Where The Wild Things Are, and Are Not

"There are some who can live without wild things, and some who cannot." - Aldo Leopold

Two mornings ago I saw a live porcupine ambling along the side of a backroad. It was the first live porcupine I had seen in years. I worry that we will turn around one day and the porcupines will be gone. I used to see them several times in the fall and spring, twenty years ago. You'd see at least 4 or 5 porcupine carcasses in the road back then pretty much every year. Then there were 1 or 2 carcasses a year, and then maybe 1 every couple years, and no sign of live porcupines. I am inordinately glad to see a live porcupine again, and wished it well.

That same morning I saw a mature bald eagle on the Grande Ronde River just south of Elgin. Seemed early in the year to see one there - usually they show up mid to late winter on that stretch of the river, at least for the last few years. Before that, it was more unusual to see one, and in my lifetime, bald eagles were on the verge of extinction. I love seeing them return again to these rivers.

The ospreys are off the nest now on the boxes I check on my way towards La Grande. Every summer now I watch the young, so grateful for the nest boxes put up for the ospreys to use. Watching the return of ospreys to the Grande Ronde and Indian Valleys celebrates a genuine success story for the return of another native species back from the edge of oblivion.

Wildlife asks so little to survive and thrive - putting up a nest box, stopping use of DDT, slowing down when we drive through a wildlife corridor, leaving some snags when we log, planting some native shrubs and wildflowers - often no more than a small margin of tolerance and forbearance.

Since I was little, I have been one of those Aldo Leopold talked about, when he wrote there are some who cannot live without wild things. In the 7th grade I read Sand County Almanac for the first time, and fell in love with his words. It seemed he spoke for me.

Today, I mourn for wild things.

I was glad when wolves first returned to Oregon, and delighted when the first pups were born to the Imnaha pack. I listened at night, hopeful of hearing the howl I have never heard in this county.

Today, I mourn three times over.

I mourn the loss of two individual wolves of the Imnaha pack. Oregon Dept. of Fish & Wildlife, late last Friday, announced they were going to kill two of the remaining four wolves of the Imnaha pack.

I mourn the loss of the pack - one of the wolves they will kill is the collared alpha male, and the other is the sole remaining sub-adult. Killing the alpha male and the other hunting adult of what is now such a small pack is killing the pack as an entity. The Imnaha pack, the first wolf pack in Oregon since wolves were hunted out in the 1900's, will be no more.

I mourn the loss of the pup, who in all probability will not survive the winter without a pack to hunt for it. And especially I mourn for B-300, the collared alpha female who swam the Snake River from Idaho to reach Oregon, and started the successful return of wolves to Oregon. Wolves mate for life - and seldom if ever accept lone wolves into their pack. It will be just her and the pup, and then just her - and it breaks my heart.

Wolves, like all wildlife, require that margin of human tolerance and forbearance to survive. There are some who can live without wild things, and some who cannot. For those of us who cannot, that margin is one we embrace. Unfortunately, those who can live without wild things are determining that all of us will live without them as well.

"Wilderness is not the wide open spaces, but the wild things that fill it." - Chris Morgan

I mourn the loss of wilderness in this corner of the wild that I love so very much.

- Emily Denio

It is the dry season right now - between summer and fall, a door hinge, a time between. Undergrowth crackles and crunches, making a field mouse sound like a herd of elk. The birds are mostly silent in the mornings - a very occasional call from a flicker, once in a while the last lone meadowlark. Swallows and bluebirds flocked and left almost a month ago now. The tiny spring peeper frogs are living in my flower pots (which mostly have chives and mint instead of flowers but do get regular water). Yellowjackets and hornets are terribly aggressive in this too dry too hot September, and swarm anything with sugar, salt, or a drop of moisture. Smoke hazes the morning and colors the setting sun an unsettling shade of orange as wildfires small and large burn here and across Oregon and Idaho.
It is a time of change, of transformation. I wait for rain, think of rain, dream of rain. I wait.

- Danae Yurgel
writing from the breaks between the Minam and Grande Ronde Rivers

Ways of Change

When there's enough momentum behind it, change can be swift. But this is rare the world over. So I, and others like me, accept that the change we bring about is often slow-coming and incremental. We celebrate small victories for the resources we care about: old growth units dropped from a timber sale; a pristine, backcountry meadow spared from the introduction of livestock; the conversion of a 40,000-acre chunk of forest into a play area for off-highway vehicles halted; and a couple wolves live to roam free another day.

Appreciating the value of these small victories doesn't mean we're not also searching for opportunities to effect change on a bigger scale and seizing those opportunities when they arise. We advocate for permanent protection, of the highest order afforded under our system of laws, for our last remaining roadless country. We demand land management plans, like our regional Blue Mountain Forest Plan revision (which will govern what happens on over 5.5 million acres of public land for the next 20 years), provide connectivity corridors for wide-ranging species to travel between core habitats and adapt to climate change. And sometimes we use aggressive litigation to send a message—loud and clear—that when resource management fails to ensure the protection of our lands, waters, fish and wildlife—whomever's responsible for it, is gonna get a "swift kick in the pants" (to quote my grandma).

