Contemplating the not too distant future

Well, I’ve been at Harris Beach a little over two months now, and the original plan was for me to leave in another month.  I’m thinking the middle of August just might be a little early in the year to be heading for southern California, although I’m more than anxious to see what my site at Jojoba Hills looks like in person.  I think I’ll see if the park here would mind if I stayed until after Labor Day. 

Being in between visitors, I’ve had plenty of time to think about my upcoming winter plans.  I’ve got lots of questions floating around in my brain.  For the last nine years I’ve done an awful lot of volunteering where all of my utilities are paid for.  In between volunteer stints, I generally stay at private parks or COE campgrounds where electricity is included in the nightly or weekly fee.  Now I have to think about having metered electricity.

I wonder what it will cost per month.  I’m a real newbie in that department.  The going rate at Jojoba is .21 cents per KWH.  I’m not sure if that means 21 cents per KWH or 21/100ths of a cent per KWH.  I’m not even sure what a KWH is and how amps used to power things relates to that.  I have figured out that running the air conditioner uses 14 amps while using the heat pump uses 20-24 amps.  I don’t know why they’re different since they use the same machine.  Does anyone know if budgeting $100/month for a 50 amp rig is reasonable?  I do like to be cool in hot weather, and warm in chilly weather these days, so I’m sure I’ll use more electricity than I would have say five years ago.

I had an unusual avian visitor at the overlook the other day.  I think it was a racing pigeon that somehow got off course or tired out.  There is a band on its left leg.  It just sat there resting for the longest time until some kids climbed up the steep rock to scare it away.  Made me wonder where it came from, and where it was supposed to go.

Then on another work day, I got the treat of seeing a male orange-crowned warbler singing away in the bushiness below my station. 

What a surprise to have it pop out into the sunlight and pose for me.  They’re normally moving along so fast in the undergrowth that you only get fleeting glimpses, and never before have I actually seen the orange feathers that are usually hidden on its crown.  These warblers that live along the coast are also much more yellow than the populations found inland.

I suppose he was just taking a moment to beautify himself for the ladies, and didn’t expect anyone to be watching him from above. 

I’ve got two more days of work ahead of me before I hop in the car to drive to Medford, OR, to pick up Robyn and the grandgirls at the airport.  I’m excited about their visit.  It seems every time either of these two little whippersnappers come to visit some minor little thing in the rig gets broken.  I wonder what it will be this time…

Thanks for stopping by… talk to you later,  Judy

Some thoughts on becoming crotchety

When I was a kid growing up on the northwest side of Chicago, our neighborhood had some older folks that as a kid I thought were downright crotchety.  Mrs. Bites on one side of us thought I shouldn’t play baseball because I was confirmed.  Mr. Krawl, on the other side of us, called my sister and I G. D. Hoodlums because we played Canasta in the evening before bed, and laughed a lot.  (our bedroom was on the second floor and we had the windows open on hot summer nights… no AC in those days)  Numerous neighbors including those two had fits if we even set foot on their precious grass blades.  They were definitely crotchety!

It’s been a long time since I’ve spent any extended time camping in a very popular state park, and I have to admit that at times it’s been a challenge for me here at Harris Beach.  This place is jam packed every night with barely an empty site anywhere.  That’s a lot of folks making noise and enjoying their vacations.  I’ve become accustomed to the quiet and peacefulness of our National Wildlife Refuges over the last nine years, and this is a bit of a rude awakening.

Last night was a real corker.  Picture this:  A large family moves into a site a ways down the road.  Out comes a big speaker and microphone, and every person in that group takes their turn belting out tunes that can be heard over the whole campground.  I’ll just say they weren’t exactly the Von Trapp Singers, by the way.  Ugh!  During the several hours that they carried on, I was trying to prepare for my evening program presentation at the amphitheater.  It was hard to concentrate.

