Catherine Creek and the Harbingers of Spring

The bridge over Catherine Creek

         Yesterday I sent my guru a petulant email.  "Why", I asked," " do we have to travel so far away to see Sara's Orangetip when your book says its found everywhere?" Lucky for me, Caitlin LaBar is very patient.  She said that the orangetip might be found somewhere closer to Vancouver later in the season, but its at Catherine Creek NOW.   

     So us old folks saddled up the BOT-mobile and headed east.  White Salmon, Washington is an hour and a half east of Vancouver on curvaceous Hwy 14.  A few miles past White Salmon the expectant lepidopterist turns left on to Old Highway 8 and climbs around Rowland Lake, one of those curious little ponds created behind Bonneville Dam.  

    The Columbia behind Bonneville used to be a wild river.  Now it is a series of lakes powering our cheap hydro electricity.  The Indian fishing village at Celilo, another ten miles up the river,  was the oldest spot of continuous human habitation in North America until 1957 when the eponymous falls on the Columbia River and the village of Celilo were flooded by the waters rising behind the Dalles Dam.  There are no more falls, from which the Indians used long handled nets to catch the leaping salmon.  Exit fishing Indians, bring on the wind surfers.  

Wildflowers by Catherine Creek

    The Indians have asked the Corps of Engineers if they would mind removing the Dalles Dam, hence restoring the falls, but there is no word on that to date.  Dams have been removed recently on the Klamath River, so its possible this dam might be removed, as well. 

    A few miles on Old highway 8 brought us to the trailhead for Catherine Creek.  I hope you have developed the feeling that we were out in the middle of nowhere, for that is what Sandra and I believed.   Imagine our surprise when we were lucky to get one of the last parking spots at the Catherine Creek Trailhead.  There were over 40 cars parked here on a Monday morning. 

    I proceeded to have a conversation with some people getting ready to hike, which may have involved a fair amount of dissembling.  In any event, we were soon on our way, burdened with binoculars, cameras and net. 

A picture from the net, similar to what we saw, thanks to Bug Guide

     Caitlin wrote:  if you take the trail north of Old Hwy 8 (uphill side), but stick to the right, wrapping around the side of the hill. It’s a short uphill from the parking area, then very gradual uphill to the creek. There is a little meadowy area on either side of the creek crossing and that’s where I always see them. It’s a pretty short hike, about 0.6 mile round trip.

    Her map didn't exactly correspond to her description.  As my phone did not open her map, we went with the description which corresponded with the information provided by our fellow  (prevaricating) hikers.   We made it over the mound and down to a small bridge in short order.  We watched the small patch of wildflowers on the south side of the bridge and within a few minutes we saw at least one small ochre butterfly fluttering about.  It fluttered near us and landed.  I got a quick, but excellent, look through the binoculars. and it was off. 

Silvery Blue, Catherine Creek, April 2024

    We waited awhile and crossed the bridge.  Eventually another orangetip landed briefly and Sandra got a good look. and for orangetip butterflies, that was it.  Over the next hour we did not see another, not even one fluttering in the distance.  Thirty years ago, before the advent of digital photography, this would have been an extremely successful trip.  One is now held to a higher standard;  its better if you have a very good photograph.  

     We did meet a number of hikers, many of them with dogs.  We encountered a gentleman, Robert Berg, who claimed to be a retired biologist and an acquaintance of Caitlin's senior author, Bob Pyle.  And we saw a variety of wildflowers.

      Back on the south side of the bridge  we saw two black butterflies on the wing which Caitlin identifies as Propertious Duskywings, a big  skipper we saw in the vicinity last summer.

Wildflowers, the Columbia and Mount Hood in April

    Finally we caught one of the tiny blues that were just a bit more common than Sara's Orangetip.  He was transported and photographed and Caitlin identified it for us.  Isn't it hard to believe that I can't identify my own butterflies, even from a picture?  Anyway, she calls this unfortunate fellow a Silvery Blue.

    Bob Pyle notes, "  the luminescent silvery blue brings on spring in the open country...like Sara's Orangetip, its frequent companion."  So there you have it, spring wildflowers and butterflies on the steppe above the Columbia in April.  Who knew?

jeff

   

On the trail of Sara's Orangetip

Son, You're on your own.

