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Celebrating Wild Nature in the Pacific Northwest
Fauna, Flora, Fungi, and Just Plain Fun
This site is dedicated to exploration, observation, investigation, documentation, inspiration, contemplation, education, and conservation.
"The delight and pleasure are in the finding out, not in the knowledge or being told the facts."
— paraphrased from Isaac Asimov & Mary Newcombe
Scroll Down for a Daily Dose of Field Observations from the Pacific Northwest
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A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest are available from Amazon.com
A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest—published in 2023—contains several color photos and observations of nature for every day of the year.
The Saga Continues
Following are more of Geoff's images, sound recordings, and natural history notes from the Pacific Northwest, arranged by day of the year (most recent at top). Some are from the current year. Others look back to previous years as indicated. The aim is to complement and expand upon the observations recorded in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
This webpage is updated almost every day, so bookmark it and come back often!
January 22, 2022: Willow buds open in early winter not only at low elevations (see January 4, 2018) but also in the mountains, such as here near a streamlet at 3,500 feet above the Methow Valley.
January 22, 2022, 4:47 pm: This is Gardner Mountain and North Gardner Mountain, viewed from the northwest side of the Methow Valley, Washington. The sticklike tree trunks reflect a small part of the aftermath of the extensive fires of 2021. According to the Methow Conservancy, in 2021, wildfires greater than 1,000 acres in size burned more than 125,000 acres in the Methow Watershed. From 2020 to 2022, large wildfires burned 59 percent of the watershed.
January 22, 2011: Today we have another good look at a pair of Barrow’s goldeneyes near Port Townsend (see January 21, 2011), You may be catching on that this species is a favorite of mine (see also January 13 in A Naturalist’s Year in the Pacific Northwest). The habits and whistling sound of the wings of Barrow’s goldeneye are much like those of the common goldeneye (see January 17, 2021). In salt water, wintering goldeneyes eat mainly aquatic invertebrates obtained on the bottom. In autumn, Barrow’s goldeneyes sometimes feast on the eggs of spawning salmon. When wintering on freshwater, they may probe under rocks to obtain crayfish.
January 22, 2010: We record today’s winter hike with a painterly view of a subalpine slope in the eastern Olympic Mountains, with a backdrop of the Salish Sea and snowy Koma Kulshan (Mount Baker).
January 22, 2010: In the high eastern Olympic Mountains, snowshoe hares have left their distinctive tracks in the snow between dense clumps of subalpine conifers.
January 22, 2010: Animal tracks in snow usually are indentations. Under the right conditions, they may later form pedestals or turrets that project above the snow surface (photos). Here, in the eastern Olympics, a large mammal (perhaps an elk) moved along wind-exposed snowy slopes, compressing the snow beneath its feet and creating indentations. Subsequently, the uncompressed snow on the slopes blew away, leaving behind the dense, compressed snow where the animal walked as projections above the now-eroded snow surface.
January 21, 2012: Where food is concentrated, sanderlings may forage in tight groups. Here a small flock (including one dunlin) focuses on food associated with driftwood and decaying algae on a Salish Sea shore.
January 21, 2011: A pair of startled Barrow’s goldeneyes paddles away after we suddenly appear at the edge of a high pier on the Salish Sea in Port Townsend. At this time of year, many males and females are paired up, but we often see adults (photo) floating and diving with immatures, not uncommonly in small flocks with adult and immature common goldeneyes. They dive to the bottom in shallow water to feed on mollusks. Today, other diving waterbirds foraging near the goldeneyes include bufflehead, red-breasted merganser, common merganser, double-crested cormorant, and pigeon guillemot—a typical assemblage of common species. But this afternoon, most birders here keep their binoculars aimed at the handsome goldeneyes.
January 21, 2012: In the Salish Sea near Port Townsend, a nicely crested male red-breasted merganser peers underwater. This is a characteristic behavior of foraging mergansers as they get set for their next dive.
January 21, 2009: Fruiting bodies of candlesnuff fungus, seen most often in autumn and early winter, have emerged from the rotting base of an old red elderberry along a lowland forest edge.
January 21, 2009: A gull (western/glaucous-winged hybrid) caught a northern kelp crab in the Salish sea and brought it to this dock at Point Hudson (Port Townsend), where it expeditiously dismantles and eats the feisty crustacean. The also gets substantial use by another wildlife species, evident from the aromatic fecal droppings of river otters (see also January 29, 2009). Though some curse the otters for this less-than-adorable behavior, the native mammals are simply using available haul-out sites in an area where natural shores have been largely destroyed or usurped by humans.
January 21, 2010: Left: Here’s where a pileated woodpecker discovered and excavated a carpenter ant nest in a western hemlock tree some years ago. Nesting cavities (but generally not feeding excavations) created by pileated woodpeckers may later serve as nest sites for Barrow’s goldeneyes (opposite page).
Right: Foraging pileated woodpeckers often create rectangular excavations, but they also make small, deep, rounded holes such as shown here in the thick bark of a Douglas-fir snag. You may see hairy woodpeckers pecking into trees that have been attacked by pileated woodpeckers. Hairy woodpeckers make smaller, shallower holes (usually less than 2 inches deep).
January 20, 2025: I’m reading about how humans and Neanderthals interbred 47,000 years ago. Of course! Who could doubt it? A very recently inaugurated politician is living proof!
Here in the Pacific Northwest, we selected Kamala Harris as our president—a decent person to lead and respect all Americans, to be a shining light for the nation and the international community. Someone who rose from humble beginnings to prominence through hard work, integrity, and competence. The kind of person you’d have over for dinner, who’d help cook and wash the dishes, and to whom you’d entrust your children.
But, if you were bamboozled by a divisive, self-centered, adulterous con man and pathological liar who’s probably never cleared the table or been in a grocery store, I hope that works out for you. If you’re a billionaire, January 6 criminal, xenophobe, misogynous sleazeball, assault weapon owner, class bully, or Russian dictator, you probably have nothing to worry about.
January 20, 2020: An adult male rough-skinned newt plods across a dirt road en route to a nearby breeding pond, a common seasonal occurrence here over at least the past 15 years. More recently (early to mid-2020s), the number of newts we see crossing this road has drastically declined, but why? Though the road is lightly traveled, steady mortality from road kills is probably a factor, but is something else going on? Amphibian chytridiomycosis (a fungal disease that has decimated amphibian populations worldwide)?
January 20, 2016: This pelagic cormorant somewhat reminds me of the tiny-winged flightless cormorants I saw in the Galápagos Islands. But the photo is a bit misleading. The fine seabird shown here has fully functional wings and easily flew up from the Salish Sea to its perch on a concrete structure well above the water.
The diminutive yet fully formed wings of the flightless cormorant of the Galápagos Islands are really quite unique (December 2, 2007).
January 20. 2008: Non-native Himalayan blackberry still has flowers from last year, pushing the season well beyond the fruitful limit. Winter temperatures and long nights prevent further development and slow down the deterioration process.
January 19, 2020: As an everyday bicyclist, I’m all too aware that just about any wildlife species you can think of eventually ends up as a casualty of fast-moving vehicles. One of today’s victims is a golden-crowned kinglet, so small that only dedicated road-kill observers (including me and ravens) ever notice them.
January 19, 2019: Though it is well past the main mating season (November-December), an antlered black-tailed deer focuses his attention on a female foraging along a lowland forest edge on the Olympic Peninsula.
January 19, 2020: Left: On a cold winter day, a western thatching ant mound stands quiet, with not a single ant visible outside. How many thousands are inside?
January 19, 2019: Left: With sunshine and mild temperatures, thatching ants are active atop their mound. Some of their activities focus on removing debris that has fallen on the mound during fall and early winter windstorms.
January 19, 2009: An adult western/glaucous-winged gull hybrid on Rat Island (northeastern edge of Olympic Peninsula) shows another adult hybrid gull a clump of vegetation in what is probably courtship behavior, several months before the nesting season begins. Perhaps the gull at right is a male displaying his nest-making proclivity to a female that is currently unpaired?
January 19, 2011: Red-breasted mergansers zoom low over the Salish Sea, where small to large flocks of these fish-eaters are among the most common diving ducks we see in winter.
January 19, 2021: In the Methow Valley, east of the Cascade crest in Washington, a red squirrel has been cutting rose hips from small bushes and eating the seeds, discarding most of the skin and pulp. As I approach on skis with my camera, it retreats to a secure perch in a nearby tree.
January 18, 2012: In the understory of a lowland forest, baldhip rose fruits remain uneaten by birds or mammals. Recent snow has blanketed the ground and may well cause robins, varied thrushes, and other animals to turn their attention to such easily found foods.
January 18, 2016: Along a Salish Sea shore, weedy field mustard plants still hold many pods containing nutritious seeds. I expect that house finches eventually will take advantage of this non-native food resource (see June 5 in A Naturalist’s Year in the Pacific Northwest).
January 18, 2011: Large numbers of western grebes winter in the Salish Sea, but I don’t often get a chance to photograph them close to shore in Port Townsend. This one simply floated quietly near a pier. Western grebes nest in eastern Washington and Oregon and throughout large areas of interior western and central North America. Some evidence suggests that nocturnal-foraging western grebes may use bioluminescence to detect and track their fish prey. A fish swimming through a swarm of bioluminescent plankton cases them to emit light. This produces a glowing “trail” and may alert the grebe to the fish’s location and trajectory.
January 18, 2008: Large-leaved avens, growing along disturbed lowland roadsides and flowering in winter, behaves like a non-native plant, but it is a native perennial wildflower. The main flowering time is spring and summer, when insect pollinators are most active.
January 18, 2008: On a frigid afternoon with a stiff breeze, a great blue heron shelters in a bulrush marsh behind a pond-edge band of willows, which serve as an excellent wind break. Herons often select roosts that reduce wind chill during chilly weather.
January 18, 2008: Here is one of a small flock of golden-crowned kinglets foraging among forest undergrowth on this chilly day. They examine and nab tiny food items from low tree branches, shrubbery, and sword ferns. They somehow fill their stomachs sufficiently to get them through the long cold night that will begin in just a few hours. See also January 2 in A Naturalist’s Year in the Pacific Northwest.
January 17, 2021: Adult and immature bald eagles roost in cottonwood trees along the Methow River (Washington). Eagles here subsist on fish, waterfowl, and carrion (including deer road kills).
January 17, 2021: Those of us who live near the Salish Sea are well acquainted with common goldeneyes wintering on salt water, so this winter it’s a treat to see these beautiful diving ducks on the Methow River, east of the Cascade crest, where they feed mainly on aquatic insects, mollusks, and crustaceans. This adult male dove periodically and often extended its head and neck forward while swimming on the surface. In flight, the rapidly beating wings of goldeneyes make a distinctive whistling sound that is especially loud in adult males.
January 17, 2023: Around sunrise, the Methow Valley near Mazama holds a dense layer of low-lying fog, which forms as cold air settles in the valley, causing atmospheric moisture to condense. At the higher elevations shown here, temperatures are often 10-20°F warmer than on the valley floor.
January 17-18, 2008: At low tide on a Salish Sea shore, crows pick up small snail shells, fly steeply upward, drop the shells onto intertidal cobbles, and quickly swoop down to examine the shell. If the shell has broken open, the crow has a meal. If not, the crow picks up the shell, flies up, and drops it again. I intercept one of the dropped shells and find a hermit crab inside.
January 16, 2017: Today’s menu for American robins in Port Townsend again includes the fruits of non-native hollies (see December 27, 2016, below). The key to controlling invasive hollies is to remove the plants before they mature and begin to flower (only females form fruits, but it makes sense to remove the pollen-producing males, too). Once fruits are present, robins are sure to eat them and disperse the seeds.
January 16, 2019: A pigeon guillemot forages in the Salish Sea near Port Townsend. Prior to some dives, it submerges its head, likely searching for potential prey in the depths below. Of course, it also keeps watch for potential danger too.
January 16, 2019: It’s still early winter in lowlands near the Salish Sea, but spring is in the air. Catkins of willows and planted European hazelnuts continue to open and lengthen, and black cottonwood buds swell with aromatic resin (I squeeze some onto my finger).
January 16, 2009: A wetland on the western side of the Olympic Peninsula has a low shrub cover of bog Labrador tea. Bog Labrador tea ranges across the northern climes of North America, where its southwestern limit is in the Washington portion of the Pacific Northwest. To me, the most interesting aspect of the plant is the densely hairy, whitish to rusty underside of the thick, leathery, evergreen leaves, the edges of which are rolled under. All these features reduce water loss from the leaves. Why would a wetland plant need to conserve water? At times, such as during winter freezes, cold-climate wetland plants such as Labrador tea may indeed experience water shortages (roots cannot extract water from ice). Though toxic in concentrated doses, Labrador tea has long been used to make an aromatic tea. As is the case for many plant chemical compounds (including most of our common spices), ingesting a little yields pleasant results, whereas eating a lot can cause physiological distress.
