Wild Naturalists

January 13, 2011: Surf scoters diving today in the Salish Sea near Port Townsend sometimes come to the surface holding fragments of algae or eelgrass, likely picked up as the scoters feed on organisms (mollusks, crustaceans, worms, etc.) attached to or associated with bottom vegetation. See also January 12 & 19 in A Naturalist’s Year in the Pacific Northwest.

January 11, 2008: After swallowing a gunnel at the Salish Sea surface near a pier in Port Townsend, a male red-breasted merganser dives again and comes up with another gunnel, which it promptly swallows. See also January 19 in A Naturalist’s Year in the Pacific Northwest.

January 10, 2011:  A double-crested cormorant gives us a good angle on its method for taking flight from the water (a rapid series of forceful two-footed hops coordinated with powerful wingbeats). See also February 6 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.

January 9, 2022: A female red crossill perches in a Douglas-fir before descending to the ground to ingest grit in the Methow Valley, on the east side of the Cascade crest in Washington (see January 17 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). The poorly chosen English name for this finch refers to the coloration of the adult male. Note that males are red in several other crossbill species. An additional complication is that the "red crossbill" of field guides likely comprises multiple species with differing vocalizations,  bill structure, and food habits.

January 8, 2011: Another look at the diving behavior of a double-crested cormorant (see also January 2, 2011, below). This bird consistently showed its big webbed feet above the water at the beginning of each dive.

January 8, 2009: Gleaming (and smiling?!) in late afternoon sunshine, a male bufflehead gives us a nice look at his plumage iridescence. Most of the time we see a boldly patterned black and white head. The colorful tones come from microscopic feather structure and melanin (no green or purple pigments are present). See also January 26 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.

January 6, 2016: A female greater scaup rests at the edge of the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend, where more often we see lesser scaup (see January 3 and February 2 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). Greater scaups nest widely across northern North America and Eurasia. In North America, the largest breeding populations are in Alaska and far northwestern Canada. Based on migration patterns, the individual in the photo almost certainly originated in Alaska. Some western North American breeders winter in the Pacific states, but far greater numbers migrate across the continent to wintering areas on the Atlantic coast of the northeastern United States.

January 5, 2014: Conditions last night were ideal for development of "hair ice" on soggy dead wood along the Elwha River. Although sometimes referred to as "frost flowers," the filamentous ice is not actually frost, as the water from which the ice forms comes from the wood, not the air. A wood-associated fungus appears to be involved in the formation of the fine ice filaments. See also January 8 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.

January 1, 2012: A harbor seal hauled out on a rocky islet near Mats Mats (eastern Olympic Peninsula) gives me a view of its belly region, allowing confirmation that this is a female. Two teats are evident, though they are somewhat obscured by the spotting pattern. The female genital opening is near the anal region. In males, the genital opening is closer to the umbilicus. Female true seals (except monk seals) have two teats, whereas female seal lions and fur seals have four teats. Despite the variation in the number of teats, all pinnipeds normally produce only one offspring per pregnancy, though multiple births rarely occur.

December 30, 2011, 11:15 pm, 39°F, clear, windy: Although it's not very cold tonight, three Pacific wrens, with their tails pointing outward, huddle tightly on the ledge under our cabin eaves. This heat-conservation behavior substantially reduces the energy needed to stay warm through the long winter night (about 15 hours). I wonder how they determine who gets the presumably choice spot in the middle?!

 December 30, 2010: Bonaparte's gulls are on the hunt for a late afternoon meal on the Salish Sea near Port Townsend.  A quick dive often yields a small fish caught at or just below the water surface (sometimes the gull submerges completely). The English name of this tiny tern-like gull honors Charles Lucien Jules Laurent Bonaparte (1803-1857), nephew of the French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte. Born in France and raised in Italy, Charles made major contributions to American ornithology during and after his brief residency in the northeastern United  States in the 1820s (he returned to Europe in 1826). A former scientific name for Bonaparte's gull is Larus bonapartii.

December 29, 2015: A northern kelp crab serves as an afternoon snack for a hungry glaucous-winged gull. The gull captured the crab in shallow water at the edge of the Salish Sea. After a short flight inland, the gull dropped the crab onto hard ground from a height of 15 feet. Then the gull landed and proceeded to break off the crab's legs and peck into its underside.

December 29, 2011: Among the thick masses of kelp on a Salish Sea shore is a detached suckered arm of a giant Pacific octopus. Nearby, a glaucous-winged/western gull hybrid  feeds on other parts of the large carcass. The arms of this dead octopus are about 4-5 feet long, quite a bit shorter than the maximum (rarely up to 10 feet or more). Despite the large size of the giant Pacific octopus (it's the world's largest octopus species), individuals in the wild generally live only 3-5 years.

December 27, 2016: Today, American robins in Port Townsend satisfy their appetites' with the fruits on non-native European (English) holly. Through fruit consumption, robins and other common birds disperse vast numbers of European holly seeds and play a major role in the spread of this invasive plant (as well as many others). Ironically, in October 2024, the journal Science featured an article about how an “alarming” decline in seed-dispersing animals in Europe may pose a threat to native plants there.

December 26, 2008: Top and middle: After bushwhacking through lowland forest undergrowth, I discover an inchworm (spanworm; geometrid moth caterpillar) on my shirt. Imagine how cryptic it would be in its natural habitat, attached to a slender twig . With recent snow and cold, I'm surprised that it was out today on above-ground vegetation. Bottom: Despite chilly temperatures, adult geometrids (of presumably a different species) have been in flight at night lately (see also December 14 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).

