Farm Bulletin: Owlets Growing Up

An update on the great horned owl family at Ayers Creek Farm from contributor Anthony Boutard reveals the function of their striking facial disk in helping to locate prey.

Here are the young owls at day 73 minus (top photo; click for larger version). Notably, the adults are raising three young, so they are hunting over many long hours, leaving the young unguarded. You can see the difference in size reflecting the different ages of the birds.

They are developing their immature plumage, including that which defines their facial disk. The disk is important to the owls’ hearing, channelling and amplifying even the softest rustle made by their prey as it moves in the undergrowth and leaf litter. The ears are at the edge of the disk, in line with the eyes. Unlike the barn owl which mostly hunts on the wing over open ground, great horned owls employ a perch-and-pounce method. They will sit perfectly still on a branch, hunched over, “watching” the ground with their ears. The owl has the element of surprise as its prey can’t see the bird, and the soft plumage of the owl means it pounces without a sound.

Great horned owls are by nature nocturnal hunters, but when raising young they are hunting even when roosting during the day to avoid garnering the attention of crows and other noisy objectors to their presence. Late in the afternoon last week, [Carol's sister] Sylvia asked to see the young. I was a bit tired and grumpy, and opined sourly that she would see nothing so late in the day. As we looked at the snag trying to pick out the young, both adults returned to the redoubt with prey at the same time. So much for a promised dull moment.

Read the first owl post of 2018. Read more and see Anthony's fantastic photos from previous years.

Farm Bulletin: The Owls of Ayers Creek Farm

Contributor Anthony Boutard has written often over the years about the owls that inhabit the land that he and Carol tend in the Wapato Valley just west of Portland. Valued residents, these nocturnal predators serve to exercise some population control over the various mice, voles and other creatures that love the crops from this acreage as much as its human fans.

Twenty years ago, when we settled on the farm, there was a great horned owl that we would flush from time to time. As we got to know the place, we would watch the young on an old Douglas fir snag. Owls do not build a nest, but find a suitable location where they can lay an egg. As that snag disintegrated, the owl moved to an old red-tailed hawk nest high in a living fir. That nest was occupied for several years until a wind storm knocked the top out of another fir, and they took over that redoubt. I cannot say for certain that the pair of owls we see today are the same as those we saw 20 years ago, but they can lead long lives if they can find a secure place to live. Spooky the Owl at the Boston Museum of Science lived to 38, allowing me to bring Caroline to see the same bird I had marveled at when I was a child.

Fortuitously, in her new nest location we could observe her from our bedroom. As the owls prepare to raise a clutch they become vocally amorous, indicating that the female is going to settle on the nest. This year, she started brooding in the early morning hours of the 4th of February. The laying of the second egg was unobserved, but probably happened about ten days later. The female will sit on the nest continuously for nearly two months keeping the eggs, and later the chicks, warm. The male will provide her food during her brooding.

Last year, the owls raised a brood, but the chicks never made it to fledging. I am not sure what happened, but it is a wonder any owlet survives as they leap from the nest while unable to fly. If they land to close to the ground or are too exposed, they are a fine morsel for a variety of predators and scavengers. A few years ago, the owls raised three chicks, but the third was developmentally challenged. It was never able to fly properly but lived well into the following spring. I suspect it met its demise at the talons of a migrating Coopers hawk or goshawk.

I have been watching to see when the chicks would show themselves. That happened on Thursday. The chicks were just big enough and the weather mild enough, that the owl could take a much needed stretch atop the snag. For a couple more weeks, that is as far as she will venture from the chicks. Today, I had a moment to set up the camera. Here is a photo of the two chicks and the female.

Read Anthony's posts, accompanied by his wonderful photographs, about previous broods of the farm's great horned owls.

Photo by Anthony Boutard.

