Crop Circles Southeast of Eugene
We left Eugene early—around 7:10 AM—after a short delay involving Vernon insisting his cooler was a “controlled environment” and not to be touched. That didn’t stop me from sitting on it for half the drive. We took two vehicles, staggered arrival. I rode with Josh, Jennifer, and Caleb. Caleb drove, mostly in silence, except to comment on logging trucks and the decline of roadside diners.
The location was a 300-acre private farm outside Oakridge, Oregon. No livestock, mostly seasonal crops. The farmer—mid-60s, Vietnam vet, polite but wary—met us at the gate and made it clear we had about three hours before he’d consider us trespassers. He didn’t charge us but mentioned a “donation box” by the barn. Donna slipped in a twenty. Professor handed over a thick envelope, likely more.
The crop in question was winter rye. We walked about 400 yards into the field before spotting the circles. One inside the other, both flattened cleanly. No broken stalks, just bent. The inner circle was about 12 feet across. The outer: roughly 25. I took photos. Jennifer sketched. Robin collected samples of stalks and soil, and Mathew set up a magnetometer and EMF reader. The inner circle registered elevated magnetic field readings—three times background levels, according to him.
No burn marks. No debris. No odor. Caleb dug out some of the topsoil. No trace of tool impressions or wheel ruts. Josh marked compass points around the outer circle and noted the orientation aligned roughly northwest to southeast. Mathew said something about rotational flattening patterns inconsistent with a board-and-rope hoax. Robin agreed.
Vernon remained skeptical. He kept repeating, “This is wind. Wind does this.” Even after the Professor—mentioned that the pattern had shown up in a 14-hour window after three consecutive dry days. No rain. No lightning. No storm. No wind reports.
I interviewed the farmer, his wife, and their grandson. None of them saw or heard anything unusual. No lights. No noise. No strangers on the property. The wife mentioned their dog wouldn’t go near the field the morning after. Just stood at the edge whining. The grandson said the air “smelled sharp” but couldn’t explain what that meant.
By noon, we wrapped the fieldwork. Professor called it “a clean example,” and I heard Mathew mutter something about “highly coherent field displacement,” which no one asked him to explain. Robin did suggest we revisit the site at night with long-exposure cameras in case the phenomenon repeated. Professor vetoed that for now—said it’s a waste of resources without a known cycle.
Pit stop in Oakridge for food: half the group chose a diner. I stuck with those who grabbed gas station burritos and returned to the vehicles. Jennifer and Josh talked quietly about petroglyphs during the drive back. Robin fell asleep holding a sample bag. I reviewed notes and audio.
First trip down. Uneventful in the best way. The data was clean. No theatrics. Vernon still isn’t convinced anything unusual happened. But I overheard him ask Mathew later if the magnetometer was calibrated. That’s something.
Miles driven today: 165
