SPECIAL OFFER
12% OFF
Bountea Better Bloom B3
Special Offer
All New Packaging
We have bright new packaging for all our products. The recyclable boxes feature John Evans with his range of large healthy vegetables all grown with the Bountea Growing System. Ask for them at your local hydroponic or gardening store.
More Birds and Bears
Each morning I usually awake to the sounds of the “Kak, Kak, Kak” of the Steller’’s Jays and the “Coo, Coo, Cooo – Coo” of the Mourning Doves. The jays have always been here, cocky and brilliant blue with those funny black mohawks on their heads. They particularly like to steal the sunflower seeds and elderberries in the Fall — you see them hanging upside down on the flowers and branches with their mohawks wobbling as they eat.
The doves are a recent arrival this year. They hang out on the dusty dirt road during the day and clatter away as we drive up. Their call is sadder, but reminiscent of the Wood Pigeons I used to hear as a child waking in my Grandmother’’s house, Ffrwdgrech, in Wales. It evokes in me a timeless sense of the comfort and peace of childhood — lying in bed on a summer morning with no reason to get up and the day expanding in front of me with no demands or schedules. Wish that it could still be so!
The summer sun is hotter now, so our doors are usually wide open (unless we get one of our sudden 50 mph gusts of wind). We have had a number of bird visitors in the house. The inevitable hummingbird came to feed on a piece of bright red cloth in the sun-room and needed persuading to leave. A female Western Tanager with bright eye and neat olive coloring made a flying visit in one door and out the other. Her mate, the male Tanager, is often around near the pond with his startlingly bright yellow body and rosy head.
The Dusky Flycatcher came last and stayed longest. It exhausted itself flying against the skylights until I caught it in a butterfly net. Then it sat panting in Marisha’’s hand as it recovered. Eventually, it sat up and perched on her finger, gripping tight with its sharp claws — she made a face but held still. We had time to examine the whiskers around it’’s beak and admire the eye ring and pale breast before it flew off.
Last weekend, I went to visit Violet who was hosting a Boulder Gardener’’s meeting at her magnificent mountain garden in Cold Creek Canyon. The air was thick with humming birds and Tree Swallows, swooping after insects and resting on the wires. She has a number of nesting boxes so I could see little swallow heads peeking out as they sat on their eggs. Also on the wires and flashing brilliant azure blue were a number of Mountain Bluebirds. They are often hard to spot as their plumage is drab gray but in the sun they sparkle.
Eating breakfast this morning in our Secret Garden, Orianne pointed out a young cinnamon bear ambling up the mountainside, probably one of the pair that raided our compost. It looked rather thin and lonely to me, and I wondered what had happened to its sibling. Probably, as the pickings get thinner during the summer, the bears have to make it on their own.
Do bears experience adolescent trauma as they are wrenched from their family by the imperative to get food? How do they find all those thousands of calories each day to feed that big body? It cannot be an easy life, alone and often hungry, but at least they are free of our demanding human schedules
Snakes
I just saw my first snake of the season, a Garter Snake. In the summer we have quite a bunch of snakes in the garden; I consider it a sign that the whole garden ecosystem is flourishing.
When we first arrived 15 yeas ago, there was very little wild life and certainly no snakes. Gradually, using the Bountea System, the soil and garden ecology has expanded with all the niches getting filled with specific predators and prey.
First come the bacteria and fungi as the foundation of the Soil Food Web. Then the other microbial life forms such as protozoa and nematodes. I started to see an increase of arthropods and predatory insects about 3/4 years ago. The earthworm population exploded, with giants in the soil and lots of red wrigglers in the compost pile. As a result, the robins arrived in force to eat worms, just as the snakes came to feast on insects.
We do not have Rattlers this high up, but Western Gray Garter Snakes are becoming quite numerous. For awhile, I thought we had a water snake because I would see a 18" long sinuous body gliding through the water, staying submerged for long periods. Marisha came running once to say that one of the pond goldfish was stuck. It was out of the water wedged between two rocks. I tried to pull it our and found there was a snake firmly attached to its head pulling against me. We had a tug of war for a few seconds; I won but the goldfish didn”t. This fat garter snake still lives under the pond rocks.
More recently some big Bull Snakes have taken up residence. According to the nature books, these are actually Gopher Snakes — but this does not seem a fitting name for such magnificent animals (though I like the idea of them eating our Pocket Gophers). Up close, they are about 5 to 6 feet long with bright checkered markings on their back – black, yellow and tan. The head is small while the body is thicker and powerfully muscled under skin that is silky smooth. In contrast to their reputation, Bull Snakes are peaceable and quiet in their nature.
A couple of summers ago, I had an intimate encounter with a pair of Bull Snakes. My daughter, Marisha was playing outside with a friend. I heard a high pitched scream and came running to find them both transfixed, looking at a mass of writhing, sinuous bodies. Two snakes had got totally enmeshed and entangled in the black plastic netting I used to protect my lilac bush from deer attack. The strong thin mesh is exactly the right size to allow the head of the snake through and then trap the larger body, tightening and cutting into the scaly skin.
