Blog From The Bog:

By Seth Bynum
Chris said it succinctly in his post. Thursday at the Hylebos was cold. Cold for March 27. Cold even for December 27.
When I woke up that morning to a dusting of snow in my backyard, I immediately began thinking how beautiful the Hylebos must look with its vivid spring greens layered in bright white.
The 7 a.m. sun would soon melt away this late-March miracle, so I threw on a jacket, grabbed my camera and tripod, and bolted out the door.
For the next 45 minutes, I inched along in a sea of commuters from my home in Tacoma, jockeying for position and counting down the exits until I reached Federal Way.
Somewhere between nearly getting rear-ended at the Tacoma Dome and nearly rear-ending another vehicle at Fife, I fantasized that the Friends' relationship with the state DOT would result in the construction of a few new HOV lanes through that stretch of interstate.
That's Hylebos Only Vehicles, of course.
I'm sure 15 miles of carbon-sequestering lanes poured in semi-permeable concrete would fit into the state budget. I'd even pay a toll.

Either the bulk of the snow storm skipped Federal Way or the persistent spring weather had melted most of the pretty white stuff by the time I parked my car in the new 348th Street lot.
A few patches remained in the shadows, but the new season had successfully fought off one last charge of winter.
Cold mornings and sunshine make great ingredients for bird activity, and this Thursday at the Hylebos was no exception.
Robins sang endlessly, red-winged blackbirds engaged in their ritualistic strutting and shouting bravado, and a flock of wigeon that had spent the night on Marlake Pond during their northern migration took flight as I rounded the corner of the apple orchard. A symphony.

A pair of bushtits fluttered and chirped about as they plucked the moss from the apple tree branches. The tiny birds flew over to a pile of cleared debris left by one of the Friends' recent invasive species removal projects. One of the downed branches the team had piled up contained an abandoned robin's nest, and I watched as the bushtits recycled the materials one beak-ful at a time.
Together, the male and female sewed a mesh-like sack of moss and twigs that will house their young in the next few months.
I stood and admired the bushtits' resourcefulness as they utilized the robin's effort in gathering those thousands of pieces of nesting material.
This must be the bushtit equivalent of the stumbling upon the world's best rummage sale, I thought to myself.

Within an hour the snow had completely melted and the dark, saturated clouds of spring rain blocked the light of the sun.
I reached in my jacket pocket, relieved to find a pair of gloves and a knit cap I somehow managed to pack in my haste to head out the door.
Raindrops began to fall on my camera gear, then hail, then snow, and I decided to pack it up for the day.
I barely made it back to my vehicle before the skies opened and soaked everything.
As generous as spring seems, I often find it equally unforgiving.

Seth Bynum has added an album of 18 images from his Hylebos outing on his website.

If you haven't taken the time to visit the new boardwalk, there's no better time than now. It's spectacular. The new planks are sturdy and wide, and they don't get nearly as slippery when they're wet.
Though I have to admit that my favorite part about the boardwalk is that it's finished and I can return - camera in hand - to the park after a six-month hiatus.
While I yearn for warm spring days while we seem perpetually stuck in February and early March, this time of the year does offer its share of rewards to those who venture outdoors with a rain jacket and gloves.
Salmonberries pop off their first buds, the broad, green leaves of skunk cabbage begin to push forth through the saturated soil.
Resident birds like robins, Steller's jays and song sparrows began their mating courtship, offering us melodic morning songs in between heated battles for masculine dominance.
I took part of the morning off on March 5 and headed out to the park to take advantage of a rare clear morning.
Frost covered the leaves in the shady areas near the parking lot. Not far from the start of the boardwalk, I saw the first pink salmonberry bloom of the season.
Overhead, brown creepers communicated in song while a pileated woodpecker provided a rhythmic accompaniment against a hollow tree.
When I completed the loop, I visited Marlake Pond to see what species of birds I could locate.
With the camera, I could spot goldfinches in their drab winter colors, pine siskins, ruby-crowned kinglets, Steller's jays, bush tits, rufous hummingbirds and a red-breasted sapsucker. On the water, mallards, buffleheads, ring-neck ducks, shovelers and hooded mergansers dabbled about.
A yellow-rumped warbler fluttered briefly above the cattails and disappeared into the tall cedars.
I watched as a robin hunted for food in the dewy grass around the pond.
The bird seemed to lower its ear to the ground to listen for its prey, before thrusting its beak into the wet soil and retreiving a worm.
In the tree above, a Steller's jay preened its feathers and dried its wet body in the sunlight. I observed the bird grab a mouthful of feathers and clean them by running its beak from the base to the bright blue tips.
It reminded me of the way you or I would clean off a dough-filled mixing spoon by running a finger across its surface and dumping the batter back into the bowl.
I must be hungry.

Seth Bynum has uploaded an album containing 58 photos from the Hylebos at SethBynum.com