January 16, 2009: The sea stacks along the outer coast of the Olympic Peninsula speak of coastal erosion and the compelling views often generated by natural geological processes (see January 1 in A Naturalist’s Year in the Pacific Northwest).
January 15, 2017: With recent chilly weather, a lowland pond near the Salish Sea has frozen over. Many ducks (mostly American wigeons and mallards) and American coots loiter or rest on the pond ice. With aquatic foods not accessible, some birds move onto land and forage in small groups in nearby grassy areas.
January 15, 2009: Left: Along an outer coast forest edge in Olympic National Park, evergreen huckleberry—often seen with deep green foliage—has accumulated intense red anthocyanin pigments in what appear to be the youngest leaves (see January 18 in A Naturalist’s Year in the Pacific Northwest). So “evergreen” could be construed as a bit of a misnomer for this plant, though it does retain leaves throughout the year.
January 15, 2009: Among the driftwood washed ashore on the outer coast of the Olympic Peninsula is a small log bearing sets of wide tooth marks that indicate where a beaver gnawed off the bark. Presumably the beaver felled the tree along a river, which carried the log downstream to the ocean, where it later washed up on this beach. But which river delivered this log to the ocean?
January 15, 2025: Mule deer males near Winthrop in the Methow Valley still have large antlers. Although the mating season is over, some bucks still linger near and casually follow adult females.
January 14, 2012: Crashing waves on a Salish Sea shore create favorable foraging conditions for adult and immature short-billed gulls (see also January 19, October 26, and November 12 in A Naturalist’s Year in the Pacific Northwest).
January 14, 2012: A black oystercatcher nabs a limpet, one of the big shorebird’s most frequent foods on this cobbly Salish Sea shore near Port Townsend.
January 14, 2009: On the beach on the outer coast of the Olympic Peninsula in Olympic National Park, fellow beach goers today include a raccoon and river otter.
January 14, 2012: Fruits of Nootka rose attract a small flock of golden-croned sparrows, which nibble the red globes and appear to extract and eat the numerous seeds.
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 12, 2012: Two immature short-billed gulls fight over a food morsel that one of them caught at the surface of the Salish Sea. After an intense struggle, the gull that initially captured the food successfully retained it. Such attempted thievery (kleptoparasitism) is far less common in short-billed gulls than in co-occurring western/glaucous-winged gull hybrids.
January 12, 2012: In the Salish Sea, common goldeneyes are indeed common in winter, when they also can be found on Pacific Northwest rivers and lakes. These diving ducks do not begin breeding until at least two years of age. The photos show mature and immature males that were foraging near each other in shallow waters of Port Townsend Bay.
January 12, 2024: This week we publish in the journal Nature a paper that documents the conservation status of global freshwater biodiversity (Sayer et al. 2025). Focusing on fishes, decapod crustaceans (crayfish and relatives), and odonates (dragonflies and damselflies), our study found that one-quarter of 23,496 assessed species are threatened with extinction. Prevalent threats include pollution, dams and water extraction, agriculture, and invasive species, with overharvesting also contributing to extinction threat.
Speaking of freshwater biodiversity, you may wonder why amphibians, most of which (such as the pond-dependent rough-skinned newt shown here) rely on freshwater habitats, were not included in our assessment. That’s because the conservation status of amphibians was recently assessed and published separately (Luedtke et al. 2023). That analysis determined that an alarming 41 percent of amphibian species worldwide are threatened with extinction, so the peril faced by freshwater biota is worse than our fish-decapod-odonate study suggests!
Coincidently, I learn this week that a research paper I published on snake ecology 36 years ago was just read by a scientist in Kiev, Ukraine. It’s hard to imagine trying to study in a nation under constant attack by a powerful aggressor.
January 11, 2025: A meadow vole trail extends for hundreds of feet across a snow-covered field in the Methow Valley near Mazama. This is nearly the same spot where I found a dead vole on the same ski trail last year on January 21 (photo).Today's vole crossed a ski trail at a right angle then continued for hundreds more feet on the snow field. Voles generally tunnel under snow along ground-surface runways, but here a firm layer of crust beneath recently fallen soft snow may have forced the vole onto the surface, where it moved with a direct-register trot, placing the hind feet in the tracks made by the front feet. But why did it travel so far out in the open where it would be an easy target for owls, hawks, ravens, or other predators?
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.
right front: four clawed toes
right hind: five clawed toes
January 8, 2015: A creeping vole crept into a mouse trap set for intruding deermice in our kitchen, where voles rarely venture. Here I record for posterity images of the soles of the vole's feet, perhaps of interest only to dedicated trackers, who should be familiar with such anatomical details in order to fully understand and appreciate the animal signs we find in the field. Sometimes the impressions of individual toes, toe pads, and foot tubercles actually are visible in small mammal tracks!
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.
purple varnish clam shell with brown periostracum peeling off
interior of purple varnish clam
January 7, 2012: Along the south end of Indian Island, near the eastern side of the Olympic Peninsula, purple varnish clams (Nuttallia obscurata) are a common component of the shellfish community. This small clam (also known as purple mahogany clam and several other names), native to eastern Asia, is thought to have arrived in the Salish Sea in discharged ballast water near Vancouver, British Columbia, in the late 1980s, after which it spread rapidly throughout the region. Purple varnish clams burrow in the high and middle intertidal zones. In some areas, they have negative impacts on native clams, so they are regarded as invasive. Though edible, purple varnish clams accumulate toxins that cause Paralytic Shellfish Poisoning, so before going clamming always check the latest information on which beaches are closed to shellfish harvest.
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: Along the Elwha River Valley in Olympic National Park, the forest floor contributes delightfully to the beauty of early winter. Frost-edged fallen foliage of black cottonwood and bigleaf maple forms an attractive mosaic of anthocyanin purples and tannin browns. Another showy patch of ground features the pink/purple anthocyanins of "evergreen" stonecrop leaves mingled with the vibrant green chlorophyll of mosses and the algal component of pelt lichens.
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 4, 2014: Along the Elwha River in Olympic National Park, an American dipper alternates between foraging in the river and singing while perched on boulders surrounded by rushing water. It sings a varied medley of tinkling sounds, chirps, buzzes, and trills that sometimes continues over several minutes. On this backpacking trip, we hear dippers singing frequently over three consecutive days. With such persistent singing, the dippers here may be establishing or maintaining a territory to be used for nesting beginning in late winter or early spring. Unlike most songbirds, both male and female dippers sing elaborate songs.
January 4, 2011: In the Salish Sea near Port Townsend, two marbled murrelets repeatedly dive almost simultaneously. If they surface far apart, they call and swim toward each other before diving again. One of the murrelets surfaces with a large tubesnout and quickly swallows it whole. Nearby, another tubesnout becomes fast food for a rhinoceros auklet.
January 4, 2008: Juvenile gulls in Port Townsend continue to beg for food from their parents (see December 20, 2015, below). This adult responded by periodically turning and walking away.
January 3, 2017: Lately, golden-crowned kinglets have been foraging on lichen-adorned branches of large shrubbery and on the ground (see January 2 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). Today a kinglet spent considerable time probing the old mossy trunks and branches of red elderberry along the edge of a lowland forest opening. It ate several tiny items, one of which was a white spherical object that may have been some sort of invertebrate egg.
January 2, 2011: A double-crested cormorant begins a foraging dive in the Salish Sea near Port Townsend. As the bird arches the body and pushes with its large webbed feet to dive downward, the parallel wings briefly rise above the water but do not extend outward (compare rhinoceros auklet; see July 10 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). Sometimes a cormorant's body forms a sleek arch above the water at the beginning of a dive (see December 28 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). Several dives by this adult this afternoon all were less than 30 seconds (dives of this species rarely exceed one minute).
While submerged, cormorants use powerful simultaneous stokes of the feet to move fast. When turning or moving at a more leisurely pace, they commonly kick each foot independently. The wings are held against the sides of the body. To nab a fleeing fish with the hooked bill, they suddenly extend the neck and move the head rapidly forward while executing a powerful kick. Cormorant pursue fishes in open water and also carefully search bottom cover or rocky reefs for hidden prey.
One cormorant dive today yielded a starry flounder that was brought to the surface, whereupon a glaucous-winged/western gull (hybrid) came in and tried to grab the fish. Two red-breasted mergansers also flew in and landed near the cormorant, but they didn't aggressively go after the cormorant's prey. Eventually the cormorant swallowed the flounder.
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.
surfbird
rock sandpiper
January 1, 2012: Near the harbor seal mentioned above, the rocky islet hosts a scattering of shorebirds, including several black turnstones, surfbirds, and a rock sandpiper. Surfbird and rock sandpiper are somewhat similar in appearance but note especially the different bill shapes. Pacific Northwest wintering populations of the three species come from nesting areas that are primarily or exclusively (black turnstone) in Alaska. Digital paintings from original photos.
December 31, 2015: Mallards gleam in late afternoon sunlight as they stand on thin ice at the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. Winter temperatures and episodes of ice formation at this location on the Salish Sea coast vary greatly from year to year. During 2006-2024, the coldest temperatures of the year most often occurred in December and also frequently in January or February. Perhaps unexpectedly, in 2006, 2010, and 2015, the year's strongest cold spell occurred in November. See also January 4 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
December 31, 2014: Our casual stroll along Dungeness Spit on the south side of the Strait of Juan de Fuca yields 16 species of diving waterbirds (ducks, cormorants, grebes, loons), the most numerous being red-breasted merganser. Additional species likely are among those too distant to see clearly. The multitude of wintering diving birds reflects the Strait's rich biota of fishes, mollusks, crustaceans, and other avian food resources, which attract birds from inland and coastal nesting areas extending over a vast swath of northwestern North America.
Top three photos: A common loon surfaces with a sizable flounder and quickly swallows it head first, with the flat plane of the fish's body held parallel to the water surface.
Bottom: The dark feathers around the eye of this red-breasted merganser suggest that it is an immature male. As in most ducks, males exhibit dramatic changes in plumage color and pattern as they mature. For images of mature males, see January 11 and February 27 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
Snowshoe hare: hind feet have broken through the crust. Arrow shows direction of travel.
Snowshoe hare: smaller front tracks behind larger rear tracks. Arrow shows direction of travel.
December 31, 2010: It's a fine day for skiing and snowshoeing in the Olympic Mountains. Not coincidently, the tracks of snowshoe hares are the most numerous mammal sign we find today (other tracks along our route include ermine, Douglas squirrel, and deermouse). Powder snow atop a somewhat firm crust with soft snow beneath yields varied tracks from the hares. Sometimes the feet break through the crust, and in some tracks the individual toes are clearly visible.
December 30, 2012: As we backpack into the eastern Olympic Mountains along the lower Dosewallips River, we come to a site where a beaver has come out of the river, gnawed through a branch, and hauled it down a steep snowy slope to a recently constructed dam. The beaver's large, five-toed, webbed hind feet show up clearly in the snow. Beavers are active year-round.
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 30, 2008: Some of the black-tailed deer juveniles that were born this year are readily identified as males by the small protrusions (incipient antlers) that developed on the forehead in late summer and autumn. This male is part of the well-nourished herd that occupies the residential/commercial area of "uptown" Port Townsend, where their presence receives mixed reviews from invasive humans.
December 30, 2008: An adult bald eagle soars on an updraft along a high bluff on the Strait of Juan de Fuca. It seems to be looking for a potential meal, perhaps a carcass carried in by the tide (see December 9, 2011, below). It finds nothing of interest here this afternoon and proceeds out of view along the bluff.
surfbird
black turnstone
December 29, 2015: It's a good day to sit quietly on tide-exposed rocks and get portraits of two of the Pacific Northwest's iconic shorebirds, both often associated with barnacle-covered rocks along tidal shores, such as this site on the eastern Olympic Peninsula. The two species regularly occur together in their coastal nonbreeding ranges on the narrow coastal fringe of North America from Alaska to Mexico. The nonbreeding range of the surfbird extends much farther south, to southern South America.
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.
red-breasted merganser
common merganser with its crest ruffled by the wind
December 29, 2010: A small fishing fleet of mergansers cruises on the Salish Sea. All are females or immatures. One of the ten in the wedge of ducks is a common merganser (left foreground); the others are red-breasted. As these predators progress, one or more of them periodically submerge the head, likely looking for their fish prey. When one dives, the others soon follow. At times, most or all of the mergansers are underwater simultaneously. This behavior perhaps increases their feeding efficiency, as fish may find it difficult to escape from multiple pursuers. A fish fleeing from one merganser may be grabbed by another closing in from a different direction. See also December 12, 2010, below.
December 28, 2013: River otters forage this afternoon in the waters near Point Hudson (Port Townsend), a much-used feeding area. One otter carries in its jaws a freshly caught helmet crab. This common crustacean also frequently serves as prey for local gulls, which catch them in shallow water.
When swimming at the surface, an otter's high-set ears, eyes, and nostrils remain well above the water. As an otter climbs ashore, we see a bit of the extensive webbing between the hind toes (best appreciated when the toes are spread; see November 14 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). The claws are strong but relatively short.
