Friday Field Notes: Winter Gemütlichkeit

Photo: Ryan Milling

Now that Montana is back into the throes of Winter, I can postpone my pining for spring and enjoy the winter wonderland. I have not been able to look outside without being reminded of the things I truly love about the Northern Hemisphere being tilted away from the sun.

Snow is probably number 2 on my list of enjoyable frozen things (number 1, of course, occupied by ice cream). Snow affords us fantastic opportunities to enjoy nature. Skiing, sledding, snowshoeing, frolicking, track identifying, snowflake admiring...

The list goes on.

I usually like to share my experiences in wild snowy places and I always experience a distinct emotion that I feel the English language has no single word to describe. The Germans must have spent some serious time in the snowy Black Forest or Alps with their friends and loved ones to come up with this word: Gemütlichkeit. The word describes a sense of kinship and coziness but also a feeling of unhurriedness and sense of place.

I wonder if my feeling of Gemütlichkeit this time of year is attributable to something intrinsic in snow. The birth of a snowflake takes place far above tree limbs and rooftops, their final resting places. Snowflakes form when cold water droplets crystallize around particles of pollen or dust in the atmosphere. As the ice crystals descend toward our sidewalks and ski slopes water vapor in the air crystallizes around them, forming familiar six-sided snowflakes.

The old adage goes "no two snowflakes are alike"--and that's pretty much true! The length of each arm of a snowflake is determined by its immediate environmental conditions (mainly temperature and moisture in the air: warmer/wetter = longer spindly flakes, colder/drier = shorter, more plate-like flakes). Each snowflake has minute differences in its immediate environment and so each one branches at a different point, or grows a different length, etc.

6-fold symmetry of ice crystals.

Snowflakes get their distinct 6-fold symmetry from the molecular structure of ice crystals, which is also a 6-fold symmetry. The ice crystals build on each other until the snowflake itself mirrors its molecular structure.

I suppose ultimately each individual snowflake is a collection (maybe even a companionship) of ice crystals, making a journey together towards the earth, and landing in just the right places for us to enjoy.

Photo: Ryan Milling

Friday Field Notes: Chinook Winds of Fortune

On my ride into the Montana Natural History Center this morning there was one thing that was impossible not to think about: WIND. Struggling against a current of wind on an icy bike path is no cakewalk. Missoula doesn't get this windy too often, but just a handful of miles across the Continental Divide onto Montana's high plains, it's another story.

Most of Montana is occupied by rolling grasslands, once dominated by bison, pronghorn, and prairie dogs. Beautiful shortgrass prairie stretched from the flanks of the Rockies and moated the island ranges of the central and eastern parts of the state. The rich soils that sustained the plentiful life were also ideally suited for growing crops like wheat and alfalfa and stock grazing. A short time after the advent of white settlers, much of the prairie had been checkered with farms and fences, altering the pristine landscape into an anthropomorphized version of its former self.

Looking out from Square Butte towards the Missouri River Breaks

Weather, however, remains indifferent to our terrestrial tillings, not appearing to care about our comfort or chapped faces.

Wind has played an important role in Montana's history, particularly on the eastern slope of the Rockies. From harnessing wind for energy production, to dispersal of seeds and pollen for various plants, wind, despite its indifference, is critical for life on the prairie.

Chinook winds have certainly made their mark on Montana history. A Chinook wind a is warm, dry air mass that rips down the east slope of high mountains and warms the plains it crosses. Chinooks form from  westerly humid cells of air from the Pacific that dump their moisture on the west sides of mountain ranges (the great and mighty Rockies in our case), then warm adiabatically on their way back down the eastern side. The Chinook winds reach temperatures up to 60 degrees F and tear across that landscape at speeds up to 100 mph, melting and sublimating snow in their wake.

http://www.weatherexplained.com/images/walm_01_img0191.jpg

These winds are most common and severe from Cutbank to Helena, Montana. The high, steep eastern slopes of Glacier and the Bob Marshall and Scapegoat Wildernesses warm more quickly. The greatest temperature change in a 24-hour period in the U.S. was due to a Chinook wind, and occurred in Loma, Montana. The temperature went from -54 to 49 F, a 103-degree change! It is plain to see that ranchers would have relied on these remarkable weather events to make it through the unforgiving winters that punctuate every year in central Montana.