December 25, 2015: A flock of dunlins, including a few black-bellied plovers, fills the sky as we kayak near Marrowstone Island (northeast side of the Olympic Peninsula). The rising tide displaced the shorebirds from their roost, but they soon land in a tight group on another cobbly shore that is still above water.

December 25, 2013: Near our camp in the upper Dosewallips River drainage in the eastern Olympic Mountains, bobcat tracks pass along ridgetop thickets. The bobcat likely is hunting for snowshoe hare, the tracks of which are represented nearby. In this bobcat track, the hind foot stepped directly on top of the front track as the cat walked beside shrubby conifers that may have secluded a cautious hare.

December 25, 2011: In the low light of a cloudy winter day on Port Ludlow Bay (eastern Olympic Peninsula), buffleheads  show a bold pattern of black and white (rendered here in a monochrome painting). In sunlight, the black plumage shines with iridescent green and purple (see January 26 and February 21 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). These chunky little diving ducks are fast fliers, known to reach speeds of nearly 50 miles per hour.

Buffleheads are common in Salish Sea coves and shallows and in many Pacific Northwest ponds, lakes, and slow rivers from October through April or May. Single-day Christmas Bird Counts in the Port Townsend area generally find several hundred buffleheads in a 15-mile-diameter circle centered approximately midway between Chimacum Creek (mouth) and Indian Island. Buffleheads nest in the Pacific Northwest in small numbers.

December 24, 2010: Along the Olympic Discovery Trail near Port Townsend, Cascade barberry foliage does a good job of adopting the iconic color scheme for this time of year. In summer, the compound leaves shown here were all green. See January18 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.

Upper: December 24, 2012: A classic December scene in Pacific Northwest lowlands —an American robin takes advantage of fruitful non-native plants.  See also December 19, 2016 (below) and December 22 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest. Lower: December 24, 2008: Snow has melted off lowlands near the Salish Sea, and robins now turn their attention to worms and other foods available from mossy lawns. Robins can detect hidden earthworms by sound alone.

December 22, 2024: In the lowland forest mentioned above, I'm pleased to find western rattlesnake-plantain, a native evergreen orchid.  The forest here has some large, old trees. I haven't noticed this orchid in nearby younger forests that were clear-cut about 50 years ago.

The "rattlesnake" part of the name alludes to the reticulation formed by the whitish markings on the leaves; these markings sometimes vaguely the pattern formed by the scales of a snake's skin (not so much on the leaves shown here). Also, the fruiting stalk supposedly looks like a rattlesnake's rattle. But, to me, whoever coined the name seems not to have been well acquainted with rattlesnakes or any other kind of snake! 

In the Pacific states, western rattlesnake-plantain can be found in shady coniferous forests at low to moderate elevations from southeast Alaska to the southern Sierra Nevada in California. Additional populations extend to Mexico and eastward to Nova Scotia. See also August 24 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest,

December 20, 2015: On rip-rap along a Salish Sea coast, an immature gull (western/glaucous-winged hybrid, hatched this year) begs relentlessly with quavering, high-pitched calls as its (presumed) parent stands impassively nearby. At this time of year, adults still sometimes regurgitate food for their young (see December 18 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest), and maybe this adult emptied its gullet for the begging juvenile before I arrived on the scene. In any case, the young gull is still hungry, and the adult seems to have nothing to offer right now.

December 17, 2010: An adult double-crested cormorant heads to a set of old pilings that serve as a roost along the Salish Sea coast at Port Townsend. As usual, we wish we knew where this bird hatched and where it has nested. Most breeding colonies in the Pacific Northwest are on islands along the outer coast, but there several in the Salish Sea in and around the San Juan Islands, and relatively few elsewhere. In recent decades, the largest nesting population (globally) has been on islands on the lower Columbia River (mainly East Sand Island, Oregon, near the Columbia River mouth), where double-crested cormorants have been slaughtered and their nests destroyed in ecologically questionable (and sometimes counterproductive) efforts to aid salmon populations, whose primary conservation problems involve dams, not native predators. The East Sand Island debacle, which also involves Caspian terns, is a story too long to recount here. One positive outcome of the focus on the East Sand Island cormorants is that we have learned that double-crested cormorants that nest on and fledge from the island end up in post-breeding roost sites located northward to southwestern British Columbia and southward to the Colorado River Delta in northern Baja California, including substantial numbers in and around the Salish Sea. So maybe the cormorant in the photo hatched on East Sand Island and perhaps has nested there, too.

December 16, 2015: An adult male belted kingfisher uses a boat rail as a convenient place to watch for fish prey in the marina at Point Hudson (Port Townsend). Females and immatures have patches of prominent rufous coloration on the underside. Kingfishers commonly forage from water-edge vegetation or while hovering, and they also hunt from docks, pilings, piers, and boats. Of the three front toes on each foot, the outer two are fused together for most of their length—a characteristic feature of kingfishers.

I wonder, is this the male of the pair that nested in a nearby bluff this past summer, or did he migrate here from as far away as Alaska or some other distant breeding area? Will he remain through winter? Maybe so, as one or two kingfishers sometimes can be found here during the colder months. Digital painting from original photo.

December 16, 2008: Upper: Snowfall in lowlands around the northeastern Olympic Peninsula leaves a nice surface for finding animal tracks, including this set from an eastern cottontail. This is a typical arrangement for a rabbit hopping casually from right to left, with the hind feet registering side-by-side at left and the front pair with one foot usually in front of the other. Sometimes the front foot tracks are side-by-side or overlap. The front foot has five toes, but the inner one is so small that it rarely registers. Regardless, due to the hair-covered soles of the feet, individual toes often do not show clearly in rabbit tracks. 

