Nurse Log

Or stump actually. New trees often find the rotting corpses of dead trees to be a rich source of nutrients. Forest litter gathers in the niches and crevices of rotting wood, constantly adding more to the stew of decay that nourishes trees.

In this case, young trees are growing out of the stumps of trees harvested 70 years ago, so they are remnant stumps, not logs. The wet temperate rain forest along the north Oregon coast helps the stumps to break down at an accelerated rate. In this case, western hemlock seedlings gained purchase and grew to adult trees suckling on the dead stumps.

The result is rather sculptural, and I dragged some heavy duty studio lights into the forest so I could highlight some of the more interesting visual characteristics of the nurse logs.



Here a western hemlock (Tsuga heterophylla) is balancing on the rotting stump of a douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii)



Below - A sitka spruce (Picea sitchensis) stump is surrounded by adult western hemlock trees, The roots still piercing the rotten wood of the stump.



Decaying trees are mini ecosystems unto themselves, providing shelter and food for fungi, lichen, small mammals, birds and untold populations of invertebrates. Below, a biologist holds the large larva of a giant root borer (Prionus californicus), which burrows through soft wood of various trees.



The stumps were photographed at property managed by the North Coast Land Conservancy not far from the Necanicum River on the northern Oregon Coast.

Foggy Coast, Haystack Rock

Passing through the Costal Mountains from Portland on the way to the beach on a recent morning, heavy fog had settled into the valleys.


misty mountains, oregon coast range

Mist is a common occurrence in the coastal mountains, but usually as you get closer to the beach the wind coming in from the Pacific clears out the fog. But on this trip, I noticed the the rare absence of any breeze along the coast.


haystack rock, cannon beach, oregon.

Haystack Rock, an old remnant basalt monolith that emerges from the surf near Cannon Beach, has been photographed about one hundred quadzillion times over the past century. However, it was such a rare atmosphere that it was a pleasure to hike out and capture a few images as the sun set.


haystack rock marine garden, oregon.

Haystack Rock is designated a Marine Garden by the Oregon Division Of Fish and Wildlife above the high-tide line, and it is also part of the Oregon Island National Wildlife Refuge.


haystack rock, oregon island national wildlife refuge.

Bat Skeleton

I photographed this bat skeleton some time ago, but the image sat in my cataloging folder until I could get the post processing done.

Bats are such delicate creatures, and yet so beautifully put together. Their evolution is slowly being revealed by the fossil record and genetics.



I was hoping to illustrate the delicate nature of the skeleton, and yet show the dynamic flexibility of a flying mammal. I'm not so sure I was successful, and the tiny wing bones made the whole process very challenging. It will have to do for now.



This bat is a different species than the skeleton, but has a similar build. No matter what I tried, I could not come close to the elegance of a live flying bat that is shown here.

Mysterious Tracks In Snow

First I thought these were a small bird, but I quickly realized it was something different. I have seen a lot of different tracks in my career, and can usually surmise the source. This time, I am stumped.



Mole? I don't think so. The scale seems wrong and this creature was very active above the surface.



What makes the radiating pattern?



These were all over the place, in an open field right next to a bit of forest. It this is a small mammal (as I suspect), then it would be a prime target for birds of prey in this environment.



I need to call in the experts.

A Bull Elk Emerges From The Shadows

On a miserable, rainy night along the coast one of my remote cameras photographed a spike bull roosevelt elk (Cervus canadensis roosevelti) walking along a muddy elk trail.



One of the reasons I use remote cameras is because they allow me to take photographs where no sane photographer could possibly pull it off. I had the cameras in place for six days before these photographs were taken. The nights were frigid and dark, and yet the cameras waited patiently.



Water on the lens makes this elk appear as if it is emerging from the ghostly shadows of a nocturnal forest (above).

I pulled the cameras after they were in place for 10 days, primarily because of a massive series of storms moving in from the Pacific. The weather had already been bad, and I had experienced several technical problems, and near destruction caused by water in the past.

My remote camera system has new waterproof connectors, and better weather housing, but I wasn't quite ready to leave it in the flood plain of a small creek.

In one image, the elk passed extremely close to a camera placed very low.



Just inches from the muddy ground, the camera lens received a coating of muck.

Cold Snap

The entire continent has been put into a deep freeze, and Oregon has not been spared. I traversed the 80 miles from Portland to the coast recently, and found highway 26 to be covered in ice for most of the route. There were plenty of SUV's in the ditch as I poked along at 35mph.

I made a point of keeping my schedule open enough to allow time to shoot in the snow.



The Coast Range pass is only 1600 feet, and in a typical winter it will get a dusting of snow for a week or two.



Seeing the snow pile up is a visual treat.







It's still snowing too....

Terry Toedtemeier is gone

It has been a couple years since I last spoke with Terry Toedtemeier, the curator of photography at the Portland Art Museum. I first met him when he was my instructor at The Pacific Northwest College of Art, while I was working on my B.F.A. in photography. Terry became much more than just a teacher in the classroom, he became a mentor as I formed the ideas that would shape my direction in photography. He was a friend who always had sharp ideas about what made images interesting. Through his eyes, I learned to see the landscape with the scale of time, and the forces of wind and water that shaped it. He taught me about the craft of printmaking, and the history of photography.

These are deeply embedded in my mind, and Terry was instrumental in my appreciation and exploration of photography.

One of my favorite, and one of the best photography books in my library is "Second View – The Rephotographic Survey Project". Terry introduced this book to me once while we were shooting in the Gorge together.

In addition to a curator, a teacher and mentor – Terry was also an involved, and smart photographer who produced remarkable landscape images that were informed by his knowledge of the land. His work is in the collection of major museums across the continent, and he was celebrated in the photographic community for his contributions to the craft.

He died in Hood River just two days ago, after giving a lecture about a new book he edited about Oregon Photography: "Wild Beauty". He was a great guy, and I am saddened by his departure.




Terry Toedtemeier inspects a gallery of pictographs and petroglyphs in the Columbia River Gorge.

Red Saddlebags Dragonfly (Tramea onusta)

These dragonflies are deceptive in flight. When I first spied one at the Brackenridge Field Lab, I didn't recognize it as a dragonfly until I got a second look. The curious red markings on the wings make it look like a large fly with red wings until the transparent part of the wings are perceived – then suddenly a dragonfly appears.



This quality is not immediately apparent in this image, but place one against a bright blue Texas sky and your eyes can be fooled. This photo took all day to get.

Jump! Leopard frog (Rana pipiens)

Continuing with the frog theme: Another technically challenging image that was accomplished with
the help of my friend Dr John Abbott at the University of Texas. I was in Texas to photograph bats (more on that later) but how can you pass up a cute frog?