cbchickadee's Journal

David and I arrived at the trailhead at 10:23 under partly cloudy skies. We walked briskly along the trail, taking the right fork, wanting to reach the shore for the minus tide at about 10:45. Along the way we heard Olive-sided Flycatcher, Pacific-slope Flycatcher, Spotted Towhee, Chestnut-backed Chickadee, Purple Finch, Orange-crowned Warbler, and saw a Dark-eyed Junco carrying food.

When we reached the open area, White-crowned Sparrows sang from the dog thickets. Harvest Brodiaea and Hooker's Onion bloomed on the prairie, while Puget Sound Gumweed flowered closer to shore. Out on the water between Castle and Colville Islands rested and flew tens of Pigeon Guillemots. Black Oystercatchers called. I counted 41 Harbor Seals hauled out on Colville Island.

We inched down to the tide pool area, where it was less breezy. On his way over to his favorite fishing perch, David spotted a Gumboot Chiton, our first for Lopez. This leathery, reddish-brown mollusk is "acclaimed as the largest chiton in the world." (Sept 1999, The Beachcomber's Guide to Seashore Life in the Pacific Northwest) Black Katy Chitons, much smaller and more common, appeared to be quite abundant.

While David fished, I searched the pools for more marine organisms. The low tide had exposed much, so I was able to see a wonderful diversity of life. One of my favorite species is the bright Orange Sea Cucumber, also called Sea Gherkin after its nubbly, pickle-like shape when its tentacles are withdrawn. Purple Sea Stars tucked themselves under boulder overhangs to wait out the low tide. In the deeper tide pools, Painted Anemones waved their red and green tentacles, while in shallower pools, they looked like globular mounds of jello. Green Sea Urchins blended with the green algaes, some even seeming to camouflage themselves further with bits of shell or algae attached to their dorsal sides. Darting movements alerted me to the presence of Tidepool Sculpins. I hunkered down to study the one to three inch fish, prettily marked with a variety of stripes and speckles in browns, blacks and tans. While there, I noted the shiny, conical shells of Blue Topsnails. The shiniest blue ones looked almost tropical. Moving farther west, I discovered very shallow pools with both Branching and Encrusting Coralline Algaes in dusky pinks, some littered with Sitka(?) Periwinkles. Also in these shallow pools, or in a rock depression, were small conglomerations of Aggregating Anemones, pink-tipped tentacles withdrawn, but the bright color visible in the center of the greenish-gray columns. Bladder Wrack covered several square feet of rock. I remember it, or a similar species, fondly from my childhood on the Connecticut shore, where I called it popping seaweed. My Dad, an oceanographer, told me the scientific name was Fucus and I’ve always kept that Latin appellation inside me. Tucked in crevices of deeper shade, Goose Barnacles* shone white against the black rocks to which they attached themselves. I love their distinctive form and coloring.

Having had no luck fishing, David joins me. He turns over rocks to reveal olive-green Six-rayed Stars, much smaller at four inches across than their larger cousins the Pisasters (to 14 inches across); a Northern Clingfish clinging to the underside of a rock (we were careful to place the rock back in its former position); and a diversity of crabs. Since six-rayed stars eat sea cucumbers, it was not surprising to find them common with the number of orange sea cucumbers also present.

Crabs: kelp, purple shore, flattop, pygmy rock, black-claw*. The Kelp Crab’s olive-brown carapace is shaped like a shield of old. This specimen was much smaller at only a few inches across than the much larger ones I’ve seen on dock pilings in the past. Purple Shore Crabs are my favorites as they skitter about in the tide pools or scurry sideways when a rock is lifted. They are often seen on exposed shores, out of the water. In college, a friend and I studied this species on the shores of Eld Inlet, counting them within prescribed plots.

Back to Colville, where the next three species were all new to me. The Flattop Crab had a very rounded, dark carapace. I admired the long, whip-like antenna emerging behind its eyes. The purplish-red carapace of the Pygmy Rock Crab caused it to stand out in a tide pool. I was amazed to read that the females of this small (to 1-3/4 inches across) species may carry as many as 33,000 eggs (Sept 1999)! Much paler, almost white, with the exception of its foreclaws, and more feisty, the Black-clawed Crab waved its pincers in defiance when David picked him up. I was glad to see such spirit, and after a few quick photos, we returned the crab to its domain.

In the forest, we were to find another new species. Walking back on the eastern trail, I was excited to spot an orchid that I didn’t know growing amidst thick moss. Dessicating, spiranthes-like flowers coiled round the upper stem. Midway up the fine stalk, a pair of heart-shaped leaves clasped the stem. Consulting Pojar and MacKinnnon (1994), I identified the flower as Heart-leaved Twayblade. The authors write in their notes: “The intricate pollination mechanisms of Listera species fascinated Charles Darwin, who studied them intensively. The pollen is blown out explosively within a drop of viscous fluid that glues the pollen masses to unsuspecting insects (or to your finger if you touch the top of the column).” Discovering this delicate sprite was a perfect finale to our Colville outing.