As that group took a break to eat, the five sites across from me began to warm up for the evening.  They’ve been here all week, and every evening is loud.  Besides all the adults, there are about 42 kids and 15 yapping dogs, and I’m honestly not sure that’s an exaggeration.  First there was the ear splitting belly dancing music, and then the screaming shouting and dancing began.  To add to the chaos, the diesel rig directly across from me began blasting its horns along with the music. 

As I set up my stuff for the presentation, Ranger Angela went over to speak to the group and ask them to tone it down, and stop blowing the horn.  We were concerned that no one could hear the program with all the noise.  They did comply. 

A family with youngsters arrived a little early, but were happy to wait until one of the members of the noisy group came into the amphitheater to confront Angela and demand that she give him her full name so he could lodge a formal complaint.  This man was in such a fury, that the waiting family was scared into leaving.  He accused Angela of discriminating against far east music.  Angela handled it very well, and got that guy out of the area.  Eventually calm returned, more folks arrived and the program was a success.

I find my patience wearing thin very quickly with all the noise and carryings on, and wonder if I’m turning into one of those crotchety old folks I was so frustrated with as a kid.  At least I haven’t called anyone a G.D. Hoodlum…yet.

Thanks for stopping by… talk to you later,  Judy

A trip to Port Orford, and the mystery solved

On Tuesday Jack and I headed up the Samuel Boardman Scenic Byway to check out the viewpoint waysides.

First up for us heading north on US 101 was the Whalehead Trail viewpoint.  I had brought the scope along in hopes of seeing breeding birds on the islands along the way.  Perhaps Jack is a junior bird nerd in the making?

Then we skipped up to Arch Rock Point.  Those white splotches on the ledges of the rock are indeed pelagic cormorant nesting sites. 

These cormorants build their nests out of seaweed and guano on the slim ledges of the rock face.  Jack had brought his 400mm lens along, so he was able to get a shot of the nesting birds.  You really can’t tell these birds are there with the naked eye.

Using the scope, I also spotted these three baby Western Gulls.  Can you see their grey fluffiness just to the right of center?  By this time, several other folks had arrived along the trail, and I went into USFWS interpreter mode.    All of these islands are part of Oregon Islands NWR, don’t you know.  They were all thrilled to take a look through the scope at the babies and the nesting cormorants.

A few minutes later, I heard the screaming alarm calls of some Black Oystercatchers a bit further down the overlook trail.  I hot-footed it over there to see this view.  The gulls and oystercatchers were having a fit, so I scanned the area and found two peregrine falcons looking for lunch.  The gulls were chasing after the peregrines, and the peregrines were dive bombing the gull and oystercatcher nesting areas.  What a ruckus!  I called over the other visitors, and we all got the thrill of watching from above.  That sure made my day!

Eventually, we made it to Port Orford and had lunch at a place I had picked out from reading other bloggers comments about it.  It was pretty tasty.  I had the local shrimp patty melt sandwich.  If I ever get back here, next time I think I’d just order their fish and chips, and maybe some clam chowder.  I’ve never had clam chowder, and missed my chance to try some here.

There were three historic places I wanted to visit while in Port Orford.  The first was the Cape Blanco Lighthouse.

We did get to see it from a distance.  The other two places were the historic Hughes House and the Lifeboat Station Museum, but wouldn’t you know it, all three were closed on Tuesdays.  Bummer!

As we headed back to Brookings we did stop in Gold Beach so Jack could get a picture of their post office.  He collects pictures of post offices around the country.  We also walked a very short way down the Oregon Coast Trail to view the Natural Bridges Cove.  It was a pretty good day trip all in all, and the weather really cooperated for a change.

Yesterday I had Jack over for NY BBQ using Cornish game hens, and we said our farewells until the next time our paths cross.  I’m guessing it will be another couple of years before that happens again.  It was a good visit, and we had a lot of laughs.  Safe travels, Jack.

As for the mystery of where Lesa disappeared to, I found out at the volunteer breakfast yesterday that it seems she has PTSD, and was feeling terribly claustrophobic in site B6.  I guess she just moved to a more open site, and is still volunteering here.  I just haven’t seen her out and about.  That’s a better outcome than my mind was conjuring up.

