HAMILTON, N.J. (AP) — With giant inflatable whales, signs that read “Drilling Is Killing,” and chants of “Where’s our meeting?,” opponents of President Donald Trump’s plan to open most of the nation’s coastline to oil and natural gas drilling have held boisterous rallies before public meetings held by the federal government on the topic.

That’s because the public cannot speak to the assembled attendees at the meetings. The U.S. Bureau of Ocean Energy Management is meeting one-on-one with interested parties, and allows people to comment online, including typing comments on laptops the agency provides. People can also hand BOEM officials written comments to be included in the record.

What they can’t do is get up at a microphone and address the room. That has led drilling opponents on both coasts to hold their own meetings before the official ones begin. The latest will take place Wednesday in Hamilton, New Jersey, just outside the state capitol of Trenton.

“They’re dodging democracy,” said Cindy Zipf, executive director of New Jersey’s Clean Ocean Action environmental group, which will hold a “citizens’ hearing” before the BOEM one begins. “The government works for the people. I understand it’s uncomfortable to have a bad idea and be held accountable for it, but that’s what they’re proposing.”

Trump’s decision last month to open most of the nation’s coast to oil and gas drilling horrified environmentalists, and many elected officials from both parties oppose it. But energy groups and some business organizations support it as a way to become less dependent on foreign energy. An Interior Department official quoted on the BOEM home page announcing the drilling plan praised it as a way for the U.S. to achieve “energy dominance.”

Tracey Blythe Moriarty, a BOEM spokeswoman, said the “open house” format lets people speak directly with agency staff to learn about the drilling proposal, adding, “We find this approach to be more effective than formal oral testimony.”

Many attendees at past meetings disagree.

Environmentalists rallied on the steps of the California state capitol in Sacramento before a BOEM hearing there, citing damage from a 1969 oil rig spill in Santa Barbara and a broken oil pipe in Refugio Beach three years ago. People upset at not being able to speak publicly chanted “Where’s our hearing?”

The agency set up informational displays at its Feb. 8 meeting, including one titled “Why Oil Is Important.”

“Californians have adamantly exposed expansion of oil drilling,” because of its effects on wildlife, oceans and beaches, David Lewis, executive director of Save The Bay in San Francisco, told The Associated Press this week. “So the outcry here against the administration’s outrageous proposal is no surprise.”

Before a Feb. 8 meeting in Tallahassee, Florida, drilling foes invoked the Deepwater Horizon disaster that fouled the Gulf of Mexico in 2010, and said they want to ensure that Interior Secretary Ryan Zinke’s promise to exempt Florida from the drilling plan — the only exception publicly announced — remains in place.

In Oregon, some meeting attendees said BOEM staff were unable to answer their questions about the drilling plan, and were frustrated at being directed to a row of laptops to type out comments.

The Trump administration wants to sell off publicly-owned utility transmission lines. The most recent budget proposal also suggests a move that could raise rates for Bonneville Power Administration customers.

The proposal isn’t sitting well with Northwest politicians, Bonneville Power Administration customers, or clean energy advocates.

A similar plan also faced strong opposition when the Trump administration proposed selling off the BPA’s transmission lines last May. This time around there’s an additional plan to generate revenue: changing how BPA sets its power rates.

That could mean customers will pay more, said Scott Corwin, the executive director of the Public Power Council, which represents many BPA customers.

“It looks like it’s a regional hit to businesses and residents here without any added benefit,” Corwin said.

The idea to privatize the BPA’s transmission assets has been considered off and on for decades.

The BPA operates about three-quarters of the high-voltage transmission systems in its territory, including Washington, Oregon and Idaho.

Changing how the BPA sets its rates also isn’t a new idea. The George W. Bush administration wanted BPA to sell its power at market rates.

BPA charges for power and transmission at cost. The current budget proposal hopes to raise up to $200 million by changing those rates — possibly by requiring a market-based rate or increasing it to the rates other utilities charge.

Corwin said the administration’s actual plan to change the rates is vague.

“It is concerning that there’s a presumption that they would change the rates just to raise money on the backs of Northwest electricity consumers,” Corwin said.

Corwin said the proposal is likely illegal because current power contracts, which go through 2028, are explicitly at-cost rates.

Sean O’Leary, spokesman for NW Energy Coalition, said selling off the publicly-owned transmission lines would fragment the grid. He said it would also make it more difficult to integrate renewable energy.

“When you’re in a region that already has the cleanest power, just about the cheapest power, and its paying for itself, there’s really not a problem to solve,” O’Leary said.

The budget proposal includes the sale of assets from two other federal power marketing administrations and the Tennessee Valley Authority.

The BPA system is funded by its users. It delivers power from 31 hydroelectric dams throughout the Columbia River Basin and the Columbia Generating Station, the region’s only nuclear power plant. It provides about 28 percent of the electric power used in the Northwest.

The proposal would actually require an act of Congress — but Northwest congressional delegates strongly oppose the idea.

Sen. Ron Wyden, D-Ore., called the proposal a “misguided scheme.”

“Oregonians raised hell last year when Trump tried to raise power bills for Pacific Northwesterners by selling off Bonneville Power, and yet his administration is back at it again. Our investment shouldn’t be put up for sale to free up money for runaway military spending or tax cuts for billionaires,” Wyden said in a statement.

A bipartisan group of Northwest house members sent a letter opposing the proposal, four days before the Trump administration released its plans.

“If market rates were imposed, Northwest public power utilities would see no value in continued BPA service. The consequence would be to leave the federal government holding non-economic assets, as well as a financial responsibility for fish mitigation costs that approach $1 billion per year,” the representatives wrote in the letter.

SALEM — Early organization has proved advantageous for supporters of a bill establishing minimum contract protections for all Oregon seed growers, which the House unanimously approved Feb. 13.

Under House Bill 4068, dealers must pay farmers market prices for seed by certain deadlines enforced by the Oregon Department of Agriculture.

Grass seed crops have received similar protections since 2011 under a statute aimed at preventing “slow pay, no pay” problems, but other types of seed were excluded from the legislation.

Before the idea of expanding the contract protections was brought to the Oregon lawmakers, the specifics were hashed out by farmers, seed dealers and trade groups.

By the time HB 4068 was introduced, all the details had been hammered out and the bill sailed through the House Agriculture Committee without any opposing testimony or even an amendment.

The lack of complication has served the bill well in 2018, when several other proposals have been killed off for being too grandiose or intricate to properly examine in a little more than a month.

Rep. Bill Post, R-Keizer, briefly explained the bill’s purpose on the House floor and praised it for adhering to the “spirit of the short session” — it’s “narrow in scope” and has been “thoroughly vetted” by the affected parties, he said.

Anna Scharf, whose family farm near Amity, Ore., was instrumental in advocating the bill, Post said.

The concept for expanding contract protections to clover, meadowfoam, radish, turnip, mustard and other seeds was initiated by Scharf in 2017.

Initially, she sought to simply add other seed types to the class of crops protected under the 2011 statute. However, the proposal “unraveled” because the payment terms for grass seed didn’t align with those of other seeds, Scharf said.

