Wildlife opened my eyes to the Land Trust's mission

 “That’s a baby great horned owl,” my friend Craig Johnson said of the image I’d just emailed him. “These beautiful owls are breeding in your woods because you have good, healthy habitat. They’ll help keep down the rodents in your garden.”

Bubba kept us entertained all spring.

I hadn’t thought much about owls or even seen very many, though we often enjoyed their conversations in the evening and pre-dawn. I just thought the roly-poly, little guy perched on our blueberry cage was kinda cute and goofy. He was back in the same spot the next day, yawning, pacing, grooming his toes, and sleeping with one eye open.

Sue and I named the baby “Bubba” and watched him squawk and scream for dinner all spring. “Great horned owls take months to learn to hunt,” Craig said. We watched Bubba’s soft profile turn sharper as he caught slow-moving insects on the ground and gained the confidence to hunt small rodents from higher and higher perches. Bubba and his parents grew tolerant of me and my camera, letting me approach as often as I liked.

As Sue and I became better observers, we delighted in the other newborns in our woods: woodpeckers, coyotes, hawks, deer, raccoons, songbirds, rabbits, squirrels, bats, lizards, snakes, butterflies, and frogs. We were astounded to learn we had flying squir­rels but had never seen them because they fly at night. We became attuned to the birds’ voices, and the more we opened our eyes and ears, the more joy we took in them. We learned that the same individual humming­birds migrate back to our yard every spring, and started taking special pains to keep our hummingbird feeder fresh and clean.

We realized how poor our lives would be without wildlife, including the long-lived orcas and gray whales that visit our shores every year, and the salmon that are our icon. All wildlife need healthy habitat, and if we don't consciously preserve a place for them to live, we will carelessly destroy it - and them. 
 
We knew we were not alone in these feelings and discovered that many of our friends belonged to the Whidbey Camano Land Trust. They shared a passion and sensitivity that inspired us. I don’t remember even discussing with Sue whether to join; we just did. The Land Trust was where we belonged, and we’ve been members for many years now. Nothing makes us prouder than to be among Land Trust people, our most cherished friends and neighbors, at the summer picnic or on a land tour.

Decades from now, if Bubba’s offspring still live and breed in our woods, we will know we were good stewards. We are committed to this work not only for Bubba’s sake, but for those future generations of humans who will spend the best years of their lives finding peace, rejuvenation and inspiration right here at home.

Note: The woods are alive right now with returning Rufous Hummingbirds, baby owls, newborn woodpeckers and the din of chirping! Courtship is under way in a big way and it's a marvelous time.  I published this piece originally on a blog of Whidbey Camano Land Trust that is no longer maintained. Rediscovering it the other day, I realized the sentiments remain more true than ever.

Make my day, Short-eared Owl

Cruising down the beach.

The light was bad, the day was blah, I was cold, the place was dead, nothing was flying and I was out of time.  I had been walking quietly  along the backshore at Keystone Spit with my camera and was going to write off the day as birdless.

In fact I had just turned back toward my car when this Short-eared Owl took wing in front of me.  I snapped many blurry images while the lone focal-point of my telephoto scanned the empty, white sky, trying to lock onto the bird.

Watching me.

Short-eared Owls are a special treat. In my forest setting at home I see only Great-horned Owls and Barred Owls.  My only Short-eared sightings have been at Keystone. 

I was on my way to seven hours of meetings in Coupeville and had left home a few minutes early to swing past this area on the long-shot chance I might stumble upon a migrating Snowy Owl.

Short-eared Owls are right at home in the wide-open landscape around the Keystone Ferry Terminal. They favor open grasslands where they can fly low and hunt rodents, particularly voles. These owls will hunt not only at night but also during the day. This one seemed to favor the beach and certainly was not sleeping.

Still watching me through the tall grass.

As always, the challenge when photographing birds is not to disturb or stress them. This one never took its eye off me, so I kept my distance. There were no memorable images from this outing, but simply seeing the owl made my day.

It kept me smiling and happy through seven hours of meetings in hard, straight-backed chairs.

Finding a vision for island living

Our vine maple, one of nature's weed trees.

I love this season of colorful vine maples and ripening huckleberries in our half-wild back yard. We live in a forest setting so you might say the view never changes – just trees and sky.

But what's changing constantly for Sue and me are the birds and wildlife that come and go all day.

We look up and see deer grazing or a coyote slinking across the yard. We check a certain tree overlooking our orchard and find Bubba, our owl friend, sleeping off a hard night. And we dodge fir cones the squirrels rain down on us as they strip the trees to stockpile reserves for the winter. 

A Cedar Waxwing brings salal berries to its young in our yard.

Moving here from the city in the 1980s my intentions for the yard were quite different. My dream was to eradicate the native brush and rotting snags and replace them with a weedless, sterile lawn and the kinds of flowers I’d admired for years in city yards.

With power tools and poisons, I would conquer every square inch of our yard, rid our view of huckleberries, pave our gravel road and plant a rose garden.

This season's huckleberries are plumping up right now.

I asked a local nursery about chemicals to kill weeds and moss, grow grass, and stamp out fungus and Black Spot. To my surprise, they answered as non-judgmentally as they could that they didn’t carry poisons or encourage their use.

It took me a long time to get that it isn't a step forward to conquer and replace nature -- just the opposite. Huckleberries and salal are a magnet for the birds and animals that now bring beauty and mystery to our lives every day. These hardy bushes provide shelter to ground-nesting birds,  rabbits and voles, which attract other wildlife to our yard to hunt.

A Red-breasted Sapsucker eats our huckleberries.

