Brown Creeper

The birds were very busy today.   It was the third warm, sunny day in a row, with temperatures in the 40s, and I was wondering if there had perhaps been an insect hatch in the cottonwoods in front of my house, because numerous bug-eaters visited today. A female downy woodpecker, two northern flickers, and a white-breasted nuthatch all investigated the bark, but no birds were more interested in the trees than a pair of brown creepers, Certhia americana. 

Brown creepers, also called American tree creepers, are tiny little birds that blend in very well with the trees as they run up the sides.  I have only seen them a few times in town, but that just may be because they are so well camouflaged!

These birds have very long, thin bills that curve downwards to allow for probing into crevasses in the bark.  They are almost always seen heading up the side of a tree, balancing on their tails, then flying back down to the bottom to start all over again.  I watched my two visitors perform this routine numerous times during their visit late this afternoon.

Our old friend Winsor Marrett Tyler, wrote the following in the Smithsonian Bulletin of 1948 (found on birdsbybent.com): "The brown creeper, as he hitches along the bole of a tree, looks like a fragment of detached bark that is defying the law of gravitation by moving upward over the trunk, and as he flies off to another tree he resembles a little dry leaf blown about by the wind. As he climbs up the tree, he is feeding, picking up tiny bits of food that he finds half-hidden in the crevices of bark along his path. In his search he does not work like the woodpeckers, those skilled mechanics whose work requires the use of carpenter's tools, the drill and chisel. The creeper's success depends on painstaking scrutiny, thoroughness, and almost, it seems conscientiousness. Edmund Selous (1901), speaking of the European tree-creeper, a bird close to ours in habit, uses the exact word to show us the creeper at work. 'His head,' he says, 'which is as the sentient handle to a very delicate instrument, is moved with such science, such dentistry, that one feels and appreciates each turn of it.'"

And, just for kicks, here are the names of this species in some other languages (from Avibase):

Czech: šoupálek americký
German:
Andenbaumläufer
Danish:
Amerikansk Træløber
Spanish:
Agateador Americano
Finnish:
amerikanpuukiipijä
French:
Grimpereau brun
Italian:
Rampichino americano
Japanese:
amerikakibashiri
Japanese:
アメリカキバシリ
Dutch:
Amerikaanse Boomkruiper
Norwegian:
Amerikatrekryper
Polish:
pelzacz amerykanski
Slovak:
kôrovník lesný
Swedish:
Amerikansk trädkrypare
Chinese:
美洲旋木雀

Mallard

When picturing a duck, the mallard, Anas platyrhynchos, is probably what comes to mind.  The male drake, with his shiny green head, is especially iconic.  This species is the most widespread duck in the U.S., so it is not surprising that they are very familiar. 

 

Today I took a longer way home from work, detouring past a stream that runs along some undeveloped land. The creek (Spring Creek, I guess I should call it, since that is its name once it veers south from near Garfield Street to run along Spring Creek Road) must be warm from city runoff, because it doesn't seem to freeze and even provides some green vegetation in January. Last year, in February, I saw mallards on the same section of this stream. I wondered if they would nest here, but they disappeared before spring progressed very far. Today, one pair was back. 

These weren't the tame mallards of some city parks, used to stuffing themselves on handouts of bread.  Both the male and the plainer brown female were skittish and wild, swimming away from where I stood and trying to hide behind the tall, dry grass. 

The Animal Diversity Web states that the quacking sound one usually associates with ducks is made primarily by the female hen, generally to call her ducklings.  The mallards I saw today were silent.  I wonder if this couple is the same as the pair in the following photo from mid-February last year.  Notice the snow that is severely lacking this year!

Last year, the mallard flew off when I tried to get closer.  This year, I did not chase them, but let them be.  Better photographs will have to wait for tamer ducks!

Mountain Chickadee

Mountain chickadees, Poecile gambeli, are one of the most common birds I hear in the nearby mountains. Their "chika-dee-dee-dee" and "fee-bee-bay" sounds often fill the trees near trails and ski lifts.  They are fairly common birds to see, too, although they sometimes hide themselves pretty well in the foliage.  This morning, one visited my backyard feeder.  I have seen them in town before, but today was the the first time I've seen one in the yard.

