Friday Field Notes: Spring Break Edition

Note: Two weeks ago, like many others around the state, I took the opportunity to get away from Montana's moody spring weather and head out on a Spring Break adventure to warmer climes. Each year, I am drawn by some invisible force to Utah's red rock country, and that is precisely where I landed yet again.  My home will always be amongst the mountains of the Northern Rockies, but the desert offers a type of experience that drives my imagination wild. For anyone with a remote interest in natural history, desert ecology and geology is truly fascinating. Of course, the landscape is also highly photogenic, its bizarre colors and sleek curves a dramatic contrast to the rolling mountains and valleys of Montana. The following are a handful of photos from my recent trip through Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. I hope they inspire you, excite your senses, and conjure up the adventure spirit found within all of us. - Mike Canetta

Fifty-Mile Mountain, a distinct "step" in the southwest's unique geologic formation known as "The Grand Staircase," is an ever-present feature near the town of Escalante.

Over eons, a large, abrupt bend in the river has carved a stunning amphitheater in Coyote Gulch.

(More photos after the jump)

Friday Field Notes: Bluebird Days

Lately, it seems as if the sky is blue more often than not. There is nothing quite like waking up to a brisk, bluebird day in the spring in Montana. The growing strength of the sunshine warms the skin and raises hope that summer is not far away. But it isn't just the sun that illuminates the landscape this time of year.

On a recent outing up Missoula's Waterworks Hill, I heard a soft, chattery whistle sound. Initially, I was caught off-guard, but rather quickly it hit me: Mountain Bluebirds. I panned around, searching for the magnificent cerulean birds, and sure enough, there they were perched on a power line right above me. I don't know why I was so surprised to see them; the sweeping grasslands are perfect bluebird habitat that the birds return to every year. Perhaps it was simply the abruptness with which they arrived. The previous day, there were no bluebirds to be found. Now, there were dozens.

A male Mountain Bluebird with his lunch.

Mountain Bluebirds (Sialia currocoides) are a small member of the thrush family, which includes common birds like the American Robbin, Hermit Thrush, Townsend's Solitaire, and other bluebirds. While common throughout Montana and most of the interior West in the spring and summer, Mountain Bluebirds move as far south as Central America to winter. Rather interestingly, Mountain Bluebirds can tolerate colder habitats than other bluebirds, and some migrate westward to the Sierras for the winter. I suppose they must be pretty hearty, as their early return to the Northern Rockies inevitably results in them being forced to weather a handful of spring snowstorms.

Unlike many bird species, Mountain Bluebirds have largely benefited from human settlement and activity in the West. The clearing of previously forested lands and the expansion of agricultural development has opened up millions of acres of new bluebird habitat. They also have been helped by our affinity for them - there must be hundreds of thousands of "bluebird boxes" scattered across the western United States.

A female Mountain Bluebird hovers while searching for insects.

Like most thrushes, Mountain Bluebirds feed primarily on insects, although their diet is supplemented throughout the year with small fruits and seeds. What sets this particular bird apart from its close relatives, however, is the way in which they sometimes acquire their food. Mountain Bluebirds can often be seen hovering in place, not unlike American Kestrels, as they scan the ground for insects. If prey is found, they quickly swoop down to the ground like a raptor pouncing on a small rodent. It is a spectacular sight to behold, made all the wilder and more intense by the bird's stunning colors.

Over the coming days and weeks, more and more of these magnificent birds are sure to arrive. Their presence on Waterworks Hill and other grassy fields across Montana is likely to be accompanied by that of a close rival, the Western Bluebird. As mating season takes off and the struggle to establish a territory reaches fever pitch, Mountain Bluebirds will clash with Westerns as well as members of their own species over nesting boxes and territories. It will be a spectacle, no doubt. I, for one, will be watching eagerly.

Have you seen any bluebirds yet this spring? Do your bluebird boxes have new residents? Be sure to let us know in the comments!

