Cover photo courtesy of Adam Gebauer

Picture a stand of large ponderosa trees with thick black and red puzzled bark, spaced far apart so their canopies don’t touch, grasses growing in the understory with a few sparse shrubs and saplings. This is the type of habitat that is shaped by frequent, low-intensity fire. There are no ladder fuels or an accumulation of wood on the forest floor to carry fire up into the crowns of trees. This type of forest is the goal of many prescribed burns in our dry east side ponderosa pine forests. 

Fire has shaped the landscapes of Eastern Washington, as it has with many of the landscapes across North America. Some studies have estimated that 60% of North America historically experienced regular fire intervals. Prairie fires prevented trees from encroaching and returned nutrients to the soil. Fires in western forests opened up the canopy to create meadows and propagate new trees, reduced the number of trees per acre and allowed grasses to grow in the understory. But different landscapes have evolved with different fire return intervals that are affected by climate, elevation, aspect and the plant species present. Subalpine forests would see fires every 300 to 400 years, whereas ponderosa pine forests had fires every 1 to 125 years. 

Unfortunately, fire suppression has been occurring in North America for almost 200 years, from outlawing tribal members from conducting cultural burning to federal policies that have focused largely on suppression. But, along with naturally occurring fire from lightning, people have been using fire to manipulate their environment for tens of thousands of years. Tribes in the region would burn meadows to increase camas yields or reduce tree cover in huckleberry patches. These manipulated fires would improve forage for large game and open up sight lines to improve hunting. Fires were also used for ceremonial practices and tribes had a close community connection to this tool. 

The lack of fire has altered many landscapes and therefore habitat for wildlife. In mid-elevation forests in the Inland Northwest, there is a lack of open forest conditions that support the aspen and grasslands preferred by grizzly bears, ungulates and wolves. Fires produce snags that support white-headed woodpeckers. They reduce thatch, the dead grass and pine needles, creating a connection with seeds and the soil. Ponderosa pines prefer to germinate on mineral soil and areas where the sun gets to the forest floor. Species like lodgepole pine have serotinous cones, meaning they only open to release their seeds when exposed to heat from a forest fire. 

Prescribed fire, the carefully planned and intentionally implemented practice of lighting fire, can help these landscapes accept naturally occurring, low-intensity fire. Other benefits of prescribed fires include wildfire hazard reduction, controlling competing vegetation, thinning and release of crop trees, disease control, site preparation, increasing the quantity and quality of forage for livestock grazing and managing and improving wildlife habitat. 

The first time you get to wield a drip torch or dig a containment line, you come to understand all the planning and experience that is needed to execute a prescribed burn. When you return to the site the next season, you can see the regeneration of seedlings and grasses and the hoof prints of deer and moose moving through the area. Many prescribed and cultural burns can be events that bring the community together to put good fire back on the landscape. 

Adam is gearing up for ski season by trying to stay uninjured. He has several backcountry ski trips planned to the far north and far east. 

The post Why Prescribed Burns Matter: The Role of Good Fire in Healthy Forests appeared first on Out There Venture.

Cover photo courtesy of WDFW

This past spring I got to accompany a wolf biologist as he was attempting to collar a wolf in a pack in Northeast Washington. This pack already had a collared pack member, but that collar was malfunctioning, so using the data already collected he set forth to capture another wolf in the pack. During our windshield time we got to swapping stories of wildlife work, backcountry trip leading, and I got to pepper the bio with questions about working with a species of wildlife that—perhaps more than any other in North America—raises the hackles of some and is elevated above all by others. I came to realize that when working with such a contentious, elusive, complex, and endearing species, one must perfect a kind of art along with knowing the science. 

Know Thy Wolf 

To be an effective wildlife biologist, you must know the habits of the animals you study. Wolves are highly social animals that are wary of people. They can range widely in a day, and, if a wolf is a disperser (not associated with a pack), they can travel miles looking for another pack or a mate. In Washington, the average pack size is 4.4 with territories of around 257.7 square miles, but pack size and territories change over time. Washington’s wolves also can and do disperse outside the state. In 2024, seven wolves made their way to British Columbia and Idaho. Biologists use a lot of this information to determine where the animals’ denning and rendezvous sites are. These are the areas where the wolves will return to frequently, and, if there are pups about, they will be bringing food back. These are also great places to set camera traps and areas to try to trap wolves to attach a tracking collar.  

