The Monkees

This is not a blog fail.  Leap Day, February 29th, isn't a real day anyway.  So that must be why I didn't see anything new outside to write about.  But monkeys are a new species....

I always dug the band The Monkees. I have some of their tunes on my iPod which make me smile whenever they come up on shuffle.  I loved the More of the Monkees album when I was a kid.  I used to put the LP on my record player on a regular basis, and I did not grow up in the 60s.  Or the 70s.  My elementary school best friend and I watched the reruns of the Monkees' TV show and thought it was hilarious.  She was a Micky Dolenz fan, but I always liked Davy Jones.  He was British.

Unlikely Picnic Partners

Today was snowy and gray and the wildlife was hungry. My suet feeder is continuing to be very popular. The white-breasted nuthatch and brown creeper visited again today, and the fox squirrels and crows were vying for the bits that had fallen to the ground.   The crow seemed very suspicious of the squirrel, though I'm not sure what the squirrel could do to him.

They were both quite jumpy and startled each other more than once.

I'm really not sure why the crow was nervous of the squirrel.  He has that nice sharp beak, but perhaps squirrel claws are sharp, too!

I think the crow is the juvenile that I have recently been noticing out front.  The squirrel looks very young as well.  Perhaps they have yet to figure out their places in the animal hierarchy.  They were very entertaining to watch competing for suet crumbs.

My northern flicker friend was back again, too, eating even while the snow was flying.  I am including a picture of him yet again, because this is the first photo I have gotten that shows the red-shafted tail feathers.  In the eastern U.S., the bird has yellow instead of red on the wings and tail.

This blog seems to have half-way turned into a 'What's Visiting My Feeders?' website.  I am still trying to find new species every day, but with the snow covering most vegetation and spring still far away at this altitude, I am not having huge success.  So I plan to enjoy my winter visitors as much as possible!

Creature Evidence

I haven't seen any new species to blog about recently, but I have been seeing evidence of creatures, even in seemingly empty parks or woods.   Keeping an observant eye out often leads to noticing areas where animals have fed or reproduced or otherwise left their mark.  I have seen numerous old bird nests in the winter trees, waiting to be used again in the spring or to be disintegrated by the elements.  This bird nest in a pine had the nearby bark removed, leading me to think that, perhaps, the eggs once made a meal for some crafty carnivore.

Woodpeckers leave evidence of their search for insects, too.  This dead tree must have once contained some tasty bugs, because it had been pecked to the core in numerous places.

Woodpeckers aren't always so messy.  Sometimes they create perfectly round, pretty cavities in trees like in the center of the following picture.  Every time I pass this tree, I always hope to see some cute critter stick his head out of this hole, but it has yet to happen.

Birds aren't the only creatures to leave their marks.  In several forests in the area, I have seen claw marks on aspen trees that look to me like the work of black bears.  They are likely pretty old, as the bears should still be sleeping the winter away, but it is very cool to see signs that more is going on in the quiet woods than I may be seeing on a particular day.

Wind-blown Birds

Though the sun was shining today, the winds remained awful and the temperatures stayed well below freezing.  I did not feel like venturing far from home--yes, I wimped out, but this extreme wind has gotten way old--so I spent some time watching a male northern flicker who stayed around one of the cottonwood trees out front for the better part of the day. 

I couldn't help feeling sorry for him with his wind-blown and rumpled feathers.  When he wasn't feeding on suet or bugs, he scooted up the cottonwood and rested on the leeward side, which still had a stiff enough breeze to keep his feathers in a mess.  I wondered if he would have trouble getting them all back in order and how it would affect his flying ability.

Also sharing the same cottonwood today was a white-breasted nuthatch, who managed to keep his feathers in a little better order.  Less surface area, perhaps.  He seemed hungry, too, and it was interesting to watch the way he seemed to take turns with the flicker on the lower part of the tree near the suet.  (A previous resident found it necessary to bang a large nail into the side of this cottonwood.  While I would never treat a living tree in this manner, the cottonwood seems to be doing okay.  I have recently hung a suet feeder from the nail, which is a good nine feet from the ground, and have now seen these birds visiting much more often.)