Birdweb.org explains the difference between mountain chickadees and black-capped chickadees:  Mountain chickadees "have distinctive white lines above each eye, slightly longer bills, and are grayer underneath than Black-capped Chickadees."   Black-capped chickadees can be found in this area, too, but I almost always see mountain chickadees instead, and mountain chickadees are much more likely to be at higher elevations.  

Mountain chickadee males, females and youngsters all share the same markings, but I've notice that some birds seem to be grayer while other are a bit more buffy.  I'm not sure if this has to do with sex, age, time of year or the possibility of these birds being different subspecies.

Mountain chickadees are sweet and cheerful little birds that are fun to watch flitting and hopping about.  Apparently, a flock of active chickadees can be known as a 'banditry'.  It is unclear whether this name is because they steal and cache food for the winter or because of their black robber eye masks.  Regardless, the designation is pretty cute. 

According to birdguide.com, "the scientific name gambeli honors William Gambel, a 19th-century ornithologist who died of typhoid fever in the Sierra Nevada Mountains at the age of 28."  Gambel first described mountain chickadees in 1841.  The site nwbackyardbirder.blogspot.com explains how mountain chickadees may one day be known as Gambel's Chickadee.  "There is a recent proposal before the A.O.U. (American Ornithologists' Union, Committee on Classification and Nomenclature) to split Mountain Chickadee, Poecile gambeli into two species.  The new species would tentatively be called Gambel's Chickadee Poecile gambeli and Bailey's Chickadee Poecile baileyae.  The proposed Gambel’s Chickadee is found in the Great Basin and Rocky Mountains....the proposed Bailey’s Chickadee is found in coastal California, Sierra Nevada, and the Cascades of Oregon and Washington."  There is some debate over whether the two varieties have slightly different markings and calls and may actually be distinct species.  So far the verdict is still out--pending genetic testing--and this split has not happened, so I can still call my mountain friends mountain chickadees.



Soapweed Yucca

I used to think of yucca as a southwestern plant, but Soapweed yucca, Yucca glauca, is a common plant in Wyoming and throughout the high plains.  Today I saw some on a sunny southern slope west of town from which all the recent snow had already melted. 

Yuccas are only native to the Americas.  I have seen numerous species of yucca in the southwest and California, including the largest species the Joshua Tree, but soapweed yucca is the only yucca in this area.    Soapweed yucca gets its name from the roots that can be ground up and worked into a soap or shampoo.

Jim Greenwood at Naturephotograhers.net explains how soapweed yucca is adapted to its harsh environment: "The Yucca glauca is a plant that is well suited to thrive in the semi-arid climate generally found throughout its range. The word glauca is from the Latin root 'glaucus' which is defined as a bluish or greenish-gray color. Many plants have evolved with this characteristic color, which helps them to reflect the intense sunlight usually present in a semi-arid or arid climate. The soapweed yucca has evolved with many other features which enable it to survive long periods of time without a significant supply of water. The long, pointed, dagger-like spines are actually the plant's leaves....[which] have a concave, gutter-like upper surface that helps to catch and direct rain and melting snow down into the plant's roots. The roots also gather and store water in three ways. The root system consist of a large fleshy storage root, a network of small roots directly below the surface that gather water quickly before it runs off or evaporates, and a long tap root that extends as deep as three feet to collect water further down...roots can and usually do regenerate into a new plant within only a few years after the plant has been severely damaged, destroyed or removed."

Soapweed yuccas bloom in June, with a pretty column of white flowers rising from the middle of the plant.  The flowers, besides being pretty, have an interesting mutually beneficial relationship with yucca moths.  According to the US Forest Service : "Yuccas and yucca moths are the classic example of a plant and animal obligate symbiotic relationship where each organism requires the other to survive. Yucca moths are the only insects that can successfully pollinate yucca flowers and the developing yucca fruits are the only larval food source for yucca moths." 

It is only January, so I'm only dreaming of flowers.  We'll have to wait a while for either the moth or the blooms to appear.

Hairy Woodpecker

The mountains have finally gotten some snow, so today I was able to go cross-country skiing off of the groomed paths.  On a beautiful powdery trail in the quiet woods, I saw a hairy woodpecker, Picoides villosus. 