Waiting for a Chinook by Charlie Russell

As I bike back home today against that not-so-warm wind coming out of the mouth of Hellgate Canyon, I'll be dreaming of warm, dry Chinooks on the prairie.

Friday Field Notes: Icy Sentinels: Stalwart Herons in Winter

Riding my bike in the summer along the Clark Fork River sometimes feels like an exhibition of nature. Munching beavers, darting kingfishers, and watchful Osprey are rarely out of sight or unheard. Trout break the surface of the river and grebes and their allies dip to catch a morsel under the cool water. But, as the warm clear mornings start to turn into cold ones and ice forms along the river's bank, only the hardiest animals show themselves.

A watchful eye in winter will turn up some of these unyielding creatures. One not too hard to spot is the Great Blue Heron. I was amazed to see that these large graceful birds were waiting at the edge of the ice, staring motionless into the water, as if mesmerized by the chunks of ice floating by. My thoughts then turned to a poem by renowned poet Mary Oliver--Herons in Winter in the Frozen Marsh.

http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2009/12/27

This poem captured much of the feeling I experience while watching these icy sentinels.

If you look carefully at some places on the river ice you can see their "pitchfork" footprints along the water's edge. You may be wondering how the herons can stand the cold with their long scaly legs in the frigid water or on the ice, and the answer is that they are equipped with a special routing of blood vessels in which the vessel carrying blood out to the leg lies directly against the vessel carrying blood back in. This is called "counter-current heat exchange," and is an adaptation used by many organisms across the globe. The blood going into the legs warms up the blood coming back into the body, keeping the heron's body temperature at a remarkable 103 to 106 degrees Fahrenheit (keep in mind that the average human body temperature is 98-99 degrees Fahrenheit). This allows them to stand at or in the water's edge and watch for fish and crustaceans for long periods of time.

As for me, I feel fortunate that I don't have to stand barefoot in the cold river to catch a bite to eat. I'm content just watching the pros at work.

So next time you find yourself along the river, make sure to scan for herons, motionless and cold, looking for lunch.

http://www.words4it.com/?tag=footprint

Friday Field Notes: Snow covered Lichen in Powell Campground, Idaho

Friday Field Notes: Jacob's Island, Missoula, MT

Friday Field Notes: Home for the Holidays

During my visit back east I was reminded of how wonderful my parents' backyard is for observing birds and small critters. As I sat on my parents' back porch I was ecstatic to see a number of Black-capped Chickadees, one of my favorite birds in Montana, as they quickly swooped down from the shrubs and large oak tree towards the bird feeder that my parents had positioned in the backyard when I was just a child. Ever since its placement in our backyard, the bird feeder has always attracted Eastern gray squirrels. It still puts a smile on my face to watch the squirrels scurry about, as they gather the birds' littered seeds off of the ground.

Friday Field Notes: All Eyes on the Wolverine

When it comes to wolverines in the news, the media is usually referring to a certain university in Michigan, not the aggressive, thirty-pound weasel that roams the high mountain ranges of the western United States. But following last week's announcement by the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service that the large mustelids were being considered for "Threatened" status under the Endangered Species Act, even prominent news outlets like the New York Times and the Huffington Post couldn't keep their eyes off Gulo gulo.

The wolverine's scientific name, Gulo, comes from the Latin word for "glutton." However, despite the animal's ability to take prey of considerably larger body sizes than its own, the characterization of the wolverine as a glutton may actually be the result of a false etymology. Indeed, some researchers believe that the Swedish word used to describe wolverines (which in English translates to "mountain cat") is very similar to the German word vielfrass, which means "devours much"--and the rest is history. The common name "wolverine" is derived from the German word wolvering, which loosely translates to "little wolf" or "wolf-like."

They might look cute, but I've heard they have a bit of a temper.

