Spring in Shevlin Park

Shevlin Park in fall. Photo: Mike Putnam

My dog used to drag me around to different trails all over Central Oregon so she could smell new things while I plodded along on my weekly runs. But my pup passed away last year, so this spring I've been running over and over in only one place: Shevlin Park.

I think of Shevlin as Bend's version of Portland's Forest Park. It's nowhere near as large as Forest Park, but for a close-in natural area with plenty of trails, gorgeous views, and diverse flora and fauna, it's tough to beat.

On one run early this spring, I heard a branch break up on the eastern ridge, and when I stopped to look, I spied a female elk. She gave me maybe 10 seconds of her attention before returning to her climb. What a beauty she was!

In early May I was jogging along thinking of my mom (gone, like my dog), when I stumbled across a couple does. When I stopped, one doe stotted off in alarm, but the other held still not 20 feet from the trail, looking at me with her mule-sized ears raised. When I started to walk away, assuming she'd do the same in the other direction, she instead held still and swiveled her head to keep watching me with those big doe eyes. No, I don't think she was my mom reincarnate, but a few tears fell anyway.

On my most recent run at Shevlin, I heard my first Olive-sided Flycatcher of the season ("Quick, three beers!"), which made me laugh as it always does. (And, no, I do not know how those birds form the "th" sound; they just do.) I also heard the sweet song of a Black-headed Grosbeak right beside the trail and saw a beautiful, salmon-breasted Lewis's Woodpecker.

If you've read this far, let me tell you one more thing about those experiences at Shevlin: Right after I spied that elk on the ridge, I saw a runner coming toward me, and I was going to tell her about the beauty right across the creek from us. Only she (the runner, not the elk) had earbuds in and didn't even look at me. Same thing happened when I saw those does.

On another run, a walker was playing their music out loud (not even on headphones), so I couldn't hear the birds and other nature sounds at all.

Now, I too have gone for runs while inserting sound via everything from Walkman headphones (fuzzy!) to Earpods (expensive!), and I've talked on my cellphone while hiking many times — so I'm not casting aspersions ... much. What I can tell you is that I do those sorts of things far, far less often now because I know more about the plants and animals around me — and I want to see and hear them.

Take it from me: The sounds and sights you can experience by tuning into nature are far more varied and unexpected than the ones you're likely to encounter on any device. Especially in spring and especially at Shevlin Park.