Farm Bulletin: The Owlets Emerge from Seclusion

We have lived in our Portland neighborhood for more than twenty years. In that time we have observed the lives of our neighbors, the growth of their children from babies to adults and the peculiarities of their habits, developing theories along the way as to why they do the things they do. In much the same way, contributor Anthony Boutard and his wife Carol have tracked the lives of their neighbors at Ayers Creek Farm, the birds, insects and other denizens that share their habitat.

As we noted almost a month ago, our two owl chicks had left the nest and entered into a state of seclusion. We could hear their faint mewing, akin that of a hungry kitten, but small, well-camouflaged and tucked into the tree boughs, they remained out of sight. Someone unaccustomed to this moment might assume they had died or flown away. It took us a few years to understand this time in the birds' lives.

Last week, the young owls emerged from their month of seclusion. They can hop and glide from branch to branch and make short attempts at flight. It will be another month before their growing muscles and feathers will allow them to fly with their mother.

The home range of the great horned owl (Bubo virginianus) extends from northern Argentina to Alaska, including all of the mainland United States, from the coasts to the mountains, from the rain forest to the desert. Within this range, the size, habits and coloration of the owl vary according to habitat. These variations are summarized and characterized by about 20 subspecies, though the variations are not really discrete but are representative for certain geographic areas. The great horned owls that Carol and I observed in New England are longer in body and bear more brown and cinnamon plumage than their Oregon brethren. In the Garry oaks of our savannah, the eastern form would be conspicuous, but the local variant blends in perfectly, as seen at left (click photo to enlarge). The young owl is easily mistaken for a stub of a branch, or just more bark.

As they feel more secure and move further out onto the branches, their silhouette betrays them. They have also become noisier, uttering irritating screeches even during the day. By the end of autumn, they will disperse. That is the most hazardous moment they will encounter, as they seek a safe breeding territory. Cars and power lines will pose a big threat, as will other predators and trigger-happy humans. In past winters, we have seen owl carcasses along Spring Hill Road.

These large owls can live up to 30 years; the parents of these young owls have been here at least 18 years, as far as we can tell. However, attrition is very high in that dispersal period and the harsh reality is that these two birds will probably never feed their own young. Though any that survive that first year can expect a long life. References indicate an average of about 22 years.

As children, my parents brought us to the Museum of Science in Boston. Every year I looked forward to the demonstration with Spooky the great horned owl (right), the engaging ambassador of the Strigiformes, the owl order. Years later, our daughter Caroline and I went to the museum and they had an owl there. I went up to admire the bird and told its handler about my fond memories of Spooky. He smiled and said "This is Spooky." At that point, the owl was already older than me, and lived for several more years, dying at 38. With luck, the owls outside my window could actually outlive me.

Interestingly, a few years ago, we reported that the Ayers Creek owls raised three young. The third was never strong and could barely fly even as it acquired its adult plumage. Through the autumn and into the following spring we would occasionally flush it. The owl would glide low and into the brush. It retained its screechy, immature call. Eventually it disappeared, probably died one way or another, as it was obviously incapable of the dispersal flight.

Authors are given to lurid stories about owl clutches consuming their weaker siblings. After observing the owls and their young at Ayers Creek for just shy of two decades, I find such tales unbelievable, an artifact of our desire to remain aloof from the creatures that surround us. I have watched the young owls sit and groom one another, and huddle together when crows or hawks pass overhead. They share their food and the younger, smaller sibling is indistinguishable after three months. The Ayers Creek chicks have always matured together, and when rodents are scarce they simply grow a little slower. That is happening this year. Even that obviously weaker third sibling made it to maturity and was probably hobbled more by genetic problems due to its parents' unusual fecundity than a lack of food. Breeding does carry a heavy toll for the hen in particular. At least, that is my hunch.

Photos of owlets by Anthony Boutard. Photo of Spooky from The Boston Globe.

