Restoration Archives - Trail Scholar

Hike with a Land Conservationist

In my experience, relationships with places are not all that different from relationships with people. You have to spend time with a place to get to know it. Ask it questions. Become familiar with its moods and seasons. Learn what makes it tick. Before long, an intimacy may develop and you may even find yourself saying the L-word—love. It takes time. Sure there are those love-at-first-sight moments—but those are fleeting. A deep relationship to the land is more than a few moments on a clifftop view watching the sunset.

When it comes to Whychus Canyon Preserve, few people have a deeper relationship with the land as Sarah Mowry. As a staff member at the Deschutes Land Trust for the last 15 years, Sarah has been with the property since it was first established in 2010, and in 2014 when an additional 480 acres were added. With that in mind, I met Sarah at the Whychus Canyon Preserve trailhead on a cool autumn afternoon to explore the place for the first time.

Sarah Mowry making her way along the trail.

The Hike

Trailhead: Whychus Canyon Preserve Trailhead
Distance: about 4 miles
Elevation Gain: approximately 500 feet
Details: Directions and details are found at the Deschutes Land Trust website.

Welcome to Whychus

Before hitting the trail, Sarah gave me a bit of background on the Whychus Watershed. Whychus Creek is a glacier-fed stream. The creek begins up near the Three Sisters, tears downhill until it reaches Alders Springs and its confluence with the Deschutes River.

Most of the river’s path is marked by deep canyons, but there are some places where the land opens up and meadow habitat is possible. According to Sarah, Whychus Canyon Preserve, the property we were about to explore, has some of the best meadow habitats. These meadows are “biological hotspots,” Sarah explained.

In addition, Whychus Canyon Preserve provides habitat features for Chinook salmon and steelhead, which are being reintroduced into the Deschutes River Basin. “There has been a huge collaborative effort to bring them back led by the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs and Portland General Electric,” explained Sarah.

The preserve also provides migratory routes for terrestrial species, like deer and elk, as they move down into their winter range. “The habitat connection the Preserve provides to adjacent public land is huge,” said Sarah,. And at 930 acres, the Whychus Canyon Preserve extended the habitat substantially.

Plus, Whychus Canyon Preserve has an extensive trail system with 7 miles of established trail for people to explore.

All this to say, Whychus Canyon Preserve has a lot going for it.

Trailhead kiosk provides background information about Whychus Canyon Preserve

Restore

After several minutes discussing the property, Sarah and I realized we better hit the trail if we were going to finish our hike before sunset. We had decided on a 4-mile loop down to the river and we immediately began our descent.

As we tripped downhill past dried bunchgrass and sagebrush and past juniper and pine, Sarah told me about the Land Trust’s forest restoration work. She explained that when the Land Trust first acquired the property, the forested canyon was thick with small juniper and pine. So in order to restore the land, some of the trees were thinned out by hand.

Restore. Restore is a tricky word. It means to return to its former state. But how far back do you go? Can cutting down trees really be considered restorative?

The short answer is—it depends! Restoration work, as Sarah explained it, all depends on the location, local ecology, and the project goals. For the Whychus Canyon Preserve, cutting down a few trees made sense. It helped with fire protection and opened up the forest for larger pines and junipers while promoting healthier habitat for all sorts of other plants and animals.

Jumpstart

One of the Land Trust’s goals for Whychus Canyon Preserve, is to “restore a natural functioning system,” said Sarah. And, sometimes, a hands off approach won’t get you there. Past hands have already had an impact, so expecting nature to bring it back just isn’t going to happen. Healing the relationship between the land and people requires time and work. “You need to jumpstart the system,” said Sarah, “Give it a leg up so it can get itself back to a healthy place.”

Of course, the way you do so can be tricky. For example, in Whychus Creek at nearby Camp Polk Meadow Preserve, another Land Trust restoration site, the stream was restored by digging out historic channels and adding curves and other features for habitat complexity. Fast forward four years and the Land Trust is working with partners to restore Whychus Creek at Whychus Canyon Preserve using more process-oriented methods. “We are learning things all of the time,” Sarah said, “The kind of restoration work we were doing now has evolved from what we did 10 years ago.”