For a year, the Oregon Farm Bureau and farmers “worked out the kinks” with seed industry stakeholders and arrived at a proposal that lawmakers could embrace as “bipartisan” and “not political,” she said.

“It shows they’re willing to acknowledge that farmers growing proprietary crops have a necessity and a right to be paid in a timely manner,” Scharf said. “We aired out our differences and figured out a law we could live within.”

Because most specialty seeds are proprietary, they can’t be sold on the open market if the contracting seed dealer fails to pay, she said.

If HB 4068 is similarly successful in the Senate — which is likely — the playing field between growers and dealers will be more level, Scharf said. “It’s a game changer. I can’t tell you how excited I am about it.”

Scientists are cautioning wheat farmers in northeast Oregon about the early return of a pernicious, stunting disease that can reduce yields by as much as 41 percent.

Christina Hagerty, an Oregon State University assistant professor and plant pathologist at the Columbia Basin Agricultural Research Center, said soil-borne wheat mosaic virus has arrived four weeks earlier than last year at a disease resistance nursery near Milton-Freewater, Ore.

Already, Hagerty said she has met with five farmers about the virus and she expects more phone calls in the weeks to come.

“I think that we’re probably in for another mosaic virus year,” she said. “It’s not ideal.”

The virus, carried by a soil-borne organism, appears to be spreading around the region. Since it was discovered in the Walla Walla Valley in 2008, it has expanded from a five-mile radius to a 25-mile radius stretching into southeast Washington.

“This organism can spread any way you can think of soil spreading,” she said. “The good news is the breeders, private and public industry are working really hard to develop some good options for genetic resistance.”

Hagerty said the early arrival is likely due to warm weather in January. Symptoms are primarily seen in leaves and include yellow streaks, mosaic patterns, splotching and stunted growth.

Hagerty said farmers who recognize any of these symptoms should send a sample to either the OSU plant clinic in Hermiston, Ore., or Washington State University plant clinic in Pullman, Wash., for diagnostic testing.

“The window to diagnose is as short as eight weeks,” she said. “If they get a positive, there’s not a lot they can do this year, but they will know it is in the field and that will inform their variety selection for the following crop year.”

Soil-borne wheat mosaic virus does not respond to fumigation, and Hagerty said genetic resistance is the best tool for farmers dealing with the virus in their fields.

“We may be dealing with (the virus) on a more annual basis,” she said.

For questions or a list of genetically resistant wheat varieties, contact Hagerty at CBARC, 541-278-4186.

Oregon wheat farmer Darren Padget says the time was right for him to join the officer team of U.S. Wheat Associates.

His son is home on the farm and his wife supports him, Padget told the Capital Press.

“I’ve had the opportunity to host a few trade teams over the years, and I live in close proximity to Portland, two hours away,” he said. “So I’ve seen the work U.S. Wheat’s done firsthand, and had the opportunity to travel overseas with them on the Asian crop quality tour. I think it’s time well-spent.”

Padget will become U.S. Wheat secretary-treasurer at the organization’s June meeting in Seattle. U.S. Wheat is the overseas marketing arm of the industry.

Trade issues such as the Trans-Pacific Partnership and North American Free Trade Agreement are top priorities, Padget said.

Padget said he is impressed with U.S. Wheat and its staff.

“There’s a lot of people that have been there for decades on behalf of the U.S. farmer,” he said. “It’s quite impressive.”

A fourth-generation farmer in Grass Valley, Ore., Padget keeps a dryland wheat and summer fallow rotation, producing registered and certified seed on 3,400 acres.

Padget previously held positions on the Oregon Wheat Growers League board of directors and executive committee for seven years, serving as president in 2010. He chaired the research and technology committee of the National Association of Wheat Growers and served on the Mid-Columbia Producers board of directors, and was an officer for 10 years.

Padget will go to South Korea with the Wheat Marketing Center in late March.

Also at the U.S. Wheat meeting in June, Doug Goyings of Paulding, Ohio, will become vice chairman, and Chris Kolstad of Ledger, Mont., will become chairman. Current chairman Mike Miller, of Ritzville, Wash., will become past chairman.

“It’s just a good organization that not a lot of members understand completely how it works,” Padget said. He added with a chuckle, “I’ve got a lot to learn.”

SALEM — Oregon’s forestry and environmental regulators would study “sequestering” carbon as a possible alternative to penalizing emissions under a bill before the House Agriculture Committee.

Lawmakers are currently debating a controversial and prominent “cap-and-trade” proposal under which companies that exceed a ceiling on carbon emissions could buy credits from those that fall below it.

Timber companies and several lawmakers are advocating for a less publicized carbon-related bill that would require the Department of Environmental Quality and Department of Forestry to evaluate using “natural ecosystems” to absorb and store carbon while promoting economic development, as well as using tax incentives for companies to reduce carbon emissions.

Under House Bill 4109, the study would also examine “regional approaches” to reduce carbon emissions “other than adopting or participating in a greenhouse cap-and-trade system.”

Oregon’s annual wildfires emit more carbon monoxide, nitrous oxide, fine particulates and volatile organic compounds than industrial sources or vehicles, said Rep. David Brock Smith, R-Port Orford, the bill’s chief sponsor.

Supporters of HB 4109 argue it would encourage discussions about thinning over-stocked federal lands that are prone to catastrophic forest fires.

There’s also an opportunity to direct harvested timber toward novel products such as “cross-laminated timber,” or CLT, which is used for larger-scale buildings.

These objectives can be accomplished without sacrificing “viewsheds” or native fish — otherwise, projects would just wind up in court, said Ken Humberston, a member of the Clackamas County Board of Commissioners.

However, the bill encountered some mild criticism from the Nature Conservancy, an environmental nonprofit.

While the group supports carbon sequestration to fight climate change, the science isn’t yet conclusive as to the best return-on-investment for carbon sequestration, said Catherine Macdonald, its Oregon conservation director.

The study should be expanded to include Oregon State University and to examine the most effective methods to increase carbon sequestration, she said.

A work session on HB 4109 is scheduled for Feb. 15, which is the legislative deadline for the proposal to be approved by the House Agriculture Committee.

NEW YORK (AP) — An Oregon woman who had worms coming out of her eye is being called the first known human case of a parasitic infection spread by flies.

Fourteen tiny worms were removed from the left eye of the 26-year-old woman in August 2016. Scientists reported the case Monday.

The woman, Abby Beckley, was diagnosed in August 2016 with Thelazia gulosa. That’s a type of eye worm seen in cattle in the northern United States and southern Canada, but never before in humans.

They are spread by a type of fly known as “face flies.” The flies feed on the tears that lubricate the eyeball, scientists said.

She had been horseback riding and fishing in Gold Beach, Oregon, a coastal, cattle-farming area.

After a week of eye irritation, Beckley pulled a worm from her eye. She visited doctors, but removed most of the additional worms herself during the following few weeks.

The worms were translucent and each less than half an inch long.

After they were removed, no more worms were found and she had no additional symptoms.