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 27, 2010: I like how a photograph gives us a chance to appreciate the fine details of the plumage of this belted kingfisher. Kingfishers generally fly with irregular wing beats. Sometimes they hover in place above the water in search of prey.
December 26, 2008: Golden-crowned sparrows forage at the edge of a lowland thicket near the Salish Sea. They find food not only on the vegetated ground but also on the snow surface, where the seeds of conifers, alders, and weedy plants —still dispersing in the wind —have come to rest and are readily seen. See also December 27 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest and November 26, 2010, below.
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 25, 2010: Our hike through shallow snow on a rocky slope in the Royal Creek drainage of the eastern Olympic Mountains yields an assortment of animal sign, including the tracks and pelletized droppings of a young mountain goat. Its tracks sometimes show widely splayed toes. We enjoy finding and examining the goat sign, though well aware that this non-native species is a threat to certain plants endemic to the Olympic high country. But the goats are innocent participants in an episode of human ignorance, carelessness, and stilted priorities. We admire these magnificent mammals but deplore the actions of the people who introduced them here. See September 25, 2019, below.
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 23, 2024: A short walk from home through a lowland forest near Port Townsend brings me to a red alder with multiple sets of vertical gashes in the bark. These wounds, caused some time ago by the sharp claws of a cougar, are merely another indication that the big cats inhabit the area. Other evidence includes sightings by local residents, locations of radio-collared cougars, deer kills, tracks, and scats.
In the news: Researchers with the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife and Panthera (a wild cat conservation organization) confirmed that at least two cougars on the Olympic Peninsula recently died from "bird flu" (a virus denoted as Avian Influenza Type A H5N1). One infected cougar looked healthy but died nonetheless. The other, in extremely poor condition when discovered, was euthanized. The big cats likely picked up the disease from their prey.
Bird flu has been detected in Washington over the past few years in backyard poultry, other domestic or captive fowl, and in wild birds and mammals, including Caspian tern (a major die-off occurred at a breeding colony on Rat Island near Port Townsend), raccoon, striped skunk, bobcat, and harbor seal. It is highly likely that other wildlife are infected. In some regions of the United States, dairy cows have been infected. Humans have contracted bird flu through close contact with infected poultry. Given the spread of the disease, it makes sense to avoid contact with sickly or dead animals and to report such cases to wildlife officials or public health authorities.
stump with salmonberry and red elderberry rooted on top
salmonberry
red elderberry showing warty lenticels
stump with western hemlock trees and salal on top
December 22, 2024: Old stumps in a lowland forest near Port Townsend serve as excellent platforms for seed germination and subsequent plant growth. A moss-covered stump hosts several prickly stems of salmonberry and a large red elderberry. Another stump supports a miniature forest of sizable western hemlock trees and shrubby salal. The hemlocks likely arrived as windblown seeds that happened to land on the stump at least a few decades ago. The other plants undoubtedly arrived as seeds in the dropping of songbirds that perched on the stumps several years ago.
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 22, 2008: A fox sparrow scratches vigorously in leaf litter beneath salal and Pacific rhododendron in a lowland forest-edge thicket. Both feet move in unison with repeated "jump-kicks" as the robust sparrow dislodges leaves, moss, plant debris, and thin snow. Now and then the sparrow leans down and eats small objects (likely seeds or invertebrates). Fox sparrows reside at this site on the eastern Olympic Peninsula primarily in fall, winter, and early spring. They nest in many areas in the Pacific Northwest but generally not on the Olympic Peninsula with the exception of the outer coast.
moving quickly without stopping
hops with stops
December 21, 2008: Snow in our local lowland forest on the Winter Solstice is an invitation to look for animal sign. Immediately we find tracks of Douglas squirrels. In each of these two images, the squirrel moved from bottom to top. In the first image, the squirrel bounded quickly without stopping; the front feet are closer together than the rear feet, which propel the animal forward in a long leap, at the end of which the front feet hit the snow first. The rear feet don't hit the snow until they have moved forward of where the front feet hit. In the next image, the squirrel stopped momentarily with each bound; the front feet (closer together than the rear ones) register in front of the rear feet in each group of four prints (something like the single hops of a toad). In some tracks, we can see individual toe marks (four on each front foot, five on the rear; see December 2 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
"The Douglas squirrel is...notable for its rollicking, chattering character and sometimes cannot be outdone in its amusing displays of aggressive impudence." — E. W. Nelson, Wild Animals of North America, 1930.
With "easy flappings and sailings," an immature brown pelican approaches a Port Townsend marina. Digital painting from original fuzzy photo.
The pelican looks for a good place to land.
"Uh-oh, this may not be the best way to go...."
December 20, 2011: Here are a few more views of the brown pelican that hung out around a Port Townsend marina in December 2011 (see December 19 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest), The silhouette gives us a view of the partially extended neck, which seems a bit too slender to support the bulky head and immense bill. Though the marina isn't as densely packed with boats as the telephoto image makes it look, the pelican deftly steers its 8-foot wingspan among a potentially hazardous array of masts and stays. And over several days it successfully lands on and takes off from various pilings, docks, and boats. Brown pelicans are more nimble than they appear!
"The flight of the Brown Pelican, though to appearance heavy, is remarkably well sustained, that bird being able not only to remain many hours at a time on wing, but also to mount to a great height in the air to perform its beautiful evolutions. Their ordinary manner of proceeding, either when single or in flocks, is by easy flappings and sailings alternating at distances of from twenty to thirty yards, when they glide along with great speed." —John James Audubon, Birds of America, 1827-1838 (a work that reflects the brighter side of an enslaver and white supremacist).
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 19, 2016: Trees and shrubs holding small red fruits in December are sure to attract hungry American robins, cedar waxwings, and other frugivorous birds (see also December 19 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). Before the arrival of non-Indigenous people, robins in the Pacific Northwest depended on native plants and animals. With the introduction of a plethora of Eurasian species, the robin menu is now much larger, often including the fruits of planted and invasive trees and shrubs. This afternoon, robins focus on the fruits of native madrone trees and non-native common hawthorn (photo). With wet weather and moderate temperatures, robins consume large numbers of non-native earthworms. often obtained from pastures, lawns, or other clearings created by humans. I should mention here that the Pacific Northwest has several species of native earthworms in addition to a much larger number of introduced species. The familiar "nightcrawler" is not native. Robins take advantage of urban and suburban plantings not only as food sources but also as favorable places to nest. Of course, robins thrive in suitable natural areas where human influence is negligible.
When I was a youngster, flocks of American robins frequently descended on local fruit-bearing shrubbery in fall and winter. When their bellies were full, they roosted in large numbers on nearby power lines (we quickly learned not to walk beneath the birds). Some local residents took more than average interest in these well-fed robins. For instance, one day I discovered that the freezer on my neighbor's farm was well stocked with plump robins destined for their cookpot. I have to admit that their robin's-breast stew was quite good.
December 20, 2016: An adult cedar waxwing swallows a common hawthorn fruit. The protruding object near the fruit is the waxwing's tongue, which aids in pushing the fruit into the throat. A golden-crowned sparrow also nibbled common hawthorn fruits today, but I didn't see it swallow any of them whole. Maybe it took only the seed?
December 18, 2016: Though we're not yet at the Winter Solstice, a few common (European) hazelnut pollen catkins are beginning to loosen and lengthen near a lowland pond on the Olympic Peninsula. However, most hazelnut pollen release won't occur for another several weeks. Nearby, willow catkins are also beginning to emerge (see December 18 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
Common hazelnut, native to Europe and the source of "filbert" nuts, has been planted in the Pacific Northwest and also grows wild in various moist thickets and forest edges west of the Cascades. It tends to flower earlier than the native beaked hazelnut (see December 28 and August 21 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). Both species are wind pollinated and have tiny pink seed flowers (see January 22 and February 5, 19, & 23 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
December 18, 2011: A trio of red-necked grebes (upper) cruises near an immature Pacific loon (lower) in the Salish Sea near Port Townsend. Grebes might seem to be closely related to loons, but genetic evidence indicates that the closest living relatives of grebes are...flamingos! Grebes and flamingos diverged from a common ancestor more than 30 million years ago, so they've had plenty of time to evolve their strikingly different characteristics.
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, 2024: A mixed flock of ruby-crowned and golden-crowned kinglets forages through the understory of a lowland forest opening near Port Townsend (same site as December 15, 2010, below). The tiny birdlets methodically search live and dead fronds of sword ferns as they move steadily along with short flights of a few feet or less. Golden-crowns also closely examine crevices, lichens, and mosses on red alder bark. Lately, I've seen kinglets foraging here a few times each day. See also October 28 and November 30, 2024, below).
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 14, 2022: A small group of red-breasted mergansers (an adult male with several adult females or first-year immatures) zooms over the Salish Sea, where the species is a common nonbreeding visitor, mainly from September-October to April-May. This may seem like only a mildly interesting observation until we attempt to truly understand what we are seeing. Where did they originate (hatch)? What are the familial (genetic) relationships within this group? How do they decide when to depart one area and go to another? How do they determine where to land? Do they have a leader? Where are they going? Will these individuals remain here for winter or continue southward as far as Mexico? Are there strong connections between the specific locations where they breed, molt, and spend the winter? And so on. Our knowledge of this common species, like many others, is narrow and shallow. We do know that red-breasted mergansers are among the fastest ducks in flight, reaching speeds of up to 80 miles per hour, so they can travel from here to there quite quickly!
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 13, 2008: At high tide, a surfbird roosts on an old pier on the Salish Sea coast. The chunky shorebird is part of a small flock of surfbirds and black turnstones, two of several species that frequently roost here. This shorebird roost exemplifies an unfortunate situation I've mentioned before (see November 13, 2007, below, and January 22 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). That is, shorebirds often make heavy use of human-made structures as secure places to roost. However, many of these older structures (such as the one in the photo) feature creosote-coated timbers that pollute coastal waters. Removing them makes sense. But most of the natural roosts to which shorebirds might shift have been destroyed or degraded by development, or they are heavily disturbed by people and their dogs.
December 12, 2010: A flock of foraging red-breasted mergansers becomes the target of kleptoparasitic attacks by glaucous-winged/western gull hybrids in the Salish Sea. When a merganser surfaces with a fish in its bill, the gulls pounce and attempt to grab the prey (or pick up a fish that the startled merganser has released). This afternoon, an adult gull attacks several times and is soon joined by a juvenile gull (likely the adult's offspring). Sometimes the two gulls quickly move in on a merganser from opposite directions. The mergansers usually hold onto their prey and flee across the water surface, or they dive underwater to escape the gulls.
Bottom photo: Near the flock of red-breasted mergansers, we zoom in on a common merganser as it securely holds a slippery fish in its serrated bill. Bill serrations are present in all mergansers.
December 12, 2010: Near the mergansers (see above), a diving rhinoceros auklet does not surface with fish in its bill, and its dives do not drive fish schools to the water surface. Accordingly, the foraging auklet does not attract the interest of any gulls. Compare June 20, July 10, 19 & 27, August 30, November 9 & 21, and December 9 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
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 11, 2013: A northwestern salamander (Ambystoma gracile) ambles along a lowland forest floor near a small pond. We identify the robust amphibian as an adult male based on the bulbous swelling on each side of his vent (vent area is not bulbous in females). The swollen area contains glands that produce spermatophores (gelatinous masses that bear sperm). Males deposit spermatophores on pond bottoms; females take up the sperm into their vent See also December 11 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 9, 2011: An adult bald eagle keeps an eye out for a potential meal as it glides along a high bluff on the Salish Sea coast. When not foraging, a pair of eagles at this site often roosts together in a Douglas-fir tree with a commanding view near the top of the bluff.
At this time of year, eagles here catch various live fishes and waterbirds, and they consume lots of carrion (fishes, ducks, grebes, murres, cormorants, coots, other waterbirds, marine mammals, road-killed mammals, crabs, octopus, and other mollusks). Sometimes they take live prey from ospreys, gulls, herons, or river otters. Bald eagles opportunistically gorge themselves on large carcasses, so much so that they may be unable to take flight (see February 7 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). If necessary, under moderate conditions, they can survive without food for weeks.
December 8, 2019: A pair of harlequin ducks rests ashore between feeding periods along a Salish Sea coast. Thousands of harlequin ducks spend the nonbreeding season in the Salish Sea. Individuals tend to use the same wintering area in successive years. In spring, they migrate to nesting areas in the Olympic Mountains, Cascade Range, Coast Mountains, and Rocky Mountains. A study in British Columbia found that males fattened up in coastal wintering areas before moving to nesting habitats in the mountains, where they subsequently lost weight (body mass). Females gained nutritional resources for egg production along their mountain stream nesting habitat. See also November 1 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
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 6 & 12, 2010: Upper: The large gulls on the outer coast of southwestern Washington look mostly like western gulls , but some exhibit certain characteristics of glaucous-winged gulls.
Middle and lower: Sometimes we see gulls that look mostly (but usually not entirely) like western gulls in the Salish Sea, especially in late fall and winter in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Most large gulls in the Salish Sea look more like glaucous-winged gulls with a bit of western gull thrown in. The confusion results from hybridization between the two species (see November 14, 2011, below). These adult gulls were photographed near Port Townsend.