Canyon Bottom

Before long, Sarah and I had made it down to the bottom of the canyon and the crystal clear waters of Whychus Creek. Trees and shrubs line much of its banks, as it continues cutting its way down deepening the canyon.

“We haven’t done any stream restoration in this part of the Preserve yet,” said Sarah. Eventually, she explained, a detailed plan is currently being created that will lay out everything—stream structure, plantings, habitat features, etc. Thousands of native plants will be brought in to fill in the gaps. And logs—lots and lots of whole trees are needed. “Large woody debris,” as it is often called, provides cover for fish and aids in the development of stream habitat diversity.

Free

As we hiked along the bottomlands, Sarah pointed to areas where strips of land had clearly been raised adjacent to the creek; probably dug by the Army Corps of Engineers with good intent to reduce flooding. Instead, these berms disconnected the stream channel from its floodplain, limiting the ability of Whychus Creek to spread out. Thus giving the creek access to its floodplain will also be an important part of the restoration plan.

However, this doesn’t mean the creek will simply be rechanneled—directed by the will of people. Instead, a process-based restoration is being implemented throughout the Whychus Canyon Preserve. With this sort of plan, the Whychus Creek will be free to find its own path, or paths, as it were.

The Land Trust has already begun using this sort of methodology on the northernmost mile of recent creek restoration efforts at the Preserve. Left to find its own path, Whychus Creek has created several new channels and water is beginning to saturate the surrounding landscape. In fact, some of the pines in the floodplain are dying off because the soils are now too wet to support them. “It’s a little hard to watch,” said Sarah, but it’s all part of the process. Those trees will become homes for other animals as snags or provide cover for fish.”

The newly wet floodplain also meant a different planting plan for the restoration. When you let the creek choose where it will go, you can’t choose where to put the water-loving plants or the plants that prefer dryer conditions, so you plant a little of everything everywhere, explained Sarah.

Berms along Whychus Creek disconnect the stream channel from its floodplain.

Healing

Restoration isn’t hands-off, but all hands on deck. It is work. The land comes with “baggage” from past human relationships—sometimes scars. Restoration is providing the opportunity for renewal, a starting point. Then knowing when to back off and let nature heal itself.

Watching the land heal is a huge perk of Sarah’s 15 years with the trust. “It is awesome because I get to see the positive changes we can make over time.”

Land Trust

Earlier on during our hike, Sarah pointed out several houses built along the rimrock on the opposite side of Whychus Creek from the land trust’s property. Now, as we began to make our ascent back up the canyon, more houses came into view perched above us.

“Development is a challenge to nature,” explained Sarah. “A lot of good habitat is on private land. What can you do when it is covered over?”

That is why land trusts are an important part of the land conservation equation. Land trusts fill in the gaps where public lands can’t by strategically purchasing lands, or establishing land protection agreements called conservation easements, with a focus on the future.

The Deschutes Land Trust was first established in 1995 for this very reason. Central Oregon was developing at a rapid pace and many community members were concerned about the loss of wild areas and vital habitats. So when a well-beloved parcel of land went up for sale and was threatened with development, community members came together, and the Deschutes Land Trust got started, by protecting their first property—the 63 acre Indian Ford Meadow Preserve just outside of Sisters, OR.

Now the Deschutes Land Trust manages over 17,000 acres of land.

View across Whychus Creek where houses line the rimrock.

Easements

Nearly half of the Land Trust’s lands are protected through land protection agreements called conservation easements. Conservation easements are agreements with landowners to protect or restrict certain activities on their private property in perpetuity. Each agreement is unique to the land and the owner.

Why would a landowner want to put an easement on their property? “Most of our landowners have done it because they have a conservation vision,” said Sarah.

View at the Top

The trail steepened as Sarah and I climbed some rock steps, sweating our way to the top of the canyon and a sweeping view looking out over the preserve. Sarah told me that the trail builder that put in the steps we were climbing was all about “the journey instead of the destination.” But I have to admit, the destination, in this case, was sort of the point.