Eye worms are seen in several kinds of animals, including cats and dogs. They can be spread by different kinds of flies.

Two other types of Thelazia eye worm infections had been seen in people before, but never this kind, according to Richard Bradbury of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. He was the study’s lead author.

The report was published in the American Journal of Tropical Medicine and Hygiene.

SALEM — To give the issue more consideration, lawmakers have shelved a bill intended to clarify that Oregon water law allows transfers between storage reservoirs.

Water transfers among reservoirs stopped being permitted by state regulators due to a changed legal interpretation, which is problematic for the water managers such as the Tumalo Irrigation District in Central Oregon.

The irrigation district was unable to transfer its storage water from Crescent Lake to instream uses and to transfer water from the Tumalo reservoir to smaller ponds to correct pressure problems.

Senate Bill 1558 would have established that such transfers are allowable, but the proposal has failed to survive a legislative deadline to stay alive in the Senate Environment and Natural Resources Committee.

The committee’s chairman, Sen. Michael Dembrow, D-Portland, said that “stakeholders” involved in the issue have agreed it’s “too complicated to be dealt with quickly.”

The problem will undergo a “prolonged discussion” before next year’s full legislative session, which lasts for roughly half a year, he said. The 2018 short session will wrap up in early March.

“We want to make sure there are no unintended consequences from the changes we were making,” Dembrow said. “Needless to say, when you’re dealing with water, things get complicated pretty quickly.”

ONTARIO, Ore. — Scotts Miracle-Gro Co. is reporting a large decline in the number of genetically modified creeping bentgrass plants in Malheur County.

The plant, used on golf courses, was genetically engineered by Scotts and Monsanto Co. to withstand applications of glyphosate, the active ingredient in Monsanto’s Roundup weed killer.

It took root in Oregon’s Malheur and Jefferson counties after escaping field trials in 2003. A small number of the plants have also been detected in Canyon County, Idaho.

Some farmers and irrigation districts worry the plants could clog irrigation ditches and affect shipments of crops to nations that don’t accept traces of genetically modified organisms, or GMOs.

Danielle Posch, a senior research specialist with Scotts, told members of the Idaho-Oregon onion industry during their annual meeting last week that the number of GMO bentgrass plants found in Malheur County last fall dropped by 42 percent compared to the same time in 2016.

“In 2017, we saw a significant reduction in the total number of glyphosate-tolerant creeping bentgrass plants,” she said.

Similar data for Jefferson County isn’t yet available.

Posch said the reduction in Malheur County was likely due to the Environmental Protection Agency’s approval last year of a special local need label for the use of glufosinate to control the plant.

Glufosinate is the most effective herbicide for controlling the GMO bentgrass but before the special need label, it couldn’t be used over waterways.

The plants require nearly constant moisture and can be found mostly near canals and irrigation ditches. But before the label was issued, glufosinate could only be used during a short window before and after the canals were dry.

The plants are harder to kill during those times because they aren’t growing and taking up the chemical, Posch said.

She said the company is cautiously optimistic that the use of glufosinate during the growing season is the reason for the large reduction in the number of GTCB plants.

“It makes biological sense that the chemical would be making the significant difference,” Posch said. “It’s been a great tool for us.”

Being able to use glufosinate over waterways has made a huge difference in the battle to control the plant, said Malheur County farmer Les Ito, a member of a working group of farmers, irrigation district representatives and others that is coordinating with Scotts in its efforts to control the plant.

“We needed something that could work at the water level,” he said.

Ito said he was initially skeptical about Scotts’ commitment to control the plant, but the company so far is living up to its word.

“We all feel we need to continue to hold Scotts accountable,” he said. “But they are following through on what they said they would do and I believe they have our best interests in mind. I feel a lot better about it than I did before.”

Ito said it’s unlikely the plant will ever be eradicated from the county “but we can manage it pretty well and we’ll need their help.”

The cranberry industry, soured by a huge surplus, suddenly has a new worry: The USDA will remove too many berries from the market this year.

The Cranberry Marketing Committee is asking the USDA to order handlers to give away or dispose of 5 percent of the 2017 crop, instead of the 15 percent the committee recommended last summer.

Mother Nature has been swifter to act than the USDA. The U.S. harvest was about 10 percent smaller than expected. The marketing committee and Ocean Spray, which controls a majority of the cranberries, agree that a combined 25 percent reduction would be too much for growers to financially absorb in one year.

“If USDA ignores the (committee’s) recommendation to lower the restricted percentage, it risks the unintended consequences of overcorrecting the industry’s supply issues,” Ocean Spray CEO and President Randy Papadellis wrote to USDA this month.

The USDA, largely embracing the industry’s request, proposed in January a mandatory 15 percent volume reduction. The agency has not made a final decision.

The cranberry committee in August sought federal intervention to reduce a surplus that was projected to reach 115 percent of annual sales. The fall harvest, however, was smaller than anticipated across the U.S., with the exception of Oregon. The industry blames drought and deer damage, along with farmers cutting back on production because of low berry prices. Harvests also fell short of projections in Canada.

The cranberry committee and Ocean Spray now say the industry can still meet its volume-reduction goal with a 5 percent cut. A 15 percent reduction on a small crop could drive this year’s returns below what some small farmers and handlers could sustain, according to Papadellis.

Not all cranberry farmers see it that way. Some growers say the small crop and a 15 percent reduction would speed up bringing supply and demand in line. In fact, while asking for the 2017 volume control to be scaled back, the cranberry committee is petitioning the USDA to order a 25 percent cut in the 2018 crop.

Washington farmer Malcolm McPhail, an Ocean Spray grower, said he understood the short-term advantage of scaling back 2017 volume controls, but the small crop was probably a fluke, he said.

“We were lucky,” McPhail said. “There’s no good reason for crops to be down two years in a row. Next year, we’ll have another big crop, and we’ll be right back in the thick of things.”

Volume reduction has strong support from the industry’s cranberry committee, but some growers and handlers, particularly outside the Ocean Spray cooperative, oppose a mandatory cut in supply.

The cranberry surplus is largely in the form of juice concentrate, but the marketing order would also require disposing fresh fruit.

California-based Mariani Packing Co.y, makers of dried-fruit products, asserted in comments to the USDA that withholding raw fruit would not be in the public interest. The smaller 2017 crop likely will mean a shortage of raw cranberries and sweet dried cranberries, according to the company.

Organic cranberries would be exempted from the order.

TRIANGLE LAKE, Ore. (AP) — Jenn and James Ruppert raise rabbits, goats and bees on their 3-acre farm. Most of their neighbors are small-farmers, too, or retirees living on acreage along Highway 36 as it winds through the rural Lake Creek Valley.

Weyerhaeuser Co. owns thousands of acres of forestland around the valley and frequently carries out clear-cuts. Seneca Jones Timber Co., Roseburg Forest Products, Giustina Resources and numerous smaller operators log across the county, too, harvesting some of the 2 to 3 billion board feet of wood cut from Oregon’s private timberlands each year.