Lower: For reference, here's an eastern cottontail photographed at the same site in autumn 2007. This non-native cottontail is active throughout the year in thickets, along forest edges, and around gardens and lawns with nearby cover in many lowland areas around the Salish Sea. See also October 8, 2008, below. Native cottontail species inhabit areas east of the Cascades and in the southern portion of the Pacific Northwest. 

December 15, 2010 (upper): A small flock of varied thrushes forages on a lowland forest floor near Port Townsend. The thrushes toss aside red alder leaves and yank out tufts of moss to expose tiny worms, which they promptly nab and swallow. See also January 30 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest. A few minutes after the thrushes departed, a Pacific wren and a fox sparrow arrived and investigated the stirred-up ground where the thrushes had been foraging. Each ate small items that I could not see well enough to identify.

December 15, 2024 (lower): Eight varied thrushes are tossing leaves in exactly the same spot as on this date in 2010! The thrush in today's photo is a male; the 2010 thrush is a female.

Varied thrushes do not occupy this location during the nesting season, so did these flocks migrate here from the Olympic Mountains? The Cascades? Or perhaps as far north as Alaska? 

In the dim light of early morning (2010) and early evening (2024), my photos are too grainy to share, so for clarity I convey them as digital paintings.

December 13, 2008, 4:15 pm, 44°F: At dusk, Pacific wrens begin to arrive at their much-used night roost on a ledge under our cabin eaves. By 4:25 pm, four wrens have arrived. Earlier today, I noticed bird droppings inside the open front doorway of our new house currently under construction near the cabin, and I guessed that wrens had begun to use the building as a roost. Sure enough, when I check at 6:15 pm, two wrens are on a beam next to the droppings (upper photo).  It's not a cold evening, and the wrens are not huddled together (compare December 12 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). We're happy they approve of our future home, but we may have to encourage them to find suitable roost sites on sheltered beams outside! Update, December 18, 2024: Two wrens have continue to roost in the same spot every night, sometimes side-by-side, sometimes somewhat apart (lower photo)

December 12, 2010: Not all gulls today are after fish (see above). This one paddles to shore with a sunflower star, which it subsequently tore apart and ate. This was back in the good old days when sunflower stars were numerous and a regular entrée on the gull menu (see November 11, 2013, below, and February 2, March 20, and July 25 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).

December 10, 2013: A pied-billed grebe in nonbreeding plumage rests on a lowland pond near the Salish Sea (see also December 10 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). Here the grebe floats high in the water, but it can greatly reduce its buoyancy and sink so that only part of its head is visible. Buoyancy reduction involves compressing the plumage and expelling air from the internal air sacs (part of the respiratory system). When foraging, pied-billed grebes generally dive beneath the surface. These dives average less than one minute. The high, narrow bill with a slight hook at the end is unusual for a grebe. During the breeding season the bill is pale with a wide black ring.

The Salish Sea is at the northern end of the species' regular wintering range. The wide breeding range includes much of North America as well as Central America and portions of South America south to central Chile and southern Argentina. 

December 7, 2024, 11:45 am, 49°F, light rain: A Pacific treefrog calls strongly several times from a hidden spot on or near the ground along a lowland forest edge near Port Townsend. I look closely but can't find it in the thick vegetation. I spend all day in the local area but hear no other frog calls. As a reminder that I very much want to find and photograph one of these late-season calling frogs, I include this photo of a silent treefrog from the same site in October.

Treefrogs have been quiet here lately, coincident with cool temperatures mostly between the mid-30s and mid-40s°F. Today's calling likely reflects the warmer temperature, but as always it raises the question as to why the frogs call far away from any breeding site long after the breeding season is over (see October 8 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).

December 7, 2010: A harbor seal skull that washed ashore in southwestern Washington allows us to appreciate the huge orbits, which house the eyeballs and associated muscles. Big eyes gather lots of light and facilitate vision in the dimness experienced by the seal during dives in murky water. The pupils open very wide at low light levels, and the retina (sensory layer) has a preponderance of photoreceptors (rods) that function exceptionally well in darkness. A reflective layer behind the retina also enhances vision in darkness (this produces the "eyeshine" seen in many nocturnal mammals and birds). The seal eye's spherical lenses allow sharp vision in water but don't allow sharp focus in air. In contrast, humans have a more flattened lens and see well in air but not in water (in both seals and humans, the cornea bends light rays in air but not in water). Overall, harbor seal vision is better than a human's underwater but inferior in air. To appreciate the eyes of a live seal, see May 16 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.

December 7, 2008: I discover a few wood mushrooms (Agaricus sylvicola) on the floor of a Douglas-fir/red alder forest near Port Townsend. The white envelope shows the characteristic dark spore print. Wood mushrooms play a role in decomposing organic material in the soil.

December 6, 2010: Landscapes along the outer coast of the Pacific Northwest are highly altered from what they looked like when Euro-Americans first arrived. Non-native Ammophila beach grasses— introduced to stabilize sand dunes—now form extensive, dense monocultures (photos) where formerly the native vegetation was more openly spaced and featured areas of bare sand.  These normally dynamic landscapes depend on periodic disturbances (such as storms that create fresh sand deposits) and suffer when artificially stabilized. The thickly growing invasive grasses severely reduce or eliminate habitats of certain native plants and animals (e.g., snowy plover) that depend on more open conditions. Stabilization allows incursion of shore pines, Sitka spruce, and other upland biota that can eventually replace the natural sand dune communities. Vegetation changes triggered by invasion of non-native beach grass greatly increase the risk of fires that may damage or destroy nearby homes and businesses. Conservation groups are working to restore some of these habitats.

The photos are from a 1.2-mile-wide section of the sandy barrier spit that terminates at Leadbetter Point (3.2 miles to the north), between the Pacific Ocean and Willapa Bay, Washington. The area encompasses Leadbetter Point State Park and Willapa National Wildlife Refuge. The conifers are shore pine and Sitka spruce.

