Colorado Nature Narratives

On August 8, 2011, Lenore Fleck and I went for a short hike on the Lower Columbine Trail in North Cheyenne Cañon Park. The first mile of the Columbine Trail follows Cheyenne Creek and provided cool hiking for us in the shade of ponderosa pines, white firs and willow trees. Within the first few minutes of our hike, we were amazed to see a gorgeous orange bird with black wings fluttering in a tree near us. Neither one of us had ever seen a bird like this before! Fortunately, we got a good look at this brand new bird (to us) as it fed a fledgling at close range. After consulting two bird books, we identified it as a male Scarlet Tanager, Orange Variant.

Scarlet Tanager, Orange Variant. Photo by Bill Maynard

I called expert Colorado Springs birder Bill Maynard who immediately dropped what he was doing and drove to the Park. Fortunately, Bill arrived in time to observe the male Scarlet Tanager, Orange Variant, still tending the juvenile bird. Bill took some great photographs to document the unusual bird and reported it to Colorado’s Rare Bird Alert.

Photo by Bill Maynard

Typically, Scarlet Tanagers nest in the eastern United States and are considered rare sightings if they are seen west of central Oklahoma, Kansas and Nebraska. To see this rare Tanager with its even more rare “Orange Variant” color was quite a birding event. Local birders and I exchanged emails during the next 24 hours, and several of us had the good fortune of seeing the colorful Tanager the following morning. I looked for it again today, August 13, but couldn’t find it.

My thanks to Bill Maynard for his permission to post his great photographs of the Scarlet Tanager, Orange Variant, and to reprint his descriptive email:

“I looked at my photographs and the Scarlet Tanager grabbed what looks like a yellow jacket or other yellow and black abdomened wasp, worked the stinger end between its mandibles, probably disabling the stinger, and fed it to the juvenile.  Pretty cool.”     – Bill Maynard

Tanager preparing wasp to feed to fledgling bird. Photo by Bill Maynard

Scarlet Tanager, Orange Variant, feeding fledgling. Photo by Bill Maynard.

Few people can hike through our mountain forests without being scolded by a pine squirrel. Also called a chickaree, this little gray squirrel is very noisy and territorial.

The chickaree gnaws through the cones of ponderosa, spruce and fir trees to reach its preferred food—conifer seeds. Similar to the way you and I eat corn-on-the-cob, the squirrel holds the pinecone between its front paws. Then, it turns the cone as it chews off the woody bracts all the way down to the pinecone’s core. Between the bracts, it finds the nutritious seeds.

Chickaree eating a cone. (Photo by Bret Tennis)

Usually the squirrel has a favorite feeding tree where it eats and then drops leftover pinecone pieces. The shredded cones at the base of its feeding tree may accumulate into huge piles, called middens, that are sometimes several feet across and over two feet deep. Very large middens are evidence that several generations of chickarees have used the same feeding tree for decades.

Pine Squirrel Midden (Photo by Bret Tennis)

In summer and fall, the chickaree gathers pinecones and buries them in the midden to serve as its winter and early spring food supply. On cold winter days, the well-prepared squirrel retrieves and eats a few of its stored cones.

As you walk or picnic in the higher elevations of our Colorado Springs mountain parks and open spaces —Garden of the Gods, Red Rock Canyon, Section 16 or North Cheyenne Cañon—look for a chickaree’s midden at the base of an evergreen tree. And if you hear a chattering squirrel long before you can see it, no doubt it is a chickaree.

On June 7^th, I took a short trip to Rocky Mountain National Park to see some of my favorite mountains sparkling white, wearing this year’s unusually high snowpack. Trail Ridge Road finally opened on June 6^th, its latest opening in 20 years, with 30-foot snow drifts covering parts of the alpine highway.

Long’s Peak at 14,259 feet towered over the Estes Park Valley and the blue jewel of Lily Lake. Every summer, I take a wildflower hike on the lake’s circular trail. This early in June, I was treated to a return to Spring. Light lavender Pasque flowers that bloomed in April in Colorado Springs were in full bloom on the west side of the lake. Scattered beneath the Ponderosa Pine trees was the largest natural garden of Pasque flowers I’d ever seen.

Long's Peak, June 7, 2011

The higher elevation of Estes Park, cooler temperatures and ample precipitation provided the perfect environment for these wildflowers to bloom a few weeks later than in the foothills. That’s one of the extra benefits of living in Colorado. You can follow Spring up the mountainsides.