To understand wolf populations, biologists look at multi-year trends and use winter pack surveys, known dispersals, tribal hunting reports, poaching reports, natural deaths (from other wolves or cougars), and add a conservative percentage to account for unknown individuals. Up until last year, there has been an average of 20 percent increase in the wolf populations. Pup survival averages just 25 percent. This is in part why population surveys are done in winter, counting pups that survived from the spring and are likely to become adults. At this time, poaching of wolves dispersing to Washington’s Southern Cascades is the main limiting factor keeping pack establishment in that recovery zone and delaying delisting of wolves from the state endangered species list. 

Tracking and Trapping 

How do you know you are looking at a wolf track? Wolves have big feet—3 ½ to 4 inches. There are some livestock guardian dogs that can have similarly-sized feet, but typically wolf tracks are much larger than your average pet dog. Wolves travel long distances, and they do it efficiently. Their tracks are straight and rarely deviate. Dogs, on the other hand, will zigzag, sniff, and mark anything and everything. Stride length is the last sign that can help determine if it is a dog or a wolf. A wolf will have a stride of 24 to 38 inches when walking. That stride can be up to 6 to 8 feet when running. Accounting for stride length, pad size, and a straight track, a seasoned tracker can be confident in identification. 

The innate behavior of wolves determines how you can trap them. They will not cross a road to investigate a scent. They will take the insides of a corner, because that is the most efficient path. Wolves try to be quiet roaming the woods, so they won’t step on sticks when investigating a scent. All of these considerations must be taken into account for success when setting traps for research and monitoring. 

Wolf Medicine in the Field 

A wolf biologist also needs to know the baseline vitals for these animals. Wild animals generally run hotter than their domestic counterparts, and, when humans are handling them, they can become very stressed. The wolf we worked with had a pulse oxygen monitor attached to its tongue and regular temperatures were taken. Often the tranquilizer drugs used have multiple effects, including lowering heart rate and changing blood pressure.  

There have been a variety of different medications used on wildlife to immobilize them over the years. Some of these are controlled substances and have the potential for abuse (think ketamine). States also have different laws on how these drugs are stored, administered and licensed. When I was knocking out porcupines in New Mexico early in my career, a licensed vet had to administer the drugs. A wolf biologist has to know the correct dosage, how to load the needle or dart, and where to administer it.  

Talking Wolves to People 

Finally, a wolf biologist, along with others that work with large predators, needs to be diplomatic when they work with the public. Ranchers work on thin margins and care for the well-being of their animals—more so than just their financial worth—so any additional impacts can create emotional reactions. Similarly, on the other end of the wolf love-hate spectrum, there are those who think wolves have more importance in the ecosystem than any other species. Their notion of wildness and their resemblance to our family dogs can elicit strong feelings from others. It is hard to have a nuanced conversation about wolves on the landscape, because the opposing sides are so loud, but that is precisely a wolf biologist’s job. 

There may seem to be many glamorous aspects of being a wolf biologist—handling large predators, cruising the woods looking for tracks and hanging out of helicopters for winter surveys. But there is also the building of nuanced knowledge that can take years, and the ability to navigate the political and emotional nature of working with predators and the public. 

Adam Gebauer is excited to get back on his bike as the weather cools. He also is totally, absolutely sure he will do some training for ski season this year. 

The post The Art of Being a Wolf Biologist: Science, Patience, and Empathy in Washington’s Wolf Country appeared first on Out There Venture.

Cover photo courtesy of Adam Gebauer

I have come to understand myself to be a bit of a social introvert. It takes me a tick to be comfortable in new social situations, to be able to open up, and to find my voice. But back in my 20s I figured out a hack to jump-start connections, a place where I have a voice of confidence—public lands. These vast, open lands allow many of those embedded self-preservation traits to slip away in the vistas, instead focusing on the tasks at hand and sharing awe with others. 

