Here was the mother on the first day of incubation. She left the nest so rarely during incubation that I wonder how she possibly got enough to eat. I didn't see the male feeding her at all over that time.
Showing posts with label flycatchers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flycatchers. Show all posts
Thursday, July 9, 2015
Sunshine!
Today, we finally saw some sunshine for the first part of the day. Although clouds still hovered over the mountains and in the canyons, it was a joy.
Shyla and I thoroughly enjoyed a sunny ride!
Although the sun was shining, the world was still so wet that we got soaked despite the sunshine.
I was so happy to see the sun that I rode home to pick up R and take a few photos of him in the wildflowers. Full sunlight isn't best for a black dog photoshoot but it's better than pouring rain!
It was a good day for the Cordilleran Flycatcher couple who are nesting under our deck. Here's a photo of the male, keeping an eye on me, as he protected the nest.
He's been protecting the nest for a long time. The mother was incubating eggs for 19 days. Most years, the eggs hatch after 15 days. For that reason, I was getting worried that the eggs had been damaged by the cold and wet weather. But, yesterday, I saw one nestling by peeking through a crack in the deck, and I did a little happy dance. The mother is still hunkered down, keeping the nesting(s) warm.
Here was the mother on the first day of incubation. She left the nest so rarely during incubation that I wonder how she possibly got enough to eat. I didn't see the male feeding her at all over that time.
Typically, the babies leave the nest around 2 weeks after hatching. However, nothing seems "typical" this year. Their development might be slowed by the lack of insects flying around for their parents to snag. The insects disappeared when the cold rain started many days ago. Here's a photo of mom getting ready to go out and catch some flies.
I'm hoping that we return to normal weather soon, for the sake of my sanity and for the sake of the wildlife, including our resident Flycatchers!
Here was the mother on the first day of incubation. She left the nest so rarely during incubation that I wonder how she possibly got enough to eat. I didn't see the male feeding her at all over that time.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
My small contribution
For my wonderful Acadia, now departed for seven years but never far from my heart. I spotted these flowers on the day of her death and thought that they were heralding her passage into heaven. 'Til we meet again...
Thank goodness, since that sad day, more dogs have filled my heart with love. Our current pack, K and R, make me smile every single day. In the photo below, they did a recall from across our wildflower-packed meadow. K followed so closely on R's heels that they appear to be a black lab with a chocolate tail!
Today has been dubbed a "Be a change for animals" day. I think that my contribution, however small, to this cause is to encourage people to train their dogs, using happy and humane methods, so that their dogs can have full and interesting lives. If dogs are trained, they won't be banished to the back yard or the basement but can be an integral part of their humans' lives. I hope that this notion is apparent in the stories that I tell in this blog.
I know for a fact that many dogs who have "good homes" in fact sit in the yard all day every day and get fed daily. While those dogs don't need to be "rescued" in the traditional sense, I always feel my heart sink when I see them, wishing that someone would coax them to their full potential so that they could have more fun in life. Just like us, they have only one life to live and deserve the chance to live it to the fullest. I think that my regular readership doesn't need to hear this... but maybe someone else will stumble across my blog and be inspired by my stories of adventures with my dogs.
Today, K and I went for a morning mountain bike ride, enjoying blue skies, warm sun, and stunning wildflowers while the runners, including R, had their own adventure. K and I stopped to bask in the glory of summertime!
As I thought about Acadia today, I was struck by how unique each dog is. K is so different from any dog I've ever had in my life. She's easily scared, very sensitive, and needs frequent confidence boosts. I can see these traits in her body language in the photo below. She seems to be asking "What do you want me to do? Just tell me, and I'll gladly comply." I've never before had such a eager-to-please dog as K.
Upon arriving home from our ride, I checked on our flycatcher family under the deck. Last night, the quartet of nestlings snuggled in the cup nest sitting on a tray under our deck. I peeked through the deck boards to capture an instant when a parent arrived with a fly in his/her beak and offered it to the young ones.
Last night, I heard the whir of the nestlings practicing flapping their wings from below the deck boards, and I thought that they'd fly soon, perhaps today. So, this morning, when K and I returned from our mountain bike ride, I initially felt a little sad when I saw the nest itself empty. Then, I realized that the babies had moved to a different section of the tray, where they weren't in the nest itself. Below, a parent perched on the nest and fed the little ones who sat on the bare tray behind the nest.
I think that these youngsters will depart in the next day or two. Every year, I have bittersweet feelings when I see them flutter away. I miss watching the family when they're gone but I know that the fledglings have made a huge step toward surviving to adulthood. In that spirit, I cheer them on!
Thank goodness, since that sad day, more dogs have filled my heart with love. Our current pack, K and R, make me smile every single day. In the photo below, they did a recall from across our wildflower-packed meadow. K followed so closely on R's heels that they appear to be a black lab with a chocolate tail!