Farm Bulletin: An Empty Nest at Ayers Creek Farm

Watching and waiting are hallmarks of farming, and contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm has been observing the great horned owls' nest in the stand of firs near their home for months. Though they are wild creatures with lives beyond domestication, a certain attachment occurs over time, and this week brought a poignant moment. As the Bard said, "parting is such sweet sorrow…"

The last couple of days it was obvious that the owlets were about to depart. The eldest was perching atop the snag, and even the younger bird was standing tall on his legs. In the morning twilight, as I watched the older bird surveying the neighboring trees and exercising its stubby wings high on its perch, I knew they would leave. By the time the sun moved above Bald Peak and there was enough light for a good photograph, there was just one in the nest. In the photograph you can see the older owl tucked into the fir boughs (top photo).

The empty nest.

Once they can perch on a branch, they are ready to leave the exposed setting of the nest. It will be a few weeks before they can attempt flight, and months before they can do so gracefully. At this point they are essentially arboreal penguins. The movements are nothing more than hop-and-flop. During the next month, they will build up their flight muscles and grow in their primary feathers on their wings. It will probably be a while before we catch a glimpse of them again. They are hyper-furtive at this stage. This year we have a raccoon skulking about so life is a bit more hazardous.

When I returned from St. Paul in the early afternoon, the nest was empty. They will perch close together and very quietly, no keening or other activity to draw attention to them. This is the first time since the 21st of February with no owls atop the snag. That urine-splashed redoubt will have no significance to the owls, no sentimental returns to the old homestead. They will remain safely tucked in the fir boughs closer to where the red-tailed hawks nest. A doubling of the raptor watch duties perhaps. The snag remains a Grand Hotel of sorts with cavity nesters still raising young. A second brood of starlings is in the hole beneath the nest. The young owls will leave the farm in the late autumn. Sometime next February, the hen will settle down for another reproductive vigil.

Farm Bulletin: Great Horned Owl Update

Contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm sends along a photographic update on the great horned owl pair that has now hatched two owlets in a Douglas fir snag on the farm. So cute!

Farm Bulletin: First Sighting of the Owlets

Each spring finds contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm observing the pair of great horned owls that make their nest in a snag out behind the farmhouse. The eggs the female laid have now hatched and the young owlets are making their debuts.

Here are some shots of the eldest great horned owlet. The first shot (top photo) caught a starling leaving her brood [the starling's head is poking out of a cavity at the bottom center of the photo]. The other owlet is still too small to sit up properly. These owls start incubating their eggs as soon as they are laid, so there will be a noticeable lag in maturity between the first laid and the second. As far as I can tell, there are two chicks this year, which is normal.

Other birds wait to incubate until the whole clutch is laid. The starling nesting in the cavity immediately below the owls follows this pattern, so all of her chicks will leave the nest within a few hours of one another. This decaying fir snag hosts many different birds, including nuthatches, chickadees, brown creepers and flickers. I wouldn't be surprised if a wren also found a suitable nesting cavity there. The owl's nest is about 150 feet from a red-tail hawk nest. That snag also hosts a variety of birds.

Over the past two weeks, several pairs of wood ducks have been eying the nesting boxes we put up for them. It is hard to suppress a double take when you see a pair of ducks roosting in a tree. The birds nesting in the fir are all what is termed "altricial." Their young are helpless when born, and remain in the nest for a few weeks tended by their parents. The wood duck lays her eggs over a period of ten days to a fortnight, and then goes broody, just like her neighbors. When she starts incubating the eggs, the embryos will begin their development synchronously.

However, her young are "precocial." Within hours of hatching, the downy young will leap from the nest and follow their parents to the water. Although ducks live on the water, the nests can be some distance away. At the farm, we have encountered mallard and black duck nests a quarter mile from the nearest water. Although these birds avoid the bald eagles, osprey and harriers that hunt the marshland,  coyotes, weasels and skunks are on the prowl for those upland nests.

Farm Bulletin: The Great Horned Owl Watch Begins

Every year as winter transitions to spring at Ayers Creek Farm, contributor Anthony Boutard and his wife Carol scan the skies and listen for the sound of the farm's pair of great horned owls beginning their courtship ritual. In a stand of evergreens a few hundred yards from the farmhouse is a broken snag where for years the owls have raised their young. In his own ritual, Anthony sets up his tripod and binoculars and watches as they lay their eggs and raise their young.