Thanks for stopping by… talk to you later,  Judy

An interesting daytrip and a little mystery

I was over to Jack’s site in a private RV park by 9:00 this morning so we could go on a daytrip to visit the Redwoods.  He, and other commenters, had suggested Jedediah Smith State Park as the place to take the grandkids when they visit.  So that’s where we headed.  Of course Jack wanted to take some back roads to get there.  Uf-dah!  It was a slow, lumpy, bumpy ride through the fog as we headed over the mountain pass.

After stopping at the visitors center, we made our way to a trail along Walker Road.  I just can’t get over how big these trees are.  It was a nice walk in the woods amongst these giants.  And how nice to have someone else along so I can have some pictures of myself for a change.

As you can tell, I really liked this pic.  How can you not love something that could be a thousand years old?  When I’m walking in the redwoods, I feel like a puny pipsqueak.  They do give a person a perspective of their importance in this world.

Jack’s not much of a tree hugger though, and I think he actually looks a little tormented here.    We continued down the skinny bumpy road, missed a turn to the left, but finally found a place to turn around by the Smith River.  Jack has a big dually truck and needs a bit of room to turn it around.  I was sure glad I wasn’t driving.  If I can change my work schedule so I’ll be free to pick up Robyn and the girls, I think I’d like to take them here on our way back from the airport in Medford.

After grabbing lunch in Crescent City, we headed further south to Prairie Creek State Park since Jack had never been there before.  I posted about my trip there last month.  There are plenty of big redwoods to see, and also the possibility of seeing some Roosevelt elk.

Since it was early afternoon when we got there I told Jack it was a fat chance we’d actually see any elk.  Surprise!  I spotted three bucks coming out of the woods to feed in the talk grass meadow.  Yahoo!  They were real beauties.  We then drove the scenic byway through the park heading north and back home.

I had a bit of a surprise when I got back to Harris Beach SP.  Last Wednesday, a new volunteer host, Lesa, had arrived in the site next to me and set up her trailer with all kinds of fixings.  She had a table with three chairs outside, a couple of birdhouses, and several big pots of flowers.  I figured she’d be volunteering here for quite some time.  I have to admit that she seemed a little unusual to talk to when I went over to introduce myself as the bird host, but hey, we’re all different folks out here.

Well, when I got back today, the site was empty.  Apparently Lesa had packed up lock, stock, and barrel and left.  Now that’s a bit of a mystery.  Just makes me wonder what happened.

Jack and I are off on another day trip tomorrow.  This time we’ll head north along US 101.  New territory for Jack.  I’m hoping we make it to Port Orford to have lunch at the Crazy Norwegian’s that I’ve heard about there.  There’s also Humbug Mountain State Park.

Thanks for stopping by… talk to you later,  Judy

The Bugman cometh

My good friend Bugman Jack rolled into town Thursday afternoon.  After he got set up at a private campground in town, he headed over to Harris Beach State Park to deliver his surprise gift to me.  My heart was aflutter!  What could it be?  Knowing Jack, I knew it had to be something very special.  Well, here it is:

  I was surprised, but what the heck is it?  I can’t remember its official name, but I’m going to call it my poop wrench.  Now isn’t that just something every woman dreams about?  (kind of reminds me of when I got an iron for Christmas one year from my ex)  Anyway, it’s designed to help me disconnect sections of my dump hose more easily.  I’m sure I’ll be thrilled to have it when I go to disconnect.    If nothing else, Jack is a practical fellow.

I started out yesterday morning setting up the scope and stuff at the secondary place to meet the junior ranger candidates.  Had a nice group of them, too.  However, shortly before their arrival, the ocean fog rolled in.  That makes the presentation a bit of a challenge, but we did get a small window of ten minutes of the fog clearing so they could actually briefly look through the scope to see the birds.

