By Nan Evans

The tide is out. It’s time to explore. Walk towards the low tide water
level on any shoreline, and there are wondrous things to see. As you
explore, you will notice that the biological communities change from
the high tide level down to the lowest levels. Marine scientists call
this “intertidal zonation.”  Ecologists group the zones into the
Splash, High Intertidal, Middle Intertidal, and Low Intertidal Zones.

Zonation is a complex result of substrate, tidal levels, predator-prey
interactions, and competition for space. Specifics differ between
rocky shores, sandy beaches, mud flats, a pillar under a pier, or
boulders strewn amongst sand and cobbles, but you will always see
changes in plant and animal communities.

At the highest levels, life is hard – too hot in the summer, too cold
in the winter, too dry most of the time, and too much fresh rainwater.
Isolated tidepools can become both too hot and too salty when exposed
to the sun for many hours. In the Salish Sea, the Splash Zone ranges
from about +7 to +9 feet above mean lower low water (which is “0” feet
in a tide table). Here we see only a few hardy species but often huge
numbers of individuals. You will find several lichen species. The
green algae sea lettuce (Ulva) makes its first appearance. A few land
plants that can tolerate the salt exposure may also be present. This
is the zone of barnacles – the small little brown barnacle and the
acorn barnacle. Look closely in cracks and crevices, and you might be
able to spot a few small marine snails and limpets. These hardy
animals feed only when briefly submerged. When the tide is out, they
basically close down tight to keep moisture inside their bodies –
clamping those barnacle plates together, or pulling into a snail shell
to shut the door (operculum), or just contracting those muscles that
allow a limpet to adhere tightly to the rock face. All of these
animals must have the ability to tolerate increasing levels of their
own biological waste products as the hours go by before they are
submerged again and are flushed by sea water.

Below this uppermost horizon, we encounter the High Intertidal Zone
that is submerged only during the highest tide levels. Life is
marginally easier in this zone, but its residents are still exposed to
the equivalent of a total of 145 to 70 total days of dryness over a
period of 6 months. The High Intertidal Zone in our area ranges from
about +7 feet to +4 feet above the mean lower low level. We see more
diverse life here. Consult a field guide; the number of species
explodes too much to describe briefly. Lots of algal species: brown,
green, and red. The brown algae Rockweed (Fucus) stands out on the
rocks. In addition to barnacles, there are more species of snails
(including carnivorous and algae-eating species) and limpets. Look
into small tidepools or under a few rocks (please replace them very
carefully!) to find hairy hermit crabs and the dark green and black
tidepool sculpin.

Lower still, we find the ecological communities of the Middle
Intertidal. Communities here are submerged and exposed for more equal
periods of time. This is the area from about +4 feet down to 0 feet
(the mean lower low tidal level). Life really explodes here – crabs,
sea stars, more snail species, goose neck and blue mussels, chitons,
sea stars, and sea anemones. Curiously, the animals of this area are
rarely seen subtidally. They truly are residents of the in-between
world – part terrestrial and part marine.

At last we enter the Low Intertidal Zone, which is exposed only during
the lowest tide levels. This is the realm of those marine creatures
who have adapted physiologically and/or behaviorally to survive some
amount of time exposed to air. We see the largest variety of species
in the Salish Sea in the Low Intertidal Zone, 0 to about -3.5 feet.
Some of the species also occur subtidally. Interestingly, although
there are many more different plants and animals, we do not see the
high numbers of individuals of the same species we saw in the upper
levels. Life for a marine creature is easier here, but then
competition for space and food is more intense as well.

Surfgrass and eelgrass (both flowering plants), plus vast numbers of
species of algae or seaweeds, are found here.  Abundant animal life
includes species of sponges, hydroids, anemones, flatworms, round
worms, segmented worms, sea stars, brittle stars, sea urchins, sea
cucumbers, brachiopods, snails, limpets, bivalve mollusks, chitons,
nudibranchs, shrimp, crabs, octopuses, clingfishes, sculpins,
pricklebacks, and gunnels – to name just a few!