Today has been dubbed a "Be a change for animals" day. I think that my contribution, however small, to this cause is to encourage people to train their dogs, using happy and humane methods, so that their dogs can have full and interesting lives. If dogs are trained, they won't be banished to the back yard or the basement but can be an integral part of their humans' lives. I hope that this notion is apparent in the stories that I tell in this blog.
I know for a fact that many dogs who have "good homes" in fact sit in the yard all day every day and get fed daily. While those dogs don't need to be "rescued" in the traditional sense, I always feel my heart sink when I see them, wishing that someone would coax them to their full potential so that they could have more fun in life. Just like us, they have only one life to live and deserve the chance to live it to the fullest. I think that my regular readership doesn't need to hear this... but maybe someone else will stumble across my blog and be inspired by my stories of adventures with my dogs.Today, K and I went for a morning mountain bike ride, enjoying blue skies, warm sun, and stunning wildflowers while the runners, including R, had their own adventure. K and I stopped to bask in the glory of summertime!
As I thought about Acadia today, I was struck by how unique each dog is. K is so different from any dog I've ever had in my life. She's easily scared, very sensitive, and needs frequent confidence boosts. I can see these traits in her body language in the photo below. She seems to be asking "What do you want me to do? Just tell me, and I'll gladly comply." I've never before had such a eager-to-please dog as K.
Upon arriving home from our ride, I checked on our flycatcher family under the deck. Last night, the quartet of nestlings snuggled in the cup nest sitting on a tray under our deck. I peeked through the deck boards to capture an instant when a parent arrived with a fly in his/her beak and offered it to the young ones.
Last night, I heard the whir of the nestlings practicing flapping their wings from below the deck boards, and I thought that they'd fly soon, perhaps today. So, this morning, when K and I returned from our mountain bike ride, I initially felt a little sad when I saw the nest itself empty. Then, I realized that the babies had moved to a different section of the tray, where they weren't in the nest itself. Below, a parent perched on the nest and fed the little ones who sat on the bare tray behind the nest.
I think that these youngsters will depart in the next day or two. Every year, I have bittersweet feelings when I see them flutter away. I miss watching the family when they're gone but I know that the fledglings have made a huge step toward surviving to adulthood. In that spirit, I cheer them on!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Investing in the forest's future
The sunset glow on K's fur last night brought out its reddish chocolate highlights. She is so beautiful to me.
Then, this morning, K headed out onto our trails, fairly early, so I was surprised to be accosted by the local seven-pack of dogs at the start. After reaching truce with this bunch for the winter, they've been scaring K again. Recently, K snapped at one of the herding dogs who had just nipped her, and the whole pack went into high intensity fight-or-flight mode. It scared both of us more than I care to admit but a sharp yell and inserting myself between K and the pack stopped the fracas.
Since then, I've figured out a new strategy. I hop off my bike and set it up as a shield for K against the incoming dog missiles. It slows the dogs who are charging at us enough for their human to assert some authority and usually peace prevails. Moreover, by acting as her protector, I seem to calm K. Despite our so-far successful strategy, I'd prefer to avoid them altogether, however, so we'll start getting out even earlier. Funny, they're usually the only other people and animals that we see on the trails and usually within the first five minutes of our ride. Whew.
Today, after our canine interaction, K headed straight for the deep pine forest, where billows of green pollen exploded off pine boughs whenever we brushed against them. Yes, pine pollen season has just begun. That means that asthma season for me. K didn't mind - I caught her hurdling a small log across our trail.
After some hard riding through the air made thick with pollen, we took a break atop a boulder outcropping. What blue skies, absolutely endless in their depth and devoid of even a cloud wisp.
I carefully looked over the tiny flowers that are giving our forest floor a blue hue right now - low penstamons. I noticed the light fuzz on the step and outside of the flowers looking almost like sparkly dew.
While I was engrossed by these tiny gems, as always, K found a sentry post in the shade behind me and covered my back. I never trained her to guard me - it seemed to come naturally to her.
After I dropped K off at home, I took a sinuous path that passes a very old homestead. All that remains is the boulders that comprised the foundation. However, surrounding the crumbling foundation, the flowers that the inhabitants planted bloom every year. Just today, the lilac had started its song.
This sight felt ironic to me, as I stopped and enjoyed the fruits of the labor of people who are probably long gone. We recently planted 80 tiny seedlings on our land, about half Ponderosa Pines and half Lilacs. It's a labor of love, an investment in the future of our forest, knowing that these plants and trees may not reach their full glory in our lifetime. That's why I especially appreciated the 8' tall blooming lilac today.
Further along, I hit a wildlife corridor, much like Black Bear Trail. I'd love to put a camera there but it's too far from home. I saw many signs of bears foraging and scent marking, and I saw their favorite foods slowly growing and blossoming. Chokecherries always capture my fancy because their blossoms have such flashy stamens, reminding me of my departed yellow lab's long blond eyelashes.
