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About The daily Astorian. (Astoria, Or.) 1961-current | View Entire Issue (Dec. 31, 2015)
GRAB BAG book shelf • glimpse • wildlife • pop culture • words • q&a • food • fun Cygnus buccinator Trumpeter swan By LYNETTE RAE McADAMS Photo by Matt Love Crab was nestled in a bowl over ice at the Triangle Tavern, ready for anyone who wanted it. A G LIMPSE I NSIDE An occasional feature by MATT LOVE The Triangle Tavern “I can’t eat crab,” said the man standing at the bar of the Tri- angle Tavern in Astoria. “I ain’t got no teeth.” Yes, that posed a serious problem for the man considering the tavern lacked the proper crab breaking tools to crack open the shells. Good teeth were compulsory to get at the meat. At that very moment, the University of Oregon was laying a first-half licking on Oregon State in the Civil War, and the crab, caught and cooked up by a regular, nestled in a gleaming silver bowl near the pool table, next to the leftovers from the Thanks- giving Day potluck. The crab rested on ice and was ready to be devoured by any throwback hominid who didn’t require tools. This is precisely why every evolved person who enters a dive tavern on the Oregon Coast should carry a Leatherman. You nev- er know when fresh crab might show up. I’m not joking. I had just cracked open a succulent crab leg with my hands and teeth and juice exploded all over my face. It was such a preposterous occurrence in an Oregon tavern that I couldn’t stop laughing. I didn’t have a napkin handy so I just cleaned up with a little beer. The crab was beyond delicious, and I knew I wanted a sec- ond helping, possibly a third. Crab can do that to a man. I want- ed it all to myself and was, in fact, the only one eating it. As I watched the toothless, crabless man at the bar, an altru- istic thought occurred to me: Maybe I should go out to the truck and scare up some tools to assist the crab breaking operation. Oregon scored again. I heard the tinkle of a winning video poker hand behind me. Sunlight streaked through the blinds. I tasted my craft malt liquor. I ate another bite of crab. No, I de- cided, I wasn’t getting up from my comfortable stool. Altruism was dead. The man would just have to suffer. I noticed some movement behind the bar. Tamree, the bar- tender, went into a utility closet and emerged a few seconds later. “I’ve got pliers and a hammer if anyone needs them,” she said. She set the tools on the table and drifted away to serve a customer. The toothless man started walking toward the crab. Matt Love is the author/editor of 14 books about Oregon. His books are available through coastal bookstores or his web site, nestuccaspitpress.com One of only three spe- cies of wild swans in North America and the largest wa- terfowl in existence today, the trumpeter swan, named for its bugle-like call, is found across all of Canada, throughout the northern reaches of the U.S., and as far west as the Bering Sea. At full maturity, this bird can reach an overall length of 6 feet, with a 10-foot wingspan and a weight of 35 pounds. Despite its enor- mous size, it is more than capable of flight, and its motion in the air and on the water is practically synony- mous with grace. With snow white plum- age offset by the beauty of a solid black bill, this bird is entirely striking. Visually, males and females are identical, though if seen together, they can be distinguished by size — in some cases, males, called cobs, are twice as large as females, called pens. Baby swans, more offi- cially known as cygnets, hatch with light gray feath- ers and pink legs, but gain their white plumage after about a year. They remain with their parents (who mate for life) throughout the first winter, returning with them to their na- tal breeding grounds in spring, at which point the adults drive them away in order to start a fresh brood. Cast out by their love-struck parents, sibling swans often shelter togeth- er until it’s time to seek mates of their own, usually two or three years later. Throughout the last half of the 19th century, trum- peter swans were hunted nearly to extinction, though not for meat: Highly prized in Victorian fashion, their magnificent feathers were used in women’s hats, and their plucked skins were marketed as powder puffs. By 1933 it was presumed that only 70 swans re- mained in existence, but a discovery in the 1950s revealed an unknown bevy of more than 1,000 swans taking refuge near Alaska’s Copper River. Though still considered threatened, thanks to ardent conserva- tion measures, the con- tinent’s population now numbers nearly 50,000. Seventy percent of all trumpeters breed and Submitted photo Known as one of the crown jewels of a healthy wetland, trumpter swans can be found on or near the waters of the Willapa National Wildlife Refuge and at Black Lake in Ilwaco, Washington. nest in Alaska, then winter in the Pacific Northwest, including here along our coastline. 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