Promise deferred

I was hoping for bears. They had promised me bears. Well, sort of; my friends were going to show me where they had seen several black bears in the Quinsam River a couple of  days before.

The Quinsam River is a short stream that flows into the Campbell River, 20 km. long, as the crow flies, over 40 as it winds down from two small lakes. Good fishing; there are salmon and trout; where we looked down into the water, the salmon jostled each other in the shallow water, big fish, mostly heading upriver to spawn. And where there are spawning salmon, there are bears, fattening up for the winter sleep.

We saw no bears.

But there were pretty green and yellow banana slugs.

Banana slug, Ariolimax columbianus, and moss on a halfway fallen tree.

And even a butterfly.

Cabbage white butterfly, Pieris rapae, female. (The females have 2 black spots on the forewings.)

It was a beautiful fall day, raining off and on, but the sun shone even through the rain, and the wet forest glistened.

Bottom to top: salal, huckleberry, big-leaf maple, evergreens.

And there were mushrooms everywhere.

Pholiota sp. on a well-aged alder log.

Coral mushroom. 

An unidentified small mushroom, draped in spider web, growing on a snag.

But no bears. I'll just have to go back another day.

I still have another dozen or so photos of mushrooms from that walk to process. Coming up next.

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Quería ver osos. Me habían prometido osos. Bueno, más o menos; mis amigos se ofrecieron a llevarme a donde habían visto los osos en el rio Quinsam hacía dos dias.

El rio Quinsam es un rio corto, tributario del rio Campbell. Corre por 20 kilómetros si se mide en linea recta, unos 40 kilómetros en verdad, bajando serpenteante desde un par de lagos del mismo nombre. La pesca es buena; hay salmones y truchas; donde nos detenimos para mirar el agua, gran número do salmones se retorcían, haciendo que el agua pareciera estar hirviendo. Eran peces grandes, apurándose para llegar a su zona de desove. Y donde hay peces en desove (época de reproducción), hay osos acumulando reservas para los meses de hibernación.

No vimos ningún oso.

Pero hubo babosas "plátano", muy bonitas, vestidas en amarillo y verde:

1. Babosa Ariolimax columbianus en un tronco medio caído.
2. Y una mariposa Pieris rapae. Las hembras tienen las dos manchas negras en cada ala anterior.
3. Era un dia lindo de otoño; llovía en momentos, pero el sol seguía penetrando las nubes aun mientras llovía, y el agua en las hojas del bosque centelleaban.
4. Y por dondequiera había hongos. Estos son del género Pholiota.
5. Hongo coral.
6. Hongo sin identificación creciendo en un tronco muerto.

Pero no vimos osos. Total: tendré que regresar otro dia.

Me quedan sin procesar otra docena de fotos de hongos de ese dia. Ya vendrán.

It's a jungle in there

"Rugged". That word comes up repeatedly in descriptions of Vancouver Island's terrain. And with reason.

Bear Creek wetland creek, off Oyster River. The circles in the water are from resident salmon.

Processing photos from Tuesday's trip to the salmon hatchery, I was impressed again by how impenetrable our bush is. The photo above is in an area that has been logged off repeatedly, cleared, cleared again; "managed". It is barely a dozen steps from the holding tanks for salmon fry (I was standing on the plank bridge beside the first tank), a stone's throw (thrown by me, with my old, gimpy shoulder) from the fence and the Oyster River Enhancement Society main office.

And yet: try walking through that! Scrambling, rather, sometimes using both hands as well as feet. Carefully, though; there's Devil's Club in those bushes, amply deserving of its name, and cunningly disguised as harmless thimbleberry bushes. And sudden pit traps, hidden under coats of moss or dead leaves. And trailing blackberry vines to grab your ankles and tip you over. And fallen trees barricading any clear spaces, clear only because the tree knocked over the Devil's Club on the way down.

The creek looks walkable, but watch out for waist-deep silt pools, looking as if they're only inches deep. And slippery, slidy slime. And more fallen branches, only half-anchored in the mud, ready to roll underfoot or to jump up and swat you. You'll need a good, sturdy stick; two feet aren't enough.

A few steps up the slope: cleared space beside the gate. Maple, cedar, evergreen fern, young alders, and blackberries. There are always blackberries. Give it a couple of years, and you'll need a machete to get to the sign.

It's the rain that does it. The rain, and the mild seasons, never too hot, never too cold. The rain and the mildness and the "intricate topography" (another synonym for "ruggedness"). And the isolation: a ten-minute drive from the populated coast takes us into bush untouched by anyone but the occasional loggers and fishermen. Who mostly stay on the trails, because it's too hard to cross that bush without land-clearing machinery.

It's bear country. The bears had been at the tanks the night before we arrived, leaving the leftovers from their breakfast for the ravens and the crawdads. They walk through this bush as if it were a highway. On all four feet, of course. And wearing thick, protective, furry armour against the Devil's Club.

Cutting edge

Summer on Vancouver Island is the time for large-scale wood carving or driftwood sculptures. We discovered a whole new installation in "downtown" Gold River (population 1,212). Wolves, bears, crabs, eagles, fish; our native totemic species. With one exception:

Bears (with teddy bear mascots) and a pair of chimps (or sasquatches). Very modern, up-to-date chimps. (Probably sasquatches.)

Already addicted to his phone. It's a Sassung™.

Selfie

And another modern bear:

Must have his coffee!

April flowers

Along the Myrt Thompson trail.

Red flowering currant. They are growing wild in the bush along the river's edge, but this and a dozen or so more have been planted as part of the restoration project.

Sign near the beginning of the trail

Text of the sign:

Myrt Thompson Restoration
This trail winds along the banks of the river and through the heart of the estuary. After a century of industrial use by the forest industry, the Myrt Thompson trail is now being restored to provide habitat for a wonderful array of wildlife, including bald eagles, cedar waxwings, and black bears. Invasive species such as Scotch broom and Himalayan blackberry have been cleared by volunteers and replanted with native species. These plants will provide a diverse habitat for avian wildlife. Riverside vegetation also helps to protect the riverbank from erosion and provides hiding places for juvenile salmon.

The eagles were much in evidence this week. A couple of years ago, I saw many piles of bear scat. It's too early this year for them; they'll show up when the berries ripen.

More red-flowering currant. Looks like there will be a good crop of berries. For now, they'll attract hummingbirds.

Salmonberry flower. More bear bait coming up.

A lineup of salmonberry buds.

I think this is Pacific crabapple, Malus fusca.