Most people who live in Oregon live in the Willamete Valley, which runs north and south along (not coincidentally) Interstate 5.
Portland marks its northern end; at the south it peters out around Cottage Grove. In the mid valley, around Salem and Albany and Corvallis, the land is flat and fertile farmland.
The valley used to produce a lot of hops, as in the Woody Guthrie song. Now it’s grass seed.
Here’s some more stuff about the valley:
“Over the course of Amanda Snyder’s long career during the early- and mid-20th century, the noted Oregon painter channeled a variety of stylistic currents. For example, colorful, impressionistic scenes imbued with darker, more abstract qualities can be found in her work….”
Wild turkeys have a reputation among hunters as a wary, elusive bird, difficult to stalk and hunt. These hunters haven’t seen the wild turkeys of Oregon’s Willamette Valley.
Stocked by Oregon’s Department of Fish and Wildlife since 1975, these Rio Grande turkeys have become an affable resident in some rural and even suburban neighborhoods, a pest in others. They occasionally frighten small children and challenge passing cars, especially when hormones run rampant in the spring.
But they’re great fun to have around. One year we had a hen who had detached herself from the local flock — perhaps she was banished for some turkey sin? — who hung out under our bird feeders one whole summer. We watched one evening as a coyote (could his name have been Wile E?) tried to stalk her through our orchard and past our back porch until, losing patience with Wile E’s game, she gracefully flew up and roosted in a fir tree.
This time of year the local turkeys have lots of babies. This poult flew up into a tree today when we, too, got a little too close for comfort.