David and I rose at 04:30 for the Breeding Bird Survey. The sky was mostly cloudy, and the wind very light. American Robins sang loudly. We drove to the start point at Upright Head and began the survey at 05:05. The sun was starting to break through the clouds and the wind picked up slightly in the more open areas. David was the observer, I the recorder. (The BBS protocol states that only one person should observe to minimize individual bias.) David counted every bird he heard and saw in a 3-minute period at each stop.

I won't describe the entire route in detail, but here are the basics: Upright Head Preserve, south on Ferry Road to Fisherman's Bay Road, east on Cross Road to south on Port Stanley Road, west on Hummel Lake Road to south on Center Road (we tried to avoid this main road as much as possible), east and south on Lopez Sound Road to west on School Road, north on Center Road to west on Dill Road, south on Fisherman's Bay Road to west on Airport Road, south on Shark Reef Road to west on Burt Road, north on Davis Bay Road to east on Fisherman Bay Road, south on Kjargaard Road to Richardson Road, east on Vista Road to Mud Bay Road, south on MacKaye Harbor Road to east, then north on Aleck Bay Road, northeast on Mud Bay Road to the last point at the junction of Cape St Mary Road, for a total of 50 points over 24.5 miles.
We saw 61 species of birds and 692 individuals. The highlight was seeing Bushtits at two stops, a species we'd been looking for on the island since we started coming in 2009. At Stop 7, just east of the junction between Fisherman Bay and Cross Roads, we saw one Bushtit in the mixed forest across from the horse farm. We also saw our first Eurasian Collared-Dove on the island on a utility wire overlooking the farm. (I learned later from Monica Wieland's "A Guide to the Birds of San Juan Island" that these non-natives were first recorded in the islands in 2005, but didn't become established until 2010.) We heard and saw a second Bushtit at Stop 40 along Vista Road west of the junction with Mud Bay Road, in an area of hedgerows backed by farm pastures.
We also saw at least 12 Columbian Black-tailed Deer along the route. Orange Honeysuckle bloomed, as did a few roses, but most of the latter were past their peak. We finished the survey at 10:08 under cloudy (broken) skies, and a temperature of about 56 degrees F. Wind had increased, especially in the open areas, to moving small branches.

David and I arrived at Lopez Hill at 11:45. As soon as we started down the trail, we heard a ruckus of American Robins in the conifers north of the trail. After some listening and scoping with binos, we couldn't see the source of the noise, but thought an owl might be perched nearby. We continued on, hearing the fluting song of the Swainson's Thrush, the bubbling of a Winter Wren, the whistle of a Pacific-slope Flycatcher, and the "zee-zee" notes of a Townsend's Warbler. The drupes of Salmonberry shrubs ranged from yellow to reddish-purple, the latter coming easily from the plant and being the most flavorful and juicy. In "Plants of the Pacific Northwest Coast," Pojar and Mackinnon write: "Throughout the Northwest Coast, the ripening of salmonberries is associated with the song of Swainson's thrush, called 'salmonberry bird' in many languages."

Hearing a slow song coming from an open stand of conifers, we pished and were lucky enough to have a spectacled vireo fly into view. It was a Cassin's Vireo, olive-green with white circles around its eyes, joined by a bridge across its bill. It was good to see the bird and associate it with its slow, robin-like song. Next we heard the distinctive "hiccup" call of a Western Tanager, a bird we'd not observed on the island until now.

A very light sprinkle fell as we walked along the Burnt Stump Trail and listened to the trills of both Dark-eyed Junco (monotone) and Orange-crowned Warbler (staccato), the White-crowned Sparrow's twittering trill, and the gurgling of a Brown-headed Cowbird. Twinflowers bloomed in abundance, carpeting the ground and outlining the trunks of Douglas-firs. I took photo after photo, trying to capture the extent of their glory. A bit further along, the bright blossoms of Orange Honeysuckle hung on vines from a tangle of vines almost strangling an ocean spray shrub. The tall, slender stalk of a Spotted Coralroot rose red from the mossy ground, dainty flowers spotted white.

Near the Hookup Trail wetlands, a Chestnut-backed Chickadees "dee-deed," a Wilson's Warbler's sang its series of "chees", and a Rufous Hummingbird buzzed by. We continued west on the Burnt Stump Trail, stopping to admire a pileated-ravaged snag and clumps of pale tan Oyster Mushrooms just out of reach on an alder snag. On the trunk of a nearby fir, a Banana Slug left its slime trail along the bark. Alongside the trail, wild strawberries sported white blossoms and a few green berries. Bending over for a closer look, I noticed a land snail crawling on a twig arched above the moss. Its brown and black bands identified it as a Pacific Sideband Snail.

As we walked on, the nasal "ankh" of a Red-breasted Nuthatch carried through the forest. After about nine-tenths of a mile, we turned south onto the 3 Cedars Trail. A House Wren chattered around us, carrying food; fledglings must have been nearby. I spotted a female Hairy Woodpecker on a Douglas-fir trunk. Another Western Tanager "hiccuped" as we started up the Hilltop Trail.

