A Secluded Forest Home in Port Orford, Oregon
In late May 2010, I began an extended visit to Port Orford, Oregon.
My mission was to finish cleaning and preparing my mother’s former home
and property for rental. Although Port Orford straddles U.S. Highway
101 in Southern Oregon, it is remote from any sizable population
centers.
Seventy miles north are the twin cities of Coos Bay and North Bend, Oregon. With a combined population of under thirty-thousand, full services are available there. Eighty miles south of Port Orford is Crescent City, California.
With a population of less than eight thousand, it has full services,
but with a small-town feel. Other population centers on the Southern
Oregon Coast include Bandon By The Sea, Gold Beach and Brookings, each with fewer people than Crescent City.
Interstate Highway I-5
is the nearest Interstate Highway to Port Orford. It runs north and
south through the interior of the state. From Port Orford to I-5 in Grants Pass, Oregon is one hundred sixty-five miles. From Port Orford to Eugene, Oregon is one hundred sixty-seven miles. Reaching either road connection to I-5 takes over three hours.
Because of its remoteness, I planned to stay in Port
Orford until I finished packing, cleaning, staging and preparing for
rental of the 1900 sq. ft. home and its 1.72-acres of mixed coastal
forest. Deferred maintenance on the property and my mother’s preference
for natural surroundings meant that I had work to do, both inside and
outside the house.
While at the property a month earlier, I had rehabilitated the driveway
with a new coating of gravel. Since the driveway is almost one hundred
yards long, I strove to keep the “country road” look, conserving a strip
of moss and grasses down the middle. Upon my return, it was time to see
if rainfall had sustained my greenery. Had any grass filled-in where I
had raked gravel off its delicate bed?
By August 2009, Port Orford running total for annual
rainfall was forty-seven inches. Early this May, the running total for
2010 had exceeded seventy-seven inches. With daily rain throughout much
of April and May, grass had sprouted from the composted-encrusted seeds I
had sewn on the driveway only a month before. At the house-end of the
driveway, the grass between the two tracks was tall enough to clip.
When entering Oregon via U.S. 101 North, Brookings
is the first town that you encounter in Oregon. Brookings likes to tout
itself as being in the heart of the "Oregon banana belt”,
claiming that it has warmer temperatures in the winter than other towns
along the Southern Oregon coast. Locals in Port Orford would scoff at
anyone who claims that Port Orford is part of any banana belt. Although
there is more than enough rain to grow bananas, in April and May, local
temperatures often hover near 50 f. In order to enjoy the Port Orford
climate, one must enjoy intermittent or sustained periods of cool, damp
weather.
Black-tailed Deer thrive throughout the mixed
coastal forest and wooded lots of the Port Orford Cedar Terrace Tract.
If one is driving near sunrise or sunset, it is wise to proceed slowly
up or down 18th Street,
which is the entrance to Cedar Terrace from town. As the road leaves
the City of Port Orford, the two-lane road changes names to Vista Drive.
In midday and all night, it is rare to spot a deer in the area, but in
the early morning and late afternoon, the woods seem almost alive with
deer.
Often grazing in herds of five to ten, Black-tailed
Deer graze on almost any new, green growth, including poison oak. Only
plants that have a distinct gray cast are out of favor for nibbling. One
morning, I opened my front door to find a herd of four females, led by a
single buck. Since it was early in the growing season, the buck’s
antlers remained short and covered with soft tissue. Rarely staying in
one place for more than a minute or two, this herd disappeared into the
extensive network of deer trails that crisscross the wilds of our front
yard.
In addition to well-worn deer trails, there are many Black Bear
trails in the woods, as well. Because of their propensity for hiding in
heavy undergrowth, one can easily locate bear trails in the woods.
Where the undergrowth is the thickest, they will use their bodies to
clear neatly trimmed "tunnels" in the foliage. Such passageways are
about four feet wide and three feet high, which give you a good idea of
how large a bear is while walking on all four feet. To follow one of
these trails, if one were foolish enough to do so, would require
crouching down and clamoring head-down through a blind alley. I wondered
what would happen if I had entered one of these “bear tunnels” from one
end and a bear entered it from the other.