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, 2018: A pigeon guillemot rises up and vigorously flaps its wings above the water several times, then begins a wing-propelled dive in the Salish Sea. The guillemot dives about 25 feet to the bottom, stays submerged for less than a minute, and surfaces a short distance from where it submerged. At the surface, it sometimes pokes its head underwater and appears to search for prey. At this site, gunnels/pricklebacks are common food items, but the guillemots most often surface without prey (which may be swallowed underwater). This observation was included in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest, but here I provide additional information.
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, 2011: Upper: After spending about two years at sea, a coho salmon (its body beginning to deteriorate) cruises through a pool in the Hoh River on its way to upstream spawning gravels. Next three photos: Coho salmon die after spawning, and the nutrients in their carcasses gradually move into aquatic, riparian, and upland ecosystems via decomposers and scavengers. Spawning males (bottom photo) have strongly hooked jaws. See also December 3 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
The Hoh River—undammed and without much influence of hatchery fish—supports an exceptionally rich diversity of wild salmonids. However, populations show a long-term decline in abundance, due to factors such as harvest pressure and changes in river flow patterns related to climate change.
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 2, 2009: Along Salish Sea shores, dunlins and sanderlings commonly forage together and frequently share the same roost at high tide (photo; the darker birds are dunlins). Here in Port Townsend, both species are at least 1,400 miles from the nearest likely breeding areas in the Arctic. They spend much more time in nonbreeding habitats than in their nesting areas (a common pattern in migratory shorebirds that nest in the Arctic). Western Hemisphere migrations of the two species differ in that the majority of sanderlings winter in Central and South America while virtually all dunlins remain in North America. That said, sanderlings are very widespread and common on North American shores in winter.
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.
Hutton's vireo
golden-crowned kinglet
November 30, 2024: A multi-species flock of small songbirds foraging along a lowland forest edge includes Hutton's vireo, ruby-crowned kinglet, golden-crowned kinglet, chestnut-backed chickadee, black-capped chickadee, red-breasted nuthatch, and brown creeper. A song sparrow pair is here, too, but remains behind when the loose flock moves away and out of sight. Flock members vocalize and closely examine shriveled elderberry leaves, rhododendron foliage, tree and shrub bark, lichen tufts, and sword ferns (golden-crowned kinglets pay particular attention to the undersides of sword fern fronds). Occasionally they eat something, but it's very difficult to identify their tiny prey.
Foraging flocks of multiple insectivorous bird species are a readily observed feature of many Pacific Northwest forests, primarily during the nonbreeding season. The species in today's flock, plus small woodpeckers, are typical members of these flocks. But why forage in a flock like this? Although the birds in such flocks eat many of the same food items and might potentially compete with one another, flock members may benefit through improved food finding (e.g., faster discovery of food-rich areas). Movements of many birds through the trees and undergrowth may cause hidden insects to take flight and become available to flock members. Additionally, flock members may experience reduced predation. With so many eyes, it is more difficult for a predator to approach undetected. An alarm call by one bird may alert others of potential danger. Also, a bird that is near multiple other birds has a reasonable probability of not being the one targeted by a predator (compared to a bird foraging alone). Furthermore, birds that forage together in late afternoon have ready-made partners for huddling together for warmth and energy conservation on long, cold nights (see January 2 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
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: Upper: A Douglas squirrel gets an early start on a chilly morning along the middle Hoh River Valley in Olympic National Park. At this time of year, squirrels and other day-active animals have less than nine hours between sunrise and sunset to satisfy their daily food requirements and conduct other essential activities (e.g., nest maintenance).
Lower: A Douglas squirrel finishes off a Sitka spruce cone. It bit off several dozen scales from the cone, one at a time, and ate the two seeds at the base of each scale. Discarded scales form a substantial midden. Cones are super-abundant this year, so squirrels can quickly fill their bellies with nutritious food whenever they choose.
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, 2013: Increasingly cold weather stimulates deermice to find food resources and suitable nest sites for the upcoming winter. I release this one in the woods after trapping it next to a compost bucket under our kitchen sink. Before freeing the mouse, I mark it so that I will recognize it if it shows up again. During succeeding nights, the mouse stayed out of our kitchen (or at least avoided my trap!).
November 29, 2013: An American robin plucks and swallows several single snowberry fruits from a forest-edge thicket in Port Townsend But today robins primarily focus on the red fruits of non-native common hawthorn—a more popular selection for birds at this time of year (e.g., see December 1 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
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, 2020: In most of the Pacific Northwest, fly agaric mushrooms appear primarily in autumn (September-December), with a strong peak in October-November. They often occur in groups. The cap color varies from yellow to red. Fly agaric mushrooms are native to the Northern Hemisphere but have been inadvertently introduced south of the Equator (for instance, with pine seedlings used to establish plantations). In New Zealand and Australia, fly agaric has become an invasive fungal weed. For further information, see September 15 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, 2012: Along the Hoh River Valley in Olympic National Park, an American dipper forages in a chilly stream. It submerges its head while standing, wading, or swimming, and it also dives completely underwater and searches for food on the bottom in deeper water. The dipper's diet consists of aquatic and riparian invertebrates, fish eggs, and sometimes small fish. See also May 23 and June 14 & 26 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
The American dipper (John Muir's "water ouzel") is one of five dipper species worldwide. They are the only songbirds that habitually swim and dive underwater. The name "dipper" pertains to their frequent up-and-down bobbing motion while standing or walking but coincidentally applies also to their aquatic habits.
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 26, 2012: Coho salmon are spawning along the Hoh River near the Olympus Guard Station in Olympic National Park, where we usually have good luck seeing them in November and December. At this point, the salmon have swam approximately 44 river-miles up the Hoh River from its mouth. We walked only about 10 miles from the trailhead to get to the same point. It's hard to photograph them in this tree-shaded stream.
The salmon die after spawning. Their carcasses and eggs provide sustenance for bears, eagles, dippers, insects, and other animals. The marine-derived nutrients in the salmon gradually infiltrate and benefit the entire ecosystem along the river.
November 26, 2012: Near the salmon (see above) are many clumps of "hair ice" that grew out of wet wood last night (photos below). Some are several inches across. These so-called "frost flowers" are not actually frost but more akin to needle ice. See January 8, November 26, and December 3 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
November 26, 2010: Another day with big wind-driven waves on the Salish Sea means great foraging conditions for short-billed gulls (see October 21, 2014, below).
November 26, 2010: Big waves crashing on a Salish Sea shore deposit thick mounds of algae (seaweed) and the remains of a giant Pacific octopus. The octopus's sucker-covered limbs provide a noontime meal for a glaucous-winged gull (hybrid).
November 26, 2010: A small flock of golden-crowned sparrows forages on and near the ground along the edge of a weedy lowland thicket in Port Townsend. Some of the sparrows are nibbling dandelion seeds. Golden-crowned sparrows nest in Alaska and western Canada (possibly as far south as northern Washington). In winter, they range from southern British Columbia to extreme northwestern Mexico. In most of the Pacific Northwest, we see them from late summer or early fall through early spring, primarily when we're wearing more than shorts and a t-shirt.
November 25, 2013: Near Hoh Lake in the Olympic Mountains, strong winds have dispersed the small winged seeds of yellow-cedar (Nootka cypress, Alaska-cedar) onto the snow surface. Seed dispersal may continue through winter and into spring. The seeds have a low germination rate and may remain dormant for a year or more. Once established, yellow-cedar grows slowly and can attain an age of 1,000 years or more.
Yellow-cedar seed cones are green and berrylike in their first year. Pollination occurs in the second year (see March 26, 2015, below). Depending on local conditions, the cones mature, open, and begin to release the seeds at the end of the second or third year. The photo shows maturing seed cones in mid-September along the Skyline Trail in Olympic National Park. See also August 10, 2006, below.
Yellow-cedar, known for its pale, shreddy bark, ranges from Prince William Sound (Alaska) to the Siskiyou Mountains of northwestern California. In some situations, it grows as a straight, upright tree.
On mountain ridges, yellow-cedar forms shrubby, wind-sculpted thickets ("krummholz"), such as here (left foreground) along the Skyline Trail in Olympic National Park (September 2020).
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 25, 2010, 10:34 am, 34°F: A Trowbridge's shrew scampers over the snow in a lowland forest near Port Townsend (Quimper Wildlife Corridor). I get one quick snapshot before it disappears into an adjacent thicket of salal and sword fern. Shrews are active day or night throughout the year.
November 24, 2017: A Canada jay investigates us as we travel along a hiking trail in the eastern Olympic Mountains. These opportunistic birds quickly learn to take advantage of food discarded, left unattended, or offered by humans. The jay moves on after we decline to share our lunch.
Canada jays range across boreal North America and southward in the Rocky Mountains to northern New Mexico and through Pacific Northwest mountains to northern California. They are sometimes confused with Clark's nutcracker (see September 14, 2023, below), but note especially the much smaller bill of the Canada jay and the pale gray and white head of the nutcracker. As you might predict, Canada jays do not use their modest bill to peck into and open conifer cones as strong-billed nutcrackers habitually do.
The big, rounded head and small bill give adult Canada jays a somewhat juvenile appearance. Some individuals live into their mid-teens.
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 23, 2024, 1:15 pm: The Douglas squirrel that cut and dropped to the ground hundreds of Douglas-fir cones in recent days (see November 19, 2024, below) finishes off the seeds from one of his harvested cones (just picked up from the ground). I confirm his gender today as I watch him feed in the tree from which the cones were cut. He's individually recognizable from the unique array of scars on his face and ears (likely caused by ticks; see August 21 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). 1:20 pm: He's on the same tree branch, feeding on another cone retrieved from the ground.
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?
fox sparrow
song sparrow
house finch
November 21, 2010: There's lots of bird activity in a lowland thicket of Himalayan blackberry near Port Townsend Bay, so I brake my bike and take a look. I find fox sparrows, song sparrows, house finches, and spotted towhees all nibbling the numerous shriveled seedy fruits that still remain on the thorny, non-native plants. Fox sparrows migrate to the area in fall and are common in winter and through early spring (rare/absent in the spring-summer breeding season). Song sparrows, house finches, and spotted towhees are abundant year-round breeding residents.
November 21, 2010: Near a Salish Sea shore, many gumweed plants are thoroughly dried out, while others have flowers still holding yellow petals. This afternoon, a loose flock of ten bushtits feeds from the plentiful gumweed seed heads. The bushtit in the photo is a male, recognizable by his dark eyes. See also November 29 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
This tiny songbird is the only member of its family (Aegithalidae) that occurs in the New World. It is also known for its intriguing nesting and social behavior (see January 21, February 9, April 2, and May 25 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
Insects and spiders appear to dominate the bushtit diet, but at times I have seen these unique little birds eating not only from gumweed seed heads but also the dried-up fruiting heads of Himalayan blackberry (in fall and spring). I want to spend more time observing bushtits during the colder months to learn more about what they eat when arthropods may not be readily available.
November 21, 2009: Pacific madrone trees still hold loads of ripe fruits that attract hungry American robins.
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 17, 2024: The cone scales are flying as a Douglas squirrel eats the seeds from Douglas-fir cones on the deck in front of my office cabin. It sits on or near its ever-growing midden pile with its back to the building, looking out toward the open area from which danger might come. It deftly processes several of the cones that it cut and dropped to the ground in recent days (see November 8, 2024, below, and November 19, 2024, above).
November 17, 2011: A horned grebe in nonbreeding plumage looks under water between foraging dives in the Salish Sea. Probably it is searching for prey (e.g., fish), though it might also be scanning for potential danger. Available information indicates that the eyes of diving birds maintain sharp vision in both air and water through rapid and severe changes in the shape of the lens. Humans lack this ability and have blurry underwater vision (in water, the cornea loses its refractive effect, with no major compensatory change in lens shape). For further information on horned grebes, see February 6 & 7, May 6, and October 14 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
Nootka rose
November 17, 2008: Intermingled fruits of Nootka rose and snowberry create festive, long-lasting decorations in lowland thickets around the Salish Sea.
common snowberry
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, 2015: American robins gulp down fruits of non-native plants in Port Townsend, including firethorn (upper) and holly (lower). A few weeks ago, cedar waxwings were here, partaking of the same exotic bounty (see October 23 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). Do prolifically fruiting non-native plants compete with native species (such as Pacific madrone) for the seed-dispersal services provided by robins, waxwings, and other birds?
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 13, 2020: I place two deer legs from a hunter's kill in front of my trail camera along a path in a lowland forest. Soon, a raven comes in, uses its bill to flip over one of the legs, then departs without feeding. A raven can fly while carrying a fairly substantial load, but the deer legs seem to be too big and heavy to carry away. November 14, 2020, 8:28 am: A coyote approaches with its nose in the air, picks up one of the legs, and trots away with it. 8:47 am: The same coyote returns, picks up the second leg, urinates while squatting slightly and lifting the left rear foot off the ground (photo), then trots off out of view. 9:07 am: The coyote returns, sniffs the ground where the legs were, urinates while slightly squatting with the right rear foot lifted (ambidextrous?!), then departs.
