It’s May! Yes! The prettiest time of year on the farm. So said my father when I told him one April day that April must be the prettiest with all its green and flowers. “No,” he said. “May is.” Not something I expected to hear from this reserved man. Well, now it’s May and I’m sure he was right. In honor of May I’d like to present a rollout of pictures of critters that share this farm with us, all these selected photos thanks to my son-in-law Robin Loznak, award-winning photographer, whose work can be seen in publications around the world. And here.
Robin specializes in wildlife photography. Here he is getting a close-up of a very tiny critter, a picture I took a few years ago for another post. That’s a part of his wildlife specialty–bees, elegant praying mantises, dragonflies, and more. They all shine in his photos.
He and my daughter Carisa live on the farm too so they’re able to enjoy the place founded by my great-great-grandmother Martha Maupin in 1868 and maintained by my father, Gene Fisher, for many years. Robin kindly lets me use his photos on my blog, whatever I need to illustrate a story.
Here are some of my favorite photos he’s taken of wildlife on the farm. Some are old favorites you may have seen before. Some were new to me.
You know what I heard? . . . Mm-m? I’m listening. Baby barn owlets perch in the old barn in a prune box placed there by Robin for a safe nest. Sharing stories? Maybe.Acorn woodpecker leaving its home in the gate post. Going out for dinner?Probably.Female Northern Harrier (Marsh Hawk) like one that swept over my shoulder one day and hovered in front of me before making a sharp turn to fly away.See the story here.Male Northern Harrier in aerobic flight like one that appeared while I was writing Martha’s story. A hawk like him is pictured in the book.Hummingbird on a wire watching lunch.Acrobatic kestrel coming in for a soft landing.Honeybee ready to sip from a blossom and spread pollen around.What did you say? See a poetic description of a mantis in “Portraits of a Century Farm” here. The Century Farm is a Sesquicentennial Farm now, but the collection was done before it was.Exquisite detail of beauty on the wing of this dragonfly.This bobcat may be the one we called Scamp when he became such a frequent visitor. Scampered right up to the house one day.You can’t see me, can you? My mama hid me and told me to stay right here.Better go now. Which way? Which way? Roosevelt elk making quick decisions.See another elk photo with poetry among the “Portraits” collection here.What is that looking at me, Mama? See another of the “Portraits” here for a poetic description of the encounter, “Making Scents.”Robin said he used an extreme telephoto lens to take this shot. I’m happy to report that no one, man or animal, was harmed in this photo shoot.Peeking out at you. Did you ever see a salamander so cute?
And with that, my friends, I close out our ode to May with some of my favorite Robin Loznak photos of wildlife on our farm. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed putting it together.
Thank you, Robin, for sharing your beautiful work.
Photo I took April 14 in 2018. I love the little white heart on the face of the nearest one.
April is usually the beginning month for calving here, although many farmers choose to calve earlier. The cows on our farm are gentle. They let you walk right through the herd, even when a cow is calving, although I keep an eye out for a nervous mama. They aren’t my cows. Ed and Mary Cooley rent pasture on the farm as they did when my dad was still here. But I get to enjoy the babies. I think these cows are gentle because Ed spends time with them, moving them from pasture to pasture, often daily. And in winter and early spring he adds hay to their pasture for feed.
The above picture by my son-in-law Robin appeared in my book A Place of Her Own, the story of my great-great-grandmother Martha Maupin who founded this farm in 1868, now a sesquicentennial farm. The picture illustrated a moment described in one of the Interludes in the book that told of my search for Martha’s story. My dad, Gene Fisher, farmed the place for 75 of those 150 years, more than any other owner in the family’s history. The fourth and last Interlude closes with the morning after he died.
The morning broke, bright and sunny. . . . We looked out the kitchen window to the apple tree across the nearby creek.A new black calf stood on wobbly legs beneath the tree, his mother gently licking his back. The first calf of the season had been born in the night. . . . I wished I could share with Martha the hope I found in this place and in the wonderful creatures who lived here with us. After the long dark night, there would be a bright new morning.
And new calves.
(The Globe Pequot Publishing Group, pp. 202-203)
The same little one as pictured at the top . . . with Mama watching. Or coming my way? Here’s looking at you.
