American Robin eating mountain ash berries—Photo: Lawrence Hollar/Audubon Photography Awards
November President’s Notes: Have ACOW, a Berry, and a Bull
Careful readers may recall my apparent preoccupation with cows, cows, cows, fostered by 40-plus years working for the Bureau of Land Management (now reverting to its Bureau of Livestock and Mining roots) and the Forest Service. The irony of the Audubon Council of Washington’s acronym—ACOW—is not lost on me. You can run but you can’t hide! Therefore, it was with a little trepidation that I attended my first ACOW meeting in October. The biennial gathering of chapter leaders (including Ken Wiersema and Patty Giffin from OPAS) was held on the Bellingham waterfront, where surreptitious birdwatching was tolerated during presentations and discussions.
As if to make me feel right-to-home, the opening Conservation Impact discussion started with an overview of the Columbia Plateau Conservation Strategy with a focus on working with ranchers to implement sustainable grazing practices that benefit birds. (Ken and I had difficulty during the subsequent rancher/conservationist role-playing exercise designed to get us thinking outside the corral when communicating.) We also learned about the Salish Sea State of the Birds project that will provide conservationists and decision makers with science-based information to help reduce bird declines in the Pacific Flyway; efforts to increase renewable energy while protecting birds, habitats, and communities; and the Lights Out, Washington! initiative our own Patty Giffin and chapter helped develop last year.
We learned about a variety of programs National Audubon is working on including Audubon on Campus, a program to help develop the next generation of conservationists. None of the 108 campus chapters are in Washington, which surprised most of us. Habitat conservation and influencing policy are enduring programs. To help facilitate the latter, Audubon is developing training materials to help members become more effective advocates. Finally, we looked at ways to strengthen our chapter leadership (I look forward to new muscles) and plan for the future. It was wonderful to meet like-minded folks from around the state who are rolling up their sleeves to tackle the challenges we’re all facing. Their passion, dedication, and hard work are inspiring.
And now to the home front. Our mountain ash was particularly productive this year. Seeing the big bunches of brilliant red berries catching the morning sun was a wonderful way to start the day. That was until a blush (round, breast, carol, riot, worm—or perhaps berry) of robins found them in late September. Normally, the berries remain untouched until late January or February when robins and waxwings enjoy the potentially fermented fruit. Clearly students of the “Tragedy of the Commons,” this year’s gluttons started way early and never looked back (or forward). Not bound by our concept of low-hanging fruit, they started at the top and systematically munched their way down the tree over the next three weeks. Waxwings were not invited to the party.
The tree is bare, the savings account empty. Is it an indication of food shortages brought on by drought conditions or El Niño, tea-totaling birds avoiding fermented offerings, or just normal annual variation in feeding strategy? Snowberries remain although they seem less appealing.
Further afield, I recently read the obituary of Bruiser, the bull elk that took up residence on Whidbey Island around 2012. I didn’t know Bruiser, but I spent 1983 with his doppelgänger while chasing translocated Roosevelt elk along the northern California coast. But I spent 1983 with his doppelgänger while chasing translocated Roosevelt elk along the northern California coast. I was studying how transplanted elk lived in a new environment. For one young bull (being a “scientist” at the time I didn’t name the animals, just referred to them by their radio-collar frequency if they had one), it wasn’t much different than Bruiser: find trouble and get into it. Antlers are neat, imposing, and cows dig them. But wrapping them in garbage bags or barbed wire could only add to their magical powers in his mind. No other bull around to spar with and impress the ladies? Try your reflection in a sliding glass door. I’m not sure whether any of that enhanced his breeding success in subsequent years, but for that year it resulted in two tranquilizer darts, getting his antlers sawn off, and spending the rut in solitary confinement. Not the fittest survival strategy, but apparently it's a thing with some bulls.
Roosevelt Elk near Shelter Cove, California—Photo: Matt McCoy
If you’ve made it this far, you may be wondering how this all ties altogether. I briefly toyed with the idea of “A cow, a berry, and a bull walk into a bar” joke, but my creativity wasn’t up to the task, and neither was ChatGPT’s. The birds, elk, and other wild things we see enhance our lives but can't be taken for granted. Getting involved in Audubon is one important way to ensure their existence and our continued enjoyment.