This species visits Laramie, but I tend to see these birds more often in Medicine Bow National Forest. The bird I saw today was a female, since she was lacking the red patch that males have on their heads.  She was very busy pecking her way up a tree trunk, so it was quite difficult to get a non-blurry photo.  The above picture was the best one I managed to take.  It shows her long, pointed bill.

Downy woodpeckers have similar coloring and habitat, but are much smaller--almost dainty--and have a short, petite bill.  The Chipper Woods Bird Observatory notes that the two types of woodpeckers don't really compete with each other.  Although "both species excavate and feed on wood-boring insects...Hairy Woodpeckers tend to forage on tree trunks while Downy Woodpeckers tend to feed on tree limbs." The following photo is of a male hairy woodpecker on a cottonwood tree in town.

The Sibley Guide explains the difference in the drumming sounds of the two woodpecker species.  "The drum of Hairy Woodpecker is extremely fast and buzzing, with at least 25 taps per second, but has long pauses of 20 seconds or more between drums.  Downy Woodpecker drums at a slower rate, only about 15 taps per second, and drums frequently, often with pauses of only a few seconds between each drum."  I find it pretty amazing that these birds sound different enough in their intense pecking for me to possibly be able to tell them apart.

Birdsamore.com made another interesting point:  "like all woodpeckers, they have nostril bristles that act as filters from all the sawdust they create."  I had never thought about the dust that woodpeckers must be right on top of, but it makes sense, especially if you look at the next picture of the mess a bird seems to have made in town!

Eurasian Collared-Dove

I had recently been wondering if the Eurasian collared-dove, Streptopelia decaocto, remained in Laramie for the wintertime.  I thought I saw one the other day, but couldn't be certain.  This morning while walking to work I know I spotted three out in the morning sunshine. 

This species is an invasive marvel. Released in the Bahamas in the 70s, they reached Florida in the 80s (it seems to be unclear whether they had help with that move) and from there spread rapidly north and west. They are now fairly common all the way to the Pacific Northwest and have even reached Alaska. Their adaptational skills are remarkable; to have established themselves in so many different parts of the country so quickly takes some nerve! Since their arrival has been fairly recent, scientists have not determined whether they are damaging native bird populations or whether they are filling the gaps left by extinct species like the passenger pigeon.

Wild Birds Unlimited's Chipper Woods Observatory website explains the origin of this species' scientific name:  "Streptopelia decaocto, literally means a collar (streptos) dove (peleia). In Greek mythology, Decaocto was an overworked, underpaid servant girl. The gods heard her prayers for help and changed her into a dove so she could escape her misery. The dove’s call still echoes the mournful cries of her former life."

Just to be accurate, the bird's collar is really only half of one.  The black and white neck markings do not connect over the throat.  But I guess the genus name was long enough without adding 'hemi' or 'semi'.

The Cornell Lab of Ornithology states:  "Eurasian Collared-Doves are one of very few species that can drink 'head down,' submerging their bills and sucking water as though drinking through a straw. Most birds must scoop water and tip the head back to let it run down into the throat." I'm not sure how useful this adaptation has been in their territorial expansion, but it's interesting nonetheless.

Elegant Sunburst Lichen

I find lichens very difficult to identify, especially since there don't seem to be the same kinds of resources available online as the ones that help me identify birds and wildflowers.  I guess lichens are under-appreciated, but they are certainly interesting and even pretty, like the bright orange of the elegant sunburst lichen, Xanthoria elegans.  At least that's what I think this lichen is.

The colors of lichens are neat when viewed from a distance, but they become even more interesting when you get up close.  More variations in hue and texture can be seen, and these organisms exhibit more intricacy than expected.  What exactly is lichen?  See my blog post on  map lichen for more on that.

The USDA plants database calls this species the 'elegant orange wall lichen', which is not a terrible common name.  I have seen this lichen (or what I think is this lichen--I need a lichen expert to educate me!) on exposed stone both in town and in the mountains.  Wall or rock, it doesn't seem to mind.  At least I think it doesn't. 

Northern Flicker

The northern flicker, Colaptes auratus, is a beautiful bird. I am very fond of this species that frequents Laramie and the nearby forested areas all year long.  According to allaboutbirds.org, flickers are strongly migratory, so I guess this means that the flickers I see now will head up to Canada for the summer, while those I'll see during the summer are now enjoying life south of here.

