Mount Hood in Early June...Birds, Butterflies and the Mountain

    Caitlin LaBar had thrown down the gauntlet.  There were two rare ladies out there for the plucking.  and to see them, you needed to go to altitude.  

My new best friends.

     With that admonition to guide us, Sandra and I headed up to Mount Hood.  We picked the day that was supposed to be the best in a PNW spring of cool rainy weather.  We made it to Timberline Lodge in time to enjoy a cup of coffee while we watched the sunny day unfold on the snowcapped mountain.  Part of the fun is seeing who shows up for coffee.  That morning we were joined by a couple who sounded like they were from somewhere far away but claimed to be from Lake Oswego (the affluent suburb of Portland). 

   After I polished off two cups, it was time to take a walk outside.  My new best friends were there, and I talked them into letting me take their picture.  The gentleman introduced himself and it turned out they were originally from Mumbai.  I noted that (Bombay) was one of the world's great cities and he smiled and said that it was one of the world's biggest cities.  I guess that's why they moved to Oregon, where I suppose he works for Intel or maybe the university.  

   And, by the way, it isn't like Portland doesn't come with its own set of problems. Maybe Portland is the Bombay of the Pacific Northwest!  The Indians have Bollywood and we have Portlandia...the similarities go on and on.

Chipping Sparrows breed right up to the timberline.

    Having ascertained that the weather outside was delightful, I was able to talk my sweetie into a walk, get some of that fresh mountain air in her lowland lungs.  Almost immediately I spotted a small bird on the ground. He was working his way around fallen spruce boughs and some low-lying purple heather.  Through the binoculars I was pleased to see that this was a chipping sparrow.  Who knew this species would occur at 6,000 feet?  As we listened, I could hear its rapid trill.  What a treat.  

   We walked about a hundred yards up the trail, gaining maybe, 150 vertical feet.  From that vantage point we could look back down on Timberline Lodge with its iconic weathervane and Mt. Jefferson peaking over the roofline, less than 50 miles away as the sparrow flies.  It's a lot further by car.

   The day was getting warmer and it was time take the Caitlin LaBar challenge.  We boarded the faithful Mazda and descended half a mile and 500 vertical feet to the National Forest campground.  We made a u turn and parked outside the locked gate.  I immediately saw a butterfly, but he was gone by the time I hopped out and retrieved my net.  We plunged into action, wondering how many butterflies we would need to net before we found an American or West Coast Lady.  

An AI of West Coast Lady nectaring on Prostrate Speedwell

    While we were trooping around the emerging plants near the campground entrance, which should be a glorious aster meadow of asters in a couple weeks, I noted that the heather that I had seen above the lodge had been replaced by a low lying purple flower with light yellow centers.  I took its picture and then asked Goggle lens to identify it.  The ID came back Prostrate Speedwell.  I had to smile, in as much as this sounds like a favorable visit to the urologist.  

    Hee I am showing you one of my AI mash ups with a West Coat Lady nectaring on Protrate Speedwell.  If C. LaBar had only been correct, we could have showed you an original photo.  Quel dommage.

    Sadly, that solitary insect was a most cruel red herring.   As the gate was locked, we had the campground all to ourselves and we worked it diligently for over two hours.  In that time we saw one orange butterfly as it flew away.  We did see another chipping sparrow, but that was thin gruel when you hoped for a West Coast Lady.

A curious Gray Jay drops by for a look.

    About an hour into this futile pilgrimage, we sat on a picnic table in the shade of some spruce and Douglas Fir.  As we rested, we heard chipping Sparrows trilling and the curious call of numerous Varied Thrush.  You can imitate this call by simultaneously humming and whistling, so it's sort of a monotone melodious buzz.  The shade was nice, the warming air smelled of growing conifers, and it was just about perfect.  At that moment a pair of Gray Jays landed in the fir right by the table, 

   Is this heaven?  No, it's Oregon. (Field of Dreams, loosely)

    A bit later, Sandra decided she had had enough of this nonsense and retired to the car where a crossword puzzle and a comfy seat were preferable to futile searching.  I went across the highway to what I thought was my secret butterfly meadow up a fenced dirt road.  In what I had assumed to be my personal space, I found that the orcs had arrived and left two sawhorses and a couple large plastic pipes.  This can't be a good thing.  Are they going to drain heaven?

   Well, there were no orcs and there were just a few butterflies.  A potential lady that fled into the woods and a Sulphur, Western or Orange, that floated by ten yards away.  

Lupine Blue, Government Camp, June 2, 2026

   By the time I got back to the car, Sandra was ready for lunch.  As little was happening on the mountain we descended to Government Camp and took our picnic to the back porch of the ski school.  There, in the shade, we enjoyed the view, ham sandwiches, some apple slices and cookies. As we dined, a few small butterflies flew by, a blue and two small rufous.  

    After lunch we trooped the ski area cum meadow.  After half an hour we were about ready to give up when Sandra caught our one prize for the day.  Here you see a Lupine Blue, certified by the oracle of Longview.  We took one picture in the laboratory then moved outside where we let him crawl on a rhododendron leaf.  The outside light really improved the photo.  He opened up for about two seconds, revealing a pewter blue wing and the characteristic orange markings.  He then closed up and flew away.  

   Congrats to Sandra for saving us from a skunk. 

Here is an AI image of a Lupine Blue nectaring on a wild buckwheat flower.  Curiously, I saw this flower growing in the ski school field.  I had no idea what it was or that it might be important.  The Lupine Blue uses the buckwheat for nectaring and as a host plant.

  We had one more goal for this day.  In two weeks, we will be hosting our nephews at a condo in Welches, a resort community about ten miles down the mountain from Government Camp.  We wanted to check out the condo, so we pulled onto Welches Road and, thinking I knew the way, proceeded to drive deep into the forest.  I thought it was only going to be a mile or two, but we went much further than that.  The road got narrower and giant potholes appeared.  I felt like Frodo and his hobbit friends as they descended into the valley of the Withywindle.  I could almost hear the trees considering our doom.  Would Tom Bombadil come to save us?  

The Red-headed Sapsucker

    Finally, we reached a spot where a dozen cars were parked.  Just past this spot, an orange striped barrel indicated a pothole that extended almost all the way across the road.  We manage to get around the pothole, turn the car around and escape.  As we ascended from the valley I thought I could hear Goldberry singing, something about the master of the wood and you were lucky you didn't break an axel.  

   Back at U.S. 26, we stopped at a gas station where the attendant, who may well have been related to old Bombadil, told us that the condo, Shadowhawk, or something like that, was only a mile down the road.  We retraced our route, with only a modicum of trepidation, and found the condo.  As we parked. a red headed sapsucker flew onto the trunk of the tree right by the car.  This handsome beast is one of the three varieties of the Yellow Bellied Sapsucker and not particularly unusual in western Oregon.  Perhaps it was the shade, but this guy had a particularly red head.  

   We disembarked, found our condo-to-be and walked to the Salmon River where there is a gravel trail leading above the stream.  More adventures await.

jeff