Colorado Nature Narratives

You can learn a lot about birds just by watching them for a few minutes, and you might be surprised by what you see. One sunny winter morning when I was observing chickadees and juncos at Bear Creek Nature Center’s feeders, I also noticed three tiny mice eating seeds that had fallen to the ground. Then suddenly, a scrub jay swooped down and ate one of the mice! I was astounded! I had only seen the jays eat seeds and insects, and had no idea that they would eat a mouse.

Scrub Jay with Acorn (Image via Wikipedia)

During fall, I have also watched scrub jays cache, or hide, seeds. When acorns develop on the scrub oak trees, the scrub jays go to work preparing for winter. A jay gathers an acorn, then flies to a particular location to cache it. Using its sturdy beak, the jay pushes the acorn into the ground, effectively storing it for future use, and inadvertently planting a tree.

Like ravens and magpies, jays are members of the crow family and have similar traits. All have raucous calls, tend to live in small family flocks and are considered among the most intelligent of birds. Scrub jays are easy to identify by their colors—blue head, tail and wings; light throat and breast; and gray back. Unlike crested Steller’s jays and blue jays, scrub jays have sleek heads.

The well-named scrub jays are most often found in scrub oak thickets in the foothills and are year-round avian residents of Colorado. It is only during the breeding season that the word “secretive” would describe this bird. For the rest of the year, the jay’s noisy call and flash of blue feathers herald its location.

(Photo via Wikipedia)

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

Late this afternoon I took a short walk through our neighborhood park. Except for the sound of the brisk March wind, it was very quiet. As I headed south into the stiff breeze, I zipped up my hooded jacket and cinched the hood tighter. I noted very little bird activity. Perhaps they had sought shelter from the wind, just as I had for most of the day.

When I turned northward, with the wind at my back, I pushed back my hood just in time to catch sight of a majestic bird that seemed to revel in the wind. A Red-tailed Hawk was soaring about 200 yards above me. With its wingtips outstretched, it faced directly into the rushing wind, buoyed by the moving air with no need to flap its wings. The motionless hawk seemed suspended from the blue sky by an invisible thread. Then, with a slight turn, it became an untethered kite and flew out of sight.

A Few Facts about Red-tailed Hawks:

Red-tailed Hawks have broad wings, 4-foot wingspans and rounded tails that enable them to catch rising currents of warm air. They ride these air currents, called thermals, to soar high in the sky on the lookout for prey.

From its “perch” in the sky, the hawk uses its phenomenal eyesight – eight times better than human sight—to spot a mouse scurrying on the ground one-half mile away. The red-tail then swoops down and grasps the mouse in its powerful talons. Other favorite foods of this bird-of-prey are squirrels, rabbits, large grasshoppers, and even an occasional snake.

Red-tailed Hawk

A mature Red-tailed Hawk is fairly easy to identify with its reddish tail feathers, and is one of the most common hawks in the Pikes Peak Region. Pairs of red-tails use the same territory and nesting area year after year, and usually mate for life.

In most areas of Colorado, you can see this impressive bird almost daily, year-round. In our cities’ open spaces, in the mountains and on the eastern prairies, Red-tailed Hawks are either soaring on the thermals and winds, or perching in tall trees and on fence posts, to survey the landscape for any movement by their unsuspecting prey.

Photo Credit: Thanks to my brother Winston Walker for his photo of the Red-tailed Hawk.

Ten months ago in one of my first blogs, I used a quote from my favorite nature writer Ann Zwinger. The year 2010 marked the 40th anniversary of her classic natural history book, Beyond the Aspen Grove, still my favorite. I chose my nature blog’s tagline “always something new to discover” from Ann’s words:

Beginning to know these mountain acres has been to discover a puzzle with a million pieces already set out on a table. Occasionally a few pieces fit together and we gain another awareness of the land’s total pattern of existence, of its intricate interdependencies, enhanced by knowing that the puzzle will never be completed. There will always be something new to discover… (From Chapter 1, Beyond the Aspen Grove)

As I write today, a snowstorm has settled over Colorado Springs and every shape outside my window is now etched in white. With 2010 drawing to a close, I am reflecting on the turning seasons of this year and thought I’d share a few of my favorite Colorado discoveries with you, with homage to Ann Zwinger.

