A most fitting ending

As I end my time on Yellow, April and May were quite the sendoff. I had over 850 visitors, not a record but the second most in my 20 springs here. in the last blog I wrote about having the legacy club members here. That constituency totaled nearly 200 people. The next large group was Friday Walkers, a group that visits almost every year with 40-49 people. The day after they were here, two member trips totaled nearly 60 people. 

Other groups included three brought here on the Orion owned and operated by Kevin Campion and his company Deep Green Wilderness. These groups consisted of about 15 individuals, the first from North Cascades Institute (NCI), the second from Outdoor Afros, and the third from Latinos Outdoors. Kevin is a great educator and strives to get people from all walks of life into the out of doors to appreciate nature. We are hoping that TNC can partner with Deep Green Wilderness in the future to get more groups out to Yellow.

So what did these groups see when they came to Yellow? This year was a spectacular flower year, perhaps the second most colorful in the last 20 years. 

Paintbrush, buttercup and camas, Yellow Island's big three that cover the meadow.

There was so much camas this year that I again wondered why the island wasn’t called Purple Island. 

A meadow of camas is foreground to a Pacific madrone in full flower

And yet there was also an abundance of paintbrush so Red Island also has a legitimate claim to the name. 

Harsh paintbrush in front of a pair of 250+ year old Douglas firs

As the major bloom was ending, broadleaf stonecrop covered the rocky balds. These plants growing out of a bed of reindeer lichen have to be among my favorite species.

Broadleaf stonecrop and reindeer lichen

With this my final season on Yellow, I feel true blessed. The last couple months with spectacular flowers, fascinating groups of people, special friends stopping by for a final walk around the island together, all let me know that life is good. The last 19+ years I've got to live the dream and I can't imagine a better ending. Thank you to all of you who have contributed in someway to make it possible.  It's now time to pass the baton; TNC couldn't be happier with their new hire Matt Axling!  Good luck Matt! 😊

Phil Green 

Yellow Island Steward

March, 1999 - May, 2018.

Leaving a Legacy

At the end of each interview last week, we asked the candidates for my position if they had any questions for us. One of the candidates turned and asked me: "Given TNC is all about tangible, long lasting results, after 19 years on Yellow what would I say were my tangible, long lasting results?" Wow! I felt like this was my exit interview. I immediately jumped to one of my favorite activities on Yellow, seed collecting. I love to collect seed, to clean them, to plant them whether in beds, trays or out on the island. These are my babies and what will represent the island in the future and I've been intimately involved with each and everyone. It is both tangible and long lasting.

Since that response I've thought about the question a lot. While my original thoughts immediately jumped to the physical island itself for tangible, long lasting results, there is another way to look at it. Today we had 60 donors in our legacy club visit the island. We will have another 60 tomorrow and another 120 the first weekend in May. These people all have TNC in their will and this is their legacy of tangible, long lasting results. I couldn't, TNC couldn't, succeed in our mission without these generous donors.

These donors like to know that their dollars are making a difference. Yellow Island is a perfect place to showcase how TNC works in multiple arenas: in the terrestrial habitat using science to figure out what is the best way to maintain an anthropogenic prairie, in the marine environment working with WDFW to ensure the marine protected area (MPA) around Yellow and Low islands stays protected, and also the cultural aspect of maintaining the historic Dodd cabin as a residence for the steward. In all three cases TNC is making tangible, long lasting results. And as for me, I am the one who has been blessed over the last 19+ years to push our mission forward in these areas.

So my other legacy that I'm proud of that I hope has tangible, long lasting results is that I inspired others to appreciate and in their own way work to protect the environment. It's similar to planting seeds: plant one and the plant grows with multiple seeds each growing with multiple seeds etc. It's called exponential growth. (I used to be a math instructor in a former life.)  Likewise with the people we inspire. It is this exponential growth in human buy in that will eventually save this planet, our Mother Earth.

Some cell phone shots from today's donor trip.

The 2018 flower season, round one.

March 25 and I awake to the ground covered in frost. Yesterday a hail storm covered the ground in white. Despite the recent weather, early March had enough nice enough weather to convince the early blooming season that it was in deed time to show their colors. In fact, the first species bloomed back on February 10, blue-eyed Mary. This pretty little annual started slowly but now in late March covers the rocks across the top of the west half of the island.

