Month: May 2009

Arrowleaf Balsamroot

/ Tom Kloster
Balsamroot blankets the Dalles Mountain nature preserve in spring; Mount Hood rises from the clouds on the horizon, above the Columbia River and the town of The Dalles

Balsamroot blankets the Dalles Mountain nature preserve in spring; Mount Hood rises from the clouds on the horizon, above the Columbia River and the town of The Dalles

In late spring across the arid mountain west, sunny slopes and open Ponderosa forests explode with bright yellow drifts off Arrowleaf balsamroot (Balsamorhiza sagittata), the native sunflower of the western states. These handsome plants are especially abundant along the dry east slope of the Cascades, where they are also known as Oregon sunflower.

The name “Arrowleaf” describes the large, felted leaves of this plant — though in size they are closer to a spade than an arrowhead, often as much as a foot in length. “Balsamroot” refers to the fist-sized, branched taproot that anchors these plants in their typically windswept, harsh environment. The roots have a strong, pine-scented (or “balsam”) sap. These oversized roots not only draw moisture from deep in the arid soils in which Arrowleaf balsamroot grow, but also allow the plants to easily survive fires.

A typical balsamroot in spring, nearing peak bloom

A typical balsamroot in spring, nearing peak bloom

The flowers are actually complex collection of individual blossoms that give the illusion of a single, large flower head. The outer ring of “petals” emerge from dozens of individual florets, each producing one enormous petal that combine to form the ring of yellow petals. A close look at the developing flower head (below) shows these emerging super-petals as a fringe of green tips.

Honeybee on a balsamroot

Honeybee on a balsamroot

Native Americans used almost all parts of these plants for food. Tender shoots and leaves were eaten raw or steamed, and immature flower heads were peeled and eaten. The sunflower-like seeds were eaten dry, or roasted. The roots, which are bitter when raw, were cooked and ground into a meal that was used to make cakes, and dried and powdered to make tea.

The plant was also used for medicinal purposes, with green leaves used to treat burns and the boiled roots used to create a medicinal salve for small wounds. A tea made from the roots was used to treat respiratory ailments. Balsamroot is still used today in organic foods and herbal medicines.

Wildlife also depend on Arrowleaf balsamroot. The plants are tolerant of browsing by deer and elk, and the seeds are important forage for small mammals, such as the Columbia ground squirrel. Wild horses graze on the plants in spring, and are especially fond of the flowers. The plants are also grazed by domestic stock, though they are sensitive overgrazing.

Miles of balsamroot create a brief dusting of bright green and yellow on the desert slopes of the Eastern Gorge each spring

Miles of balsamroot create a brief dusting of bright green and yellow on the desert slopes of the Eastern Gorge each spring

In the right conditions, Arrowleaf balsamroot grow to fill whole mountainsides with their spectacular blooms. As the blooming season of Arrowleaf balsamroot peaks in late April or early May, the Columbia River Gorge provides one of the finer displays anywhere. Blue lupine is a frequent companion plant, providing a painting-perfect complement to the displays.

You can visit some of these spectacular displays by exploring Gorge hiking trails at Dog Mountain, Catherine Creek, Rowena Crest and Dalles Mountain Ranch. Check out the Portland Hikers Field Guide for more information on these destinations.

Scorpions!

/ Tom Kloster / 4 Comments
At first glance, just a wayward crayfish.. but wait! Is that (gulp!) a scorpion's tail..?

At first glance, just a wayward crayfish.. but wait! Is that (gulp!) a scorpion's tail..?

A couple of years ago, I stopped to do some trail tending on the way down from Tamanawas Falls, on the Cold Spring Creek trail. It was dusk, and I was moving some rocks around to improve the tread in a gravelly area, on a slope just above the rushing creek. I spotted what looked like an oval coin, where I had just turned over a rock. Closer inspection revealed a pair of pincers and a tail, perfectly coiled up and tucked in around an armored body.

I thought it might be a crayfish that had somehow made its way up the slope to the trail. But suddenly, the creature exploded into motion, bolting to the top of a nearby rock at a speed that no crayfish could reach out of water. At that point, the tail was extended, and I realized I was looking at a scorpion!

It was nearly dark, so I quickly set up my tripod, as the scorpion sat motionless for me — apparently agreeable to an unscheduled portrait. The first view (above) was his semi-alert position that he held until I moved the camera closer for a better shot. At that point, he went into what can only be described as a “defensive” posture (below), and I must say that this sent some of my primal neurons into overdrive!

What scorpions do when they've decided their photo-op is over..!

What scorpions do when they've decided their photo-op is over..!

I snapped a couple more shots of this pose before he abruptly raced up the slope — right past my foot, alarmingly — and into the brush. It was exhilarating because I don’t often stumble upon some new creature that I haven’t seen before, and especially one this exotic and seemingly out-of-place. What was a scorpion doing in a lush, mountain canyon along a rushing stream? Aren’t they desert dwellers?

After the trip, I researched scorpions a bit, and learned that they do, indeed, inhabit the Cascades as far north as British Columbia. Though I have yet to positively identify this one, it appears to be Paruroctonus boreus, the Northern Scorpion, or possibly one of the Vaejovis scorpion species native to Oregon. Its body was about 2″ in length, claws roughly an inch long, and the tail around 2″ long.

Oregon State University zoologist Philip Brownell provides helpful background in this article on just how scorpions could survive in a place like Cold Spring canyon, where deep snow covers the ground for months every winter. The key is their unique metabolic ability go into stasis in underground burrows, using little oxygen and requiring little food until conditions on the surface improve. But unlike other hibernating creatures, scorpions can quickly switch from stasis to active hunting in a matter of minutes.

Scorpion Mountain, in the Bull of the Woods country south of Mount Hood, might just have been inspired by the real thing, after all..!