A new story on the farm’s sesquicentennial status came out in the April edition of the Douglas Electric Company monthly magazine. April was the month my great-great-grandmother Martha Maupin purchased the family farm in 1868.
The story with photos: the book, me with the hills behind, me at five, and Martha’s house she had built for herself and her many children.
Craig Reed, local writer, visited the farm and talked with my daughter Carisa Cegavske and me before writing the cover story which got a nice spread, shown above. The farm would have qualified in 2018 but I didn’t put in the application until 2024.
Martha was the subject of my first published book, pictured in Craig’s story, A Place of Her Own: The Legacy of Oregon Pioneer Martha Poindexter Maupin, published by Globe Pequot Press. I didn’t have to write a book to qualify the farm for sesquicentennial status, but my research for the book certainly helped me put together the extensive information required for the application.
I grew up on this farm. The little girl curtseying in her overalls is me enjoying the freedom I experienced there. When my dad died in 2007 Carisa and her husband Robin Loznak decided to join me in keeping the farm. I had been away all my adult years so it was quite a change from city life I experienced in the interim. Their son Alex Loznak moved there with us, as well as my other daughter, Christiane Cegavske, and her child, Aspen Boutilier. Carisa, Robin and I still live there.
I love the farm’s hills for walking, and the quiet, where I find inspiration to write my books. My whole family loves the beauty of the land, the rich history, the wildlife. Christiane, Aspen and Alex visit as often as they can. That’s easier now for Christiane and Aspen, who lived in Kansas for ten years and now live in Portland, Oregon. Alex took a stint in New York City, then Eugene, Oregon, but he’s in Portland now too.
We all take pride that Martha was the founder of this farm, a woman who dared take on this treasure when it wasn’t all that easy for a woman to do.
With Martha’s Farm gaining Sesquicentennial status it’s making the front page news.
Drew Winkelmaier, reporter for The News-Review in Roseburg, Oregon, came out to the farm in Kellogg last week and put together a nice story for the Sunday edition.
That’s me on the porch, photo by Drew. We talked awhile then went down to the old barn that has stood on the property since the 1930s when my father bought the place from his great-uncle and had the barn built.
From there we visited the hazelnut orchards, our newest crop on the farm, which had been a prune farm since 1895 when Martha’s son Cap planted the first prune orchard.
With the prune market turning iffy and a burgeoning hazelnut market we began making the switch in 2011 when we planted our first hazelnut trees.
Drew’s story delves into the history from our discussion as well as information I had put together for the Oregon Century Farm and Ranch Program, much of it based on my research for the book I wrote about Martha, A Place of Her Own. When I took over the farm in 2008 I became another woman in the family to own the place and thought there might be a story in that. And yes, Martha had far more story than I ever imagined.
My family got together at the Oregon State Fair last Saturday, August 24, when fourteen farms were honored for Century status and two, including ours, for Sesquicentennial status. We received lovely certificates at the presentation when short narratives were read about each of the farms with photos on a screen above the stage.
After that we did what everybody does at the state fair. We visited the animals, including a competition among elegant horses in the historic horse barn. And the poultry and pigs and sheep and goats and cattle. Oh, and the beautiful family of huge black draft horses. Such magnificent creatures! And we saw exhibits of photography and artwork and ate too much fair food.
And on the way out we enjoyed strolling through the rides as the skies darkened and the lights came up.
The Martha A. Maupin Farm which I now own has been approved as a Sesquicentennial Farm, having been in the family for 150 years. In fact it reached the 150-year mark in 2018. Martha purchased the farm in 1868. But this year I finally went through the process of applying for the Sesquicentennial status through the Oregon Century Farm & Ranch Program.
The families approved this year will be honored at a ceremony at the Oregon State Fair this month on Saturday, August 24 at 11 am in the Columbia Hall on the staged area. Fourteen families have been approved for Century status and two for Sesquicentennial status for 2024. Photo highlights for each award winner will be presented at the ceremony with a desert reception afterward.