 

Blue-eyed Mary

Next up were the red flowering currant on February 16. The  first currant plants to bloom are the ones along the trail to the outhouse. Why here is a mystery but it’s been pretty consistent over the years. Late March and this is already the peak for this shrub that only one rufous hummingbird has discovered this year, and that was just one day two weeks ago. What's also nice about currant is that it does well in the shaded understory of Yellow's small forested area so adds a nice splotch off red to the varied greens of the oceanspray, snowberry and Douglas firs.

Red flowering currant

March 10 buttercup had its first bloom but two weeks later there are still just individual plants scattered around the island, certainly not enough to name the island Yellow in their honor.

Western buttercup

March 13 paintbrush started blooming and similar to the the first two species, it has its own favorite area to start. The south side of Hummingbird Hill nearly always shows the first reds of paintbrush. It’s only been blooming a couple weeks so still just scattered plants here and there. Paintbrush blooms well into May and some years June so the best is definitely yet to come.

Harsh paintbrush

Shooting star, prairie saxifrage, and Pacific sanicle all bloomed on March 18. These species that have only been blooming a week all have just a dozen plus or minus specimens in bloom.  Unlike paintbrush, shooting star and the saxifrage have relatively short flowering seasons of about a month.

Shooting star

 

Prairie saxifrage

Small-flowered prairie star (3/18) and chocolate lily (3/24) are the only other native species currently in bloom. I’ve only seen three prairie stars and two chocolate lilies and both species suffered in yesterday’s hail storm and last night’s frost.

Given these are the best photos I could get this year, it is clearly not a time of year people race out to see the flowers. But I did have two intrepid kayakers today out to check out the early bloom, and they weren't disappointed. 

Do Birds Sing in Winter?

The recent cold but beautiful weekend got me thinking about the dawn chorus again. I love getting up early to start the day with my avian neighbors. And if you are a regular to this blog, you know I'm addicted to recording bird songs. Last fall I decided to treat myself and upgraded my recording equipment. Much of it was backordered and it finally arrived on Friday. Monday turned out to be the perfect day to get started learning the new system.

The ambient temperature was some where around 40 but the north wind made it feel like it was in the 20s. However, on the south side of the cabin it was downright balmy; I took off my jacket and rolled up my sleeves soaking up the Vitamin D. (One-handed selfies while recording are a bit difficult.) This is me with my new mic and parabola. Parabolas give a 15dB boost without using any electronic magnification.

Two pairs of harlequin ducks were swimming back and forth below me. Most of the time harlequins are non-vocal. But today it seemed there was a bit of squabbling going on. Perfect. I've never recorded harlequins before so this was my best opportunity.

Harlequin Ducks

While the harlequins were squabbling, a pair of chestnut-backed chickadees flew into the snowberry patch next to me. They stayed less than a minute but i was able to get a decent recording of another species I've never recorded before.

Chestnut-backed Chickadees

No sooner had the chickadees disappeared when a small flock of black turnstones started foraging on the rocks below me. Turnstones are another species that is mainly quiet but when the flock takes off in flight sometimes emits a chittering call. I've never gotten a recording good enough to upload before so this was a new species for me at the Macaulay Library of Natural Sounds.

Black Turnstones

I ended the recording session having a pair of black oystercatchers fling directly at me from Low Island and continue on by. Oystercatchers are one of my favorite birds and I may have over a hundred recordings of them. The Macaulay Library will accept as many as people can give them. This allows for comparison of oystercatchers as individuals, by geographic area, differing calls at different times of year, etc.

Black Oystercatcher

Now back to the question in the title, do birds sing in winter? When birds are vocalizing, they are either singing or calling. Singing occurs during breeding season and has to do with attracting a mate or establishing a territory. Calls can happen year round including nesting season. Calls can warn of danger or be a contact call establishing where others in the flock are located. This time of year we are most certainly hearing calls although some species have started working on last year's nest.

As I look out the window longing for the avian melodies of the dawn chorus, still about a month away, there is snow in the air reminding me to be patient and enjoy the present. I've posted this poem before but seems appropriate every day:

Ten thousand flowers in spring,

The moon in autumn,

A cool breeze in summer,

Snow in winter.

If the mind isn't clouded by unnecessary things,

This is the best season of your life.

Wu Men Hui-k 'ai (1183-1260)