I fetched a scissors and, somewhat hesitantly, I started to carefully cut the multiple strands of netting from around each snake. It was quite a long job taking about fifteen minutes as I manipulated the long heavy bodies. Holding an animal, you can feel its nature — the way it responds to human presence. These snakes were patient and calm, never trying to attack or make my job difficult — and they were certainly not comatose or passive. They emanated a kind of quiet natural intelligence that knew we were trying to help and not harm.
The girls stood watching and helping, fascinated by the grace and beauty of these animals. When the first was free, I let them handle it for a few moments and then it slithered off into the grass and down a hole. The other followed soon after.
All three of us were giddy with excitement and elation. It is such an honor to hold and help such beings — without our intervention they would have died a horrible death. At such moments, we can be proud to be humans with the needed skillful hands and brain, able to solve an animal’’s life and death problem.
Soon after, I got rid of all the black plastic netting I could find around the garden; unfortunately, I missed a piece. Last summer, I found one of the Bull Snakes cut to pieces by its sharp strands. Human ingenuity is a two edged sword — healing and harming.
A Bunch of Bears
Last night I made one of the cardinal sins of mountain dwellers: I left my kitchen compost stuff outside on the deck. About 4.30 am, I heard this loud munching sound and went on down to look.
I assumed it would be our usual black bear — an old guy, taller than me when he stands up, with a gray grizzled muzzle. He and I have come face to face many times and we have a mutual respect. I like having him around though he is a total pain in the butt most times. He turns over the compost pile regularly; he opens the doors to the Subaru to find candy wrappers; he ripped out the cardoor window a couple of times and left claw marks on the dashboard; he even learned to unscrew the lid to a big compost container I had. Smart and powerful, he is a force unto himself.
The dilemma: bears are wonderful to look at close up and I always just want to stand and watch them go about their business. But that is not the way it has to be. When he gets up close I shout at him and chase him away, while throwing rocks. It is for his own good. If he once gets too familiar and enters the house, the wildlife people will kill him. There is no territory left in the Front Range of Colorado, to transport bears away from trouble.
Anyway, it was not the old guy this time. Outside the sliding glass door a few feet away from me were two full grown but young, brown colored bears, probably siblings. They must have been born last year. Busy chewing on the scraps, they did not see me — but as soon as I turned on the lights they sped away, in great four-legged bounds. Unlike the black bear, they were not used to humans. Still, I has a few moments in the dark admiring their powerful, furry bodies and total concentration. It is always an honor to be in the presence of such strong untamed intelligence.
Foxes and Rodents
‘Driving home late at night the car headlights picked out a mother fox and three kits (cubs) at the side of the road. I stopped and backed up so the kits stayed in the light. One crouched down and disappeared. The other two gray/tan furry bundles stood there staring at the lights. The mother, looking distainful, walked off up the road leaving the kits alone. Like their name, fox kits look half kitten and half puppy — totally cute.
I wondered why the mother kept walking. Was she trying to lead me away or was she just fed up after a long day with the kids? When I drove up the road, there she was, striding on ahead about a quarter mile away. Orianne came a little later and saw them reunited, so the kits must have caught up with her.
Next day, I found the honeysuckle I had grown from a cutting and planted out, was eaten off down to the ground. Like one of those silent movies, I actually did a double-take when I went into the garden and noticed the whole plant was missing. I knew it was a victim of one of the many chipmunks or ground squirrels we have romping around our deck. So I set out a Havahart live trap baited with peanut butter.
Nothing happened for a couple of days until one night I was wakened by a loud jangling noise. The trap is three feet long with 1 inch square mesh — quite heavy; it should not make that much noise with a small animal inside. When I went out onto the deck, the trap had been move ten feet and a light brown rodent was dead inside, its head stuck through the mesh and half eaten off.
I put the trap in a shed for the night and next morning examined its contents. It was definitely not a chipmunk. The long furry tail and large mouse-like body showed it to be a Bushy-Tailed Woodrat — a pretty looking animal with large ears and soft fur, quite unlike the normal rat.
This is what seems to have happened: the rodent tried to escape through the mesh; the fox caught its head; the fox then dragged the trap around as it tried to pull the woodrat out. My attempts to catch the plant thief had misfired and claimed an innocent victim. I put the body of the woodrat out on the mountainside so the fox could come later to collect its meal.
A couple days passed and I put the trap out again in a different place. I caught the thief — a Golden-Mantled Ground Squirrel. He looks like a larger version of a chipmunk but with a relatively shorter tail and no stripes on the face. I transported him safely down the mountain and set him free.
Holding a Red Crossbill
‘Walking out onto our deck I almost stepped on a crouching bird about 6 inches long with light brown back, leaf green cap and yellow green underbelly. I carefully picked it up to see what was wrong with it and got a surprise when I looked at the beak closely. It was long, sharp with the bottom overlapping the top and twisted to one side. I knew then it was a crossbill.
I called my daughter, Marisha (age 11) and she gently took it into her cupped hands with a look of pure delight. Then she asked with doubt in her voice, “Do you think it might have bird flu?” A good question, but I was pretty sure it had flown into one of the big windows of our sun-room and was simply stunned. She sat outside in the morning sun holding the bird as it slowly regained strength.