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 14, 2010: In a lowland forest on the northeastern Olympic Peninsula, grand fir saplings have a mixture of green and yellow needles. The yellow needles are infected by a fungal disease. The fungus—fir-fern rust—requires two hosts to complete its life cycle. Spores produced in structures on the underside of fir needles infect the alternate host—bracken fern or sword fern.
November 14 2009: I find a freshly dead Trowbridge's shrew on the Olympic Discovery Trail near Port Townsend. It shows no obvious wounds or signs of emaciation (body weight = 5 grams = 0.18 oz). Note the strongly bicolored tail (dark stripe on top) typical of this species. As in all shrews, the front feet have five clawed toes (versus four in mice and most other rodents). I gently push back the hair and eyelids to reveal the eye, which in life is less noticeable than it is here (see March 30. May 8, and September 5 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
November 13, 2020: Upper: The gleaming "flash" of fast-moving sandpiper flocks comes from the birds' white undersides. When they change direction and show their uppersides, the color darkens, especially if dunlins dominate the flock. This flock has several dunlins mixed with numerous sanderlings. Both species are in nonbreeding plumage. Lower: The upperside of a dunlin (bird at far left) is much darker than that of a sanderling. But both exhibit dramatic seasonal changes in coloration. See also November 13 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
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 12, 2013: A family of river otters heads out to the Salish Sea after taking a short rest ashore. The young (about 6-8 months old) are fairly adept at catching their own food, but the mother sometimes relinquishes to them fish that she has caught and partially consumed. See November 12 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
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 11, 2013: A young gull (glaucous-winged/western) eats a small sunflower star in shallows of the Salish Sea. It breaks off an arm, swallows it, then reaches down, breaks off another arm, and so on. This photo was taken at the beginning of the Sea Star Wasting Syndrome Pandemic that caused large declines in sea star populations in the region.
November 11, 2012: The season's first flock of common goldeneyes (about 30) arrives on a lowland pond on the northeastern Olympic Peninsula. A few of these late-migrating ducks sometimes show up in the area in October, but most arrive in November and December. Nesting areas extend across boreal Alaska and Canada, with very rare breeding as far south as northeastern Washington.
November 10, 2011: Red-necked grebes swim and dive in the Salish Sea. The grebe near the top pf the photo still shows elements of its breeding plumage. The nearest nesting areas are on lakes, reservoirs, ponds, and sloughs in northeastern Washington and interior southern British Columbia. Some nest as far north as Alaska, Yukon, and Northwest Territories. After breeding, red-necked grebes commonly migrate to specific areas where they molt and become temporarily flightless before continuing to wintering areas. By now, the grebes in the photo should have completed their molt of flight feathers and regained their ability to fly. Will they remain here for winter (as very many do) or continue southward along the Pacific coast to Oregon or California (the usual southern extent of the winter range)?
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 10, 2007: On the Quimper Peninsula south of Port Townsend, young bigleaf maples still hold a bit of yellow foliage. See November 8, 2008 and October 1, 2024, below.
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 9, 2007, 50s°F, cloudy: Northwestern gartersnakes are still active despite the cool weather that now prevails. Unfortunately some become roadkills after they move into open situations where they can bask or absorb warmth from the ground. The roadkill shown here (mortally injured but still moving) is an adult male, recognizable as such by the thick area at the base of the tail, just behind the vent. This is where the paired copulatory organs (hemipenes) reside when not in use (see September 8 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
November 8, 2024, 2:55 pm: A Douglas squirrel descales and eats the seeds from a Douglas-fir cone while perched on a dead branch next to the trunk of the tree from which the cone was cut. It takes four minutes for the squirrel to process the entire cone. A minute later, after descending to the ground, it was back on the same perch eating the seeds from another cone. Update, November 10, 2024, 10:43 am: Squirrel is high in the Douglas-fir tree, cutting and dropping more cones. At least twenty cones hit the ground over several minutes. Update, November 13, 2024, 7:37 am: Ditto November 10 on this cloudy, windy morning. Update, November 16, 2024, 8:05 am: Another extended volley of more than 40 squirrel-cut cones falls from the same Douglas-fir tree. See also November 19, 2024, above.
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: On a dock in Port Townsend, river otters (siblings, no doubt) engage in the intimate physical contact that is so natural to them. After snuggling, grooming each other, and peeing and pooping, they eventually head back to the water together for a late afternoon meal.
In the Pacific Northwest, river otters feed opportunistically on both freshwater and marine prey, ranging from fish and frogs to birds and bats. Bats?! The explanation for that odd food item takes us back to the summer of 1938. Mammalogist Walter Dalquest and associates were collecting bats by shooting them as they foraged over the water at Thatcher Bay on Blakely Island (San Juan Islands). The shooters used a rowboat to retrieve the dead, floating bats. Initially all went according to plan, but then some of the shot bats started disappearing. Eventually they discovered that three or four river otters were taking their bats. "On succeeding nights the otters became bolder. A dead bat became the object of a race between otters and collector. They completely ignored shouts, dodged stones hurled at them, and stole almost all the bats shot. Only a sense of humor and desire to study the animals saved them from a load of fine shot. Bat collecting was given up in disgust." From Mammals of Washington, 1948.
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 7, 2020: Bam! Bam! Bam! Douglas-fir cones rain down on our old Airstream trailer as a Douglas squirrel cuts them from the big tree above. The cones still contain lots of winged seeds. Scattered fresh middens of cone debris indicate that some of the cones are serving the squirrel's immediate food needs. In this lowland forest, cone harvest by squirrels extends over a long season lasting several months (e.g., see June 3, 2024, below).
November 7, 2017: Flamboyant hooded merganser males engage in courtship displays at the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. Behaviors include crest-raising, head-shaking, head-throws, head-pumping, and upward-stretches, sometimes with vocal accompaniment (croaking and popping sounds), as females swim and watch nearby, This is part of the process by which male-female pairs are formed, well before the next breeding season. Hooded mergansers (up to around 50 individuals on a single day) can be found on the lagoon throughout the year, though the ducks come and go and are not necessarily seen on every visit.
The image below shows a male with his crest ("hood") lowered.
red-osier dogwood
red flowering currant
black hawthorn
Cascade barberry (2010)
oceanspray
bramble
pink honeysuckle (2024)
November 7, 2009, 2010, & 2024: The effects of sun, cold, and changing daylength combine to bring out anthocyanin-based red and purple foliage of native shrubs and vines.
November 6, 2017: Point Wilson, on the northeastern tip of the Olympic Peninsula, is a good place to find western meadowlarks during fall and spring migration and in winter (mainly October to April-May). At times, up to a half dozen (very rarely more) of these open-country birds may be on the point. In the Pacific Northwest, western meadowlarks are common nesters in the grasslands, shrub steppe, and agricultural areas east of the Cascades, and they breed in a few grasslands around the Salish Sea (but not at Point Wilson). West of the Cascades, numbers have declined with loss of prairie habitat. See also May 18, 2015, below.
November 6, 2015: Black oystercatchers roost on a tidal shore as a stiff wind buffets the birds and thrashes the usually calm Salish Sea. No piping displays are evident today (see November 6, 2007, below).
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.
knapweed*
sea-rocket*
California poppy*
Himalayan blackberry*
tansy ragwort*
nipplewort*
large-leaved avens
great mullein*
hairy vetch*
mustard*
honey bee* on sea-rocket* - November 5, 2024
common cat's-ear*
yarrow
goldenrod
gumweed
November 5, 2007: Here's a small gallery of some of the plants that are still flowering in lowlands around the Salish Sea. Most are non-native (indicated by asterisk). See also October 23, 2017, below. Update, November 5, 2024: All of these are flowering in the same area on the same date 17 years later. Despite today's cool weather (upper 40s°F ), a sun-warmed honey bee collects pollen and nectar from sea-rocket flowers.
November 5, 2006: Bird Rocks—three low islets in the southeastern sector of the San Juan Islands archipelago in Rosario Strait—are home to a rich seabird fauna (upper photo), and they also serve as a regular haulout for harbor seals and nonbreeding Steller sea lions (lower photo). The rounded islets were shaped by glacial ice that flowed through this area during the Pleistocene. The site is part of the San Juan Islands National Wildlife Refuge.
Today, several hundred cormorants rest on the rocky islets. Most are pelagic cormorants, with a scattering of double-crested and Brandt's cormorants. During the breeding season, double-crested cormorants have stick nests atop the islets, while pelagic cormorants nest on seaweed and guano on the steeper slopes (Brandt's cormorants do not nest here). All depend on the productive fish populations of the Salish Sea. This afternoon, when groups of cormorants take off, they sound like a hearty round of applause.
November 4, 2017, 6:32 am, 32°F: I pay an early morning visit to Pacific wrens that spent last night on a ledge under our cabin eaves. From inside the cabin, I heard them moving around a few minutes ago, and now they're wide awake. In addition to these two, the ledge hosts three single wrens (not in contact with other wrens), and a snuggled cluster of three. They stay on the ledge until daylight, then head out to forage on this chilly morning.
November 4, 2007: These shaggy mane mushrooms have reached a later stage of development than those shown below (see November 3, 2010).
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 3, 2007: Giant vetch is a sprawling or climbing native vine that occurs widely in the lowland Pacific Northwest west of the Cascades. Here the seed pods (almost 2 inches long) are splitting open along a forest edge. Bumble bees visited the pea-like flowers of this plant back in late May. Various birds, mammals, and insects surely eat the seeds, but I have no specific information about this.
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 2, 2015: A young black-tailed deer nibbles lichens from a broken-off branch of a red alder tree. Afterward, it consumes fallen leaves of red alder and foliage of red elderberry and salmonberry, bypassing sword fern, salal, oceanspray, and Pacific rhododendron, though all are within easy reach.
November 1, 2008
November 2, 2010
November 2, 2010
In early November, red-osier dogwood is one the most colorful of native shrubs, as the leaves accumulate anthocyanins before being shed. In some years, it's densely loaded with white fruits (see October 8 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). However, fruits sometimes are few or totally lacking (photos). A close look reveals that autumn fruit scarcity is usually not a result of frugivory. Instead, numerous flowers simply did not produce fruits. Is the dearth of fruits due to inadequate pollination by bees or other insects, or is it a result of limited nutrient or water availability?
November 1, 2024: Nonbreeding adult (all-white tail) and immature Bonaparte's gulls fly low over Port Townsend Bay. Periodically they dip or dive to catch small fish or crustaceans. These tern-like gulls, common around the Salish Sea from late summer through early spring, also forage over freshwater lakes and rivers, congregating wherever food is abundant. Unlike many other gulls, they're not attracted to garbage dumps. The birds shown here came from nesting areas in Alaska or northwestern Canada. Migrants along the Pacific coast travel only as far south as Mexico.
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.
November 1, 2008: Near Port Townsend, at the extreme northeastern tip of the Olympic Peninsula, vibrant autumn color of tree foliage is provided primarily by planted non-native species, but here and there, and increasingly as one travels southward, native bigleaf maples (photos) give us the golden arboreal hues we associate with this season. The winged seed pods (samaras) are nearly mature and will soon disperse in the wind.
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 31, 2009: In a lowland forest, a six-month-old male black-tailed deer feeds on leaves and leafy branch tips brought to the ground during a windstorm. Nearby, another male, 1.5 years old with "spike" antlers, also takes advantage of the sudden increase in available food resources.
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, 2015: Crows feed opportunistically on black walnuts that have been run over and broken open by passing vehicles near a planted yard tree in Port Townsend. In an adjacent yard, several crows ignore the walnuts and instead focus on a lawn, where they feed on something exposed as the birds toss leaves aside and tug out and pry into tufts of grass.
October 30, 2014: A varied thrush uses its bill to toss aside red alder leaves and clumps of moss along a forest path. The thrush's foraging method yielded numerous small worms that were quickly grabbed and swallowed. Often it seems that stormy autumn weather in the mountains is followed by waves of varied thrushes in this lowland forest on the Olympic Peninsula. See January 30 and November 9 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
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.
October 30, 2008, 4:00 pm: These are some of a flock of 80 crows foraging on a Salish Sea shore at low tide. They pull and toss aside algae to reveal choice food items, including crustaceans, mollusks, worms, and small fishes.
October 30, 2016, 3:30 pm: Near the Salish Sea shore of 2008, crows feed on the abundant crop of Pacific madrone fruits.
October 29, 2020: Crows tussle over a prime foraging spot on a Salish Sea shore. One flies in and tries to displace the other, which jumps up in defense. The two lunge at each other, peck, and attempt to grab/claw with the feet. One crow soon withdraws, and they each resume foraging. The altercation happens fast, so my photo documentation is a bit sketchy.
dead and dying adult yellowjackets at the bottom of the excavated nest chamber
October 29, 2008: An active yellowjacket nest that I've been monitoring in a lowland forest clearing was dug up by one or more raccoons that showed up last night. Today, in the bottom of the hole (7-8 inches deep), are a dozen dead and dying adult yellowjackets and small bits of nest paper. The bulk of the nest and whatever larvae it may have contained are nowhere to be found. Update: October 30, 2008: A raccoon has its snout in the nest excavation, while three others take sunflower seeds from a nearby bird feeder.