        A few days ago Sandra and I moved our flag from Casa Ono to the chilly PNW.  Hard by the bend in the Columbia River, we set about doing those domestic things one does when they move, in the process developing a deep seated animosity towards the bureaucratic BS associated with Verison internet.  I'm convinced it would be easier to buy a car than complete this internet transaction.

    Yesterday, we set all that aside and headed up to Dougan Falls for some butterfly watching.  There are a couple butterflies that actually prefer these early spring days. The one we want the most is Sara's Orangetip.  Last fall, we thought we had a date with Caitlin LaBar, to be guided to this spring beauty somewhere in the vicinity of Vancouver.  But life seems to have intervened with her, as well.  

Sara's Orangetip, courtesy Brian Pfeffer

     So just like Bart, as he assumed the duties of sheriff in and around the town of Rock Ridge, we were on our own.  

   I should point out that this medium sized white butterfly, with the orange sherbet wings, is routinely described, in the butterfly literature,  as charming. Sadly, Sara's Orangetip, which used to be fairly common, if you knew how to look for it, has become the poster child for habitat destruction.  Vacant land with native plans has given way to houses.

   In the words of Kurt Vonnegut, "So it goes."

    It was a beautiful, crisp day on the upper Washougal with bright sun, blue sky and the temperature hovering at a dry 67 degrees.  The people around here call that a warm day.  The fact is, when you compensate for the lack of moisture in the air, it never gets this cold in Kona.  So, wearing our stocking caps and long johns, we made one stop after another looking for a white butterfly.  

  How do you capture an echo in a glass?

    At our furthest favorite spot we found a few Azure Echos, the tiny blue with which we have become so familiar.  I actually netted one and we proceeded to try to get a picture..  Sandra held the wine glass aloft while I attempted to get the camera to focus on the butterfly.  One of these pictures answers a question that must go back as far as Aeschylus...How to capture an echo in a glass.?

     By the way, the myth involving Echo goes like this.  Echo was a nymph, fancied by Zeus.  When the head god's wife, Hera, came looking for him, she was sidetracked by Echo, following Zeus's orders.  Once she caught on, Hera punished Echo with this curse: Echo could only speak those words last spoken to her.  Echo subsequently fell in love with narcissus, but as a consequence of the curse, she could only repeat his words of love and he fell in love with himself.

   One has to wonder at what point in his life Donald Trump encountered Echo?  And in the upcoming motion picture is Zeus's favorite nymph played by Stormy Daniels? 

Stormy looks on while Don admires his reflection, John Waterhouse

    But I digress.

   We swung around, back through the parking area at the falls, where we stopped for a walk.  Nothing was flying, not even a mouse.  Excuse me, a Mourning Cloak.   The Mourning cloak is the large handsome spring butterfly with the chocolate brown wings that solves the over wintering problem by famously crawling into a rotting stump, only to emerge when the temperature hits 67 degrees.  We had achieved all the correct parameters, and have seen a Mourning Cloak in this location in the past, but not on this day.  Que lastima.

The little blue butterfly and the Mother Ship

     And so we ended up at our most favorite spot, a mile or so up Dougan Creek.  By this time it was after noon, the sunlight was filtering through the alders, dappling the rocks and the cascading water.  It was idyllic.  But for a while, not much was happening up on the road.  

    After perhaps ten minutes, a few echo azures appeared.  We watched them for a bit and then one cooperatively landed on Sandra's blue Skecher.   So cooperative was he that I was able to take picture.  We laughed about this.  Was the tiny blue butterfly returning to the blue Mother Ship?  Was he attempting to mate with the biggest, bluest thing he could find?   We'll never know.

    We waited a bit longer, and a larger white butterfly flew up the road.  And then another flew past us. We saw no color on the wings, especially orange, but it was pretty enticing. 

    At this point Sandra began wondering why we didn't have two nets (having left one of the nets back in the Sandwich Islands).  And then she demanded a turn with the net.  In some ways she is a lot like Hera, so one messes with her at their peril.  Suffice it to say , she got the net.  

Echo Azure on Sandra's shoe, Enlarged

   And in less time than it takes to say "Donald Trump is a narcissist" she had netted a plump white butterfly.  It took only a trice for me to identify it as a Margined White. This is a butterfly that occurs in the spring and continues to appear throughout the summer, which might make you think that it ought to be fairly common.  On the contrary, this was only the second one that we had seen.  