The chokecherries bloomed close to the only waterfall anywhere on my riding routes. And, most years, it's a trickle. This year, I could hear it from 75 yards away as the rainwater of recent days tumbled down a ravine.
I think that we have a spectacular wildflower season ahead of us because of our multi-day rain storm. The Cordilleran flycatchers who nest under our deck hope that we have banner year of flies ahead of us.
Our nesting pair arrived from Mexico on May 30 and immediately started constructing a nest on the tray that I built them under our deck. In our first years in this house, they'd try to nest atop the deck's supporting posts, and they lost their nests to predators every year. Since starting to use the trays, they've had a 100% success rate. Just yesterday, the female began incubating her eggs - usually four. Her tail and head barely protruded above the sides of the tray. My fingers are crossed for our pair. Life is so precarious.
Then, this morning, K headed out onto our trails, fairly early, so I was surprised to be accosted by the local seven-pack of dogs at the start. After reaching truce with this bunch for the winter, they've been scaring K again. Recently, K snapped at one of the herding dogs who had just nipped her, and the whole pack went into high intensity fight-or-flight mode. It scared both of us more than I care to admit but a sharp yell and inserting myself between K and the pack stopped the fracas.Since then, I've figured out a new strategy. I hop off my bike and set it up as a shield for K against the incoming dog missiles. It slows the dogs who are charging at us enough for their human to assert some authority and usually peace prevails. Moreover, by acting as her protector, I seem to calm K. Despite our so-far successful strategy, I'd prefer to avoid them altogether, however, so we'll start getting out even earlier. Funny, they're usually the only other people and animals that we see on the trails and usually within the first five minutes of our ride. Whew.
Today, after our canine interaction, K headed straight for the deep pine forest, where billows of green pollen exploded off pine boughs whenever we brushed against them. Yes, pine pollen season has just begun. That means that asthma season for me. K didn't mind - I caught her hurdling a small log across our trail.
After some hard riding through the air made thick with pollen, we took a break atop a boulder outcropping. What blue skies, absolutely endless in their depth and devoid of even a cloud wisp.
I carefully looked over the tiny flowers that are giving our forest floor a blue hue right now - low penstamons. I noticed the light fuzz on the step and outside of the flowers looking almost like sparkly dew.
While I was engrossed by these tiny gems, as always, K found a sentry post in the shade behind me and covered my back. I never trained her to guard me - it seemed to come naturally to her.
After I dropped K off at home, I took a sinuous path that passes a very old homestead. All that remains is the boulders that comprised the foundation. However, surrounding the crumbling foundation, the flowers that the inhabitants planted bloom every year. Just today, the lilac had started its song.
This sight felt ironic to me, as I stopped and enjoyed the fruits of the labor of people who are probably long gone. We recently planted 80 tiny seedlings on our land, about half Ponderosa Pines and half Lilacs. It's a labor of love, an investment in the future of our forest, knowing that these plants and trees may not reach their full glory in our lifetime. That's why I especially appreciated the 8' tall blooming lilac today.Further along, I hit a wildlife corridor, much like Black Bear Trail. I'd love to put a camera there but it's too far from home. I saw many signs of bears foraging and scent marking, and I saw their favorite foods slowly growing and blossoming. Chokecherries always capture my fancy because their blossoms have such flashy stamens, reminding me of my departed yellow lab's long blond eyelashes.
The chokecherries bloomed close to the only waterfall anywhere on my riding routes. And, most years, it's a trickle. This year, I could hear it from 75 yards away as the rainwater of recent days tumbled down a ravine.
I think that we have a spectacular wildflower season ahead of us because of our multi-day rain storm. The Cordilleran flycatchers who nest under our deck hope that we have banner year of flies ahead of us.
Our nesting pair arrived from Mexico on May 30 and immediately started constructing a nest on the tray that I built them under our deck. In our first years in this house, they'd try to nest atop the deck's supporting posts, and they lost their nests to predators every year. Since starting to use the trays, they've had a 100% success rate. Just yesterday, the female began incubating her eggs - usually four. Her tail and head barely protruded above the sides of the tray. My fingers are crossed for our pair. Life is so precarious.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
K's 'tragic' expression? And ladybugs galore.
Summer. Warm sun. Birds singing. Hummingbirds buzzing. Breakfast on the deck with K by my side and 'my' flycatcher family calling from the trees. They fledged more than a week ago but still snag flies out of the air in the clearing around our house. K and I enthusiastically headed out into the forest today to enjoy summer.
K and I pedaled straight to our view point, where I took her photo.
Then, I realized all these photos might help me with a question that my vet has repeatedly asked me - whether her face looks swollen or has a 'tragic' expression. This subtle facial change can give insight into how to tweak K's thyroid medications. The problem is that, even when the vet has said that K's face looks swollen and tragic in the past, I haven't been able to see it. So, below I included a photo from 8 weeks ago. Do you think that her face today looks different from then?
Here's another one from the same day 8 weeks ago but from a different angle. What do you think? Is her face more 'swollen' or 'tragic' today than 8 weeks ago?