December 5, 2024, 12:43 pm: The Douglas squirrel I've been watching for the past month (see November 8, 17, 19, & 23, 2024, below) picks up a Douglas-fir cone from the ground and runs a short distance to the base of a sword fern, where—working with rapid dexterity—it descales and eats the seeds from the entire cone in 105 seconds (much faster than on November 8). Update, December 6, 2024, 11:28 am: The squirrel picks up a cone from the ground and processes it in 80 seconds; then it takes another cone and strips it of seeds in 82 seconds. Thereafter it eats the seeds from three additional cones. The squirrel has an engorged tick behind its right ear (visible in photo).

December 5, 2010: It's a beautiful late-autumn afternoon to be out on a Pacific Ocean beach in southwestern Washington, all the more so because it's Pacific razor clam harvest  season. Razor clams inhabit intertidal sandy beaches as well as subtidal areas. In this part of the range, they generally grow up to about 6 inches in length and may live up to 5 years (they grow larger and live longer in Alaska where growth is slower). Razor clams dig vertically in the sand with their muscular foot. They feed by extracting phytoplankton from water taken in through one of their two siphons. Spawning occurs in spring and summer. Extremally fertilized eggs yield free-swimming larvae that eventually develop a shell and settle on the bottom. In some years, recreational clam diggers harvest millions of razor clams in Washington. Can must be taken because these clams sometimes accumulate dangerous levels of domoic acid, a potent neurotoxin.

December 4, 2008, 4:24 pm: In the fading light after sunset, an ancient murrelet prepares to dive near Point Wilson in the Salish Sea. Its dives target schools of small fish, also pursued by a rhinoceros auklet and pigeon guillemot. Farther offshore, a diverse suite of diving birds includes common murres and marbled murrelets, for a total of five members of the auk family visible from land this afternoon. See also November 9, 2012, below. Digital painting from grainy photo.

December 3, 2013: Just before sunset near Port Townsend, an adult glaucous-winged/western gull (hybrid) and its presumed offspring from this year mutually grasp a sunflower star that the adult obtained in shallow water. This cooperative behavior makes it easier for the young gull to break off the star's limbs, which then become an evening snack. See also November 11, 2013, below.

December 3, 2011, 4:35 pm: Top and middle: In the fading light of early evening, a herd of elk (adult females and immatures) moves slowly along and across the Hoh River in Olympic National Park. The September-October rut is over, this year's young have been weaned, and few people are around, so an atmosphere of calm prevails. The young are about six months old. A few of the adult females in this herd may be as much a 20 years of age. The young and old face predatory threats from cougars, black bears, and (formerly) wolves. Deep snows sometimes maroon elk in small areas where they may succumb to starvation.

Bottom: Near the elk, we find plenty of fresh sign from much smaller mammals. Rain-softened soils and increasingly cold temperatures stimulate coast moles to extend and deepen their burrows. With their massive forefeet and short but powerful forelimbs, they push excavated soil upward into small mounds on the ground surface.

December 1, 2011: Before I caught its attention, this barred owl was looking around, alert for potential prey and keeping an eye on some of the agitated, vocalizing songbirds that flew nearby. Note that the owl's facial feathering, particularly the facial disc, is asymmetrical. The hidden ears also are not mirror images of each other. This "lop-sided" (but normal) arrangement allows precise sound localization in both horizontal and vertical planes—a critical aspect of prey detection and successful strikes at night.

November 30, 2020: Upper: An antidote to the sometimes discouragingly long nights of late November is a sunny-day visit to the Salish Sea or Pacific Ocean coast where we are likely to encounter spirited flocks of foraging sanderlings running along a sandy beach or weaving around and over shoreline cobbles. For the full experience, be sure to eavesdrop on their "conversational chatter." Lower: If it's high tide, you may find the birds tucked in and roosting quietly (commonly with dunlins and black-bellied plovers)

November 29, 2015: A fantastically feathered ruffed grouse walks along the riparian forest floor near the middle Hoh River in Olympic National Park. As we hike up the valley, the grouse are easy to overlook until they move. Ruffed grouse are fairly common year-round on the valley floor, whereas nearby subalpine habitats are the realm of sooty grouse. The two species overlap at intermediate elevations with a mixture of conifers and deciduous trees and shrubs. See also November 26, 2013, below.

November 29, 2015: Near our campsite In the chilly Hoh River Valley, frosty adornments persist on sword ferns through midday. In addition to these spiky coatings are varied tufts of delicate "hair ice" on wet wood (see November 26, 2012, below). Bottom photo: The crystalline coatings are a delightful distraction from our numbed fingers and toes.

November 29, 2020, 9:43 pm, 38°F, windy: Despite chilly conditions, a tissue moth flies in and lands on a lighted cabin window in a lowland forest clearing. This species occurs across North America but most records are from Washington, Oregon, and California, where you may see it in any month of the year. See also February 6 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.

November 28, 2010: I've been surprised to learn that patches of gumweed with abundant seed heads in unwooded areas along the Salish Sea coast sometimes attract bushtits, which are not particularly known as seed eaters or occupants of habitats lacking trees or shrubs (see also November 29 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.

November 28, 2010: When the tide recedes, black-bellied plovers spread out to forage on sandy or muddy shores of the Salish Sea. They feed on polychaete worms and small clams and crustaceans, obtained by picking or shallow probing. At this time of year, when the birds are in nonbreeding plumage, it may be appropriate to use the name "grey plover," the moniker used by British birders. Before or after you focus your binoculars on this plover, you may hear its distinctive plaintive whistles (variously rendered as pee-o-wee, whoo-ee, tee-a-wee-e, or whee-er-eee), given in flight or on the ground.

