Spring Cleaning

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Townsend's Solitaire

Townsend's solitaire, Myadestes townsendi, is a bird that frequents these parts all winter, but until this weekend I hadn't seen one since December.  But suddenly, on a still leafless mountain mahogany shrub, one made his appearance.

As the name might indicate, these birds are usually seen alone, if they are seen at all.  Their simple gray coloring and ability to remain very still on a perch cause many people to look right by them.  I usually hear them before seeing them, and then stare at them for awhile wondering what bird I am looking at, since there are no vibrant markings.  Solitaires actually have buffy stripes on their wings, but that, and their white eye ring, are hard to see from a distance.

This species eats mostly insects in the summer and fruits and berries in the winter.  They are especially fond of juniper berries and will protect their territory fiercely if it contains a nice clump of berry bushes.

Western Meadowlark

I came back from my trip to New Mexico to find that the western meadowlarks, Sturnella neglecta, have returned, at least to Northern Colorado.  The males were singing their beautiful spring songs with gusto in the morning sunshine.

This brilliantly yellow bird with his cheerful song can make anyone's day brighter.  The meadowlark singing outside of my window was always one of my favorite birds as a kid.  It was a sure sign that spring was here and summer vacation just around the corner!

Allaboutbirds.org writes that "The Western Meadowlark is the state bird of six states: Kansas, Montana, Nebraska, North Dakota, Oregon, and Wyoming. Only the Northern Cardinal is a more popular civic symbol, edging out the meadowlark by one state."  So the species name neglecta is obviously no longer accurate.  Audubon christened this bird by this name because they were for a long time not distinguished from eastern meadowlarks.

Amusingly, all of the photos on this page were taken in Colorado or South Dakota, who decided instead to choose the lark bunting and the ring-necked pheasant (an introduced species! what were they thinking?), respectively, as their state birds.  The meadowlark in the following picture has chosen South Dakota's Badlands as his home.

Birdingabout.com reveals that "The western meadowlark is named for its beautiful warbling song but in fact it is a member of the blackbird family, not the lark family."  These naughty males often have two mates at a time, which I guess is their payoff for all of that pretty singing.

 

Texas Madrone

Another interesting species of my trip south was the Texas madrone tree, Arbutus xalapensis. The state name is accurate in this case, as I saw this tree in McKittrick Canyon of Guadalupe Mountains National Park just across the New Mexican border into Texas.  I had never heard of this tree before, but was immediately taken with its twisty branches of reddish wood.

The Texas Native Plants Database lists several colloquial names for the Texas madrone, including "Naked Indian, Lady's Leg, Texas Arbutus and Madrono." Wildflower.org further explains: "The local names, Naked Indian and Lady's Leg, refer to the smooth, pinkish to reddish-brown bark. The species name, xalapensis, refers to the city of Jalapa/Xalapa in the east Mexican state of Veracruz." TNPD explains that "When the older layers slough off, the newer bark is smooth and can range from white to orange through shades of apricot to dark red."

According to the U.S. Forest Service, "Texas madrone is listed as an endangered species by the Texas Organization for Endangered Species...seedlings are particularly rare wherever livestock are present, presumably because of the combined effects of browsing and trampling."  These trees are also quite susceptible to insect infestation and very difficult to propagate.  In the U.S., this species is only found in extreme southeastern New Mexico and west Texas, and, as a slow growing tree, it is very sensitive to environmental changes.

I was lucky enough to see one of the trees blooming, sporting clusters of small, white flowers.   Unfortunately, though, the only tree with flowers that I came across was too tall for me to get a close-up look!

In the following picture, both the pinkish-red bark and the sturdy evergreen leaves can be noted.

Another madron tree in the canyon still had berries left, although these, too, were higher than I could closely examine.  The red berries are supposed to be edible to more than just the birds, as the blog aneyefortexas.wordpress.com posts:  "These lovely berries give the tree it’s first scientific name, “Arbutus,” which is a Latin word meaning “Strawberry Tree.” The name Madrone comes from the Spanish word madroño which means the same thing."

Texas Antelope Ground Squirrel

In an area of ancient lava flow in New Mexico, I saw a new, cute, little critter running about on the black rocks:  the Texas antelope squirrel, Ammospermophilus interpres.  Despite its name, this species also lives in central New Mexico and northern Mexico, generally in rocky habitats near desert mountain ranges.  They seem to appreciate boulders close to junipers, yuccas, cacti and other shrubs, and they also eat insects. 

