Posted inOutside

Winter butterflies?: Warm days, more butterflies

"Mr. Anderson," my caller said last Wednesday afternoon. "I have a
mystery. What in the world is going on with the butterflies? I smashed
a beautiful orange and brown one on my windshield this afternoon - I
didn't think I'd ever see a butterfly fluttering about in November! Is
this the result of global warming, or what?"

That same day, driving
home from Sisters on Highway 20, I had the very same thing happen near
the 8-mile post. It was unavoidable, but it still saddened me. Killing
animals with my motor vehicle is something I try diligently to avoid,
but traveling along at 55 mph on a collision course with a butterfly is
not like avoiding a mule deer or elk. I saw and heard it hit the
windshield and then in a horror of horrors, it caught under my
windshield wiper right in front of my eyes and stuck there all the way
home.

Posted inOutside

Adventure Racers Are My Weakness: Words and whitewater, grammar and granny gears

Ahhhh, a two-hour trail run along the Metolius, a campfire, a mug of hot chocolate, a good book and a great dog.I first came across

Ahhhh, a two-hour trail run along the Metolius, a campfire, a mug of hot chocolate, a good book and a great dog.I first came across Pam Houston's colorful stories of adventure and
travel in magazines and more recently I read the book that won her
fame, Cowboys Are My Weakness. Last week, she visited Bend as one of
the guest authors for the Nature of Words and I wrangled my way into
her writing workshop. Pam, a single 46-year-old woman, has a house in
Colorado, teaches at a university, loves dogs and takes inspiration
from the outdoors for her writing. That sentence describes Pam Houston,
but applies equally to me, so you can understand why I sensed a kindred
spirit when I met her.

Hopefully, some of her words of wisdom
rubbed off on me to your benefit as a reader of this column.
Unfortunately, "Adventure Racers are My Weakness" just doesn't seem to
have quite the right literary ring to it to match her standards. I'll
keep working on it.

Posted inOutside

Cluckers On the Prowl: Chickens yearn back to their dinosaur roots

Those of you who keep chickens and other livestock know what joy there
is in talking to them. (Yes, chickens are "livestock," even though the
sheriff doesn't think so when a stray dog kills one of mine.)

"Good
morning, chickies," is my usual greeting. Then I ask them, "How many
eggs are you going to lay for me today?" slyly pointing to the pile of
empty egg cartons I keep close by to remind them to keep their minds on
their business.
I have a few beautiful Buff Orpingtons, a
couple of Barred Rocks, Rhode Island Reds and handsome Aracanas, the
last of which lays lovely green-shelled eggs. When I greet them in the
morning, they all respond with the usual clucking and chicken grunts
that means "all's well" and "What goodies do you have for us this
morning, James?"

Posted inOutside

First Tracks!: It’s time… for Studs, Muffins and Stud Muffins

FIRST TRACKS
First tracks across Dutchman FlatWhat more could you ask for on November 4th - an Obama
victory and a foot of fresh powder on Bachelor! Yippeee! The day after
the elections, my friend Lisa and I scored some of the very first
tracks of the season on Woody's and Easy Back. We skied across Dutchman
Flat into the nordic area through perfect snow and found the groomer
had just made a pass to pack down the base. I'd say it was an
auspicious start to a new season and a new era.

Posted inOutside

What Goes ‘Round, Come Around: The curious life of bot flies

In the 80-plus years I have lived on this grand old planet we call
home, I have come to realize that the world of nature is so complex I
will go out among the stars with only a hint of what's really going on.

Take
bot flies for example. These pestiferous little buggers (pun intended)
make life miserable for any mammal they come into contact with,
especially rodents, livestock and humans. Scientists have placed bot
flies into one big family: Oestroidea (OH-est-ROW-eh-dee-ah). The bot
fly is a "true fly" that is, they belong to the order Diptera, which
means, "with two wings." While all the other billions of insects are
flying around with four wings, flies have only two, and a "balancer"
that gives them the remarkable agility to avoid fly swatters and such.

Posted inOutside

Fall into Winter: Squeeze in a last-chance hike before the snow falls

THREE FALL HIKES
Fall colors at Mt. JeffersonFall is hiking season in Central Oregon. Now that
November is here, the window of opportunity for many of our best hikes
is closing quickly, but if you can squeeze in one more hike before the
snow flies, here are some of my favorites.
Get there any which way you can: Jeff Park
There
are four ways to gain admission to the "Park," a gorgeous lake-studded
meadow at the base of Mt. Jefferson. Every autumn, I try to find an
Indian Summer weekend to backpack up there when the huckleberry bushes
paint the fields burgundy. My usual way in is an easy six miles up the
Whitewater Trail, off Highway 22. One time, we took a shuttle and came
back out the Pacific Coast Trail and Woodpecker Ridge Trail, which is
about the same length, but can involve a challenging crossing of the
creek running down from Russell Glacier. You can also enter the park by
taking the South Breitenbush Trail or the PCT from the North. Once
you're there, it's an idyllic place to hang out or, if you're really
gung-ho, you can attempt to climb 10,497-foot Mt. Jefferson. Whichever
way you get there, you won't want to leave.