Sandhill Cranes and Sunset, Sangre de Cristo Mountains, late winter

Northern Flicker, late winter

Bobcat with two of her four kittens, late spring

Alpine Tundra Wildflowers: Alpine Forget-Me-Nots and Dwarf Clover on the west slope of Pikes Peak, mid-summer

Golden aspen leaves paint the mountainsides in autumn

Snow-covered Backyard with pond, aspen trees and tall stalks of teasel, early winter

Happy New Year!

Photo Credits: Cranes, Bobcats, Wildflowers, Aspen and Pond by Melissa Walker; Flicker by Les Goss

Morning rays of sunlight filter through our backyard aspen trees and the woodbine vine that decorates my window. The backlit red and gold leaves of the woodbine transform the window into stained glass. The woodbine (also called Virginia creeper) is at the peak of its autumn glory.

Autumn Window View

The brilliant fall colors lure me outside for a short walk. The air is brisk and I zip up my jacket. Almost everywhere I look, garlands of red woodbine encircle the trees and shrubs of the neighborhood.

During this year’s warm summer, the sun-seeking woodbine vine used our house as a trellis and quickly grew toward the light. The vine’s tendrils attached to vertical walls and window glass and soon the east side of our house looked like an arbor, covered with green leaves and tiny green berries. One afternoon I discovered a tenacious vine that had crept toward the south side of the house and had clasped our windchime with its tendrils. I quickly released the “captured” chime.

Red Garlands of Woodbine

Although woodbine isn’t native to Colorado, it has adapted well to the forested and irrigated urban landscapes of the Front Range. Many native birds now use woodbine for food and shelter. Robins build nests in the vine’s leafy bower and Northern Flicker woodpeckers devour the ripe blue berries.

Returning home from my autumn walk with the day now warming up, I open the vine-covered window. I hear the staccato drums of the Coronado High School Marching Band practicing on the football field about a half-mile away. Now my window sounds like autumn, too.

Ripe blue berries

Photo Credits: All three photos by Melissa Walker

Suddenly, it’s autumn.

The currant, aspen and sumac leaves have turned shades of gold and red, and most of the late-blooming wildflowers are hues of purple and yellow. But to me, the color blue best captures the feelings of this season of transition.

A hike in a foothills’ meadow reveals dozens of blue gentians, their deep corollas offering nectar to September’s remaining bumblebees.

Blue Gentian

The Mountain Bluebird is the color of Colorado’s autumn sky. In my imagination, I see a bluebird fly so high that it brushes against the dome of the sky, sweeping up the blue color with its wings.

The bluebirds will soon vanish, winging their way southward on their fall migration. The gentians will soon set seed and become dormant until next year. My shadow looks long and blue, and I can feel and see the season change.

Colorado's September Sky

Photo Credits:
Blue Gentian and September Sky by Melissa Walker
Mountain Bluebird from Wikipedia – Public Domain

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

Visitors to Colorado Springs may be surprised to see new snow on Pikes Peak in July, but longtime residents know that it may snow on our “Fourteener” any day of the year. Still, there is an element of surprise when afternoon rain clouds clear, revealing new snow on the Peak. Such was the case yesterday, July 8.

New Snow on Pikes Peak - July 8, 2010

It doesn’t seem that summer snows and freezing temperatures would be compatible with wildflowers. Yet, many species of wildflowers thrive above 10,500′ in the subalpine and alpine elevations of Pikes Peak. Every summer, I journey to Elk Park on the north slope of the Peak to seek out the beautiful bright flowers. Especially adapted to high altitudes, these hardy perennial plants bloom and form seeds quickly during their short growing season. Sometimes, I will find “bouquets” of wildflowers nestled against the pink granite rocks that provide some shelter from the wind and intense sunlight. This is where I found two of my favorite subalpine wildflowers, the purple Dusky Penstamon and blue Chiming Bells.

Dusky Penstamon and Chiming Bells

The Alpine Sunflower is so bright and showy that it is easy to find. Its large 3″ blossom tops its short stem, making it look top-heavy. The plant’s stem and leaves are covered with wooly-looking hairs that have led to the wildflower’s nickname “Old Man of the Mountains.” The white hairs serve as insulation, an adaptation that helps protect the sunflower from the frosts, summer snows and drying winds of the subalpine and alpine climate. The “Old Man of the Mountains” flowers always face the rising sun, receiving the sun’s warming rays after cold summer nights on Pikes Peak.

Alpine Sunflowers on Pikes Peak

Photo Credits: All three photos by Melissa Walker