The flicker of the western U.S. is called 'red-shafted' because of the reddish coloring on the underside of the wings. Eastern birds are 'yellow-shafted', but these different colored birds can breed and form hybrids in overlapping territories, so they are not different species.

While on hikes, I have often startled hidden flickers, earning only a glimpse of reddish-brown wings and a white rump as the bird flees in a distinctive flight with a rushing sound. "Flickers do fly like most woodpeckers do, rising and falling smoothly as they intersperse periods of flapping with gliding," notes the Cornell Lab of Ornithology.

Although flickers are woodpeckers, they often feed on the ground, eating ants and beetles.  That's not to say they're not at home in the trees, though.  They are perfectly content to spend an afternoon drumming on a tree like any other woodpecker, either to make a nest hole or to loudly proclaim their territory. 

Like pileated woodpeckers (which are not found in Wyoming), flickers are capable of numerous very loud calls that almost sound like they were made by laughing monkeys (more flying monkeys!). According to Wikipedia, there are many nicknames for flickers, including "yellowhammer, clape, gaffer woodpecker, harry-wicket, heigh-ho, wake-up, walk-up, wick-up, yarrup, and gawker bird. Many of these names are attempts at imitating some of its calls." 

Reading transcriptions of bird calls can be an amusing pasttime.  From the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife:  "Flickers can also be identified by their loud call that sounds like wake-up, wake-up, wake-up; also a piercing, sharply descending peeahr."  Or, from the Animal Diversity Web:  "Their song is a loud 'wick wick wick wick wick,' while individual notes sound like a loud 'klee-yer' and a squeaky 'flick-a flick-a flick-a' (Peterson 1967)."   On the other hand, Birdzilla.com suggests that the calls are more like "a sharp 'keek!' and a prolonged 'week-week-week' or 'kik-kik-kik'."

Their calls are very distinctive, however you want to spell them.  Their coloring is also unique and absolutely beautiful.  This species and the downy woodpecker often take turns drumming around my house, and I am thrilled to have these special neighbors.

Englemann Spruce

The englemann spruce, Picea engelmannii, is a very common high altitude tree in this region.   Utah State University describes this species as follows:  "Engelmann spruce is found in some of the highest and coldest forest environments in the western United States, characterized by long, cold winters with heavy snowpack and short, cool summers. It extends down to lower elevations along stream bottoms where cold air flows down the valley and collects in localized frost pockets. Generally found on moist and cool sites, but at timberline it may occur on somewhat dry sites. At middle elevations, pure stands are usually found on alluvial terraces, wet benches, bottomlands, slopes with seeps or cold north or east aspects. It occurs on all aspects at timberline, and grows in clumps called tree islands.  Stands of Engelmann spruce will establish themselves under other forest types such as aspen or lodgepole pine because it is shade tolerant." At times one can stand in a valley and see only engelmann spruce trees on a north facing slope and only other sun-loving species like lodgepole pine on the south facing slope.  It is one way to tell direction in the mountains!

Englemann spruce often grow in the same areas as subalpine fir, and I sometimes have trouble telling them apart.  Again, cones are very helpful with identification.  The cones of the englemann spruce hang downwards, unlike those of the fir, and they are larger with more open, thin, jagged-tipped scales.  The following picture was taken in the summer high in the Snowy Range.

Englemann spruce are often the last species of tree to see hiking towards timberline.  At these altitudes they can be quite wind-battered and shrubby.  They can form low, bent krummholz (from the German for 'crooked wood') or banner trees, in which the branches only remain on the leeward side.  Other species of trees can also become krummholz, but this is one of the more common species to do so in this area.

George Engelmann was a botonist of the 1800s who was instrumental in describing and categorizing many plants of the west.  According to swcoloradowildflowers.com, this species was named in his honor by Charles Parry, the 'king of Colorado botany' who in turn has eighty species named after him!

Common Raven

The raven, Corvus corax, is a very common bird in Wyoming, even in the middle of winter.  According to Wikipedia, the American common raven is also known as the northern raven and is categorized as the subspecies principalis.  Ravens soar, singly or in pairs, over the open spaces near Laramie, regardless of the cold.  While the smaller crows tend to stay near town, if you see a large black bird up in the mountains, it is likely a raven.  It may even be playing in the snow!

