One of my favorite Colorado animals is the pronghorn. Even after two decades of living here, I still excitedly point them out whenever we see them—and we see them a lot. They even grazed in the field across the street from our old house. I think part of their appeal is that I know that pronghorns are unique to this part of the world.
In the year we’ve lived in our new house, the first on the block, we’ve gained a number of neighbors. Now that the growing season is officially underway, these new yards are being landscaped. And I’m reminded all over again of why, back in 2000, I signed up to become a master gardener.
You see, when we first moved here, I quickly noticed that the major landscaping theme was composed of lawns, junipers, and rocks. Lots of rocks. I became a master gardener volunteer to help people grow more attractive and interesting landscapes. But in spite of all that advice, apparently nothing has changed in the last 23 years.
Crows can make tools, or unzip your backpack to extract your lunch. Macaws have been known to open complicated latches their cages in order to escape their captors, demonstrating insight into complex problem solving. Jays can remember where they stashed each and every one of thousands of nuts. And I knew an African Gray Parrot that, in an effort to keep its owners home (and therefore receive more attention), mimicked the telephone’s ring every time anyone started to leave the house. In fact, many birds are exceptionally intelligent. But how do they fit those smarts into their tiny brains?
Do you grow onions? They’re not the most popular crop for the home veggie garden, which is a shame because they’re incredibly easy to grow. Sure, you can go to the store and buy a bag for a pittance, but that’s true for most vegetables we grow. And the flavor of home-grown onions isn’t that different from the ones at the market. The primary advantage of growing your own onions is that you know exactly what you sprayed them with—or didn’t.
In general, growing onions is as easy as sticking a few sets into the ground in early spring. You can start them from seed, but they take forever to reach transplant size. That’s why many garden centers and mail order seed companies sell bunches of transplants and onion sets.
To refresh your memory, here is the photo from June’s Bird Quiz. The bird was seen in New Mexico during the month of June. Don’t read any further if you want one last chance to identify this bird.
The scarlet blossoms really do look like bushy paintbrushes dipped in red paint; they’re hard to miss, even in a meadow crowded with wildflowers. Most of us easily identify these iconic perennials, although we may be a bit confused by the species that bloom in pink, white, and yellow.
Here along the Front Range of Colorado, the most common species of paintbrush is Castilleja miniata, more familiarly known as Giant Red Paintbrush. The one- to two-foot plant is easily identified by its long, unbranched stems lined with lance-shaped leaves. They’re topped with colorful bracts, which are usually divided into threes. These bracts are typically red (miniata means “colored red”) but you can also find blooms in shades of orange, salmon, and pink. The actual flowers are yellowish-green tubes that grow to become more visible later in the season.
Can you identify this bird? The photo was taken in New Mexico during the month of June. The answer will appear next week.
Spring has finally arrived here at 7,100 feet, and I’ve been feverishly planting—move the mulch, dig a hole, dump the perennial out of its pot and stick it into the ground. Fill in any gaps with leftover dirt, replace the mulch. Rinse, repeat.
As I work around the lawn, adding flowers everywhere I can, I’ve noticed how abysmal my dirt is. Since we added compost, I assume that eventually it will qualify as soil, but right now I’m dealing with lumps of bentonite clay embedded in a deep layer of gritty, coarse sand. The clay was supposed to be seven feet down, but in the process of digging a basement, it got mixed with the surface layers.
(Last week I promised a post on my final CFO fieldtrip. Here you go…)
After several days of desiccating wind and heat, Sunday dawned with welcome relief in the form of much cooler temperatures and a light breeze. My trip was to the Comanche National Grasslands. I’d driven through the area years before and hadn’t been impressed. Apparently, that was because I didn’t know where to go. Oh my. I can’t wait to get back!
Last month we learned that the so-called mosquito repellent plants don’t actually keep our yards pest free. Does that mean we have to suffer annoying, itchy welts? Thankfully, there are alternatives. We start by preventing mosquitoes from breeding.
Most of us know that mosquitoes lay their eggs in water. The eggs hatch into aquatic larvae. In as little as three day (depending on the temperature), those larvae become flying adults. The males leave us alone, but the females suck up a gut full of nutrient-rich blood to support egg-laying. And often, that blood comes from us.
Mountain Plover 