A D V E R T I S E M E N T
Starting in August, hundreds of great egrets converge to feed on fish in the marshy hunting grounds of Smith and Bybee Wetlands Natural Area.
SARAH TOOR / PAMPLIN MEDIA GROUP
ADVERTISEMENTS
In one of Oregon’s surest signs that summer is on the wane, great egrets have returned to North Portland’s Smith and Bybee Wetlands Natural Area to feed in the receding, sun-warmed waters.
“One day they won’t be there, and then the next day you’ll see dozens of them, even hundreds,” says James Davis, a naturalist who works for Metro, which manages Smith and Bybee.
The egrets usually arrive in August and spend the fall months standing tall in the shallow pools, their stoic stillness punctuated by lethal lunges at fish and amphibians. With their snow-white plumage and long yellow bills, they make a vivid counterpoint to their cousins, the familiar great blue herons.
The egrets’ path to Portland remains something of a mystery, but the trip is thought to begin — and end — at their breeding grounds in California.
When breeding season ends, the birds spread out in search of marshy hunting grounds. Smith and Bybee is one of their earliest arrival sites in this region.
“They spend a few months eating the fish that get stranded in the shallow water — it’s a feeding frenzy,” Davis says. “And then, bit by bit, they disappear.”
The egrets’ annual visit testifies to the health of their population — and of the wetlands that nurture them. Both the great egret and Smith and Bybee have seen far worse days.
At the beginning of the 20th century, plume hunters prized great egrets for their aigrettes, the flamboyant plumes that grow on males’ backs during the breeding season. The hunters sold the feathers to milliners, who worked overtime to meet the relentless demand for oversize, gaudy hats bedecked with feathers and flowers.
“In Oregon, populations of great egrets were absolutely decimated by plume hunters,” says Bob Sallinger, conservation director for the Portland Audubon Society.
The National Audubon Society was established in part to stop the killings and took the great egret as its emblem to emphasize its mission. Thanks in large part to the society’s efforts, Congress passed the Migratory Bird Treaty Act in 1918.
For great egrets, the act literally was a lifesaver: Over the years of unregulated hunting, the birds had lost 95 percent of their population.
Today, Sallinger says, great egrets have “made an amazing comeback.”
It’s a recovery on vivid display at Smith and Bybee, which has returned to its natural wetland state after decades of human-caused degradation. Sprawling over nearly 2,000 acres in the heart of North Portland’s industrial peninsula, Smith and Bybee is now the country’s largest protected urban wetland.
For millennia, the area flooded in the winter and dried up in the summer, providing a dynamic environment for plants and animals adapted to the extremes. But when nearby dams, fills and dikes led to year-round flooded conditions at Smith and Bybee, many native plants went into hiding, and some migratory birds canceled their layovers.
It took technology and public will to restore the balance. In 2003, Metro used voter-approved funds to install a water control structure between Smith Lake and Bybee Lake that allows Metro to mimic the wetlands’ natural cycle. Now the lakes once again swell in the winter and recede in the summer months.
The fish that become stranded in the shrinking pools are easy pickings for egrets, osprey, bald eagles and the occasional American white pelican.
With the re-creation of Smith and Bybee’s natural conditions, plants such as wapato and bulrush sprouted and bloomed for the first time in decades.
“There’s a whole community of plants called edge, or transition plants,” explains Metro’s Davis, who leads regular nature walks at Smith and Bybee. “Their seeds can stay in the mud for years, and if the water draws down, they’ll sprout.”
1 | 2 Next Page >>
Find a paper
Enter a street name
or a 5 digit zip code
Browse archive
The Oregon City News
Sustainable feed
