River Time and Noise

I hope you all are doing well. It has been a while since I’ve written anything on this page, but I aim to change that. There is a lot going on - and that has been true for a while. A few things are worth noting and exploring.

Over the past few months I’ve been lucky enough to travel the Willamette, and a few other water ways quite a bit. Of course, due to my fantastic job, and a worthy respect and love for the Willamette River, I’ve already spent about 12 overnights along the river. That will likely increase dramatically over the next few months due to fantastic weather, and a lot of work to be done.

When I’m outside, seeking the relative peace of the Willamette, I typically enjoy the quiet of much of the river. Even for a river that winds through the most populous area of Oregon, some degree of separation from the noise of humanity can occur - and for this I’m thankful. Even so, it seems to me lately that the intrusion of noise, whether around my home, or along the river is increasing.

Myriad wildlife species, from the dynamism of migratory and resident bird life to the river otters just above Norwood, are what I seek to find in the most unobtrusive manner to them. Walking slowly, and listening carefully - the sounds of nature can just wash over anyone on some of the greenway properties like Norwood. Over the past few years though, I’ve become more attuned to the sounds of humanity. It also seems such sounds may have increased, with more people making more noise - day in and day out.

Sure, it is easy to complain about a range of things in this world, yet I think many of you may agree. We make too damn much noise as a species! In the case of a big valley river, we have:

• Nearby Tractors.

• The wayward Truck on a summer evening, with a seemingly purposeful lack of mufflers.

• Irrigation Equipment that drones on through the night - immediately adjacent to a public property.

• Harvesting equipment that seem to have no barrier to 24/7 operation in some weeks.

• A formerly quiet rural highway that, due to increased population, now ushers vehicles south and north nearly 24/7.

• Air traffic from the local flight school, airport and more.

• Errant recreational boats with overly loud motors.

• Repeated sounds of gunshots along the floodplain, in some areas for hours.

• A small influx of airboats which simply do not belong in the nature of the Northwest.

• People playing music in rural areas - FROM their recreational boats!

• Many jet skis with tweaked mufflers.

While it is easy to criticize things in this world, there are some glaring issues that we could better address. I’d suggest that noise, even in a populated valley, is becoming a bigger issue than ever. Having a sense of one’s impact on others, and the natural world, is an area that should receive more attention. If you, or me are paddling a river, seeking out a bit of solitude, what right does a person have to drive a power boat into an area, make a temporary home on a gravel bar, and share their music with whoever might be within a mile of their station? Sure, it is a “public” river, but that does not mean that one waives a sense of decorum, common sense, and community sense at the beginning of a journey.

Folks who decide to play with their guns outside, on a beautiful day, somewhere within a mile or two of the Willamette floodplain, should think a bit more about what they do. Frankly it makes little sense to have that kind of intrusion in our relatively scarce public spaces along the river. Of course, there are no rules that limit one’s ability to shoot one’s gun/guns repeatedly for hours in rural private properties along the Willamette, but perhaps there should be.

I’d argue that the sense of decorum, or what is right in the commons has greatly decreased. The human presence is so large, and so widespread, that we can scarcely escape the most glaring examples of our presence. It makes little sense to import unnecessary noise into what would otherwise be a peaceful place. The same notion goes for the placement of irrigation pumps, which whirr and wine, and pollute public areas within a half mile with their noise.

We can do better as a society, and can be more considerate of others. I apply that notion to those who may be creating the noise pollution. It just may be that irrigators have not had a solid conversation with a person who has a view about the intrusiveness of unnecessary noise. It may be that a solid discussion of making very quiet water pumps has never occurred! They are gifted with a public resource already, so perhaps a bit more work on limiting the noise of pumps is in order.

Of course, the 4th of July is an outlier - yet I believe it is a day and evening that is problematic for a lot of people and wildlife. I personally do not need to be reminded of the sweet benefits of our freedom by the sound of explosions.

At any rate, the Willamette and other rivers still retain the ability to provide an escape, even if we have to plan a bit more to find it.

Have fun.

Travis

Spring 2020

Over the past few weeks, to stay healthy and to keep some projects moving, I’ve been lucky to grab my canoe, and get on the river. From one Greenway property to another, each week I’ve been able to take some time, use power tools, work on invasive weeds, work on trails, investigate the occasional riverside pollution issue - and to make progress along the river. In doing this, I also realize that it is not possible for a lot of people, and that time, and intent, is a privilege - work worn, passion induced or otherwise.

These instances have enabled me to view the seasonal changes over the months, from the slightly warmer grey of March, to the affirmative sun and flowers of April and May/ The recent weeks have witnessed the rush of migratory song birds through May and now into June.

Red Osier Dogwood.

It is encouraging to see that more and more people are able to get outside. Obviously things are now tough on multiple levels, and that has to change. Perhaps the quiet of a local park, or a nearby natural area can provide some balance for you as well.

Wilson’s Warbler - Norwood, May 14

For me, nature has been a welcome agent of calm amid the storm. As a Type 1 Diabetic, I try to find different ways to keep busy, and keep my body moving. Even for an ED of a non profit, I work hard to keep my hands of the tools of the field work. Norwood Island is one of these places that keeps me busy.

Bobcat - location kept secret.

Twenty years ago I started my work along the river. In a normal year that would be something to celebrate. At this point, next year is likely a better option.

I hope all of you are doing as well as can be during this tough time. We need change, on many fronts.