When my wife came out Marisha said, “I have always wanted to hold a wild bird. This is the best day of my life!” I remembered when Marisha was 6 and decided that she wanted to be like Saint Francis and have all the animals come to her. She stood waiting in the woods for almost an hour before she returned to the house tearful with disappointment. Now she had a small taste of her wish. So many children never have the opportunity to be in such intimate contact with nature, to feel the beating heart of a wild animal.
We placed the bird on a seat and went inside to watch. Together we looked through the bird books, confused by the bright green coloring until we realized she was a female red crossbill, with coloring totally unlike the rosy male. A flock of crossbills started alighting on the trees near the pond, including some fine red males.
We had to leave for school but my wife said that a little later, the female crossbill gathered herself together and flew off into the forest.
Turkey, Kinglet, Falcon
Orianne and Marisha, my wife and daughter, saw a couple of wild turkeys on the way home last week. I heard one in the distance when I was in the garden and went looking for it down the mountainside. It was suddenly quiet and I came across a fox, standing still, watching my approach; it was obviously on the same hunt.
A week later I had a spate of bird sightings. We have many feathered visitors to our pond; it is the only open water for miles around. Usually these are chickadees, nuthatches, siskins, junkos, robins and the occasional goldfinch. This last weekend we were sitting on the deck when a tiny wren-like ball of fluff appeared on the willow above the pond. It had the most gorgeous bright red mohawk on the top of its head – a Ruby-Crowned Kinglet.
Not long after, streaking through the forest about three feet from the ground, came a falcon, probably a Peregrin. It swerved between the tree trunks like a slalom skier. The next day at the pond was a squabbling flock of pine grosbeak, dabbing their big beaks into the water.
Finally today, I say the turkey. I ran for a camera and followed it as it strutted regally through the trees shaking its red wattle. It was slow, but determined to keep at least 25 yards between us, so I did not get a good picture. I was most impressed by its long neck and glossy black back trimmed with light brown tail feathers.
I have my reservations about cameras; they intrude themselves between the world and my experience. Then again, I love to share those experiences with my family, and a picture speaks eloquently.’),
Cayote and Fox
Spring 2008
‘Sitting at my computer, I look out the window into the pine forest. Up the slope, I planted beds of daffodils so I can glance up and see their brigh yellow flowers in the Spring. Today, as I was working, a very healthy cayote wandering past the window. I got up and followed it from window to window as it walked around the whole house. Finally, its curiosity satisfied, it ran off down the road.
It did not see me but I was often within a few feet. I could clearly see the bright intelligence and curiosity in its eyes as it checked out everything. The contrast of sandy gray and light yellow tinge of its coat was beautiful. I totally admire the independence and aliveness of wild animals. They are so very different from our domesticated pets.
Ten minutes later, again at my computer, a rather ragged vixen fox decided to stop outside the window to clean herself. She sat down with black-stockinged legs splayed and nibbled at her belly. The contrast with the cayote was startling. The fox had obviously had a very hard winter. Her coat was drab and patchy, her eyes were dim, and her tail did not even have the red foxy color and white tip.
She got up after a minute and continued on her way with a dainty stepping motion of her slender black legs. Even in her ragged state she still walked as if her feet disliked the touch of dirt. Foxes strut like aristocrats; cayotes lope like commoners
Humming Birds and Northern Goshawk
Spring 2008
The first day of Spring! A week ago the Broad-tailed hummingbird arrived from his long journey North. I heard his whistling flight on the front porch where he was checking out the empty feeder. I filled it fast and watched as he settled in for a drink. His scarlet red bib twinkled in the sun as he bobbed his head up and down — and then he was off faster than the eye can follow to start work on his nest.
Up at this altitude (7,400) we measure spring by the arrival of the first hummingbird. Now we know there may be a few more frosts and a couple of wet snows but they won”t usually last long. In past years we had up to a dozen hummingbirds at the feeder and the air would be filled with their courtship flights – males rising high in the air and then a piercing whistling as they dived back down to earth, missing our heads my inches. The last couple of years we have only had about six to eight after the babies have grown.
We see two species of hummingbird: the Broad-tailed and the Rufous. That little red terrorist won”t arrive until August but when he does all hell breaks loose. Until then, it is pretty sedate at the feeder.
This weekend, working out on the deck in glorious Colorado weather (75F with deep blue sky), a hawk glided close overhead. It’’s underwings were a very light gray and its wings blunt and powerful. We have sometimes confused the ravens gliding and tumbling down in the valley with birds of prey but this was more serene and majestic – a Northern Goshawk.
There is something special about birds of prey. More than most birds, they cause a flurry of excitement, a wish to see more and get closer. Maybe it is those movies of medieval falcons on the wrists of lords or a primitive deep memory of being prey to flying preditors. The scene in the Lord of the Rings when the Hobbits are save by giant eagles stirs the blood. When I see a hawk or falcon, I know the natural world is still somewhat in balance.