A pleasant breeze blew atop the hill at 13:15. Hooker's Onion bloomed in the grasses of the rocky bald. I enjoyed the hammock for a few minutes before we started back down, following the Hilltop Trail east to the Rainbow Trail. In a dense Western Red-Cedar grove, I saw movement in the lower limbs and raised my binoculars to see the lovely blue-grey and burnt-orange patterns of male Varied Thrush. In the same grove, a Brown Creeper climbed along the trunk of a small cedar, then swooped down to a nearby tree and began again, all the while emitting a high, thin "tseet." A short ways along the trail we spotted two more creepers.

Turning north on the Hook-up Trail, we then retraced our path along the Burnt Stump Trail to the parking area, arriving there at 14:15. More blue sky showed through the clouds. On the way back to Odlin, we spotted a Cooper's Hawk flying over the shallow lake along Port Stanley Road by Swift's Bay. Double-crested Cormorants swam in the bay.

When we returned to camp at 15:00, a spike Columbian Black-tailed Deer browsed in the group campsite across from our site. His coat was a rich orange-brown, his antlers in velvet, his large eyes dark and calm as her peered at us over his shoulder. He stood for photos, then trotted slowly into the trees, disappearing from view.

A fine mist fell from overcast skies as we drove into the ferry lane for Lopez Island in Anacortes. Some Pelagic Cormorants carried beakfuls of reddish-brown algae to nests on the dock pilings, while others appeared to be incubating eggs.

When we arrived on the island at 13:25, rain sprinkled on our Trooper and the Foxglove flowers alongside the road to Odlin County Park. At the check-in booth, we were delighted to see our name, "St. George," on the reservation board and chalked onto a sign in front of our site #21. Trees and shrubs on two sides and the sea on the third helped to privatize our site, though across from us loomed a group site full of kids. As we set up our tent and screenhouse in the rain, we heard the songs and calls of Swainson's Thrush, Chestnut-backed Chickadee, Olive-sided Flycatcher, Pacific-slope Flycatcher and American Robin. A Townsend's Chipmunk scurried across a fallen log.
We left the park at 15:25 to mark the Breeding Bird Survey route David had mapped out for us. We tied orange flagging tape to vegetation at stops with no obvious landmark and wrote location notes about others. The route began at the Upright Head Preserve gate by the ferry landing and proceeded south along Ferry Road to Fisherman Bay Road. We had finished the first six stops and were about to turn east on Cross Road when we saw a fire truck parked across Cross road and a fireman directing traffic south! Surprised, we continued into the village for lunch. At Bucky's Island Grill, we overheard some customers talking about the "bomb threat" in a mailbox on Cross Road. No place, not even an island, is immune from the perils of society.
After our meal, we drove south on Fisherman Bay Road to Bayshore Drive, noting birds observed along the way. These included Northwestern Crow, White-crowned Sparrow, Bald Eagle, European Starling, Rufous Hummingbird, and House Finch.
We parked at Otis Perkins Day Park and scanned the Salish Sea with our binos, observed Pigeon Guillemots and one Rhinocerous Auklet with at least 5 small fish in its bill. How do they hold those fish while they dive to catch more? Song Sparrows called and Purple Martins and Barn Swallows swept by. The sea was glassy, as was Fisherman's Bay. Many Canada Geese loafed in the saltmarsh of The Tombolo, including large goslings, while Savannah Sparrows sang. We also observed Brown-headed Cowbird, Violet-green Swallow, Double-crested Cormorant, and Great Blue Heron.
Out at Fisherman Bay - The Spit, a flock of American Goldfinches foraged in the tall grasses along the edge of the mown footpath, sending splashes of yellow into the gray light. White-crowned Sparrows, Spotted Towhees, Savannah Sparrows, and American Robins sang and called from field and forest. Violet-green and Barn Swallows swept overhead and a Belted Kingfisher rattled from its perch on a derelict reefnetter. The old pear trees by the homestead were loaded with fruit. Mosquitos buzzed, but as long as we kept moving, we were fine. A Bigleaf Maple tree at the edge of the parking area attracted my attention, for they are not that common on this island; I took some photos.
Leaving the preserve at 19:02, we retraced our path along the road between the sea and the bay. Just off the sea shore, I saw a Harbor Seal floating, nostrils and back above the surface. Is this a resting position? Not a duck was to be found on the bay. On a fence along Bayshore Drive, a Wild Turkey loomed out of the dusk. She preened her feathers and only jumped off the fence when we slowed the car.
Returning to the Village, we took the "back way" onto Lopez Road, then to Military Road. A Turkey Vulture soared overhead, Red-winged Blackbirds and an Orange-crowned Warbler sang, and Pine Siskins called. Seven Scottish Highland Cows grazed in the pasture near the corner of Coho Lane. Their reddish coats were matted and wild-looking. Six were steers and one a larger bull.
When we returned to our campsite at 19:30, we were happy to see that both our tent and screenhouse "kitchen" were dry despite the rain, which had stopped earlier.