November 27, 2022: Recent strong winds in a lowland forest brought down onto a small wooden platform the dry leaves, seed cones, and tiny winged seeds of red alder, plus several dead needles of Douglas-fir and a bit of lichen. In this grove, red alder seeds disperse over a period of several months (e.g., see March 8 and April 30 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).

November 27, 2009 & 2010: In the Salish Sea, foraging dives by rhinoceros auklets drive schools of small fish to the surface, where waiting glaucous-winged (hybrid) gulls and short-billed gulls make contorted efforts to grab some of them.

November 26, 2013: We're grateful for another Thanksgiving-season backpacking trip along the Hoh River in Olympic National Park. This year, one of the treats is watching a ruffed grouse feeding on fern foliage on the forest floor. The lower photo shows a fern frond fragment dropped by the grazing grouse. See also November 28 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest and November 29, 2015, above.

November 25, 2011: During the nonbreeding season on the Salish Sea, red-necked grebes may forage alone, in pairs (see also November 10, 2011, below), in trios (see December 18, 2011, above), or in loose groups of several individuals. We know almost nothing about the familial or social relationships of grebes seen together during this season. The two grebes in the photo swam and dove in close proximity, then took off together and departed the site in the same direction. Most sightings of this species in the Salish Sea occur from September to April.

November 24, 2017: The so-called flaky freckle pelt lichen (Peltigera britannica) covers part of a mossy rock in the eastern Olympic Mountains (elevation around 4,000 feet). The green color comes from the primary photobiont, a green algae whose color intensifies when rainfall wets the dry lichen. The dark "freckles" (cephalodia) contain photosynthetic cyanobacteria that capture gaseous nitrogen and covert it into a form that can be used by the fungal and algal parts of the lichen.

November 24, 2010: Snow remains on the ground as temperatures stay below freezing in northeastern Olympic Peninsula lowlands. Black-tailed deer fill their bellies with fallen leaves of red alder and red elderberry taken the snow surface.

November 22, 2010, 10:00 pm, 23°F: Several inches of snow fell today on northeastern Olympic Peninsula lowlands. Right now, nine Pacific wrens are roosting on the ledge under our cabin eaves. Most of them are huddled tightly together (see November 22 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). November 23, 2010: It's 21°F at dawn as the wrens depart from their roost. This afternoon, the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend is completely frozen, with temperatures in the 20s°F. 10:00 pm: 18°F: No wrens are roosting under the cabin eaves. Did they shift to a site where they can stay warmer?

November 20, 2007, 9:10 pm, 38°F: A Pacific wren roosts singly on a ledge under our cabin eaves, while three others snuggle side-by-side a few feet away. Why is this one separate from the others? Does it not need the extra warmth? Is there a social factor involved?

Two nights ago (9:30 pm, 37°F), three wrens were here: one by itself and two side-by-side, facing in opposite directions.

November 19, 2024, 8:35-9:05 am, 38°F: This morning I decide to pay close attention to a Douglas squirrel as it begins cutting cones from a Douglas-fir tree. I watch and count for 30 minutes, during which time the squirrel cuts and drops to the ground 197 cones. The photo shows some of the cones beneath the tree, just as I found them. It is difficult to take a step under the tree without treading on multiple cones. This is the same tree—and no doubt the same squirrel—observed earlier this month and in recent days (see November 8, 2024, below). As I write this at 9:10 am, the squirrel is still at work, and the cone total now exceeds 210! Update, November 22, 2024, 11:40 am: The squirrel continues to cut and drop at least dozens of cones every day. Many are falling to the ground ten feet from me right now.

November 19, 2019: I park my bicycle and stroll down to a Salish Sea shore this windy afternoon. I sit with my camera and zoom in on several dozen shorebirds roosting on a cobble-covered point. Uppermost: Here's a trio of species often seen together at this time of year: dunlin (tucked in at left), sanderling (next to dunlin), and black-bellied plover (the two largest birds). Second: Nearby, one of the small flock of black turnstones gives me close look. Third: A single killdeer is here, its feathers ruffled by the wind. Fourth: Black oystercatchers dwarf the other shorebirds on this stony tidal shore. Fifth: A short walk away, surfbirds forage on barnacle-covered rocks. A nice day with good looks at the shorebird species most likely to be seen along Salish Sea shores in mid-November, all within a stone's throw of each other. I hop on my bike and head home. Now it's time to check my trail camera—two coyotes early this morning, along a heavily used deer trail (photo below).

November 18, 2010: For certain nature nerds, gull identification is a fun and sometimes challenging obsession. Usually we want to know not only the species but also the gull's age class (e.g., juvenile, second year, adult, etc.). Given that about two dozen gull species have been found in the Pacific Northwest and that each species has multiple, recognizably different age classes, identification can be a daunting endeavor. Large gull species that take longer to mature are likely to resemble other co-occurring gull species and often present the most challenging identification situations. Hybridization between gull species adds another layer of complication (see November 14, 2011, below).

As we look at a particular gull and attempt to identify it, we note its overall size; bill size, shape, and color; details of plumage color and pattern; relative wing length; and color of the legs and feet. We also listen for vocalizations. We take into consideration the time of year, molt cycles, and feather wear. We keep in mind that gulls of the same species and age do not necessarily look the same.

Today, let's look at the short-billed gull, a species that is relatively easy to identify.

Upper: The small overall size, slender, two-toned bill, gray back, mostly dark flight feathers and tail, pale-edged wing coverts, smudgy head and body, brown eye, and pinkish legs and feet indicate a first-year short-billed gull, which hatched about five months ago.