K's thyroid problems are tough to manage because, not only is her thyroid gland gradually failing, but her body cannot convert T4, the common thyroid supplement, into the other forms of thyroid hormone, including T3. Most dog's and people's bodies can make this conversion so managing hypothyroidism is relatively simple - you simply give them oral T4. In K's case, my poor vet has to try to tweak each component of thyroid hormone separately. In her last test, one component was normal and another was low but yet another seemed to contradict the other two. Befuddling, don't you think?
Because of the confounding blood test results, my vet has been asking me a ton of questions about K's body and behavior to decide how to proceed - including the one about her face. My vet tends to trust my observations, perhaps more than she should, because she knows how closely I watch K. For the moment, we've started 'tweaking' the meds but my vet said that it might take a few tries to get it right.
After I took K's photo on top of the world today, I noticed a ladybug or two crawling on a Limber Pine Tree that sits courageously on the pinnacle of this windswept peak. Limber Pines have exceptionally flexible branches. I can bend a branch like spaghetti without breaking it. In the photo, three stunted trees perch, shoulder-to-shoulder, with a beautiful mountain view but frequent gale-force winds buffeting them. The middle one is the Limber Pine.
When I looked more closely at the ruby-red ladybugs bedecking the Pine's needles and cones, I noticed that they all marched from the same hidden spot under a branch. I lifted up a bough and voila!
A roiling mass, the size of a softball, of ladybugs crawled all over each other.
This crowd of beautiful beetles inhabited the east side of the tree where sunlight would have touched them soon if they hadn't hidden in the shade of pine needles. I've read that ladybugs congregate when they're preparing to hibernate. Perhaps our cold weather a couple of days ago, when the damp air never warmed above 45 degrees, triggered autumn-like behavior in these ladies. I'd have to guess that our return to summer will have them flying again soon.
K seemed less anxious today despite picking up a bear scent and racing toward it with a vengeance early in the ride. After that, she kicked back and trotted along at my relaxed pace. We girls had a peaceful sojourn in the forest.
We noticed a white lacy flower, Yarrow, which has been quietly blooming for at least a month. This flower lacks the pizazz of some other mountain flowers so I easily overlook it. But, I discovered that when I look very closely, it's an intricate puzzle of tiny flowers woven together with orange pistils projecting upward (click on the photo to see closeup). It provides splashes of white in the midst of the oceans of purple and yellow flowers that tend to capture my attention.
Enjoy summer. If the ladybugs are right, autumn will be upon us in the blink of an eye!
K and I pedaled straight to our view point, where I took her photo.
Then, I realized all these photos might help me with a question that my vet has repeatedly asked me - whether her face looks swollen or has a 'tragic' expression. This subtle facial change can give insight into how to tweak K's thyroid medications. The problem is that, even when the vet has said that K's face looks swollen and tragic in the past, I haven't been able to see it. So, below I included a photo from 8 weeks ago. Do you think that her face today looks different from then?
Here's another one from the same day 8 weeks ago but from a different angle. What do you think? Is her face more 'swollen' or 'tragic' today than 8 weeks ago?
K's thyroid problems are tough to manage because, not only is her thyroid gland gradually failing, but her body cannot convert T4, the common thyroid supplement, into the other forms of thyroid hormone, including T3. Most dog's and people's bodies can make this conversion so managing hypothyroidism is relatively simple - you simply give them oral T4. In K's case, my poor vet has to try to tweak each component of thyroid hormone separately. In her last test, one component was normal and another was low but yet another seemed to contradict the other two. Befuddling, don't you think?Because of the confounding blood test results, my vet has been asking me a ton of questions about K's body and behavior to decide how to proceed - including the one about her face. My vet tends to trust my observations, perhaps more than she should, because she knows how closely I watch K. For the moment, we've started 'tweaking' the meds but my vet said that it might take a few tries to get it right.
After I took K's photo on top of the world today, I noticed a ladybug or two crawling on a Limber Pine Tree that sits courageously on the pinnacle of this windswept peak. Limber Pines have exceptionally flexible branches. I can bend a branch like spaghetti without breaking it. In the photo, three stunted trees perch, shoulder-to-shoulder, with a beautiful mountain view but frequent gale-force winds buffeting them. The middle one is the Limber Pine.
When I looked more closely at the ruby-red ladybugs bedecking the Pine's needles and cones, I noticed that they all marched from the same hidden spot under a branch. I lifted up a bough and voila!
A roiling mass, the size of a softball, of ladybugs crawled all over each other.
This crowd of beautiful beetles inhabited the east side of the tree where sunlight would have touched them soon if they hadn't hidden in the shade of pine needles. I've read that ladybugs congregate when they're preparing to hibernate. Perhaps our cold weather a couple of days ago, when the damp air never warmed above 45 degrees, triggered autumn-like behavior in these ladies. I'd have to guess that our return to summer will have them flying again soon.K seemed less anxious today despite picking up a bear scent and racing toward it with a vengeance early in the ride. After that, she kicked back and trotted along at my relaxed pace. We girls had a peaceful sojourn in the forest.
