Finding My Way Home – Making Peace

Finding My Way Home – Making Peace

by | Dec 10, 2023 | Birds, Deserts, Finding my Way Home, Gratitude, Wildlife

Making Peace is the twenty-eighth installment of Finding My Way Home. To view the previous installment, click here. If you wish to start from the beginning, click here. This is the ongoing story of the six years I spent as a vagabond photographer.

Most of the group of snow geese (Chen caerulescens) was resting. But this one had to show off its lovely wings. Photographed at Cibola National Wildlife Refuge, Arizona.
“Show Off”

I’ve planned a short stay in Maricopa, Arizona where I put my son on a train to New Orleans and set off again on my own. The place I’ve chosen is near a feed lot which, depending on the temperature and wind direction, turns out to be occasionally very smelly. There is a flock of great-tailed grackles who roost in the trees across from my site. Each evening they arrive and make quite an amusing racket while they settle in for the night.

As I plan my next stays, with an eye toward meeting Chris in the southern California desert sometime in March, I discover a route which takes me through Needles, California. My friends and family, especially Chris, are somewhat puzzled by my desire to spend time in this run-down, economically depressed place. But, what they don’t realize is my father is buried there.

Female great-tailed grackle (Quiscalus mexicanus) perched at the top of a tree. The males of this species are all black.
“Great Tailed Grackle”

I have very mixed feelings about my dad, who died when I was just twelve years old. On the one hand, he was an alcoholic and compulsive gambler who would sometimes disappear for weeks at a time, leaving my mother and us kids wondering when he might return. On the other hand, he was a charming and fun guy, who had a profound love of nature.

When he was home, we often went on adventures. These were not your normal “Sunday drives.” Often, we would end up stuck in four feet of snow, or four-wheel-driving on precarious jeep trails holding our breath and hoping we didn’t tumble off the side of a cliff. One of the things that bothered him to no end was litter. I remember him stopping the truck so many times and ordering us kids to get out and pick up some trash he had spotted on the side of the road. We never went on vacations to places other families went, like Disneyland or the beach. His idea of fun was always camping, fishing, hunting or hiking, far away from civilization. My love of nature was instilled and fostered by my father.

The American kestrel (Falco sparverius) is the smallest falcon in North America.
“Cute Kestrel”

By the time we lost him, I had never spent an entire school year in the same school. We were always moving, sometimes in the dark of night with no warning. I remember feeling profound envy and sadness when someone would say “best friends since kindergarten,” or “lived here all my life.” Those are things I would never know. I learned to fit in wherever I was, but never tried too hard because I knew it wouldn’t last. In school, I decided learning was more important than friendships because whatever I learned would stay with me, even when the people were gone. And getting straight A’s all the time pleased my parents.

The cause of death was officially suicide, but later in my twenties, I learned that it was more likely murder. He was deep in debt to some rather vicious people and, of course, could not pay. One of my relatives even shared about a phone call in which the caller said they would not only kill him if he didn’t pay, but also make sure his family never received a penny. Life insurance does not pay if the cause of death is suicide. There were other suspicious circumstances that I also only learned of later in life. The end result is that I spent my teenage years being very angry and feeling abandoned. I understand why I wasn’t told the whole truth – I was only a child. Sometimes I wonder if knowing what actually happened would have made a difference. I’ll never know.

Posing among the curly tree branches with the soft colors of the desert in the background, this loggerhead shrike (Lanius ludovicianus) is at home at Cibola National Wildlife Refuge, Arizona.
“Loggerhead Shrike in the Desert”

I make some calls and secure a spot at Needles Marina for the month of January 15 to February 15. Meantime, I head to Ehrenberg, Arizona with an eye on spending some time exploring Cibola National Wildlife Refuge. The RV park is on the shores of the Colorado River, which makes Luna very happy. After spending the first day exploring the park and watching my joyful companion swim to her heart’s content, I’m off to the refuge on our second day. On this day, the visitors center is in a bit of chaos.