    Curiously, our first was netted in the Yacolt Burn two years ago, and might have been the very first butterfly that we had so captured.  As such, we didn't have much of a plan about what to do next.  As it turned out, we took its picture through the net.  While it created a picture that helped identify the bug, it was, in general, less than satisfactory.  It was this experience that led us, through trial and error, to the plastic vegetable bags and the wine glass, the better to catch the Echo.  

     You see?  It all comes together.

    This time, knowing that we did not have an adequate picture of this species, we took the butterfly back to the ranch and placed it in the cooler.  After a nap, I went out and harvested a sprig of maple leaves and some tree debris.  We arranged these on a plastic cutting board, and then Sandra positioned the butterfly and I slapped a refrigerated wine glass over the little dear.  The ensemble was moved to our mantelpiece with a green folder from Fisher Investments (who kindly employ my son gainfully) as a backdrop.

margined white, P. marginalis, Dougan Creek, april 2024 Photo SKG

   Sandra, who is a very good macro photographer when motivated, delivered the coup de grace with her Samsung phone.  Et voila!

   Do we have our shit together or what?

    I don't know what you think, but I just created one of these margined Whites for the upcoming paper mache butterfly extavaganza, opening May 28th at the Cascade Park Library.  As such, I'm very familiar with what's on the internet and this, my friends, is da bomb.

   Its springtime already, so get out there and find yourself a butterfly!

jeff

Our guru, Caitlin LaBar, tells us that p. marginalis has more pronounced vein markings in the spring and fall and are nearly immaculate in mid summer.  this apparently is related to day length.    j

   

Springtime at Kahalu'u

Our resident pair of Saddlebacks swam by. April 2024

    Its springtime at Kahalu'u.  One can tell because the girls are all wearing their short summer dresses.  No.  Wait a minute.  This is Hawaii and the dress code at the beach doesn't change, be it January or July.  The way I can tell is that the water is warmer.  And this was the first day when I didn't have to wear my neoprene vest.  Springtime means freedom!

    So Sandra dropped me off and went in search of tombo.  I entered a very shallow bay through a throng of tourists and swam away in the cool, clear water.

     I worked my way towards the breakwater, when I spotted that pictus moray, with his scarred head sticking out, hunting for an unsuspecting crab, no doubt. 

Moorish Idol  Kahalu'u April 2024

   In the corner, an area that once was near the balcony of the Keahou Beach Hotel, I tracked down the resident pair of Saddle back Butterflies.  One doesn't see this happy couple every time out, but I'm sure they are there.  One of our prettiest fish is still swimming at K Bay.

   Clearly the bay was in a fishy mood, because shortly after swimming with the saddlebacks,  I had the opportunity to chase a single red labrid wrasse for a few minutes.  And then I happened upon a fine group of Moorish Idols. It's not uncommon to see a cohort of small idols, especially in the fall.  When that happens, I tend to think that I'm looking at members of the same brood.  

   These fish were close to full adult size, but still sticking together in a school.  Do you think that the bunch of them, there had to be at least eight, came from the same brood of eggs laid last summer and have stuck together for nine months?  

   I'm showing you a nice shot of a single idol out of this large group, posing as it were, in a slightly face down attitude.  And lucky me,  I got a short video to upload, so you can see, if only for six seconds, the school of idols swimming together.

    Moorish idols have to be one of the favorites among our tourists, who call them angelfish.  But I think even those of us who watch fish would be pretty bummed out if they sorta disappeared, which is far from impossible. 

Peacock Grouper K Bay 2014

    I've been snorkeling at Kahalu'u several times recently and I'm pretty sure I have not recently seen a Peacock Grouper.  This is an introduced fish, but it is big and beautiful.  And its cool the way these big guys hang out between the corals, waiting for prey to swim into range.  Just a year ago it was super common.  Kathleen, the steward of the bay, thought they were still present.  But I looked very carefully today and did not see one.  

  For those of you who are not fish watchers , I'm including a picture I took in 2014 right here in K Bay.  I'm sure you'll agree, if this beauty is no longer here, its a big loss. 