The timber companies’ intermittent use of helicopters to spray herbicides onto clear-cuts to kill brush and let planted Douglas fir seedlings survive has long been a flash point in this community, and in other parts of rural Lane County where homes abut large private forests.

But it became personal for the Rupperts on a September morning in 2015 when Jenn Ruppert said she heard a helicopter hover above a Weyerhaeuser-owned ridge two miles from their house, then saw a cloud of mist rolling downward.

“You could see the drift coming,” she said. “It had a chemical smell, like ammonia.”

Within days, the Rupperts and their children were coughing and suffering from nosebleeds, rashes, diarrhea and vomiting. She said her rabbits began having miscarriages. Most of her beehives and numerous fruit trees and vegetables died, she said.

So the Rupperts leapt at the chance to sign a petition circulated by local activists to ban aerial herbicide spraying across Lane County through an amendment to the county’s charter.

Community Rights Lane County and the Lane County Freedom From Aerial Herbicides Alliance turned in about 15,000 signatures to the Lane County Clerk’s Office in September, more than enough to place a measure on the ballot in the May 15 election.

But a legal challenge and an obscure state statute that forbids proposed county charter amendments from preempting Oregon law has put the ballot measure on hold. Supporters of the spray ban and Lane County legal staff are awaiting a Lane County Circuit Court judge’s ruling on the matter that could come as soon as this week.

Tracking aerial herbicide spraying in Oregon — including how many aerial sprays take place in a given time-frame and how much herbicide is released — is no easy task.

Before they spray, timber operators must file a notification with the state Department of Forestry, which regulates logging on private lands.

The department’s database lists more than 1,100 notifications to conduct aerial sprays in Lane County since October 2014. That’s an average of more than 21 a month.

But some permits appear to be duplicates. In the case of large companies like Weyerhaeuser, the notices often list multiple properties covering hundreds or thousands of acres, though clear-cuts are limited to 120 acres under state law, Department of Forestry spokesman Nick Hennemann said. Plus, some timber companies may file notifications but never spray.

Yet the sheer volume of permits highlights the major role helicopter spraying plays in forest regeneration on timber companies’ clear-cuts.

Timber companies are hardly the only Oregon entities that use herbicides. Herbicides and pesticides are commonly used by farmers, by rural homeowners and by city dwellers.

Forest industry advocates say aerial spraying of forestland accounts for just 4 percent of all pesticides sprayed in Oregon each year.

“We have a lot of measures in place to make sure pesticides and herbicides are used properly,” said Sara Duncan, spokeswoman for the Oregon Forest and Industries Council, which lobbies on behalf of timber companies.

Duncan said companies typically spray a clear-cut two to four times in the first few years after the site has been logged and planted with seedlings. With the competing brush dead, the seedlings can survive the first few years and grow to maturity. Without spraying, seedlings can be overwhelmed by blackberry thickets and other growth, the industry says,.

The Oregon Forest Practices Act, established in 1971, bans herbicide spraying within 60 feet of domestic water supplies, or in weather conditions that could carry chemicals off the clear-cut site.

“We’re an extremely regulated industry,” Duncan said. “We replant following harvest, and the use of those herbicides is to help those newly planted trees establish and thrive.”

The industry says that given the sheer size of private forestlands, aerial spraying is the only practical way to kill weeds.

But anti-spray activists such as Justin Workman and Eron King, who live on the opposite side of Triangle Lake from the Rupperts, say large timber companies often flout those rules and face few consequences for it.

They and other spray ban proponents accuse the county of keeping the measure off the ballot at the behest of timber companies — an assertion the county disputes.

The couple said they and their two sons have been sickened by three large aerial-spray chemical drifts since 2009. They were among 43 area residents who had their urine tested in a 2011 study by the federal Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry for common commercial herbicides such as atrazine and 2,4-D.

The agency’s final report, released in 2014, found “evidence that residents of the investigation area were exposed to pesticides or herbicides in spring and fall 2011. However, it was not possible to confirm if these observed exposures occurred as a result of local application practices or were from other sources.”

Workman and other advocates have faulted the findings, arguing that follow-up urine tests should have been conducted. They say the two state agencies that regulate forest spraying — the departments of forestry and agriculture — should have played a larger role in the study.

The state Department of Agriculture regulates a wide range of pesticide applications, including on farms, timberlands and residential and urban settings.

Relatively few residents ever file complaints with the agency about herbicide use.

The agency each year receives about three citizen complaints relating to all pesticide spraying.

The agency also conducts periodic inspections of companies’ pesticide equipment and records, agency spokesman Bruce Pokarney said. The department issued 24 fines stemming from pesticide sprays last year, with most of the fines ranging from $400 to $3,000. Half of the penalties were issued for “faulty, careless or negligent pesticide application activities,” records show. It’s unclear whether any of the fines were for aerial forestry spraying. None of the fines were issued to large timber companies.

“Sometimes it may be just a notice of violation,” Pokarney said of the citations. “But it builds a history with that applicator. It basically puts you on notice that you did something wrong, and we’ll be checking up to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

But residents such as Workman — who says regular spring and fall aerial forestry sprays give his family head and body aches, sore throats and nausea — are un­impressed with the regulatory system.

“There’s nothing you can do about sprays here unless you suffer from organ failure or death,” Workman said. “There is literally no way to prove that was their chemicals in us, concretely in a court of law. It makes you feel helpless, like you can’t do anything about it.”

With the aerial spray ban ballot measure tied up in court, Lane County residents have taken their complaints to Lane County’s five commissioners in what has become a nearly two-month public shaming campaign.

At the start of each Tuesday commissioners’ meeting since Dec. 19, dozens of residents in public comments have berated the county and the commissioners, accusing them of putting timber interests ahead of safety by keeping the measure of the ballot despite the petitioners’ signatures being deemed valid by the Lane County clerk.

Commissioners and county Counsel Stephen Dingle have said the ban supporters don’t understand the neutral role the county must play in making sure a citizen initiative complies with state laws.

Many residents have argued that timber companies could still spray herbicides from trucks or use other ground-based methods if an aerial spray ban is passed.

But timber advocates say banning helicopter sprays would dent an industry that supports thousands of direct and related forest sector jobs and billions of dollars in annual payroll in Lane County.

“Oregon as a whole is the number one softwood lumber state in the nation, and Lane and Douglas counties go back and forth as far as who produces the most, so we’re looking at some of the most productive land in Oregon,” said Duncan, the Oregon Forest and Industries Council spokeswoman.

Without aerial spraying, “That productivity would definitely go down. That’s the reason we have those tools in the first place,” she said.

But for Jenn Ruppert, who watched her children suffer from coughs and migraines after the 2015 spray on Weyerhaeuser land, those comments are typical for an industry she says values profits above safety.

“Financially for them it’s the cheapest, it covers the most ground. But it’s not safe,” Ruppert said. “I feel like it’s just a sad and broken system. People are suffering.”

Weyerhaeuser officials did not return messages from The Register-Guard.

Oregon’s wildlife regulators have “uplisted” the marbled murrelet from a threatened to an endangered species, which will likely result in stricter logging limits on state forestland.