Announcing the reproductive effort of a bird presents a dilemna. Is it when the egg is laid, or when it hatches? For us, it is easier to announce the laying of the egg. We knew it was coming given a couple of days of the seasonal courtship palaver. Last night, our great horned owl hen (above center, barely visible) laid her first egg and has settled down for almost two months on the nest. The next egg will follow in a few days. A third is possible, but most years there are just two hatchlings that emerge. The first chick will hatch in about 28 days [from Feb. 21st].

Her mate—they are monogamous and mate for the long term—will feed her for the first month and a half, or until the chicks have grown enough that they can be left unattended. The two birds communicate regularly and have different voice. During this vigil, the male hunts in our oak savannah. As the chicks grow and need more food, he will roost and hunt in a grove of ash trees about a half-mile away. The female will take over the hunting in the savannah.

The laying of the egg happens in February, but the day varies every year. In 2012 on the 15th, 2013 on the 14th, and in 2014 it was on the first and 2015 on the 13th. Pretty late this year.

Ayers Creek Owl Update: Family Portrait

Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm is keeping me updated on the Great Horned Owl nest in the top of a snag near their house. This morning the mother organized her young ones for an official portrait. (Click on either photo to see a larger version.)

Here is the trio of owlets. Recall, the eggs are laid several days apart, and the female has to start incubating immediately or the eggs will freeze and die. The first egg was laid the 1st of February and the third around the 20th. The size difference between the three owlets remains obvious, with the eldest sitting next to the mother. Their immature plumage is emerging and the facial disc is well developed. Any day now they will leave the nest and roost in the fir limbs. It will be nearly a month before they can actually fly, but they will be able to hop about the trees and build their flying muscles.

Ayers Creek Owl Update: Three!

Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm is keeping me updated on the Great Horned Owl nest in the top of a snag near their house. This morning the mother had a surprise waiting for him when he came out to take look!

This morning's sun on Day 68 revealed a fuller nest than I expected. There are three owlets. Just the top of the head of third is visible to the right. The older siblings are developing their immature plumage and the barest signs of ear tufts are visible. The surly gang is growing quickly and keeping the parents busy. This is the first time there have been more than two young.

In the hole beneath the owls, a starling has set up house. She darts in and out all day long. A busy tree.

Photos by Anthony Boutard.

Ayers Creek Owl Update: Release!

Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm is keeping me updated on the Great Horned Owl nest in the top of a snag near their house. And yes, that little lump of grey just below her to the left are the two owlets!

After 51 days on the nest, the mother took a moment to enjoy the morning's sunshine. The first time we have seen her off the nest since that afternoon on the first of February when she sat down and laid her first egg.

Ayers Creek: Owl Update

Whenever I visit Anthony and Carol at Ayers Creek Farm this time of year, I can count on finding the tripod and telescope set up near the house, focused on the top of a big snag in the stand of firs about 200 feet away. The top of that broken snag has, for the last several years, been home to a great horned owl's nest and, while I didn't see the owlets on my recent visit, Anthony assures me they've hatched by now.

The mother owl laid her eggs about a month ago just as the snow and freezing rain storms hit the area, and Anthony took a picture of her sitting on her nest, her head covered in snow (left). Once the eggs are laid, she doesn't leave the nest for at least 40 days, made possible because her mate keeps her (and the babies when they hatch) fed until they develop enough down to keep themselves warm.

Hopefully the tiny fuzzy heads of the owlets will poke out when Anthony's got his camera hooked up to the telescope and we'll get a good look at them. I'll keep you posted.

Farm Bulletin: Indicators of Spring

Here in the city we're seeing the green spears of daffodil leaves poking up from the dirt, and my red sorrel is unfurling in the raised bed. Out at Ayers Creek Farm, contributor Anthony Boutard sees other signs that the turning of the season is at hand.