Scorpion Mountain, in the Bull of the Woods country south of Mount Hood, might just have been inspired by the real thing, after all..!

Scorpions are live-bearing, with the female carrying her brood on her back until their first molt, upon which they head off on their own. If you get the creepy-crawlies from the sight of scorpions, I don’t suggest Googling images of a female ferrying her batch of young one around! They’re also nocturnal, so you’re unlikely to ever see one in the Cascades.

And what of the dreaded venom? Well, the Northern Scorpion’s venom is listed as a potentially dangerous neurotoxin for humans by some sources, with swelling and pain at the site of the sting, and possibly other more serious reactions. So it’s pretty clear that these creatures are to be seen, but not handled.

According to the National Geographic article link, above, the toxicity of the venom is inversely proportional to the size of the pincers, since large-clawed scorpions tend to hunt their insect prey with their claws, where small-clawed species are more likely to depend on their venom to immobilize their prey.

The spot where I found my specimen was classic habitat for Northern scorpion, according to several web sources. This species apparently lives on dry, loose riverbank slopes in much of its range. So that means that the entire Cold Spring Creek canyon is prime habitat, not to mention most every other canyon in this part of the Cascades.

So, keep that in mind, next time you’re turning over stones in the woods!

Hood River Mountain Trophy Homes

/ Tom Kloster / 4 Comments
These fragile slopes on Hood River Mountain -- covered in their spring blanket of yellow balsamroot -- were recently scarred with a driveway to yet another ill-conceived trophy home.

These fragile slopes on Hood River Mountain -- covered in their spring blanket of yellow balsamroot -- were recently scarred with a driveway to yet another ill-conceived trophy home.

One of the great tragedies of the Columbia River National Scenic Area Act (signed into law on November 17, 1986) was the crude delineation of what should be protected and what should not. The official boundary was eventually determined by pulling in terrain that could be viewed from the river, and from a scenic resources perspective, this was a fair starting point.

But the flaw in this thinking is that nature rarely follows clear boundaries, and some of the most precious lands in the Gorge were excluded by virtue of being hidden from view. It’s times to correct that oversight. It was also automobile-centric, since gorge visitors on foot, bicycle or horseback are likely to visit the high points and overlooks that have a broader viewshed.

This map shows how the scenic area boundary excluded the unique, open slopes of Hood River Mountain shown in the previous photo.

This map shows how the scenic area boundary excluded the unique, open slopes of Hood River Mountain shown in the previous photo.

One such area is Hood River Mountain. Hikers flock to the area, though few realize that they’re hiking on private land (despite a sign stating so). Still fewer know that the land they are hiking on has no protection from the Columbia River National Scenic Area, though the Columbia River can be seen below. Without Oregon’s strict statewide planning, this area would be maze of roads and trophy homes by now. Instead, the mountain survives largely intact, in big parcels owned by a Washington timber company.

But not all of Hood River Mountain was spared. The northern extent had already been divided into smaller parcels by the time Oregon’s planning laws were enacted in the 1970s, and today these parcels are in high demand for trophy homes. The dwelling pictured at the top of this article was recently constructed on one such parcel, scarring the mountain forever with a quarter-mile driveway. This gouge across the delicate sloped meadows of arrowleaf balsamroot threatens to destabilize sensitive soils, placing an important ecosystem at risk.

The sprawling meadows on Hood River Mountain are owned by a (so far) benevolent timber company, but are on the wrong side of the scenic area boundary for the purpose of public protection.

The sprawling meadows on Hood River Mountain are owned by a (so far) benevolent timber company, but are on the wrong side of the scenic area boundary for the purpose of public protection.

This development on the northern tier of Hood River Mountain is a jarring reminder that in the short term, the scenic area boundary must be revisited to identify rare or endangered ecosystems, or other important resources that abut the line. Adjusting the boundary in these areas would open the door to federal protections and public acquisition of these sites over time.

In the long-term, the more difficult question of acquiring and either removing, or re-purposing some of the more egregious trophy homes must be addressed. The Forest Service has rarely crossed this line, largely due to lack of adequate funding for acquisition to begin with. Someday, this will be an important part of the restoration vision of the Mount Hood National Park Campaign. But for now, simply stopping the bleeding is a more pragmatic goal. The Forest Service must receive more funding to accelerate private acquisitions.

Trophy home gate on Hood River Mountain, where high anxiety accompanies country living for these dream-home dwellers.

Trophy home gate on Hood River Mountain, where high anxiety accompanies country living for these dream-home dwellers.

The State of Oregon and local governments can also help on this front. The state and local jurisdictions could offer a tax incentive for trophy-home owners in high-profile locations to eventually deed these homes to the public for demolition, removal or reuse as a public facility.

In the meantime, the counties that issue permits for rural trophy homes can raise the bar for what they are willing to accept in engineering as geotechnical justifications for these projects. The Forest Service could assist the counties in providing an enhanced permit process, as a strategy for preventing the least sustainable eyesores from slipping through.

Non-profit land advocates are already important partners in addressing both the short and long-term problem. Today, at least three of these organizations have begun to acquire private lands in the Gorge, and are advocating for expanding the scenic area boundaries to encompass more endangered lands. Since the non-profits are not bound by official designations, and could begin working immediately with landowners to acquire land at overlooked places like Hood River Mountain, they offer the potential to work far in advance of the federal bureaucracy.

Each of us can help by supporting the non-profits who do this work. Most prominent are the Trust for Public Lands, Friends of the Columbia Gorge and the Nature Conservancy. You can find contact information for all three in this directory of organizations. Consider joining or simply contributing to one of these groups, and helping protect some of our most unique landscapes so that they may someday be intact or rehabilitated — as part of the Mount Hood National Park vision.