Sept. 22, 2010: Morning Meanderings

Wednesday, September 22nd

10:00 pm
I've gone the past three days trying to decide what would be an important, meaningful, and lasting observation of nature, with the result that I have neglected to write much of anything down. I was so eager to find something amazing, I ignored the little things that make our campus beautiful. That make it nature. For instance, this morning I watched a duck perform his wake-up ritual. He began on one foot, slumbering happily in the Mill Stream behind Goudy. A shift in the breeze; his internal alarm clock went off, and stirred from his position. Then preening began. Now, I won't claim to know anything about mallards, but as far as ducks go, this one was definitely a player. He stood Jesus-like upon the surface of the water, although no doubt his foot was resting on a rock just below the surface. First his tail needed in-depth cleaning; his wing; his neck; his chest. My watch told me that a solid seventeen minutes had passed before he finally turned back to face me. I'd like to think I did not imagine what happened next: he looked through the window, and I looked out, and for a moment we made perfect eye contact. "Well, ya done yet?" my face said. The disdainful toss of his head was clearly meant to convey how little he thought of my opinion, but the next minute he did indeed fly away.

You may call me Kaliko, Duck-Whisperer.

Well, this encounter brightened my day and set me back on my track of observation. I gained many quizzical glances when I knelt down to test the water of the Mill Stream, and discovered it now covered my fingers and half my palm- yay! (I can't find my ruler, so if someone wants to loan theirs or take over the duty of measuring the stream, it would be fabulous. I'm afraid my measurements are a bit estimated.) Later, I was down by the stream once more. I had never noticed the saplings beside the Mill Stream, where it runs past Rogers' Music Center; so when I realized they were there, and tagged, I was quick to whip out my notebook and take a tally. I discovered two small Douglas Spireas, two Pacific Ninebacks, a Red Flowering Currant, and three rather sad looking Red Elderberries. The first two Elderberry plants were more of sticks than saplings. I scratched the away from the 'trunks' with my fingernail, but while I did find moisture, the cambium was a dry, brown in color, not the cheerful green I have come to expect from such young plants. The third was better off, complete with spiny little leaves. I have a good deal of hope for that little guy.

In the evening, I saw a familiar crow outside Kaneko. While I had at first thought his neck was orange, seeing him up close made me realized that the feathers there are in fact missing, and what I had thought to be discoloration is actually skin. This leads me to wonder- is my crow actually a female, and was this perhaps caused by some rather rough mating? Searching the internet for information on crow mating habits is very little help: they all say the same thing. "Crows dance, males fluff up, then after mating they fly off..." Oh well, I'll ask Dave on Friday.

The Runaway

Theresa Barosh

My eyes follow the orange balloon up next to the tall green and yellow speckled tree and beyond toward the clouds. It floats against the blue sky, contrasting in a beautiful way as opposing colors often do. Then the light clouds become the background, letting the orange appear as vibrant as any balloon should be while it bobs happily. A nearby photographer says, "there is the perfect picture."

Someone replies, "I love it when balloons get let go. I mean it's bad for the environment, but the way they look..."

Now heads are pointed upward toward the ballon as it becomes smaller and smaller. We sit outside of the UC as people walk by. The balloon goes slightly North of East toward the library. I watch it's journey until it becomes a dot disappearing behind the library. I wonder where it will land: a nest, a lake, someone's house, a road... How far will it go? Might some creature choke on it? Or is it more likely to be picked up by a trash collector?

Looking in the opposite direction, to the West, I see the low sun again. The light over the campus in the evening must set the mood for me. Seeing the Mill Stream, the changing trees, and the birds flying by... I feel more curious and amazed in the evening at Willamette.

Creepers at the Mill Stream

Theresa Barosh

A few days ago as I was starting to consider what to blog about, I looked closely at the Mill Stream as I wondered by. Walking North across the small bridge over the stream next to the library, I noticed a slight twinkle near the end of the rail. The light came from the West, as it was early evening. The light was shining on a beautiful, intricate spider web. The web was almost a full circle connected on one side to the bridge and on the other to bricks that make up the stairs leading to FAE (Fine Arts East). The view of the angled light catching the damp silk-like threads, made me feel like I imagine an artist would feel right when she finds the perfect subject for her painting or photograph. Two large spiders actively moved across the web, adding life to the picture. They were a light tan with delicate bending legs and brown markings on their backs. A few feet South of the web, a couple of thin lines lead from the railing to some still spiders of the same look as the two large ones on the web. They seemed small and their legs curved inward unhealthily; I think they were dead.

Yesterday morning, a blonde girl sat next to her tall friend talking excitedly on the bridge. The blonde sat right where the end of the live spiders' web had been, and the tall one leaned against the part of the railing that the nooses for the dead spiders had hung. I was not able to tell if the spiders were still there; however, I imagined the dead spiders clinging to the tall girl's back. This picture made me feel half sympathetic and horrified for the poor girl. The other half of me thought that it was a great joke.