The large predators are often described as indicator species by ecologists. On the 1st of February, around 2:30 pm, our great horned owl laid her first egg and settled in for a month of broodiness. Last weekend she was dusted with snow, and now her plumage will have to shed the rain. Don't feel badly for her. She would be out in the snow and rain anyway, and her mate is keeping her well fed as she sits on the eggs and later keeps their chicks warm.

The second egg was likely laid around Wednesday of this week, judging by the amorous sweet nothings we heard a bit earlier. Otherwise, they discuss more prosaic matters and keep track of one another sotto voce all night long; her voice is low and soft, his moves about the savannah and is higher and sharper with an urgent edge. In about four weeks, we will see the first downy face poke out from under its mother's wing.

For us, the owls are an indicator species with a different twist; the incubation of the eggs indicates it time for us to attend to matters close at home as well. Even though 2013 was, in the technical jargon of farmers, a real stinker at every turn, we always know the next season will be the best ever, our version of the Big Rock Candy Mountains, otherwise why would we bother. Machinery needs maintenance and repairs, perennial crops need pruning and fertilizing, buildings need sprucing up, and the early crops, chickpeas and favas, need planting as soon as the opportunity presents itself. The nesting boxes for the birds need cleaning and we are putting up a new development for the kestrels on the south side of the property. More on that interesting project later.

Consequently, tomorrow will be the last time until July that I load up the van for the Hillsdale Farmers' Market this season. I will have corn in its various forms, sweet and Virginian potatoes, soft red wheat kernels, adzukis, onions, squash, ash gourds, preserves, cayennes and plenty of horseradish.

We return to the market on the 6th of July. This year, our annual farm ramble will take place the Sunday, the 5th of October. It is about time for a harvest season ramble, and a good opportunity for you all to see our new harvest shed, as well as the many other changes that are afoot for 2014.

Photos by Anthony Boutard from 2012. 

Farm Bulletin: The Owl Lays Her Egg

The female great horned owl that has made a nest and laid her eggs in the top of an old snag at Ayers Creek Farm has come back to raise another clutch of eggs. The nest is about 40 feet off the ground in a cluster of evergreens 100 yards from contributor Anthony Boutard's back door and, as before, he's set up his binoculars on a tripod near the house to monitor her progress.

Last Saturday, getting a jump on the groundhog, our great horned owl laid her first egg around 2:30 pm. It is two weeks earlier than in recent years, when she has shown a preference for Valentine's Day. She certainly picked a tough year to start early.

Here she is, stuck like glue on her egg, getting plastered with snow and freezing rain. The rain blurs her a bit, but she is tucked into the top of the snag and you can see her ear tufts keeping track of me and the camera. Sometime later this week, she will likely lay a second egg.

Farm Bulletin: Barn Owl Update

In a previous post, contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm wrote of his discovery of a barn owl chick that had fallen out of its nest. It seemed unhurt, so he returned it to its siblings, not without some amount of effort. Here is an update.

The parents have raised a total of three young, including, presumably, the one crammed back in the barrel. The owlets now sport their immature plumage, with just wisps of down lingering.  They are now flying in and out of their nest box, but not yet graceful in flight. Physically, though, they are at their prettiest at this point. What a difference a fortnight makes.

Farm Bulletin: A Small Act of Kindness

Working with nature in its cyclical processes is the main occupation of a successful farmer. Occasionally it means choosing to intervene in its harsher aspects, as contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm describes.

Yesterday morning, we were greeted by this barn owl chick. It is just beginning to develop its immature plumage on its wings. They are hideous and lack charm until they fledge.

It had been tossed or fallen out of the nest. Sort of hard to say. Most years we find a dead chick or two on the barn floor. Earlier this week, a much smaller chick lay dead beneath a nest in our other barn.