If we use our intertidal visit well, we will explore all the different
zones, probably spending the most time at the lowest levels. But we
must be careful, the tide turns and comes back in quickly, and we may
have only a short time to get back to land before all these
communities return to the sea.

By Dave Rugh

Pinnipeds, literally webbed feet, are our neighbors that spend much of
their lives in marine waters. Most have been increasing in abundance
since 1972, thanks to the Marine Mammal Protection Act. However,
concerns about salmon declines – linked to declines in southern
resident orca – have sparked debate about culling seals and sea lions
because they eat so many salmon.

Steller sea lions, also known as northern sea lions, range across the
North Pacific. There are more than 60,000 on the eastern side of the
Pacific Ocean. The photo here shows a couple dozen crowding Craven
Rock east of Marrowstone Island. More than 250,000 California sea
lions are found along most of the western coast of North America.
Adult males are notable for their protruding crest, giving their heads
a high, domed appearance. Wendy’s photo shows a sea lion breaking
apart a salmon.

Harbor seals in the Salish Sea are one of the most concentrated
populations in the world, and this is the most common of marine mammal
species, with over 10,000 locally. This photo shows a haulout on
Protection Island.

Northern Elephant Seals almost went extinct by 1910 due to
over-hunting, but they’ve made an amazing comeback and are now doing
well from Alaska to Baja California, with an estimated 150,000
individuals. Recently, local birthings have been noted on Race Rocks,
Whidbey Island, and Protection Island. The photo shown here is of a
young elephant seal lacking the long proboscis so characteristic of
the adults and for which these seals got their name. These are the
largest seals in North America.

By Oma Landstra

Spring has burst into full abundance, and the native plants are gorgeous.  Trillium ovatum, a NW native that blooms usually from March through June is showing off along the trails in Jefferson County. They can be seen at Anderson Lake, Gibbs Lake, Ft. Flagler, and other wooded environments around us here. 

Trillium ovatum’s common names are “Western Trillium” and “Wake Robin.” The flowers awaken simultaneously to the Robins beginning to sing and becoming active in the woodlands.  Trillium are the “Harbinger of Spring.” They are perennials and grow from rhizomes. The flowers have six stamens and three stigmas. They are very long-lived in the dense, wet woodlands.  As the pure white flowers age and after pollination, they alter in color from white to burgundy or pink. Known as “spring ephemeral,” after blooming Trillium become dormant. Indigenous tribes used the juice of the Trillium plant as a remedy for boils, as a poultice, and for sore eyes. 

I advise you to consult a local trail map and to go out and explore the many beautiful spring flowers of this wonderful home place that we all share.

By Ken Wilson

Nearly all living things— trees, moles, humans— contain clocks attuned to daylength. This length of day is one substantial cue stimulating migration in birds. Yet at our latitude, today is only a few minutes longer than yesterday, implying a very fine-tuned clock. And while multitudes of songbirds are now departing northward from the tropics, at their departure latitude the change in daylength is even less –only 30 seconds a day. Clearly, other cues must also be programmed into their biological clocks. 

One species pictured here is a Western Tanager at my backyard suet feeder. He is a one-year old. (Next year he’ll have sharper colors). As summer days shorten, his clock combined with his fantastic navigational systems, guide him to southern Mexico or Central America.The bird knew when and where to stop his southerly flightpath, even though this is his first migratory flight. The Tanager’s clock somehow dictated when to initiate his flight north to the Olympic Peninsula to breed, despite the near-constant daylength in southern latitudes. This individual has now flown a round trip distance of 3,000 miles. He hasn’t starved or flown into a window or been caught by a cat or a hawk. If he makes it another year, that would be another 3,000 miles. Like clockwork, at the end of April you will see the arrival of our Tanagers. And much more…

And when shall you look and listen for the arrival of these ‘neotropical’ birds, which make up more than half of our summer birdlife? Their arrival peaks towards the end of April through the first week or two of May. Birdsong will be everywhere. So, people – set your alarms for dawn!