Sept. 19, 2010: Water and Lack Thereof

Sunday, September 19th

9:52 am

Stepped outdoors at eight, and the rain began to pour in earnest. I stood under the cover of Rogers' rear entrance, observing the fact that while I could see blue sky and sunlight, I found no rainbows. Left to walk around in the downpour, which by the time I reached Goudy had all but let up. Sunlight gave the moist quad a dazzling brilliance. I was saddened to see that the rain had no evident effects upon the water level of the Mill Stream. I may start taking records of the levels to confirm my findings, if only I can find my ruler. I also want to record rainfall and compare it with the levels at home. The campus needs more drainage, particularly on the 'Hatfield Bridge' and Jackson Plaza. Extra deep puddles accumulated in these two areas, and my sneakers grew sadly damp as I splashed around in them. Even after the clouds had cleared, individual rainstorms seemed to occur under the trees as condensation continued to succumb to gravity's call.

Walking back to Matthews, I noted the sidewalk was littered with earthworms, although some were identifiable only as small lumps of pinkish mush. I now sit in the Fishbowl and randomly venture outside to stare at the sky, much to the puzzlement of my study partner. The clouds are returning, although there is no more rain as yet. There's a slight breeze in the air, and the humidity seems to be rising. Staring at the horizon, I note dark clouds looming in a rather ominous pattern. It looks like it will rain again.

10:00 pm
I saw a crow with interesting orange markings on the top of his neck while standing outside Kaneko. The ducks seem to be increasing in vibrancy, with the males now clearly identifiable. As I predicted, the rain returned, but not for some hours after my initial observation. To my shock, the Mill Stream has decreased dramatically in depth, despite the rain we've been getting. Why? I have no idea, but I'm horribly curious on the subject. I witnessed an apparently painful (and somewhat sad, due to the lack of water) Mill Streaming, and joined in the chorus of 'Happy Birthday', much to the chagrin of the ducks, who promptly swam away. I also saw my first fish in the stream today, tiny minnows, although they too swam away the moment they were spotted. Tomorrow I will take some bread and see if I can't coax them out of hiding.

Sept. 18, 2010: Quiet Descends

Saturday, September 18th, 7:50 pm

The leaves are starting to turn orange, although overall the campus remains a lush and vibrant green. It seems that most birds have departed for warmer climates, and the squirrels are growing fatter in preparation for winter. I miss the squabble of chickens from back home; it feels so quiet. Even the crows seem subdued, although that may be the fault of the rain. I found the exoskeleton of a crayfish in the Mill Stream on Friday, but aside from the ducks, I've seen no other animal life within the water. Do the ducks fly south for the winter too? I fear the campus would grow painfully silent without them.

I realize we're not supposed to 'copy' each others' ideas, but I had an interesting slug encounter Friday night. While walking to Matthews, one long beast crossed my path, towing another, smaller one on its tail. Were they mating? Was one ill? I have no idea, but I like to think that they had some sort of cooperative relationship going.

19 September 2010: Crows and Drizzle

Justin Thomas

19 September 2010

6:00-6:45 pm

Willamette University Quad

Light rain

I was outside earlier and I noticed that there were no birds out. Not even crows. This made sense, because it was raining outside. I wondered to myself, "Where do crows stay when it is rainy?" Then later that evening, on my way to dinner at Goudy commons, I noticed a crow perched on the satellite dish on Smullin Hall, and two more crows stationed at the northeast and southeast corners of the Smith Auditorium. It was still lightly drizzling, but the once pure-grey sky had lightened up a bit, and some white clouds were poking through the canopy. The crows weren't there after I came back from dinner.

18 September 2010: Spider Rescue

Justin Thomas

18 September 2010

11:00 p.m. (approx.)

Baxter Dorm 207

Rainy

Last night it started to rain really hard. It started to rain so hard, in fact, that me and my hallmates were compelled to remove our shoes and shirts and go running around in the downpour. After a good ten minutes of screaming and shouting in the rain, we all came back inside and showered/dressed. I was in my room playing my guitar when I noticed a little spider on my wall. It was very near my friend, and when I mentioned the spider, she screamed and jumped off of the bed. I quickly found a loose sheet of paper and goaded the spider onto her escape pod (everyone else in the room wanted to squish her). It was still raining outside, so I put her on the window sill near the stairs (outside of the hall) where she could decide what to do with herself next. Like most spider rescues I have performed, when she crawled to the edge of the paper, she tried to bungee off of it using her convenient butt-web dispenser. But I lifted the paper higher so that she didn't really make any relative progress, until I placed her where I wanted her. After returning to my room, I got the usual criticism for letting a vicious killer like that live to tell the tale. The rain continued to pleasantly drizzle for the remainder of the night.