Not relishing the task of putting it back up in the box, and cautious lest it had an illness, we waited until mid-afternoon. Still alive and punchy, show no signs of malaise, we decided it was worth returning to the nest. We grabbed it, scaled the ladder and jammed it back into the box. Our effort was rewarded by a horrible and sustained hissing from the other occupants. Checked this morning and there is no sign of the beast on the barn floor, so it is probably fine.

Barn owls are excitable and humorless creatures, make a mess of the place and equipment with their casts and urine, but seeing their ghostly forms over the fields at night makes them tolerable companions.

Farm Bulletin: Owl Update

Even with all the work to do on the farm at this time of year, what with plants surging out of the ground, torrential rain and hail, plus a farm tour to prepare for (bunting, anyone?), contributor Anthony Boutard takes time to fill us in on the latest chapter of the Ayers Creek Farm Great Horned Owl Saga.

Sunday evening, I noticed the owl on her regular hunting perch, in silhouette with the sun streaking through the big leaf maple leaves.

No thanks, no photos today.

With two young to feed, she is hunting whenever the opportunity allows. She was so nicely framed in the branches that I hauled out the camera with the 400 mm chunk of glass, though I expected her to flush. She spotted me but had no intention of moving from her prime hunting spot, and getting nattered at by robins and kestrels in the bargain. Then again, she had little interest in being a model either.

Now please go away.

Instead, she gave me the stink-eye and, as you see in the second shot, moved in a deliberate fashion a bit further up the branch. She settled behind a bunch of leaves that obstructed my view and returned to her task. I left her be for the rest of the evening. 

Photos by Anthony Boutard. Track the progress of this owl family with Who's Minding the Frogs, the Great Horned Owl Follow-Up and Leaving the Nest.

Farm Bulletin: Leaving the Nest

Many farmers are keen observers of the life of their land, but few are as clear-sighted as contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm, who has taken on the stewardship of his land like the scientist that he is. This includes the insects, animals, birds and humans that it supports. Recently his eye has been focused on a great horned owl that built a nest within view of his camera lens.

Last night, the two owlets were in the nest, and when I woke up this morning it was empty. It has been a little over two and a half months since the hen laid the eggs, and now they are fledglings moving about the fir boughs. At this point, they are more hoppers than fliers, and sometimes the wings seem to hinder more than help. They are furtive and hard to see tucked into the tree canopies.

The empty nest.

One hopped out in plain view for a moment (top photo). The facial disk is well developed, and the darker, immature plumage is replacing the silvery down they had as nestlings. They are also getting their ear tufts, or horns. In a couple of weeks they will start flying, and they will roost together, if all goes well. Even with a fiercely protective mother, this is a hazardous moment for the birds. They need more food as they grow, so the mother is in hunt mode all day.

I am not sure, but I think her mate may roost and hunt in another place. This grove of trees is small, and they share it with a pair of nesting red-tailed hawks.

Photos by Anthony Boutard. Track the progress of this owl family with Who's Minding the Frogs and the Great Horned Owl Follow-Up.

Farm Bulletin: Great Horned Owl Follow-Up

I just got a note from contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm that the farm now has two great horned owlets added to its population.

Anthony writes: "I have been watching the owls carefully, and today the mother finally tired of sitting on her nestlings. A brief moment of sunshine allowed me to shoot this picture. They are about 24 days out of the egg, give or take a day or two."

Hope this makes your day the way it did mine!

Photos by Anthony Boutard. Click on the top photo to see it full size. Track the progress of this owl family with Who's Minding the Frogs and Leaving the Nest.

Farm Bulletin: Who's Minding the Frogs?

One of the reasons that I reprint the marvelous essays that Anthony Boutard sends to his market mailing list is because of his ability to capture the ineffable quality of the land and the creatures that live on it, creatures that he and his wife Carol have worked diligently to bring back to Ayers Creek Farm. His keen eye, his wit and his passion for the farm, as well as his concern for its well-being, as expressed in this essay, give glimpses into a world so close by but that we rarely hear about.