In visiting with the person greeting me, I learn that they are in the process of changing volunteers. A new group has just arrived and the group that had been there for several months is leaving. This reminds me that I want to do what they are doing, so I ask a lot of questions. As it turns out, this refuge has a long waiting list of people who wish to volunteer on site, and they prefer couples to singles since they have limited space and wish to have as many bodies as possible. It looks like I will have to find a refuge that is less popular and more in need of volunteers.

A burrowing owl (Athene cunicularia) looking up as another bird flies overhead at Cibola National Wildlife Refuge. These ground-dwelling birds are keenly aware that their main predators are larger birds.
“Watching the Sky”

While Cibola is large (more than 18,000 acres), the most interesting and accessible area is a small plot near the visitors center. In this short auto route, I see large flocks of ducks and geese, including snow geese, several raptors, sandhill cranes, and much to my delight, burrowing owls! This is my first experience with these adorable little owls. At Cibola, they have a robust burrowing owl conservation program. Burrowing owls generally use the burrows of prairie dogs, ground squirrels, or other rodents. Preferring to modify existing underground tunnels, rather than digging their own. In this part of the country, their habitat is being eliminated by development and agriculture.

At this wildlife refuge, staff build tunnels for them, utilizing flexible plastic conduit, and the owls apparently love it. As I drive the loop, I notice many of the man-made burrows, each marked by a small post with a number. I decide to park at a pull out and wait. Sure enough, sitting quietly for a while pays off. Several of the curious little creatures venture out to see what’s going on. I’m thrilled to add this species to my life list.

Burrowing owl (Athene cunicularia) doing its best Groucho impression.
“Groucho”

Once I arrive in Needles, I look up directions to the cemetery. A few years ago, one of our second cousins reached out to my sister about a headstone for my dad’s grave. He was doing some genealogy work and discovered many people in our family did not have markers at their graves. My sister agreed to pay for a headstone and our cousin provided the logistics to have it installed. She has not seen the result of her generosity, so I will take a photo to send her.

“Dad’s Headstone”

I get to the cemetery and something tells me to walk to my left. It’s been forty-five years since the funeral, but I still have a vague memory of the burial. The place is well-kept and freshly mowed, so scanning the names is easy. After walking around for a few minutes, I see his name and it takes my breath away. All of a sudden, I’m twelve again and crying my eyes out. I brush away some of the grass clippings and snap a phone photo for my sister. Then I sit down on the lawn and have a long vent at him. I tell him how angry and disappointed I was as a child and how it has affected my whole life. I scold him for being absent and missing out on every milestone and achievement I ever reached.

Finally, after sitting there for an unknown amount of time, I get up and go back to my car in somewhat of a haze. It feels like I have let go of something I didn’t even realize I’d been carrying around for the past four and a half decades. It’s an overwhelming mixture of relief and exhaustion.

Tiny male Costa's hummingbird (Calypte costae) perched in a tree.
“Perched Male Costas Hummingbird”

I spend the next couple of weeks exploring the area and figuring out what to see and do. Although I am in California, the Colorado River marks the border with Arizona. The Havasu National Wildlife Refuge is just across the river from where I am staying and there are also many public river access points on the Arizona side.

A pair of snow geese (Chen caerulescens) in flight over the desert near the Colorado River at Havasu National Wildlife Refuge, Arizona.
“Pair of Snow Geese in Flight”

When I Google the wildlife refuge visitor center, I end up at the refuge manager’s house, which doubles as the office for the refuge. I’m there looking for information and maps of where to go on the refuge, and also to inquire about volunteer opportunities. The manager is very kind and helpful and I can tell it’s somewhat unusual for someone to show up at the office. He tells me they do not have a resident volunteer program, but lets me know that Bill Williams NWR, about seventy miles south, accommodates on site volunteers.

When I contact them, they tell me that I can put my name on a list, but they have enough volunteers who come back year after year that they probably won’t need me for some time. When I visit, I see why. The place is a snowbird’s paradise, both the avian and human kind. With warm winter weather, fishing, boating and hiking, they have more volunteers than they need.