The house sparrows, mountain chickadees, and house finches all seemed to be trying to stay low in the shrubberies and avoid as much of the wind as possible as they fed.  They preferred pecking the fallen seed off the ground to flying up to the feeders.  A brown creeper tried the suet, but soon abandoned the area (for a more sheltered spot, I hope).  The only birds that didn't seem to mind the weather were the crows.  A bunch of them played in the street this afternoon once enough cars had driven by to melt some of the snow and ice.  I guess that's fresh drinking water on a day like this.

So Much Lichen

The more I notice lichen, the more types of lichen there seem to be!  I am not finding them any easier to identify, but they are cool to look at.  The gray foliose tree lichen below may be smooth shadow lichen, Phaeophyscia ciliata.  It has lots of interesting shapes to it, and seems very widespread in this area.

I'm not sure what the brown lichen is, but it and the gray species can cover entire dead tree trunks.

Tufted lichen can also be found growing alongside the shadow lichen.  I think this green species is called witch's hair, Alectoria sarmentosa.

Not only do trees have numerous lichen species on their trunks and branches, but large rocks and boulders also seems to sport a variety of lichen life.  I noticed an almost neon-colored rock lichen along with the map lichen and elegant sunburst lichen that I have noted before.  This green rock lichen may be Schleicher's cracked lichen, Acarospora schleicheri.

I'm not sure that I'm learning all that much about lichen through this blog, but it is at least a good exercise in being observant.

On Noticing Nature

I did spend some time outdoors today, but the gusty wind that burned my face kept many critters out of sight, and the recent snow covered other potentially interesting sights.  I still said 'hi' to the crow eating a tasty tidbit on one corner and to the Eurasian-collared dove hunkered down in a tree.  I did not spot any new species to blog about.  I went home to continue reading a library book that I am enjoying, The Desert Year by Joseph Wood Krutch. 

Mr. Krutch eloquently describes just what I am attempting to do with my blog, that is, pay attention to the natural world that we can easily walk (or more likely drive) right past. So, while I didn't notice anything new today, I did happily watch a northern flicker visit my suet feeder and enjoyed the strong, sure movements of his long beak and the way the sunlight shone on his colorful plumage. 

Krutch writes: "My own homely technique when I walk out in my own country and realize that I am in danger of seeing nothing at all is simply to greet each thing as it comes along, by name if I know it...usually, if the thing is not too common, I stop a moment to pass the time of day with it, much as one does with an acquaintance met on the street. 'A nice day--for frogs,' I may remark pleasantly; or, perhaps, 'I don't think I've seen you since last summer.'  The plants and animals to whom I issue such bits of conversational small change are not any more interested or impressed than the people to whom one says the same things, but neither are they much less so.  And in both cases the purpose achieved is much the same.  I have noticed them; sometimes they have noticed me; and I am reminded of something which a certain kind of person is rather prone to forget--that there are other creatures in the world beside himself."

So I am not the only person crazy enough to say, "Hello, Mr. Chickadee," or to thank the trees for their help when I grab onto them for balance.  I am not the first to be excited by visits from the local white-breasted nuthatch.  And, I am probably not the only one to take photos of the city birds that most people usually ignore.

But, look at them, all lined up.  Some are bunched together like cuddling friends, while other retain their personal space.  And the one closest to me has his neck extended to check me out just like I am watching him.  To me that's a good photo.  And, like Krutch says, "In nature, one never really sees a thing for the first time until one has seen it for the fiftieth."  There still might be things to observe about the ubiquitous house sparrow.  Who knows?