We hope that the lawsuit we filed this winter, aimed at requiring the Forest Service to take the requisite hard look at the potentially far-reaching negative impacts of cattle grazing on resources that span over hundreds of thousands of acres of varied terrains and ecosystems, is a wake-up call; a reminder that sometimes slow, incremental change isn't good enough.

At least not when maintaining status quo management practices results in our public lands looking like private feedlots:

And not when our streams that support declining fisheries dependent upon clean, cold water are trampled, eroded, and loaded with sediment:

That's when it's time to answer the call for serious change.

Jennifer Schwartz, Staff Attorney

Forests help to keep our world cool

Forests provide a wide array of important services to society such as clean drinking water, recreational opportunities, carbon sequestration, wildlife habitat, cultural values, and much more. A new study published in the Bulletin of the American Meteorological Society highlights the unique role that forests play in maintaining relatively cool land surface temperatures relative to surrounding native plant communities during hot summer months. This effect is particularly important in areas like the Blue Mountains where the summer dry period is very pronounced and non-forest plant communities “brown-down” during the summer and commensurately exhibit very high surface temperatures. The image below shows satellite based land surface temperature on the left and land cover type on the right and illustrates the much cooler land surface temperatures of the forested areas of the Blue Mountains compared to the surrounding grasslands, shrublands, and barren areas. The map graphically displays that with land surface temperature alone you can outline the location of forest ecosystems relative to drier shrublands and grasslands during the hot, dry, mid- and late summer months, particularly in the semi-arid climate of eastern Oregon and Washington. If you are interested in learning why the land surface temperatures measured by satellite are so much higher than the air temperature everyone is so accustomed to hearing reported by the local TV station, radio, or newspaper, follow the link below to the BAMS paper for a detailed explanation of this interesting temperature distinction.

Figure altered from Mildrexler et al. 2011.

Large portions of the Blue Mountains including the Wallowa and the Elkhorn Mountains have maximum land surface temperatures similar to that of Oregon’s Cascade Mountains and Coastal Ranges. While this might seem surprising, with the exception of deciduous broadleaf forests that shed their leaves to avoid drought stress, all forests ecosystems converge to a similar upper temperature limit of about 100 F. The reason for this has to due with the characteristics that forest ecosystems share such as deep roots to access groundwater, and deep complex canopies that are efficient at shedding heat through interactions with the atmosphere.

Despite the numerous benefits that forests provide to society such as regulating the most extreme maximum temperatures that we experience all year, much of our current forest policies, such as the US National Fire Plan, focus almost exclusively on fuels. Its time we move beyond this overly simplistic approach and explicitly consider the numerous valuable ecosystem services we derive from forests in our overarching policies to managing these incredible ecosystems.

The BAMS study may be accessed here: http://journals.ametsoc.org/doi/pdf/10.1175/2011BAMS3067.1

Mildrexler, David J., Maosheng Zhao, Steven W. Running, 2011: Satellite Finds Highest Land Skin Temperatures on Earth. Bull. Amer. Meteor. Soc.,92, 855–860.

Post by David Mildrexler, Ecosystem Conservation Coordinator, Hells Canyon Preservation Council and lead author of the study.

Don't "Smoke"

I had wanted to write about the young ospreys trying out their wings on the nest box on Woodell Road. I had wanted to write about the incredible wildflower displays after this spring's heavy rains. Instead I am writing once again about wolves.

Last week I saw a bumpersticker I hadn't seen before - "Canadian wolves - smoke a pack a day".

Kind of hard to keep my mind on the bountiful display of mock orange scenting the river's edge. Actually it was kind of hard to keep breathing when faced with that kind of hatred and violence.

In this same week the journal Science came out with another article on the vital importance of top predators in ecological health. The article, by an international team of 24 scientists, points out that the destruction of large "apex consumers" has kicked off a series of consequences that rank as one of the most devastating impacts we have had on this planet. It's not the animals themselves, as terrible as their loss has been. It's the effect of tearing the web of connections which we are barely starting to understand. It's not the individuals, it's the relationships. It's not the death of an animal, it's the "trophic downgrades"from the absence of that animal - those linked consequences that rip apart the fabric of a place.

I think about what it means to "smoke a pack" - the loss not just of the individuals, but the relationships between them, and between the wolves and the land.

Research on wolves shows that increased hunting of wolves does not reduce livestock predation, as hunting has a dramatic effect on the cohesiveness of the pack. The worst predation that's happened in Oregon came from two loner "teen" wolves in 2010, on their own without a pack structure.

Aldo Leopold wrote that even as the deer fears the wolf, so the mountain fears the deer. Without the fear of the wolf, the deer becomes a force for destruction of the land. In his essay "Thinking Like A Mountain" he makes a case for the need for wolves and other "apex consumers" for the land itself to be whole and healthy. It's not about loving wolves, it's about loving the land.

It's all about relationships. We can choose to keep smashing the connections, or we can stop, think, and maybe, just maybe, preserve a chance for this place we love to thrive.

