Robins visit Willamette Valley

The robin has always been one of the first signs of spring, a promise of better things to come.

The timing for hope seemed perfect: in the midst of the snowstorm last week, a large number of robins descended on my yard in Salem, Ore., flittering and bopping all over the place.

The normally defensive, jealous birds flock together this time of year in preparation for their annual migration northbound. Sometimes they visit for just a day, sometimes they'll stay for a couple of weeks around my yard, but everywhere you look there are robins. There usually are 50 to 100 at a time, and they quickly outnumber the usual sparrows and blue jays who are fighting at the bird feeders.

According to information about robins published by Oregon State University, when they're migrating robins can fly up to 36 miles per hour and travel 200 miles per day.

I'm guessing my visitors came from Baja, Mexico, and that they had a good time there. I had some pretty plump robins in the yard. That didn't stop them from finding the bird feeder, chasing away a few squirrels for any berries in the yard, and eating anything else they could find.

Even squirrels know when they're outnumbered. They hid away, chattered furiously and flipped their tails, but didn't challenge the robins for their cherished berries.

Perhaps it's because they figured they still had their hazelnuts tucked safely away.

Meanwhile, my cats are taking up birdwatching...




Technorati tags: Agriculture
robins
Oregon birds

Cartoonist responds to criticism, shares memories

I got a note today from Rik Dalvit, a freelance cartoonist whom we regularly feature on the opinion pages of Capital Press. Rik saw the letter we received from Andrew Moore of the National Agricultural Aviation Association about one of his cartoons on ag pilots. Rik shared some of his thoughts with me, and I asked his permission to share those thoughts with you.

Mr. Moore wasn't very happy with the cartoon we published in the Capital Press. If you missed that, I wrote a post about it on our other blog and also posted it on this blog.

Here's Rik's response:

Gary,
I read the letter from Andrew Moore, and your response.

His use of the word "storming" rather than "buzzing" made me wonder if he actually saw the cartoon.

That cartoon remains a favorite of mine, when I did it, I never intended, nor did I think it would offend anyone.

My dad was a pilot, not an ag pilot, but a civilian recreational flier, and I was privileged to spend some incredible time in the air with him and also on the ground, hanging around the small airport where the plane, a surplus Fairchild trainer, he co-owned with a buddy was hangared.

One day we watched a pilot flying a Stearman spraying an orchard, and marvelled at the skill he exhibited.

I have watched ag pilots flying on other occasions, recognize their skill, and respect the work they do.

I have respect and appreciation for everyone in agriculture, an industry which is the foundation of a stable civilization, and prevents the necessity of all of us being wandering hunter gatherers.

I especially like working for Capital Press because of the very readership it serves.

Sincerely,
Rik

I really liked Rik's note and his sharing of the anecdotes about his father. It reminded me of many happy times I spent hanging out at airports and airstrips with my dad as a kid. The memory he shares about seeing a Stearman spraying a field reminded me of my dad and my uncle and the Stearmans they both used to use for spraying.

Dad kept one Stearman for many years, long after he had upgraded his spray planes to more modern and more efficient models. He sometimes talked about taking the spray tank out of it and restoring it to its original two-cockpit configuration. I would have loved that. I never got the chance to ride in an open cockpit plane, even though I was around them a lot in my youth. They'd all been converted to spray planes, with the front seat taken out to make room for a tank to carry ag chemicals.

I wrote a post a while back about how difficult it is to buy gifts for my father. There's only one gift I ever got him where I felt maybe, just maybe, I got it right. I got my dad a print of a painting that showed two Stearman's and a Harley-Davidson motorcycle's in it. The original painting by Stan Stokes is called "Two Ways to Fly." Stokes' work is featured prominently at the Palm Springs Air Museum. I took my dad there once and he seemed to admire Stokes' aviation art.


When I saw the "Two Ways to Fly" print, it reminded me of my dad when he was a younger man. One of my favorite photos of my dad is an old black-and-white picture with him posing with his Harley-Davidson motorcycle. And I have a very fond memory of a ride I once took with my dad on his Harley. I don't know how old I was, but I know I was pretty small. I sat up on the gas tank, with my hand on a center portion of the handlebars. And as I mentioned early, there he did some of his early flying in Stearmans. The ones in the print aren't spray planes, but when I saw that print I saw my dad.

I should have bought one of those prints for myself.

Thanks for sharing, Rik. I enjoyed reading about your memories which sparked some very pleasant ones for me as well.

Technorati tags: Agriculture

Sometimes less is more

Sorry, I haven't had a new post here in a couple of days. It's been a bit busy. If you are a regular visitor to the Capital Press website, you may notice that we have had a lot more breaking news/news update posts over the last couple of weeks.

I've been helping our staff reporters post their news items to our website. The recent freeze in California has dominated news, but there have been other items as well.

We are attempting to make more frequent and newsworthy posts to CapitalPress.com. The downside this week has meant that the time I might ordinarily spend working on blog posts has been used to edit, format and post updates on our main website.

I hope we'll bet back to regular updates here too before too long. But for now, fewer posts here has meant more posts on CapitalPress.com.

Stay tuned and be patient.

Technorati tags: Agriculture

Let it snow

It's snowing in the Willamette Valley. This rare occurrence is the stuff that can strike fear and dread in the heart of anyone forced to venture out on the roads.

Fortunately, a lot of folks seem to have decided to stay home today. The roads are fairly quiet and even foot traffic on the sidewalks is light, leaving few footprints in the fresh snow.