My early experiences camping as a family, backpacking in Boy Scouts and just exploring the public lands near my hometown in New Jersey were way more engaging than school or hanging out at the mall. So, in my 20s, I ventured to the Southwest to work as a wilderness trip leader. This experience taught me that I was a quiet leader, someone who enjoys sharing excitement and knowledge on everything from how it takes years to create biocrust on the desert floor to demonstrating how to rappel down a sheer sandstone cliff. I found I could create a safe and accepting place where participants could push their comfort zones while also being reflective about the environment that surrounds them. It also helps that being a goofy presence is generally rewarded in camp settings. 

Parts of leading trips on public lands are akin to being a tour guide, one of those people who seem to effortlessly walk backward while also being a skilled public speaker. These experiences unearthed an unknown skill for me: I can be an effective and engaging public speaker. This has led to continued experiences as an educator, where I get to take people out onto public lands where they can get a sense of stewardship and belonging. This also helps me to speak up in technical meetings and when working with landowners, knowing that I have knowledge and authority on a topic. 

Gaining enough outdoor experience through our public lands to climb in the alpine, paddle some whitewater, and be comfortable in uncomfortable situations of bugs, rain, or just the side of a cliff, has given me a shortcut to making friends and creating community. The ability to say yes to a myriad of outdoor adventures has given me an avenue to an amazing network of like-minded individuals. Several days out in the wild under a blanket of stars can open up deep, personal conversations that otherwise could take years of knowing. This has led to a community of outdoor enthusiasts that spans the country and usually provides more outdoor adventure opportunities than I have time for. 

Finally, the love for our public lands has led to my career as the public lands program director at Spokane-based The Lands Council. Digging deep into ecology and wildlife, a care for people who work in and with the lands, and passion to protect and advocate for our public lands evolved into a job where I get to advocate for what I love. 

Adam Gebauer is the Nature columnist at Out There Venture. He is excited to get back on his bike as the weather cools. 

The post How Public Lands Inspire Leadership and Community in the Great Outdoors appeared first on Out There Venture.

Cover photo by Fiona Hicks courtesy of the Kanisku Land Trust

When a colleague mentioned seeing a small herd of exotic animals going up Highway 20 near the Sherman Creek Wildlife Area in Northeast Washington, I had to see where this story led. My colleague had grown up in this part of the state and worked for several natural resource agencies, so I listen when something sticks out as unusual—like seeing a few camels, a yak, and some goats with a minimally clad herder heading up the highway. 

I started making phone calls and sending emails to any connection I could make. Did anyone have information on this nomadic herder? I started with the WDFW at Sherman Creek Wildlife Area, but the staff I talked to hadn’t heard these stories of a few camels walking by. Then I asked the Colville National Forest. They had no direct knowledge of this person and his flock. But I did learn that recreational grazing is allowed on National Forest as long as there are no negative impacts. 

I got wind of a landowner in the Rice area who might have something, including a name, Chris. Chris had overwintered with his herd on a neighbor’s property, trading work around the property for housing his stock and himself, presumably. The neighbor reported that Chris frequently and seasonally moved his animals from the Okanogan to Northeast Oregon. I started looking for news from other forests. One fateful day, I was talking with another colleague on an entirely unrelated topic and heard about an organization that focuses on natural living, bush craft, and other close-to-the-land skills. On their website, I saw an instructor bio for Chris who taught about mixed herd management, but not too much more. Did I finally have a last name?  

Yes, I did! Another Google search and there it was, an article about Chris grazing his animals for the Kaniksu Land Trust right in Sandpoint. Chris was using his animals to graze the weeds at the popular trail system, Pine Street Woods. These animals are reducing weeds and putting back some fertilizer, all without using herbicides. 

Grazing on public can be a hot topic in the conservation world. Many of our public lands, particularly the Forest Service and BLM, are managed for multiple use and allow commercial grazing under the Taylor Grazing Act in 1934. This act broke grazing into allotments and uses a permit system to manage livestock grazing. This substantially reduced the impacts of grazing, but cattle and sheep can still have an impact on the landscape. 