A more appropriate name for the wolverine would be "little bear." In the rare event that people actually do see a wolverine in the wild (usually from some distance away), they often mistake them at first for bear cubs. It's hard to blame them: wolverines can be over three feet long and weigh upwards of 70 pounds! At nearly twice the size of their cousin the fisher (Martes pennanti), it becomes obvious that wolverines are not your ordinary weasel. When it comes to meal time, wolverines are actually more like bears than weasels. While prey often consists of small mammals such as shrews, voles, and rabbits, wolverines have been known to take animals as large as white-tailed deer, elk, and occasionally moose. This fact, combined with the fearless manner in which they have been observed competing with wolves and bears for carcasses, has earned the wolverine the title of "nature's most ferocious animal."

Incredible feeding behaviors aside, the most impressive aspect of the wolverine might be its propensity for movement. With massive, snowshoe-like feet, wolverines can move quickly and gracefully over snow-covered alpine environments. Case in point: a wolverine collared by researchers near Jackson, Wyoming, once traveled to Pocatello, Idaho, (a distance well over 100 miles) and back in under three weeks. Apparently not tired of life on the road, he later made another 100+ mile trip southeast to Wyoming's Wind River Range, then took a detour to the Salt River Range on the Wyoming-Idaho border before returning north to his home.

A wolverine family roams the backcountry of Glacier National Park

Don't let this deceive you; wolverines aren't wanderers, rambling through the mountains without direction. Rather, they are animals with massive home ranges, sometimes greater than 200 square miles, living in very low densities. In the odd event that they do manage to run into another wolverine and develop a romantic interest (which will become a lifetime partnership), the female digs a large den in deep snow in winter before giving birth to a litter of two to three in early spring, which the family will occupy until late spring/early summer. Thus, the presence of deep snow, both for movement and denning, is a critical part of wolverine life history.

It is these strict habitat needs--particularly the need for stable snowpack--that now have prominent scientists and researchers discussing whether the animal warrants the heightened protection of Endangered Species Act listing. Some climate models predict that suitable wolverine habitat will decrease by almost two-thirds before the end of the century if warming and reduced snowpack trends continue. It is a particularly damning revelation for the wolverine, whose population is just beginning to recolonize habitat in the lower 48 after near-extirpation, and now numbers somewhere between 250 and 300 individuals. In 2008 and 2009, a few ambitious wolverines wandered as far south as Utah and Colorado, the first time they have been observed in either state in nearly a century. Now, the strides being made by wolverines to re-establish themselves in the West are in danger of being nullified by climate change.

If ESA protection is granted to the wolverine (a decision that will be made in about three months time, once the comment period closes), researchers would be allowed to introduce an experimental population in Colorado, a region which offers plenty of suitable habitat, yet due to connectivity issues, has not been naturally recolonized. It is unknown if similar reintroductions/translocations would be permitted in other areas of the western US. Due to the nature of wolverine habitat (high, cold, rocky, dry places), ESA listing would likely have little economic impact, though it would certainly put an end to Montana's trapping season, which currently allows for the taking of five animals annually. It is worth noting that the 2012-2013 season was suspended by a U.S. district court in anticipation of the ESA listing proposal.

While the future of the wolverine is uncertain, there is little doubt that Montana will be an important part of that future. Today, roughly half of the lower 48's estimated population of 300 wolverines lives within the Big Sky state. The mountains of northwestern Montana, particularly Glacier National Park and the nearby Bob Marshall Wilderness Complex, are a stronghold for this fiery weasel. Conserving wolverines, therefore, is intimately tied to the conservation of our backyard.

Friday Field Notes: On Bergmann's Rule, Ratios, and the Art of Staying Warm in Northern Climates

When MNHC's distinguished naturalists enter elementary school classrooms throughout western Montana this February for their monthly visit/natural history lesson, they will be discussing a fairly important ecological principle with 4th graders: Bergmann's rule. First articulated by German biologist Christian Bergmann (hence the name), the principle states that within a broadly distributed species or taxonomic group, an organism's body mass tends to increase with an increase in latitude (and the corresponding colder climate). While this principle has been most widely applied to mammals and birds, there are also examples of cold-blooded species that conform to the rule.

