Open prairie grasslands, hummocky wet meadows, meandering rivers, and magnificent branching oak woodlands—before European settlement, Oregon’s Willamette Valley was a very different place. A place blackened by fire and awash in waves of wildflowers. A sea of purple camas covered the hillsides, along with irises, cat’s ear lily, golden paintbrush, and more. Grand Oregon white oaks, with their spreading branches, grew singly or in woodland patches, completing the look.
Now, very little of these habitats remain in the Willamette Valley—lost to human development. It is a place dug up by plows and awash in pavement. A sea of houses covers the hillsides with agricultural fields everywhere in-between.
In recent years, as scarcity has increased, oak habitats in Oregon have been given more attention. Even sites on the edge of the valley are being considered for restoration by conservation groups and land management agencies.
McCully Mountain, just east of Salem, is one such site. A parcel of BLM land with a bit of oak on a wet meadow surrounded by private lands, and in need of a little elbow grease.
So, with the help of volunteers and other staff, Corbin Murphy, BLM wildlife biologist, has been working for the last few years to restore the parcel. Or as he put it, “create some habitat on the landscape.”
I met with Corbin on a wet spring day to take a look at the progress.
The Hike
- Trailhead: No official trailhead.
- Distance: varies
- Details: Park at the pullout on East McCully Mountain Road. No trailhead or signage. There are no amenities at this site.
Classic BLM
Corbin and I carpooled out to the McCully site along some backcountry roads, before reaching a small pullout. A faint trail led us through a Douglas-fir Forest a short distance.
“This is kind of classic BLM,” said Corbin. In other words, a parcel of public land, abutted by private lands.
You see, in the late 1800s, as part of a settlement plan for the west, the federal government granted every other square mile swatch of land to the Oregon and California Railroad Company to fund the building of public transportation through the state, the other half was to be sold and distributed to settlers.
Unfortunately, fraudulent sales led to the reinvestment of the O&C lands where they were put under the jurisdiction of the U.S. Department of the Interior, General land Office (GLO). Today these lands are now managed by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM).
The problem is this “checkerboard pattern” of land ownership is a “nightmare for management.” Though there has been some consolidation of ownership, public and private lands still share extensive boundaries.
“Access and road problems are reoccurring,” Corbin explained. And McCully is no exception. “Folks can walk down the spur road to get to the BLM, it is public access,” despite warnings from signs posted on the gate.
ACEC
Eventually, the conifer forest peters out along a grassy ridge with views onto the surrounding hillside.
“This is the property line right here,” said Corbin.
Oregon white oak grow in huddled bunches along the ridge—mostly smaller trees trying to get a foothold. A soggy meadow lays quietly below.
“For the BLM this is one of our Areas of Critical Environmental Concern—an ACEC,” said Corbin. As such, McCully receives special management attention to protect its natural resources.
ACECs are established for a variety of reasons. Some are established for geology; others for their cultural or scenic value; and others for habitat, for example.
McCully was designated an ACEC for its scenic value, natural systems, and wildlife value.
“Special habs,” as Corbin put it—McCully is “not just some conifer forest… it is 80 acres of oak meadow.”
Inverts
As we continued down the ridge, Corbin and I were cognizant of the wildlife all around us.
A Northern pigmy owl called out in the distance. Deer and elk scat lay in darkened clumps on the bed of green grasses and herbaceous plants at our feet. I nearly trip over a mountain beaver burrow entry hidden on the ground.
However, it was the smaller, less conspicuous critters that Corbin is really jazzed about.
“There has been a lot of work on megafauna, and especially rare species,” Corbin explained, “but there are a lot of critters that are new to science and not studied. A lot of these are inverts.”
Invertebrates—animals without a backbone, like insects, spiders, and worms—play many important ecological roles. Many are pollinators; others are decomposers, for example. And all are key parts of food webs—supporting vertebrate species, like birds.
Thus, studying invertebrates can tell us a lot about the functioning of an ecosystem.
Moths
One group of invertebrates that hasn’t recieved a lot of attention are the moths. Which is why Corbin was thrilled to have McCully Peak included in a moth study organized by researchers at Oregon State’s Arthropod Collection.
The study was intensive with survey data collected every two weeks from light traps set up at four different points acrooss the meadow.
“Guess how many species we found?” asked Corbin, a twinkle in his eye.
“I don’t know, twenty,” I guessed reluctantly.
“Two hundred!” Corbin exclaimed. “And a bunch were for the first time documented in this county in Oregon,” he went on gleefully.
Of course, these results were collected before restoration work got underway.
“We will come back and do some post-treatment monitoring,” Corbin assured me.
Competition
Corbin and I continued to circle the forested meadow’s edge. Douglas-fir logs lay abandoned near their stumps along the ridge. Other conifers have been girdled—a strip of bark removed in a ring around their trunks.