We noticed a white lacy flower, Yarrow, which has been quietly blooming for at least a month. This flower lacks the pizazz of some other mountain flowers so I easily overlook it. But, I discovered that when I look very closely, it's an intricate puzzle of tiny flowers woven together with orange pistils projecting upward (click on the photo to see closeup). It provides splashes of white in the midst of the oceans of purple and yellow flowers that tend to capture my attention.
Enjoy summer. If the ladybugs are right, autumn will be upon us in the blink of an eye!
Friday, July 24, 2009
Flycatchers fly and alpine hike
Yesterday, the adventurer from the brood of Cordilleran Flycatchers nesting under our deck took flight in the morning. Around midday, the second flitted off into the trees without me seeing his momentous flight.
By 7:30PM last night, I thought that a pair of chicks would spend one more night in the nest when I took this photo of the lingering duo.
Then, as I watched the Tour de France on the deck at dusk, I heard fluttering under the deck and mom chirping vociferously. I ran to the edge of the deck, and I saw both babies on the ground just below a pine tree. While I grabbed my camera, one flew into the tree. I captured a photo of the one still resting on the pine needles.
Then, he fluttered, hesitated on the ground, and miraculously lifted off! He landed on a pine branch just above him. Due to the failing light, it's difficult to see him in the photo.
This fluffy fledgling immediately embarked on a series of short flights from one tree to another, and landed next to his sibling. A parent promptly perched next to the babies and called to her spouse. An answer echoed from the nearby forest.
The family is still nearby today. I can hear the parents calling back and forth in the forest just outside our clearing. I love hearing them and knowing that their nestlings have flourished so far.
Today, K and I headed up to the thin air for a hike that I'll write more about tomorrow. We hiked among clear mountain lakes and wildflowers.
K swam and then soaked up the sun.
By 7:30PM last night, I thought that a pair of chicks would spend one more night in the nest when I took this photo of the lingering duo.
Then, as I watched the Tour de France on the deck at dusk, I heard fluttering under the deck and mom chirping vociferously. I ran to the edge of the deck, and I saw both babies on the ground just below a pine tree. While I grabbed my camera, one flew into the tree. I captured a photo of the one still resting on the pine needles.
Then, he fluttered, hesitated on the ground, and miraculously lifted off! He landed on a pine branch just above him. Due to the failing light, it's difficult to see him in the photo.
This fluffy fledgling immediately embarked on a series of short flights from one tree to another, and landed next to his sibling. A parent promptly perched next to the babies and called to her spouse. An answer echoed from the nearby forest.The family is still nearby today. I can hear the parents calling back and forth in the forest just outside our clearing. I love hearing them and knowing that their nestlings have flourished so far.
Today, K and I headed up to the thin air for a hike that I'll write more about tomorrow. We hiked among clear mountain lakes and wildflowers.
K swam and then soaked up the sun.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
K and I explore
True summer speeds by at our elevation so I'm trying to immerse myself in its warmth and bounty. K and I hope to hike up near the Divide tomorrow if the thunderstorms abate. But, for today, I pedaled and she ran through our forest. As we rolled past an imposing rocky prominence, I realized that we'd never scrambled to the top. So, I dropped my bike, and we started picking our way to the top. I carefully chose my route to avoid the sheer walls that I couldn't have climbed. K followed me closely, and we finally emerged to see blue sky and mountains.
The rocks dropped of precipitously to the west so I kept K close. She panted like a locomotive in the strong sun. I think that her squinting eyes need doggles (doggie sunglasses)!
I soon started to cautiously wend my way down through the boulders and cliffs but couldn't remember the easy route that I'd found while climbing up. I slid under a young pine tree and K stayed stock-still at the top.
Next, I barely squeezed between two boulders. K stood at the top with a look telling me that she had no intention of following my route.
I pondered what to do. K can get scared to the point of complete shut-down when asked to negotiate tough obstacles. However, that's during agility training. For example, it took two years for K to decide to walk across a teeter-totter (even now, she's eternally so proud of herself that she'd play teeter-totter all day if I'd let her). For about a year of that time, she wouldn't even go within 15 yards of the teeter-totter.
However, as I looked up at her this morning, I realized that she'd never been scared by natural terrain. She's always easily negotiated boulder fields and even single-log bridges high over creeks. In fact, in the woods, she always moves with a natural confidence peppered with a dose of suitable caution. So, I kept descending, thinking that she'd find the 'easy' route that I'd used to go up. She still didn't move.
Uh oh. Now, I started considering climbing back up to lead her down. First, I tried one more trick, disappearing behind a boulder despite my niggling fear that she'd leap off the cliff to get to me. R would leap but all my past experience said that K wouldn't. Sure enough, she trotted down to my side in about 5 seconds by the least technical and very gradual route we'd used on the way up. Whew. What a smart girl. I'm not sure why she posed so long on top of the cliff, unless she was angling for some statuesque photos.