In certain areas, these hooved animals can impact water quality and stream habitats. Their feces can add E. coli and other bacteria, affecting drinking water supply. They congregate along streams and water sources, mowing vegetation and trampling the shoreline. This adds to increased erosion and sedimentation in the streams affecting fish habitat. Protecting water sources with fencing and hardened crossing along with moving livestock regularly can reduce these impacts. 

Grazing can also come into conflict with predator reintroduction and management. Large predators play a key role in ecosystems: maintaining populations levels, increasing biodiversity, and helping to shape habitats. Although there are management practices that can reduce predation, it is still an economic impact to a business with tight margins. 

In many parts of the West, public land grazing helps economically support rural livelihoods, which maintains undeveloped private ranch lands—key wildlife habitat and movement corridors—from being developed. 

Virtual fencing technology is further improving range management. Think of an invisible dog fence for cows. Several members of the herd wear collars, ranchers use special cell towers and an app to draw fence boundaries. Is there a known wolf den? Keep the cows out. Want to knock down cheat grass or mow a fire break? Congregate the cows to mob graze at the optimal time to knock the vegetation down.  

This trail didn’t lead where I thought. Chris does not have much internet presence and probably likes it that way. He certainly lives an interesting life moving his small exotic herd throughout the region to improve habitat. However, this path did give me a chance to review both the support and opposition to grazing on public lands. 

This summer, Adam is on the hunt for large old trees in the region. He will try to keep up with his running into the hot weather to help with some long hikes planned. 

The post The Trail of the Nomadic Herder  appeared first on Out There Venture.

Cover photo courtesy of Adam Gebauer

When I tell people I’m going shed hunting there is a pretty good chance I get a quizzical look. “Like a Home Depot run for a tool shed?” No, I am referring to a woodsy treasure hunt. When I say shed hunting, I mean looking for those boney bits that deer, elk, and moose grow each year and then discard, or shed: their antlers.  

I was definitely one of those kids that came home with pockets full of nature’s treasures, but I started really shed hunting as a byproduct of my job and recreational pursuits. Wandering around the woods in early spring as the snow recedes from the landscape I would spy the white tine of an antler among the forest floor. After this happened a few times, my eyes started to cue in, paying more attention to the ground and taking note as to where I was actually finding these little (sometimes big) forest treasures. 

Antlers are bone protrusions from the skulls in mostly male animals in the Cervidae family—deer, elk and moose in our region. They are the fastest-growing mammalian bone. They are technically different from horns (although many people use them interchangeably). Horns grow throughout the animal’s life and have only two parts: bone and a keratin cover (keratin is what makes up your fingernails). Antlers are grown seasonally to be fully mature for the fall breeding season. They consist of bone, cartilage, blood vessels, and are covered by a velvet skin that carries blood and oxygen to these fast-growing bones. As antlers mature, they lose their velvet cover, which cuts off the blood flow. This allows them to shed their antlers throughout the winter and early spring.

  

There is a tremendous amount of energy needed to grow these antlers every year. Their size can be a sign of a mature animal, metabolic fitness, and food gathering ability. They are used as visual sexual attractant, in combat with competing males, and defense from predators including off leash dogs. 

Part of the appeal for many shed hunters is paying attention to where animals are moving and spending time—overgrown forest roads, fence lines, game trails, or dense stream-side habitat that would knock off an antler. There are many shed hunters who spend a lot of time planning and preparing for shed season. They train their dogs, glass areas with their binoculars, and track animal movements. It has gotten so popular that some states have instituted seasonal closures. These regulations are to protect wintering feeding habitat in times when food sources are scarce.  

I am more of an incidental shed hunter, but over the seasons of slowly wandering off trail I have acquired a good collection of deer and elk antler, not to mention skulls, feathers and other forest booty. But finding a moose antler, known as a paddle because of its shape, had been a goal for a long time. I have walked miles and miles of timber harvests as part of my job, no moose paddle. I traipsed around wetlands and moosey habitat, swamping my boots, but didn’t find a moose paddle. Last year, however, my luck changed as I was out collecting morels after a burn. I was heading back to my truck along a grown over forest road along a creek that had escaped the burn. While climbing over and ducking under countless trees, there it was, the forest treasure that I had been seeking.  