“The down wood and snags are important for wildlife,” Corbin explains. Offering habitat for many species, including many of Corbin’s beloved invertebrates.
Perhaps even more importantly, Oregon white oaks are slow-growing species and can easily be shaded out by fast-growing conifers. So, a big part of oak restoration involves getting rid of the competition—in this case, Douglas-fir. But rather than simply harvesting the Douglas-fir trees and hauling them off, the trees are left in place to decay.
Corbin was also quick to note that, though the Douglas-fir have a foothold now, the shallow soils in the meadows make it difficult for the trees to succeed long term.
“Many are dying,” Corbin points out, but while they live, they make it more difficult for the oak.
Invasive Species
In addition to competing with conifers, oak habitats face encroachment from alien invaders—a.k.a. invasive species.
“This was all ringed with scotch broom,” Corbin shared as we cut along the meadow’s edge, dodging poison oak as we went. Shiny geranium, another invasive species, grew in large uniform patches at our feet.
“We pulled and cut all the scotch broom about 2 years ago,” said Corbin.
As Corbin and I headed down the hillside, we spotted a few new scotch broom sprouts. When it comes to invasive species, the work never really ends.
“It is going to be a constant battle,” resigned Corbin.
Volunteers
A lot of the restoration work, including removing invasive species, was done by volunteers using clippers and machetes. At McCully, several volunteer groups came out to help with the restoration work, including Northwest Youth Corps and Linn County Juvenile corrections, as well as a group from Backcountry Hunters and Anglers.
Volunteers also helped with basketing oaks—encircling young oak with netting to protect against browse.
“Deer are funny,” Corbin chuckled, “they love oak.” At one point, Corbin pointed out an oak that had been heavily browsed—nary a leaf could be seen.
Thanks to volunteers, more of the oaks can escape these pressures and have a chance to make it to maturity.
“I do love the opportunity to get the volunteers out,” said Corbin. “Something like this is really fun too,” he went on.
Corbin reminisced about the time the Backcountry Hunters and Anglers visited. Elk ran through the meadow and they saw a ton of wild turkey.
“We are coming back!” they told Corbin after a long day of volunteering.
“Good! This is your public lands, enjoy it!” was Corbin’s reply.
Suspected Species
The sky is gray, threatening rain. Corbin and I continued past more young oak and patches of scotch broom toward the meadow below.
Tracking down the hill, we followed a wide muddy path littered with deer and elk hoof impressions.
At the bottom of the hill is a wet meadow where yellow monkey flower grows in a wet seep. Fist-sized rocks lay scattered on the meadow that has been heavily grazed. The vegetation is clipped close to the ground in most areas. The scenery is beautiful, and wildlife clearly abundant.
Transfixed by the open, rocky expanse, I asked Corbin what sort of wildlife might use the space?
Well apart from the usual deer, elk, and other generalist species, Corbin mentioned several “suspected” species that he is hoping to find in the space. Streaked Horned Lark and Fender’s Blue butterflies, for instance—are two species associated with oak prairie in the Willamette Valley.
“We say ‘suspected,’” said Corbin, “If it is within the range and habitat requirements are all there.”
Desert Life
Another suspected species Corbin is excited about finding is the pallid bat.
“The pallid bat is a desert species that used to exist in the Willamette Valley,” explained Corbin. Other desert species, like ponderosa pine, jackrabbits, Northern Pacific rattlesnake, and burrowing owls were also once present in the Valley. But, like the pallid ba, these have all but been eliminated.
According to Corbin, the pallid bat is unique from other bats in that they don’t typically use echolocation but forage for ground-dwelling insects, like scorpions by sound. This can make them trickier to identify in the wild using passive acoustic recording units since they are not making ultrasonic calls to locate food.
“This is part of its historic range,” Corbin noted, so they could be here, or move here, even if they haven’t been identified yet.
Woodpeckers
The rhythmic thumping of a Northern Flicker sounded against the high-pitched songs of other bird species as we continued toward the forested edge of the meadow.
“What about woodpeckers?” I asked.
“It should be a feeding frenzy,” said Corbin, looking out on all the girdled conifers. “There are a lot of downy and hair woodpeckers, flickers, and pileated woodpeckers.”
Woodpeckers forage in dead and decaying trees, making the wooded edges of the meadow with newly developing snags, a great place to feast.
Lewis’s Woodpecker is another suspected species for the area, though none have been spotted yet. They were once widespread however due to habitat loss of mostly snags in oak, pine, and cottonwood woodlands their numbers are low. However, for all these species, Corbin is hopeful.
“If we create the habitat, they will come,” he tells me.
Making Habitat
Dark clouds continued to gather, as Corbin and I walked adjacent to the forest, looking up at more girdled conifers. Corbin admitted that girdling is not the ideal way to create snags but it is quicker and cheaper than topping them.