Friday Field Notes: Sounds of Spring

There are few better harbingers of spring in North America than the millions of birds that begin to arrive and sing about this time each year. Sure, an arbitrary date on the Julian calendar and the act of changing our clocks alerts us to the coming season, but nothing signals the actual arrival of spring and its warmer weather quite like birds and their songs do. And much to my delight,  all kinds of birds are beginning to "spring" up around Montana.

The first sign for me that migration was underway occurred about ten days ago, when I awoke to the sound of an emphatic Killdeer in my yard. Although these shorebirds are year-round residents of western Montana's valley bottoms, this particular pair seems to take off for greener pastures every year in late September, only to return to the same exact spot sometime in March. It was a surprising but welcome event.

One of my squatters on his first day back.

Not long after this punctual plover showed up, I noticed that there was a sudden influx of robins in the area. Like Killdeer, the American Robin is also a year-round resident, but only a handful stick around and brave the winter. Come late February/early March, large flocks of these renowned "early birds" begin to invade. It is safe to say that our lawns and parks will be worm-free any day now.

The surest sign of spring I've received thus far came only a week ago. At the crack of dawn, a Song Sparrow who managed to spend all winter in my backyard began singing his complex, melodic song in an attempt to impress a nearby female. His choruses were joined by dozens of hopeful Black-Capped Chickadees belting our their unmistakable "cheese-bur-ger" song. Then, out of nowhere, I noticed a Spotted Towhee vigorously scratching through leaves and dirt, likely searching for a suitable place to nest.

There have also been a few oddities that have signaled change is in the air. That same day, a small flock of Pine Grosbeaks joined the raucous group of birds around my home, likely beginning their trip up to the higher elevations where they breed. Even more shocking was the sight of a Mountain Chickadee on my feeder and a Townsend's Solitaire taking a bath in my gutter, sure indications that birds are moving around and transitioning from winter to summer habitat.

All of this recent bird activity around my home in Missoula coincides with the wealth of observations from around the state of Red-winged Blackbirds beginning to sing and court. It is only a matter of time, really, until Western Meadowlarks arrive and grace us with their bubbly verses. I'll really be a believer, though, when Mountain Bluebirds return to paint our hillsides the color of the sky. 

What's going on in your backyard? We'd love to hear from you in the comments!

Bitterroot Valley surprises.

So often, we tend to think of "natural history" in terms of the arguably more traditional definition of nature, specifically as the world surrounding humankind but existing independently of or uninfluenced by human activities.Certainly, this is a major part of natural history (the history outside of our own species), but it's so important to also include the history that involves our coexistence with and stewardship of the natural world.

2012 © Sara J. Call

Which brings me to The Big Ditch. There is a large canal that begins at the corner of Lake Como and stretches up past Stevensville to the bench lands southeast of Florence, delivering water to agricultural land (over 1,300 users) along a span of 75 miles. It is 25 feet across at the Lake, and gradually dwindles to a third that size before petering out to transect ditches completely. 

2012 © Sara J. Call

2012 © Sara J. Call

If you grew up in agricultural land as I did, you know that even though water only fills canals and ditches for a few months out of the year, they create a significant amount of riparian-type habitat. And even though they go in relatively straight lines and don't meander like streams and creeks we like to picnic alongside, they are home to many of the same creatures we know and love near other waterways. 

The Big Ditch (more formally known as the Bitter Root Main Canal) has an impressive history. Copper King Marcus Daly first conceived of a giant canal when he moved to the Bitter Root Valley and founded Hamilton in 1887. He built a few irrigation projects in the area, but his plans for a "big ditch" along the length of the entire valley were ended by his death in 1900. That same year, though, an intrepid business man named Samuel Dinsmore joined the irrigation game, and made plans to build a pipeline and canal that took water from the west fork of the Bitterroot River and ran parallel the river to Hamilton. After a few years, when finances ran low, he attracted wealthy investors from Chicago to finance his project, and it was then he founded the Bitter Root Irrigation Company and added the plan to take water from a storage-worthy fortified Lake Como. The scheme included the grand idea to buy up cheap land, bring irrigation water to it all, and resell hundreds of "orchard plots" to out-of-towners for a hefty profit. So, the "Apple Boom" of Western Montana was launched into full gear. Hundreds of speculative land buyers came to partake in the supposed fruit cornucopia of the Bitterroot Valley. The Big Ditch was dug with massive steam shovels and communities were constructed, and the since-burned lavishly glamorous Bitter Root Inn was built. The promotional scheme seemed to be working.