As we rolled toward home, K skidded to a stop to sniff a scratched out depression that annihilated my tire tracks that I'd left only 30 minutes earlier. Bobcats, lions, and coyotes all scratch dirt into small piles, leaving shallow holes, to mark their territories. These carnivores prefer to make these scratchings in prominent locations like the middle of a trail. I found a small piece of scat, probably from a bobcat, in the dirt pile. As I checked it out, K's nose dropped to the ground, and she purposefully trotted off into the forest. Her calm purposeful demeanor suggested that she was running late for an appointment with the bobcat. I called her back and had to laugh. We humans and dogs are so different in some ways. But, I love that K makes me notice animal signs that I'd otherwise whoosh past without a second glance.
In the interest of full honesty, K insisted that I confess that I cussed at her later in the ride. I was riding down a very technical trail that I can barely negotiate even when I tunnel every iota of my attention into seeking the easiest line of travel. K chose that moment to streak off like a predator after prey, pulling my eyes away from the trail and to her. I yelled for her to come and simultaneously lost control of my bike. Sometimes, the combination of keeping an eye on my dog and riding on trails exceeds my mental bandwidth. That's why K wears a bell but it's not foolproof. Fortunately, I managed to avoid a full fall but it scared me since my spine is still recovering from my last crash. As I felt the vibrations reverberate up my spine after landing hard on my feet, I cussed K, not loudly, but just barely audibly. Moments like that one test my zen abilities but, seconds later, I managed to find a happy tone and give her treats because she returned to me pronto when I called her.
After leaving K at home, I rode some more on my own as the clouds gathered, organized, and swelled over the mountains. I spotted a colony of new flowers invading an aspen grove where columbines ruled just last week. These plants are the antithesis of columbines. They're almost 2 feet tall, stout, and look indomitable. Despite their distinctive features, I haven't managed to identify them, except that they're probably in the Figwort family. The leaves are compound, deeply toothed, and mostly basal. Does anyone else have any ideas?
Despite the tough look of the overall plant, each blossom was delicate and eye-catching.
Right next to these behemoths, a fly drank nectar from a Dwarf Goldenrod. The fly loomed like a giant compared to the individual flowers of the goldenrod's raceme. It looks like pollen sticks to the fly's feet as he perches on a flower, and then the next flower scrapes off his foot dust. He looks almost too big to actually feed from these flowers.
I'll never tire of the sight that greeted me as I approached home. I stopped to gaze at the green aspen leaves, craggy mountains, and billowy clouds.
And, to my surprise, when I arrived home, it looked like the biggest flycatcher baby, who has undeniably dwarfed the others from the beginning, had fledged while the other three remained nest-bound. The parents are still fussing around the nest, and I haven't been able to see the potential fledgling in the trees. However, in past years, all the fledglings learned to fly almost simultaneously. If I'm correct that one forerunner has escaped the nest, it must be tough for the parents to balance keeping the newly-free youngster safe and well-fed while still protecting and feeding the ones in the nest. It looks like being a good parent is tough work!
And then there were three...
The rocks dropped of precipitously to the west so I kept K close. She panted like a locomotive in the strong sun. I think that her squinting eyes need doggles (doggie sunglasses)!
I soon started to cautiously wend my way down through the boulders and cliffs but couldn't remember the easy route that I'd found while climbing up. I slid under a young pine tree and K stayed stock-still at the top.
Next, I barely squeezed between two boulders. K stood at the top with a look telling me that she had no intention of following my route.
I pondered what to do. K can get scared to the point of complete shut-down when asked to negotiate tough obstacles. However, that's during agility training. For example, it took two years for K to decide to walk across a teeter-totter (even now, she's eternally so proud of herself that she'd play teeter-totter all day if I'd let her). For about a year of that time, she wouldn't even go within 15 yards of the teeter-totter.However, as I looked up at her this morning, I realized that she'd never been scared by natural terrain. She's always easily negotiated boulder fields and even single-log bridges high over creeks. In fact, in the woods, she always moves with a natural confidence peppered with a dose of suitable caution. So, I kept descending, thinking that she'd find the 'easy' route that I'd used to go up. She still didn't move.
Uh oh. Now, I started considering climbing back up to lead her down. First, I tried one more trick, disappearing behind a boulder despite my niggling fear that she'd leap off the cliff to get to me. R would leap but all my past experience said that K wouldn't. Sure enough, she trotted down to my side in about 5 seconds by the least technical and very gradual route we'd used on the way up. Whew. What a smart girl. I'm not sure why she posed so long on top of the cliff, unless she was angling for some statuesque photos.As we rolled toward home, K skidded to a stop to sniff a scratched out depression that annihilated my tire tracks that I'd left only 30 minutes earlier. Bobcats, lions, and coyotes all scratch dirt into small piles, leaving shallow holes, to mark their territories. These carnivores prefer to make these scratchings in prominent locations like the middle of a trail. I found a small piece of scat, probably from a bobcat, in the dirt pile. As I checked it out, K's nose dropped to the ground, and she purposefully trotted off into the forest. Her calm purposeful demeanor suggested that she was running late for an appointment with the bobcat. I called her back and had to laugh. We humans and dogs are so different in some ways. But, I love that K makes me notice animal signs that I'd otherwise whoosh past without a second glance.