“It is expensive to top them,” he said, but “it creates an opportunity for spores to land on top and heart rot to enter.”
Ultimately, cavities form, making the tree not only an excellent foraging site for woodpeckers but useful for nesting as well.
Legacy Tree
Soon a large snag came into view. This was no restoration project tree—it’s open-top reached toward the sky.
“That is what we call a legacy tree,” said Corbin. “It was probably part of a previous cohort,” he speculated. “A stand-replacing fire came through and that was the only one that lived.”
Snags are excellent habitat for many species. Legacy trees are even more exceptional. Their large girth can support species that depend on a larger diameter tree.
“Those are great for bats,” Corbin exclaimed. “We have another bat that is out here,” he went on, “the fringed myotis.” Named for the fringes of hairs that can be found between their back legs.
“It loves snags,” said Corbin. “It roosts in the sloughing bark,” he continued.
However, in this case, size does matter. They need a larger diameter snag—”61 inches on average,” according to Corbin for roosting. “It is one of the limiting factors for fringed myotis.”
Large Down Wood
The life or death, as it were, of a legacy tree does not end there. When snags eventually fall to the ground, they continue to support species dependent on larger trees for survival. For example, Oregon slender salamander, an endemic to the Cascades, has only been found in large down wood.
Corbin expressed concern about these species. “Maybe around the turn of the century there were really big trees,” but… “fast forward and much of our forests are on a 30-to-40-year rotation.”
Large trees begat large snags begat large down wood. If we don’t have enough large trees, where does that leave us?
So, perhaps it is not surprising that Corbin called legacy trees “gems on the landscape.” They are both valuable and rare.
Intersection
We continued to follow the forest down to the property line, where BLM land abuts private. As we reached the fence, we could see another clear cut could be seen through the trees.
“Well, I guess there is more meadow now,” Corbin smirked.
A turkey sounded in the distance. Surprisingly, Corbin called back. The turkey gave no response. It remained silent, even after I gave a half-hearted gobble-gobble.
We passed a girdled tree that had fallen over. A few purple calypso orchids grew near its base. Then a bit later, Corbin spotted invasive mullein that gave him pause.
Eventually, we began to edge our way back through the meadow at the back end of the property. It was at this point, that it began to shower.
We had reached a point of intersection—between forest and meadow, public and private, and wet and dry—a confluence in more ways than one.
“Anytime you have the confluence of conifer forest, oak woodland, and prairie,” Corbin stated, “that is where you are getting cover, forage, and nesting opportunity.”
That is where you find wildlife.
Secret Garden
We soldiered on over the soft hummocks of grass and herbaceous plants. Rocky outcroppings and undulating hills gave the walk dimension. Prairie stars and rosy plectritis also made an appearance in these lower meadows.
“There is a lot of BLM ground like that that people just never really get to,” Corbin remarked as we passed by a patch of popcorn flower. “A fun part of my job is getting to explore these areas.”
This certainly rang true for McCully. There was no one around but us… and the deer.
Boundaries
As the rain picked up, Corbin and I decided to turn and loop back up to our vehicles. Corbin led the way—following the path of least resistance and least poison oak.
I was really starting to feel an affinity for the place—wildflowers have a way of doing that to me. Inspired by the unique landscape, I wondered just how much land BLM has designated as areas of critical environmental concern (ACEC). So, I asked Corbin.
“It is hard to tell,” he responded, “different field offices have different amounts of ACEC.”
For the Cascades field office, running from the Columbia River Gorge to Sweet Home, where Corbin works, he estimated a figure—“there are roughly fifteen thousand acres out of one-hundred-seventy thousand acres, about 8 percent in the Cascades Field office and about 2 percent across Western Oregon BLM.”
In short—there is not a lot.
Each ACEC is specifically delineated to encompass just the small area of land that contains a unique feature, like a rock garden or bog. ACECs are by definition scarce. Anything that isn’t unique makes up BLM timber reserves, some of which are open to timber sales and sustainably harvested.
Heading Home
We continued up the hill, passing by deer beds… “1, 2, 3, 4, 5…” Corbin counted as we walked by. We followed a creek bed that looked more like a slip and slide where you could see just how shallow the soil was above the exposed bedrock.
“Not even a couple of inches of soil on that,” Corbin exclaimed.
Eventually, we re-entered the familiar forest that we had walked through at the beginning of our hike—back into the ordinary.
Looking back through the trees at the oak meadow, it appeared almost magic against the grey sky—a secret tucked away in the west hills of the Cascades.
But McCully Peak isn’t a secret. It is one of many unique places scattered throughout our public lands—welcoming a visit.
Corbin Murphy is a Wildlife Biologist for the Salem District of Bureau of Land Management. He has been with the BLM for 13 years and currently works in the Cascades Field Office. He has also worked for the U.S. Forest Service.