Why is such a principle observed in nature, you ask? Fundamentally, it is a function of larger animals exhibiting a decreased surface-area-to-volume ratio. Thus, larger-bodied animals lose less heat per unit of body mass, a characteristic that becomes vitally important in places like Montana where winters are long and cold. The following graphic helps better display this relationship:

Graphic displaying the mathematics underlying Bergmann's rule.

The important thing to note is the red text: While the larger cube has a considerably higher surface area, its volume has increased proportionately even more, thus lowering the surface-area-to-volume ratio.

Now, I know what you're thinking: Surface-area-to-volume ratios are a bit much for 4th graders. Most of us hadn't even heard of Bergmann's rule until our first college-level ecology course. But the science and mathematics underlying this stalwart of ecology can be easily explained and visualized. Consider this simple experiment, best suited for a brisk (32 degrees F or less) Montana winter day:

• Simultaneously fill up two cans of different sizes (i.e., a coffee can and a soup can) with near-boiling water. Place a thermometer in each can, and record the initial temperature.
• Place both cans outside. Record the temperature of each can every minute for approximately ten minutes.
• Afterwards, compare the change in temperature of the cans. The larger can should be significantly warmer than the smaller one, a result of its lower surface-area-to-volume ratio.

This simple experiment is a great way to test and conceptualize Bergmann's rule, and sheds light onto why being bigger is better when you live in northern latitudes. This fundamental relationship between surface area and volume explains why animals such as deer, elk, moose, and bears get larger as you move further north within their range. In some cases, the size difference can be quite dramatic. Male grizzly bears, for example, whose average weight is in the range of 500-1000 pounds in the Interior West, can reach up to 1,500 pounds in Alaska! In white-tailed deer, an incredibly far-ranging species, a similarly dramatic change is observed:

Bergmann's rule exhibited in white-tailed deer

So, if you're feeling guilty about those extra pounds you're still carrying around from holiday feasts or winter vacations, look on the bright side: You're going to stay much warmer this winter than you would without them!

Friday Field Notes: Why is Yellowstone in Montana?

Note: After more than a month-long hiatus in which the blog's author traveled to places as far and exotic as the Galapagos Islands and New Jersey, Friday Field Notes is back! Here's hoping that the natural world provides us all with excitement, beauty, enlightenment, and inspiration in 2013!

In the last few years, you may have driven past a billboard or a truck displaying this eye-catching advertisement:

The ad, containing a stunning aerial shot of Yellowstone's Grand Prismatic Spring, was put out by the Montana Office of Tourism in an attempt to ensure people spend time in Big Sky country on their next Yellowstone trip. The irony of it, however, will not be lost on most: Grand Prismatic rests firmly within Wyoming's borders. 

Yellowstone, oft heralded not just as America's but the world's first national park, is a spectacular and sublime place, so it's no surprise that Montana would want to claim partial "ownership" of it. And technically speaking, 3% of Yellowstone's more than 2.2 million acres is within our borders (1% falls within Idaho, while the remaining 96% makes up the northwest corner of Wyoming). But that's just the thing: only 3% of Yellowstone is within Montana. When one looks at the park's boundaries, this section appears as little more than a straight sliver of land invading south-central Montana. This observation begs the question: Just why exactly is Yellowstone even in Montana? A deeper look at history begins to reveal some of the answers.

Friday Field Notes: The (un)Common Redpoll

A few days ago, an unusual bird showed up in my backyard. I could tell immediately from its size, shape, and plumage that it was a small finch. Overall, it was a fairly plain bird, with plenty of brown stripes and a noticeable white wing bars, not far different from a Pine Siskin. But, whenever the bird turned its head in my direction, it revealed a bright, slightly iridescent red patch just above its eyes. It could only be one thing: a Common Redpoll!

