Searching for sensors in the sleet

We had a very mild fall, but this week, our first BCE of winter and the first week back after break, Mother Nature finally gave us an authentic Oregon winter experience.

But before I dive into this week, it looks like the post I wrote (and thought I published) on Dec 13th about Balderdash never went live. In case you’re wondering why there was a big gap and then two at once, blame technocology or my inability to master it.

Anyway, we returned to a very full, but fortunately not overflowing, rain gauge.

Last month, I devised a new morning routine for us which is working quite well. Here’s how it goes: first a little poker! Just kidding. Actually, I have everyone’s name written on the back of a poker chip, and each of the weekly data collection tasks is written on the back of a different-colored chip. The three tasks are measuring the rain gauge, collecting and recording 10 minutes of bird song with the Merlin app, and measuring air and soil temperature with our new Verneir probe. Chance decides who is doing what that week, then the Bird team starts the app and everyone heads off for their sit spot. Ten minutes later, I howl three times and BCEs howl back (still one of my favorite parts of this job- the sound of wolf children echoing throughout the forest) and everyone gets to work with their science task.

Once all the jobs are complete, we meet at the table with field notebooks and each team reports their data to the group. The goal is to wait until this moment for a morning snack, but so far that is not always possible. The Temperature crew tells us the air and soil temperature, the Bird team tells us how many birds and if there were any new birds detected, and those checking the Rain gauge report total rainfall since the last time.

In addition to reporting the current rainfall, the Rain team also adds it to the year-to-date total since the start of the water year. Once they have the YTD total, they compare that number to a plot of high, low, and average rainfall at the BCW since we started collecting data in 2020. Where are we at this year? Pretty much tied for the lowest recorded rainfall for the year. That’s after adding the 8+ inches of rain we got over winter break.

This week I gave them a choice: update our field notebooks with water quality data from Balderdash in the shelter of main camp, or, wander through the pouring rain trying to find, repair, and download data from all the HOBO data loggers. It was a rare near-consensus for this group, and we headed off on a wet, cold adventure in the name of science.

Three of our data loggers live underwater in Bear Creek, the pond, and the stream above main camp. All three were intact and working- if not quite as beautiful as they were before starting their aquatic existence.

Legolas hangs in the meadow, Gimili resides in Bear Creek, the Balrog in the muck of the pond, and Arwen near the Village.

Soon, we made quick work of each stop with someone hitting the button, Bella downloading the data onto a research phone, and me marking the GPS coordinates in ONX. The last sensor was way up near the clear-cut. Just as we arrived, the heavy rain turned to snow!

Snow might be generous, and sleet more accurate, but the first flakes of the season were still pretty exciting.

Without missing a beat, our dedicated scientists found the most challenging sensor, and Terran climbed up to hit the button.

We hit a snag with the data download for this HOBO, but unsurprisingly, everyone was suddenly ready to run back and start a fire.

Have you ever tried to carve a featherstick and spark it up with a ferrorod in 34 degree weather, with frozen hands wearing wet cotton clothing? It’s not the easiest thing to do. Kudos to Rheah, who sparked up her fatwood featehrstick first and got our fire started. Also, much gratitude to our past selves who gathered and stacked kindling around the coals of our previous fire. The wood still wasn’t dry, but it was less wet than most of the stuff in the forest.

Once we had a steady, if smoky, fire going, we ate lunch and I took the opportunity to talk about a topic that’s been on my mind since the weather turned chilly. Each week, some of the kids come dressed in ways that make my wilderness survival instincts cringe. I mention it, but for the most part, they end up being right- it was a very mild fall, and we encountered very few heavy rain days. Most days, jeans and sweatshirts have ended up being fine.

But since everyone was too cold to leave the fire, I had a captive audience as I lectured about the importance of weather-appropriate clothing when spending the whole day outdoors in the winter. I’ve learned hard lessons in snow adventures myself, and although I expect some, like me, have to suffer their own natural consequences before they take these warnings seriously, I think it’s my job to at least try.

One acronym I find useful is COLD, which I used as the basis for my lecture. C: Clean, O: Over-heating, L: Loose Layers, D: Dry. When a good friend invited me on my first snow camping trip many years ago, he wrote in all caps on the invitation: COTTON EQALS DEATH! And I’ve never forgotten it.

We practiced some knots, including my old nemesis and new favorite, the clove hitch.

And built a nest of tinder above the fire before heading home.

In case you’re looking at the above image and thinking, “That is the most irresponsible way to leave a fire!” (which of course would be true in the dry season) I’ve got one more little story to tell. Over the break, my friends and family tried our best to have a bonfire to burn a brush pile in the meadow. Two cans of gasoline and a campfire’s worth of dry wood could not get the pile to catch. It was funny and embarrassing and showed me I have a lot to learn about burning slash piles, but, I can assure you that this little arrangement will not burn down the forest.