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.