Close to My Heart

Naturally, we want to protect the things closest to our hearts, so I am asking for help in conserving a piece of nature close to mine.

Wetlands at the Davis Creek Wildlife Area Unit.

Two weeks ago, the Washington State Department of Fish and Wildlife (WSDFW) announced a set of land-acquisition projects for 2020. Of course, all of these projects are important to expanding the department's conservation and wildlife efforts, and I support each of them, but tucked in amongst the others, you'll find one of special value to me.

The Davis Creek Addition represents the only piece of Grays Harbor County to make the list of possible acquisitions. It would add 416 acres to the existing 535-acre Davis Creek Wildlife Area Unit and would provide key habitat for many bird species. Those are all great reasons to support this proposed acquisition if you have never visited this out-of-the-way pocket of southwest Washington, but I have personal reasons as well.

An old farm provided the land for the existing wildlife area.
Now, WSDFW has an opportunity to add to the unit with the
acquisition of land both north and south of it.

Protecting the land on the Davis Creek Addition feels like protecting a part of myself. I've felt similar feelings for other conservation efforts before, but this part of me resides right in my core because that property sits so close to where I was raised. I've driven by it hundreds of times. Friends from childhood lived within walking distance of it. I remember playing on the prairie just across the road. So when I visited the Davis Creek Unit a few days ago, the importance of protecting and expanding it enveloped me. I felt intimately connected to it, and I realized that conserving it means safeguarding a piece of my heart.

WSDFW will take comments on the 2020 acquisition projects until January 3. You can e-mail your comments to lands@dfw.wa.gov or mail them to: Real Estate Services, PO Box 43158, Olympia, WA 98504.

With all my heart, I hope you'll join me in asking WSDFW to purchase the Davis Creek Addition.

By Necessity, By Design, By Me

Some things don't go exactly like they are drawn up, and some things do. In the case of my work for the Black Hills Audubon Society, both are true.

When I started helping the Black Hills Audubon Society in May, my duties focused on managing the organization's Facebook page. That's gone well. However, a new twist developed in August when the organization sent out a call for help on an upcoming brochure. I'd done some layout projects and worked with graphic designers before, but I had never created a brochure on my own, so I offered to help on this project if the organization couldn't find a professional graphic designer who would work for free.

A look at the brochure I created for
the Black Hills Audubon Society.

Necessity took over when Black Hills Audubon couldn't land a pro. I was it, so they turned to me, and I turned my attention to figuring out what I needed to do. Before I met with them to discuss the project in detail, I created a rough sketch of a simple trifold brochure. My goal was to tell a visual story with the images guiding the reader's eye. Slightly to my surprise (after all, I wasn't a layout expert), they liked it and turned me loose with their only request being that I use a Microsoft Word template, a stipulation that made my design work a bit easier.

That rough sketch proved an effective guide. Using the photographs and text Black Hills Audubon provided and a brochure template I thought worked well, I implemented my vision. By the time I sent out a draft for comments, I started feeling considerable excitement and pride about the product. It just looked good! At least, I thought it did. Still, I was again a little surprised when they agreed with my assessment without requiring any major changes. They were happy, and that made me even happier.

When I received copies of the finished brochure, I couldn't help but smile. There it was: My vision, my design, and my work, all derived from necessity, smoothly developed, and successfully executed.

Back in May, I didn't know my foray into managing a Facebook page would lead to designing and laying out a brochure, but I am glad for the challenge and the chance to put my stamp on this project for Black Hills Audubon.

The Real Lost World

It's quite an irony that we make films about the dangers of bringing dinosaurs back from extinction while we threaten the existence of their avian descendants.

Jurassic Park and its four sequels like The Lost World: Jurassic Park have hit home the consequences of wielding genetic power to resurrect the dinosaurs. One of the themes from the films challenges humans to think about the damage they may inflict before mindlessly plowing ahead with a harmful action.

We aren't bringing dinosaurs back at any point in the near future though, so it might be best to first examine how we already impact existing species. If we don't want to stray too far from dinosaurs, let's check out what we are doing to birds, the dinosaurs' living legacy.

A rufous hummingbird, one of the species
most at risk of extinction from global warming.

In a new report, Survival by Degrees: 389 Bird Species on the Brink, the Audubon Society shows how global warming threatens two-thirds of all bird species in North American with extinction. Half of the species in Washington state alone face extinction from a temperature increase of three degrees Celsius. Instead of the power to create addressed by Jurassic Park, we are wielding the power to destroy, and we are doing it just as recklessly as John Hammond and the host of other characters who tried to cash in on dinosaurs.