These nimble ground squirrels do not hibernate and are active during the day, even in summer.  If temperatures get too hot, they stretch themselves out on shady rocks with their legs splayed to cool off.   I saw three of these busy guys early in the cool morning at Valley of Fires, and this photo was snapped at the only moment I saw one of them be still.

Parry's Agave

Another cool plant of southern New Mexico is Parry's Agave, Agave parryi. Charles Christopher Parry, a naturalist and explorer of the nineteenth century, has quite a large number of species named after him. As wildflower season approaches, my blog will likely become full of species with the name parryi.

This species grows on dry, rocky slopes in New Mexico, Arizona, and west Texas between 4500 and 8000 feet.  It can sometimes be called mescal agave or century plant. Naturesongs.com explains the latter name.  "Century Plants bloom only once in their life, the blooming spike is so large and grows so fast that it saps all the resources of the plant, which then dies, leaving a tall wooden seed stalk. The plant is called the 'century plant' because of this 'once a century' bloom (actually the plant lives an average of 25 years)."  The inflorescense or flower stalk with its yellow flowers can grow as tall as 20 feet high!

According to wikipedia, "It is a common misconception that agaves are cacti. They are not related to cacti, nor are they closely related to aloe whose leaves are similar in appearance."  I must admit that I thought this agave was a kind of cactus when I saw its dark, spiny points in the desert.  It is, in fact, more closely related to yuccas than cacti.

Alligator Juniper

Most of the deciduous trees haven't leafed out yet, so the most conspicuous tree of my trip to New Mexico was the alligator juniper, Juniperus deppeana. Also known as checkerbark juniper, this tree was an interesting and sheltering presence at my campsites with its unique blocked bark and reddish branches.

Unlike the common juniper and Rocky Mountain juniper that I have noticed in Wyoming and Northern Colorado, alligator juniper is strictly a plant of the Southwest, and a large one at that.  These plants can become trees of significant size (40 to 60 feet tall with some even larger exceptions), an amazing feat in such a dry environment. 

I found the tree to have a smoky scent, like mesquite, and it turns out that people do burn the wood for the smell as well as the heat.  In New Mexico, it is sometimes mistakenly referred to as a cedar because of the strong odor.

If I thought these trees were nice in mid-March, I'm sure I would be incredibly grateful for their shade and shelter in hotter months.  And they just look cool!

Western Bluebird

In the middle of the New Mexican desert, I saw an unexpected burst of blue. Western bluebirds, Sialia mexicana, were hopping across the ground at a roadside rest stop. Unlike mountain bluebirds, Western bluebirds do not visit Wyoming, instead preferring to migrate further to the northwest.  Western bluebird males have a darker, royal blue head and a rusty breast compared to the brilliant sky blue of the male mountain bluebirds.

These pretty birds are one of the species declining in numbers due to competition for nest sites from invasive European starlings and house sparrows as well as from logging and other habitat destruction.  Western bluebirds nest in cavities like those made by woodpeckers in dead trees (they cannot make their own cavities with their little bills), so human-provided nest boxes are very important.  They promise to provide good insect control in exchange for a well-situated nest box.

Spotted Towhee

This week I took a little trip south to New Mexico and found the birds that had not yet made their way north quite busy with spring. Spotted Towhees, Pipilo maculatus, were singing loudly all over the place.   The Cornell Lab of Ornithology states that "early in the breeding season, male Spotted Towhees spend their mornings singing their hearts out, trying to attract a mate.  Male towhees have been recorded spending 70 percent to 90 percent of their mornings singing. Almost as soon as they attract a mate, their attention shifts to other things, and they spend only about 5 percent of their time singing."  March is prime singing time in the Southwest.

It's not terribly easy to get a good photo of a towhee. They enjoy hiding behind branches just to make things difficult.  I heard--then saw--a very vocal one singing as loud as he could on the top of a tree, but it was in such early morning light that a picture only barely captured his silhouette.

Spotted towhee males are distinct with their black heads, red sides and eyes, and white wing spots.  Allaboutbirds.org argues: "Some scientists have suggested that the bold white spots on Spotted Towhees’ backs help them blend in to the sun-dappled undergrowth." 