The Oregon Fish and Wildlife Commission voted 4-2 to upgrade protections for the coastal bird at its Feb. 9 meeting in Portland.

The change to endangered status means that scientists at the Oregon Department of Fish And Wildlife, which is overseen by the commission, must complete “survival guidelines” for the marbled murrelet by June.

Those guidelines are expected to further restrict logging in the bird’s suitable habitat, if existing protocols for state forestland are found to be insufficient.

Though Oregon’s version of the Endangered Species Act only applies to property owned by the state government, some private forestland owners worry the uplisting will effectively move Oregon toward more stringent regulations for all forests.

Bruce Buckmaster, a commission member who voted against the change, said he shared their concerns.

“They’re old enough to know it’s an ironclad law they will undoubtedly be affected,” said Buckmaster, a retired business owner.

Commission members originally considered ordering the agency to develop those survival guidelines without uplisting the species.

This proposal, set forth by commissioner Bob Webber, would have had the effect of creating a roadmap for the murrelet’s recovery that wouldn’t be legally enforceable.

However, the motion resulted in 3-3 deadlock vote, after which Webber changed his mind and supported the uplisting.

“I stated my preference but my least favorite option would be to do nothing,” said Webber, an attorney.

SALEM, Ore. (AP) — If winter weather doesn’t arrive soon, Oregon could be facing a summer drought.

The Statesman Journal reports this has been one of the warmest winters on record in Salem, the capital city. That has meant rain instead of snow in the Cascade Range, where snowpack is 35 to 40 percent of normal.

Snowpack forecasts are used by farmers to see how much irrigation water they can expect, utilities to plan for hydroelectric plant outputs, and fisheries managers for conditions facing salmon as they migrate out to sea and back upriver to spawn.

Statistics show Oregon has gotten 88 percent of its usual precipitation but just 40 percent of its typical snowfall.

The same trend was present in 2014 and 2015 before snowier winters arrived the following two years.

Federal prosecutors have asked a judge to reconsider the dismissal of the criminal case against a Nevada rancher who led a 2014 armed standoff with government agents.

States’ rights activist Cliven Bundy and his sons Ryan and Ammon Bundy have a right to their beliefs but don’t have a right to obstruct federal law enforcement officers, wrote Dayle Elieson, the interim U.S. Attorney in Nevada, in a court filing Wednesday.

Elieson said the Bundys sought all along to “deflect responsibility” and blame the federal government even though they risked the lives of more than 20 officers who were “simply doing what they were told to do.”

The Bundys and their supporters “demonized the uniformed men and women in the wash, conflated their jobs with their identities, and claimed that their work was immoral,” Elieson wrote.

Chief U.S. District Judge Gloria Navarro last month dismissed the criminal case against Bundy, his two sons and a Montana militia leader. The judge cited what she called flagrant misconduct by federal prosecutors who failed to fully share evidence with defendants.

Elieson doesn’t say in the filing if her office will appeal to 9th Circuit Court of Appeals and Trisha Young, a spokeswoman for the office, declined to answer the question.

Bundy’s attorney, Bret Whipple, didn’t return request for comment to The Associated Press but told the Las Vegas Review Journal that prosecutors may be trying to buy more time to decide on an appeal. Whipple told the Review Journal the filing contains no new information and is without merit.

After the case was dismissed and Cliven Bundy was let out of jail, the rancher who has become an icon in conservative and anti-government circles said that it’s up to the states, not the federal officials, how to manage vast expanses of rangeland in the U.S. West

“I don’t recognize the federal government to have authority, jurisdiction, no matter who the president is,” Bundy said last month.

Elieson argues in the new filing that Judge Navarro should have dismissed individual counts rather than the entire case.

She contends that the dismissal sets a dangerous precedent for law enforcement by encouraging the public to disrespect the law.

“This case has major ramifications for all public lands law enforcement officers,” Elieson said. “These officers often work alone in remote rural areas of the country with no available back-up if confronted with danger.”

ONTARIO, Ore. — Garry Bybee and Isao “Kame” Kameshige are the newest members of the Idaho-Oregon onion industry hall of fame.

Kameshige, 92, has grown onions in the region for 68 years, while Bybee, 79, has farmed onions in this area for 45 years.

They were inducted into the hall of fame Feb. 6 during the 58th annual meeting of the Idaho and Malheur County, Ore., onion growers’ associations.

Both men have served on numerous onion industry committees and boards.

“Garry and Kame are a couple of highly deserving people for this award,” said Clint Shock, director of Oregon State University’s agricultural research station near Ontario.

The southwestern Idaho and eastern Oregon onion industries are closely linked. They established a joint hall of fame in 1986.

Bybee has turned over operation of his farm in the past few years to his son, Marc, and his wife, Tamara.

“To be honored by the onion industry after 45 years is indeed an honor,” said Bybee. “It’s been a hell of a ride.”

He credited others for any success he has had during his farming career.

“I’ve seen the highs, I’ve seen the lows, I’ve seen the middle, I’ve survived and it’s because a lot of friends, a lot of business partners and a lot of growers have helped me survive through all these years,” he said.

Bybee said it’s hard for him to digest the amount of change that has taken place in the onion industry over the past five decades.

“When we first started, everything was manual,” he said. “Everything was done by hand. Now, virtually the only thing that is still done by hand is sorting. Technology is changing every day and I can’t imagine what’s going to happen in the next 45 years.”

Kameshige’s two sons, Randy and Brian, run the family farm while Kame helps taxi workers around the farm.

Randy Kameshige told Capital Press his father is “pretty low key about accolades. He just liked to do his part and help out where he could. He’s always inquisitive, always trying to learn and not afraid to try something different and always open to learning something from somebody else, too.”

The family farm has faced a lot of tough times over the decades but the key to Kame’s success has been hard work and not incurring a lot of debt, Randy Kameshige said.

“His philosophy was, stay away from debt,” he said. “He didn’t over-extend himself and when times were tough, we didn’t have a lot of debt.”

Kame started growing onions in the Ontario area in 1949 on 37 acres. His farm has grown to 700 acres today.

Warm weather and meager mountain snow could spell a difficult water year ahead for Oregon farms.

The USDA Natural Resources Conservation Service released its monthly water supply outlook report for February, and overall conditions are not looking good in most basins across the state.

Of 137 monitoring stations, every single one recorded below-average snowpack as of Feb. 1. Most were less than 50 percent of normal, according to the NRCS.

Julie Koeberle, snow survey hydrologist, said the chances for a full snowpack recovery are low, but stressed there is still time for conditions to improve. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s Climate Prediction Center is calling for cooler and wetter weather over the next three months, offering a glimmer of hope.

However, if Oregon expects to fully catch up on snowpack by April 1, the next two months would have to deliver 125-225 percent of normal precipitation, with all of that falling as snow.

“Water managers will need to carefully evaluate water supplies this summer if snow and spring rains fail to bring relief,” Koeberle said.

