I Like the Way They Think

For several years, I have been thinking about the possibilities for preserving an area that has special meaning for me, and as it turns out, the Washington State Department of Fish and Wildlife had similar thoughts.

One of my first introductions to outdoor life was fishing in Pacific County in Washington state. Aside from timber companies and people out fishing and hunting, the area had little human activity. It was a special place to get away and fish with my dad.

Over the years, my connection to the area has grown. I have thought it would make a good place for some organization to purchase and preserve for wildlife and recreation. 

To my surprise, when the Department of Fish and Wildlife announced its new round of proposed property acquisitions for 2024, a portion of the area where I fish was included in the list. Of course, the announcement would have made me happy even if I hadn't previously thought about ways of conserving the area, but the fact that they had found a place that I felt deserved protection made the news especially sweet. I submitted my comments with enthusiastic support for the acquisition.

We'll have to wait and see if the Department of Fish and Wildlife goes through with the proposal, but I like the way they think, so I have high hopes.

Unfamiliar Thoughts in Familiar Waters

I've seen that creek many times, but I'd never before looked at it the way I did last month.

I have a special creek where I go to fish and deeply connect with nature. I've been going there since I was three or four years old, so it's an old friend. It's also a big part of who I am and how I see the environment.

For all the amazing things they give us, old friends also bring challenges. The early experiences with them heavily influence how we see them later, sometimes preventing us from picking up on new things about them. Also, they color our interpretation of the people, places, and things we encounter later in life, setting limitations on our understanding of the world.

Both of the challenges related to old friends apply to my creek. The memories I have of it come to the forefront of my mind whenever I am there. Consequently, each new experience of it mixes with the old ones. I am also certain that my understanding of streams and the environment in general builds off my early experiences at the creek. For example, when I was younger, I thought about the environment as a set of individual pieces. "There's a creek," I would say. "There's a mountain." I didn't really think of them as continuations of a larger whole. I thought about my creek as a separate entity occupying a specific place of its own, and the same thinking continued to influence my understanding of environmental elements for years.

This July, I experienced my creek in a new way. I didn't see it as a creek but rather the product of an interaction of environmental features extending to the atmosphere. I was no longer walking in just a creek bed. Instead, it had become part of a larger, living system of environmental connections. The canyon through which it runs funnels water to it from miles around. That water comes to the creek on its continuous cycle around the world and through the atmosphere, connecting the creek to the oceans, the land, and the clouds.

I think that truly seeing my creek's place in the larger complexities of the environment is literally a watershed moment: For the first time, I really understand what a watershed is, and I now have a new way of looking at my old friend and the rest of the world.

Natural Personality

Prepare to meet your match.

A new survey from the National Wildlife Federation offers a fun opportunity to anyone who's ever pretended to be an animal. NWF community manager Dani Tinker recently created a series of questions that help people figure out what kind of animal they'd be.

The survey serves as more than a basic personality test. It highlights the ways we relate to our environment and shows the links between those relationships and our actions. Still, it's hard not to get excited about finding your animal alter ego. To take the survey, click here.

By the way, in case you're wondering, my wildlife personality is Sporty Steelhead. Since I've done quite a bit of fishing, and the steelhead is the state fish of Washington, my home state, I feel that's a pretty good match.

Now, go find the animal inside you.

Don't See That Every Day

Rabbits don't usually run toward moving vehicles, but one ran toward mine today.

I was returning on a dirt road from a fishing trip, and a large, brown rabbit jumped from the bushes on the left and sprinted at the truck. This seemed quite odd, and I figured that something must be chasing it, but I couldn't see anything.

The rabbit continued past the truck, hardly paying any attention to it, and I began looking for a pursuer (I was expecting a coyote). Next, I saw what initially looked like a chipmunk in the area from which the rabbit had emerged. Upon closer inspection, I saw that it was a weasel. It was jumping back and forth from the bushes to the road.

Although I was surprised that a weasel would attack a rabbit more than twice its size, I was pretty sure it was what had flushed this rabbit. Before driving by, I noted the weasel's reddish-brown fur and black-tipped tail.

The black tail tip helped me identify later as a long-tailed weasel, a species that I learned often attacks animals larger than itself.

I see rabbits quite often, but weasel sightings are rare for me, and I had no idea they kill adult rabbits. Seeing this part of the life cycle play out was an opportunity that I may never have again, but I will certainly not forget it.

A Day for Going Nuts

Tomorrow is Squirrel Appreciation Day, so it's about time to get a little nutty.

The National Wildlife Federation has some tips for how to celebrate the big day, and I've decided to get a head start on the suggestion about sharing my squirrel stories.

Of course, I blogged about the St. Louis Cardinals' Rally Squirrel in the fall, but my connection with squirrels goes way beyond that.

I remember fishing amongst big spruce trees when I was a kid and seeing the remnants of Douglas squirrel cone feasts carpeting the ground around the trees. The endearing thing about Douglas squirrels is their crankiness. They can't stand to be intruded upon, and they aren't shy about letting you know it. Also, the Pacific Northwest is one of their main areas, so they have added importance for me.

Eastern gray squirrels are a source of mixed emotions for me. On one hand, they are not native to the Northwest, so it's troubling to see them take over areas here. On the other hand, I do like watching them scurry around and roll up their tails behind them as they eat.

I hope you get a chance to enjoy Squirrel Appreciation Day. I think I'll wear my Rally Squirrel T-shirt.

Flying High

I have been fishing since I was three or four years old, but I've never seriously taken up fly-fishing.

However, this summer, I made a conscious decision to develop my fly-fishing skills. I wanted to do so because using this method of fishing can have a smaller impact on fish. Being a catch-and-release fisherman, I want the fish to swim away without any major damage.

In one way, the experiment lowered my impact right off the bat: I simply didn't catch as many fish this year. I'm more than okay with that though because I really like the getting-into-nature part of fishing best. In addition, the process of working on my casting gave the experience an extra bit of interest. Whenever I got off a good cast or accomplished something new, I felt great satisfaction (I was growing as an outdoorsperson).

Two days ago, I got the best reward. After hooking and failing to bring in a few fish and failing to hook numerous others, I finally brought in what I am calling my first fly-rod catch (I've caught some in the past, but I didn't really have to cast much in those cases--more like just throw the fly out there). The most satisfying part of the catch was the release: The barbless hook came right out, leaving a small hole in the front of the mouth, and the fish swam away instantly. All in all, it was a great result for my first summer of fly-fishing.

I'm glad I made the switch and can enjoy one of my favorite things while doing less damage to the environment than before. I still have some things to learn and practice, but if this summer is any indication, that will be part of the fun.