The spotted towhee and the eastern towhee used to be called one species, the rufous-sided towhee, but they are now considered distinct.  Spotted towhees live in drier, shrubbier areas than their eastern relatives.  The following photo was taken in a suitably shrubby environment last June in northern Colorado.

This bird is considered a type of sparrow, though it is much larger and more colorful than the 'little brown jobs' that normally come to mind with the name sparrow.  I enjoy these birds' colorful feathers and cheery song and will have to be on the lookout for their interesting behaviors as well.  They scratch the ground for seeds using a double-footed hop.  According to whatbird.com "They occasionally sun themselves, lying down on the grass with feathers spread.  When disturbed, a nesting female Spotted Towhee may run away like a mouse rather than fly."  And, most charmingly, "A group of towhees are collectively known as a 'tangle' and a 'teapot' of towhees."

Birds of Hutton Lake NWR

The temps have been climbing into the 50s, and yesterday at Hutton Lake National Wildlife Refuge, just southwest of Laramie, the birds were ready for spring. The five lakes of the refuge were still more than half-frozen, but numerous species had already migrated this far north to rest for part of their journey. 

The water must have been cold--I heard very unusual creaking and booming sounds from the melting ice--but it provided ample room for hundreds of waterbirds. In the next picture, Canada geese, Branta canadensis, stand on the ice with mallards, Anas platyrhynchos.  The mallards have been around town since late January, and Canada geese are often found in Fort Collins and other parts of Northern Colorado during the winter, so I was not too surprised to see them.  A new species for me, though, is the canvasback, Aythya valisineria, which can be seen swimming in the foreground of the following photo.

Canvasbacks spend the winter in Mexico or thereabouts, so they've had a bit of a journey to get here.  The males are distinctive, with a reddish-brown head and white body.  Both sexes have long sloping foreheads to long black bills.   Whatbird.com reveals the origin of their common name:  "One of the largest North American diving ducks, it gets its name from its pale gray back and white sides which are delicately dotted and lined in a wavelike pattern resembling canvas fabric."

From a distance, canvasbacks could be easily confused with redhead, Aythya americana.  Redhead males also have a rusty-red head, but have grayish bodies and more of a standard duck profile.  Both sexes of redhead have blue bills with black tips.  While walking around one of the lakes, a very large flock of redhead took off and zigzagged back and forth overhead.  The sound of all of their wings was impressive.

Female redhead are naughty.  Like the cuckoo, the redhead female sometimes deposits her eggs in other species' nests, in the hope that someone else will do the hard work of raising her offspring!

At Hutton Lake NWR, I think I also spied a couple of northern pintail, Anas acuta, and and American wigeon, Anas americana, but, as they were pretty far off in the distance, I wouldn't commit to those identifications.  I did snap a pic of four bufflehead, Bucephala albeola, the smallest diving duck in North America.  One male was leading around three females.

The last time I saw bufflehead was at Christmastime on Hilton Head Island, SC.   While not terribly likely, it is possible that these could be the same birds!

Besides the waterfowl, the refuge was filled with horned larks, singing and flitting about the open ground.  And high up in the sky, a bald eagle, Haliaeetus leucocephalus, was making the rounds.  This was the first bald eagle I've seen this year, and it is always uplifting to see one of these huge birds soaring majestically overhead.

White-tailed Prairie Dog

Guess who's awake! I went for a walk at Hutton Lake NWR outside of Laramie, and it wasn't long before I was being scolded by a white-tailed prairie dog, Cynomys leucurus.   I'm betting that the fellow in the following photo is a male since males are known to emerge from hibernation a few weeks before the females.  They go to sleep earlier than either females or juveniles--as early as mid-August!--so it is no wonder that they are ready to get on with spring.

These are high-altitude prairie dogs, generally living in open sagebrush country above 5000 feet.  They are much less widespread than the non-hibernating black-tailed prairie dogs that live in lower, shorter-grass areas.  White-tailed prairie dogs only inhabit anywhere from about 2 to 8% of their former range due to habitat loss, eradication by poisoning and shooting, and disease.  Even so, they have been denied federal protection by law, so it was nice to see a substantial colony of burrows on the somewhat protected land of the national wildlife refuge. 

Prairie dogs are a key species for sagebrush habitat.  They aerate the soil to encourage plant growth and water absorbtion and provide food for numerous other species like raptors, badgers, foxes and the endangered black-footed ferret.  Prairie dog holes can become homes for other animals like burrowing owls, which I would love to see someday. 