Northeast Oregon continues to boast the highest snowpack in the state, at 64 percent of normal in the Grande Ronde, Powder, Burnt and Imnaha basins, and 55 percent of normal in the Umatilla, Walla Walla and Willow basins.

Those averages drop as low as 38 percent in the Willamette Basin, 35 percent in the Owyhee Basin and 33 percent in the Klamath Basin in southern Oregon, where streamflow forecasts between April and September are all project to be less than 60 percent of normal.

John Wolf, manager of the Klamath Irrigation District, said his board met for more than four hours Thursday to discuss drought planning.

“It’s pretty bleak down here right now,” Wolf said. “We’re all praying for a February or March miracle.”

Already, Wolf said the district is planning to move back water availability by about two weeks, from April 15 to April 23 or 24. He added it is still not clear whether the state will allow drought permits for wells this season.

“Nothing is really cast in stone yet,” he said.

The U.S. Drought Monitor, operated by the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, has painted most of eastern, central and southern Oregon in either “abnormally dry” or moderate drought conditions.

Despite low predicted streamflows, reservoirs continue to store average or above-average amounts of water, providing a much-needed buffer for farmers heading into summer. The lowest reservoir levels for any basin as a whole is 98 percent of average in the Rogue and Umpqua basins of southwest Oregon. The highest are in the Owyhee and Malheur basins in southeast Oregon, at 139 percent of average.

Oregon farmers and agricultural groups are divided about the cost versus benefit of a proposed carbon “cap-and-invest” bill that is expected to dominate the 35-day legislative session.

Supporters argue that climate change is already causing more extreme weather patterns, putting crops and farmers at risk.

Opponents, on the other hand, say a carbon cap will raise fuel prices and cost Oregon jobs, while making little to no difference on global greenhouse gas emissions or climate change.

The Legislature held a hearing this week, and the House Committee on Energy and Environment may hold another work session Monday, Feb. 12, to discuss the contentious policy.

The issue may be moot for now, though, since lawmakers on both sides of the political aisle have suggested the short session is not enough time to pass such a complex bill.

Still, farmers and ranchers are key players in the debate that could have long-lasting consequences moving forward.

Rising costs

Under cap-and-invest, the state would place a limit on carbon emissions and then charge those companies for “allowances” to exceed the limit, which can be sold or traded on the open market.

The cap would gradually be reduced lowered over time, and the money raised by the program would be placed in funding pools for climate-friendly state initiatives, such as renewable energy development.

Oregon’s proposal would take effect in 2021 and require companies that emit more than 25,000 metric tons of carbon annually to purchase allowances. But agriculture groups such as the Oregon Farm Bureau, Oregon Cattlemen’s Association and Northwest Food Processors Association are concerned the bill would raise food and electricity prices at a time when growers are already facing razor-thin margins.

Jenny Dresler, director of state public policy for the Farm Bureau, said cap-and-invest would cost a mid-size producer in the Willamette Valley an extra $3,000 to $5,000 per year, and $11,000 to $16,000 for custom farming businesses.

The burden, Dresler said, could be staggering for families struggling to make ends meet.

“They are going to see a pretty significant hike in their fuel costs alone,” Dresler said in an interview with the Capital Press.

In written testimony submitted to the Legislature, Jerome Rosa, executive director of the Oregon Cattlemen’s Association, said the bill would drive up costs for cattle producers. Incentive programs offered under the bill would also “require ranchers to devote precious time and resources to a cumbersome application process,” he added.

As for energy-intense food processors, the worry is that cap-and-invest would push companies across state lines.

Craig Smith, director of government affairs for the Northwest Food Processors Association, said most companies already have manufacturing plants in nearby Washington and Idaho, and may leave Oregon altogether if the cost of doing business becomes too high.

“When you start to tinker with the economy this way, it just has some unintended consequences,” Smith said. “Those are real jobs.”

Even if Oregon managed to eliminate all emissions, Smith doubted it would make a dent on the world’s carbon output.

“If you look at Oregon’s carbon footprint, it’s almost non-existent,” he said.

Changing climate

According to reports, global carbon dioxide emissions were expected to reach 41 billion metric tons in 2017. Oregon emits roughly 63 million metric tons of carbon dioxide annually. That’s .001 percent of the world’s output.

Brad Reed, spokesman for the Renew Oregon coalition pushing for cap-and-invest, acknowledged that Oregon’s carbon footprint is comparatively small, but took issue with the argument.

“Just because Oregon can’t grow enough potatoes to feed the entire world, do we not grow potatoes here?” Reed said. “We do our part.”

Plus, Reed said Oregon would not be going it alone — the state would join carbon pricing markets in California and Quebec and Ontario, Canada, which combined make up the fourth-largest economy in the world.

“That has a lot of weight,” he said. “Looking at it purely economically, it is really to Oregon’s advantage to get moving on this.”

But farmers who support cap-and-invest say it is about more than dollars and cents.

The Oregon Climate and Agriculture Network, or OrCAN, is a volunteer-run organization that formed in late 2017 to advocate farming practices that sequester more carbon in soil, such as reduced tillage or cover cropping.

Working with Renew Oregon, OrCAN rallied support from 138 small farms, ranches and vineyards which signed on to a letter urging Gov. Kate Brown and lawmakers to pass cap-and-invest.

“Our rural communities are observing dramatic changes in the climate, which we must address or lose our livelihoods,” the letter reads. “When climate change exposes our crops to extreme and unpredictable temperatures, our yields and economic security are threatened.”

Potential benefits

Megan Kemple, a nonprofit director in Eugene, serves as director of OrCAN. She said extreme weather is leading to more unpredictable growing seasons and farm damage of its own.

For example, Kemple said major snowstorms battered the Eugene area four years ago, causing several $30,000 greenhouses to collapse. A similar event last winter caused nearly $100 million in damage to onion storage and packing facilities in Eastern Oregon.

“That kind of extreme weather is becoming more and more common,” Kemple said. “It’s a huge challenge for farms.”

A portion of revenue collected by cap-and-invest would go into a climate investment fund, which Kemple said would provide grants to help farmers increase carbon sequestration. Those projects would then generate offset credits, which could be sold back on the market.

“Agriculture can actually be part of the solution when farms implement climate-friendly practices,” Kemple said. “This bill provides funding for them to do that.”

Les Perkins, manager of the Farmers Irrigation District in Hood River, did not speak for or against the bill, but told the Capital Press that funding to invest in small-scale renewable energy projects may have the potential to benefit districts like his.

The FID, which includes 5,888 acres, includes two small hydroelectric projects that have generated $50 million for the district over 30 years. That money has paid for infrastructure to conserve water, such as piping in place of open irrigation ditches.

Water conservation is key, Perkins said, at a time when more winter precipitation is falling as rain instead of snow. Without snowpack on Mount Hood to replenish streams and reservoirs, he said the timing and availability of water during irrigation season is affected.

“You can see those shifts,” Perkins said. “It’s a scary thing to be looking at less snowpack available.”

Sharon Blick, who owns Living Earth Farm on 15 acres west of Eugene, said timing is everything for farmers.