The report from the Audubon Society does a great job of helping us visualize the possible consequences of our actions. We should take it as an opportunity to consider where we go from here.

No horror from any of the Jurassic Park stories could match the awfulness of wiping out the animals most closely related to dinosaurs.

Different This Time

For my hike at Mount Rainier this summer, I chose a familiar trail and came away with a new view of it.

In 2016, I hiked the trail at Rampart Ridge near Longmire. The experience stayed with me as one of my favorite places at Mount Rainier National Park. In fact, it made such an impression on me that I blogged about it here. The one thing that trip lacked was a view of the mountain. Heavy clouds that made for a misty, mystical hike also concealed Rainier, creating an opportunity for a return visit and a fresh look at Rampart Ridge.

This year's hike started out much like the one three years ago. When we arrived at Longmire, clouds covered Mount Rainier. Even as we reached one of the viewpoints on the ridge, the mountain remained hidden. However, the sun had started to break through in places, hinting that better views might appear soon. We stayed at the viewpoint a while, and the very top of the mountain began to show. With another viewpoint ahead, we resumed the hike.

The clearing view of Mount Rainier from Rampart Ridge.

Upon reaching the second viewpoint, the familiar trail looked altogether different from what I remembered. Last time, the clouds hugged the top of the ridge, making everything feel close. This time, the expanse across Kautz Creek had opened up to reveal sections of the mountain. The trend was clear: The clouds would soon leave the view entirely untrammeled, so we sat, ate lunch, and watched the entirety of the mountain emerge. By the time the wind had blown away the last of the clouds, it was hard to believe that we had been to that very spot before. What a spectacular view the clouds had kept secret!

It was a long hike (three years) to get that view of Mount Rainier from Rampart Ridge, but I ended up with two very different ways of knowing the trail.

First Sight and Further Reflection

A brown pelican fishing a Moclips.

One of the birds I saw on a recent trip to the beach took me about a second to identify; another bird required a couple of days and input from two other birders.

As I walked toward the ocean at Moclips two weeks ago, I saw the unmistakeable profile of a brown pelican flying down the beach. Just like that, I had added to my 2019 birding list.

Later, while wading at the waterline, I added to the list again. This time though, I wouldn't know for sure that I had added to it until more than 24 hours later. That's because the second identification was difficult. Among a group of western sandpipers and least sandpipers, I saw a strange interloper. Like the other two species around it, this bird was a smallish shorebird, but it was slightly larger than the others and had distinct plumage. I took some pictures of it for later identification.

An early-arriving sanderling.

The pictures didn't help much even when I consulted my field guides or online sources like All About Birds. Finally, I sent a picture to a contact at the Black Hills Audubon Society. She guessed it was a sanderling but wasn't sure because the pattern on its breast was a bit unusual, so she sent the picture to another birder, who confirmed it was a sanderling. Besides having slightly different plumage, the bird was also an early arrival on its migration and marked my very first sighting of the species; so the identification was definitely worth the wait.

Whether I know it at first sight or need further reflection to identify it, any bird is a fun and rewarding addition to my birding list.

By the Sound of It

What looks like frustration but sounds like satisfaction? Bird-watchers know the answer is a flycatcher.

Willow flycatcher at the Billy Frank Jr.
Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge.

Many types of flycatchers look maddeningly indistinguishable from each other. Generally, they appear very plain with many of the species lacking clear, visual identifiers. Using sight alone, about all people can be sure of is that they saw some sort of flycatcher. (The birds do have a distinct profile with a large head and a common habit of perching near the tops of trees, flying out to catch insects, and returning to their perch to repeat the hunt.) But was it a willow flycatcher, a Pacific-slope flycatcher, or maybe a western wood-pewee? Even with photographic evidence, a birder can spend hours trying and failing to decide.

I speak from experience about the vexing nature of identifying flycatchers by sight. Until the last couple of years, the difficulty in doing so nearly beat me into submission. The longer the identification process takes, the more upsetting it becomes until it reaches the dejecting feeling of failure: There's a bird right in front of you, waiting to be added to your list, but you just can't make a certain determination, so the opportunity is lost. After several failures like that, you kind of don't want to bother with flycatchers anymore.

Then, there's the peace, joy, and empowerment of identifying flycatchers by sound. Learning their songs and calls is really the only way to deal with flycatchers, and once you've done that, you might as well be the smartest, most powerful person in the world because that's how it feels. I've gone from staring at photographs in exasperation to walking along and making an identification without even turning my head to see the bird that made the sound. By itself, the contrast in processes and outcomes is enough to put a smile on my face, but the knowledge of the birds' sounds carries something more powerful: the confidence of connecting to and understanding the surrounding environment. It's like knowing some great secret of life, a secret those confounding flycatchers have kept all this time.