I think the little plaguey beasties are super cute regardless of their ecological niche.  Look at the following photo that was taken last summer within Laramie's city limits.  How cool is it to have prairie dog towns in town?  How could you want to poison that little guy?

Common Mullein

Spring may not yet be here, but tell that to the invasive species. Common mullein, Verbascum thapsus, has its fuzzy, leafy rosettes all ready for the growing season. 

Mullein annoys a lot of people because it is an introduced species that colonizes disturbed sites easily.  After one year as a unimpressive rosette, it sends up massive stalks that grow tall and thick and can seemingly take over an entire field.  Red Mountain Open Space still had some of last year's desiccated stalks remaining.  The one in the following photo was taller than me.

Mullein produces yellow flowers on the top of the stalks, the remnants of which were still left at the top of the one in the previous photo.
 

The National Park Service describes the mullein problem:  "Common mullein threatens natural meadows and forest openings, where it adapts easily to a wide variety of site conditions. Once established, it grows more vigorously than many native herbs and shrubs, and its growth can overtake a site in fairly short order. Common mullein is a prolific seeder and its seeds last a very long time in the soil. An established population of common mullein can be extremely difficult to eradicate....It is estimated that a single plant can produce 100,000-180,000 seeds which may remain viable for more than 100 years."  The spread of mullein plants can be seen in the following photo.  Does anyone else think the one on the right looks like it is photo bombing?

Mullein has soft-looking, felt-like leaves, but the hairs covering the leaves can be sharp and irritating.  In other words, as one nature expert I met advised, "Think twice about using mullein leaves as toilet paper.  They're like fiberglass."

I guess that's another reason some people rip out any mullein they see.

Rocky Mountain Juniper

Red Mountain Open Space, March 4 -  Rocky Mountain Juniper, Juniperus scopulorum, was the most evident tree on my Sunday hike.  The USDA notes that "Rocky Mountain juniper grows in prairie hillsides, fields, pastures, and occasionally in woodlands, in rocky, sandy, or clay soils," unlike the common juniper that grows as a low shrub in the woods near Laramie.  USU states that Rocky Mountain juniper "grows well on open, exposed bluffs, rocky points, or ridgetops, on southern exposures and in ravines or canyons. It is found (up to) 9,000 feet elevation."  In the following photo from my hike, the juniper shares a sunny ridge with  dormant mountain-mahogany and small ponderosa pines.

According to the U.S. Forest Service, this species is one of thirteen native North American junipers and is similar to the eastern red cedar, although more drought tolerant.  It produces the recognizable 'juniper berries' that many birds rely on for food. 

USU also wrote that this species is "Often used in windbreaks due to its toughness and retention of lower branches."  The wind was gusting fairly hard at times on Sunday, and a nice, big juniper provided just the needed windbreak for lunch.  I sat on the southerly side of the tree in the warm sunshine and had a pleasant, juniper-scented picnic.

Horned Lark

Red Mountain Open Space on March 4th - In the absence of spring in Laramie, I'm going to write another blog entry about my interesting Sunday sojourn to more favorable conditions.  On the drive to the hiking trails, the fields were filled with pronghorn, cattle and swooping birds.  The most noticeable birds were horned larks, Eremophila alpestris.  The one perched on a rock in the following photo was singing his pretty song as if spring were already in full bloom.

The horned lark is the only true American lark.  No skylarks ("Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!") here.  These guys like open spaces without too many obstacles like trees to get in their way.  No surprise, then, that they like the Wyoming/Colorado prairie.

From sipapu.wordpress.com:  "Interestingly, Horned Larks are one of only four species in Colorado that breed above treeline. (For those keeping score, the other three are Brown-capped Rosy-Finch, American Pipit, and Rock Wren.)"  The picture of the curious lark below was taken well above treeline on Mt. Rainier (obviously not in Colorado, but the point stands).  Perhaps Washington State larks are more friendly than those in the mountain west.  Or, more likely, this bird was accustomed to handouts or crumbs from National Park hikers.  It's not often that songbirds walk towards humans.

 

This species doesn't really have horns, but only black tufts of feathers on the top of the head that can sometimes look horn-like when raised.  As there are as many as fifteen different subspecies, I will not attempt to be any more precise with my identification.  I'm happy enough to be able to recognize them to the species level.

This final picture was taken within the Laramie city limits last year in late June.  I wonder if I will have to wait over three more months before I see this species in town again...