Travis

Summer Flows

Not long ago, the gentle heat arrived - what feels like the official start of summer. Over the past few weeks I've been watching the migratory song birds arrive along the willow coated fringes of the river. All of the native plants have come alive, sending their bright flowers upward toward the sun. This to a significant degree is what we all wait for. 

Osprey have been back to the North for over a month, and now they seek food for their chicks which are evident along the river.

I've also been very watchful of the river itself in terms of flow, specifically how much water is traveling north. I've been doing the same with other rivers, and thinking about when it is best to travel them, my thinking built around the sometimes tricky balance between fun, safety, and logistical realities involved in paddling canoes, kayaks, rafts and drift boats. 

By Memorial Day water levels had dropped, but still not down to the low flows of high summer. With the arrival of late June the river approaches low summer flows, and for the first time I can see the river bottom with regularity on the upper river. Tiny juga snails are evident on the river rocks, as well as the many stoneflies, and of course freshwater mussels. Fish, from suckers to trout are spotted whisking along the gravel bars, and Osprey dive frequently toward their prey. Everything is bounded still by elements of the wreckage of the April floods.

Amongst the mussel shells, I can see the occasional live mussel holding fast to the river bottom.

Wood debris, human garbage, and growing things can be seen in the masses of root wads and tree trunks blended together in places along the riverside. All of them are testaments to the power of the water just a couple of months back.

While the calendar full of work and life events is packed, it is nice to know that this summer flow will be around for a while longer, meandering between barriers small and large as we arc toward summer solstice and the many warm, sunlit days ahead.

Two Months Past Winter Solstice

High and wide, the river is rich with the silty brown water of winter. It is late February. All of the leaves have long since fallen. Here and there a few brown ones are left scattered on the ground.  Cottonwood, ash, and willow interwoven into the grey rock and brown silt of the floodplain..  

Multiple times the river has risen this winter, and in doing so it has scoured old side channels and backed up the dead end sloughs with many feet of temporary flow. To the untrained eye this place is cold, barren of food, and may even seem fraught with risk from the power of the water. In fact it may seem that little remains alive along the river. Upon closer inspection, a corner has been turned in the season - if only for the presence of more light at the end of each day. Perhaps in anticipation of warming days, even if by a few degrees, the presence of wild things is evident.  

On the riverside natural area where I spend time, Norwood Island, a trail weaves along the riverside. It tells a lot about what goes on here. The deer and coyote first created it. Later the rabbit, turkey, beaver, and raccoon discovered it.  Fourteen year old pines, some gaining what might be called their sub-adult girth, create a small forest of about 30 acres in the mid part of the island's east side. Here the trail twists along next to these trees, working its way downstream. I can see something has been walking on this path. 

Rounded pellets of deer scat dot the ground in a small collection at the base of a snowberry bush. Deer are common along the floodplain, yet in all of my time on this island I have only seen one once. Not seeing many deer may seem ironic given how frequently they are seen along roadsides and backyards in the suburbs. Yet here this creature may well be more guarded, backing off against the occasional human incursion that is easy to detect. 

I recently captured an image of a deer on this island -  a little doe. In the midst of the rain, sleet, and high water of the winter this little animal had made her way, surviving on her own. At dusk she picks her way across the island, nibbling forward. Sometimes she wanders in the pre-dawn darkness. Her teeth cut at the near dormant plants as she walks, pauses to inspect the offerings of the trail, then chewing stems and stalks with what seems almost like patience. After capturing the image of this little animal, I find myself wondering about her. 

She who nibbles. 

Digestion is her strong suit. She can eat almost anything that grows on the island. There is a lot available to this animal and her kin across the 90 acres. It may not be easy, but her system can break the plant matter down and convert it to energy. In a strange way that fact is very reassuring to me. I wonder about the times I've worked on this island, with loud buzzing machines cutting away at invasive plants.  Any angst I feel about impacting the creatures that live on this island with my noise is put at ease to some degree, knowing that the work will result in something better for native plants and animals here. Removing the non-native weeds that crowd out native plants can result in improved habitat for a range of species, from fish and insects, to birds and bees. 

Coyote scat is also evident here and there on the island.  This animal  I've never seen in person at Norwood. It seems there is no pack of coyote here, just a solitary individual, or maybe two. On summer nights there has never been a call to detect, unlike other natural areas along river where I've heard the barking and yapping. In one extraordinary case I was serenaded by two packs on either side of the river. So far at this place there has been no chorus of animals raising their wild voices to the moon. 

At one point recently I hid a remote sensing camera near where I know at least one coyote travels on the island. After just a few days II was rewarded with a very sweet image. What caught my eye most is how much this beautiful animal blends into the scenery - nearly becoming one with the dead twigs and grass of winter. 

Down a familiar path, Norwood Island, Willamette River. 

It is hard to know where this animal spends its time on the island, though there are some signs of where it has been. What is notable is that this creature was photographed near where the little doe has been many times. Yet, having spent a good amount of time there, I think the two are using the same path for similar purposes. My guess is that this watchful canine is drawn around the island more by the presence of rabbits that frequently skitter from clumps of Nootka Rose and Douglas Spirea to the stands of Himalayan Blackberry on the island.

This place is not all that far from many people, yet here on this winter day, it feels far away. It can be dangerous traveling these high flows in winter. It can be dangerous being a deer living on the floodplains of a big river. It can be dangerous being a coyote along the river.