Looking out across the canyon, layers of rim rock were imbued with a golden hue, and stately pine trees mixed with juniper dotted the landscape all the way down to the fall-colored leaves of deciduous trees that lined Whychus Creek. In the distance, you could just make out the meadow that Sarah had talked about earlier. This was one of those moments—a beginning—a connection to the land.

We paused here to take in the scenery and experience the preserve from a different vantage point. Sarah pulled out a map of the area that showed a conceptual rendition of the new stream channels that were forming and reforming as the meadow has been restored with an influx of water. And we talked at some length about restoration monitoring methods and the wonders of lidar imagery.

But the sun was getting lower and we had families to get home to, so we made the difficult decision to continue onward, following the trail along the canyon rim to our cars.

Time for Change

As we walked along patches of old growth juniper and sagebrush steppe, Sarah and I talked about the people in our lives and the changes we have been dealing with lately. We discussed the challenges of having kids in distance learning, changing job responsibilities, and just a general sense of loss that life has taken lately.

One of Sarah’s responsibilities as outreach director is to coordinate events that bring people to the preserves to learn more about it. People need to “learn about a place to care about a place,” Sarah explained. And for the time being, these sorts of events are just not possible.

Renewal

Looking around at the dried out sagebrush and bunchgrass along the path, it is difficult to imagine anything else. But each spring the brown earth is renewed with bright fields of green and colorful spring wildflowers. “Gold stars blanket the floor,” Sarah said in remembrance. The “star” of the show are dime-sized goldfield daisies that bloom in early spring, enveloping the land in a warm yellow profusion of color.

The winter we are facing right now makes it seem like we will never see spring. But barren landscapes can be returned to beauty and function whether through changing season, or, at times, through restoration.

This makes me think, perhaps that is what is really needed—a restoration. To be brought back to an ancient connection with the land, and with the people that inhabit it. We need to turn to one another and turn to the land. Nurture relationships. Listen and learn. It will take work—hard work—and a good deal of patience, but if we can get things moving in the right direction, perhaps nature will kick in and bring us back to something better.

Now that is a change I would love to observe.

Sarah Mowry is the Deschutes Land Trust’s Outreach Director. Sarah has been with the trust for the past 15 years. She has a Bachelor’s Degree in Environmental Studies from Middlebury College and a Masters Degree from the University of Montana.

Hike with a Habitat Wildlife Biologist

View of the Sandy River from the trail at Oxbow Regional Park.

10 Essentials

When you are out hiking, it is often recommended that you bring along “the 10 essentials:” navigation, sunscreen, knife, first aid, headlamp, fire starter, shelter, extra clothes, extra food, and extra water. These items are necessary for your survival, especially when things don’t go according to plan.

Wild animals also have “essentials”—things they need to survive. However, unlike humans, they can’t carry these in a pack but must find what they need in their environment. In a healthy, unaltered ecosystem, this can be a challenge. In a heavily impacted ecosystem, it can become impossible.

Meet Bill

As a habitat wildlife biologist for over 40 years, Bill Wieler’s CV is jam-packed with conservation, education, and restoration work. Bill has spent his entire career studying how to best protect wildlife and ensure their essential needs are met; as well as, worked on countless restoration and enhancement projects to that end.

So when I met up with Bill at the Alder Group Picnic area at Oxbow Regional Park near Gresham, Oregon to begin our hike, I was thrilled to learn more, not just about wild animals, but the places they live and how we can do our part to protect them.

Bill Wieler standing next to a Pacific yew.

The Hike

Trailhead: Alder Group Picnic Area
Distance: 2+ miles
Elevation Gain: approximately 400 ft
Details: It costs $5 for parking. There are about 12 miles of hiking trails to explore. There are many different trail entry points to choose from.

Yew Should Consider the Yew

Starting down the trail, one of the first things Bill pointed out was a Pacific yew tree. I love Pacific yew trees. As slow-growing conifers, they are often hidden among taller, more conspicuous trees. I often find them dripping with layers of moss and lichen, almost entirely concealing their noteworthy beautiful red bark.