The photo above shows Martha and her family in their early years on the farm in front of the house she had built soon after her 1868 purchase. That’s Martha standing on the front porch, her eldest son Cap on the horse. Cap became part owner with his brother Tom when their mother sold it to them in 1886. Then Cap became sole owner when he bought his brother’s share in 1894. From Cap it went to my father Eugene Fisher, Cap’s great-nephew, and my mother Marian in 1934, then to my sister Nancy and I, and finally to me when I bought my sister’s share in 2008.
Part of the application involved finding the documents to verify all those transitions, which can be a challenge. I had obtained some documents, like Martha’s original purchase, when I researched my book about her, A Place of Her Own.
But I was missing some of the documents, which took me back to the Douglas County, Oregon, County Clerk’s office to find the missing links.
The application also required a two- or three-page narrative of family history, including the transfers from one generation to another. My research for the book helped on the early part of that history. Memory served on later events, but I had to scour some local histories and the newfound documents to bring in the middle. The local histories had also helped with my book research.
Martha’s place has been a Century Farm since the 1960s, and I have been pleased to know that this was one of the few Century Farms in Oregon named for a woman, which seemed especially sweet since I’m the second woman to be its sole owner. Now it’s an Oregon Sesquicentennial Farm named for a woman.
I do love history, so it was an intriguing process, and I have a clearer view now of the farm’s history.
The sample of Martha’s purchase document shows the flowery writing one has to pore through in order to glean what you want to know.
In addition to the legal documents and narrative, the application required maps, and requested photos. I also sent a copy of my book about Martha, which the Program Coordinator said they would be very happy to have.
I’m excited to honor my great-great-grandmother Martha for her historic achievement of founding this treasure when it wasn’t easy for a woman to do such a thing.
Below are a couple of photos from the farm, our new hazelnut orchard and the old 1930s barn that still stands on the hillside, looking down to the river bottom. For more on those hazelnuts, see the story here.
I was taking my daily walk on a beautiful sunny afternoon, trekking uphill past the farm’s upper barn to the broad field above. As I occasionally do on the uphill climb I stopped for a breath and turned around to observe the panorama below me and to enjoy the glorious perspective that widens with each step in elevation–the forested mountain range in ranks from dark-green to blue, the verdant middle plain, the nearer skeletal oaks.
With startling suddenness the huge hawk came up behind me and swooped over my left shoulder and down the road in front, maybe three or four feet off the ground, shimmery rich-brown wings spread. Soundless. Hovered not six feet away. No sign of fear, though she had to know I was there. The moment felt long, time suspended. As I watched in awe, she made a sharp right turn and flew out over the green slope beside me, the bright-white clump of feathers on her rump clearly identifying her as a Northern Harrier. The brown wings and back suggest she was probably a female. She seemed to float above the grass, tilting this way and that, then turned again and soared downhill out of sight.
I caught my breath in wonder.
I later checked online, curious about the size of it, and learned that a Northern Harrier has a wingspan between 38 and 48 inches. And they range from 16 to 20 inches long. That’s one big bird! Not as big as an eagle, true, which may have a 6- to 8-foot wingspan, but you seldom see these grand creatures hovering right in front of you offering the full impact of their presence. Harriers are distinctive in the way they hunt low to the ground with upswept wings and are known for their aerial dances in the sky.
The place
Readers who have followed my work may recall my intrigue with the white hawks that seemed to be harbingers of good news from time to time, beginning about ten years ago with the one that swept in front of my office window, then flew low above the road as if leading my grandchild and me up the hill. Leading where, we didn’t know, but it felt quite magical. A hawk like him would appear one day when my son-in-law Robin had his camera handy, just in time to be added to pictures in my book A Place of Her Own.
Some of the Northern Harrier males that visit our property are white on the underside with the black wing tips and pale ashen backs, like the one below that Robin photographed more recently. When they fly they appear quite white. The females can be mistaken for juveniles, which are also brown on backs and wings, but females have whitish undersides with brown streaks like the one in the top photo, while juveniles have buffy undersides without the streaks. These birds were formerly called Marsh Hawks. My thanks to Robin for all these hawk photos.
Daffodils are budding out and it’s still January! Temperature outside my Oregon home hit mid-60s by noon. See the swelling buds? Are these signs of an early spring? I’ve been needing spring. I hope it is.