Trying to identify flycatchers by sight is an aggravating process that makes you feel like you can't do anything, but learning to identify them by sound gives you a feeling of nirvana and omnipotence.

On the Song of the Swainson's Thrush

Swainson's thrush.

Nothing humankind has done or will ever do could rival the ancient power in the song of the Swainson's thrush.

If that sound were to disappear from Earth, I think the planet would collapse upon itself in great throes of agony.

Just the Little Things and a Very Big Mountain

Yesterday morning, I shared Mount St. Helens with some of its small residents and not much else.

I first noticed the lack of human activity when I didn't see another eastbound car on Highway 504. Considering that the highway leads to the popular Johnston Ridge Observatory, I found its emptiness quite a surprise. My amazement grew when I saw only one car in the parking lot at Coldwater Lake and then no cars at the lot for the Hummocks Trailhead. I might as well have been the only human in the entire Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument. That's such an exhilarating feeling.

A warbling vireo along the
Hummocks Trail at Mount St. Helens.

Once on the Hummocks Trail though, I was anything but alone. Birds, including a large group of warbling vireos that kept me company to the base of Johnston Ridge, sang all around, and seemingly, every boulder had a chipmunk atop it. One of these rodents was the smallest of its species that I have ever seen. Its tail could not have been longer than two inches.

Part way up Johnston Ridge, I stopped to photograph Mount St. Helens and the surrounding area. Eventually, another hiker, the only one I would see in five hours on the trail, came along. We talked about the mountain for a little while, and when he left, I sat and watched clouds move around the crater. In the meantime, a western meadowlark started singing nearby--a retiring bird with a big voice providing the soundtrack for one of the most powerful places on Earth. It was a timeless moment, and with the other hiker well up the hill, it belonged to me alone. All I had to do was enjoy it, and that's just what I did.

That other hiker most certainly also missed the toad I saw on my way back down the ridge. I only happened to catch a glimpse of it before it retreated into its hole along the trail, but I couldn't believe my luck in the discovery. The toad had been warming itself in the morning sun, looking out on the mountain at the same time I had been. Mountain watching with a toad--how cool! A bit farther down the trail, I saw a lizard scurrying on the rocks. Overall, in the absence of people, the landscape teamed with activity for me to observe.

By the time I returned to my car, at least 10 other vehicles occupied the lot, and more sat in the lot at Coldwater Lake. However, even when I recorded my very first sighting of a Vaux's swift over the lake, I don't think anyone else noticed. That little bird flitted and swooped overhead, but like so many other events around the mountain yesterday, the sighting was all mine.

To me, yesterday will always be the day I experienced Mount St. Helens with just the little things.

New Horizons on Feathered Wings

From scholarship to writing and public relations, I've done a lot of work in communication, but starting today, I have the opportunity to do something new.

A yellow warbler I photographed on a recent outing
with the Black Hills Audubon Society.

Despite my time in public relations and my experiences teaching best practices for using social media and even employing Twitter and Pinterest as teaching tools in my classes, I have never managed an organization's social media. That changed today when I started managing the Facebook page for the Black Hills Audubon Society (BHAS).

Envirofinn reflects my affinity for birds. Many of the posts focus on bird-related topics, including my successes in bird-watching during the last few years. On one occasion, I even blogged about a birding event BHAS led. The organization does a nice job of making birding fun and accessible, so when they put out a call for help with their Facebook page, I didn't hesitate to offer my time.

With my background in communication, I can help promote BHAS's events and overall presence. In return, I now have the chance to use social media strategically for a topic I love. I couldn't wait to make my first post, which went up this morning. If you'd like to keep up with the posts and what BHAS is doing, click here.

When looking for new horizons, follow the birds.

Scent of a Catwoman

The cosmetics world needs more heroes. Fortunately, we have Catwoman (well, a woman who has portrayed her on screen).

Michelle Pfeiffer, whose great acting career includes her movie-stealing performance as Catwoman in Batman Returns, grew tired of trying to find fragrances with safe chemicals. Just like Catwoman, she took matters into her own hands, and earlier this month, she launched Henry Rose, a brand of five genderless fragrances with safety certification from the Environmental Working Group (EWG). Watch the video below to hear Pfeiffer discuss the brand.