Speaking of bears is all that we can do here, since
sightings are rare in Port Orford. Still, the bear-shaped passageways
all over the area hints strongly at their presence. Wednesday nights are
the favorite time for bears to visit the Cedar Terrace Tract. That
evening, trash containers stand along the roads, seemingly ready for the
pickings. Early each Thursday morning, Curry Transfer & Recycling
trucks pick up whatever the bears left inside the containers. Only a
strong splash of ammonia inside of the trash bin will keep bears from
dragging any fragrant trash bags into the forest for further inspection.
In
order to further enjoy the solitude of a nighttime walk in the forest, I
carried no flashlight . In the dark, I made my way by the feel of my
shoes on the gravel of the driveway. With no moon to light my path, only
the feel of hard or soft material beneath my feet kept me on course. I
thought, "If I cross paths with a bear, he will likely be more afraid of
me than I am of him".One Wednesday evening, I took a nighttime stroll down the long driveway. I walked from the house to
The
next morning, I noticed something askew in the open-top waste bin that
sat near the driveway. Overnight, someone or something had tipped a
heavy futon cushion upright in the bin. Now, most of its length stood
above the side of the bin. Upon closer inspection, I could see several
large, muddy paw prints
on the fabric of the futon. Claw marks extended out from each print. It
was then that I realized that overnight, a bear had visited my front
yard. While sniffing out a small garbage bag, the bear had used one
mighty fore paw to lift the fifty-pound cushion.
Soon, I found two of my small garbage bags torn
open, their contents strewn around in a clearing behind the waste bin.
Having found nothing there to eat, the bear deposited a scatological calling card and then departed. Had the bear watched me walk the up and down the driveway the previous night? I 
consoled
myself by thinking that bears only come out in the dead of night, when
nothing is stirring. Either way, that is the last time I shall walk the
driveway at night, under a New Moon, and without a flashlight.
Over the years, my mother and my stepfather had
added on to their house three or four times. Starting as a rectangular
box, including a one-car garage, it blossomed into a 1900 sq. ft. home.
Now there are three wings in the front, plus an attached two-car garage
and shop. Inside, I painted both bathrooms and did touch-up painting
everywhere else. On hands and knees, I cleaned away any carpet stains. I
cleaned the kitchen as if it were my own, spending over two hours on
the oven alone.
After many days of cleaning, packing and organizing
the contents of the house, I rested one morning inside my travel
trailer. From my vantage point inside my coach, I saw a lone
Black-tailed Deer grazing voraciously on the far side of the front yard.
Not straying far, she quickly trimmed any adjacent foliage. From the
quiet security of my coach, I shot some pictures of her activities.
Soon, she moved off-camera to my left, but then
returned to the clearing. As I watched in astonishment, a newborn fawn
followed her out of the forest. Opening my door, I shot several more
pictures of the doe and her young 
fawn.
Tiny, with a trembling gait, the fawn appeared to be only days old.
Waiting for the fawn to find and follow her, mother led child out into
the clearing, and then back towards the forest. As I continued shooting
pictures, the fawn stooped beneath its mother and nursed.
After nursing, mother and child moved toward the
side yard, which affords greater protection from prying eyes. Still
hungry, the fawn dutifully followed its mother. As quickly as I could
watch and perceive, the bonding between mother and child was complete. A
few minutes later, I spied the doe, standing still in the forest
foliage. Likewise, she watched me from the 
shelter of her forest redoubt.
Reflecting on that amazing scene, I wondered if our
front yard was the birthplace of the fawn. During the thirty years that a
house has stood on that lot, there were never any dogs or other known
predators on the property. With my mother's quiet lifestyle, the deer
and the bears had their run of a forest lot comprising over 1.5 acres.
Since this was their shared home for so long, deer appeared to be
comfortable birthing, nursing and grazing all over the property.
As I departed Port Orford in June, 2010, only the ten-cubic yard waste 
bin
remained as proof that I had done so much work. Within the hour before
my departure, a large truck backed down the driveway and then hauled the
bin away. I was ready to leave and the house was ready for a lucky new
owner to come and enjoy life in the forests of Cedar Hollow Terrace. Two years later, in July 2012 the property sold to a lucky new owner.
Email James McGillis