This female northern harrier (Circus cyaneus) surprised me when it flew from behind some brush and over my head.
“Northern Harrier in Your Face”

My day trip also includes a visit to Lake Havasu City, which is one of the many places we lived when I was a child. The town’s claim to fame is the London Bridge, which was disassembled and brought over by Robert P. McCulloch (of chainsaw fame) in order to drum up real estate sales for the fledgling community he was trying to develop. You can read more about the story on the city’s website. After this short stroll down memory lane, I feel ready to visit Dad one more time before I leave Needles.

A member of the larger family of tyrant flycatchers, the ash-throated flycatcher (Myiarchus cinerascens) is native to the southwestern United States and Mexico.
“Ash Throated Flycatcher”

On this visit, I once again sit down next to him, but I feel more peace than anger. I thank him for sharing his reverence for nature, his sense of adventure, and for teaching me how to fish! For showing me that there is humor and happiness to be found, even in the worst of times. I tell him I learned from him that even the most flawed people can pass the best of themselves on to their children. He would be proud of the person I have become. Thanks Dad. I forgive you.

The tiny Costa's hummingbird (Calypte costae) lives in the deserts of southern California and Arizona.
“Costas Hummingbird in Flight”
Best of 2020 and and The Challenges Ahead

Best of 2020 and and The Challenges Ahead

by | Dec 30, 2020 | Best of, Birds, Blog, Oregon, Photography, Public Lands, Siskiyou County, Waterfalls, Wildlife

As I considered this year’s “best of” post, it almost seemed like an oxymoron. How could 2020, which I’ve deemed the “lost year,” have a best of? But then, as I looked through the photographs I’ve taken in 2020, I realized that the year was not lost at all. Yet, I could not bring myself to simply present a self-indulgent look back on 2020. As I look back through these images, my thoughts are consumed by the massive problems facing the Klamath Basin in general and the wildlife refuges there in particular.

10.) Incoming Snowy Egret

 

 

Snowy egret (Egretta thula) coming in for a landing. Photographed at Tulelake National Wildlife Refuge, California

To say this year has been different would be an understatement. But, aside from the obvious differences we all experienced this year, it was the first year since 2013 that I spent without traveling. Most of 2020 was spent in Tulelake, California, near the wildlife refuges I treasure. The last two months of the year have been spent in Mount Shasta, California. The reason I decided to give up full-time travel and settle in this area is because the Klamath Basin Refuges, where I learned wildlife photography, are in trouble. The trouble has been brewing for a long time, but it is reaching a crisis point. I don’t know what I can do to help, I only know I must do something.

9.) American Bittern Portrait

 

Close up of an American Bittern (Botaurus lentiginosus) among the reeds at the edge of the water. Photographed at Tulelake National Wildlife Refuge, California.

Since I spent most of the year near the Klamath Basin Wildlife Refuges, a majority of my photos were taken on the refuges. While people around the world were experiencing the effects of the disease known as Covid-19, the birds on the Tulelake and Lower Klamath refuges were experiencing a severe outbreak of avian botulism due to lack of water on the refuges. Avian botulism is common in summer on these refuges, but in 2020, it went from a difficult problem to a full-blown disaster.

8.) Female Black-necked Stilt


 

 The female of a pair of black-necked stilts (Himantopus mexicanus) on an algea mat at the waters edge. Photographed at Tulelake National Wildlife Refuge, California.

While the devastating loss of human life to the pandemic has been well documented, perhaps fewer people are aware that an estimated 40,000 to 60,000 aquatic birds perished on the relatively small area of the two refuges this summer. And while the severity of the covid pandemic came suddenly and took many by surprise, the massive die-off of birds has been slowly and predictably building over years, even decades.

7.) Hawk Expression

 

 A red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) expressing itself in no uncertain terms. Photographed at Lower Klamath National Wildlife Refuge, California.

Amid much blaming and finger-pointing, the bottom line of the problem is that there is not enough water to go around. Not enough for farmers and ranchers, not enough for endangered fish, and not enough for wetlands and the birds that depend on them. The way the current system is structured, endangered fish come first, farmers and ranchers next, and birds come last. The result last summer was tens of thousands of waterfowl and other birds dying a slow, horrible death.

