Tag Archives: William L. Finley National Wildlife Refuge

Another Last Goodbye

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A rufous hummingbird perches at William L. Finley National Wildlife Refuge

After a lengthy illness, last week my mother-in-law passed away in her sleep. Out of respect for her privacy, I won’t say much more, except that she was always kind to me and made me feel welcome from the first time I met her. I am saddened by her loss but thankful she got to see her children and grandchildren before she passed, and that she suffers no more.

She didn’t like to be photographed but I’ll pay tribute with a picture of something she loved: hummingbirds. I never got a good picture of her birds, the dozens of ruby-throats that swarmed her feeders, never had the right equipment with me or the right luck. But I did enjoy standing near them and just listening as they buzzed by my head as they flew past to feed, and watching as they dove down from the trees.

This little bird is not a ruby-throat but a rufous hummingbird I photographed here in Oregon years ago. Not a great picture, and not one I have up on my main site, but sadly it’s my best hummingbird picture to date. Perhaps that will change one day, I’ve cleared out some space in the backyard and was wondering what to put there. This past week I thought of planting a little wildflower garden in her honor, stocked with plants to attract the fantastic little fliers that we both love.

Goodbye, Mom, and God bless.

Tough

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An Oregon iris blossoms along the Mill Hill Trail at William L. Finley National Wildlife Refuge

The scientific name for this species of iris is Iris tenax, which literally means tough iris. They are also commonly known as the Oregon iris and are native to the Pacific Northwest, they are fairly short for an iris and have narrow leaves.

I first saw these blossoming one spring day in a meadow at William L. Finley National Wildlife Refuge and fell in love with them, so I bought one at a nursery and planted it in our garden. Unfortunately, we moved before I ever got to see it bloom and I don’t know if the new owners appreciated its subtle beauty compared to the large, showy irises more commonly seen in gardens.

Sacred Ground

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Mossy forest at William L. Finley National Wildlife Refuge near Corvallis, Oregon

“Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” — Exodus 3:5

I visited sacred ground recently.

I didn’t visit the Holy Land.
I didn’t hike in the Black Hills.
I didn’t climb to Machu Picchu.

And I most certainly didn’t take off my shoes.

My sacred ground isn’t a remarkable place. People hike past it without so much as a second glance. If you were to list the amazing spots in the Pacific Northwest, this place doesn’t even crack the top 10. Or top 100. Or top 1000. Or …

But from the first time I hiked the Mill Hill Trail at William L. Finley National Wildlife Refuge, there’s a spot on the trail that’s always stopped me in my tracks. After hiking through some open forest, there is a sudden, immediate transition from the sunlight of the open trail into the darkness of moss draped firs. Little light makes its way past the canopy and the thick moss seems to dampen all sound.

This little section of moss and firs isn’t impressive for the size of the trees (toothpicks compared to the old growth and second growth giants elsewhere in the Northwest) nor for the size of the forest (it lasts just a short while before the trail enters more open forest). It’s a little pocket out of place compared to the surrounding woods at this refuge of reclaimed farmland. A throwback to another time and another place.

Stepping into this part of the forest almost always brings a smile to my face, brightens my mood, quickens my pace but then slows my steps, to look up, to breathe in, to listen, to be.

I’ve seen a coyote slink off up through a forested hill. Laughed at sliding hoofprints of deer where they must have slid coming down a muddy slope. Compared the size of the deer prints next to much larker elk prints.

Further up the trail I’ve seen deer, elk, quail, wood ducks, although sasquatch has yet eluded me. But mostly I love this part of the forest not for what I see but for what I feel.

There’s only been one time in my life when this enchanted forest couldn’t lift a darkest mood, but that’s a story for another day.

The picture above was taken on a rainy day in April. A little earlier on the trail I had been photographing my favorite creature in the Northwest, the rough-skinned newt, but that too is a story for another day.

I’m A Little Slow

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Rough-skinned newt

In J.R.R. Tolkien’s little known trilogy The Lord of the Rings, there’s a passage where the wizard Gandalf is forced to take the fellowship through the Mines of Moria. It is a passage they take only as a last resort, as the dwarves who once mined Moria have abandoned it. The dwarves dug and dug into the earth, creating spectacular rooms in the rock. But one day they dug too deep and unleashed a great evil into the world.

It’s a passage I’ve been thinking about lately as somehow, sometime during the past couple of years, I dug too deep. The world can rest easy, I’ve unleashed no flaming demons from the depths of hell. But something has awakened. I don’t know why, but it has, and the question now is what to do about it.

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