The name is a bit of a misnomer. Sure, if you live in a mountain valley in Alaska or northern Canada, you might see Redpolls as frequently as Chipping Sparrows. But in Montana, these birds only show up sporadically in the winter. A member of the "winter finch" clan, the Cornell Lab of Ornithology describes Common Redpolls as "erratic" migrators, sometimes ending up in places as unusual Arkansas or New Jersey. In irruption years (which this year is certainly shaping up to be), Common Redpolls, along with a variety of other finches and sparrows (and birds of prey - who can forget last year's Snowy Owl surprise?!) move far south of what would be considered their typical range, driven by a scarcity of food.

A Common Redpoll in winter plumage.

Year-round, redpolls are incredibly social birds, sometimes found in flocks of 300 individuals. Even during breeding season, it is not uncommon for multiple pairs of redpolls to nest fairly close together and show a lack of territoriality. Redpolls feed almost exclusively on seeds, and hence, are likely to show up where there is a bird feeder. To increase your chances of attracting a redpoll to your backyard, tempt these birds with thistle or nyjer seeds.

Have you seen a Common Redpoll or any other surprising visitors this winter? Be sure to let us know if you do!

Friday Field Notes: Winter's Other World

There's a whole other world out there that only exists in winter. The arrival of snow literally creates an entirely new habitat not found at any other time of the year. Naturalists know this place as the "subnivean environment."

While we might just see snow as powdery white stuff that accumulates as winter goes on, there is actually a lot happening underneath the surface. And indeed, the word subnivean, which means "under the snow" in Latin, suggests just that. As snow accumulates, it undergoes a variety of transformations: it compacts, melts, and refreezes. All of these changes form what we commonly think of as the snowpack. The snowpack can contain a variety of different layers, some hard, some soft, some deep, some shallow. These layers provide opportunities for small animals to create burrows, tunnels, and other structures that would be much more difficult to maintain in the soil, which is typically frozen throughout the winter.

Small mammals, like mice, voles, and shrews, likely could not survive outside of the subnivean environment. In addition to providing physical space for them to live in, the subnivean provides critical insulation. While the world above the surface is exposed to high winds and temperatures in the negatives, life underneath the snow remains a relatively cozy 32 degrees Fahrenheit! The other benefit of living in the snowpack is the protection it offers from predators.

Of course, these small mammals aren't totally safe. Have you ever seen this?

A fox dives into dinner head-first.

Foxes - as well as coyotes and some owls - are capable of hearing the movement of rodents underneath the snow. They wait patiently, honing in to the animals' exact location. And then, they pounce (or in the case of the owl, swoop). Extraordinary, no?

And then of course, there's this:

A marten emerges empty handed.

American Martens, like most other weasels, have never been afraid of digging in and getting a little dirty (or snowy?). Instead of listening for rodent movement and using stealth to catch their prey, they rely on power and speed to ramble through the snow and grab critters.

Next time you're out skiing or snowshoeing, imagine all the things that are going on beneath your feet! The snow isn't just snow; it's another world.

Friday Field Notes: Winter Birding

The osprey are on winter break in the Bahamas, and the warblers are even further south, soaking up the sun and warm temperatures of central America. As for us? Well, we are faced with the reality of our first significant snow storm of the year in Montana. Winter is long and cold in our great state, and that's why many of the more than 300 avian species that call Montana home for part of the year pack their bags and hit the road (or should I say the airways?). Despite this, winter can still be an incredible time to go birding. Here are some tips to help get you through the cold, snowy months ahead:

- Put out a feeder! The bears are just about gone, and birds are now having to look harder to find critical winter food sources. Once one bird finds your feeder, they all do, and they will stay as long as you keep it filled. Platform feeders are a fantastic option - they attract a wide range of birds, from chickadees to grosbeaks, and they provide an excellent opportunity to get a close-up look at the bird.

- Go for a walk in an area with lots of deciduous trees. Birders often joke during spring migration, "If only those darn leaves didn't get in the way of the birds!" Well, now that the leaves have fallen off the trees, they don't. Brilliant, colorful birds like Evening Grosbeaks, Cedar Waxwings, and House Finches who spend much of their time in trees and shrubs are now strikingly obvious, and the views are unobstructed.

- Don't forget about water. The rich, diverse riparian habitat that lines our streams and rivers and attracts dozens of species in the spring and summer is still filled with birds in the winter. Iconic birds like American Dippers, Great Blue Herons, and Bald Eagles never leave, and winter can be as good a time as any to view them.