Ravens are great fliers, always seeming to enjoy the air currents while perfecting their acrobatic stunts.  Today, even in winds gusting over 50 mph, I saw ravens in the air.  One was nearly stationary, but he still managed to stay aloft.  The following photo was taken in the summer at the summit of Medicine Bow Peak, where a pair of ravens were having loads of fun diving straight down and soaring back up again.



In a previous blog I mentioned some differences between crows and ravens, including their tails.  In the following picture, the wedge shape of the raven's tail is very apparent.  Crow tails are fanned.

This species is another clever animal, not only showing evidence of play but of problem solving as well.  The PBS show "Nature" has a short video clip of an excellent example of this bird's mind:  video-raven-intelligence

An article by Loren Haury on the Desert Foundation website states:  "Second only to macaws in intelligence, ravens have a brain mass to body mass ratio similar to that of primates. As John Marzluff writes, 'Mentally, crows and ravens are more like flying monkeys than they are like other birds. This means they are able to learn, remember, and use insight to solve natural and human challenges'. They use tools to get food or escape cages and practice deceit to protect food caches from theft by other ravens."  

Flying monkeys! 

House Finch

Today I saw my first house finch of the year. The house finch, Carpodacus mexicanus, is supposedly a native, year-round resident of this area, but I have commonly only seen them in the spring and summer.  I put out fresh birdseed today and noticed a single male this afternoon.

House finches seem to be city birds in this area, as their name would indicate.  I have never seen them in the nearby forest or mountains.  They are one of the most common birds to come to bird feeders around the country, according to numerous sources, and have been introduced throughout the east coast.

After having his snack, today's finch settled into the shrubbery, fluffed out his feathers and had a bit of a rest. 

Male house sparrows generally have red heads, chests and rumps, but they can occasionally be yellow or orange like this yellowish one I spotted on a gray day last year.   As in any red or yellow-colored bird, the pigment is not innate to the feathers but is obtained from carotenoids in a diet of seeds and fruit, with the females (according to wbu.com) seeming to prefer brighter red males.  Robert S. Woods quoted on birdsbybent.com reported that these birds, also called linnets, may need several years to develop the brighter red plumage.  So this yellow fellow may be a youngster that may yet get his chance to be red!

House finches are often seen with other species of birds, but can be aggressive about their food.  I have seen these finches chase pine siskins off of my feeder.  The solo finch today was with a few male house sparrows who he seemed to be tolerating.  I guess their company was better than no company!

Pronghorn

Prong! Four plus years in Wyoming has not been long enough to reduce my excitement about the pronghorn, Antilocapra americana.   I love spotting these guys on the sagebrush prairie on all sides of town.  They even sometimes come into town, where empty fields still provide grazing opportunities.  I have seen pronghorn droppings on the manicured lawn of the hospital and have seen the creatures themselves just across the street from Albertson's grocery store.  I get a thrill to see them, whether I am walking or driving around the area. 

This species is sometimes referred to as 'antelope', as in the song Home on the Range, but this is a unique animal not at all related at to the antelopes of Africa. The scientific name (according to desertusa.com) means "American antelope goat," but this animal is not a goat, either. 

Pronghorn don't exhibit the graceful jumping skills of antelope, goats or deer.  Their legs are developed for running more than jumping, and they will usually crawl under a fence rather than jump over it.  They do much better on their long migrations, therefore, when there are wide open spaces with no fences.  In the following picture a male pronghorn overlooks his harem in an open space within Laramie's city limits--land that I fear will soon be filled with subdivisions.

Desertusa.com goes on to say:  "The Pronghorn is the only animal in the world with branched horns (not antlers) and the only animal in the world to shed its horns, as if they were antlers."  Not only that, but both sexes can have these horns, not just the males.  About a third of females have horns, though their horns are smaller than their ears and rarely have prongs.  Males are distinguishable by both the pronged horns and the dark cheek patches that females lack.

Pronghorn have a unusual reproductive system that results in twins as a matter of course.  The young are born in early June or so, and are specially adapted to hide on the ground with no scent or movement until they are able to run from predators.  Before their first week is out they can outrun a person.   And look how cute!