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 28, 2013: Black-bellied plovers (Pluvialis squatarola) have relatively large eyes that give them exceptional visual sensitivity and facilitate foraging in darkness. The eyes of Pluvialis plovers are in fact much larger than they look in photos of live birds. They fill most of the skull volume and nearly meet along the midline. The front and upper margins of the orbit have pronounced winglike extensions that help anchor the big eyes in the skull (sandpipers have relatively smaller eyes and lack these extensions). Pluvialis skull image modified from skullsite.com.
October 28, 2007: An American robin gobbles Pacific madrone fruits in lowlands on the eastern Olympic Peninsula. Non-native fruits often dominate the autumn diet, so it's pleasing to see this robin and others feasting on a native food resource. See October 24, 2015, below, and October 27, November 13, and December 1 & 19 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 27, 2010: A merlin makes a quick visit to Point Hudson in Port Townsend, and I manage a few blurry snapshots before it departs. Merlins are small falcons that prey on birds. They migrate through and winter in the region, and small numbers nest locally.
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 27, 2009: By late October, many gadwalls have formed pair bonds that will last through next spring's breeding season. The pair swims, roosts, and feeds together, often "tipping up" to reach submerged vegetation or seeds. The male is the one with the black rump and undertail coverts. The strange name "gadwall," in use since the 1600s, may refer to the toothlike edge of the bill (the Anglo-Saxon "gad" means "point"), though this feature is not unique to gadwalls. See also May 2, 2009, below.
October 26, 2024: Noon, 55°F: On a damp day in a lowland forest opening, I discover a Pacific treefrog under a piece of wood on the ground next to a stack of firewood. The frog—much darker than those seen out in the open on summer days, and darker than it appears in this flash photo—hops to the wood pile, pauses for a moment (photo op!), then squeezes into a crevice. Pacific treefrogs can gradually change their skin color (chroma, hue, and lightness). Color change plays a role in camouflage, thermoregulation, and water balance.
Fifty feet away, another treefrog calls repeatedly from among dense sword ferns on the forest floor. In this upland forest, scattered within 200 feet of the woodpile, I've heard 1-3 treefrogs calling almost everyday for at least the past several weeks. Calling frogs are widely spaced and never very close to each other.
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.
October 26, 2011: Mixed flocks of black turnstones and surfbirds have been a common sight along Salish Sea shores since summer. The flashing flights and noisy exuberance of these birds delight coastal naturalists throughout fall and winter.
October 26, 2010: Coastal willow (Salix hookeriana) adds to the autumn aura along a lowland pond edge on the Olympic Peninsula. Next year's buds, each covered by a single scale (as in all willows), nestle in the leaf axils. At the same site, some willows began to develop yellow foliage back in August (photo below), presumably a response to summer drought.
August 11, 2010
October 26, 2009: "When the wind is blowing, the table is set." My variant of an old saying applies well in the Salish Sea. Today, short-billed gulls (and Bonaparte's gulls, not shown) frequently drop down to roiling water behind the surf line to snatch small fishes and invertebrates (see October 21, 2014, below). See also October 26 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 26, 2007: Near Mount Townsend in the eastern Olympic Mountains, lodgepole pines are becoming established in subalpine meadows where there is no evidence of old weathered or burned wood. Some of the shrubby pines have produced cones. The pines most likely originated from seeds that blew in from patches of upright and semi-upright pines at somewhat lower elevations. Will this trend continue? Is it related to climate change? Or to changes in populations of herbivorous mammals?
October 26, 2007: Our hike to Mount Townsend on a chilly day encourages us to pause in open, sunny areas, where we find sprawling bearberry plants (only a few inches high) with red fruits. The fruit in the photo appears to have been pierced by a songbird bill, perhaps a thrush. We see a clump of bearberry next to one of the patches of needle ice (see following), but those plants have no fruits. Bearberry fruits persist a long time and provide food for frugivorous birds and mammals in winter and early spring when other food resources are limited.
October 26, 2007: Near Mount Townsend in the eastern Olympic Mountains, we encounter lots of needle ice on wet soils along the trail. The ice appears to represent two episodes of freezing, totaling about three inches of growth. As the air temperature drops below freezing, needle ice grows from the bottom (fed by soil water). The growing needles churn the soil and can break fine plant roots.
October 25, 2024: We’ve had too many mouse intruders lately, so last night I set two brand new rodent traps along the base of our little cabin in a small clearing in a lowland forest. A smear of peanut butter serves as bait. Today the traps make two captures. No, not mice, but banana slugs, feeding on the peanut butter! Nearby, unbaited traps attract nothing. This isn’t the first time I’ve found banana slugs on trap bait. Their keen sense of smell allows them to find all kinds of suitable sustenance, whether it be fungi, fallen flower petals, composted kitchen scraps, feces, or carrion. It’s impressive how quickly they discover and arrive at newly available food!
Update, October 26, 2024: I arrive just in time as a banana slug is about to spring one of the traps, which still has some peanut butter remains from yesterday (photo below) I move the slug far away to our compost heap, where I find another banana slug grazing an old chunk of raw cauliflower (second photo below).
October 25, 2015: In fall and winter, the thick leaves of yellow sand verbena —usually bright green— may surprise us by adding splotches of purple to upper sand beaches and dunes. The color change results from the production of anthocyanin pigments (see January 18 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
October 25, 2007: Upper: A road-killed paddle-tailed darner (very late in the species' flight season) gives us a chance to take a close look at some otherwise hard-to-see anatomy. Middle: We zoom in on the rear end of the male darner to view the paired, paddlelike, spine-tipped superior (upper) appendages (cerci) and the single inferior (lower) appendage (epiproct). The males clasps the female with his two cerci on the sides of her “neck” and the epiproct held firmly against the top of her head. During the clasping process, the male's epiproct sometimes damages the female's eyes. Lower: The darner's face has small bristles that presumably serve a sensory function during flight and prey capture..
October 24, 2018: A delightful diversity of dabbling and diving ducks decorate the Kah Tai Lagoon. In addition to the lesser scaups, ruddy ducks, and hooded mergansers shown in the photos, the several hundred ducks here today include American wigeon, mallard, northern pintail, gadwall, northern shoveler, and bufflehead.
October 24, 2015: A greater yellowlegs "sitting down" is not something we see very often here at the Kah Tai Lagoon. No doubt its stomach is replete with threespine sticklebacks (see October 4, 2018, August 12, 2018, and July 25, 2021, below).
October 24, 2015: The abundant, long-lasting fruits of non-native common (English ) hawthorn never fail to attract American robins (see October 27 and December 1 & 19 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest. Robins readily swallow several whole fruits in rapid succession. Seed dispersal by robins has enabled common hawthorn (a noxious weed) to spread into fields and wooded areas throughout much of the Pacific Northwest.
October 23, 2017: Chicory is a common roadside weed throughout the Pacific Northwest, where the attractive blooms (sometime white) appear by early summer and can be seen well into autumn. Native to the Mediterranean region, chicory thrives in disturbed habitats and tends not to invade natural areas. Pollinators include bees, hover flies, and butterflies. Wild and cultivated chicory leaves and roots have a long and diverse history of use as food and beverage sources for humans.
October 23, 2017: A Douglas squirrel charges a Steller's jay that audaciously ingests sunflower seeds under a bird feeder that the squirrel has claimed as it own food resource. The squirrel successfully displaces the jay for now, but over the next several days the jay (and an accomplice) return to the feeder periodically when the squirrel is not present. At this lowland forest site on the Olympic Peninsula, jays tend to be scarce all summer and show up unpredictably in other seasons, but in similar sites within 10 miles they are year-round nesting residents.
October 23, 2012: Today I become acquainted with a particular female glaucous-winged gull (likely a glaucous-winged/western gull hybrid). I'm sure I've seen her before, but today I take the time to recognize her as an individual, based on unique scars on her toe webbing. As long as I can see her feet, I know it's her. We have an on- and-off relationship for the next four years. Our afternoon trysts are always at the same place along the Salish Sea shore. Sometimes we share the same picnic table. Usually I eat lunch and she quietly relaxes. You might think that I feed her, but I never share. She's different than other gulls, who always seem to want something from me. Over the years, I sometimes see her with a juvenile, and on occasion she consorts with a larger gull, clearly her mate (he tolerates me but usually stays away). Update, September 29, 2016: Our last "lunch date." I never see her again. She flies off with her mate and a single juvenile, who seems to be hungry. Fare thee well!
October 22, 2020: During most of the year (except mid-May to early July), rocky shores along the Pacific Northwest coast host noisy mixed flocks of black turnstones and surfbirds. Both species frequent natural shores as well as jetties and riprap, particularly barnacle-encrusted rocks. Black turnstones sometimes forage on sand beaches or mud. At this Salish Sea site, the mixed flocks sometimes include up to a few hundred birds (mostly turnstones).
October 22, 2020: Today, as is often the case, single or small flocks of black-bellied plovers roost on the rocks near the turnstones and surfbirds. The plovers are numerous during spring and fall migration, common in winter, and rare or absent in late spring and early summer.
October 22, 2015: Band-tailed pigeons descend on fruiting Pacific madrone trees along a northeastern Olympic Peninsula lowland forest edge. Fruits and (in southern parts of the Pacific Northwest) acorns are important foods at this time of year.
October 21, 2023: 9:38 pm, air temperature 51°F: In a light rain, an autumnal moth flies in and lands outside our lighted window in a lowland forest near Port Townsend. At this site, the flight season peaks in October-November, but I've also seen one in early January. Mating is an autumnal event. Update, October 29, 2023: 8:58 pm., 41°F: Five autumnal moths have arrived outside the same lighted window. They readily take flight despite the cold. In spring and early summer, the caterpillars of this moth feed on the foliage of a wide range of deciduous and coniferous trees and shrubs. At this site, red alder may be the primary larval host.
October 21, 2016: A male northern shoveler paddles past a greater yellowlegs (upper left) and marbled godwit (upper right) at the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. The yellowlegs and shoveler are regulars here, but this is the only godwit that has ever been recorded at this site. It was here for at least a month (see September 29 and October 30 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). In the Pacific Northwest, marbled godwits are most often seen in estuaries along the outer coast during spring and fall migration and locally in winter (see April 26 in A Naturalist's Year...).
short-billed gull nonbreeding adult (left) and immature
Bonaparte's gull nonbreeding adult
Bonaparte's gull immature
October 21, 2014: Short-billed gulls and Bonaparte's gulls float and fly behind wind-driven surf on the Salish Sea. The opportunistic gulls pick off small bottom-dwelling invertebrates brought to the surface by the breaking waves. Both species are nonbreeding visitors to the Salish Sea, common during spring and fall migration and in winter, rare in summer when they are farther north on their breeding grounds.
October 21, 2014: A young male black-tailed deer beds down to ruminate. As I watch, lumps of food periodically move up and down his throat as he rechews and reswallows vegetation that has been regurgitated from his rumen (the first part of the stomach, where bacteria and enzymes break down the fibrous material).
October 21, 2007: Upper: It's a good day to harvest Pacific golden chanterelles (Cantharellus formosus) in the Olympic Mountains foothills. This choice edible mushroom appears mostly in late summer, fall, and early winter, often with a peak in October. It forms mycorrhizae on the roots of Douglas-fir and western hemlock, benefiting both the fungus and the tree. Lower: As we look for chanterelles, we discover a toothed jelly fungus (Pseudohydnum gelatinosum) on rotting conifer wood. Though not apparent in this photo, toothlike spines cover the underside of the cap. Toothed jellies show up mainly in fall and winter. This is an edible mushroom, but I decide to stick with the chanterelles and leave the toothed jelly behind.
October 20, 2020: Red squirrels have four clawed toes on each front foot and five on the rear. The sharp claws clearly aid the squirrels in moving rapidly along vertical tree trunks and when leaping among branches. Yet I've noticed that red (and Douglas) squirrels often do not engage the claws when they settle on horizontal or steeply sloping branches. The fleshy pads on the feet are quite "grippy" and allow a firm hold independent of the claws. Photo: red squirrel, Methow Valley near Mazama.
October 20, 2018: On a cool, sunny afternoon, an autumn meadowhawk basks on a pond-side trail. In the Paccific Northwest, the flight season of this well-named dragonfly extends into November (rarely into the first days of December).
October 20, 2018: Red-osier dogwood decorates a lowland forest-edge with vibrant deciduous foliage and pearly white fruits (see October 8 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 20, 2017: In a lowland forest on the Olympic Peninsula, an adult female black-tailed deer munches red elderberry foliage plucked from a branch above her head. A minute later, she begins feeding on red alder leaves that fell to the ground during a recent wind storm. Her offspring from this year forages nearby, following mom's example (consuming fallen foliage of red elderberry and red alder).