After that, I headed down to the overlook where Jack met me and helped me set things up.  The fog had once again returned, so Jack headed off to investigate the tide pools while I manned the overlook.  The above photo is the only one I’ve gotten of Jack so far.  The fog eventually cleared, and I’ve got a story about what happened then, but I’ll save that for the end of the post.

We didn’t get to go out for dinner yesterday, as I had a full schedule for the day which included getting ready for my first power point program for campers on the breeding seabirds of the Oregon coast.  That presentation takes place at the state park amphitheater at 8:30 at night.  I’m pretty worn out by that time of the day, but it needs to be close to sunset so the slides show up on the screen.  It went pretty well for a first presentation, but I forgot a few things since I didn’t want to just read from a script.  I’m sure I’ll get better as the season progresses. 

This morning, I was back to the overlook.  It was a gorgeous sunny day, until I noticed another fog bank rolling in about 9:30.  What follows is a sequence of photos taken over only four minutes in time to give you an idea of how fast this fog rolls in.

It just amazes me how quickly things change on the coast.  Jack was supposed to meet me again this morning, but I think he looked at that fog, and maybe went back to bed.

Now, for the rest of the story.  After the fog cleared yesterday, I ended up with a total of thirty visitors for the day.  Jack was with me at the overlook, and certainly can not be described as shy.  He’s a talker by nature.  Just before time to close things down, two ladies were looking at the banner with the pictures of Bird/Goat Island with all the species that can be seen.  I approached them and asked if they would like to see the birds.  One of them looked at my pockets and asked if I had them with me.    Okay, not exactly, but if you’d like to look through the scope over there, I’d be happy to show them to you… 

We had quite a chat with these ladies, and Jack related how he and I had met 6 years ago in New Mexico.  (the 6 is important, I think)  He then went on to say that in his travels we had crossed paths 6 more times in Texas, Mississippi, North Carolina, Oregon, Minnesota, and Georgia where we had gotten to hold wild baby alligators.  The ‘pocket’ lady appeared to be quite fascinated by this. 

Eventually they went on their way, and we packed up the equipment and brought it up to my car.  Jack and I bid adieu, and I started to head off to work on my presentation.  As I backed out of the parking spot, the ‘pocket’ lady came over to my car.  She said she just had to ask me one more question… “Is that how you two have stayed married for 60 years by only letting him visit you six times???”  I swear, I nearly bust a gut!  As composed as I could manage I replied, “Good Lord, he’s just a friend.  We’re not married.”  She seemed satisfied with that answer.  I’m thinking that has to go down in the annals of most unusual questions asked a volunteer!  Sometimes, fact is stranger than fiction.

Haven’t heard from Jack at all today.  I’m thinking he’s just chilling… but then again, he’s a Navy man down by the port of Brookings, and you know what they say about Navy men in every port…

Thanks for stopping by… talk to you later,  Judy

 

I was a home body today

As per usual, the campground was encased in chilly dense fog this morning.  These conditions certainly put a damper on my get up and go.  While the Rogue River Valley just 30 miles or so east of here is wilting in 100* temperatures, I’m thinking I’ll never get warm again.  So, I decided to crank up the heat and just stay home today.

                                            All of tonight’s photos are taken around my campsite.

There was a changing of the guard of sorts today as the two campsites next to me vacated.  These were folks that were Harris Beach SP hosts that had completed their stints of volunteering here.  I’m expecting that two more couples will roll in tomorrow. 

                                       Should be nice wild blackberry pickings in a couple of weeks.

The hosts that stay up where I’m quartered do site cleanups as campers come and go.  As such, they get to keep any firewood that is left behind.  Since they were moving on to other locations, I was the recipient of the firewood that they had collected and not used.  It will come in handy as my daughter and the grandgirls visit in a couple of weeks.

                                                            Black-headed Grosbeak (female)

I’ve got quite the list of chores to accomplish when I go into town tomorrow.  My good friend, Bugman Jack, is arriving in town on Thursday, and I want to be prepared for his visit.  Long time readers know that Jack always takes me out to eat, so I’ve been asking around about the best food.  I have to ask since I seldom go out to eat.  It’s kind of boring to just sit there by yourself. 