Blick said she is already seeing weather cause bizarre issues on her farm — one year the rhubarb started making stalks in November, when it is usually dormant. Another year her apple tree was blooming as late as Labor Day, when they generally bloom in spring.

“If you can’t predict what the weather is going to do, it’s really hard to get your timing right,” Blick said.

Climate change is already getting worse, Blick said. She supports cap-and-invest to help agriculture in the long run.

“I’m worried about our food supply, really,” she said. “I see things getting worse and worse the longer we wait to do anything about climate change.”

SALEM — A proposal tying the amount of money available to ranchers for livestock losses to Oregon’s wolf population to Oregon’s wolf population has cleared its first hurdle.

Under House Bill 4106, Oregon lawmakers would be required to appropriate money to the state’s wolf compensation fund based on the population of the species, to the extent practicable.

The bill will be scheduled for a work session during the next meeting of the House Agriculture Committee on Feb. 13, allowing the proposal to survive an initial legislative deadline, said Rep. Brian Clem, D-Salem, the committee’s chair.

Several ranchers testified that it only makes sense to increase compensation funding as the number of wolves in Oregon continues rising. State wildlife regulators currently peg the wolf population at more than 100, though some ranchers consider this a low estimate.

In Wallowa County, which is home to eight confirmed wolf packs, it costs up to $30,000 a year to have a range rider patrol for the predators, said Rod Childers, a rancher in the area.

“One range rider is not cutting it,” he said. “There’s no way he can respond to all those different packs.”

The Oregon League of Conservation Voters opposes HB 4106 because it would confirm the “falsehood” that rising wolf populations will necessarily result in more livestock kills, said Paige Spence, the group’s Oregon conservation network director.

“Predation rates have not increased with Oregon’s increased wolf population,” she said.

Sean Stevens, executive director of the Oregon Wild environmental group, said problems with fraud and abuse of the wolf compensation fund should be resolved before the program is expanded.

Counties have recommended the disbursal of compensation funds without sufficient input from local committees, sometimes in areas with no wolves or confirmed depradations, he said.

Childers, the Wallow County rancher, said that wolf compensation funds are well-vetted.

“We do the best we can on the ground,” he said. “I don’t believe there’s widespread fraud in any of our programs.”

In some cases, wolf compensation funds are used to prepare for the arrival of wolves in regions they’ve yet to be documented, said Todd Nash, a rancher and chair of the Oregon Cattlemen’s Association’s wolf committee.

For example, the money pays for the disposal of livestock and wildlife carcasses, which would otherwise attract predators, as well as the installation of fladry, which is rope adorned with ribbons to deter predators.

“If they’re being proactive, that’s a wonderful thing, isn’t it?” Nash said.

SALEM — A proposal to reclassify 1,700 acres in Oregon’s Washington County from a rural reserve to an urban reserve was killed shortly out of the gate.

Under House Bill 4075, the land could have been included in the Portland metropolitan area’s “urban growth boundary” instead of being shielded from development for 50 years.

After the bill’s first public hearing on Feb. 8 before the House Agriculture Committee, proponents and critics of HB 4075 learned it would go no further.

The committee’s chair, Rep. Brian Clem, D-Salem, said the bill was too “problematic” for a thorough vetting during 2018’s short legislative session.

“This bill will not be moving forward this session in this committee,” Clem said.

Many of the arguments for and against HB 4075 were familiar in Oregon’s ongoing land use debate.

Supporters claimed more development in burgeoning Washington County would fuel Oregon’s economic “engine” of high tech development, which shouldn’t be sacrificed for the “sacred cow” of preserving farmland.

Detractors argued that urbanization should become more condensed before spreading out, saving not only farmland but the agricultural infrastructure — such as machinery and input suppliers — needed to sustain the industry.

However, the discussion over urban and rural reserves also has another dimension due to the a “grand bargain” struck by lawmakers four years ago.

The concept of reserves became part of Oregon’s law use law in 2007, when the Legislature passed Senate Bill 1011 aiming to improve the metropolitan region’s long term growth planning.

In 2012, the state’s Land Conservation and Development Commission approved the rural and urban reserve designation developed by Portland’s Metro regional government and the counties of Washington, Clackamas and Multnomah.

Two years later, though, the Oregon Court of Appeals ruled that LCDC had made several errors in its approval, which threatened to greatly prolong the reserve designation process.

That court decision prompted Oregon lawmakers in 2014 to pass a compromise bill establishing urban and rural reserves, effectively bypassing the bureaucratic process for such designations.

Opponents of the HB 4075 claim that “a deal is a deal,” but if lawmakers go down the road of altering the 1,700 acres in Washington County, it will be difficult to reject future adjustment requests.

“This break of a settlement jeopardizes the reserves,” said Mary Kyle McCurdy, deputy director of the 1,000 Friends of Oregon conservation group.

Steve Callaway, mayor of Hillsboro, acknowledged his city signed onto the “grand bargain” in 2014, but said it didn’t expect so much land to be taken off the market over the next four years.

Hillsboro no longer has enough acres in urban reserves to adequately plan for the future, he said.

Jon Chandler, CEO of the Oregon Home Builders Association, said that “planning theory” in this case has run up against reality, which justifies an adjustment.

“Things change and these assumptions can’t be sacrosanct,” he said.

PORTLAND, Ore. (AP) — With a whoosh, Clive, a 7-month-old Harris’s hawk, spreads his wings and takes flight over the wet streets of downtown Portland. The skies are dark and cloudy on a chilly January evening, but Clive’s keen eyes dart from treetop to treetop, scanning.

A few blocks away, Mars, an older hawk, is also patrolling the skies and, a few blocks from that, a third bird is searching the streets.

They’re all looking for one thing: crows.

These hawks are not here of their own volition. They were loosed on the crows of downtown by Kort Clayton, owner of Integrated Avian Solutions, a Portland-based company that uses hawks and other raptors to shoo away problem birds from wineries, dumps and, in this case, business districts.

Clayton was called in after years of fruitless efforts at driving out the bothersome birds. Crows were eating the insulation from building walls. They created such a roar that hotel guests were jolted awake at early hours. Most notably, they left busy sidewalks slickened with poop.

Sheri Scali, senior property manager at a large building near the Keller Auditorium on the south end of downtown, heard them before she saw them. It was early January and as she was heading into work before dawn, she was greeted by the busy cackles of roosting birds.

They hadn’t been there the day before and they were loud, but she didn’t give the flock much thought until the sun came up. Under the light of day, Scali witnessed the mess a large group of crows is capable of creating overnight.

“When we looked down from above, it looked like it had snowed,” she said.

During the day, crows spread out across the Pacific Northwest, scavenging what they can from sites urban and rural alike. But once the sun heads toward the horizon, they seek warmth and safety in numbers, gathering in flocks of up to 10,000 birds and descending on the trees and parks and rooftops of downtown Portland, Clayton said.

During the great snowstorm of early 2017, a Portland Police criminalist snapped a picture of a flock gathered next to headquarters. The crows were so numerous, and contrasted so starkly against the fresh blanket of snow, that the trees looked like mashed potatoes covered in pepper.