- When the snow rolls in, so do the birds. Significant snow storms push birds that typically spend their time at higher elevations (Clark's Nutcrackers, Steller's Jays, and Gray Jays, among others) lower into valleys. Additionally, the snow-covered ground makes it difficult for seed-eating birds (finches, sparrows) to find the food they need. Suddenly, your feeder becomes a wild bird refuge!

A flock of Evening Grosbeaks weathers a storm.

An Evening Grosbeak

What are your winter birding tips?  What birds have you been seeing?  Share your observations in the comments!

Friday Field Notes: Election Edition

As election season "bears" down on us and Americans head to the polls to cast their votes, it can seem as if the weight of the world is suspended above us, hanging by a tiny thread. To cut this tension, ease the panic, and introduce some comic relief, I give you this:

A Naturalist's Interpretation of Election Season

DISCLAIMER: What follows is incredibly cheesy humor that only a naturalist will find even remotely amusing. There is absolutely nothing political about this cartoon whatsoever--just some chuckles for nature nerds like me!

Friday Field Notes: Who's Watching Hoooo(m)?

Have you ever had the experience of coming face to face with an owl?

Incredible birds for a variety of reasons, including their elusive nature, adept hunting skills, and haunting calls, owls have long captured the human imagination. Stories about owls have been passed down for thousands of years in numerous cultures, and even today we assign them meaning (mystery, cunning, wisdom) and relate to them in profound ways.

What I have been most touched by, however, is the way in which owls seem to gaze back at us with the same intent with which we look upon them. The thrill of seeing a bear or moose or eagle is undeniable, but these animals often do little more than acknowledge our presence before dismissing us as a non-threat and moving on to whatever they were doing before we disturbed them. Owls, by comparison, appear to stare directly at us, appear to be going through a series of complex thoughts and judgements. I have sometimes felt as if the bird is actually peering directly into my soul. Sure, many animals display extreme senses of curiosity (especially American Martens), but owls are doing more than checking out what we're up to; they're breaking us down and sizing us up. Maybe I am anthropomorphizing a bit too much; but maybe owls are even more intelligent and complex than we give them credit for.

A Great Gray Owl sizing me up.

I am led to believe that owls watch and study us in ways most other animals do not, ways that we do not truly understand. This places us in unusual position, one in which many people would not be comfortable:  as humans, we are usually the ones placing other animals under the microscope, not vice versa. So the experience of coming face to face with an owl (especially a large one) can be fairly humbling and eye-opening.

A Snowy Owl checking me out from a somewhat unusual vantage point: a roof.

Standing eye-to-eye with an owl stirs up ancient and primal emotions, transporting us to times when we were a bit closer to the world around us. It forces us to re-evaluate our assumptions about nature. It poses much larger questions, none more relevant than: Who's watching whom?

Friday Field Notes: Photo Essay: Fall in Montana

With colors of red, orange, and gold everywhere and the cool, rainy weather bearing down on us, it is evident that things are changing. Long gone are the warm temperatures and sweet (and smoky) smells of summer. It appears that sooner, rather than later, we will be immersed in a world of white. But for now, we can revel in the fact that it is Fall in Montana.

The icy cold waters of Avalanche Creek in Glacier National Park
continue to carve through ancient rock.

Aspens paint the hillsides gold near East Glacier.

A grizzly print high in the Absarokas, an indication that these creatures are moving up in elevation
to feed on critical fall food sources like whitebark pine seeds.

Rattlesnake Creek takes on many moods on an overcast day.

Much-needed moisture relieves the strain of a hot, dry summer throughout the West.

Sunlight slices through storm clouds to pit a shimmering aspen
against the backdrop of an ominous sky.

Red meets gold in the understory of the subalpine forest.

A beaver works diligently to ensure all is in place before yet another make-or-break winter arrives.

The sight of snow atop rocky peaks reminds us that winter is never too far away.

A group of American Coots gather on Lake McDonald as they prepare for winter.

