Ridgefield NWR in Summer

     With Oregon in the throes of horrific forest fires, more than one threatening our favorite butterfly locations, Sandra and I turned our attention to a local favorite, the Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge.  We arrived at the refuge at about 10 AM.  The sky was blue, which is a heck of a lot better than smoky and the temperature was a pleasant 65 degrees.  That is great for birds and people with light jackets but may be a trifle brisks for butterflies. 

Wild and Crazy Great Blue Heron, photo SKG

     As we previously noted, the refuge has numerous shallow ponds for waterfowl and waders that provide a roadside attraction in the spring.  However, by the time June rolled around those ponds had dried and it was more work to see fewer species. 

    As we approached the refuge, we were slowed by a lady taking a picture of a Great Blue Heron perched on the railing of the bridge we cross to get in.  As we started our tour through the refuge, Sandra got this picture of a wild and crazy heron from the car.

    For some time, as we made the drive, there were patches of tall grass, but mostly expanses of dried lake beds with little to offer the bird watcher.  

   We finally made it to the trail and to the blind, which was so productive in the spring.  On the way in, we had a very good look at a Western Wood Peewee.  This bird has a name that might produce a few minutes of amusement to six-year-old boy, but not too much else to recommend it. Small, brownish, with a lighter belly, no eye ring and dusky wing bars,   Aside from voice and habits, like tail raising, that is how we identify small flycatchers.

         A Black Headed Grosbeak female with breakfast.  AI

 In the blind, we saw a mother swallow come to feed her single remaining chick.  The water around the blind had been replaced by grass and there were no Black Phoebes or Virginia Rails.  On the trail back to the car, I spotted a pair of house wrens.  Wrens are more interesting than Song Sparrows, which was the only other birds we saw along the trail.  

   We drove a bit further and were pleased to note that the Kiwa Trail was now open.  This is one of only two spots where you are encouraged to get out of your car and walk through the forest.  The trail had been closed through the spring and early summer, ostensibly to protect breeding birds.  If you are a birdwatcher, you know that spring and early summer are exactly the time you go out looking for song birds.  That is when the males are singing from exposed perches and parents are moving around, gathering food for the chicks. 

    I suppose that I'm all in favor of protecting breeding birds.  To take the opposing position would be like affirming your belief in child abuse.  Which I'm definitely against.  But as a bird watcher, it seems excessively counter productive.  I mean, what are we?  Blood thirsty pirates on a rampage to rob nests?

Common Jewelweed, Ridgefield NWR, August 2026 

    We parked in the lot designated for the Kiwa Trail.  The trail head is defended by a really sturdy gate, the better to protect breeding birds.  We passed these forbidding portals and found ourselves on a well-maintained trail through small parcels of forest, ponds and fields.  Imagine all the birds singing in late May.  In early August it was pretty quiet,  

   The sun was out, and it was getting warmer.  We walked ahead for about fifty yards when I spotted a large sparrow in an alder beside one of those ponds.  We got good looks through binoculars at a female Black Headed Grosbeak feeding on blackberries.  The vine wound up through the alder twenty feet above the pond. I had been feeding on blackberries just moments before, so I had a lot of empathy for the grosbeak.  As every boy who lives in southwest Washington knows, blackberries in August are delicious.  

    In honor of the best bird Sandra and saw on this outing, I created an AI image so you could revel vicariously through our experience.  Gemini and I had a dispute about how much yellow is in the belly and eyeline of a female Black Headed Grosbeak. (Gemini wanted more yellow.) The first image Gemini threw out was probably the most realistic looking, but I insisted on getting the colors right and I hope you still enjoy the picture.  

    And I hope you are able to get out this summer and enjoy some blackberries. 

    Luther Burbank, back in 1885, imported some seeds from India.  Inside the packet was a living sprout of what we now call Himalayan Blackberry.  Although this plant originated in the Levant and grows all over Europe, this famed agronomist, in his Santa Rosa garden, seems to have been unacquainted with it and assumed it came from northern India.  Hence the name and berry that we all know and love.   Unless, that is, the thorny vines have taken over your back yard, in which case you may not love them quite so much.   

    Back by the pond, right beside my perch, my eye was captured by a single orange blossom.  As I looked carefully, I saw that this flower was cup shaped with frilly petals at the opening and subtle purple dots inside the cup.  It was delightful and we have a chance to share our photo of Common Jewelweed.  This plant is native to the eastern US.  It has spread sporadically across the country, so it is much less common than Burbank's Folly.  It produces these lovely orange cups in the summer, as opposed to the spring.  It grows in shady moist soils.   Perfect for Ridgefield NWR.  

Woodland Skipper, Ridgefield NWR

    As we got ready to head back down the trail, Sandra spotted a small orange skipper, then we saw a bunch.  Being a veritable Nimrod, it was hardly a moment before she had one in her net.  With one in the bag, it wasn't long before we had a chance to take a picture of one of the skippers on a low lying thistle.  Here you see the photo we took back at the laboratory of this Woodland Skipper. The only other butterfly on the day was a Western Tiger Swallowtail.  So not much for butterflies.

    On our way out we saw veritable legions of Common Egrets.  This bird has always been around, but if you saw one or two on morning of birding, you felt like you had done well.  And what are all these tall white birds eating?  Small fish, unfortunate frogs.  Kermit beware!  

jeff
 

Dougan Falls and the Great Spangled Fritillary

       Last Friday Sandra and I made the drive up to Dougan Falls.   The Washougal is not nearly as full as it is earlier in the year, but as we shall see, there is still plenty of water going over Naked Falls.  As is our custom, at Dougan Falls we made the right turn, heading up the Washougal.  We drove the three bumpy miles on gravel and stopped at our best butterfly spot, the weedy car park.  It was still early and although there were lots of wildflowers, which was a pleasant surprise for the last day ii July, there were no butterflies out yet.  