Their ubiquity, at least during winter months, makes them hard to ignore.

When flocks, known ominously as “murders,” gather in these numbers, a cacophonous maelstrom announces their evening arrival. Crows are deft communicators and they waste no time telling each other about the exploits of the day. They squawk and bray and bleet from the treetops, drowning out the sounds of the city below.

The din is bothersome, but mostly harmless unless you’re trying to sleep. The problems created by that many birds, fresh back from a day of feeding, is feculent. Or to put it more simply, it’s their poop.

The roosting birds, drawn to the downtown core by warmth and an abundance of food sources, started to become a problem about four years ago when everything beneath their preferred trees quickly took on a sheen of avian excrement. Trees, cars, sculptures and downtown pedestrians all became targets of the droppings.

In 2014, more than 30 crows were found dead in Portland’s urban core. An investigation by the Portland Audubon Society found the birds had been poisoned. Last week, witnesses in Northeast Portland reported seeing some crows “falling from the sky,” while others were found seizing on the ground.

An investigation into the most recent spate of crow deaths is ongoing, but appears to be consistent with poisoning, said Bob Sallinger, conservation director with the Audubon Society.

When the crows began to congregate in such large numbers, complaints poured into Downtown Clean & Safe, a program that works in partnership with the city and the Portland Business Alliance to provide cleaning and security services to the downtown area.

Working with Central City Concern, the city hired crews to pressure wash the streets of the crow-created mess, but it was a sisyphean effort.

“We would pressure wash all night,” said Lynnae Berg, executive director of Downtown Clean & Safe. “And then the crows would wake up and it would look like we had done nothing.”

As it became clear they couldn’t beat the problem with pressure washing alone, they called in a device called the “Poopmaster 6000,” a motorized brick-scrubbing cart that resembles a Zamboni. The Poopmaster worked great on the ground, but did nothing for the bird poop that shellacked benches and newspaper racks and public art.

With all of the obvious solutions seemingly exhausted, Berg and the downtown business community had to get creative.

Enter the hawk.

As far as animals go, crows are near the top tier of intelligence. Their brains are oversized for their small bodies and it shows in their behavior. They communicate in complex and intricate ways. If one bird in the roost discovers a plentiful source of food, they’ll go back and alert the rest. Sometimes, when one of them dies, a group will gather in a tree above their deceased kin in a kind of mourning. They’ve been observed using sticks to pry grubs from holes in logs.

Perhaps most impressively, researchers have shown that crows can remember people who wrong them, for up to five years, and pass that knowledge along to their offspring.

In the mid-2000s, John Marzluff, a wildlife biologist at the University of Washington and the author of “Gifts of the Crow,” set out to study some of the birds on campus, as detailed in Audubon Magazine:

As they trapped and banded crows around the University of Washington’s Seattle campus, he and his collaborators wore a latex caveman mask. When they later returned to those locations, either maskless or wearing a Dick Cheney mask the crows had never seen before, the birds ignored them. But anybody showing up in a caveman mask would spark a crowpocalypse. It wasn’t just the trapped birds that responded; apparently others had witnessed the abduction and remembered it. Whole gangs of crows followed the evildoer, scolding and dive-bombing. The birds knew that caveman face, and they didn’t like it one bit.

Like people, these birds hold grudges.

“I am still amazed by them — every time I look I see something different,” Marzluff told The Oregonian/OregonLive. In crows, Marzluff has observed a wide range of behavior, including “language, delinquency, frolic, passion, wrath, risk-taking, and awareness.”

And it’s their intelligence that leads them to gather in great numbers in places like downtown Portland. Around dusk, they come together for what some call a “social hour.” Starting around 4 p.m., thousands of crows gather in the trees along the waterfront or in the South Park Blocks or anywhere else that has large trees. They exchange information about where they’ve found food that day or predators they’ve encountered.

After about an hour of chit-chat, they move to a secondary location to roost for the night. The densely packed buildings provide light and warmth, two of the crows’ top priorities when looking for a safe place to spend the night.

Once they find a place they like, they will call it home for an entire winter.

“The challenge is to manage the conflict between people and birds,” Berg said. Other cities use pyrotechnics and physical hazing to deter the crows, but “we didn’t feel that was right for Portland.”

Once it became clear that the problem of the crow droppings couldn’t be solved from below, Berg looked skyward.

Clayton, owner of Integrated Avian Solutions, has been working with raptors for 25 years. It started as a hobby in his teens when he began hunting ducks with falcons. His interest in birds of prey grew and eventually he turned it into a business, using peregrine falcons, gyrfalcons and hawks to chase nuisance birds — usually starlings, gulls and ravens — from vineyards and trash collection sites.

Last year, when Clayton brought in hawks as part of a pilot program to chase off the crows, it was his first experience flying his birds in an urban environment.

The Harris’s hawk was the obvious candidate. In the wild, they are one of the few raptors to hunt cooperatively so they can work in teams. Any of his falcons would have likely gone after each other before they even noticed the crows.

Each bird is fitted with a light and a bell, as well as a tiny backpack loaded with a GPS tracker. The birds respond almost instantly to food, but on the rare occasion they don’t come back, Clayton tracks them with an iPad he keeps in a fanny pack while he patrols the streets of downtown.

Sporting a neon green vest with “CROW PATROL” emblazoned across the back, Clayton walks the streets of Portland’s business district for a few hours four nights a week, eyes trained upward for sightings of black crows against the black sky, ears scanning for the tell-tale sounds of crow flock.

It doesn’t take much to scatter a flock. The hawks don’t chase the crows, but they are seen as such a threat that even their presence in the area means it’s time to move on. As soon as the hawks take flight, the crows nervously move off to safer territory.

The hawks are innate hunters with instinct to kill, but they’ve been trained not to and they pose no risk to the crows. They operate on a reward system and killing crows doesn’t earn them treats from their handlers.

What does earn them treats is clearing crows and, in that respect, they’ve been quite successful. In their first year, the hawks easily cleared the designated area.

Now in their second year, Clayton and the hawks got started earlier, hitting the streets in late October, and are responsible for clearing a larger area — more than 70-square-blocks of the busiest area of downtown.

On a recent mid-January night, it appeared that Clayton and his hawks were performing their duties almost too well. Over a few chilly hours, Clayton spent the vast majority of his time looking for crows to chase. Ditto for the two other teams of handlers and hawks patrolling the area.

The few flocks they did encounter were just outside of the designated area, right where they should be. And, according to Berg, the crow-related complaints have dropped.

“We feel like we’ve found the right solution to manage the issue,” she said. “We’ve had fewer complaints. People are really satisfied when they see the result.”

One of those people is Scali, the property manager. After she saw her building and the surrounding sidewalks thoroughly coated with crow droppings, she got in touch with the Portland Business Alliance, who called Berg, who let Clayton and the hawks know about the problem area.

They came and cleared the crows much more quickly than Scali anticipated.

“Literally within one day, they were gone,” she said. “It was far beyond what we thought would happen.”