direction of Mount Hood.  Painted Ladies are famous fliers and I think maybe he made it back to Alpine Campground. 

    If you are of the camping persuasion, a site here is $25, assuming someone comes around to collect it.  There is a gate which may be closed in the evening.  It is a slice of alpine peace and beauty and perfect for August butterflies.

jeff

   

 

 

The Denizens of Dougan Creek

       On Friday Sandra and I made one of our regular forays to the Upper Washougal..  Traveling a bit further than usual, up to 1300 feet elevation, we were unable to do better than the small ruddy skipper that we have been seeing in the area. 

Juba Skipper, Livingston Mountain, August 2023

 To the best of my ability, this humble butterfly is a Juba Skipper.  As far as butterflies went,  this ruddy little stub kept us from being skunked.  Not what you would call a sterling day for the old lepidoptera.

   As we descended along the river, I spotted a chunky grouse on the side of the road. She let us cruise by slowly as she meandered into the roadside weeds.  This was a Blue Grouse, now known as a Dusky Grouse.   This bird was once common, but at least in my current meanderings, it is unusual.  We saw one just after dawn on Mount Rainier last summer, so I now have a two year streak going on Blue Grouse.  Or is it Dusky Grouse?

    Of course, be it blue or dusky, this bird comes with an anecdote.

    When my son was courting the mother of my grandchildren, he was driving with his future father in
law in the hills near Roseburg, Oregon.  They happened upon just such a blue grouse and the pater familias leaped from the cab and dispatched said grouse with his handy shotgun.  This may explain why we don't see many blue grouse.  It also explains why the Recoubtable SKG discourages me from confronting pickup driving rednecks in the Fred Meyers parking lot.  I mean, how would I look, recumbent in a broiling pan packed with a savory stuffing?

    Or to quote Washout from the teenage classic Hotshots, "If it helps, I didn't have seconds."

   The grouse went a ways towards justifying the expedition as we proceeded past Dougan Falls, turning up the creek towards our favorite picnic spot.  When we got there, we discovered that someone had pitched a rather nice tent right where we park for our al freso afternoon meal..  The audacity of some people!  

   Well, we brought the boat about and found a different wide spot in the road where we enjoyed our sandwiches while not seeing any butterflies.  It has rained exactly one day in the last two months, so this may explain the lack of both wildflowers and butterflies.  

    Sandra was feeling lazy, so she let me go off by myself, wandering past the interloper's tent and down to the creek.  When I got there, I discovered that the campers had left a plastic box, the type in which you store unused sweatshirts.  As I  approached, I could see rocks and water in the box.  And when I peered inside, I was treated to a surprising aquarium.  The campers, presumably including some curious children, had collected a variety of northwest aquatic wildlife.  They had a few fish, some water boatmen, a crawdad and three brown salamanders.

Stop Grousing about the lack of butterflies!

     Not being a child myself, I have not seen these animals for many years.  But, hard to believe, I was young once.  Way back then, even in the little creeks in Vancouver, we found crawdads.  My son tells me that  they found them in the creeks around Salem, but by that time (I was 40, for crying out loud) I was  too old to dabble in the mud. 

   The first sign that you are getting old is that you include gardening in your list of hobbies.  That you exclude mud dabbling from the list is another tell tale sign. 

     Taxonomists tell us that this crawdad was a Signal Crayfish, P. leniusculus.  Crayfish are closely related to lobsters, making them eminently edible if a bit small, and occur only in freshwater.  There are three invasive species of crayfish found in Eastern Washington, but this was almost certainly the native endemic from my childhood.

A plastic box on Dougan creek opens a trove of memories.

    My history with the salamander is shrouded in mystery.   Sixty years ago I was a Boy Scout.  As I recall, our troop would take camping trips to Silver Star Mountain, the highest spot in Clark County.  Needless to say, the camping trip was usually accompanied by a hike.

     The campground of my memory was across the road from a ranger station with a choice location...right beside a stream with a waterfall. And, you guessed it, in the pool below the falls there were salamanders.   The scouts caught these salamanders, which were fairly large, dark brown and totally aquatic, bearing obvious gills.  I can't recall for sure if the scouts of Troop 400 tortured these salamanders, or if it was different scouts and salamanders somewhere else. 

    As it turns out, there is just such a waterfall, Hidden Falls, near Silver Star, only seven miles as the crow flies from Dougan Creek.  But at this point my memory and the facts part company.  There is no road to Hidden Falls and there has never been a ranger station there. Only two things are certain: I didn't especially like the long hike and there were definitely brown aquatic salamanders.

Salamanders and a Crawdad, Dougan Creek August 2023

   The Burke Museum at the University of Washington (Go Huskies!) tells us these are Cope's Giant Salamanders, D. copei.  Despite being "giant" they achieve only a whopping eight inches.  They are almost entirely aquatic, a condition known as paedomorphosis. 

     Only a few metamorphosed adults have been found in the wild.  Scientists, who are at least as likely to torture salamanders as any boy scout, have been able to induce metamorphosis by exposing the salamanders to thyroid hormone.   What one then does with a metamorphosed Cope's Giant Salamander is anybody's guess.  Probably brain it with a piece of driftwood, ala the boy scouts, or, being scientific, toss it into jar of ever clear. This is what is known as your tax dollars at work.  

   But I digress.  The salamanders are endemic, living in the cool mountain streams of Western Washington.  With any luck they escape the notice of small children, boy scouts and scientists. They harbor under rocks during the day and emerge in the evening to forage on the bottom of streams. 

   Neither the crawdads nor the giant salamanders are threatened.  Regrettably, the same can not be said for my aging memory!  So get out there and create some memories of your own, before its too late

jeff