Woodland Skipper, Naked Falls, July 2026

   We made it up to Scout Creek, a couple miles and another three hundred vertical feet higher, and, as the morning warmed up, we watched a few butterflies there.  Scout Creek was now completely dry.  There were a few thistles in the dry river bed that did not attract any insects while I watched.  Right by where we park the car, Sandra captured a Woodland Skipper. 

    This is the common skipper at this time of year, and we saw lots of them. When they lie flat on a thimbleberry leaf, or what counts for flat in this family of skippers, you can easily appreciate the orange and dark chocolate dorsal wing pattern.  The picture I'm showing you, taken back at the ranch is a lateral, showing the ventral wing pattern, which is not very pretty.  Of course, pretty is in short supply in most species of skippers. 

    Before we left, I chased a medium sized butterfly up the road without getting a very good look and we enjoyed some late season Parnassians flopping about as they will.

Great Spangled Frit, Naked Falls, July 2026 

    Back down at the weedy car park, it was now close to 11 AM and things were warming up.  Just sitting in the car, we could see several larger orange butterflies zipping back and forth among the wildflowers.  It was fairly easy for me to catch one of these Great Spangled Fritillaries as it nectared on one of many thistles.  We got a fine look at it in the net...the silver spots on the ventral hind wing were dramatic.  Unfortunately, when we got it home, the silveriness had faded and, as you can see, those spots look white.  Quelle domage!

    I got a pretty nice picture of a great spangled spread out in the weeds.  t

The few times I tried to sneak up on one on a thimbleberry leaf (a much prettier picture), he flew away before I could snap the shutter.

   We are told that most cell phones do not have an actual shutter.  Behind the lens, there is a digital sensor that is continually receiving the image.  When you touch the shutter button, the camera is instructed to start and stop recording the light data.  It records the image really fast in rows of pixels from top to bottom.  I like to program my phone camera to simultaneously emit a shutter-like noise.  As we have seen, this is nothing but an aesthetic sound effect...there is no shutter.

  For scientific purposes the pictures we took back in the laboratory are vastly superior.  Here you see a dorsal picture of this brave fellow stretched out on Schmoopie's lovely hand.  

    We took several pictures of him in the lateral position.  By touching him just so, my lovely assistant was able to induce our friend to rotate his front wing forward and spread them just a bit to create this wonderfully handsome and useful image you see here.  Getting a look at the entire front wing is a bit of a trick.  

    And for completeness sake, I'm including our best photo of him in the lateral position showing off the pattern on the ventral hind wing.  As above, most of the spots that appear white in this photograph were quite silvery when the butterfly was first captured.  There are a select few who are able to squeeze the abdomen just so, impeding the flow of butterfly blood back to the thorax, rendering the butterfly more cooperative for a picture in the field.  My lovely assistant is unwilling to squeeze the butterfly (and who can blame her!).  And we just don't know if, in the process of impeding blood flow one would cause those silvery spots to blanche.  

    Regardless, what you see is what you get.

    The day was moving along.  There were plenty of Woodland Skippers and a few Clodius Parnassians flapping their large white wings.  Sandra had retired to the air conditioned comfort of the faithful Mazda, and I was still out trying for one more butterfly.

    On the far side of the car park, where the thistles were attracting the great spangles to a remarkable effect (there were now five chasing one another to and fro), there were other wildflowers. Fireweed, of course, with its tall violet blooms.  And another wildflower that we hadn't seen before.  This was an herb on long, branching stems.  There were relatively small white, daisy-like blossoms with yellow centers on each stem.  

    As I watched, a larger blue butterfly landed on one of these flowers.  I was pretty close, armed only with my net...no camera.  He was just far enough in, about six feet, that I couldn't reach him.  He flitted to another blossom a few feet away, still out of reach.  All this time I was getting good looks but no bug.  Back at the ranch, I attempted to name the butterfly and this new wildflower.    The butterfly was clearly in the Lupin/Acmon family.  Without the insect in hand, it would be impossible to tell which. 

A Buckwheat Blue on Oxeye Daisy AI

    The flower grew in large groupings.  The stems were about three feet in height and branching.  The flowers were about an inch across, white petals with yellow orange centers.  I originally thought this might be chamomile, which is introduced, and grows wild in the Pacific Northwest.  However, after some research on AI and in Wildflowers of the Pacific Northwest, by Turner and Gustafson, a field guide that Sandra has recently collected and I may now recommend, I decided that this was Oxeye Daisy.  It's a common herbaceous plant in the late spring and summer in Oregon and Washington and a known source for nectaring butterflies.

   Here I present the image I created of the Epothilones blue butterfly on the Oxeye Daisy.  It's totally AI and so useless for the purposes of identification.  Maybe we should print it and sell it on Etsy. 

    The drive out was an eye opener.  We must have seen thirty cars parked along the Washougal, with countless people prepared to make the hike down the steep bank, many carrying those large inner tubes that are all the rage.  And we met about two dozen more cars driving in.  And this was about noon on a Friday.  The Dougan Falls area is hoppin'.

    Lastly, I'm leaving you with a snapshot Sandra took through the car window while doing her crossword puzzle, in air-conditioned comfort:  Demented Lepidopterist Rampant!

Jeff