What would be ugly in a garden constitutes beauty in a mountain.—Victor Hugo
White-tailed Ptarmigan, Medicine Bow Curve (11,640 ft.), Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. Note the leg band. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
During our recent visit to Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado, we spent two half-days exploring Trail Ridge Road. This road reaches an elevation of 12,183 ft. and so cuts through a series of habitats typically encountered at much higher latitudes. Near the top, the road cuts alpine tundra, an environment similar to that near the Arctic Circle.
Alpine Tundra, near Lava Cliffs (12,080 ft.), Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. Canon EOS 7D/Tokina 11-16mm f/2.8 @16mm. Hand-held. Natural light.
Admittedly, some of our early forays up to elevation were difficult. As flat-landers from sea-level a sudden visit to over 12,000 ft was a shock to our cardiovascular systems. A much longer visit (yea!) would cause red blood cell counts to increase, and allow us to hunt down and photograph the tougher species without feeling as though we were going to stroke out at any moment!
Clark’s Nutcracker, Rainbow Curve (10,829 ft.), Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. Clark’s Nutcracker typically lives at altitudes ranging from 3,000-12,900 ft. and feeds on the seeds of high altitude white pine trees—or in this case (unfortunately), handouts from humans. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
One of the thrills of traveling to bird is encountering species you know and love from another part of the country during a different time of the year wearing differently colored plumage. On this trip we found, of all things, American Pipits, birds we often find dining on crane flies in grassy areas on the Gulf Coast during late winter and early spring. During the breeding season, these birds have more of a grayish cast on the back and less intense streaking on the belly. The bird below has a splash of bright orange on the throat and upper breast, something I’ve not seen in American Pipits during the winter in Texas.
This visit to high altitude whetted our appetites for cold weather birding, and we are drawing up plans for a birding trip to the high latitude tundra—we’ve got our eyes on the Canadian Arctic near Hudson Bay!
American Pipit in Breeding Colors, Rocky Mountain National Park at approximately 11,800 ft., Colorado. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
And while I stood there I saw more than I can tell and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of all things in the spirit, and the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being.–Black Elk
Female Williamson’s Sapsucker at Nest Cavity in Aspen Tree, Upper Beaver Meadows, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
This is the first of a series of posts about Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado, and the first Two Shutterbirds post ever prepared completely in the field–writing, editing, researching, and photo-processing. Usually when we take an extended birding trip we prepare and schedule posts ahead of time. The Houston flood several weeks ago left us so nonplussed that we were unable to “act naturally,” so to speak. In any case, here goes . . . .
If you are religious and want to see what the world was like before the Fall, come to Upper Beaver Meadows. If you are of a more scientific mindset and want to see what North America looked like when the first Paleo-Indians crossed Beringia, come to Upper Beaver Meadows. This place is a paradise in late spring and summer–the air is filled with the songs of Pine Siskins, Warbling Vireos, and House Wrens . . . .
Elisa’s Field Notes:
What a welcome change of scenery! There is nothing like an open wilderness trail stretching out before you in the morning light (especially in contrast to the post-flood flotsam- and jetsam-strewn streets at home). The only sign of human activity was this little footpath and within a few steps, I was transported. The anticipation of discovery co-mingled with the effects of high altitude had me dizzy but determined. Our first exploration was sans-camera as we were still adjusting to the altitude—we traveled from near sea level to around 8,300 feet in less than 24 hours. But, by day 2, we were on the job.
Adventure Beckons, Upper Beaver Meadows, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. Canon EOS 7D/Tokina 11-16mm f/2.8. Natural light.
West of the trail is a creek surrounded by moist bottomlands and associated aspen groves which give way to mixed conifer woodlands upland to the east. Further along the trail, rocky granitic outcrops dot the slopes that slowly rise as you enter the valley. We followed the trail through the valley about a half of a mile to a small aspen grove with a horse-hitch landmark.
In this one-half mile alone, we encountered a soul-soothing diversity of wildlife. Young ground squirrel pups scurried underfoot as American Tree Swallows swooped and dived for flying insects above. A Yellow-bellied Marmot looked on dispassionately as we delighted in watching a House Wren bring insects to its cavity nest. A Wild Turkey tom strutted and called to his seemingly disinterested hen and then gobbled at us as we passed by. A fledgling Lincoln’s Sparrow begged atop a fallen tree while a mated pair of Williamson’s Sapsuckers traded nestling duties overhead inside an aspen trunk. The most charming encounter perhaps was with a decidedly curious and rambunctious Long-tailed Weasel which kept poking his head up through the brush to have a look at us.
Mornin’ Jim. A Yellow-bellied Marmot scrutinizes early morning birders along the Upper Beaver Meadows Trail, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
It’s more than a little ironic that we chose to leave the productivity imperative of our workaday life behind only to immerse ourselves in the peak productivity of nature’s biological imperative. That imperative is never more evident than now, as we approach the summer solstice. Nature runs on sunlight and on vacation, we run on nature. We wouldn’t have it any other way!