Elk

Laramie is in the midst of a thaw, and with the slush and the winds and it still being early March at 7200 feet, I didn't see anything new worth blogging about on my walks to and from work.  So I am going to take the opportunity to write--perhaps for the rest of the week!--about the interesting species I saw on March 4 at Red Mountain Open Space in Colorado. 

The Open Space had just re-opened to the public on March 1st (it closes for the winter to protect wildlife habitat), and on one of the trails, mine were obviously the first human feet that had passed that way for quite some time.  My arrival surprised a small group of elk, Cervus canadensis, two of whom were still sporting lovely sets of antlers (though their winter coats looked a bit worse for wear).  The males' antlers are ususally shed sometime in March or early April.

According to the elkplanet.com website, these two males could be seven or eight years old:  "In his second year, a bull elk usually grows slim, unbranched antlers called spikes that are 10-20 inches (25-50 cm) long. By the third year, antlers begin developing tines that branch from the main beam. By the seventh summer, a bull's antlers may have six tines each, weigh as much as 40 pounds (18 kg), and grow to a length and spread of more than four feet (1.2 m)."

Here in the West, elk are often called 'wapiti' after the Shawnee Indian word for 'white rump', which you can see in these photos, because the elk wanted nothing to do with me and were leaving.

The Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation has a very interesting website with great information on elk, including the sounds they make (click on the 'elk talk' link).  The male bugle during the fall rut is a distinct sound--and can be quite eerie when suddenly heard while out on a hike--but the females make odd barking sounds, too.  The only sounds the elk made yesterday were hoofbeats out of sight.

Mountain Bluebird

The winds and high temperatures have made winter activities like skiing seem impossible, so today I drove south to get a taste of spring.   Red Mountain Open Space, a protected area near the Colorado/Wyoming border, has a variety of trails through canyons and grasslands.  Just dropping a thousand feet or so from Laramie leads to a huge change in the environment.  Today I saw numerous different birds, animals, and even a hint of spring in the vegetation--not to mention temperatures that rose into the 50s--even though I wasn't that far from home.

One of the species I saw today was the mountain bluebird, Sialia currucoides.  These brilliant blue birds are strikingly noticeable and very pretty.

The females, like many bird species, are less colorful and blend into the still mostly brown vegetation a little better.  Although there were probably numerous females around today, I only noticed this one, as opposed to the six or seven bright blue males I saw.

If you look closely at the next picture, you can see four male bluebirds perched on the yucca.  I think they must be migrating together.  They did not want me to get too close to them, moving off to further bunches of yucca whenever I crept closer, but they were cool to watch.

According to whatbird.com, this species is the state bird of both Nevada and Idaho.  92% of their diet is made up of insects, and they can hover in the air in order to capture their prey.   Whether of not they are true 'bluebirds of happiness', seeing them today greatly improved my mood!

Window Frost

The temperature dropped pretty low last night.  The combination of single digits outside with the  humidifier running indoors overnight caused pretty ice crystals to form on the window this morning.  It is probably a sign that the windows are becoming drafty and less efficient--even with the double panes--but it does lead for intricate details on the glass.

Some of the ice crystals looked like graceful feathers.  

Follow this link to some great pictures of how spectacular ice can be.

Mystery Tracks

I spend a lot of time looking at snow. Sometimes there's not that much else to look at during the winter.  The snow can tell a lot of stories, but I haven't quite learned to read tracks and prints all that well yet.  I can usually tell--and dismiss--the tracks that dogs make, and squirrel and rabbit (not to mention bear) prints tend to be fairly easy to identify, but some others can be a challenge.  Some are so tiny, made by a shrew, mouse, or some other small critter, as to be too hard for me to photograph.  Sometimes the snow is so deep that details are hard to see.  But occasionally, the deep snow crusts over, keeping the animals from sinking in too deep and leaving clear evidence of their travels.

My guess for the above photo is that a bobcat was on the move, and I think that the following picture may be skunk tracks.  I smelled skunk faintly in the area as I was following the tracks on my cross-country skis.

I'm fairly sure the next photo is of red fox tracks in soft snow.  They have a very precise way of placing their feet in a straight line.

Here is a closeup of one of those fox prints.

The next tracks, though, are anyone's guess.  They were small and precise and in pairs.  I wonder if a weasel or marten could have made them.  I'm not sure I will ever know!