A Cry in the Distance

Observer: Estella Yee
Date: 10-06
Location: Northwest of Waller Hall
Time: 1116-1131
Weather: Overcast, no rain yet, 57˚F

A sharp penetrating cry halted me in my tracks. I scanned the area in front of Eaton only to discover a western scrub jay jumping onto the rails and issuing a cry, but not the same I heard only moments before. The cry sounded repeatedly and seemed to alternate between the scrub jay’s call and its own. Where did it originate? I looked up to find horse chestnut trees dancing in the gentle zephyr yet no creature appeared. Was it creature or bird? I passing professor noticed my perplexities and offered an answer that it was calling to warn others of possible danger in the area. “A bird?” “No, a squirrel.” So that was why it sounded so much like the barking I heard on several occasions; I just did not relate the two sounds. I didn’t think the danger came from man, for I would have heard it on a daily basis. There were no hawks flying in the upper atmosphere. Still perplexed, I decided to watch the dead tree (it was actually dying, according to Professor Dave) for more hummingbirds that I had noticed earlier this morning courting with quick, high-pitched chirps. Instead, I found a shrub about 10-foot tall with ovate dark green leaves. They were arranged radially around cluster of small buds about ¼ inches long. The unopened buds smelled fragrant and sweet, yet several flowers that had bloomed earlier were hanging dead and dried, trumpet shaped. The bark was auburn, slightly peeling and streaked with silver. The leaves turned red and pink, creating a beautiful contrast with the dark verdant green. Behind the shrub was a block of marble or granite that denoted the founding of Willamette.