6.) Celestial Tern

 

A Forster’s Tern (Sterna forsteri) in flight looking especially angelic. Photographed at Tulelake National Wildlife Refuge, California.

And now, many waterflowl hunters and advocates want to blame the Endangered Species Act and water allocated to protect endangered fish. As if taking water from the fish and giving it to the birds would solve the problem. The issues are very complex and long-standing, with no simple or obvious solution. It seems to me that the Endangered Species Act is to conservation what the emergency room is to health care. Yes, we must try to save the fish, but at the same time, we must try to keep other species healthy and out of the “emergency room.” Letting the emergency patient die, in the name of keeping another patient healthy, would be tragic (not to mention unethical).

5.) Short-eared Owl After Sunset

 

 When the sun sets, the short-eared owl (Asio flammeus) goes to work. Photographed at Tulelake National Wildlife Refuge, California.

There is not space here to explain all the history behind the current situation, but one thing that strikes me as needing change is the Kuchel Act. This is a law, passed in 1964, that was intended as a compromise to prevent land from being stripped out of the refuge for homesteading. It requires the Klamath Basin Wildlife Refuges to lease a certain percentage of refuge land to farmers. While farming on wildlife refuges is not unusual, the percent of land dedicated to farming on the Lower Klamath and especially the Tulelake refuges, is exponentially larger than any other refuges in the U.S. In recent times, the refuge has justified more and more agriculture on the refuges since agriculture has higher priority water rights than the refuges. The argument was that water for crops was better for the wildlife than no water at all. Over the past summer, that argument seemed to implode, as the crops were cultivated, and the birds died.

4.) Mossbrae Shelf

 

 At the north end of Mossbrae Falls, an overhang creates a shelf for the spring water to spill over, flowing through a pile of boulders before joining the Sacramento River below.

Water rights in the West have always been fraught with tension. My own great-grandfather was shot and killed in a disagreement over water on his Kanab, Utah ranch in 1899. As populations increase and climate change worsens, water will only become more scarce. We must use all our creativity and intelligence to make due with less and prevent as much tragedy as possible to both humans and nature. I believe we can rise to this challenge, but we must start now.

3.) Golden Eagle Hunting

 

 A golden eagle (Aquila chrysaetos) in flight. This eagle was in flight hunting the fields at Tulelake National Wildlife Refuge, California.

It is my opinion that farming on the refuges should be greatly reduced over time, and perhaps even phased out altogether. The loss of natural habitat in exchange for agriculture water is no longer a benefit to the wildlife. However, this cannot happen without the refuges being allocated some water for wetlands and wildlife. The past practice of using water designated for agriculture to encourage farming methods that benefit birds has fallen way short when water is scarce, as what happened in summer of 2020. (Here is an article from 2017, which provides a pretty balanced view of the pros and cons of agriculture in the refuges: How Farming Inside Wildlife Refuges Is Transforming Klamath Basin Agriculture )

2.) Watchful Harrier

 

 The male northern harrier (Circus hudsonius), also know as the gray ghost, watches intently as it flies by. Photographed at Tulelake National Wildlife Refuge, California.

This post has turned out quite a bit different than any of my past “best of” posts. The pride and satisfaction I get from wildlife photography pales in comparison to my desire to ensure the preservation and restoration of these two crown jewels of our National Wildlife Refuge System. What happens to these public lands, which belong to you and me and all Americans, is not a done deal. I believe if more people were aware of the problem, there would be a groundswell of support and an abundance of creative solutions put forth which could make all the difference.

1.) Engage Cloaking Device

 

 A ferruginous hawk (Buteo regalis) on the wing downbeat, showing the full extension of its large wingspan. Photographed in the Shasta Valley of Northern California.

And there you have what I consider to be my best images of 2020, as well as some of my biggest concerns for 2021. I realize there are many, many issues that will require attention and solutions in the coming months and years. But, my belief is if each and every one of us would take some action on whatever is most important to us, all those individual actions would make a difference in the world. Our problems are not unsolvable, but they can seem overwhelming. My attention this year will be directed toward finding a solution for the birds of the Klamath Basin. Tell me where yours will be directed in the comments. Happy New Year! Let’s make a difference.