Some might say an old, rotting snag is ugly, but it’s beautiful if you love the sensational Pileated Woodpeckers that come to jackhammer it.   

Last summer we watched elegant Cedar Waxwings feed their gangly newborns in a tree by our deck. And we delighted when Northern Flickers brought their vulnerable young to peck ants from our crumby lawn, which is riddled with dandelions the rabbits eat. Every winter, our berry-laden bushes attract colorful visitors such as Red-breasted Sapsuckers to brighten the view outside our windows.

Like many other people, we put out a hummingbird feeder each spring to welcome the tiny Rufous Hummingbirds that migrate thousands of miles to return here -- specific individuals often showing up in the same yards where they were banded in past years! But we don't kid ourselves. We know they aren't here for a few cups of sugar water in a plastic dish. They come in droves for the blossoming salmonberry bushes that grow wild in the woods.

This Varied Thrush had a winter feast on our crabapples.

The wild creatures are a huge part of our quality of life. It's one of the reasons Sue and I support Whidbey Camano Land Trust in their work to preserve farms, forests and other healthy habitat.

I've gradually learned we don’t have to control everything. Better to leave nature alone as much as reasonably possible so it can create something beautiful. If we interfere too much, we’ll just screw it up and make a poorly-functioning, problematic mess.

Sue and I were guests recently at the waterfront home of a gracious couple who live on a high bluff overlooking Puget Sound. They watch boats all day.  They are enjoying their golden years dining on crabs and salmon they catch from their own boat in front of their own home. It’s the Puget Sound dream!

What could be healthier than fresh salmon?  Well, just not too much, too often, because the flesh might be somewhat toxic. The experts say it's probably safe in moderation, but be careful if you're pregnant or nursing. That's the flip side of the Puget Sound dream.

This handsome young coyote had a sweet tooth for Gravensteins.

Our friends' view is breathtaking.  But as is typical of high-bluff properties, they have a long pipe called a tight-line that carries roof runoff including any moss-killing products down the bluff to the beach, where forage fish lay their eggs. Salmon feed voraciously on those forage fish, to the extent that they hatch and survive.

This couple’s pride is their perfect front yard, a fairyland of manicured beds, interconnecting lawns, vegetable plots and winding paths. They've cleared the trees and brush and scraped away centuries of ground cover.

"Bubba," the Great-horned Owl, is our rodent police.

Now to their dismay, their new lawn is sprouting buttercups – even after they applied weed-n-feed. Their vision is to gaze at a deep, lush carpet of green, so they asked us about products to kill the broadleafs.

“It depends on your values and vision,” I blurted, then instantly regretted the edge in my voice. The last thing I wanted to do was attack the wonderland our hosts had worked so hard to create.

What I wanted to explain is that beauty means different things to different people. I’ve come to believe the most beautiful and joyful thing in my world is to live in a place that is healthy for wildlife and humans.  Buttercups aren’t so bad. Weeds grow where we disturb the soil, but not where nature runs the show.

Even this guy makes us smile.

Plants need excessive watering when we introduce the wrong ones. Leave nature alone and it will choose the right, drought-tolerant plants. Grass is a good ground cover for septic drain-fields but not much else when you live in a climate of dry summers and moss-promoting winters.

Of course most people don't have the space to live quite as wild as we do. But even in a built-up neighborhood -- in fact especially there -- why not steer away from chemicals?  Keep some natural ground cover and pursue a different vision. Offer the wildlife a sliver of wild habitat, safe food and clean water.  If we all do that, our earth and marine waters will be healthier.

Blacktail deer bring quiet grace to our forest setting.

To me, a few yellow flowers in a lawn aren’t ugly; they’re beautiful. They make a statement about what's really important versus just cosmetic.

They are a sign the birds can bring their young to eat from that lawn without getting poisoned, and that we aren’t poisoning the ground from which we draw the previously-used water we drink every day of our lives.

Everything is connected. Beauty is more than skin deep -- much, much more.

Living Off the Land on a Rainy Day

These eyes don't miss much.

I like rain. This is good because, if I didn't, I might be miserable. Still, yesterday's relentless downpour tested my patience. It was a good day for writing because what else could one do? We live off the beaten track anyway and few visitors show up here.

My first clue that we had company was a high-pitched squeal in the yard that translated roughly, "I'm being murdered." I've heard it before and it was likely a small rabbit. The perpetrator had to be a raptor, and when I slid open my window for a look, a Great-horned Owl (GHO) took flight from the ground just outside my office.

Yep, everything ok back there, too.

GHOs are common in our woods and I call them all Bubba. This one flew to a high branch of a nearby fir and waited for me to lose interest. I gave him plenty of space and he hung around all day, sometimes moving closer and other times pulling back to taller trees on the forest edge.

Last evening when it was almost too dark to take more pictures he moved to the very top of a flimsy, 20-foot fir, from which he could strike the ground fast. I hope he dined well last night on rodents, of which we have too many in our garden. In recent years voles have really tested our ability to grow vegetables.

Calculating the odds of a kill.

For years I lived here without seeing a Great-horned Owl. Now I see them all the time.  I don't think it's because they're doing anything differently; just that I've learned to pay better attention. They are silent and still. They favor specific trees with a nice view of open areas for hunting.

My best clue to their presence is the racket of other birds trying to drive them away or, as happened yesterday, the last cry of a rodent that was careless or oblivious.

The beauty of these birds never ceases to move me. They live alongside us mostly unseen, most of the time.  Yet whenever Bubba comes to visit for a day or to stay the night in our yard, he makes my heart glad.