As with all my time out in the woods, I try to be aware that I am a visitor in someone else’s home. I don’t pick up every shed I find. They no doubt play a more important role on the forest floor (cycling nutrients for one) than on my mantle.  

As the snow starts to melt, Adam Gebauer will be out looking for those shed antlers on the trail as he trains for a foolhardy half marathon. He is also looking forward to some equally foolhardy spring skiing. 

The post Shed Hunting  appeared first on Out There Venture.

Twenty-plus years ago, I was a seasonal wildlife biologist, conducting surveys to threatened species in proposed timber harvest units. Many national forest districts rely on seasonal staff, as I was, to conduct fish and cultural resource surveys, mend fences and maintain the vast road networks that wind to some of our favorite places.  

This year, the U.S. Forest Service is facing a half billion-dollar budget cut from their requested amount. This will likely have a large impact on us, the user groups. To adjust to this financial shortfall, the Forest Service has announced that it will not hire, other than firefighter workforce, any temporary season staff for 2025. Although it isn’t yet clear how many positions this will affect, in 2024 the Forest Service had more than 2,500 seasonal temporary job spots. 

Many of these positions are the ones that interact with the public the most. Think of the seasonal trail crews that clear miles of trail each season, the recreation staff that make sure that campgrounds are clean and vault toilets are sanitary, and the climbing and backcountry rangers that patrol some of the most scenic areas (e.g. making sure the Enchantments are not being loved to death). These positions are also key to gaining experience and building the workforce of the forest service, and many are worried that without these positions the agency will lose the next generation of employees.  

The forest service is taking actions to address this budget issue. Across the country, they have converted nearly 1,300 non-fire temporary (known as 1039 hires) employees to permanent status. The agency will maintain its 11,300-strong fire fighting force too. But there are concerns on agency related blogs and newsletters that this is signaling an agency-wide reduction in work force. Adding to that concern is the unknowns with the incoming administration and the Department of Government Efficiency.  

We may be less affected regionally than other areas. Tribes in the region are working on lending a hand and having more engagement on their ancestral lands. Both the Colville Confederated Tribes and Kalispel Tribe have a Tribal Forest Protection Act (TFPA) agreement with the Colville National Forest. The Kalispel finalized an agreement that will increase the capacity to do a variety of work with the Pend Oreille watershed of the Colville. A focus of many of these potential projects will be aquatic and forest restoration. These TFPA’s bring increased capacity by utilizing tribal biologists, foresters, and engineers to complete projects on forest service property.  

Regional national forests have also been working to address the staffing issue. The Idaho Panhandle National Forest was able to convert 18 temporary, seasonal positions to full-time. The Colville National Forest hired 45 non-fire temporary employees in 2024, and they were able to convert 21 of those positions to full-time. As was reported in the last issue of this magazine, programs like the Idaho Panhandle Avalanche Center have grown robust enough and have a close partnership with its NGO arm to not feel the financial hit to their program. Both of these forests already rely on the NGO partners to do a lot of their trail maintenance, including the Washington Trails Association, Backcountry Horseman, Evergreen East, Idaho Trails association, and other organizations. 

Other forests might not be so lucky to have a strong volunteer base, so it might be time to grab a shovel and lend a hand. 

Adam Gebauer will be hitting the skin track as often as possible and trying to train for his second half marathon this spring. 

The post Forest Service Budget Cut  appeared first on Out There Venture.

By Adam Gebauer  

Perhaps no other tree represents the Pacific Northwest more than the Douglas Fir, Pseudotsuga menziesii, not to throw any shade to our beloved Ponderosa pine (more on that later). Doug fir, also known as red fir, is the dominant tree in many low- to mid-elevation forests. It is the most economically important tree across the Pacific Northwest and yields more timber than any other tree. It is used for dimensional lumber, plywood, and veneers, as well as in Christmas tree plantations. It is also the most replanted tree in industrial timber lands across the region. It can grow in the moist, coastal mountains to dry, east-side forests and can tolerate shade to full sun.  