                                                                              Song Sparrow

I figured I’d better find out about the best seafood place since we’re on the coast, and I’m thinking I may even pop for a classy steak and seafood place that has been in business since 1952.  I, of course, never let Jack forget about the time he took me to a Waffle House.     

                                                                           Wilson’s Warbler

Jack says he’s bringing me a surprise, and has some destinations in mind for day trips that we may do during the week he is in town.  I’m planning a couple of surprises of my own.  Of course, some of them involve getting a little help with a few things.

Charliedownunder always says hello and asks how Emma is doing, so here she is.  I’d say she’s getting a little white around the edges, Charlie.  Emma will be eight in October.  She hasn’t lost much of her pep, but she does limp a bit occasionally when her rheumatism is bothering her.  Doesn’t happen often, but when it does, we make quite a pair limping down the path.

I’m rather surprised she let me take these shots of her.  She usually abhors it.  When she isn’t chewing a stick outside, she’s on patrol for varmints.  Mostly squirrels, but last night I’m afraid a very young cottontail came within her reach.    Dang!  It was over before I could do anything about it.  Nature’s clean up crew took care of the remains.

                                                                                THE END!!

Thanks for stopping by… talk to you later,  Judy

Today was the day!

A couple of days ago I ran across a pamphlet on the birds of Curry County Oregon.  That’s where I’m at.  Besides a list of all the birds that are possible to see in the county, the pamphlet also tells the best places for birding.  Harris Beach State Park is listed as THE place to see Tufted Puffins.

They nest on Bird/Goat Island.  Well, let me tell you that I’ve spent 20 hours a week for over six weeks scoping out and staring at Bird Island, and I hadn’t seen one tufted puffin.  They reportedly nest on the other side of the island that can’t be viewed from my overlook spot.  On top of that, they lay their one egg at the bottom of a tunnel or burrow that can be up to seven or more feet deep.  So the only time for me to really see them is when they are out fishing on the ocean.  (photo from the internet)

Well, today was the day, finally!  I saw a pair out floating on high tide about two hundred yards from the island.  There was no way to get a photo, as I barely found them through the spotting scope in amongst hundreds of common murres.  I literally jumped up and down, and turned around to alert folks of what they could see through the scope.  Ha!  A little squall had moved in, and I was just about the only one standing out in the light rain.  However, that didn’t ‘dampen’ my little victory dance as I finally got to see this elusive species.  Made my day!

The rain started coming down a bit heavier, so I grabbed the spotting scope off of the tripod and headed for the car for shelter.  Have to take care of the government’s property, don’t you know.  I rolled the side window down, and this western gull came sauntering over to the side of the car.  I suppose it was hoping for a handout.  Fat chance Mr. Gull!

I sat there about a half an hour until the rain subsided, and this guy/gal was ever hopeful.  Can you see the red spot on its lower mandible?  It’s there for a reason.  When their chicks hatch, they see that red spot and peck at it.  That trips a response in the adult to regurgitate food for the young one’s appetite; much like a human baby cries when it’s hungry.

After the showers were done, I ended up having my busiest day so far on the overlook with 48 interested visitors.  The main draw for folks visiting here is the beach, and the sand, and the water, after all, so I felt pretty good introducing 48 adults and children to the wonders of the breeding birds that can barely be seen with the naked eye.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention a wonderful visit earlier this week from my good friends, John and Bridget Hatch.  We volunteered together last summer at Tamarac NWR, and they are just about done with a volunteer stint at Tualatin NWR up near Portland, OR.

John is my go to guy for problems with my rig, and Bridget and I just had so much fun working together last summer.  I had hoped to show them the breeding birds in the morning before they left, but the pesky morning fog rolled in and obliterated the islands.

Now that I’ve finally seen the puffins, I’m going to leave you with a question.  What do you think you call a baby puffin?

Thanks for stopping by… talk to you later,  Judy