Fourteen years ago this month, we made an offer on the 144 acres that has become Ayers Creek Farm. We followed the excellent advice of Cato the Censor regarding the most important considerations in purchasing a farm: water, roads and neighbors (aquam, viam, vicinum). Although Cato was thinking of the other farms as the neighbors, for us the Y-shaped draw that cuts through the farm is now an important part of our neighborhood. Flanked by ancient Garry oaks, Douglas firs, a couple of madrones, big-leaf maples, hawthorns and service berries, this is the marrow of the farm. In using "marrow," both senses of the word apply: the life-sustaining core of the farm's bones and, in old English vernacular, a partner or spouse.

When we arrived at the farm, the draw was choked with blackberries and used for decades as a dump. Water heaters by the dozens, engine blocks, stoves, refrigerators and other appliances, along with great coils of barbed wire, had been been pushed into the thorny mess. Over a two year period, we cleaned it up, hauling out the blackberries and appliances. It took longer for draw's function to return, but over time native plants reestablished themselves. Each year, we see improvements as we patrol, shovel in hand, for surviving blackberries.

This marrow of the farm now supports a pair of red-tailed hawks, three or four kestrel families and a pair of great horned owls. The owl laid the first of her eggs last Wednesday, and is brooding (right; click to enlarge). The second egg will be under her soon. The kestrels and red tails are amorous and will join the broody owl in their nesting tasks. Over the summer, flickers, wrens, brown creepers, orioles, acorn woodpeckers, nuthatches, tanagers, various warblers and juncos will all raise clutches in the draw and on its flanks. The engine that supports this diversity is the complex mixture of grasses and broadleaf plants that grow on the ground once choked off by blackberries and appliances. The grubs and caterpillars that eat the leaves in turn feed the growing chicks. And some of those growing chicks will fatten the young owls, hawks and falcons.

In the wet soil at the base of the draw, a healthy population of red legged and tree frogs developed. They migrated out into the oak savannah and the cropped fields during the summer and early autumn. Dozens made their home around the house, seeking shelter in the shiplap siding during the day. They were constantly underfoot. Many came inside with the house plants, and we enjoyed their calls during the winter. The large, phlegmatic salamanders (Pacific ambystomas) also started appearing in the fields. The increasing populations of these amphibians validated our management efforts. We have come to terms with the fact that farming is necessarily disruptive of natural communities, but having the reinvigorated marrow of the farm offsetting our activities is a balm.

Late last April, following the release of radiation from the damaged Fukushima Dai-ichi reactors and its detection over the Pacific Northwest, we corresponded with a customer regarding its effect on our food. Our response was that lighter radioactive isotopes carried by the wind have a short half-life and by the time our fruits and vegetables are growing the weather pattern would shift away from the Pacific storm pattern. As I responded I thought to myself that if there was a problem, the frogs would be the first affected. We heard the peepers through the spring.

In July, when we started harvesting greens for market, we noticed the frogs had almost disappeared. Where we would disturb a dozen or more frogs any other year, we were lucky to see just one, and it was invariably small. The fields were silent, none of their rasping calls. In the evening we noticed that even the bull frogs in the wetland had ceased calling. We searched the siding: the smudges where the frogs crawled in and out remained, but there were no green faces staring at us – an eerie Mary Celeste moment. We asked Zenón if he noticed anything different with the frogs. He shrugged his shoulders and said he thought there were plenty. Two days later, when he was working in the sweet potatoes, prime tree frog habitat, he called us over and said we were right, they had gone. When I had a moment, I went down the the ditch below the poplars, another reliable frog habitat, and the Leopard and Bull frogs were also missing. We decided to wait and see if things changed; it was a cool spring.