October 20, 2015: A male American wigeon cruises the glassy waters of the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. He is still molting and has not yet attained his full breeding plumage, which will feature more white on the forehead and more green behind the eye. He is one of hundreds of wigeons now on lagoon waters.
In freshwater lakes, ponds, and wetlands around much of the Pacific Northwest, the American wigeon might be viewed as the iconic duck of autumn, usually far outnumbering other common species such as mallard, gadwall, and northern shoveler. At the Kah Tai Lagoon, American wigeons occur in low numbers during May-August, at which time most are on the breeding grounds, mainly north and east of Washington. By September, flocks of hundreds of wigeons arrive at the lagoon, and in October wigeon numbers sometimes exceed 1,000 (rarely 2,000). November counts often are in the low hundreds. In winter, the lagoon occasionally hosts hundreds of wigeons but dozens or fewer are more typical. During spring migration, wigeon numbers are far less than during fall, with counts seldom exceeding 25.
October 19, 2024: A peek under the kitchen sink this morning reveals a juvenile deermouse (6 grams) with a foot caught in a rodent trap. The little mouse is minimally injured, so I transport it a mile away and release it along a forest trail. Tonight I see two more small juveniles under the sink and capture an adult female, likely their mother (her teats indicate that she has recently nursed young). She's one of the long-tailed deermice (210 mm total length, 110 mm tail length) and weighs a hefty 24 grams (see March 23 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
October 19, 2024: In a lowland forest near the Salish Sea, a rainy windstorm yesterday and today brought down many dead and some living branches. of red alder and Douglas-fir. The photo shows some of the profuse lichen growth on two dead branches of a 40-50-year-old red alder. The winds also detached lots of dead needles of Douglas-fir.
October 19, 2024: Upper: Bristly prickles densely cover the stems of baldhip rose. Though flexible, they are sharp enough to discourage humans from touching the plant. Middle: Deer, however, deer readily munch the branch tips and eat the foliage. Lower: Baldhip rose fruits often stay attached to the plants through winter.
October 18, 2015: Nootka rose fruits ("hips") look quite appealing right now. Despite being highly nutritious and palatable to mammals, birds, and insects, many remain on the plants through winter and into early spring (see March 14, 2024, below). Seemingly, much seed dispersal of Nootka and baldhip roses depends on animals that harvest the fruits after other food resources have become scarce. The long-lived seeds of Nootka rose can remain viable in the soil for years.
October 18, 2015: Autumn color change in the leaves of an Oregon white oak sapling yields a variegated pattern as some pigments break down and others are revealed or produced. Leaf colors depend on which pigments are present: chlorophyll (green), carotenoids (yellow, orange), anthocyanin (red, purple), tannin (brown). Other shades result from combinations of pigments. Often, the leaves turn plain brown without any vibrant color. As with other deciduous plants, many of the reusable molecules in the leaves move into the perennial parts of the plant before the leaves fall.
October 18, 2014: Gumweed continues to provide important nectar and pollen resources for leafcutter bees in lowlands around the Salish Sea. This female's days are numbered, but her offspring will overwinter in the nest as fully fed larvae. Early next spring, the larvae will pupate, and the adults will emerge several weeks later. See also October 3, 2024, September 4, 2018, and August 19, 2021, below.
October 18, 2018: Along a Salish Sea shore, a great blue heron's feet and legs sometimes get tangled in eelgrass as it stalks fish. At one point, it stops fishing and uses it bill to free itself. But even when encumbered by eelgrass, the heron successfully captures and eats several shiner perches. Once it nabs two perches with one strike. The lively perches briefly resist going down the heron's throat, then wiggle down toward the stomach. I can follow their progress as the heron's long neck flutters with the passing fish.
October 18, 2007: In late summer and early fall, profuse growth of filamentous green algae in the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend sometimes gets tangled on the feet of great blue herons as they forage in the shallow water. The lagoon appears to be impacted by excessive nutrients. This is likely a result of effective elimination of tidal flow when the mouth of the lagoon was filled decades ago, combined with inputs from intense development that surrounds the lagoon today. Deborah B. Jahnke (The Leader, December 3, 2021) nicely summed up the lagoon's history in one sentence: "In 1963, the Army Corps of Engineers dredged 231,000 cubic yards of nearshore sand to expand the Port Townsend Boat Haven and dumped it into what had been a beautiful, tidally flushed estuary called Kah Tai (qatáy) Lagoon."
October 17, 2015: A surfbird in nonbreeding plumage moves among parches of barnacles—an important food resource on this Salish Sea coast. Nonbreeding surfbirds are readily found over a huge (but narrow) coastal area extending from southern Alaska to southern Chile. In contrast, relatively few people have seen surfbirds on their scattered nesting grounds in rocky alpine tundra in interior Alaska and Yukon Territory. Scientists found the first nests not until the 1920s, though some Indigenous people in Alaska were familiar with the nesting grounds before that.
October 17, 2015: In October, the changing colors and falling leaves of deciduous trees and shrubs signify the closing of a season. But not all is about endings. For instance, hazelnuts (photo) and alders have already produced large catkins that will release pollen next year. And a close look at other woody plants will reveal numerous now-dormant buds that will yield new leaves and flowers next spring.
October 17, 2011: I don't want to shock you, but this is a geological natural history item, of which there are few on this web page! Anyway, ridge hikers in the Olympic Mountains will be familiar with the rocks shown here, which originated as layers of sedimentary rocks on an ancient sea floor. Under intense pressure and subject to strong folding, sedimentary shales metamorphosed into layers of slate, which over time were pushed upward to form the splintered rocks that are so common today in the Olympic Mountains high country, It can be a bristly terrain not too welcoming to inflatable sleeping pads!
October 17, 2008: A prodigious crop of mushrooms has become an important food resource for banana slugs in a lowland forest (see also September 29, 2024, below, and October3 and November 3 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). In many forests, close examination of large mushrooms often yields evidence of slug grazing or rodent nibbling. Mushrooms that suddenly "disappear" from one day to the next may have been eaten by deer or taken by squirrels (see October 4 & 31 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
October 16, 2018: In the foothills of the North Cascades in Washington, many Douglas maples have lost all their leaves but still hold many samaras (winged seed-bearing structures). Strong winds or shaken branches cause many samaras to detach and helicopter to the ground. Today, chipmunks feed on the seeds from samaras that have fallen, and sometimes they climb into the shrubby maples to take and eat samaras directly from the branches.
October 16, 2018: In the North Cascades, an adult female black bear and her youngster move between blueberry patches, pausing to feed when they find a concentration of berries. As the mother bear moves along, she walks right over stiff but flexible shrubby conifers such that the stem and branches pass between her legs and along her underside. Some of them are several feet tall and spring up behind her when she continues forward. At first I think she is simply oblivious to the plants, but she does this several times in succession, often eschewing a clear path, veering toward isolated conifers, and walking right over them. I have to smile...looks like a good way to get your belly massaged, scratched, and groomed all at once!
October 16, 2007: These are among my first photos of great blue herons feeding on threespine sticklebacks at the Kah Tai Lagoon. Today, October 16, 2024, herons here continue to depend on these little fishes as a primary food resource. Bigger fishes are available along the Salish Sea shore, less than a quarter mile away.
October 15, 2018: A mid-October backpacking trip near Copper Mountain in the North Cascades of Washington provides a colorful visual feast of anthocyanins in subalpine blueberry foliage. See also September 12, 2009, below.
October 15, 2015: A male northern shoveler is undergoing a molt that will result in his full breeding plumage by the Winter Solstice. He replaced his flight feathers and experienced a period of flightlessness before migrating to this pond (Kah Tai Lagoon) near the Salish Sea. Northern shovelers can be seen in the region throughout the year, with the smallest numbers in summer. This pond sometimes hosts up to about 200 shovelers.
October 15, 2015: Non-native sea-rocket flowers attract an array of native and non-native insects over a long season that extends from early spring to early winter. Non-native honey bees, as shown here, are among the common visitors in early autumn. See September 20, 2019, and July 5, 2017, below, and June 24, October 20, November 15, and December 14 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 15, 2013: Looking somewhat like a maple, devil's club adds a splash of autumn color to the forest understory in the eastern Olympic Mountains. See also August 10, 2006, and May 21, 2014, below.
October 15, 2013: At this time of year, it's hard to do justice to the amazing diversity of mushrooms we see in the Pacific Northwest. Experts believe that the region hosts more than 5,000 species (probably a lot more than that). The vibrant mushroom shown here, known as violet webcap or violet cort, on the mossy forest floor near the Big Quilcene River (eastern Olympic Mountains), certainly stands out from the vast numbers of brown or whitish mushrooms. Violet webcap forms mutually beneficial mycorrhizal connections with conifers throughout most of the region, especially in older forests. The color can be extracted by soaking the mushroom in water, but it soon disappoints by turning dark gray. The mushroom's odor, if any, is pleasantly fragrant.
October 14, 2014: I spend a little time this afternoon counting fish captures by a great blue heron at the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. During 15 minutes of observation, the heron plucks out of the shallow water and swallows 112 threespine sticklebacks, averaging 7-8 captures per minute, with very few misses. Sometimes it makes a dozen or more successful strikes in succession. The heron shakes the water off the fish (and discards any bits of vegetation) before swallowing,
October 13, 2013, 2014, & 2024: Over the past few weeks in lowlands around the Salish Sea, male black-tailed deer have attained prime condition. It sometimes seems as if bucks suddenly are everywhere, conspicuously following or standing around gawking at females, which are not quite ready for their sexual advances. The most impressive males, with their big, dark-stained antlers and thick neck, scarcely resemble what they looked like in early summer. They easily dominate slim-necked males with small antlers and maintain a position closest to the female. Most of the time, the males basically ignore each other and focus on the female.
October 13, 2017: After rains last night and this morning, many rough-skinned newts are on the move today, crossing roads near breeding ponds. Air temperature around 49°F.
October 13, 2008: Upper and middle: On a rainy afternoon. a young male elk reaches high to reach red alder leaves along the Hoh River in Olympic National Park. He is part of a group of several males still not powerful enough to gain access to females during the ongoing reproductive period. Bottom: Another male in the group grazes grassy vegetation.
October 13, 2008: A mossy, rotting trunk section of a cut fallen tree serves as an effective "nurse log" for young Sitka spruce and western hemlock along the Hoh River in Olympic National Park. See October 4, 2010, below, for an example of what this might look like—on a grander scale—decades from now.
October 12, 2024: A common raven has its eye on the ground where I occasionally deposit roadkills and indoor mouse-trap kills (in front of my trail camera). One or two ravens check this spot almost every day even though weeks may go by between my deposits of carcasses. When a single raven visits, it often vocalizes loudly when a carcass is available but tends to be quiet if it finds no food. Often, when no carcass is present, a raven that is perched above the trail camera vocalizes loudly several times if it sees me standing or walking nearby. Is it trying to tell me something? See May 8, 9, 11, & 29, 2024, and August 20, 2024, below. Digital painting from original fuzzy photo.
October 12, 2024, 9:20 am: In a lowland forest, a Douglas squirrel cuts cones from a Douglas-fir tree and lets them drop. With a loud thunk, some hit the roof of the cabin where I am working. I step outside and manage to get a poor snapshot of the squirrel at work. The three cones in the middle photo were among the many that the squirrel cut and dropped within the last few minutes. On the cone at far left, the wings of two seeds are partially visible between the cone scales. The winged seed in the bottom photo, plus a few others, helicoptered to the ground as the squirrel moved around in the treetop. The squirrel continued cutting cones for at least 30 minutes—better cut them now before any more seeds disperse!
Update, October 13, 2024: Today, the squirrel collected many of the cut cones and transported some of them to a location I could not determine. On a perch 22 feet from the tree trunk, it descaled and ate the seeds from 12 cones (photo below, with the cone cores removed from the midden and lined up by me for the photo). A few feet away, the squirrel ate the seeds from an additional cone. Because the cone remains (middens) were on the deck of my office cabin, I know they weren't there yesterday. So now I know that a squirrel will eat the seeds from at least 13 cones in a single day with mild weather. That speaks to how important it is for them to harvest and store thousands of cones to get them through the coming several months of chilly weather.
Update, October 15, 2024: The deck midden has grown, and in a quick look around the tree I discover several additional places where the squirrel ate the seeds from one or more cones. So I can add at least 19 more descaled cones to the ones found under the same trees on October 13. Clearly the squirrel is making significant immediate use of the cones it cut on October 12.
October 11, 2012: Along a Salish Sea shore, an adult glaucous-winged gull shows its enormous gape in a big yawn. Not surprisingly, gulls commonly ingest large seastars and fish whole. In contrast, they tend to dismantle and pick apart large crabs. The gull's "dirty" looking head is part of its nonbreeding plumage; the head was pure white during the breeding season.
