Baskett Slough N.W.R.

On the hunt, May 8, 2015

Macro Man got a hot tip from a pigeon who would do anything for fresh peanuts. After just a half bag of nuts, that bird was singing like a retired mine canary. "Baskett Slough..." was just the clue he needed to track down the missing Golden Paintbrush. He got his computer savvy buddy, Ram, to find the location and history of the slough. Macro Man read through the printouts provided by Ram.

Between Salem, OR and Eugene, OR there are three National Wildlife Refuges collectively known as the Willamette Valley National Wildlife Refuge Complex. The closest one to Macro Man's home base is the Baskett Slough N.W.R., located about 16 miles south of McMinnville, OR. All of these areas provide protected wetlands for local and migrating birds as well as habitat for some of the last remaining native plants that once dominated the valley before farming and urbanization destroyed much of this habitat.

In particular, wet prairie was once the most widespread habitat in the Willamette Valley. Historically, in the uplands, oak savanna was the primary habitat. The Oregon White Oak trees and grasses of these upland areas supported many plants that are now threatened, endangered, or gone. On a more positive note, some of these plants are now being restored at the refuges. Some of the restored plants provide specialized habitat for the Fender's Blue butterfly, also endangered.

As Macro Man turned off the highway on to the gravel Coville Road and headed west, he had a good feeling about the day. The conditions were near perfect: sunny, no clouds, mid-70's, and no other humans around to foil his search efforts.

After parking and taking a 360 view of the area looking for possible suspects, all seemed quiet. He gathered up his gear and set out on the mission. The trail was before him...

After a few minutes, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something. He headed off trail to investigate. On getting in close he realized this was not "the drone he was looking for." It was a very nice Western Blue Flax (Linum lewisii), hailing the mid day sun.


As he proceeded up the path, the native white oaks and grasses became more prevalent. It was a sea of green, with nothing golden in sight. After another 1/4 mile or so, he got down low to examine the understory. Viola, a small red Vetch flower poking its head up. But no sign of our missing Golden Paintbrush.

 Each step brought new views, making it harder to concentrate on the task at hand. This trail was heading deeper into the oak forest, and who knows what peril that would bring?

Sure enough, as Macro Man continued to closely examine the grassy areas for clues, his sixth sense to danger rang out. His bare leg, deep in the native grass, was only inches from the dreaded Toxicodendron diversiloba (Poison Oak).

He backed away slowly as the sweat of fear dripped from his forehead. Back on the trail he checked his map. He knew the missing plant would not be in this forest - it was just too dark. So he took a swig of well water from his bota bag and kept going. But his natural curiosity was like a monkey on his back. He had to stop at each flower along the way to check it out and shoot it with his trusty old Minolta STR. The day wore on...

Eventually he came to a clearing. On the map, he was approaching Baskett Butte, the high point of the refuge. Here, there were few trees and less grass. He started to see more and more flowers, even a yellow-gold looking one. He rushed over to it, bent down for a closer look, only to have his hopes dashed again. It was the virulent, non-native, but familiar Large Hop Clover (Trifolium aureum).

Then he had a strange feeling he was being watched; like a stealth cat was nearby. Upon closer examination, he spotted a huge swath of Tolmie's Pussy Ears (Calochortus tolmiei) peering up at him. These very handsome Sega lily-like flowers do really look like feline ears!

More flowers appeared as he made his way up the hill, toward the viewpoint where he could take a break and have some chow. Along the way he spotted more familiar faces: the Small Flowered Prairie Star (Lithophagma parviflorum), Menzie's Larkspur (Delphinium menziesii), Sea Blush (Plectritis congesta), and Blue Dicks (Dichelostemma capitatum). It was making his head spin - and still no sign of the Golden Paintbrush. He was getting worried that the job may be a bust!

