Superstar Culture Can Be Hazardous To Lesser Critters

Superstars besiege us where ever we go.

Apparently we like this obsession with celebrities.

The pity is in what we miss.

Julia Roberts, Michael Jordan, and Jewel sizzle in the spotlight while legions of talented stars and athletes go unnoticed.

We scan one of those magazine covers featuring the nation’s most attractive people while strangers pass by who are every bit as handsome.

It was bothersome two years ago to read headline after headline about Ryan Leaf when everyone knows Wazzu wouldn’t have made the Rose Bowl without hard-nosed linemen, a crushing defense and swift, sure-handed receivers.

The superstar mentality also slops into our concept of nature, sometimes with insidious consequences.

The timber industry created a superstar out of a single tree species by hacking down the natural competition in much of far Eastern Washington and North Idaho and replanting hillsides with virtual monocultures of Douglas fir.

One of the big losers in that profit-based decision was the white-headed woodpecker, which had adapted to the former mix of white pine, ponderosa pine and Western larch.

The white-headed was the predominant woodpecker in the Coeur d’Alene and St. Joe river areas 50 years ago. Now it’s rare.

The loss hasn’t been a headline item because the woodpecker wasn’t a celebrity.

The Army Corps of Engineers, on the other hand, felt the weight of public pressure when its contractors hacked down cottonwoods along the formerly shadowy St. Joe River to prevent failure of levees protecting the town of St. Maries.

Numerous creatures found habitat requirements in those cottonwoods. But little would have come from the slaughter if it hadn’t been for the bald eagles, superstars of the bird world, which used the trees for perching.

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service will require the Corps to replace the losses with artificial perches and other mitigation for eagles.

The importance of the cottonwoods to wood ducks, great blue herons and a critter cast of thousands was meaningless in the discussions.

Our fascination with the bald eagle is perplexing in itself.

Hundreds of people drive to Lake Coeur d’Alene’s Wolf Lodge Bay in December and January to watch the annual congregation of migrating eagles.

The spectacle might be the only birding story TV news stations do all year long.

This is scary only because many of these eagle watchers don’t realize the fascinating bird activity that might be as close as their own back yard.

“Juncos are delightful,” said Susan Weller, a birder in Cataldo, Idaho. “I’ve had 60 juncos at a time going nuts trying to get to the mix of peanut butter and cornmeal I spread onto the bark of a pine tree in my yard.”

Weller spreads the mix high on the tree trunk for some species, but low on the trunk for the ground-feeding juncos.

“They have a Geiger counter call,” she said. “In fact, they make lots of intriguing sounds you’d never imagine until you take the time to sit quietly and observe them.”

Long after most of the eagles have left Wolf Lodge Bay, people with an interest that goes beyond the superstars can find hours of entertainment learning the peculiarities of various supporting actors.

The brown creeper, for instance, is a tiny bird that stands out for its habit of flying to the base of a tree and working its way up in the hunt for bugs.

Nuthatches are more inclined to work their way down.

My personal backyard favorite is the chickadee, with a call that cheers the most dour sour puss, and an energy level that leaves an observer in awe. If chickadees weighed 5 pounds, they would rule the world.

I don’t mean to infer that birds shouldn’t get headlines.

More power to the business community in Othello, Wash., for promoting the viewing of sandhill cranes as they migrate through the Columbia National Wildlife Refuge each fall and spring.

Traveling in flocks of up to 200, the cranes are noisy and flamboyant and a worthy feature attraction. The shame is that so many viewers will go to the refuge wearing blinders.

White pelicans, great egrets, long-billed curlews and other cool birds will be in the same area starting sometime in March.

Smaller birds are equally impressive. In April, one can pause by a wetland area to hear the snipe roller-coastering through the sky in its courtship flight.

The sound is a crescendoing version of the “whoob-whoob-whoob” call made famous by Curly of The Three Stooges.

Comparing the snipe to Curly gives us another insight into our obsession with celebrities.

One was a superstar, but the other is still giving live performances.

You can contact Rich Landers by voice mail at 459-5577, extension 5508.