Pfeiffer has worked with the EWG before by helping promote their work to make cosmetics safer, work that includes their product-evaluation site, Skin Deep. Seeing no satisfactory options in the perfume/cologne industry, she decided to make her own, and for guidance, she turned to EWG. The result is an EWG-verified fragrance line that avoids the organization's ingredients of concern, provides full transparency about its ingredients, and adheres to EWG manufacturing standards. For more information on the certification, click here. Henry Rose also receives gold certification from Cradle 2 Cradle for health and sustainability. To learn more about the brand, click here.

With the weak oversight (especially in the United States) of the cosmetics industry and the difficulty in finding safe brands, Pfeiffer's creation of Henry Rose is a welcome development. She saw a way to help people and took action.

It's the kind of thing that heroes do.

First Pieces

My first pieces of content for The Nature Conservancy in Washington and Carbon Washington have hit the Internet.

Last month, I blogged about continuing my work in environmental communication. Now, I am excited to reveal the publication of two of my initial projects, one exploring nature-based solutions (NBS) for The Nature Conservancy and the other highlighting some important legislative work by Carbon Washington.

The most recent publication on The Nature Conservancy's City Habitats site, my article on NBS allowed me to make use of my academic background. It looks at new research into the best strategies cities can use for employing NBS. Translating the research into an article for the general public's consumption gave me the opportunity to combine my understanding of scholarship with my professional work in environmental communication. Check out the full article here.

About a week before the publication of the NBS article, Carbon Washington started making legislative headway on a bill aimed at fostering sustainable farming. With considerable momentum behind the bill, writing about it for the organization proved very exciting. I enjoyed being a part of the move toward progress. Read my write-up here.

These pieces are just the beginning of my work with these organizations. Watch for the addition of more pieces soon.

Catwoman Roars Forward

Stanley Lau’s ferocious variant cover
for Catwoman #11. The image is used
here with the artist’s permission.

Michelle Pfeiffer famously introduced her character in 1992’s Batman Returns by announcing, “I am Catwoman. Hear me roar.” In the 27 years since that movie’s release, some portrayals of the character have heard that roar. Still, a sense of unfulfilled promise has lingered over what could have happened for Catwoman after she stole the show from Max Shreck, the Penguin, and even the titular Batman. With a new run of the Catwoman comic book, Selina Kyle appears ready to make the leap toward that potential.

Catwoman proved so popular in Batman Returns that plans took shape for the film’s director, Tim Burton, to direct Pfeiffer in a spinoff. Similarly, according to writer and critic Tim Hanley, Catwoman almost received her own animated series in the 1990s. She had become one of the most coveted characters in the comic-book genre. However, neither the spinoff movie nor the animated series materialized, and although her popularity never completely faded, she struggled during the next two decades to regain the momentum Batman Returns had given her.

As soon as DC Comics announced in 2018 that Joëlle Jones would revive the Catwoman comic book and take the reins on the book’s writing and art, a buzz started building about the possibilities. It was as if the echoes of that 1992 roar had returned to voice their approval. Jones’ lauded work on comic books like Batman and especially her Lady Killer indicated the talent she could bring to Catwoman.

By redesigning Catwoman’s suit, Jones made an immediate and reverberating impact. The new design made clear its intention to honor the character’s look in Batman Returns, literally drawing on the power of that past portrayal. As much as it looked to the positives of the past though, the design moved Catwoman ahead even more. In The Many Lives of Catwoman, Hanley points out that the character has long suffered from over-sexualized portrayals. Hanley highlights the 1990s Catwoman art by Jim Balent as a classic example. Even the suit that replaced Balent’s, a change that Hanley commended, turned ridiculous. A zipper down the front allowed artists to depict the post-Balent Catwoman in downright laughable ways. Why would any superhero go into battle with an unzipped suit, particularly if that superhero is a woman who isn’t wearing a bra? Such a portrayal only serves to sexualize, and it detracts from the character’s credibility. Jones gave Catwoman’s suit an inspired design and a beautifully liquid-like coloring, and her most important contribution to the overhaul was certainly the repositioning of that zipper. Moving it from the body of the suit to the headpiece, she effectively eliminated its use in creating absurdly sexualized depictions.

For the first six releases of the comic, Jones’ writing built up Catwoman with character development and narrative construction. She explored Selina’s psyche and emphasized her connections with loved ones, filling out her personality and allowing for growth. The narrative made contributions to Catwoman’s development by giving her new supporting characters and antagonists that were all her own, not dependent on Batman’s mythology.