     

 

     

At the viewpoint a nice wooden deck with a bench made a perfect place to gather his thoughts, and eat. Macro Man broke out his mystery meat sandwich from the java joint and washed it down with homemade V8. To the west he could see the coast range and to the south, the slough and farmland dominated the vista. After lunch and a brief nap he decided to finish the loop trail and continue the search.

Looking South from Baskett Butte

Heading down the trail which leads back to the savanna, the sun is hitting the slope at a different angle. Suddenly he catches some small patches of yellow in the grass. He carefully heads over that way, watching every step and then wham, it hits him like a wayward Frisbee. He is standing only inches from the missing Golden Paintbrush! In fact, there are a few dozen of them coming up, showing their finger sized brushes to the world! Macro Man cracks a smile and mutters to himself, "holy harmonica, we got her!"

Willamette Valley farming and development killed off the main habitat for the Golden Paintbrush (Castilleja levisecta) over time. It was completely extirpated from the valley by 1983. Luckily, a few remaining sites in B.C. and Washington still have some original patches of these puppies. Recent efforts to bring it back in the Willamette Valley - most notably at Baskett Butte, have been fruitful. And lucky for Macro Man too.

After capturing multiple images of the missing paintbrush, he packed up and drove back to McMinnville, for a celebratory Hammerhead ale at The Hotel Oregon. Of course he does not own a mobile phone, so he borrowed the hotel house phone to call Lorenzo and share the good news. "It's a miracle, a grateful Lorenzo exclaimed!" To which Macro Man, replied with a sparkle in his voice "All in a day's work, sir - and don't forget to deposit my check."

Links:

Baskett Slough N.W.R. page

Golden Paintbrush Wiki page

The Golden Paintbrush

It had been a long, late night of peering at photos and cropping images over and over, as the scratchy Dave Brubeck records droned on in the background; until finally Macro Man took a shot of cheap brandy and rolled into bed. So it was a literal rude awakening when the incessant ringing of his vintage phone made its way to his brain at 7 AM the next morning. Opening one eye as he tried to roll over towards the phone was a futile effort - he was not alone on the saggy Goodwill mattress: his cranky old 25 pound cat, "Tri-X" was spread out next to him and was not about to move - so he rolled the other way, getting one foot on the floor and pivoting to grab the phone.

"Yep?" he more or less spoke.

"Is this Macro-man, the private eye?" a voice with a mild Italian accent asked in a hurried, panic- stricken way.

"It is. Can you call back?" was all Macro Man could muster.

"No, wait! I have a missing plant. I am Lorenzo at the Willamette Valley Native Flora Circus, and my best and most loved flora act, Golden Paintbrush, has gone missing! You need to find her!" Then a long pause...  "I will pay you well!?"

Those last few words got his attention. Macro Man had not had a paying gig for some time now and his supply of warehouse chili and canned cat food were getting low. "Uhhh, OK, tell me more mister..."

They met up at a seedy java joint in Old Town. The server gal, Cindy, was at least 70, had worked there for decades, and had more wrinkles than a bag of prunes. She spoke in deep, growling spurts, reminiscent of a pit bull with arthritis. "Coffee, boys?" was the grunting translation; we both nodded and avoided eye contact with her. The circus man rambled on about his missing act as Cindy plopped down two cups of black liquid that resembled crude oil - and smelled like the YMCA gym down the street.

Lorenzo, the circus guy, gave Macro Man a photo of the flora he was supposed to find. "Here she is, bring her back by tomorrow, or we'll be ruined." All we know is that she used to hang out in the Willamette Valley and she was last seen with some smooth talking farm boys. Macro Man just looked him in the eye, winked, and walked away without a word.

The Golden Paintbrush, Extirpated

And so his latest adventure began. His mission was to find the Golden Paintbrush and pronto. Macro Man was like a hound dog though; he knew where all the seedy types would hang, so it seemed only natural that Golden Paintbrush would be close by.