Pronghorn are fast and can maintain their high speeds for very long distances.  They evolved to outrun the cheetah-like predator that used to roam the high plains with them.  I once drove along a gravel road as pronghorn ran beside me.  I was going about 35 mph.  The pronghorn were only jogging casually, and they outpaced the car.  To me, nothing captures the wildness of the west like Pronghorn bucks running through the sagebrush in early summer.

Dark-eyed Junco

The dark-eyed junco, Junco hyemalis, is a lovely little bird.  This species is another that manages to thrive in the Wyoming winter.  They can be very commonly seen hopping around on the forest floor in this part of the country, and they occasionally show up in town, too.  This picture was taken in my backyard last April.

Allaboutbirds.org explains the "huge range of geographic variation in the dark-eyed junco. Among the 15 described races, six forms are easily recognizable in the field and five used to be considered separate species until the 1980s."   The above bird is the 'pink-sided' (mearnsi) variety of the Rocky Mountains and western plains, which is the race that stays here for the winter.  I am also fond of the brown-hooded 'Oregon' race of junco (oreganus), which I have only seen in the Pacific Northwest.  Here's a picture of a cute little Oregon junco taken in Eugene, Oregon back when my camera didn't have much zoom power.  You can just barely make out his dark hood.

The third variety that I am familiar with is the gray-headed race (caniceps).  In the photo below, which was taken last July near the Continental Divide in Northern Colorado, you can make out his gray head as well as the orange patch on his back.  This variety, according to wbu.com, nests above 7000 feet between March and August, but spends the rest of the year in the southwest.  He is a snowbird!

The best way to distinguish this bird as a junco, regardless of variety, is by its white outer tail feathers that flash in flight.  But after getting to know this species, one starts to recognize its round little body and pinkish bill as well.  These birds are often friendly companions to a hike in the woods.

Golden Eagle

I see a lot of birds while driving, and since I'm at the wheel, I can usually do no better than guess 'raven' or 'some kind of hawk' as identification. There's no breaking out the binoculars at 65 mph. But today, just north of Fort Collins, CO, I saw a bird so large, soaring above the foothills, that it could only have been a golden eagle, Aquila chrysaetos.

The golden eagle is another brave creature that sticks around the Front Range for the winter.  The one I saw today seemed to be suffering the harassment of a much smaller bird that looked like a hawk of some kind (again, drive-by analysis).  I wonder if the eagle just moved on or got so annoyed that it chose to eat the smaller bird.  Nature raises such questions.

The only photo I have of a golden eagle was taken last summer.  I was driving, but it was on such a bumpy dirt road that I was only going about 20 mph at best.  Therefore, it was much easier to stop and get this shot than on a highway.

The only golden eagles I have seen perched have chosen spots so far away I could only watch them through high powered lenses.  Otherwise, they are soaring.  

The U.S. Forest Service warns of humans affecting eagle populations:  "Golden eagles are sensitive to human disturbance and are likely to abandon their nests during the incubation period if disturbed.  Human disturbance was responsible for 85 percent of golden eagle nesting failures along the Front Range of the Rockies in Wyoming, Colorado, and New Mexico.  Placing seasonal restrictions on recreational activities and limiting human access in nesting areas can minimize the chance of disturbance."  The Front Range has numerous seasonal closures for nesting raptors, which I am always encouraged to see.

Eagles tend to eat small mammals like rabbits, but they can bring down large game if hungry enough.  There is a haunting YouTube video of a golden eagle seizing a bighorn sheep by the rear leg and dragging it off a cliff, knowing it will enjoy a feast when the sheep hits the bottom.  Since the video I saw was pretty brutal, I'm not attaching a link.  Suffice it to say, these are pretty awesome predators.  You can't help but admire their graceful strength.

Douglas-fir

Douglas-fir trees, Pseudotsuga menziesii, always remind me of Oregon.  The name just brings to mind the massive giants of the Cascades, but the doug firs in the mountain west never seemed the same as those.  I used to think that the noticeable differences were simply due to the climate, the altitude and cold of Wyoming producing smaller, less robust specimens than the moisture of the northwest. Today, I found out otherwise:  rocky mountain douglas-fir is a separate subspecies (var. glauca) from the coast variety (var. menziesii).  There is even some debate over whether they are two distinct species.
Doug firs are a problem in other ways, too.  They are not true firs, since, though their needles are similar, their cones hang downwards instead of upwards.   That's why they get their special hyphen, to differentiate from real firs. 