I'm just glad I don't have to venture out in this stuff to feed cattle or something.

Yuck.

Of course the snow and freezing rain here is not nearly as damaging as the freezing temperatures have been on agriculture in California.

It's going to be a long winter for some of those folks.

Damage not always visible from the outside

It's the type of disaster that doesn't make for dramatic footage on the evening news. But the freezing temperatures gripping much of the West have a stranglehold on California's citrus groves and others vulnerable food crops.

Much of California, particularly the areas where agriculture and people are centered, rarely experience prolonged periods of freezing temperatures. It's part of what makes the state such an ordinarily ideal place to farm, and a nice place for the thin-skinned among us to live (or spend our winter months).

But when cold hits, it can destroy crops, like oranges and lemons, and wipe out the livelihoods of growers, farmworkers and packing plant workers alike.

The devastation occurring right now in California isn't as immediately visible as that wrought by a hurricane, flood or tornado.

Fruit hanging on trees, to outward appearances, looks normal. However, much of the citrus still hanging on trees in groves through the San Joaquin Valley and even in Southern California will never make it to the grocer's shelf.

Some may get turned into juice, but there isn't much call for orange juice from California. Florida has a virtual lock on that market.

It is in the weeks ahead when people traveling through the citrus groves will notice something amiss. Fruit will begin to accumulate on the ground, left to rot and draw flies.

Back in 1998, when the last major freeze swept through the California citrus belt, a few cold December days rocked many San Joaquin Valley communities. The signs of the disaster were most visible away from the groves in places like the unemployment office, were people with "stable" jobs suddenly found themselves out of work.

There were lines everywhere. People lining up for jobs, lining up for food, lining up for assistance from government agencies and local charities.

At the time of the last big freeze I was editor of a small daily newspaper in the buckle of the California citrus belt, Porterville, Calif. For months the news throughout the paper was dominated by damage estimate and relief efforts to help the hard-working families who suddenly found themselves struggling to keep their families fed, their utilities on and a roof over their heads.

Now, when the memories of that disaster have grown dim by the passing years, the memories, uncertainty and fear for many of those same communities comes flooding back, thank to an Arctic blast of air that refused to go away. And all that occurring just a little more than six months after record heat in July wreaked its own havoc (and more the $1 billion in damage) through the heart of California's farming country.

In the coming days, weeks and months the tallies will be done as to the extent of the damage to crop. But this disaster isn't just about lost oranges and lemons. It's about lost incomes and disappearing jobs too and families wondering how they will feed their children and pay the power bill.

For folks from northern-tier states, they may not have much sympathy for those poor Californians having to endure a few nights below freezing. And they may barely notice that the fruits and vegetable they ordinarily expect to find in their favorite stores' produce sections aren't there. But the devastation California is still enduring is real and about more than a few days of chilly temperatures. It's about lost livelihoods and desperation.

The one positive I saw come out of the freeze of 1998 was that the communities of California's Central Valley came together to help their neighbors through the hardship. I hope that the freeze of 2007 surpassed that event with its outpouring of generosity and support.

You can read updates about the affects of the freeze in California at capitalpress.com.

Technorati tags:
Weather, Agriculture

Dairy princesses deserve a toast

SALEM, Ore. — Watching the Oregon Dairy Princess-Ambassador coronation banquet on Saturday night, I admired how well the competitors from various counties had prepared for this event. They were charming, confident, courteous and knowledgeable. Each reflected how passionate and proud she was to represent and promote the dairy industry.

They memorized long fact-filled speeches, wore gorgeous long gowns, answered questions spontaneously, and kept their dignity intact and smiles on their faces as long as they could — even when they might have made any mistakes while in the spotlight in front of an audience of mostly strangers.

Their lives flashed before them on the screen: videos showed these women as they grew up from little girls on farms and dairies in the state. We saw their classmates, families, farm animals: we saw these women as they played sports, posed with their siblings, and saw them change from farm girls doing chores at home one moment to being escorted in heels to the stage in Salem, Ore. while dressed in formal wear.




Whether they won or lost, these women usually shared how much they had matured during the time they competed for this title. They learned about themselves as well as picked up skills preparing them for this position.

Shannon Henderson, of Tillamook County, earned the honor of being the next dairy princess-ambassador. In an interview later, she talked about how in the next year she will gain new realms of responsibility and learn “ to be ladylike in front of all these people.” She said that a charm class had already taught her and the others “how to sit, talk, walk, eat, sleep and be ladylike at the same time.”



I have this image of Michael Caine teaching Sandra Bullock how to be ladylike in the movie Miss Congeniality and I think … he was lucky. She was an easy one, compared to me.

Anyone who can make a transformation from working on the farm to being totally comfortable, confident and a coronation contender earns my respect any day.

For any of us who grew up on a farm or still toil on one, we all know how big of a challenge it can be sometimes to be ladylike and maybe even glamorous.

After pushing around stubborn cows in a stall to coax them to accept their calves, mucking around with heavy hay bales for steers and heifers in the muddy feedlot, picking rocks in a dusty field, shoveling itchy grain in and out of trucks and bins, picking berries with stained hands, weeding and digging and pulling and doing everything else our gardens and fields needed, well … sometimes I wondered whether I could ever truly learn to be ladylike. I think I’ve given up that goal in this lifetime.

But I raise a glass of milk to toast all those who competed this year in their respective counties and states to be the next dairy princess.