Merlin

As I was leaving work this afternoon, an unusual-looking bird flew above me.  It was hawk-like and fairly small--about the size of a dove--and my first thought was of a kestrel.  Last spring I saw two beautiful kestrels while on a hike in Northern Colorado, but today's bird didn't have the kestrel's striking coloring or graceful appearance.  The bird that passed quickly over my head this afternoon (as I was still adjusting my mittens and putting on my sunglasses and thus unable to gather myself together enough to pull out my camera) was light-colored with brown, or, since I only saw it from underneath, I should say its undersides were light-colored with some brown.  It had very pointed, angled wings that it flapped very rapidly.  My best guess is that I saw a merlin, Falco columbarius, and probably the prairie subspecies richardsonii.

According to sdakotabirds.com, the merlin is "a small, fast falcon which catches its main prey (small birds) in flight. Merlins have become adapted to living in urban areas and may overwinter in cities, taking advantage of the steady supply of House Sparrows and Rock Doves (pigeons) that urban centers provide."  Laramie has no shortage of those smaller birds, so perhaps the merlin had come to town to feast.  The Cornell Lab of Ornithology adds, "one species of falcon, merlin, eats so many pigeons its scientific name is Falco columbarius (with the "columba-" meaning pigeon) and it was formerly called Pigeon Hawk."

Although this identification isn't a sure thing (photographic evidence would be nice), it seems like a good possibility.  In any case, now I know a bit more about another raptor, which can only help in my birdwatching future.

Wyoming Wind

The wind is blasting like mad today, with sustained speeds between 40 and 50 mph and gusts well above 60.  The major roads were closed for better portions of the last few days and several the city-issued garbage and recycling bins have been knocked over in the alleyway.  The young crow that often visits was looking decidedly rumpled, and a poor little brown creeper's feathers were mussed as he unsuccessfully tried to find a wind-block in the cottonwood tree.  Tumbleweeds roll through parking lots.  Temps have warmed up into the low 40s, so the snow is turning to sheets of ice.  It is very unpleasant outside.

I know that Wyoming is a windy place, but today seems a little extreme.  The house is creaking with each gust.  Generally, the wind seems to bring with it some blue skies, but today it is grey and ugly.

I found a website, enotes.com, on which someone asked if Chicago was indeed the windiest city.  Answer:  "In 1990, Chicago ranked twenty-first in the list of 68 windy cities, with an average wind speed of 10.3 miles (16.6 kilometers) per hour. Cheyenne, Wyoming, with an average wind speed of 12.9 miles ( 20.8 kilometers) per hour, ranks number one. It is closely followed by Great Falls, Montana, which has an average wind speed of 12.8 miles (20.6 kilometers) per hour."  Other sites have Casper, WY edging out Cheyenne as a windier city.  Medicine Bow, a small town west of Laramie made famous as the setting of The Virginian, claims to be the windiest place in all Wyoming.  Since they have a huge field of wind turbines, they are probably not exaggerating.

Ponderosa Pine

It's time to leave the birdwatching for a bit to blog about one of my favorite conifers, the ponderosa pine, Pinus ponderosa, or, more specifically, Rocky Mountain ponderosa pine, var. scopulorum. 

Also known as the western yellow pine or the blackjack pine, this species is most identifiable to me by its red-orange bark that seems split into pieces.  Only trees over a hundred years old have this type of bark, though, and the fact that they usually lack branches on the lower sections makes the bark more noticeable.  Younger trees have grayish bark, which is less distinctive. 

More reliable indentification features are the very long needles in groups of two or three and the large, attractive cones with a point at the end of each scale.

The pollen cones (strobili) are yellow, flower-like and pretty. 

Conifers.org describes this species as "widely encountered throughout most of its range....dense and continuous stands may be seen in the Black Hills of South Dakota, so named for the dense stands of ponderosa covering their slopes. Exceptionally old and picturesque trees may be found throughout the deserts of southeast Utah, particularly on the lower slopes of the Abajo and La Sal Mountains; and at Vedauwoo in southeast Wyoming."  The following photo is of a very cool, twisted pine growing almost out of a rock at Vedauwoo.

I've seen the largest ponderosas in this region in Northern Colorado's Poudre River valley.  It's ponderous size is enough to turn anyone into a tree hugger.