Westernexplorers.us states that the local douglas-fir's variety name glauca "refers to a whitish cast over the blue-green color which is slightly different from the green needles of the Douglas fir of the west coast." (I notice that they forgot the special hyphen.)  Conifers.org explains that the bark of the rocky mountain trees is "often rough and black compared to the typically brown, often flaky bark on the coastal variety".  These are some of the distinctions that tended to hinder my identification, so I was pleased to learn of them.  Some websites described the smell of a broken branch to be citrusy, but I dislike the idea of purposely breaking the branch of a live tree to test this!

I am only ever confident of my identification of these trees when cones are present.  Douglas fir cones are unique in that they are the only cones that have pointy bracts hanging down.  Various websites described one of these bracts as resembling the rear feet and tail of a mouse hiding under the scales of the cones.  I find this someone dubious, but now I know I will see little scaredy mice whenever I see a Douglas-fir cone.

European Starling

It finally snowed today while I was at work, and my walk home was through about an inch and a half of light powder.  The crows were jubilant, cawing and circling all over town.  But also out enjoying the fresh snow and brisk breeze were European Starlings, Sturnus vulgaris.  I did not get a photo today because I have yet to master the art of photographing birds on the wing, not to mention that it was cold and gray, so I probably would not have achieved the best picture of even a stationary bird.   I do have a starling photo that I took last spring, so we'll all just have to be content with that.

The common starling was intentionally introduced into New York's Central Park in the 1890s by someone who wanted the Americas to have all the birdlife mentioned in Shakespeare.  While I'm all for being a fan of Shakepeare's work, this strikes me as a pretty ridiculous idea.  The starlings found the new world to their liking and spread across the continent with ease.  Allaboutbirds.org relates that starlings found in the west are still genetically similar to those found on the east coast.  Lack of genetic variation often leads to trouble for a species, but starlings seem to be having no trouble thriving, especially in human environments.

The starling has an unusual beak, described here by Stanford University's website:

 

"The European Starling has jaw muscles that work 'backward.' Instead of using most of their power to clamp the bill shut, these muscles use it to spring the bill open. Thus the bill functions not just to grip prey but also to pry apart obscuring plants. The closed bill is inserted between blades of grass in thick turf or other cover, and then sprung open to expose hidden prey. As the bill opens, the eyes move forward toward each other, permitting binocular vision. This readily observed foraging technique enables the starling to detect not only active prey but also dormant or stationary prey, as well. William Beecher, who made this discovery during a seven-year study of songbird head musculature and skull adaptations, suggests that this unique hunting maneuver was also key to the high rate of survival of starlings during winter." 

   

Starlings can mimic the songs of other birds, and I have heard starlings making squeaks like a rusted out car.  They can even be taught to imitate human speech, as seen in this video:  youtube talking starling

Common Bearberry

Today I visited the Snowy Range, driving as high as possible in the wintertime. Parking in the last small lot before the road closure gate, I found the pavement to be mostly dry and free from snow.  The forested areas to the north, however, had a couple feet of snow, so I went for a nice snowshoe up through the trees. At one point I climbed to a ridge--with a great view of Medicine Bow Peak and the Snowies--that was practically bare of snow. I removed my snowshoes and walked for a while, noticing the ground cover. Along with some mosses and lichens and common juniper, I found spreading mats of common bearberry, Arctostaphylos uva-ursi. The Latin means 'bear grape', because the berries of this shrub are an important food source for bears.

I was very surprised to still see some of the bright red berries on the shrub, but rook.org's flora webpage states that the berries that have not been devoured by bears and birds in the fall often survive until spring, generally protected under the snow.  Bears are quite happy to eat them again when they emerge from hibernation.

Bearberry is one of my favorite native shrubs.  The shiny green leaves are pretty year-round, and the red berries are festive.  When the plant blooms in May or June, the flowers are beautiful, dainty, pink bunches.

I have often heard this plant referred to as kinnikinnick, but several websites indicated that that term does not refer solely to this plant.  Kinnikinnick is really an Algonquan word meaning mixture, since some Indians enjoyed smoking a blend of bearberry and tobacco.