“It used to be considered a weed tree with no timber value,” said Bill, referring to the yew. He explained, only later, did scientists discover that its bark could be used to produce a cancer-fighting drug called taxol. “I always mention yew because it shows we really should be taking care of everything because we don’t know what animals and plants can provide.”

Wildlife is Essential

Wildlife is essential—it provides a host of benefits. Not every species will provide a cancer-fighting chemical like the Pacific yew, but ecosystems that contain a lot of different species have the potential to provide a myriad of benefits.

According to Bill, “we depend upon natural ecosystems for many of our needs.” “Food, fuel, and fiber” are perhaps the first of these benefits that come to mind. However, there are many less obvious benefits, including clean air and water, decomposition of wastes, and flood protection. This is not to mention the many social and emotional benefits biodiverse ecosystems offer. As Bill puts it, “they give us a complete, more healthy world. They enhance our sense of wonder and place.”

Edible red huckleberries were abundant along the trail.

Moving Up

Unfortunately, most species are lost quietly without anyone noticing—species are lost before we even have a chance to appreciate their value. Even well-known species have faced threats because we have undervalued them. For example, during the 1900s wolves were nearly eradicated from the lower 48 states in the U.S. because they were seen as dangerous to livestock operations.

Bill is optimistic though. He told me how he often polls people regarding their feelings on various wildlife species. And wolves, among other once-hated-species, have been moving up the list. As scientists have come to recognize the role of top predators in keeping other populations in check—what Bill referred to as “trickle-down ecology”—public acceptance of wolves has improved. For some reason, Bill hasn’t seen a large shift in public opinion when it comes to mosquitos and ticks though.

Forest Dynamics

As we hiked deeper into the Douglas-fir/Hemlock forest, our conversation shifted from individual species of trees to consider forests. Forests are more than a collection of trees. Rather, healthy forests are dynamic ecosystems that operate as a unit. In fact, many of the wildlife benefits discussed earlier are really a function of a biodiverse ecosystem and not individual species.

According to Bill, there are six structures of a healthy forest ecosystem: 1) big trees, 2) snags, 3) logs, 4) soil, 5) open spaces, and 6) canopy layers. All of these components work together to keep the ecosystem functioning.

While big trees provide excellent habitat for some species, like bats; when trees fall in the forest, it opens up space for new species and canopy layers to grow. These new species provide new resources and increased ecosystem resiliency. In addition, the down-wood and standing dead trees called snags, that remain following a blowdown, provide habitat for a host of insects and bacteria. In fact, dead trees can host far more species than living trees, according to Bill. Then, over time the woody material decomposes, which builds the soil, providing nutrients for the next generation of forest plants.

Can you find the six structures of a healthy forest in this picture?

Observations of a Forest

Bill pointed out that all of the six structures are observable in the forest at Oxbow Regional Park. The park even has some old-growth forest within its boundaries. In contrast, a forest that has been managed for timber production is less likely to contain all of these structures and/or in less abundance. For example, 8-10 snags per acre are typical of a healthy forest, while forestry laws only require leaving behind 2 per acre following a clearcut.

So next time you visit a forest, go ahead—count up the snags; note the various stages of log decomposition; observe how light filters through the canopy layers down to the forest floor; wrap your arms around a big tree. Though much of the changes that occur in a forest are slow, you can still appreciate the dynamics of the forest if you take the time to pay attention.

Fish Need Forests

As Bill and I followed the trail in a southwesterly direction, we found ourselves hiking just above the banks of the meandering course of the Sandy River. The Sandy River is about a 56 miles long tributary to the Columbia River and, apart from the Columbia, has the highest productivity of salmonid species in Oregon. Efforts to enhance the Sandy River to ensure it can continue to support salmonid populations are a big part of Bill’s current and past work.

However, while discussing salmon with Bill, he directed my attention back toward the forest. He pointed out a large down tree near the trail. You see, forests are not only important to terrestrial wildlife. Fish need forests too.

Down-tree that Bill pointed out during our hike.