    On the bright side, I'll leave you with a sweet female Pearl Wrasse that I photographed a couple days ago, just before Kathleen Clark asserted that the grouper was still in attendance.  I hope I'm wrong and we haven't lost another fish, but in the meantime, illegitimus non carborundum.  Let's enjoy the fish we have.

Pearl Wrasse Kahalu'u April 2024

jeff

  

The Dragon Wrasse of Kahalu'u

One of our favorite movies, A Fish Called Wanda, features Kevin Kline.   In this story, about a jewel theft,  Kevin associates with a star studded cast.  Jamie Lee Curtis as the woman holding the plot together, Michael Palin as Ken, the get away driver, and John Cleese as the barrister for the accused.

And what do the English eat with chips?

    Kevin plays Otto, a demented thug.  He drives Jamie wild with desire by speaking Italian...Mussolini, spaghetti Milanense...  And towards the end of the movie he tortures KaKaKa  Ken, the getaway driver with a tremendous stutter, who also keeps a home aquarium.  Palin is bound to a chair with French fries stuffed in his nostrils while Otto interrogates him.  And to force a confession, he scoops the guppies from the aquarium one by one and sucks them down.  At one point he says, "Don't eat the green ones.  They're not ripe yet." 

    Which brings us to yesterday's snorkeling experience at Kahalu'u.  As I arrived, I admired a rare appearance of a Black Crowned Night heron on the lava reef near the shelter.  This is a native Hawaiian bird, known in Hawaiian as the Auku'u.  It survived the arrival of the Polynesians and the inadvertent introduction of rats.  On this morning he made a stunning appearance at our favorite local snorkeling beach. 

Almost immediately, as I started my snorkel, I encountered a magnificent Dragon Wrasse.  This is the spectacular juvenile of the Rockmover.  Even as the reef fish are diminished, much like the elves of Middle Earth, rockmovers, like hobbits , I suppose, persist at Kahalu'u.  In fact, of all the species we see there, they seem to be among the least affected by coral death, which is truly dramatic everywhere on the Kona Coast, no less at Kahalu'u.

 

   Other wrasses have spectacular juveniles, but this guy and the juvenile of the Yellowtail Coris are the only ones we see snorkeling.  

The Auku'u promenades at Kahalu'u

    This wasn't just any dragon wrasse.  First of all he was green, as is the case in about twenty percent of the individuals (Jeff Hill, unpublished data). 

Dragon Wrasse Kahalu'u   April 2024

    And he was big.  It is  a curiosity that this juvenile matures at different rates.  As you will see in the accompanying pictures, this guy is not only green, but quite large and retains all the features of a juvenile, which is to say the peculiar fins and "antennae " of the  dragon wrasse.  It is far from uncommon to find young rockmovers, smaller than this guy that might retain a bit of their antennae, but otherwise look entirely like small adults.  They may persist in flopping around like a juvenile.  There is speculation that the dragon wrasse are imitating a leaf of seaweed.  In the case of these transformed young adults, who are now universally clothed in a  hounds tooth brown and black, they aren't fooling anybody.  And to be honest, as big as this beautiful fish was, he wasn't fooling anyone, either.  

   So I took some pictures and a video and swam away in search of some other underwater delight.  I took a couple more pictures and then decided that the camera was operating on an altered program.  In fact, I went swimming at the pier a few days earlier and came home with pictures that were not very good.  Or perhaps they were awful.  

   Why I didn't deal with the camera then and there is a good question.   There had been nothing blog worthy on my swim and perhaps we can blame my sloth on mother nature, or climate change, which is certainly the villain of choice for this millennium. 

   I floated with the current across the bay fiddling with the camera  menus, finally accepting a re-institution of the original program, all while looking at the camera underwater.  Not an entirely unpleasant experience.  Unfortunately, after I got the camera working acceptably, there was nothing special to photograph.  Rats!

    But luck was on our side.  As I made my way to the exit, I did a little hunting and happened upon the big green dragon, performing as he did an hour earlier.  the water was still clear and I spent a happy five minutes getting the pictures and video you see here.  t

The ones we took earlier have been relegated like an inferior football club.  

    I hope you enjoyed the pictures, and I'm hopeful that as spring comes on, where ever you are, you are out seeing some good stuff.  I leave you with a single caveat, "Don't eat the green ones. they're not ripe yet!"

jeff

  the video is fantastic, but our IT department can't handle it.  C'est domage.