Bird Banding

I have been watching two male house finches visit my feeder fairly often, but today the ladies finally made their appearance.  I'm not sure what invitation they were waiting for, but at least three of them finally got it, and they didn't seem to have any trouble figuring out the sock feeder, either.  They had no qualms about pushing around those clueless guys.  They may not have the pretty red plumage, but they're no-nonsense.

In the late afternoon, I noticed a female that had colored bands around both legs.  I assumed that she was part of a research project, but the Internet wasn't forthcoming with an easy answer.  Finally, I stumbled upon the USGS's Patuxent Wildlife Research Center, which has a Bird Banding Program.   They have a detailed website allowing reports concerning birds with leg bands.

This finch had bands on both legs, and I submitted a report on her.  I received an instant email in return, stating: "These markers are used by researchers to address many questions regarding bird movements and other aspects of their life history. They enable researchers to track movements of individual banded birds without the need to recapture them. The banding and color marking of birds is conducted by a variety of researchers, some with State, Federal, NGO, or university affiliations. Our office authorizes these projects, but is not directly involved in them," but they acknowledged that the data would be followed up on and that the researchers might--in a best case scenario--let me know the nature of their project if they were able to identify the individual bird.

The silver band, if it is a federal one, should be numbered, but I could not see enough detail to make out a number.  I hope this bird is part of research project that is worth the stress of being captured and having to live with the leg bands (I read on one website that if the bands are applied improperly, they can cause physical harm or become stuck on things).  This bird seemed healthy, and I can only hope she was handled by the scientists that follow the research center's posted code of ethics and that the information she provides leads to interesting results.

I am curious to find if I will hear any more about this little bird and her adventures.  I will also definitely be on the lookout for any more banded birds!

Black-capped Chickadee

Walking down by the river on the Laramie Greenbelt, I heard a chickadee call that sounded a little different to the ones I had lately been hearing.  In the nearby bushes, five black-capped chickadees, Poecile atricapillus, were feeding.

A separate species to the western mountain chickadees that have been visiting my house (see my bird update) and keeping me entertained during my cross-country ski outings, the range of the black-capped chickadee extends all the way through the northern U.S. to the east coast. They are the state bird of both Maine and Massachusetts.

Black-capped chickadees have a solid cap that reaches down to their eyes, unlike the white eyebrow stripe of the mountain chickadees. These birds also have more tan on their sides and prefer shrubby trees and streamside environments to the coniferous woods that the mountain chickadees seem to like. I also think they have a slighter build.  So far, they have not yet discovered my feeders, but perhaps it is only a matter of time!

Great Backyard Bird Count

I've done my part for the Great Backyard Bird Count today, spending perhaps too much time staring out the windows and keeping track of local birds.  The birdcount website is fun to visit, since you can find out what birds are being observed all over the country by exploring the maps or other statistics.  I like to follow Wyoming's stats, but, so far, it doesn't seem like too many Wyomingites are participating this year.

While I didn't see any surprising or unusual bird visitors today, the front and back feeders were quite busy.  I was glad that my two little brown creeper friends returned to examine the cottonwoods out front.  A lovely northern flicker even visited the front porch before he, too, flew off to peck at the cottonwoods.

Also busy on the front porch were the mountain chickadees.  Three came to the front feeder at once, which is the most I have seen around the house.  I guess word about my birdfeeders is spreading!

A huge plus on this birding day was that the house finches finally started using the finch sock feeder that I bought especially for them.  It had been untouched for weeks until today when a mountain chickadee climbed onto it in full view of a male house finch.  The lightbulb must have turned on in the little finch's brain, because he almost immediately clung to the sock as well and started eating.  And not long later, a second male house finch (who had also been watching) hopped up.  I wonder if they were scared of the sock or just not bright enough to understand how to use it.  I am grateful to the smart, perky little chickadee who showed the way.

The house sparrows, though, were the most numerous visitors of the day, as I expected.  In fact, they are still hopping and chirping around the house even as the sun starts to go down.  I took this kind of fun shot of a male sparrow taking off above another sparrow, in which it looks like one bird has two tails.  The shadow tells the truth.