Friday Field Notes

The beautiful weather of late has kept me from dragging winter clothes out from the depths of my closet, and has instead forced me to continue enjoying what nature has to offer. Here's some notes, observations, and photographs from a recent trip up to Glacier National Park:

Colors across the spectrum.

Color

Fall foliage is really starting to take off. The aspens (Populus tremuloides) are shimmering gold, or are quite close to it. Plants of the understory, such as grouse whortleberry (Vaccinium scoparium) and huckleberry (Vaccinium membranaceum), fill the hillsides with shades of red and orange. Contrasted against the rich greens of conifers, the deep grays and purples of the ancient sedimentary cliffs, and the regal blues of Glacier's many alpine lakes, hiking in the park these days is like walking through a dreamland. I don't know that I have ever seen so many colors on display at once!

Bears

If you've ever been to a national park - especially one inhabited by grizzlies - you know how serious the National Park Service is when it comes to bears and safety. This time of year, the message is even more important. As bears prepare for hibernation in late summer and early fall, they enter into hyperphagia, a status literally of excessive hunger and consumption. Feeding primarily on berries, insects, and whitebark pine seeds, bears can easily consume over 15,000 calories per day. The need to constantly find more food and pack on fat leads to bears being particularly active this time of year, and as a result, increases the likelihood of an encounter with a bear. Two days in Glacier yielded three grizzly sightings, one of which was an adult male that essentially popped out of nowhere a mere fifty feet from me while hiking near Bullhead Lake in the Many Glacier valley. The other bears - a sow with her cub of the year - were observed high on a talus slope, likely digging through rocks for moths and other insects. So, to steal a line from the NPS, "Be Bear Aware" if you head out into the hills this fall.

Other Critters Abound

So you're a devoted birder and have read the passage in your Sibley Guide to Western Birds where it says golden eagles (Aquila chrysaetos) nest on rocky cliffs in mountainous areas, but you've only ever seen them on the plains or near agricultural fields. Well, that was me. Until this past weekend, when I managed to spot one soaring high near Swiftcurrent Pass, later coming to a roost on a cliff no more than one-hundred yards from the trail, allowing for a great look through binoculars. A few lucky people might get to see these massive raptors harassing young goats and sheep in an attempt to drive them off cliffs, a fascinating hunting strategy, unless you're the goat.

A young goat, not at all disturbed by my presence

Speaking of goats, there was no shortage of these fuzzy white critters in Glacier. On the Highline Trail near Logan Pass, I was lucky enough to see a ewe and her kid, as well as a lone goat up close and personal (seen to the left). Admittedly, I was a bit more excited than many of you likely are when you see a mountain goat, as this was my first time! Along with all the goats, there was a somewhat uncommon sighting of a bighorn sheep. I've seen sheep before in Wyoming as well as Montana, but this was a vintage scene: high up on a narrow ledge, traversing across loose rock, totally poised (I wish I could move across the side of a mountain like that!). It's observations like these that make you fully appreciate and understand how life has evolved to survive in some of the most challenging landscapes.


Solitude

Perhaps this photo best sums up the weekend...

Tranquility, stillness, and solitude are just some of the words that come to my mind when reflecting upon this scene. The national parks are infamous for their crowds in the height of summer, but fall is a splendid time to be gazing upon Saint Mary Lake. The hordes of people common in July and August are long gone, and one can truly experience some peace and quiet in one the most beautiful places on Earth. To be able to leave city life and the worries of graduate school behind and escape to Glacier is truly a privilege. As Montanans, we should embrace the parks, forests, wilderness, and other natural areas we have right in our backyards - the opportunities for reflection and recreation they afford us are invaluable.

I hope that you too will be able to experience Glacier or another wild place this fall. In case you can't make it out, I'll leave you with a few more photos in an attempt to share the experience! (Photos after the jump).

Friday Field Notes

"What? In Montana?!"

