Can you identify this bird? The photo was taken in Colorado during May.
Author: LAH
Tiny Black, Jumping Leaf-chompers
Our family loves bok choy, so I always plant at least one block of the baby variety. And every year I harvest bok choy that looks as if it’s been peppered with buckshot. I can explain that I washed the leaves and they’re perfectly safe to eat, but really—who wants to eat leaves that were eaten by something else first? Ewww.
The culprit behind all those holes is an aggravating insect called a Flea Beetle. No, they aren’t really fleas, and they only bite plants, not people. If you look closely, you’ll see they’re shaped like beetles (fleas are vertically flattened). Still, they are very small, dark brown to black, and they can jump—just like fleas. And just like fleas, they can drive you crazy.
Take Better Bird Photos
What’s a birder to do, once we’ve checked off all the easily seen local birds? I, for one, can’t afford endless trips to exotic places. I don’t have time to chase rarities (which is why I missed the Red-necked Rail at Bosque last month). And I don’t keep year lists, or county lists (or even state lists).
How do you maintain your interest in species you see trip after trip? I turned to photography. There’s always the possibility of a better photo—a different pose, interesting behavior, surreal lighting. The more I practice, the better I get, although I have a long way to go before my photos are gracing the cover of National Geographic!
Bad Daisies
Fresh as a daisy. Daisy chains. “The daisy’s for simplicity and unaffected air.”*
Symbols of simple charm, it’s hard to imagine that daisies could be anything but pure and innocent. Yet, the familiar Oxeye daisy has a dark side. Under that attractive and cheerful guise lurks… a noxious weed!
Take a trip to the mountains to see the wildflowers, and you’re bound to see Oxeye daisies as well. They’re all over the Rockies, preferring the higher elevations. Unfortunately, they don’t belong here. They’re native to Europe, and we heartily wish they had stayed there!
Love Chickens? Read This!
Backyard chickens are pretty popular, and for good reason. What other pet delivers affection, entertainment, companionship, plus fertilizer and fresh, tasty eggs? If you’ve been smitten by the burb of a motherly hen—or if you’d like to know what it’s like to raise your own flock—have I got a treat for you!
Hasten thee to the library or bookstore and pick up a copy of Once Upon A Flock: Life With My Soulful Chickens, by Lauren Scheuer. (If that name sounds familiar, you might have read her delightful blog, Scratch and Peck.)
Season-long Harvests
You’ve been hard at work all spring. First you started some seeds indoors, then you hardened them off so they will withstand the rigors of Colorado weather. You set your transplants in beds you carefully prepared with just the right amendments and fertilizers. Then you seeded some other crops (such as bush beans and squash) outdoors where they are to grow, and now you have cute little seedlings, putting out their first true leaves, on their way to providing you with some delicious eating.
Finally, it’s time to take a break, sit back, and snooze in your hammock (in between chores such as watering and weeding), and wait for your crops to mature.
Please Imagine…
I just came back from an exciting day of birding and photography. Our local Audubon chapter organized a field trip to Mt. Evans, which reaches 14,265 feet above sea level. Our target birds included White-tailed Ptarmigan and Brown-capped Rosy-finches. We were also looking forward to some alpine relief from the hot summer weather.
The morning was clear and sunny as we climbed into the Rockies along I-70. Taking the turnoff at Idaho Springs, we headed back south toward the mountain. First stop: Echo Lake, just before the toll road entrance.
A variety of chirping birds greeted us as we piled out of our cars for a quick look-see. Goldeneyes floated on the lake, we got a quick glimpse of a Lincoln’s Sparrow (right) in the willows, and a male Pine Grosbeak (above) posed for us in a tall spruce. It was going to be a great day! Wasn’t it?
Our next stop was misnamed Summit Lake, nestled against the cliffs at “only” 12,830 feet. Although it was a week day, the place was busy, with hikers, photographers, and even some nuns in their habits. Kids were running around on the tundra, right past the signs telling us to stay on the trails, while their parents shrugged and looked the other way.