The other visitors today were not birds, but were still pretty cute.

Rough-legged Hawk

Today, on a quiet Colorado highway, I encountered two new species for my blog, the coyote and the rough-legged hawk, Buteo lagopus.  I couldn't decide which to write about, so February 17th will have two entries.  How exciting!

Yesterday I bemoaned my difficulty with hawk identification and my trouble with acquiring decent pictures of them.  Today, my main man managed to snap a couple of excellent identification pictures of this raptor on a roadside telephone pole when I stopped the car on a quiet road.  

According to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, "The name 'Rough-legged' Hawk refers to the feathered legs. The Rough-legged Hawk, the Ferruginous Hawk, and the Golden Eagle are the only American hawks to have legs feathered all the way to the toes." 

After these portraits were taken, this raptor took off from the perch, flew low over the open scrubland and even hovered in place for a moment.  The U.S. Forest Service states that this is very common hunting behavior for this species:  "The rough-legged hawk frequently hovers over one spot at an altitude of 50 to 132 feet.  There is also an appreciable amount of low-altitude flap and glide hunting for mice; a rough-legged hawk often will quarter back and forth over open fields."

I am glad to have seen this bird before it flies off on its spring migration.  Only in this area for the winter, its summer breeding range is north in the arctic tundra.

Coyote

This morning, my main man and I were on the road early on our way to a day on the slopes in Colorado.  The sunrise was a beautiful orange and pink, which this picture gives an impression of, but like many photographs, it doesn't quite capture how impressive the sky was in the moment.

Not long after that pretty start to the day, I spotted a coyote, Canis latrans, prowling the sagebrush prairie on the side of the road.  It wasn't light enough for photography (with my camera) and the road was not suitable for stopping, so I chalked it up to a cool (if brief) sighting and continued on the way.  After a great day of skiing, I took a different route home, and, in the early evening, saw a different coyote (this coyote was a good hundred miles from where I saw the other one, so I'm calling it a different one).  Since this road was empty and suitable for stopping the car, I managed to snap a quick shot before the coyote trotted away from the roadside.

Coyotes are very adaptable creatures, who will eat almost anything--though they seem to prefer meat--and have managed to adjust to life near human development.  Unlike wolves, coyotes sometimes live alone or only in pairs, though they do sometimes form small packs of related animals.  I have only ever seen coyotes one at a time.

I have read that coyotes have been known to form hunting collaborations with badgers, with the badgers digging out prey like prairie dogs when the rodents escape underground and coyotes capturing the critters if they run away above ground.  If the prey manages to avoid one species of predator, the other one potentially gets it. 

This coyote wanted nothing to do with me (and my big, scary car) and was on the move as soon as I slowed down.  I hope I didn't deprive him of a meal.  I didn't see any badgers around to help with his dinner.

Northern Harrier

Okay, today's photo is a really terrible picture, but I have mentioned before the problems I have with catching birds in motion.  Even though I didn't get a good photo op,  I saw this guy fairly close up, swooping low over the prairie, and I think he is a male northern harrier, Cicrus cyaneus.

There are much better photos and a good video that give a better idea of this graceful raptor.

Audubonbirds.org gives a good synopsis:  "This is the only North American member of a group of hawks known as harriers. All hunt by flying close to the ground and taking small animals by surprise. They seldom pursue their prey in the air or watch quietly from an exposed perch, as do other birds of prey. Harriers have keener hearing than other hawks; their disk-shaped faces, not unlike those of owls, enable them to amplify sound. This species is often known as the Marsh Hawk."

Whatbird.com has some other interesting info:  "The common name, harrier, is from the Old English word 'herigan' and means to harass or plunder.  Their species name, Circus cyaneus, comes from the Greek word 'kirkos', meaning circle and the word 'cyan' which is a shade of blue. These refer to the Northern Harrier’s flight pattern while hunting and the color of the male bird.  A group of harriers has many collective nouns, including a 'swarm' and a 'harassment' of harriers."