When I first started wandering around the towering trees of the PNW forests, I remember learning a few key things about these trees. One, its name is confusing; it is not a true fir; and its scientific name, Pseudotsuga, means false hemlock. Its common name, Douglas fir, comes from the naturalist David Douglas, who brought the tree from Europe fostering Doug fir plantations. It also has distinguishing cones that appear like a mouse has crawled between the scales with only its tail and feet sticking out. There are tribal stories of a mouse fleeing a fire and finding refuge in the cones. 

There are two varieties of Doug fir. The coastal Douglas fir ranges from costal British Columbia as far south as Yosemite and grows faster and bigger than the Rocky Mountain variety. The latter variety spans all the way to the Mexico border, becoming less frequent with lower latitudes. Because of its timber value, it has spread to many corners of the world, including New Zealand, Chile, Argentina and Europe. 

In parts of its range Doug firs are suffering from the effects of climate change, as increased drought has led to outbreaks of beetle die off. In parts of southwestern Oregon, for example, there has been a massive increase in Doug fir die off with an estimated 260,000 trees killed on nearly 150,000 acres from 2016 to 2019. This was more trees in a four-year period than in the previous four decades. 

Although larger, older Doug fir are relatively tolerant to low and moderate fires due to their developed deep-furrowed bark, it can take up to 100 years to develop these characteristics. Doug fir is fairly shade tolerant, meaning it can grow under shade, and in general shade tolerant species are less fire tolerant. Ponderosa pine and western larch are shade intolerant and many land managers in eastern Washington are shifting tree stands to these more drought- and fire-tolerant species.  

Ponderosa pine and larch have several other adaptations that make them particularly tolerant to fire. Where deep soils allow —unlike on Spokane’s South Hill—they grow deep tap roots. They have thick buds that can withstand heat. These trees are self-pruning, dropping branches that don’t receive a lot of sunlight, which helps them reduce ladder fuels—protecting the crowns from catching fire. Both species also have airy canopies that can disperse heat rather than trapping it like the dense canopy of Doug fir.  

Douglas firs will still be a large part of the forests of the Pacific Northwest, but climate change will alter where some of our tree species will thrive and where others will suffer from drought, insects, and disease outbreaks. On the coast, these mighty trees still can grow to over 300 feet and throughout their range grow deep, furrowed red bark that will impress those traversing amongst their trunks. 

Recently Adam Gebauer has been working with some regional folks on prescribed fire training. He is thinking hard about doing squats before ski season.  

The post The Douglas Fir   appeared first on Out There Venture.

I recently finished two desert float trips where I was amazed by the amount of chukars laughing at my fly-fishing skills from the foreboding cliffs and scrub. It got me thinking of the variety of upland game birds that we have in the Inland Northwest region. Chukar partridges might seem like they are native to the dry steppe, adapted to these scraggy reaches of Eastern Washington, but, like many of the upland game birds in Washington, they were imported to this region. 

Most commonly referred to as upland game birds, these birds offer more than just an opportunity to put meat on your table. They are all members of the order Galliformes, which are a diverse selection of birds, including partridge, grouse, quail, pheasant, turkeys and even chickens. These heavy-bodied, ground-feeding birds are important seed dispersers as well as both predators and prey. A variety of species from this order have been domesticated across the globe to provide important protein sources from eggs and meat. 

Hungarian partridges, also called Huns or gray partridges, are closely related to chukars. Like chukars, they made their appearance from different continents. Huns were originally imported from Hungary, while chukars came from Asia and Southern Europe. Chukars have distinctive red legs and a black band across their eyes that becomes a chevron on their chest. Flocks of them will make a distinctive chuckling sound from their steep, imposing roosts. Huns are less abundant and showcase a gray body with a rust-colored head. The largest populations of both species can be found along the steep slopes and rolling hills of the Snake River. 

Ring-necked pheasants are the most brightly colored galliforms running the wheat lands of Eastern Washington. These birds first made it to North America in 1881 via Washington, having been shipped to Port Angeles from China. They traveled down the coast and were released in Oregon along the Columbia River valley. Due to the rough travel, it took several introductions for these birds to flourish. The males sport a spectacular iridescent green head and both male and females have a long-pointed tail that can be over half the bird’s length.  