In the interest of full honesty, K insisted that I confess that I cussed at her later in the ride. I was riding down a very technical trail that I can barely negotiate even when I tunnel every iota of my attention into seeking the easiest line of travel. K chose that moment to streak off like a predator after prey, pulling my eyes away from the trail and to her. I yelled for her to come and simultaneously lost control of my bike. Sometimes, the combination of keeping an eye on my dog and riding on trails exceeds my mental bandwidth. That's why K wears a bell but it's not foolproof. Fortunately, I managed to avoid a full fall but it scared me since my spine is still recovering from my last crash. As I felt the vibrations reverberate up my spine after landing hard on my feet, I cussed K, not loudly, but just barely audibly. Moments like that one test my zen abilities but, seconds later, I managed to find a happy tone and give her treats because she returned to me pronto when I called her.
After leaving K at home, I rode some more on my own as the clouds gathered, organized, and swelled over the mountains. I spotted a colony of new flowers invading an aspen grove where columbines ruled just last week. These plants are the antithesis of columbines. They're almost 2 feet tall, stout, and look indomitable. Despite their distinctive features, I haven't managed to identify them, except that they're probably in the Figwort family. The leaves are compound, deeply toothed, and mostly basal. Does anyone else have any ideas?
Despite the tough look of the overall plant, each blossom was delicate and eye-catching.
Right next to these behemoths, a fly drank nectar from a Dwarf Goldenrod. The fly loomed like a giant compared to the individual flowers of the goldenrod's raceme. It looks like pollen sticks to the fly's feet as he perches on a flower, and then the next flower scrapes off his foot dust. He looks almost too big to actually feed from these flowers.
I'll never tire of the sight that greeted me as I approached home. I stopped to gaze at the green aspen leaves, craggy mountains, and billowy clouds.
And, to my surprise, when I arrived home, it looked like the biggest flycatcher baby, who has undeniably dwarfed the others from the beginning, had fledged while the other three remained nest-bound. The parents are still fussing around the nest, and I haven't been able to see the potential fledgling in the trees. However, in past years, all the fledglings learned to fly almost simultaneously. If I'm correct that one forerunner has escaped the nest, it must be tough for the parents to balance keeping the newly-free youngster safe and well-fed while still protecting and feeding the ones in the nest. It looks like being a good parent is tough work!And then there were three...
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Brimming with summer energy
Our Cordilleran Flycatcher nestlings braved the night on their own last night. Mother flycatcher perched in a nearby tree. Every year, the mother flycatcher has left the chicks alone in the nest for the last night or two before they fledge. The nestlings have started morphing into miniature replicas of their parents, except for their pink beaks, unlike their alien appearance a few days ago.
Today, both parents flitted about under the deck, frequently chirping and fluttering up to the nest to feed the chicks. I'm surprised that the young haven't yet flown the coop. They barely fit in the nest.
This morning, finally, I felt almost normal for the first time since my crash last week. Up until today, I've had trouble dragging my ailing body out of bed each morning, due to a headache, back spasms, aching legs, and a white-hot streaking pain in my shin. Each day, I've felt better after riding but getting started has been a battle. But, today, nothing hurt very much when I opened my eyes. Never take that gift for granted.
K and I enthusiastically rolled into a sunny and gorgeous day.
We stopped in a meadow, where I noticed a surprising montage of Blanket Flowers, a bumblebee, and a grasshopper.
In the foreground, the fuzzy yellow and black striped bumblebee monopolized the fresher of the two flowers.
While the meek grasshopper sipped from the older, almost dessicated, blossom.
As we pedaled further from home, K seemed to sense my brimming energy and zoomed, zig-zagging from one side of the trail to the other. She seems fully recovered from leptospirosis, although she still has another 10 days of antibiotics ahead of her. Her brother, R, has now come down with the same symptoms as she had so he's starting the regime. Those were some costly slurps from a mud puddle that both dogs took.
As K and I energetically rolled along, she abruptly halted and sniffed a log with trepidation. Someone, I'm guessing a bear, overturned a log, exposing a swarming and swirling colony of angry ants. The log roiled with frantic activity, and the angry hexapods climbed up to my ankles while I tried to take a photo between swats at climbing ants. By this point, the sage K had retreated to 20 yards away from the unhappy colony.
I'm always happy to see evidence of our bears foraging like the wild ursines that I want them to be, rather than exploiting naive humans who leave food accessible. So, despite getting ants on my ankles, I was happy!