Crane flies for breakfast again!? A House Wren with a mouthful of crane flies most likely destined for nestlings. Upper Beaver Meadows Trail, Rocky Mountain National Park, CO. Canon EOS 7D/500mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
Chris’s Field Notes:
As our basic reference we are using the excellent Birding Rocky Mountain National Park by Scott Roederer. Based on the book, we chose Upper Beaver Meadows as our first port of call.
Botanically, the wet valley floor is dominated by willows, aspen, and grasses. Upslope from this are grassy meadows sprinkled with wildflowers (Golden Banner being most prominent with Indian Paintbrush and Larkspur providing splashes of additional color) transition upward into conifer-dominated forests.
Although the range of temperatures was pleasant, the weather was challenging for photography, with nearly constantly changing illumination most days. Clouds and rain came and went throughout most days, also. According to locals, this has been an exceptionally cold and wet spring. For future reference, this June was probably more like a typical May.
Pygmy Nuthatches, Upper Beaver Meadows, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. These birds were near their nest cavity. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
In late spring and summer, Upper Beaver Meadows is cavity nesting central, mostly in Aspen and Ponderosa Pines. I saw House Wrens, Pygmy Nuthatches, Williamson’s and Red-naped Sapsuckers, Mountain Bluebirds, Violet-green and American Tree Swallows, and Northern Flickers (Red-shafted) in cavity nests in riparian habitats along Beaver Brook in the valley floor. I also saw Western Wood-pewees, White-breasted Nuthatches, and Hairy Woodpeckers here, but not in cavities.
All in all, a fantastic trip, and it will take months to sort through all the images. Frankly, Upper Beaver Meadows constitutes, in my mind, one of the best birding spots I’ve ever visited. Likely this area will be a place we visit over and over again–like Cave Creek and Santa Ana.
Larkspur (Delphinium sp.). Upper Beaver Meadows, Rocky Mountains National Park, Colorado. Canon EOS 7D/100mm f/2.8L IS. High-speed synchronized ring-flash.
These are the good old days. In a situation that’s constantly deteriorating, it’s always the good old days.—Chris Cunningham (paraphrase of J. Phillips)
Young Scaled Quail Pair, Franklin Mountains State Park, West Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
As I look out my front window at the giant piles of uncollected debris from the recent flood in southwest Houston, I got to thinking about quails . . . .
Many wildlife biologists are concerned about populations of all six types of North American quails. Numbers of individuals of dry-adapted species of quails such as Montezuma, Gambel’s and Scaled, rise and fall with drought and rainy years as expected, but these concerns transcend impacts due to changes in the weather.
For example, in the Southwest biologists have been noticing incursions of scrub-inhabiting quails into the suburban landscape, presumably foraging for food. The sprawl of tract housing and all that accompanies it means that the “empty” expanses of desert and scrublands are dwindling and our lovely xeric creatures are under pressure.
So, what’s the connection between giant piles of uncollected garbage and quails? Well, it seems to me that humanity can have any world it wants. Man has elected to live in a world of materialistic clutter, jammed with ephemeral consumer trash soon to be in a landfill. For this we are giving away (say exterminating) nature and paving over the land.
To alter this course will require nothing less than a new great awakening . . . .
Female Gambel’s Quail, Franklin Mountains State Park, West Texas. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
The stratosphere is a hostile place.–Felix Baumgartner
Great Horned Owl with Possible Maggot Infestation, 40-Acre Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Photo taken on March 12, 2015. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
As we continue to dig out from the flood nightmare . . . .
In March, I mentioned to a birder/naturalist friend (RD) that one of the nesting Great Horned Owls on the west side of 40-Acre Lake showed some signs of facial injuries or infestation by ectoparasites. He asked for more information. I have been slow honoring this request . . . but here goes.
Bird nests, especially those of raptors, are not hygienic places. The adult birds drag dead or moribund prey to the nest where it is torn apart and distributed to nestlings. Spilled blood and gore, as well as the birds themselves, are attractive to parasitic insects. Black flies (which incidentally carry avian malaria), for example, are known to be especially vexing to Great Horned Owls.
In the above image, the owl appears to have several small injuries around the eyes. What follows is pure speculation, but perhaps the owl got nicked up in a battle with prey. The wounds would naturally be attractive to egg-laying flies, which feed on necrotic as well as living tissues. The whitish objects on the left eyelid appear to be maggots.
What is interesting is that by the very next day (below) the region around the eyes is very much better (sidebar: this is clearly the same bird. Note the stray white fleck above the right eye in both images). The eyelids still appear injured and crusty, but no blood or maggots are visible. Perhaps this bird was able to clean itself up, or perhaps it got help in grooming from its mate. In any case, this bird appears to have had a brush with fate, and I for one am delighted at the outcome.
Great Horned Owl with Owlet, 40-Acre Lake, Brazos Bend State Park, Texas. Photo taken on March 13, 2015. Canon EOS 7D/600mm f/4L IS (+1.4x TC). Natural light.