California or valley quail are perhaps the most gregarious galliforms in Washington, traveling in large, chattery, seemingly directionally-confused flocks. These birds didn’t travel far to reach Washington; their native range spans from Oregon to the Baja Peninsula. They now can be found into Canada, Hawaii, and much of the West. They have a distinctive curved feather that bobs on the top of their head. The West is also home to the larger mountain quail with its chestnut sides and white bars on its lower chest. 

It might seem like turkeys have always roamed the streets of Spokane’s South Hill or been calling in the forests of the Colville, but they too have been introduced to Washington. In the 1960s, wild turkeys were trapped in Arizona, New Mexico, and Wyoming and brought to eastern and southwestern Washington. This was part of a nationwide effort to increase turkey populations after over hunting greatly reduced their numbers. Introduction efforts ramped up in the ‘80s, and they now occupy every suitable habitat in the state. 

It is difficult to find any studies looking at the impacts of these non-native birds on habitats. I have, however, heard griping from more than one wildlife biologist on the overly successful introduction of turkeys, citing their impact on native forest grouse populations – reducing food sources and eating eggs of these ground nesters. WDFW also reports the sharp increase in nuisance calls, from turkeys aggressively stopping traffic to impacting local crops. 

Opposed to the above species, all six of Washington’s grouse species are native. They are separated into four forest and two sage-steppe species. The forest grouse include rough grouse of the lower elevations, spruce in the higher elevations, and the westside sooty and the eastside dusky grouse occupying mid evaluation forests. These species all exist in healthy enough population to allow hunting seasons and bag limits.  

Due to habitat loss, fragmentation, and degradation from fire, our two species that occur in the sage-steppe, the Columbia sharp-tailed and greater sage grouse, are both on the endangered species list. WDFW is working to bolster the Washington population by bring in birds from Canada. Grouse species engage in elaborate mating displays, presenting colored feathers and inflating bright air sacs, while sage-steppe species also perform intricate dancing displays.  

The wild galliforms of Washington— native and introduced — are a diverse group of birds that occupy a variety of habitats. The habit of many of these birds to hold their position until you are almost on top of them before they explode out of the grass or brush continues to make my heart jump. It is always a treat to watch their quirky habits and listen for their distinctive calls, even in the flock of turkey descending on my yard in Spokane’s West Central neighborhood. 

Adam Gebauer is much more likely to see any of these birds while on a trail run than with a shotgun in hand. He will be keeping an eye and ear out for spruce grouse while he spends some time on the PCT this fall. 

The post Upland Game Birds  appeared first on Out There Venture.

By Adam Gebauer 

When I was asked to write about the progress the five tribal nations of the Upper Columbia have made over the last 20 years in supporting fish, wildlife, and forests in this region, I knew it was going to be a daunting task. For well over a decade now, I have been working alongside the natural resource departments of these tribes on small subsets of these issues and have seen firsthand the vast breadth and depth of projects that each tribe has tackled. Their projects range from work to rehabilitate land directly on their reservation, working within their traditional territories (including Canada), to working collaboratively to restore salmon across their historic range.  

Over the last 20 years, these tribes have bolstered their natural resource programs and created plans to support habitat protection on their reservations. The Spokane Tribe, for example, has a land management plan that supports wildlife habitat, including designating areas for restoration, areas of no timber harvest, and places to limit development. They have also set water quality standards accepted by the EPA to maintain fishable, drinkable, and swimmable levels in all water leaving and entering the reservation.   

A goal of the 12 tribes of the Colville Reservation is to reintroduce the full subset of wildlife species that existed before western colonization. This is not only to allow these species to fulfill their ecological niche but also to provide tribal members opportunities for subsistence hunting. Along with the Yakama Nation, the Colville has introduced pronghorn to shrub steppe habitat. These populations have moved off the respective reservations and are breeding and occupying habitat throughout Central Washington. The Colville also reintroduced big horn sheep, are working to establish a breeding population of lynx along the Kettle Crest, and have recently released wood bison onto the reservation.  

