Saturday Sunset

Back to the wheat warehouse and the giant fir trees today where Bobbie had discovered many more owl pellets and ventured that the owl had probably been watching us fiddle around in the old building from the top of one of those trees. We inspected the warehouse carefully, used our new binoculars on the huge trees, poked at some pellets and then set off cross country roads where I got to see an active beaver lodge that Bobbie had discovered a long time ago. The winter scape was gorgeous and only outdone by the sunset which we watched while swiveling our heads to the owl site parked at the perfect spot to see him leave either the warehouse or the big trees. We were foiled again but the warm winter day was exhilarating and we celebrated it with dinner at La Margarita in Salem. DELICIOUS.

Empty Branches

I'm pretty sure the owls see us coming. They spot our car and then quietly make their way to the far side of whatever grove we plan to scout and simply lift their wings and take off. Maybe if we looked fast enough before we get out of the car we could spot their rear ends heading out. Once again, lots of evidence-pellets and whitewash-but no owls. We even laid down on the duff of the grove floor next to the farm house at Howell Territorial Park on Sauvie Island and stared up into the swaying limbs for a good long time. Lots of sunshine, a brisk fresh breeze, and old oak leaves to scrunch through all added to the otherwise joyful experience of this rare and bright February day. And then the drive back around the island in the long shadows of late afternoon with the empty fields and winter trees basking in the last rays of the almost warm sun made the whole trip so worthwhile.

Food, Nature, Valentine

Here's a simple little food to nature connection that you can easily put together. Serve it up with a sweet red or chocolate treat and, viola, Happy Valentine's Day!

old wheat warehouse

Owls 13 Owlers 3

The title is how Bobbie explains the outcome of our latest owl venture. We are trailing owls this year. We hope to see 13 different kinds within the Oregon border but we may have to wander just a little ways into the state of Washington. We've already seen a great horned owl (the one made famous in our book Owl Grove) and we had the breathless privilege of seeing a snowy owl on our first trip out and a short eared owl just off I-5 a few weeks ago along with getting a good close up view of our new great niece, Olivia.

The last couple trips out have rendered no new owl sightings but have transformed me into a true amateur birder complete with new binoculars hanging around my neck. Today we quietly clomped around in an old wheat warehouse on an Oregon Century Farm hoping to see a barn owl who left lots of hefty evidence of his presence in the form of big owl pellets and plenty of whitewash which is maybe the folksy bird watchers way of referring to poop. We studied it carefully to try to determine which side of the barn he entered and which side he exited according to the spray patterns of the, um, whitewash. And we used the flashlight to try to spot him up in the rafters. Bobbie even climbed up one of the wooden ladders that led up to one of the shafts to try to spot him. No luck so we had some fun looking at the old farm equipment and some interesting sorts of farm relics in the huge structure which cast all sorts of angles of light patterns in and around the inside of the warehouse. We warmed ourselves up in the car which we angled into just the right position to catch sight of the owl as he left at dusk to hunt but we didn't see him even though we lingered until almost total darkness. We figure he must have a secondary roost somewhere else but we will return within the next few weeks to try to spot him so we can up our score against the winning owls.

Football the Fast Way

We watched the Rose Bowl today. We watch "Pat's way" which means that he DVR's the game and then we start watching it when it's about halfway through in real time. That way he speeds through the commercials and all the talkie-talk from the commentators on the sidelines, in the booth and behind the duck who does push ups every time Oregon scores. We skip half-time altogether. It's actually not so painful for me to watch a game if done this way.

I don't like football. It's too violent and reminds me too much of ancient Rome when the gladiators slaughtered Christians and animals for sport in front of packed coliseums. But as depicted in movies, we maybe could have recognized the fighters and their victims while football players remain nearly anonymous in their Star Wars-looking uniforms. I always think of the players' mothers as they are being twisted and pounded on the field while shouts of, "Get him! Kill him!" are roaring around the stadium. And when the game is delayed for injury, I don't like it when the cameras swoop down for a close look at the injured player sort of like driving by road kill. Then I am panting with anxiety for the player and his poor mother who is watching with both pride and horror.

When I was young, I refused on principle to watch football. I had all sorts of lofty reasons for not "wasting my time" on such aggressive, violent exploitation of players, colleges and fans of all ilk. I watch it once in a while now just because I can sit there and knit, be with my husband, and eventually doze off to the rattle-rattle white noise of the commentators. I sort of understand the game but am still way too much put off by all the noise, commercialism and violence of this American cultural rite of some sort of passage that the fans and participants somehow never manage to get through.

And why is it now called the "Discover Orange Bowl" rather than the "Orange Bowl" as sponsered by Discover? Sounds like Wall Street has a big hand in this activity too.

Maybe I'll provide my views about professional basketball sometime soon. I watch lots of Trailblazer games and have views about this "sport" as well.