Middle: Near the first-year gull is another short-billed gull that is clearly in its second calendar year (almost 1.5 years old). Note the small bill (usually gray or olive, with a contrasting black tip), gray back, primary wing coverts that are partially much darker than the proximal wing coverts (sometimes the upperwing coverts are brownish gray), and dark outer primaries (the white spots often are lacking in individuals of this age). The white tail may or may not have a black band. Some individuals (like the one in this photo) mature more quickly than others and may have some characteristics of older birds.

Lower: At this time of year, we're also very likely to find adult short-billed gulls (at least 2.5 years old), with obvious differences from the younger birds.

Overall, in November in the Pacific Northwest, a petite gull with a decidedly slim bill that is not all black is most likely a short-billed gull. The most similar species are ring-billed gull and "Thayer's" (Iceland) gull, but with careful study each can be distinguished from the others. In difficult gull identifications, telephoto photography is an essential tool.

November 16, 2017: In a frequently seen behavior, a trumpeter swan rears up and vigorously flap its wings on a lowland pond near the Salish Sea. Trumpeter swans migrate to the region from nesting areas to the north. They arrive in numbers in late October or November and stay through winter. Look for them in lakes, ponds, large rivers, estuaries, and fields. The keel of the sternum of this swan is distinctly visible, indicating atrophied breast muscles/emaciation, yet the big bird was strong enough to fly here and soon flew off to parts unknown.

November 15, 2017: Common murres are among the most powerful of all diving birds, and when not breeding they spend their lives on marine waters. Seeing one resting on a Salish Sea shore in autumn is not an everyday occurrence, so one might suspect that this murre is unhealthy. Die-offs from starvation (related to effects of  ocean warming) sometimes occur in murres and some other seabirds, and murres are vulnerable to oil spills (see October 30, 2015, below). But this murre seemed quite vigorous as it walked up onto the beach, and its plumage appears to be free of oil (see November 15 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). As I sit quietly with my telephoto lens, the murre spends 10 minutes ashore before moving back into the water (when approached too closely by people with a dog). Once afloat, it rears up and energetically shakes its body and wings above the surface, then swims out to deeper water.

November 15, 2008: Sanderlings and dunlins fly between foraging sites along a Salish Sea shore. They easily pass me as I parallel them on my bicycle on the Olympic Discovery Trail. By noting time and distance, I crudely estimate that they sometimes reach ground speeds of at least 35 miles per hour (mph). Careful studies by others indicate that low-flying dunlins moving between feeding areas routinely fly 45 mph and sometimes reach ground speeds above 55 mph (with a tail wind). These numbers do not include migratory flights.

November 14, 2011: The large gulls we see around most of the Pacific Northwest include some that look like typical glaucous-winged gulls, others that resemble western gulls, and (especially around the Salish Sea) many that exhibit intermediate or mixed characteristics of the two species (e.g., the gull in the photo). The key characteristics that distinguish adults of the two species include bill shape and color, eye color, color of the fleshy ring around the eye, head and neck color (nonbreeding), mantle color, color of the wing tips, relative wing length, and leg/foot color. The two gull species also differ in the coloration of immature individuals.

Careful study indicates that the large gulls throughout the region represent hybridization between western gull and glaucous-winged gull, with a stronger influence of western gull genes on the outer coast (especially from Washington southward) than in the Salish Sea, where glaucous-winged gull genes and characteristics are better represented (but still mixed with western gull). We must bear in mind that the characteristics we see in an individual gull are not necessarily a precise indication of the gull's genetic makeup.

In the Salish Sea region, the numerous hybridized gulls often are referred to simply as glaucous-winged gulls because a high percentage of them look mostly like that species and not so much like western gulls. For added precision, some birders prefer to list them as "western x glaucous-winged gull (hybrid)" or "western/glaucous-winged gull." Sometimes the hybridized gulls are called "Olympic gulls," but that ill-advised designation is more confusing than helpful. [Note that the birding community generally prefers to capitalize the English names of birds, a practice that I follow only when editorial conventions require it.]

November 13, 2008: It's a beautiful November day along the Salish Sea coast. Sunshine, a biting wind, churning surf, and animated flocks of sanderlings, dunlins, and western sandpipers create a seasonally iconic scene for maritime nature lovers. In the bottom photo, a western sandpiper lowers its head and spreads its wings as it is thrown off balance by strong gust.

November 13, 2007: A defunct railroad pier—off limits to human access—serves as an excellent high-tide roost for several shorebird species along the Salish Sea coast. Appropriately, the pier—an artificial structure and source of creosote pollution— has since been removed. The only problem is that most natural roost sites have been developed for human use or are subject to a high level of disturbance by humans and dogs. Migratory shorebirds would benefit from restoration and better protection of these sites for their natural values. And perhaps we should consider creative ways to provide new roost sites to replace those we have usurped.

November 12, 2015: Gale-force winds over the normally placid Salish Sea at Port Townsend drive some waterbirds into sheltered coves but provide excellent foraging conditions for others (short-billed gull in flight; see also November 12 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). I struggle to stay upright on my bicycle and battle heavy salt spray that coats my camera lens and eyeglasses.

November 11, 2024: In a lowland forest, I'm surprised to find a wild Pacific rhododendron with a single fresh bloom, months after the end of the normal flowering season. The robust, thick-stemmed shrub is at least a few decades old, holds a full complement of healthy leaves, and flowered prolifically this past spring. All of the other buds on this plant are tightly closed.  Nearby, none of two dozen Pacific rhododendrons have flowers at this time.

November 10, 2011, 3:00 pm: With rare exceptions, we do not see deermice out and active in daylight. This is an unnatural situation as I release the mouse in afternoon daylight after removing it from our kitchen. Lately, with increasingly cold temperatures, several deermice have entered and explored our buildings as they seek food and sheltered places to nest.