But farmers found they could not afford to pay for water rights, and the land was not as perfectly suited for McIntosh apples as advertised. By 1917, the Bitter Root Valley Irrigation Company went bankrupt, and finally in 1920 the company became a municipal corporation run by the farmers that remained to raise livestock, vegetables, and wheat. Only a few orchards remain. 

2012 © Sara J. Call

But the ditch remains. There is no sign or historical plaque marking it. It is still fully operational. And it is impressive; from Lake Como, it is sent up on to a bench on the west edge of the valley, then, a few miles later, it goes into a massive pipe, off a steep hillside, and disappears under Highway 93. It reappears on the other side of the pavement and crosses over the Bitterroot River, where it threads across the valley and weaves along the bench lands paralleling the river along the Selway Range. 

2012 © Sara J. Call

I managed to follow it and intersect the ditch every so often along its length. I took unpaved residential roads, followed the Skalkaho Pass road, got lost in rural neighborhoods following transect ditches up to their origins, and found myself amazed at the immensity--and beauty--of the irrigation project.    

While out on a side road that I had successfully found crossed the Big Ditch, I paused to take a photograph at a sweeping bend of the canal that held some water from both snow melt and a dripping pipe that funneled a creek across near the bridge. I was stunned when I heard the following sound, and then saw its creator:

2012 © Sara J. Call

Yes, that's right; the red-winged blackbirds are beginning to return; spring is imminent! (I believe the one I heard and saw was a bachelor or yearling red-winged blackbird, recognizable by its muted or orange shoulder patches. These young guys return to gather in bachelor flocks rather than stake out territory like older males. He was smaller and up in a tree, not down near an obvious nesting site along the canal.)

All in all, what a magnificent adventure. And what a wonderful reminder that our cultural history remains so intertwined with that of the natural world, that even the things that many may believe are a threat to the natural world (ie: agriculture) also (or rather) provide habitat for the creatures with which we coexist.

As the sun set in the Bitterroot Valley, and as I paralleled the last leg of the tapering Big Ditch, I saw a group of white-tailed deer pause in a dry grass-filled pasture. The clouds were painted pink in the sky above them, and for a moment they looked curiously toward me before lifting their fluffy tails and bounding away toward higher ground. Below us, the lights of the city of Stevensville twinkled. The Bitterroot Valley held so many lovely surprises.   

2012 © Sara J. Call

For further information:

Bitter Root Irrigation District: Ditch History

The Big Ditch and the Mcintosh Red: Early Boosterism in Montana's Bitter Root Valley

Frank Lloyd Wright (and Bitter Root Valley)

Montana Birding and Nature Trail

Montana Heritage Project 

US Bureau of Reclamation: Bitter Root Project

http://www.ultimatemontana.com/sectionpages/Section7/Articles/thebigditch.html

February in the Bitterroot.

Nearly a month ago, Bitterroot Bill (the yellow-bellied marmot, cousin to groundhog Punxsutawney Phil) predicted the imminence of spring--or, more accurately, he didn't show himself at all on the overcast Groundhog Day at the Lee Metcalf National Wildlife Refuge. That may be hard to believe with all the winter storm warnings we have been getting, but we can always hope.

© Sara J. Call 2012

There's quite a bit less snow in the Bitterroot Valley, and quite a bit more sun. I drive out there every so often to get out from under the grey skies that have been frequenting Missoula Valley as of late. Even when the sky is overcast in the Bitterroot, it will open up to let rays of sun burst through, which is always wonderful. Last week, I drove down through Stevensville and took a loop through the Lee Metcalf Refuge to catch those rays of sunlight. There's a surprising amount of bird-watching to be had along the ponds, even now. Before long, I'm sure one will be able to spot a muskrat or two patrolling the thawing waterways.