America’s Public Lands – Bosque del Apache

America’s Public Lands – Bosque del Apache

by | Dec 5, 2016 | Birds, Public Lands, Wildlife

On a chilly morning in early November, I crawl out of bed two hours before sunrise, knowing it will take at least an hour to reach my destination. My objective this morning is Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge, a 57,331-acre preserve in south-central New Mexico administered by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. The refuge was established in 1939 by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Each year, it’s estimated that between 10,000 and 30,000 migrating sandhill cranes come to the refuge and adjacent areas to feed and spend the winter. Geese and other waterfowl also spend the winter here, thanks to an intricate web of gates and channels which move water from the Rio Grande through fields and floodplains and back to the river, simulating the natural cycle that has been disrupted by decades of development and diversion.

Loree Johnson Photography; Early Birds; sandhill cranes; Antigone canadensis; sunrise; dawn; bosque del apache national wildlife refuge; new mexico; magnificent birds; in flight; fly; flying; wild; wildlife; morningEarly Birds

As I exit the freeway and drive the five miles to my first stop, the anticipation starts to build, just as the light is beginning to build on the eastern horizon. The parking area near the pond comes into view and it is filled with vehicles. As I get closer, I can make out dozens of human silhouettes with tripods in front of them. Some have cameras mounted, while others support spotting scopes. Many people have cameras or binoculars on straps around their necks. Then, I see why they are there. Thousands of sandhill cranes are gathered in the shallow water around the edges of the pond. I park on the shoulder of the road, since the parking area is filled to capacity. While most of the people are either silent, or speaking in whispers, the birds are raucous and loud. The unmistakable cackling call that is unique to the species is nearly constant. The sense of wonder and awe is apparent on the faces surrounding me.

Loree Johnson Photography; Rise and Shine; flock of sandhill cranes; Antigone canadensis; in the light of sunrise; bosque del apache national wildlife refuge; new mexico; morning; reflection; dawn; birds; wild; wildlife Rise and Shine

My heart is pounding with excitement as I grab my camera and find an open spot on the raised bank above the pond. The birds are beginning to fly, in small groups of four, six, eight, yet it’s still too dark for sharp images of birds in flight. Another photographer remarks to me that we need more light. I nod in agreement.

Loree Johnson Photography; Up With the Sun; sandhill crane; taking flight at dawn; Antigone canadensis; in flight; fly; flying; bosque del apache national wildlife refuge; new mexico; bird; wild; wildlife; sunrise Up With the Sun

Then, the sun begins to break above the partly cloudy horizon, and suddenly flight photos are possible. As the sunrise continues, more and more birds take to the sky. The groups of cranes taking off from the pond are so frequent I hardly know which way to turn. They are flying to my right, my left, behind me, in front of me, in the distance, and just a few feet away. It’s almost dizzying as I try to decide which way to point the camera. I’m feeling good about my decision to leave the tripod in the car, but regret leaving the gloves. I can barely feel my fingers, but don’t want to take the short walk back to the car for fear I will miss the magical dawn light.

Loree Johnson Photography; Three's a Crowd; sandhill cranes; Antigone canadensis; pair; family; in flight at sunrise; dawn; fly; flying; bosque del apache national wildlife refuge; new mexico; birds; wild; wildlife Three’s a Crowd

In less than an hour, the spectacle is over and there are only a handful of cranes left at the pond. As I return to the car, still shivering, partly from excitement and partly from cold, I realize the extra memory card I had in my hand before I set out is still on the table of my dinette–55 miles away! A quick pass through the images on my camera, deleting the ones that were too dark and out of focus, frees up some space for a drive around the auto tour route.

Loree Johnson Photography; Snow Geese in Flight; Chen caerulescens; bosque del apache national wildlife refuge; new mexico; birds; fly; flying; wild; wildlife; formationSnow Geese in Flight

Daylight has revealed some of the other species who call this place home. Raptors, herons, ducks and geese are awake and going about their lives amidst the ever-present and ubiquitous sandhill cranes. As I fill what’s left of the space on my camera’s memory card and head back to the place I’m calling home at the moment, there is a sense that I have experienced something very special and truly unforgettable.