After K ate her breakfast, I headed out for more pedaling. I followed my favorite climbing route, one where the trail parallels a creek and climbs arrow-like through wildflower adorned meadows to a lookout point. I climbed hard, enjoying the feeling that my body didn't hurt. And, what a view from the deserted lookout!
Clouds had begun to organize into storm cells over the mountains as is their habit in the summertime but none had swelled into towering columns or turned black. That meant that I could enjoy a leisurely finish to my ride.
To get home, I rode along a slightly uphill route carved into the side of an almost vertical wooded slope. This trail, Wildcat Alley, is where I've seen many animals signs over the years, include scat and tracks of lions, bears, and pine martens. Although I remained alert, I didn't see any large animals today - but it's always exciting to imagine that they saw me ride by.
I passed a spring, still flowing freely below a cliff. Numerous flowers specialized for moist sunny spots flourished. A Monkshood (Aconitum columbianum) grew aside the spring, its purple blossom hanging at my shoulder height.
This view is from below the blossom, showing the view of a visiting insect, without the special effects of insect vision.
At a slight distance from the cold clear water, yellow flowers towered over my head.
I believe that they're Tall Coneflowers (Rudbeckia ampla).
And, best of all, wild raspberries shined like bright red beacons. I settled in to forage for these sweet and tiny treats. I kept watching for lions and bears, who might amble along and stumble over me in the depths of the tall growth. But, truth be told, if a lion decided to hunt me at that point, I'd have been in big trouble. Sometimes, I just have to relax, trust the animals to leave me alone, and enjoy summer's bounty.
Today, both parents flitted about under the deck, frequently chirping and fluttering up to the nest to feed the chicks. I'm surprised that the young haven't yet flown the coop. They barely fit in the nest.
This morning, finally, I felt almost normal for the first time since my crash last week. Up until today, I've had trouble dragging my ailing body out of bed each morning, due to a headache, back spasms, aching legs, and a white-hot streaking pain in my shin. Each day, I've felt better after riding but getting started has been a battle. But, today, nothing hurt very much when I opened my eyes. Never take that gift for granted.K and I enthusiastically rolled into a sunny and gorgeous day.
We stopped in a meadow, where I noticed a surprising montage of Blanket Flowers, a bumblebee, and a grasshopper.
In the foreground, the fuzzy yellow and black striped bumblebee monopolized the fresher of the two flowers.
While the meek grasshopper sipped from the older, almost dessicated, blossom.
As we pedaled further from home, K seemed to sense my brimming energy and zoomed, zig-zagging from one side of the trail to the other. She seems fully recovered from leptospirosis, although she still has another 10 days of antibiotics ahead of her. Her brother, R, has now come down with the same symptoms as she had so he's starting the regime. Those were some costly slurps from a mud puddle that both dogs took.As K and I energetically rolled along, she abruptly halted and sniffed a log with trepidation. Someone, I'm guessing a bear, overturned a log, exposing a swarming and swirling colony of angry ants. The log roiled with frantic activity, and the angry hexapods climbed up to my ankles while I tried to take a photo between swats at climbing ants. By this point, the sage K had retreated to 20 yards away from the unhappy colony.
I'm always happy to see evidence of our bears foraging like the wild ursines that I want them to be, rather than exploiting naive humans who leave food accessible. So, despite getting ants on my ankles, I was happy!After K ate her breakfast, I headed out for more pedaling. I followed my favorite climbing route, one where the trail parallels a creek and climbs arrow-like through wildflower adorned meadows to a lookout point. I climbed hard, enjoying the feeling that my body didn't hurt. And, what a view from the deserted lookout!
Clouds had begun to organize into storm cells over the mountains as is their habit in the summertime but none had swelled into towering columns or turned black. That meant that I could enjoy a leisurely finish to my ride.To get home, I rode along a slightly uphill route carved into the side of an almost vertical wooded slope. This trail, Wildcat Alley, is where I've seen many animals signs over the years, include scat and tracks of lions, bears, and pine martens. Although I remained alert, I didn't see any large animals today - but it's always exciting to imagine that they saw me ride by.
I passed a spring, still flowing freely below a cliff. Numerous flowers specialized for moist sunny spots flourished. A Monkshood (Aconitum columbianum) grew aside the spring, its purple blossom hanging at my shoulder height.
This view is from below the blossom, showing the view of a visiting insect, without the special effects of insect vision.
At a slight distance from the cold clear water, yellow flowers towered over my head.
I believe that they're Tall Coneflowers (Rudbeckia ampla).
And, best of all, wild raspberries shined like bright red beacons. I settled in to forage for these sweet and tiny treats. I kept watching for lions and bears, who might amble along and stumble over me in the depths of the tall growth. But, truth be told, if a lion decided to hunt me at that point, I'd have been in big trouble. Sometimes, I just have to relax, trust the animals to leave me alone, and enjoy summer's bounty.
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