Bill explained, trees in streams and rivers, especially those with roots, provide a place for fish to hide from predators. They also disrupt the flow of water—creating a more dynamic stream channel with resting pools, gravel for fish to spawn in, and habitat for invertebrates.

Historically, the Sandy River had many logjams, as logs naturally recruit in stream beds over time. However, much of the logs in the Sandy River were removed by the Army Corps in the 60s as part of flood control efforts. Since then, returning logjams to the Sandy River has become an important part of stream enhancement work today.

The Log Father

They call me the “log father,” Bill said—a nickname he acquired due to his persistent hunt for large trees needed for stream restoration. However, creating a log jam is not as simple as finding dislodged trees and dumping them in the river. It takes a lot of planning, engineering, and equipment to get large logs in place and secure them. It is expensive work too! According to Bill, logjams are like icebergs— they are mostly underground. Human-constructed logjams must be secured in the ground in order to function properly, as well as to prevent them from being washed away in a big storm.

Later, after Bill and I parted ways, I spent some time walking the trails along the Sandy River looking for logjams. I was able to spot the top of several just at the water’s surface.

Dismal to Happy

After some time, Bill and I reached a small bridge that went over a very small stream. This creek used to be named “Dismal Creek,” Bill told me, but now it is called “Happy Creek.” Why? Easy! We were standing next to an old floodplain of the Sandy River that had become disconnected during the age of dams, log removal, and channelization of rivers.

Happy Creek was an attempt to bring water back into the river system by restoring one of its side channels. In order to achieve this goal, a culvert was added on the opposite side of the road to collect runoff and divert it to the floodplain—turning dismal creek into a happy water-filled channel, with even happier consequences.

What are those happy consequences? Well for starters, floodplains make excellent feeding grounds for fish; they also are a great place for fish to escape turbulent flows and find rest. In addition, floodplains help reduce river pollution by collecting sediments and removing nutrients. Of course, one of the big reasons floodplains are making a comeback is because they reduce flooding and prevent erosion by dispersing flood energy away from areas we want to protect, like homes and businesses.

How to Restore

Bill and I hiked down to the floodplain to observe it more closely. Seven years ago, Bill was the lead on the “Happy Creek Project,” so he was anxious to see how it was doing. When we got down there, he was thrilled to see the channel they had created had water in it. Though there was no way to know if the Sandy River or Happy Creek was the source of water, he was thrilled to see it was still wet this late in the year.

The floodplain channel still filled with water in June.

Restoration is still fairly “new science.” Bill discussed that even during the initial phases of the Happy Creek Project, plans were easily dismantled as the team responded to nature. For example, at one point during the project, they found Pacific Lamprey in the restoration site. This was exciting news! But it also required the team to adapt their plans in order to protect the fish.

Failure is part of the gig when it comes to restoration work, but along with it further understanding. “I have learned a lot from each project,” Bill told me. Observing and continuing to monitor projects will only reveal more. Bill said that he hoped to see gravel one day get washed into the floodplain here, creating spawning habitat. Will it? Only time will tell.

Looking Out for Fish

Even though restoration results vary widely, scientists do know a lot about what good fish habitat looks like. We know what fish need. So if you are visiting a river or stream, Bill suggests looking for several features in order to assess its habitat quality for fish. First, he suggests checking the water temperature. Many fish species in the Pacific Northwest require really cold water to survive and reproduce. If the temperature feels good to you, it is probably too warm for the fish. Second, check the turbidity, or how difficult it is to see the stream bottom. Cloudy water is often the result of sediment pollution and can clog gills or smother fish eggs. Third, look for a variety of substrates in the water. Are there logs and boulders for insects to live on? Is there gravel for spawning? Finally, check for man-made barriers, like culverts that may make travel impossible for migratory fish.

Of course, if you find any of these features missing, you can also do something about it! For instance, joining your local watershed council is a great way to be involved and learn about restoration work you can participate in locally.

Living with Wildlife

About halfway through our hike, we looped back up to the road and crossed it to join a trail on the other side. Just before we made the loop, I asked Bill about what he felt were the important issues or topics in wildlife today. His answer really came down to one major theme—education. Most people still really don’t understand the habits of wildlife. We don’t know how to live with wildlife.