We expect that this will be the reaction of many of you to learning that a Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Tyrannus forficatus) has been making its rounds in eastern Montana. This elegant, long-tailed bird, a member of the Tyrant Flycatcher family (better known around Montana for species such as the Western Wood-Peewee or Olive-sided Flycatcher), has been seen a number of times by birders near Pompey's Pillar National Monument in the past week. According to Montana Field Guide, the state's official database of species information and observations, there have only been 15 recorded observations of Scissor-tailed Flycatcher's in Montana!

Scissor-tailed Flycatcher. Pretty--and pretty weird in Montana.

The bird, whose summer breeding range is limited primarily to Texas and Oklahoma, is notorious for wandering far from its traditional range. With a body similar in size to an American Robin, its forked tail essentially doubles the bird's overall length. Scissor-tailed Flycatchers primarily use open, grassland habitats, including roadsides and agricultural lands. They are often seen perched on fence posts or power lines, scanning the ground for grasshoppers and crickets.

With migration season in full swing, this bird should be well on its way south towards Central America, making its appearance in Montana even more unusual. For birders and naturalists alike, this could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see a spectacular southern bird in our home state. So if you're around Billings this weekend and have a pair of binoculars, be sure to look for a Scissor-tailed Flycatcher. And if you should see it, be sure to let us know!

Happy Birding!

Friday Field Notes

Have you been wondering what’s going on around Missoula? Well, here’s a quick update on some natural history events occurring right in front of our eyes:

Fall Foliage

Although the gorgeous weather of late would have us believe that it’s still summer in western Montana, there are some signs that fall is on its way. Nighttime temperatures are dropping, the birds are stirring, and perhaps most noticeably, the leaves are beginning to turn. In just a few weeks, the Quaking Aspen and Western Larch trees that dot the mountainsides will shine gold, while the various maple trees found around town will fill the streets with shades of red and orange. Already, the larches have begun to turn a lighter green, indicating that it is only a matter of time before fall arrives.

Western Larch paint the hillsides gold

It is these vibrant colors and cooler temperatures that make fall one of the most pleasant times of the year in Montana. Indeed, fall gives us all a perfect excuse to get outside and put our naturalist skills to use.

Looking for ways to enjoy the turning of the seasons? Here’s some ideas:

•         Take a walk through Greenough Park. The towering cottonwoods and other deciduous trees that line Rattlesnake Creek will be putting on a show.
•         Go for a hike in the Rattlesnake National Recreation Area. Many trails in the Sawmill Gulch area climb high onto ridges that provide great views of the larch-covered hillsides.
•         Up for a challenge? Climb the steep slopes above the “M” to the top of Mount Sentinel for great views of fall foliage throughout the Missoula area!

Feathered Flyby

Like the turning of the leaves, the annual migration of birds from their summer breeding range to winter habitat is imminent! Birds are already exhibiting pre-migration behaviors indicative of this great journey. Various species of sparrows, warblers, and other woodland songbirds have gathered into mixed-species flocks, which provide members of the group with greater protection and increased feeding efficiency. Additionally, large groups of ducks and other waterfowl can be seen congregating on lakes and wetlands. Because of this, fall is an incredible time to go birding. The many wildlife refuges found in the region, particularly in the Mission and Bitterroot valleys, provide countless opportunities to observe migratory birds.

 Migration isn’t all about the movement of vast flocks of birds from northern latitudes to warmer climates, however. For many species of birds found in western Montana, migration consists of simply moving down in elevation - rather than in latitude – to escape the harsh conditions of winter. Many of the birds that summer in the region, often nesting high up in the mountains, winter low in valleys and in our backyards! As a result, the movement of birds to lower elevations during fall and winter presents a great opportunity to see rare and unique birds that are secretive and elusive the rest of the year.

Numerous species of finches, including Pine Grosbeaks, Cassin’s Finches, and the stunningly colored Evening Grosbeak, become common sights at backyard bird feeders. In addition, many corvids - such as Steller’s Jays, Gray Jays, and Clark’s Nutcrackers – move to lower elevations where food is more readily available. In the coming weeks, listen for unusual calls or sounds; it could be one of these birds settling in to the valley for winter!

A flock of Evening Grosbeaks invades a Missoula backyard, 2010. 

 So Missoulians, get ready for the many wonderful changes fall brings to our home!