Loree Johnson Photography; Fall Heron; great blue heron; Ardea herodias; autumn leaves as a backdrop; perched on a fallen tree; bosque del apache national wildlife refuge; new mexico; bird; wild; wildlife; season; foliage; scene; scenicFall Heron

Visit the official page of Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge for more information.

 

A disturbing development for nature lovers

A disturbing development for nature lovers

by | Oct 25, 2015 | Birds, Blog, Deserts, Gratitude, Mountains, National Parks, Photography, Rivers, Waterfalls, Wildlife

-UPDATE-

Good news today! (12/17/2015) The LWCF has been authorized for three more years. This is a good start. Hopefully, permanent authorization and funding will follow.

 

I normally avoid political topics on this blog because we all have our own beliefs and circumstances and I have no desire to debate others about theirs, or convince anyone about mine. In fact, the reason I haven’t written anything for over a month is because I’ve been sort of agonizing over whether to write about this or not. But, the failure to renew the Land and Water Conservation Fund has infuriated me. How can anyone justify killing a no-cost-to-taxpayers, bipartisan-supported conservation program that has been working well for more than fifty years? Don’t ask me, ask Congressman Rob Bishop (R-UT), who is responsible for preventing the program’s renewal from ever reaching a vote.

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Clad in glaciers, Mount Rainier reflects the first light of the day, while Tipsoo Lake is still in the dark. Mt. Rainier National Park, Washington.

Apparently, Rep. Bishop has a problem with the federal government purchasing “inholdings,” which are private parcels of land entirely surrounded by National Parks, National Monuments, and National Forests. The funding for these purchases, which are only made when landowners willingly offer the parcels for sale, comes from the LWCF. Without it, there is no money to purchase these inholdings if and when a parcel comes up for sale. What this means is that chunks of land, entirely within the boundaries of protected places, will become available to be purchased by private developers or others with no interest in preservation of public spaces. At best, this means fences, locked gates and “no trespassing” signs. At worst, well it could be anything from mansions, to strip malls, to oil wells, or things like the proposed Escalade Development near the Grand Canyon.

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Over some 300 million years, the San Juan River has carved its way through the southeastern Utah desert, creating one thousand foot deep entrenched meanders, where more than seven miles of river is twisted into less than two miles of space. This unique geological feature is known as The Goosenecks.

When I first heard of this debacle, I searched the internet for information about the LWCF. I got results from all over the country, and especially the west. National, state, and local representatives, non-profit groups, and even businesses, from all over the country are calling for renewal of this program, which not only funds big projects, but smaller ones such as city and county parks, boating and fishing access, and historic location preservation and restoration.

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Iron Creek Falls is a 38 foot (11.6 m) plunge type waterfall in Skamania County, Washington. Set in a shady ravine in the rainforest and surrounded by ferns and moss, this waterfall is a scene straight out of a fairy tale.

While I understand Rep. Bishop may have a problem with the way the fund is administered, I completely disagree that the way to resolve it is by killing off the program. It also appears that rather than representing the interests of his constituents, he may be representing other interests.

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Ousel Falls near Big Sky, Montana, on a beautiful autumn day with a couple spots of sunshine penetrating the shady ravine.

Having spent much of the past year exploring and enjoying public lands in the western US, I may not agree with every detail of how the government manages them. However, it would be a huge mistake to privatize them in reaction. I for one, am immensely grateful that there are protected spaces in this country that belong to all of us. And I truly hope our elected representatives will do the right thing and re-authorize this program before further damage is done. If you would like to learn more about the LWCF and the projects for which it has provided funding, you can visit the program’s home page here.

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Juvenile Norther Harrier (Circus cyaneus) in flight at McNary National Wildlife Refuge, Washington.

To see more of my photography, which is almost entirely from public lands in the western US, including National Parks, National Monuments, and National Wildlife Refuges, visit the “Galleries” tab at the top of this page.

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