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  The water around the blind had been replaced by grass and there were no Black Phoebes or Virginia Rails.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