While Jones breathed life into both the writing and the art, Stanley Lau added to the power of Catwoman with a series of stunning variant covers. All told, the work put into the book made it compelling and began clawing out new space for Catwoman as a comic-book character. Each issue reinforced the impression that something special was developing.

Mustering all the potential and momentum, Catwoman leaped to a whole other level in February. First, Lau, who had taken a couple of issues off, previewed his art for the March, April, and May variant covers. They all looked fantastic and continued his string of quality releases. The cover for Catwoman #11, due in May, stood out though. It featured a crouching Catwoman, claws out, teeth bared, and her whip swinging behind her like the tail of a cat about to pounce. It was menacing and ferocious. A character once sold almost completely on sex appeal now commanded attention for the power she possessed. Her essence so infused the art that the rainy alley in which she crouched could hardly contain it. Catwoman was roaring once again. Then, DC Comics released Catwoman #8 on February 20. In Catwoman #7, Jones teased a burglary caper in which the Penguin hired Selina to steal something. Such a story would fit nicely and a bit predictably within Catwoman’s history. However, in Catwoman #8, Jones surprised with themes, events, and supernatural elements that made clear the story ran much deeper than a simple heist: Catwoman’s roars will confront a big, wild world befitting a superhero who has come into her own.

In a media landscape saturated by superheroes, Catwoman may never achieve the same popularity she had after Batman Returns, but the work currently taking place on the Catwoman comic has set the stage for her to fulfill the potential encapsulated in Pfeiffer’s famous line. Her roar comes through in the work of Jones, Lau, and the others contributing to the book, and it’s good to hear it calling so boldly again. She challenges the powerful and the status quo and champions the powerless, and our world needs a character like that operating at her maximum capacity.

Note: This post is obviously a departure from the usual themes of envirofinn, but it is something I really wanted to write. Besides, Catwoman is a known defender of animals, so she isn’t too out of place here.

Doubling Up to Double Down

My path in environmental communication
continues with projects for Carbon
Washington and The Nature Conservancy.

I enjoyed my experience working on the campaign for Initiative 1631 so much that when election season ended, I looked for some new environmental-advocacy opportunities. One would have been great, but I ended up doubling my pleasure with work for both The Nature Conservancy and Carbon Washington.

In November, Carbon Washington put out a call for help with their communication team. Because of their work promoting action on carbon pollution (they had led the charge on Initiative 732 in 2016), I felt like helping them would allow me to continue addressing an issue of particular importance for me. After discussing it with them, I agreed to write content for their communication.

Near the end of December, The Nature Conservancy in Washington state announced that it was looking for volunteers to write for its City Habitats blog. Considering its focus on connecting people in cities with nature, I saw the blog as a wonderful opportunity to help develop the relationship between humans and the environment. My first post should appear in the next few weeks.

To have these two opportunities come up after the I-1631 campaign provided a good outlet for the environmental communication I still have in me. As my work with them continues, I'll post updates on this blog, so stay tuned for more information.

Two chances to work on environmental communication is definitely twice as nice.

Soaring to New Heights

My 139th and final species for 2018,
the golden-crowned sparrow.

From an Anna's hummingbird on January 1 to a golden-crowned sparrow on December 27, 2018 took flight and became a record-shattering year of bird-watching for me.

Starting with the Anna's hummingbird bright and early on the first day, the year wasted no time earning its wings. By the end of the first day, I had 18 species sighted, and before February began, I had 37.

I flew past my previous best of 120, set in 2017, on August 7 and kept going. A final trip to the Billy Frank Jr. Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge on December 27 gave me 12 new species to end the year, putting me at a total of 139. The last of these birds, the golden-crowned sparrow, presented itself at the end of the day just before I reached the refuge parking lot. It seemed like a good punctuation mark for a great year.

The year featured 14 species I had never previously seen. These included the lesser scaup, the blue-winged teal, the field sparrow, the Lincoln's sparrow, the white-throated sparrow, the lark sparrow, the Harris's sparrow, the wood thrush, the hooded merganser, the ring-necked duck, the northern shoveler, the northern pintail, and the greater yellowlegs. One particularly spectacular life-list addition was the sandhill crane, which I blogged about seeing here.

Besides the new personal best and the life-list additions, I had another major highlight. During 11 days (May 4-14), I saw 43 species. That's almost four species per day and nearly one-third of my total for the whole year. It was such an exciting time. I just kept racking up the identifications, and when the run was over, I knew it would be a special year. At that point, I already had 107 species on my list, that new record close at hand.

Last year, my bird-watching reached new heights, and it's up, up, and away for 2019.