A few patches of snow still remained on the north side of the mountain, perfect habitat for Rosy-finches. And, sure enough, there it was—a single Brown-capped Rosy-finch singing far across the lake. We tried to get closer, but it remained a tiny speck in my binoculars. Please close your eyes and imagine the lovely photo I wasn’t able to take.
Back in our cars, we climbed higher. The switchbacks meant we alternated between hugging the inside lane against the cliff and teetering on the outside lane next to the sheer drop-off. The asphalt was crumbling from the extreme climate at this altitude. I tried to focus on looking for birds.
Reaching a pull-off that could accommodate all three cars, we stopped by the side of the road to look for ptarmigan. Pikas chirped at us from atop the orange granite boulders, then disappeared underneath when I approached to photograph them. Yellow-bellied Marmots lazily warmed themselves in the morning sun (left). A few Common Ravens soared overhead, and American Pipits hopped over the rocks far below. Please imagine the White-tailed Ptarmigan we didn’t see.
After searching for perhaps 20 minutes, we noticed the sun disappearing behind some menacing clouds. Lightning flashed across the valley, thunder rumbled. Yikes. If we wanted to reach the summit, we had better hurry!
Once again we scurried back to the cars, and this time headed straight up the steep road. A herd of Bighorn Sheep stared as we motored past, but we couldn’t stop for photos. Mountain Goats munched the alpine flowers, their kids frisking from rock to rock, but we had to reach the summit—because it was there.
Finally, we crested the final rise and found ourselves in a crowded parking lot. The sky grew black. Lightning flashed, followed immediately by deafening thunder. Big drops started to fall, then more, and more. The heavens opened and we were deluged by a waterfall of pounding rain, quickly followed by graupel, then sleet. Well, we wanted to escape the heat….
Eventually, the storm began to abate as the clouds moved east. We cautiously opened the car doors and climbed out. The sheep and goats were long gone; they were smart enough to avoid a 14,000 foot mountaintop in a thunderstorm! Wind whipped through our summer jackets and numbed our noses. We didn’t stay long. Please imagine the lovely wildlife photos I didn’t get.
Back down we went, and again I tried to ignore the crumbling pavement along the precipitous cliffs. We stopped once more to look for ptarmigan, but had no luck.
We had passed the gardens at Mt. Goliath (part of the Denver Botanic Gardens) on our way up, so we stopped on our way back. The wildflowers were gorgeous, but it started to rain again, so we didn’t stay long. It was also too wet to linger at the hummingbird feeders at the bottom of the toll road.
We did make a final stop at a bridge to look for American Dippers in the stream below. It took a while, but we finally spotted the bird wading in the rushing water. It was hard to see with all the riparian foliage in the way, and the eleven of us crowded along the guard rail, trying to get a peek. Please pretend that I got my turn in front in time to take a photo before the bird flew away.
Not all trips produce the birds and photos we hope to find. Still, it’s hard to beat a day in the Rockies, no matter what we don’t see.
Help! My Lettuce is Blooming!
My lettuce is blooming. Instead of sweet, tender Buttercrunch and crisp red Prizehead, I have leaves so bitter, even my hens are spurning them. Rats.
At this time of year, it’s common for leafy greens to bloom or, as it’s known in garden-speak, bolt. Long hours of sunlight, combined with torrid temperatures induce flowering. In most cases, there’s nothing to be done. It’s simply time to pull the plants that haven’t yet been harvested and add them to the compost pile.
For example, spinach blooms when days last more than 14 to 16 hours. (Interestingly, spinach will only bloom when days are long.) Warm temperatures will accelerate this process. Dorothy Hinshaw Patent and Diane E. Bilderback explain why this happens in The Book of Garden Secrets:
July Quiz: Answer
To refresh your memory, here is the photo from July’s Bird Quiz. It was taken in western Washington during the month of September. Don’t read any further if you want one last chance to identify this bird.
Garden Fireworks
With the Black Forest fire fresh in my mind, I’ve been wondering, how could we celebrate Independence Day without any sparks or explosions? I’m just not in the mood for fireworks! Well, being a gardener, I started thinking of all the plants that could be part of a 4th of July garden. What plants remind me of fireworks? What blooms now? Here are my suggestions—what can you add to my list?
Mountain Plover 