November 10, 2007: A sanderling forages along the edge of a retreating wave on a sandy tidal beach: a classic autumn scene in the Pacific Northwest.

November 10 2007: A coyote glances briefly at me, then continues its hunt for voles, rabbits, or other prey in a grassy tract in Port Townsend.

November 9, 2012: An ancient murrelet pauses briefly between dives in the Admiralty Inlet section of the Salish Sea. Its dives—often coinciding with those of two nearby ancient murrelets—last less than one minute. I can't tell what they're feeding on this afternoon, but commonly taken prey include krill, sand lance, and herring. 

The bird in the photo (and at least one of the other two murrelets) likely hatched this year in late spring, probably on Haida Gwaii (about 500 miles away in British Columbia), where hundreds of thousands nest (rare nesting in Washington). The overall nesting range extends along the North Pacific from eastern Asia to the Pacific Northwest.

After hatching, the young spend only 1-3 nights in the natal burrow (unfed) before scrambling to the sea, where families of adults and juveniles immediately move far away from the nesting island. Adults feed the young (usually two per pair) for at least a month. Ancient murrelets are the only seabirds in which the young are fed entirely at sea.

November 8, 2017: An autumnal moth shows up on the window inside our little cabin. The species is widespread in North America and Eurasia. It is one of the most common moths seen in November in this lowland forest on the Olympic Peninsula. Females lay eggs that overwinter. See also October 21, 2023, below.

November 8, 2010: A common murre cruises smooth water and stretches its wings between foraging dives in the Salish Sea. This chunky seabird has relatively small wings for its body weight (see also October 30, 2015, below). It flies laboriously in air, but the wings provide powerful propulsion during underwater dives in pursuit of fish, krill, and squid. 

November 8, 2008: A great blue heron makes a short flight across a small pond lined with yellow-leaved willows. When the heron takes off (upper photo), it initially flies with the neck extended but soon retracts the head by establishing a tight S-curve in the neck (lower photo). On short flights, the neck may remain extended.

November 7, 2024, 9:00 am: This is one of three yellowjacket queens that found their way into our little cabin this past week. At this time of year, it's safe to assume that she has mated and contains sperm that will be used next spring when she begins a new colony. Meanwhile, she's looking for a good place to spend the winter, ideally not too warm or dry. As she explores the cabin corners, a large spider attacks, but she fends it off and continues to inspect the premises. Two days ago, a yellowjacket queen investigated several knots in our woodshed siding, evidently looking for an entry that might lead to a secluded winter refuge. 11:25 am, 46°F: In the upland forest near the cabin, a Pacific treefrog calls loudly several times while well hidden among sword ferns.

November 6, 2010: Ensatina salamanders occur throughout the Pacific Northwest west of the Cascade crest and north to southwestern British Columbia. With wet weather and moderate temperatures in autumn, ensatinas often can be found under downed woody debris on forest floors. Today I discover an adult under a thick slab of bark in an old forest on the eastern Olympic Peninsula. For further information on ensatinas, see August 31, September 21, and November 7 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.

November 6, 2007:  Black oystercatchers engage in a loudly vocal "piping display" while foraging along a Salish Sea shore. According to Andres and Falxa (Birds of the World), the display may serve as a "greeting between mates or as territorial display toward intruders." In this case, the birds are in a location where the species is not known to nest, but a third oystercatcher is feeding nearby, and perhaps it intruded on the pair's foraging site. However, the displaying oystercatchers did not behave aggressively toward the single bird. The piping display seemed to be an interaction confined to the two vocalizing individuals, so perhaps a greeting.

November 6, 2006, 8:06 pm:  A Montana six-plume moth (Alucita montana) flies into our little cabin and lands on an old computer keyboard. I peer closely at the little moth and notice that the wings are quite unusual. Each wing is made up of six fringed units that look somewhat like feathers. In the Pacific Northwest, adults fly in any season, except the coldest part of winter. According to Powell and Opler (Moths of Western North America), "when at rest [the moths] collapse the wing plumes...but when active they strut about with the wings fully expanded, like miniature peacocks." Larvae are believed to be miners of snowberry leaves or flowers.

November 5, 2024: On a chilly afternoon near high tide, several sanderlings (paler birds) and dunlins roost on cobbles along a Salish Sea shore. They are part of a mixed flock of around 100 birds. Periodically the sandpipers shift their position to stay above the small waves as the tide rises. Both shorebird species will be in the region for the next several months.

November 3, 2020 (election day): The non-native black rat (Rattus rattus) has plagued North America for centuries, and now one of these unwholesome pests has become a vile presence in wall of the little cabin that serves as my office. Because the smelly, immature rodent reminds me of someone, I name it Donald J. Tramp and take steps to evict it from office.

November 3, 2010:  Shaggy mane mushrooms emerged recently alongside a dirt road (a typical habitat). Shaggy mane fungi decompose dead plant material, and they also produce special structures ("spiny balls") and toxins that can immobilize and kill soil nematodes, which then become a source of nutrition (especially nitrogen).  The mushrooms are edible when young but must be eaten right away, as the caps and gills quickly dissolve into an inky black goo.

November 3, 2007:  This contorted mushroom, photographed just as I found it, with its gills facing upward, is a western amethyst laccaria (more often it is not twisted in this way). It is one of the many fungi that establish mutually beneficial mycorrhizal connections with conifer roots (in this case, Douglas-fir). It is usually seen in October, November, and December in most of the Pacific Northwest.

November 2, 2017:  A female black-tailed deer, casually foraging, pauses and looks up at me, while an adult male has eyes—and his nose—only for her. He has been following the female all morning but stays about 15-20 feet away, awaiting her receptivity to his advances.

