Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
One of the things I love about the Pacific Northwest is the dense moss that grows in some of our wetter locations, in this case a weeping wall in the Columbia River Gorge. The water was dripping down from above but because it was coming out through the moss, it appeared as though the earth itself was leaking.
This is one of my favorite bittern pictures as it shows the way I often wind down a day at Ridgefield, watching bitterns near the end of the auto tour before I have to leave to beat the closing of the automated gate, the setting sun leaving the bittern to hunt in shadow. These last moments always make me wonder — what do bitterns do in the dark?
With melting snow and approaching rain, I shoveled out a channel along the side of our street in Portland so all of that water would have some place to go. I know from past experience with fallen leaves that if the area beside our driveway isn’t completely clear we end up with a little lake where the driveway meets the road. The Hoh River in Olympic National Park is also fed by melting snow, but this snow is from glaciers high in the Olympic range that grind rocks into silt that color the runoff a milky blue. I suspect this little stream running through the Hall of Mosses Trail is spring fed, as unlike the Hoh its clear waters showed the brilliant green plants that were swaying in the gentle current.
Boolie 