This row of daffodils always blooms before the others near my house. Every year I look to them for a sign of hope that winter is passing and spring will soon come.
Of course in January we know winter can still throw plenty at us. Daffodils will be okay. They’re tougher than they look. They can take whatever weather they meet. We’ll be okay too, though we need these little signs of hope. Some sooner, some later.
Last year they were so late. Remember my daffodil saga last year when these only started to bud out on a snowy March day? Then the delight when the first bloom finally appeared? I’ve been feeling winter this year. Some years it just seems long whether it is or not. In any case I am definitely ready for an early spring.
I took the closeup this morning, the other late this afternoon. Thank you, little daffodil buds, for a boost of hope today.
Remember these little guys? Remember their story, how they were started on Martha and Garrett Maupin’s Donation Land Claim in Lane County to be planted here on Martha’s farm in Douglas County? The story is here. I was working on my great-great-grandmother Martha’s story, A Place of Her Own*, at the time and was sure surprised to find that link.
Well, look at us now (below). These trees are producing nuts that are headed to market.
We have a nice coop in our area, the Northwest Hazelnut Company/George Packing Company, Inc. They bring us bins, we fill them, they take them away for processing.
Here my son-in-law Robin Loznak checks out our first bin as we wait for the truck to come pick up our bins. He and my daughter Carisa partner with me on this project. He does most of the work now–mowing and harvesting–although on this first seven acres I spent several summers watering those babies by hand with multiple hoses. I almost knew them by name. I did that until they got too big for me to reach over them and drag the hoses across to the next row. At that point Robin took over the watering with a big water tank drawn by the tractor. He put in the next orchard, 15 acres, and installed a water system for that. This first orchard has dug deep roots by now.
Robin carefully eyes the bin while Troy Mueller from the Northwest Hazelnut /George Packing Company guides him in. The farm’s old 1933 vintage barn can be seen in the background of this photo and the one above it.
A few tidbits for the curious: Oregon grows 99 percent of all the hazelnuts produced in America. Turkey and Italy are the only countries that grow more than we do. Turkey grows by far the most at about 70 percent worldwide. This may be one reason hazelnut farmers are so welcome in the state. Every Oregon hazelnut farmer adds to the state’s market share. Besides just being helpful, friendly people.
Oh, and for people who are wondering. A filbert is just a hazelnut by a different name.
*A Place of Her Own: The Legacy of Oregon Pioneer Martha Poindexter Maupin portrays the story of my remarkable great-great-grandmother who came west over the Oregon Trail. I grew up on this farm Martha bought more than 150 years ago. I’m now the second woman to own and operate this family treasure. I would never have done it without the help of my kids.
The new little prune-plum orchard came into bloom, heralding spring on the farm. About a month late, given the late spring we’re having in western Oregon. We just went from frosty mornings to summery afternoons. With warm sunny days now the fruit should set well. It’ll be interesting to see. My kids and I planted this small orchard below the hazelnuts soon after we moved to the farm.
In my other life, my writing life, the new book blooms too. The rough draft’s complete. Beta readers reading. I can’t seem to leave it alone. I think of a change I want to make in one of the scenes. I fix that. Read a little farther because–well the words are on the screen right in front of me. The next thing I know an hour has passed, or two, and I have read many more pages. The story has captured me. I’m immersed in the world of my characters in faraway lands, deep in the past, caught in their overwhelming dilemmas. The joys. The sorrows. The anger. The triumphs. I believe that bodes well.
Feedback is good so far. Some constructive critiquing and suggesting. But overall positive.
I still need to do several more straight-through readings myself for fine tuning, once the initial revisions are made.
And so we reach the climax of the glacial saga of the enduring golden daffodils on their reluctance to face a chilly approach to spring. Yet they must. Hope reigns after all.
Below, these curious critters look on, perhaps wondering why in the world I would be down on my knees before a flower, not knowing they have become witnesses to a camera’s capture as well as minor characters in the story.
Now, confident in my flowers, I am ready to charge forward with that other saga, my new book. I’m reaching back to ancient Ireland again where a young woman, an Irish goldsmith, takes a perilous journey in search of a forbidden secret held by the Saltlanders, a people who would one day be called the Celts.