He explained—when it comes to wolves, for example, we have removed them from the endangered species list because their numbers are up. Yet, their distribution is very limited with packs only established in few places. According to Bill, for animals that have this sort of clumped distribution, delisting just doesn’t make sense

Another example Bill offered was with coyotes. Some people really don’t like coyotes and will kill them on sight. Never mind that coyotes are a minor threat compared to other species, but killing them is counterproductive. As Bill described it, coyotes have an innate reproductive trait that causes them to increase their litter size—from 2-3 up to as many as eight pups—when their numbers are threatened.

Then there is the deer problem. Most people don’t worry about deer populations, and may even feed deer—treating them like wild pets—attracting them into suburban and urban areas. However, according to Bill, deer are the most dangerous wildlife species of all, with more people becoming injured or even dying from deer-related automobile accidents.

Risk Perception

Perhaps more than any other species, Mountain Lion threat is most misunderstood. Bill told me about a study he was involved in called CAT: scientists, with the assistance of local students radio-collared 25 mountain lions in order to see how much they were interacting with human populations. They found that mountain lions stayed away from people. The only time a mountain lion was tracked near humans during the study was in a case where a farmer was attracting deer, their primary food source.

Yet, people fear cougars because of a few newsworthy incidents. According to Bill, the result of these reports, and associated fears, means more taxpayer dollars being diverted toward tracking down and killing cougars, often without good reason.

If you are personally afraid of mountain lion encounters, Bill recommends avoiding dusk and dawn visits to areas where cougars have been sighted, especially if you plan to bike or run.

Overall, there are better ways to reduce cougar associated risk that doesn’t involve killing the animal.

A Changing Climate

Speaking of changing public perception of risk, climate change remains a risk worth paying attention to throughout the world, including in the Sandy River Watershed.

As Bill and I trekked through some heavy mud on the trail back to where we parked, he made a point to discuss his concerns with climate change. Bill explained—when it comes to climate change we know very little about how it will impact most wildlife species. We know fish will be profoundly impacted, for example, but the extent of the impact is still tenuous.

But, Bill emphasized, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do anything about it. In fact, the Sandy River is a cold water refuge for fish traveling in the Columbia River, making it a priority area to protect from climate change.

Bill’s favorite climate change solution is trees. He said that any chance he gets to talk to a climate scientist he asks them about planting trees, and he always gets a positive response.

Thus, under Bill’s direction, about 1.5 million trees and shrub species have been planted in the Sandy River Delta, with future plans to plant more in surrounding areas. Bill focused on using native trees in the plantings, including regionally native trees, such as madrone, oak, and ponderosa pine, chosen as a way to prepare for Oregon’s climate in the coming decades.

Is it just me, or am I sensing a theme? Trees are not only essential for both terrestrial and aquatic habitat needs right now, but their importance extends much further—as they play a role in improving Earth’s climate future.

A patch of old growth found along the trail.

Appreciating Wildlife

During the last stretch of the hike, I asked Bill one final question, how can we be more like him? How can someone start thinking and behaving more like a wildlife habitat biologist? Bill had a lot of great answers (some of which I mentioned in earlier sections). However, one idea that stood out as significant was the need to spend quality time appreciating nature.

Bill emphasized the need to spend time in stillness and silence. He talked about a youth education program he was involved in years ago. One of the activities was a 15-minute silence-solitude station. He talked about an eight-year-old who was determined to remain still during the activity—she didn’t move even when it was clear something was creeping up behind her. Eventually, she was face to face with a doe. “That kind of experience stays with you forever,” Bill emphasized. “One-on-one experiences with nature are invaluable.”

I tend to agree.

Though I draw the line with mosquitoes. Sorry, Bill! I just can’t!

Bill Weiler worked for 20 years for the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife. He now works full time with the Sandy River Watershed Council and as a wildlife habitat consultant. He is also the author of the book, “Don’t Run From Bears: Living With Wildlife in the Columbia River Gorge.”