If there is one poor little guy that's on the short end of just about everyone's shopping list who eats meat, it's the cottontail rabbit, or as children's book author and illustrator Beatrix Potter called it, “Peter Rabbit.”
Perhaps the animal that depends on poor little Peter for food in our parts is the great horned owl. Both rabbit and owl are out feeding at night, but the owl has the upper hand. Yes, poor little Peter is dull brown and gray because of its fur, and it moves very slowly as it snips off tender buds, leaves and grass, but that big owl has some of the best equipment Nature ever invented for seeing and hearing small, slow-moving, rabbits. Once spotted, few escape the needle-sharp talons of this tiger of the air.
Outside
A Cross To Bear: The big cyclocross party comes to Bend
On the surface, cyclocross (cross) racing appears to be nothing more than racing road bikes off-road, a quirky, counter-seasonal form of bike racing. On closer inspection, cross is more than that.
Reunion at Yuppie Junction: Searching for the latte stand on the skinny tracks and an epic rider recoups
This past weekend was the 30th reunion of the Amity High School Class of 1980. When I received my invitation a while back, I Googled my old boyfriend who was a dark-haired Italian star of the soccer team. Now, he is a rotund, bald banker.
Not ready to face the reality of my years or reminisce about “Stairway to Heaven” and the senior prom, I decided to forego a trip back east to Bethany, Connecticut and hang in Bend. Every year, it feels like a class reunion at the Nordic center on Thanksgiving weekend. I skated around the nicely groomed trails all weekend, catching up with dozens of Bend's outdoor athletes. Ski, chat, ski, chat, ski, chat.
How to burn the turkey: And the stuffing, the mashed potatoes and the pumpkin pie
We all know by now that we won't be able to burn off the brandied yams this year by hiking up Mt. Bachelor. In order to reduce “safety concerns” associated with uphill traffic, Mt. Bachelor and the Deschutes National Foresthave designated all areas within the special use permit as closed to uphill traffic except for a designated corridor for access to the cone using Leeway run. No comment, but at least there are other options for counteracting the guilt from that extra slice of Aunt Mabel's pecan pie.
EXPLORE NEW TRAILS IN THE CROOKED RIVER CANYON
If you're not going skiing, you might try a new eastside hike to burn off that sweet corn pudding. The BLM has just completed three new trails in a system beyond Crooked River Ranch near Terrebonne – less than a one-hour drive from Bend.
Road Trip: With Jimmy Buffett and Dr. Seuss
At the far end of town
Where the Grickle-grass grows
And the wind smells slow-and-sour when it blows
And no birds ever sing, excepting old crows…
Is the street of the Lifted Lorax.
Not quite ready to settle in for a long winter, I got first tracks at Dutchman on November 8 and then headed south. Looking just like a Life Is Good t-shirt, we loaded up the van with mountain bikes, boogie boards and dogs and drove straight through the night, arriving for a glorious sunrise at Malibu.
Stop the Jazz Invasion
Guess what? No one we know in this region, likes, cares or has any desire to watch the Utah Jazz. Well, not at least since Stockton retired his thigh-bearing shorty shorts and Malone traded his one-hand-only dunks for rifles and shotguns of varying size and purpose. Still, Utah Jazz games continue to mysteriously and inexplicably appear on local cable despite the fact that the games aren't listed on that fun sliding color-coded programming chart.
The Water Ouzel: Swimming along with the American dipper
I've been spending a lot more time this fall on the Metolius River than in the past, doing stories on the variety of wonderful river reclamation projects. And in that time I've had the pleasure of seeing several dippers. “What's a dipper?” you may ask. Why, it's an ouzel.
The American dipper, Cinclus mexicanus, was John Muir's favorite bird – and no wonder – few birds are as fun to watch as these little guys, and you will not find them on polluted waters. Dippers are also called “water ouzels,” and their Eskimo name, “anaruk kiviruk,” translates to “old woman sunk.”
Country Girl in the City: Notes from the Esplanade
After a full day of PowerPoint presentations in a dark, windowless conference room in the swanky Nines Hotel in downtown Portland, I desperately needed to move my muscles and see the sky. I dodged out of the wine-and-cheese reception after exchanging a few business cards, and performed a hasty wardrobe change from dress and stockings to tights and running shoes in the back of my van in the Smart Park at 4th and Yamhill.
Aaahhh, my running shoes felt so good as I ran a couple of blocks through the grey drizzle down to the Tom McCall Waterfront City Park. I ran north on the Esplanade along the river, past the homeless people beneath the Burnside Bridge, across the Willamette River on the Steel Bridge and then south down the Eastbank Esplanade to OMSI.
A Serious Snow Jones: Predicting about and riding into winter
Entering the dead zone
After the teasing snowstorms of October and then a pleasant change of recent weather, a lot of ski and ride-aholics are getting antsy. Dreaming of making fresh tracks, the “I skied/rode the cone last month, dude,” crowd is crying out for some big storms. When and if the snow will come is always a matter of great speculation around Central Oregon. For what they're worth, here are a few predictions as to what we're in for snow and weather-wise this coming winter.
It's the Sun's fault!: How the fire in the sky sends life south in the winter
This is the time of year when birds of a feather flock together. As proof of that statement, not too long ago I spotted a large flock of birds flying out of the Whychus Creek area east of Sisters early in the morning and returning just before sundown.
My first thought was Red-winged Blackbirds, as the Deschutes Basin Land Trust's Camp Polk Preserve wetland in that area produces a goodly population of redwings each year. However, to be sure, I took a good look.
Sure enough, right at 5:57 a.m., here they came. Not redwings, but hundreds of starlings and Brewer's blackbirds flew over my head on their way south. I followed them to the junction of the Sisters/Redmond highway at Camp Polk Road and watched as they disbursed in several directions.