He slid into the squeaky, vinyl-covered seat in his '72 VW bus, with a windshield so pitted and smacked with dead bugs you could not drive it at night. There was a hole in the floor and no passenger seat - just a crate he salvaged from a demolished building. He never had to worry about someone trying to steal this rig, it smelled so bad that even urban raccoons avoided it. All he needed now was a stiff shot of V8 (to amp up his sense of smell), his trusty army surplus binoculars, his dusty old 35mm camera, and a map of all the known trouble spots in the valley.

But first, he needed to work the street a bit and find out if there was any useful buzz about the missing paintbrush. He knew just where to start, so he pointed the old bus to the land of perpetual darkness and noise, under the city freeway interchange.

Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion, coming soon...

Jackass Flats

Looking south on the "flats."

Ever notice how tract home neighborhoods in the suburbs are named things like Whispering Pines, Sunset Downs, or Baseline Woods? Often the name has no bearing on the location or history of the place. It's a curious use of psychology to make you feel good about where you live I suppose. So I was intrigued by a name when we recently visited relatives in Ouray, Colorado. One of the hiking trails just north of town goes to an area known as Jackass Flats. There are no houses or donkeys there, but that's a name I can get excited about!

Heading up the rocky ridge to the
 flats.

After a small amount of Internet research, I soon realized that there are many, many places that share this name, throughout the west. There is also a bluegrass band by that name, as well as several restaurants and/or bars. I'm thinking this is a real tribute to the role the noble donkey played in the 1800's west, or it's a reflection of the drunk cowboy/miner/prospector life style.

Today, Ouray is a wonderful little town, sitting at 7,700 ft. elevation and surrounded by picture perfect mountains. It's a mecca for adventuresome tourists who like to hike, go four-wheeling on tiny mountain roads, or people who want to enjoy the scenery and soak in the local hot springs. It has a notable Native American history and a not so notable mining past in the 1800's. The area was rich in silver and minerals and was mined extensively by mountain men as well as more organized corporate endeavours. It was probably during this time that Jackass Flats was born.

Mountain Pine Beetle damage can be
 seen throughout the area.

In any event, on our last day in Ouray, we took a nice hike up to this particular Jackass Flats and found good views, no snow, and a few wildflowers in bloom! Among them, the ubiquitous Pasqueflower, which I have never seen in bloom! This one is slightly different than the Western Pasqueflower (Anemone occidentalis) we have in Oregon mountains, but just as fleeting, as they bloom shortly after snow melt. Usually we find their hairy achenes on display by the time we hit the mountain trails. Their subtle color and beauty belies their poisonous nature. This is one flower you do not want to pick!

Pasqueflower - Anemone patens

One Flowered Cinquefoil - Potentilla uniflora

Cactus Colony - Best guess: Scarlet Hedgehog

Easter Daisy - Townsendia hookeri

Sagebrush Buttercup - Ranunculus glaberrimus

Ring Grass Sunflower - Stenotus armerioides

It was a heartfelt hike!

Local Yokels

The somewhat derogatory term was used by U.S. troops in the 1950's when stationed away from home. It referred to local residents, who were, in their eyes, less sophisticated than residents of their home locale. Well, in this post, we will see that our Local Yokel wildflowers are definitely just as sophisticated as those anywhere!

The second big wave of Local Yokel spring blooms is underway and you can find these fresh faces in most of our natural areas. Right now, the best bang for your wildflower buck is probably at Champoeg State Park near Newberg. The Camas is in full bloom in the fields and a walk along the wooded river trail is like a trip down a northwest wildflower book! Also worth a visit are Jackson Bottom Wetlands and Rood Bridge Park, both in Hillsboro.

Most of these blooms have appeared in this journal before, so I won't repeat their stories here. A note about the Field Chickweed in the last photo. It was growing in a narrow band, on each side of Highway 219 (south of Newberg), near the Willamette River bridge. Quite a sight, for about half a mile!

Flower names: hover your mouse or pointer over each photo. Click or tap to enlarge.