For months we have been watching and listening. Friday afternoon, we heard a single frog calling in the draw, a hopeful sign, but a far cry from previous years. Over the past decade, a chytrid fungus has decimated frog populations around the world, including high altitude populations in the Cascades—maybe it has encroached upon the valley floor. Perhaps frog populations are naturally cyclic and the cold spring was at fault. However, it was hard to shake off the knowledge that as our frogs were drawn by vernal rites to the water, the storms over the Pacific were delivering a radioactive welcome. Salamanders (right, above) are also missing from their usual haunts. Like the frogs, these are fragile amphibians who must leave their protected lairs and travel, sometimes miles, to the ponds and wetlands where they mate, and the larval stages mature.

Fifty years ago, Rachel Carson's Silent Springwarned us to pay attention to the damage we do to the world around us. The book was elegantly written, and carefully research and documented. Sadly, half a century later, Carol and I are waiting anxiously to see if the frog ponds remain silent this spring. We seem to be alone in this vigil, getting blank stares when we raise the matter, and I have hesitated to even broach the subject in a newsletter though it gnawed at me for months. Bees have their beekeepers and birds have their birdwatchers to sound the alarm when all is not right. Someone has to mind the frogs.

Photos (excepting the frog on the bean leaf) by Anthony Boutard. Track the progress of the owl family with the Great Horned Owl Follow-Up and Leaving the Nest.

Farm Bulletin: A Peaceable Kingdom

In the middle of the frenzy that is the summer harvest, this week contributor Anthony Boutard stops to remind us about the other creatures that call Ayers Creek Farm home, and to ponder his and Carol's role as caretakers of the land.

The waxing gibbous moon rises in the late afternoon and reaches its apogee during first half of the night. As the moon develops its belly, it provides more light for the coyotes as they move about the farm. They often chatter, a kind of "I'm here, where are you?" mixture of barks and yips. They also have their choral moment which starts out with calls and responses, followed by a rising crescendo of barks, verging on a howl. It ends abruptly. They call mostly at night. Interestingly, their conversations are never overtly aggressive; we never hear snarling or fighting among them.

Coyotes are furtive animals, though in the spring when food is short they are less reticent to show themselves. Often a coyote will shadow the tractor as we mow the berry rows, pouncing on the fleeing voles (left). At the southern end of the berries is a small canyon with a dense thicket of native roses along its eastern flank. In early April we spotted four very small coyote pups along the edge of the roses, which we mistook for rabbits at first sight. By May, they were bigger and given to playing outside of the briars, and the count rose to eight pups.  That is on the high side for a litter. During this time, the mother hunted all through the day.

Through the summer months, the coyote diet is almost entirely fruit. They eat a lot of cherries early in the summer, followed by prunes, blackberries and then grapes. This summer fructivory performs a valuable service for us by cleaning up the fallen fruit. The energetic demands are lower in the summer, so the coyotes' "Dick Gregory" diet makes sense. In addition, the dry summer soils make it hard to excavate rodent nests. Come the autumn rains, they will shift back to rodent hunting. Regardless of the season, birds are an insignificant part of a coyote's diet.    

As organic farmers, we judge the health of our land by the health of the predator populations. In addition to the eight coyote pups, our barn owls raised five owlets (right) and fields are thick with tree frogs. When we see good numbers of weasels, spiders, snakes, dragon flies and lacewings, we are comforted knowing there is a shadow productivity, a separate harvest, that works in concert with our efforts to grow nutritious food.

In the legal world of organic agriculture, it takes three years to earn certification. At the ecological level, it generally takes a farm many more years to recover from the chemical assault of modern agriculture. Recolonizing the land with a diverse guild of predators is a slow process, and we still see holes in the structure after 12 years of managing this patch above Ayers Creek. For example, we have only seen one western fence lizard here, and we should have a good mix of these reptiles. We suspect the absence of a corridor for recolonization leaves us bereft these animals. Someday we will wake up and see some lizards, and know the farm is a little bit more complete.

You can find the Boutards most Sundays from 10 am until 2 pm at the Hillsdale Farmers' Market. For a complete schedule of Willamette Valley farmers' markets, along with maps and links, click here.