© Sara J. Call 2012

Briefly, some interesting history about Lee Metcalf National Wildlife Refuge: it was founded in 1963 and renamed to 'Lee Metcalf' in 1978 in honor of the late senator that helped establish conservation projects across the state of Montana. The refuge is a total of 2,800 acres. Natural trails wind through 160 acres of ponds, sloughs, and river bottoms. While it predominately caters to providing habitat for migratory birds, the refuge also contains plenty of other creatures: beavers, muskrats, osprey, and yellow-bellied marmots, to name a few. Fish are also protected residents. The habitat is actively managed, meaning that people control water levels using siphons and pumps; provide weed control using fire, mechanical means, and sometimes cattle; and allow sportsman to come birding during hunting season. All of the management techniques are necessary to help maintain healthy wetlands and riparian areas in the refuge, where the riparian zones are human-enhanced and dependent on periodic drawdowns.


The Bitterroot Range provides a wondrous backdrop to the wetlands. I saw dozens of ducks (mallards and others) and Canada geese, and watched an American coot dabbling near the shoreline, tipping forward and bobbing with tail pointing skyward for a few moments before settling back upright on the water to swallow whatever he had found to eat. 

© Sara J. Call 2012

© USFWS Mountain Prairie

A great blue heron stood reflected in a small pond as the sun set, and the clouds were splashed with an amazing array of pink and purple that we rarely see in Missoula skies. Before I could document the moment in a photo, the heron hunched his lanky frame and lifted away into the dusk, scattering droplets of water like beads.

 In the coming months, the red-winged and yellow-headed blackbirds will return, which is my favorite time of spring. You can definitely bet on good birdwatching at Lee Metcalf NWR, year-round. 


See our spring post on the birds of Lee Metcalf from last year here.

REFERENCES:
"Get Ready For Spring" - NBC Montana, 2 Feb 2012
"Lee Metcalf Refuge Revitalizes Pond with Fire, Cattle" - 4 Nov 2011
Montana Birding Trail - Lee Metcalf NWR
USFWS Lee Metcalf National Wildlife Refuge website
Wikipedia entry

Spring Migration

The spring migration is urgent and depending on the species of birds, there is a specific optimal time when the birds need to arrive for breeding.

So who arrives first?

Yellow-headed Blackbird: March 16 - April 30

Yellow-headed Blackbirds have a very systematic migration plan. Traveling to Montana from as far south as central Mexico, yellow-headed blackbirds migrate in large flocks that are segregated by sex and age. Arrival on the breeding grounds in spring is an orderly process. Mature males migrate first, followed by mature females as much as two weeks later. Next come the first-year males, followed in about a week by first-year females.

Swainson’s Hawk: April 1- April 30

The fall migration of this species is a spectacular phenomenon, as virtually all of the world's population of Swainson's Hawks funnels through Central America within a few days. Until very recently, these hawks were thought to disperse across the whole of South America, and no one really knew where or how they spent the northern winter.

Who are the final migrants to arrive?

Yellow Warblers: May 1 - Jun 15

The first Yellow Warblers to arrive in the U.S. are those that will reach southern California in mid-March. These birds, representing two subspecies, pass up the Pacific coast and reach southern Alaska by mid-May. The other five subspecies will arrive in the U.S. in early April. Their movement is rapid; some of these birds will reach the Great Lakes region before the end of April, and others may arrive in interior Alaska by mid-May. But for us, we will see these birds come May!

Western Tanager: May 16 - Jun 15

The majority of this striking species winters in southwestern Mexico and Central America. The actual migratory routes of Western Tanagers are largely unknown. These birds are nocturnal migrants that travel at high altitude covering great distances in one night!

All of these birds can be spotted at the Lee Metcalf National Wildlife Refuge.

Click Here for a list of all birds living at Lee Metcalf National Wildlife Refuge.

For more information on bird migration, check out the eNature website.