November 1, 2017, 9:49 pm:  A silverfish clings to the side of an old wooden building near Port Townsend. Silverfish are primitive flightless insects associated with humans throughout most of the inhabited world. They thrive in damp parts of human dwellings, avoid direct light, and can run fast (but cannot  jump). The diet includes a wide range of substances, ranging from book bindings, paper, glue, carpet, and fabrics to sloughed human skin, hair, flour, food crumbs, and insect carcasses. Females lay eggs in crevices. Individuals can survive for weeks without feeding and live up to several years.

October 31, 2024:  The red-footed booby that has roosted and foraged near Port Townsend for the past few months is still around (see September 5, 2024, and August 8, 2024, below) and has been admired by thousands of birders from far and wide. This afternoon I fortuitously encounter it with a group of gulls facing into a strong chilly wind at Point Hudson. As I watch and photograph, a crow walks up to the booby and takes a close look, perhaps thinking, "What a cool Halloween costume this clever gull is wearing."

October 31, 2024:  Along the upper beach at Point Hudson, gumweed still hold hundreds of bright flowers. Even as the blooms whip around in the chilly wind, I enjoy the bright, optimistic feeling they impart to this cloudy autumn afternoon.

October 31, 2019: Near a Salish Sea shore, a crow uses its bill to flip over a chunk of wood.   Hungry crows often displace or pull aside surface objects or vegetation to see if anything edible is hidden underneath. Their efforts may be rewarded with worms, insects, crustaceans, or other invertebrates, or perhaps a gartersnake. On tidal shores, their secluded prey includes small fishes (see June 10 in A naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).

October 30, 2015:  A common murre stretches its wings between dives in Admiralty Inlet along the northeastern Olympic Peninsula. Sadly, its nonbreeding plumage has come into contact with spilled oil (the chest feathers should be pure white). Oil damages the plumage's waterproofing qualities and can lead to hypothermia. It can also lead to toxic and otherwise harmful physiological effects when ingested as the bird preens its feathers. Big oil spills can have disasterous effects. For instance, the 1989 Exxon Valdez spill in Alaska's Prince William Sound is believed to have led to the deaths of about 250,000 birds, of which 185,000 were murres.

October 30, 2010:  Along a lowland forest edge near Port Townsend, a small flock of evening grosbeaks feeds on bitter cherry seeds.  Update, October 30, 2024: I've not seen this again in the past 14 years, so to better document and recall this vivid memory from 2010 I add these photos to the one shown for the same date in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.

October 30, 2008:  Membranous pelt lichen  grows on the ground in a lowland forest clearing on the Olympic Peninsula. The brownish-orange parts are the spore-producing structures. This common lichen incorporates cyanobacteria as the primary photobiont (source of carbohydrates). The cyanobacteria also convert atmospheric nitrogen into a form that enriches the soil when the lichen eventually dies and decomposes. In the lower photo, the lichen abuts Douglas-fir needles that have completed their life span of up to several years and fallen from nearby trees, which are still lushly covered with younger needles.

dead and dying adult yellowjackets at the bottom of the excavated nest chamber

October 29, 2007: Because they are so widespread and numerous, it's easy to take mallards for granted. But imagine the mallard as a rare duck and think how excited birders would be to see such a unique and extravagant beauty as this male. Mallards are native throughout much of North America and Eurasia, with substantial introduced populations in the Southern Hemisphere. For example, the non-native mallard population in New Zealand totals approximately 4.5 million!

Most of the mallards we see are relatively young. Though they can live to an age of at least 29 years in the wild, average life expectancy of  both juveniles and adults is less than 2 years.

October 28, 2024: A small flock of golden-crowned kinglets forages on lichen-covered branches of a red alder tree just outside my office window. Looks like a good photo op. As I reach over to grab my camera, one of the kinglets crashes into the window and drops to the ground. I hurry outside and am relieved to find that the tiny bird is still alive. I gently cup the kinglet in my hand for a couple minutes and it begins to look more alert. I place it on a tree branch and take a few photos. Then it flies away in the direction of its flock. Hurray!

October 28, 2017: Upper: These are two of several "questionable stropharia" (Stropharia amigua) mushrooms that emerged from decaying plant debris beneath red alder and Douglas-fir trees. Later today, a black-tailed deer came through and ate them all. Lower: The viscid cap of one mushroom serves as a perch for a small fly and death trap for a leggy crane fly. Were the insects attracted to the mushroom as a potential egg laying site and eventual food source for their larvae?

October 27, 2010: Viewed looking down from a jetty in the Salish Sea, a Pacific lion's mane jelly swims upside down in clear water.  The sizable medusae of this jelly commonly appear in marine waters of the Pacific Northwest in summer and fall. This one is a modest six inches in diameter. Lion's mane jellies are notorious for their arrays of long tentacles and painful stings, so why does this individual appear to lack tentacles? The tentacles can be retracted when the jelly is maneuvering in shallow water or when not feeding. This reduces drag and helps prevent the tentacles from becoming ensnared on objects.

October 26, 2015: A common murre in nonbreeding plumage surfaces from a wing-propelled foraging dive in the Salish Sea. Many thousands of these powerful divers occupy the Salish Sea in fall, winter, and spring (fewer in summer). The diet includes herring, sand lance, smelt, and other fishes, also crustaceans and squid.

Common murres nest in dense colonies on islands and cliffs along the outer coast. Pairs alternately incubate their single egg, usually on bare rock, for an average of 32 days. In early summer, chicks depart the colony at about three weeks of age, while still flightless. The male parent attends the young at sea for several weeks, initially providing food.