Posted inOutside

And No Juice Box, Either

It was a scene right out of Pop Warner football. A player makes a good play, then commits a dumb penalty and the coach summons

It was a scene right out of Pop Warner football. A player makes a good play, then commits a dumb penalty and the coach summons him to the sideline for an earful.

The
player's benched. He pouts a little bit. And after the coach has some
time to think, tells the player, "You know what. Why don't you head on
home. I don't want you on the field right now."
Except on Sunday,
this wasn't Pop Warner football. It was new San Francisco 49ers Head
Coach Mike Singletary putting his stamp on the woeful team he inherited
after coach Mike Nolan was fired.
The moment of clarity for
Singletary happened after 49er tight end Vernon Davis caught a short
pass in a game the 49ers were losing to Seattle. After the play, the
Seahawks defender started chirping and Davis slapped his facemask,
drawing a 15-yard personal foul penalty.
Singletary benched Davis
after the play. According to ESPN.com, Singletary told his oft-troubled
tight end, "I told him that he would do a better job for us right now
taking a shower and coming back and watching the game than going out on
the field. Simple as that."

Posted inOutside

Moving With the Sun: Monarch butterflies’ long trip south and back again

Snow Geese & MonarchsThis is it, Good People, the time when Mother Nature's Children must
obey the Sun. Whether it be Monarch butterflies, Snow Geese,
hummingbirds, night hawks, plovers, whales or Flammulated Owls, they
can not stop themselves from obeying the Call of the Sun. Even human
Snowbirds traveling south in their gas-guzzling Mini-Winnies must obey
the call of our Sun.

Way back, when most of you were just a gleam in
your daddy's eye – and for some, even before that – I was a
duck-hunter. Yes, I do love to eat mallards and geese. Every
Thanksgiving I would head off for Summer Lake to shoot snow geese, and
Crane Prairie Reservoir for Canada Geese and mallards. (When I
discovered I was killing families of Canada Geese and leaving orphans,
I realized the error of my ways and quit.)
It was the discovery
of Russian bands on snow geese harvested at Summer Lake, however, that
also gave me further insight on the migration of birds. At the same
time, some of the pin-tail ducks I killed were also wearing bands

Posted inOutside

Shine a Light: Solar power your way through winter

BEATING SAD
Sunset over Maui: not very SAD.At 2am on Sunday November 2, we "fall back." I call it
the "Saddest Day of the Year." Thank goodness the Energy Policy Act of
2005 extended Daylight Savings Time one extra week, but all too soon it
will be dark when you go to work and dark when you come home, a
depressing situation for a solar-powered person like me. At least we're
not in Portland, where the incessant grayness can make one suicidal. I
lived in Portland through the icestorms of '95 and the mudslides of
'96. We went months on end without seeing the sun and I couldn't seem
to shake the gloominess. Eventually, I diagnosed myself with Seasonal
Affective Disorder (SAD) and bought an expensive, high-intensity,
full-spectrum light for my cubicle. It attracted co-workers to my desk
like moths to a flame, but it didn't really solve the problem, so I
finally told my doctor how unhappy I was. He said, "Well, I can
prescribe some anti-depressants… or you could move to Central Oregon!"
Shortly thereafter, I picked up and moved to Bend… and never looked
back.
As our well-placed promotion in last weekend's Warren
Miller ski flick, Children of Winter, touted, "In Bend, the number of
days of sunshine competes with the number of inches of snow." That's
our saving grace. Mt. Bachelor's average annual snowfall is 370 inches
at the base and Bend claims 300 sunny days per year (which I think is a
marketing stretch), so I think the edge goes to the snow, but it would
be an interesting statistic to track.
Relocating to Central Oregon is one way to defeat SAD. A few other suggestions follow.

Posted inOutside

It’s More Than Just a Fantasy

After reading Mike Bookey’s guest Left Field rant last week, I had to pull back and contemplate the relationship between my Fantasy Fandom and my

After reading Mike Bookey's guest Left Field rant last week, I had to pull back and contemplate the relationship between my Fantasy Fandom and my real life Fandom.
What I've realized is that Books is right.

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