- Danae Yurgel
Monday July 25th, 2011

Wildlife Watchers Detect Marten and More

Since starting my internship with HCPC this June, I’ve spent most of my days in the field less than an hour from the office here in downtown La Grande. Wednesday’s Wildlife Watchers camera check on Mt. Emily revealed the vitality of my new backyard.

The Wildlife Watchers program uses motion- and heat-activated cameras to photograph wildlife drawn to our lures. The program specifically targets the American marten, an elusive member of the weasel family that lives in closed-canopy, mixed-conifer forests. Marten need the canopy cover of mature trees, the cavities found in large diameter snags, and the ground structure created by downed trees. Their presence, or lack thereof, helps land managers determine the health of a forest.

The Wildlife Watchers program relies on volunteers to set up cameras and collect photographs and other data. Spearheading the project this summer is Jesse Peacock, a biology student at Eastern Oregon University. After a briefing by Mark Penninger, the lead wildlife biologist for the Wallowa-Whitman National Forest, and tour of the Mt. Emily area with Ecosystem Protection Coordinator David Mildrexler (see the prior blog post), Jesse and I set our sights, and our cameras, on the area.

Setting up the trail cameras is half art, half science. We mapped our study area and headed into the field looking for proper habitat: nearby riparian areas, dense canopy cover, and large dead trees. Once we found a promising zone, we tried to visualize the forest as a marten would: open sky through the canopy became the menacing territory of owls, fallen trees became our walkways, and squirrel middens became likely spots for a meal. We framed our shots, applied a pungent marten lure, and hoped for the best.

On Wednesday, two weeks after setting up our cameras, we headed back into the field with Brian Kelly and volunteers Allen Gorthy and Bob Peacock to check the cameras. Our results were fantastic: we successfully photographed a marten (a hard animal to lure in during the summer months) as well as a number of other non-target species, including black bear, bobcat, coyote, mule deer, and elk. Dead batteries wiped out a week of photographs at our most promising site, but that didn’t stop us from documenting a number of exciting species just a short drive from the HCPC office.

In addition to marten lure, we doused our sites in perfume. Apparently the felines love the stuff, and it may have brought in this bobcat.

A coyote trots away from the camera.

An elk passes through.

Two black bears checking out the lure.

Tree climbing for a sniff.

A buck in velvet.

Two mulies.

What we were after: an American marten. Jesse and Bob estimated the length of this marten to be just over two feet--likely a large male. (Note: the timestamp here reset due to dead batteries. This photo was taken on 7/10/11 at about 4am)

For more photos, check out http://hellscanyon.smugmug.com/. Also, we'd love your help. Whether you want to take an active role in placing and checking cameras, or just want to tag along for a hike, contact Restoration Coordinator Brian Kelly at brian@hellscanyon.org or (541) 963-3950 ext. 24.

-Joe Bushyhead

HCPC in the Mount Emily country

When an organization has been around as long as HCPC, the continual process of getting to know the landscape can seem to have a natural, organic flow. This summer HCPC is connecting in a big way to the Mount Emily country; Owsley Roadless Area, Hellhole Roadless Area, Spring Mountain, Green Mountain and more. It started when HCPC’s esteemed Board recently visited the Owsley Hogback for a hike. An old, unmaintained trail along Owsley Hogback Ridge accesses Owsley Creek and provides wonderful views overlooking the Owsley Creek and Roadless Area. Following closely on the heels of the Board hike, Restoration Coordinator Brian Kelly co-led a wildflower hike with Botanist Susan Geer along Owsley hogback (see next Blog post). Next, Executive Director Greg Dyson took some visitors up hiking along the Owsley Hogback. I recently had the opportunity to visit the area with HCPC summer intern, Joe, and Wildlife Watcher volunteer, Jesse. We found a beautiful old growth forest stand on the edge of the Owsley Roadless Area (pictured at right).

Next we headed to Spring Mountain which is surrounded on three sides by the Owsley Roadless Area. A hiking trail leads through very nice forest to incredible cliffs that are popular with rock climbers (pictured below). From these rocky talus slopes are great views across to the directly adjacent Sugarloaf Mountain. The old growth pines grow right out of the massive boulders at the base of the cliff.

Spring mountain offers outstanding views of the Owsley Roadless area from the Whitman Overlook (pictured below). From this vantage point one can gaze over the steep slopes and deeply incised canyons that drop into Meacham, Owsley, and East Meacham creeks. The overlook area contains signs describing the historic journey of the Whitman family over this perilous terrain.

Rounding off our trip we explored the moist forests of Green Mountain. Green Mountain is surrounded by the Hellhole Roadless Area and the Mount Emily Roadless Area. While incredible old growth moist stands remain on Green Mountain, many of these rare old growth moist forests have fallen to the chainsaw. Note the dense understory of Pacific Yew, and the live and dead old growth standing trees pictured at right. It was a hot day, and as someone that studies land surface temperature, I was impressed by the large temperature difference between the old moist forest stands and the areas where the canopy was removed by heavy logging. The Pacific yew was gone from the areas that were previously logged because opening the canopy up in such an unnatural way dries out the understory of moist forests.

I'm looking forward to many more adventures in this incredible area!!

Posted by David Mildrexler, Ecosystem Conservation Coordinator.