I hope to become better at identifying hawks this year.  And hopefully get some decent photos, too.

Pigeon for Breakfast

In blogging about nature, I can't sugarcoat the fact that everyone's got to eat. And that means somebody has to be eaten. Like the rock dove pigeon that was the likely former owner of this feather.

There wasn't just one feather, so I know it probably wasn't a good end for the bird.  Lots of feathers were scattered around the corner of a city park underneath some cottonwoods that had been a convenient picnic table for a hawk.  I looked for the bird of prey, but breakfast time was long past.

I can't help but feel a little sorry for the poor bird, but I would also feel sorry for the predator if he went hungry.  Even the snowman knows that it's a no-win situation.  Nature can be cruel and sad, but cheer up, Mr. Snowman!  We've finally got some snow!

Steller's Jay

I hadn't seen a Steller's Jay, Cyanocitta stelleri, for quite some time, so I was very happy when one scolded me today. He didn't pose for a portrait, but I did manage to snap the following shot of him in a dead conifer.  They are quite beautiful birds with their brilliant blue plumage and black crest.

From allaboutbirds.org:  "Steller’s Jays have the dubious honor of being one of the most frequently misspelled names in all of bird watching. Up close, the bird’s dazzling mix of azure and blue is certainly stellar, but that’s not how you spell their name. Steller’s Jays were discovered on an Alaskan island in 1741 by Georg Steller, a naturalist on a Russian explorer’s ship. When a scientist officially described the species, in 1788, they named it after him – along with other discoveries including the Steller’s sea lion and Steller’s Sea-Eagle."

The blog 10000birds.com, has some issues with Steller getting his name attached to this lovely bird.  As the writer Carrie says, "Georg Wilhelm Steller was never in the Rockies in the first place. Also, he has been dead for more than 250 years now. Many of the species that he introduced to European science are also dead (Steller’s Sea Cow), threatened (Steller’s Sea Lion, Steller’s Eider), or have never been seen again (Steller’s Sea Ape, which modern scientists suspect was probably a young and/or deformed Northern Fur Seal.)"  She attributes the thriving of the Steller's jay to the fact that this bird is a Corvid.  In other words, it's a smart, adaptable, opportunistic creature, even though it was saddled with what seems to be an unlucky name.

I have often seen Steller's jays in parts of Alaska, more commonly than I have seen them around here.  I've seen them in the largest numbers in the Pacific Northwest, but I am glad they are Wyomingites, too.

Steller's jays can be thought of as the western version of the blue jay.  In some areas, like in Colorado where the plains meet the Rocky Mountain foothills, their ranges overlap and one can see both west and east at the same time.  I prefer the west--and the western bird--but I admit to being biased.

Phellinus igniarius

Mushrooms and other fungi are certainly difficult to identify and learn about. I have recently noticed hard, brown, almost woody mushrooms on aspen trees, and have (almost) determined that they are Phellinus igniarius, which may be known as willow bracket or tinder fungus or possibly false tinder polypore.  Or perhaps flecked-flesh polypore.  Not to mention false tinder conk and hardwood trunk rot.  There might also be about twenty other scientific names that could pertain to this organism!  It's enough to make me stop noticing fungus.

One website tried to get me to identify these fungi by comparing their 'profile' to either a dolphin or a catfish or possibly an unnamed Star Wars creature.  What?  I suppose either my imagination is failing me or I have the completely wrong species.   Or the website is mocking my efforts.

The U.S. Forest Service has a photo that quite matches mine, though, so I guess I'll go with false tinder polypore.  I mean, if you can't trust the government...

There seems to be no Internet consensus over whether these fungi are terribly harmful to their host trees or not.  They do seem to be parasitic, but it may be nothing.  Or it may rot the tree.  Some people seem to suggest that you can in some fashion or another use them to start a campfire.  Just make sure you have the right species.  I guess.

Then I saw a massively big one which I though could possible be the same thing, only on a larger scale.  I give up.