Pasque Flowers at Lily Lake

Pasque Flower Close-up

Lily Lake and the Mummy Range

Photo Credits: all three photos by Nature Narratives author Melissa Walker

When I first moved to Colorado Springs, I was an 18-year-old college student. More than anything else about that first year, I remember the thrill of waking up every morning and looking out at Pikes Peak. My parents saved the letters I wrote that fall, letters full of long descriptions about the clear, crisp weather, the sky that always seemed to be blue, and the new snowfall on the tops of the mountains.

Having grown up comfortably enveloped in the hardwood and pine forests of Louisiana, I simply felt different in Colorado. I felt as tall as any tree as I gazed out at the expansive horizon. Views of horizons were new to me.

Here in this place, I could see where I wanted to go. I wanted to go around Cheyenne Mountain to see what was on the other side. I wanted to explore the upended rocks of Garden of the Gods. I wanted to climb Pikes Peak.

Then, I found that wherever I went in the Pikes Peak Region, I could see where I had been. On top of Mt. Cutler, I could see my dorm back on campus. On top of Pikes Peak, I could see the cottonwood trees marking Fountain Creek’s path to the Arkansas River—a river that eventually met the Mississippi and flowed through my home state. Like so many before me, I was captivated by this place. Now it is my home.

In the ensuing years, I have discovered that alongside this Region’s stunning beauty are unforgettable stories of its people; inseparable from its beauty are its native plants and wildlife; and the foundations of its beauty are its rocks, canyons, mountains and horizons.

Pikes Peak on the Horizon & Indian Paintbrush

Photo by Author Melissa Walker

This summer, my husband and I took our traditional July hike on one of our favorite trails south of Creede, Colorado. As we hiked the familiar Ivy Creek Trail, we saw many fir and pine trees that were dead, and many that had been cut and pushed off the trail. Then, after hiking 3 miles, our way was blocked. Blocked by fallen trees that looked like giant toothpicks interlocked in a chaotic jumble.

Ivy Creek and dying forest

This summer, the forests near Creede were noticeably changing. From a distance, the evergreen forest had a reddish tinge, the first obvious sign that trees are dying from the Mountain Pine Beetle infestation. Some forest landscapes were totally gray, indicating that the needles, hence the trees, were already dead. All the infected trees will eventually die, lose their needles, and then fall over. The San Juan Mountains are now experiencing the outbreak of diseased trees that other areas of Colorado, including Summit County and Steamboat Springs, have been dealing with for almost a decade.

It is difficult for me to see breathtaking Colorado mountain views now marred by dying forests. But that’s the reality. Eventually, the evergreen forests will regenerate as sun-loving aspen trees will flourish and then provide a microclimate where spruce, fir and pines will thrive again.

So, our hike was bittersweet, and I didn’t even want to write about it for awhile. We saw such beauty on the shady path – shade-loving wildflowers of Red Columbine and light blue Jacob’s Ladder growing along the creek. Will they be there when their shade is gone?

Red Columbine

Jacob's Ladder

Photo Credit: All three photos by Les Goss

Hiking in Rocky Mountain National Park earlier this week, my friends and I got an early start to beat the afternoon heat and possible thunderstorms. Beginning our hike at 9400 feet at Bear Lake Trailhead, we followed the forested trail up and over a glacial moraine on our way to Lake Helene. We also traversed wildflower meadows where white “cottonballs” of Bistort flowers and Purple Asters danced in the wind. As we approached the subalpine forest at 10,500 feet, the trail crossed very rocky terrain (a scree slope) that seemed bare of wildflowers. But it wasn’t. Somehow, the most beautiful Colorado Blue Columbines had found enough soil to take root and grow toward the bright sunshine. When I returned from my hike, I was eager to read Ann Zwinger’s description of the Colorado Columbine in her book, my favorite, Beyond the Aspen Grove:

The blooms seem suspended above the green leaves like tiny birds, and tremble in the slightest breeze. Their lavender is the depth of aspen shadow, their yellow that of the first sunlight.

Colorado Blue Columbine, July 27, 2010

The lovely Columbine is Colorado’s state flower. It was chosen not only for its beauty, but also for the symbolism of its colors. The blue and white blossom symbolizes Colorado’s blue skies and white snow. The word “Columbine” comes from the Latin word “columba” which means “dove” as the flower’s white petals resemble the wings of a dove.

Photo Credit: Melissa Walker