Canada Jay on Hurricane Ridge, Olympic National Park

Here's a tough little bird. It lives in cold northern climates, going so far as to nesting in the depths of the winter season. I've only seen them a few times because I don't live in a place where they hang out, although they are common enough within their range. They're willing to eat any available food and will steal to get it (one of their nicknames is "Camp Robber"). It's the Canada Jay (Perisoreus canadensis), which only a year ago was officially called the Gray Jay (The American Ornithological Society is apparently empowered to do such things).

I saw this one while we explored the picnic areas on Hurricane Ridge in Olympic National Park. It's one of the most stunning viewpoints in the country, with the scenery made even better by the rich variety of wildlife species present.

Hairy Woodpecker in the Hoh Rainforest of Olympic National Park

There's this problem with rainforests and birding. Quite a few bird species can be found there, but the green stuff gets in the way. On a given morning walk in my home territory on the Tuolumne River I'll see twenty or more species, because there are large open areas and shrubs and spindly trees for perching. But in the rainforest, in this case the Hoh Rainforest of Olympic National Park, I saw a mere five species. I heard a great many more, but they weren't making themselves visible and I'm not good at bird calls yet. Three of the five were familiar species, a robin, a crow, and a junco, but the other two are rare or nonexistent on my home turf of the Central Valley, a Canada Jay, and a Hairy Woodpecker (Picoides villosus).

Hairy Woodpeckers are found across North America, and I would have a fair chance of spying one in the Sierra Nevada or Coast Ranges back home, but this one on a barren snag in the midst of all the green stuff happens to be the first I've ever seen. Most of the Hairy Woodpeckers are sharply defined black and white colors, but eBird points out that there are regional variations in the species, and that those found in the Pacific Northwest look "coffee-stained". I guess that's appropriate enough...

Barn Swallows on the Oregon-Washington Coast

There are several birds that I see often but have a hard time capturing in a photograph. The Steller's Jays in the last post are an example. Today we visit with another, the Barn Swallow (Hirundo rustica). They are common around the irrigation canals around my home, and they are indeed abundant all over the country (in summer; in winter they are found all over South America). But they don't stay still! They swoop and soar all over the place, and only occasionally stop to rest.

I finally caught a few taking a break during my summer vacation along the Pacific Northwest coast. Several were perched on the roof of a house in Florence, Oregon, and a few days later I found another building a nest in the eaves of the restaurant at Kalaloch Resort on the coast of Washington in Olympic National Park.

The birds are great aerial acrobats, chasing myriad numbers of bugs in the air. Their flying ability also shows in their extensive migrations from South America to North America and back again. They are also adaptable. They once built nests primarily in caves, but fewer do so now. They've taken over eaves and bridges wherever humans develop a landscape.

They are beautiful colorful birds, at least when they sit still long enough for you to get a good look!

A Barred Owl in the Hoh Rainforest, Olympic National Park

Owls are hard. Most of course are nocturnal, and so by definition they can be hard to photograph. Owls live in many different habitats, but deep forests are especially preferred by some, and in the darkness of the forest floor, even in daytime they can be hard to focus on.

We were on our first visit ever to the Hoh Rainforest in Olympic National Park in Washington. We only had a short time, but we made sure to stroll through the Hall of Mosses Trail near the park visitor center. The trail winds through typical (read: extraordinary) rainforest, with Sitka Spruce, Western Hemlock, Douglas Fir, and gigantic maple trees. Moss seems to hang from every branch, but in the drought conditions, the moss was brown and dry as paper.

Mrs. Geotripper spotted the owl before I did (how does she do that??). It was mostly ignoring us and watching the forest floor. After a few moments it flew into the ferns, possibly catching a bit of dinner, and then heading off through the forest.

The closely related Northern Spotted Owl is a rare and endangered species that has been controversial because of its need for old-growth forest habitat for survival. The closure of various regions to logging and other uses has led to court cases over the continued existence of the species.

The Barred Owl, on the other hand is not threatened at all, and indeed has been expanding its habitat. It is primarily a species of the eastern United States, but reforestation and abandonment of farmlands across the midwest (and to a certain degree, global warming) has allowed the owl to expand westward and come into direct competition with the Spotted Owls. It tends to win out, being larger and able to survive in a wider range of habitats. It was first seen in the Olympic rainforest in 1985, and has been expanding its range to the south (see my note on Barred Owls in Muir Woods), mostly at the expense of the Northern Spotted Owls

This one looks a bit ashamed of what it's done, don't you think? But I would never anthropomorphize an animal, of course. Actually, despite the role it has played in the disruption of ecosystems in the northwest, it is a beautiful animal.