The Couer d’Alene Tribe has taken a lead role in the management of Lake Coeur d’Alene.  Along with water quality issues, they have showed proof of concept that invasive northern pike suppression leads to increased trout populations. They have acquired land for habitat protection and restoration, including purchasing and/or trade of around 15 miles of the headwaters of Hangman Creek. Recently, the tribe purchased land in Spokane along Hangman where they plan to have a rearing area for chinook salmon. 

The Kootenai Tribe on the Idaho Panhandle are working to restore 55 miles of riparian habitat along the Kootenai River system. They have been working to increase populations of endangered Kootenai white sturgeon and burbot, a popular sport fish. In 2017, they built a hatchery that supports both fish—the first burbot hatchery in the nation—and in January 2019 burbot fishing opportunities were open to the public.  

The Kalispel Tribe has acquired and is working to restore an additional 5,000 acres of wildlife habitat and has restored the hydrologic floodplain processes to 3,000 acres within their traditional lands of the Pend Oreille waterways. They are working with the managing agencies for three dams along the Pend Oreille River — Boundary, Box, and Albeni Falls — to install fish passage. Two of these projects are in place and the Albeni project will be under bid in 2025. They are also working with different agencies including Seattle City Light, Pend Oreille County Public Utilities, the Colville National Forest, Trout Unlimited, and even The Lands Council (my employer) to restore habitat for the threatened bull trout and endemic cutthroat trout across the watershed. To bolster habitat for these fish, they installed a cold-water syphon at Sullivan Lake, which has lowered the temperature of Sullivan Creek by an average 6 degrees Celsius. They are also trying to replicate this to lower the temperature of Priest River.  

The Kootenai Tribe of Idaho and the Kalispel Tribe have a small land mass, so as much as they work on their reservation lands, they also conduct much of their habitat work on public lands within their ancestral territory. Both tribes have been working with Canadian agencies, including the Arrow Lakes Society, to restore the Selkirk Mountain Caribou herd to its historic range into the Southern Selkirks. They are also active on the interagency grizzly bear recovery task force, trying to restore genetically viable populations of this key species to the Selkirk and Yaak recovery zones. 

Both the Colville and the Kalispel have leveraged the Tribal Forest Protection Act (TFPA) to conduct projects on the Colville National Forest. The Colville Tribe engaged in the Sanpoil project in Ferry County to reduce wildfire potential along the reservation boundary. The Kalispel was integral in the Trail Project, which spans six watersheds in Pend Oreille County and focuses on forest health, wildfire fuels reduction close to population centers, and improved recreation. Along with conducting prescribed burns on their forest land, the five nations are also reestablishing the practice of cultural burning, which, along with supporting forest health, can have specific objectives such as increasing huckleberry habitat or camas fields. 

One of the most culturally significant and biggest lifts is the reintroduction of salmon to their historic waterways in the upper Columbia River above Chief Joesph and Grand Coulee Dams. The nations, particularly the Coeur d’Alene, Spokane, and Colville, are in the second of three phases of a decades-long fight to bring salmon back. The current phase is studying the habitat suitability of the spring Chinook in their natal waters as well as the reservoir of Lake Roosevelt. Tribes are looking at the ability of these fish to spawn successfully in main stem and tributary waters.  The tribes have released adult fish into streams such as the Sanpoil, Little Spokane, Hangman, and the Spokane and have found that these fish have been able to create redds (fish nests) in the sand and gravel. Another part of the study is looking at movement and survival of juvenile fish within Lake Roosevelt and through the dams, to the ocean and hopefully back again. These young fish need cold, swift, oxygen-rich water to make it to the ocean, and the reservoirs behind the dams make this challenging. One of the key aspects of this project is determining ways to bring salmon back while maintaining the current hydroelectric operation of the Columbia and Spokane Rivers. 

This is only a small subset of all the work that these tribes have been able to accomplish in our region over the las 20 years.  They are the forefront of actions to make our landscapes more climate resilient, habitats healthier, and waters cleaner. As is often quoted in tribal culture, they are looking seven generations in the past and seven generations into the future. 

Adam Gebauer has been slipping and sliding in some local creeks while helping the Spokane Tribe collect data on trout and future salmon habitat. He is passing miles on the trails while enjoying the fall colors. 

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