October 11, 2008: In Olympic National Park, a lone bull elk crosses the Hoh River and climbs onto the grassy bench where we're preparing dinner by our campfire. He seems to agree that it's a great view of the river and begins peacefully grazing as we cautiously stand behind some trees. Our food is getting cold, and we wonder how we will get into our tent. We mention that there's a cougar in the area, but he's not impressed. Eventually, as darkness sets in, our companion gives us a farewell stare and wanders off. The elk breeding season is still underway, so presumably this haremless male has been excluded from breeding by larger, more dominant males (usually 7-10 years old). We're happy he doesn't take it out on us. See also October 11 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 11, 2008: Cougar track along the Hoh River trail.
October 10, 2024: Numerous cross jellies ("jellyfish") swim near the surface in Admiralty Inlet (Salish Sea). These are the medusa stage of a hydrozoan, a group related to but separate from the true jellies (scyphozoans). They originate on stalked polyps that attach to solid objects. Cross jelly medusae have hundreds of slender extensile tentacles attached singly to the edge of the bell. The prominent "cross" is formed by the gonads and branches of the gut (medusae shed eggs or sperm into the water). In the Salish sea, cross jelly medusae first appear in spring and become scarce by November. They reach a maximum diameter of about 3.5 inches and feed on tiny zooplankton. The range extends from Alaska to California. See also September 3 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 10, 2014. A male green-winged teal rests on a pond-edge log at the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. Check your field guide and you'll find no bird with this set of plumage details. That's because he's undergoing the so-called prealternate molt, which in a few weeks will result in the full breeding plumage, a stunning feather coat worn through next midsummer. It might seem odd that teal (and other ducks) attain their breeding plumage so far in advance of next year's breeding season, but courtship begins in autumn and many birds pair up before or during winter. See also September 27, 2024, below, and October 10 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 9, 2018: Several greater yellowlegs remain at the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend, feasting on the abundant threespine stickleback population, as they have been doing since early summer. They seem to fill their bellies with all they want in short order. The main thing that slows them down is how long it takes to swallow some of the larger sticklebacks.
A great blue heron—the yellowlegs' usual fishing companion—is here, too, also eating sticklebacks. It gulps them down quickly, but it takes a lot more of the little fish to fill the heron's capacious stomach.
October 9, 2014: This juvenile cedar waxwing is part of a mixed flock of young and adult waxwings feeding on midges caught in flight or plucked from lowland riparian foliage on the Olympic Peninsula. At this time of year, waxwings readily switch their diet to small fruits when insects are not readily available.
If they survive the winter, the juveniles in this flock will begin breeding next year. Maximum longevity is about 7 years.
October 8, 2017: A young Pacific treefrog forages in a clearing in a lowland forest, far from any pond or wetland. Treefrogs have been calling here every day lately, with air temperatures in the 50s and low 60s°F, but the vocalizing frogs stay hidden in sword ferns or thick shrubbery. See October 8 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 8, 2017 (upper), October 11, 2018 (lower): Adult black-bellied plovers in nonbreeding plumage roost on a Salish Sea shore. Their favored foraging areas are submerged right now, but soon they and other plovers roosting nearby will spread out over exposed tidal flats in search of polychaete worms and other delicacies. Sometimes they wade in shallow water and pick small food items from the water.
The plovers migrated to the Salish Sea probably from a coastal-tundra nesting area in Alaska, but did they arrive with the plovers we saw here in July, or are they among the later migrants that are now just arriving? Will they stay through the winter? Did they stop here last year? Black-bellied plovers are common around the Salish Sea in winter, but some migrate as far as South America.
Juvenile black-bellied plovers (hatched this year) are recognizably different from the adults. The juvenile shown below, photographed on September 21, 2010, in the same general location as the adults, is on its first migration and has flown at least 1,600 miles from where it hatched back in June or July.
October 8, 2016: These handsome shorebirds are part of a flock of 12 juvenile long-billed dowitchers foraging in pond shallows at the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. Most of the time they probe deeply in the muddy bottom, but now and then they stand tall and reveal the long bill. Digital painting from original photo.
October 8, 2016: A pileated woodpecker excavates wood from a very decayed red alder snag. It pecks and pries the soft wood, then grasps loosened pieces with its bill and tosses them aside. When two loudly croaking great blue herons fly closely overhead, the woodpecker makes no obvious response and simply continues its excavations. The big bird's focused efforts this afternoon yield a meal of several large beetle larvae. See also September 25 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 8, 2008: Ever alert to danger, an eastern cottontail cautiously emerges from a lowland forest-edge thicket to forage in a weedy clearing on the eastern Olympic Peninsula. At this site, cottontail predators include coyotes, bobcats, barred owls, and Cooper's hawks.
Non-native eastern cottontails were first introduced in Washington in the 1920s. Today they occur in disturbed lowlands around the Salish Sea, in scattered areas in central and eastern Washington, and in Oregon and southern British Columbia. Populations seem to fluctuate from year to year in the areas I frequent in the northeastern Olympic Peninsula, which isn't surprising given the species' impressive reproductive capacity. An average adult female produces multiple litters totaling 2-3 dozen offspring in a single year, and some juveniles produce one or two litters in the same breeding season in which they were born. Eastern cottontails do literally "breed like rabbits!"
A similar native species, Nuttall's cottontail, is widespread east of the Cascades in Washington and Oregon, and occurs also in the southern Okanagan-Similkameen valleys of British Columbia. Several additional members of the rabbit/hare family inhabit the Pacific Northwest.
October 7, 2010: A yellow-spotted millipede saunters along the forest floor near the Sol Duc River in Olympic National Park. Its 60 legs (30 pairs on each side) are wonderfully coordinated. When I interrupt its journey with a finger poke, the millipede curls up on its side and hides its head within a multitude of legs. Simultaneously it displays its warning colors, expels noxious fluids from repugnatorial glands on the sides of the body, and releases a fecal pellet. See also April 24 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 7, 2008: A Douglas squirrel has been cutting many clusters of red alder seed cones in a lowland forest on the Quimper Peninsula. Not coincidently, Douglas-fir trees here produced very few cones this year. See September 15 and October 30 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 6, 2016: Canada geese frequently graze on land, but—like dabbling ducks—they also "tip up" to reach submerged food. These three often, but not always, tipped up more or less in unison. They paddle their webbed feet to maintain the head-down position.
October 6, 2014: In Port Townsend, the busy tourist season is over, but if you want to dine out and have a good crab dinner you still need a reservation.
October 6, 2010: Common witch's hair lichen grows abundantly on old conifer trees near Appleton Pass in Olympic National Park. Various birds use this lichen for nest construction. Deer and remnant populations of Pacific Northwest caribou feed on witch's hair when it is within reach on low branches or when blown to the ground.
October 5, 2016: As the black-tailed deer mating season approaches, males are rubbing their fully grown antlers and pungent facial glands on small trees, creating visual and scent marks that attract the attention and affect the behavior of other deer (male and female). Countless hours of watching the behavior of deer from a blind and in trail-camera videos have impressed on me how much deer use not only their excellent vision and hearing but also their sense of smell. As they move through the landscape and conduct their everyday activities, deer frequently sniff the air, ground, and vegetation. They pay attention not only to the odors of other deer but also coyotes, raccoons, and other mammals. If a coyote urinated in a certain spot, the next deer that pass that way are sure to pause and sniff it. They usually appear unalarmed, just cautious.
October 5, 2016: I picked up this northwestern gartersnakes as it basked on a trail in Port Townsend. Early autumn often brings an increase in sightings of gartersnakes, as cooler temperatures cause the snakes to seek open areas with good sun exposure. Warming the body enhances the snake's physiological functions and ability to capture prey and evade predators. But when the snakes warm themselves on sunny roads, they don't have the instinct or speed to evade the tires of fast-moving vehicles (especially when certain sadistic individuals try to run over them).
Mild temperatures and moist conditions at this time of year bring out slugs, snails, worms, frogs, and other gartersnake prey, which they detect through vision and chemosensory searching that involves the tongue (see March 28 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
October 5, 2012: In mid-afternoon, I detain a Trowbridge's shrew as it runs along a forest trail near the West Fork Dosewallips River in the eastern Olympic Mountains. In hand, the shrew squeaks, then bites relentlessly, almost hard enough to draw blood. I snap this photo and send the feisty little mammal on its way. See also October 2, 2019, below.
October 5, 2012: As we explore the south side of Mount Anderson, in the area recently occupied by Anderson Glacier (Olympic Mountains), we're surprised to see a snowberry checkerspot in flight. I get a nice photo op when it lands to bask in the late morning sun. The usual peak flight season is July-August, but the life cycle may be tardy this year because of the late snowmelt. The wildflower is giant red paintbrush, which at this site may be the checkerspot's larval food source. See July 30 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 5, 2010: Upper: On the High Divide (Olympic National Park), at a higher elevation than the Douglas-fir mentioned below), mountain hemlock cones have accumulated beneath a tree. Were they cut but not collected/stored by a Douglas squirrel, or did they detach in strong winds after maturing on the tree? Douglas squirrels do commonly eat mountain hemlock seeds, but none of the cones in this location showed evidence of squirrel feeding. At center, a lone mountain hemlock seedling emerges from the cone pile.
Middle: For reference, here's what mountain hemlock cones look like when newly mature but still tightly closed (Skyline Trail, Olympic National Park, September 19, 2011).
Lower: And here are last year's cones after they have dried, opened, and released their seeds, but remain attached to the tree (Skyline Trail, September 11, 2020)
October 5, 2010: A portion of the hundreds of Douglas-fir cones that a Douglas-squirrel cut from a single tree in the Sol Duc River drainage in Olympic National Park. Eventually the squirrel will collect the cones and store them for later use. Usually a few are eaten in place on the ground to meet the squirrel's immediate needs.
October 4-5, 2012: In subalpine portions of La Crosse Basin and near Mount Anderson in the Olympic Mountains, swarms of Cascades frog larvae cram into sun-warmed shallows of small ponds. Warmer water temperatures speed their development, which is essential if they are to complete metamorphosis before freezing temperatures set in.
October 4, 2024: Grooming is an important activity for most mammals. Here an adult female black-tailed deer grooms her five-month-old offspring just outside my office window. Her lingual attention extends to the youngster's head, neck, and torso, with special attention to the genital and anal areas. Eventually the two deer resumed feeding on recently fallen leaves of red alder. in the forest opening near Port Townsend.
October 4, 2018: Greater yellowlegs remain devoted to their favorite fishing hole at the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. As usual, threespine stickleback is the only item on the menu.
October 4, 2017: Dome spiders and their webs are still abundant in trees and shrubs in a lowland forest. Look for the females hanging upside down under the top of their dome. Dome spiders overwinter in the egg stage. Adults die off with the onset of freezing weather. See September 2 & 20 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 4, 2013: These small fossil clams, weathering out of concrete-like siltstone along the edge of Sucia Island (San Juan Islands), still look pretty good after 75 million years. See also October 4 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 4, 2013: On Clements Reef, at the northern edge of the San Juan Islands, harbor seals use their front flippers to ward off other seals that intrude too much on their personal space.
October 4, 2012: Near Anderson Pass (Olympic Mountains), Sitka mountain-ash foliage and fruits offer a fall flourish of changing color (compare September 29, 2008, below).
October 4, 2012: In the upper Quinault River drainage (Olympic Mountains), all the fresh and older black bear scat we see is packed with grassy/sedgy material, with no evidence of blueberries (compare September 25, 2007, below).
October 4, 2010: So many times we've walked by this line of western hemlocks that became established on a "nurse log" (now long-since decayed) in the temperate rainforest along the Hoh River in Olympic National Park—and it never fails to impress! After germinating from wind-blown winged seeds many decades ago, the young hemlocks found a favorable environment as their roots gradually grew down through and around the log and into the soil (see August 25 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
October 3, 2024: On a cool, afternoon, I brake my bike as a striped meadowhawk basks on the sun-warmed Olympic Discovery Trail. If mild weather continues, we may see striped meadowhawks in flight into early November. The closest water or wetland is 0.36 miles away, so this dragonfly has roamed away from its larval habitat. Striped meadowhawks often deposit their eggs in seasonally flooded meadows near ponds or lakes. It's odd to see females (usually with a male in tandem) flicking eggs down onto grassy areas lacking water.
October 3, 2024: On the Quimper Peninsula near Port Townsend, leafcutter bees are still cutting leaves for their nests. On this cool day, a bee lands and basks for a minute before flying off to its nest. See September 4 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 3, 2016: Cascara fruits ripen on a rocky foothill slope in the eastern Olympic Mountains. This large shrub or small tree is widespread (but not abundant) in moist soils across much of the forested Pacific Northwest. Bears, foxes, raccoons, thrushes, woodpeckers, band-tailed pigeons, grouse, and other mammals and birds eat the fruits and disperse the seeds in their droppings.
October 3, 2012: After dark, we explore the margin of Hart Lake in the upper Duckabush River drainage, Olympic Mountains. We're excited to find a beautiful adult long-toed salamander resting on the bottom in shallow water (upper photo). But among the several adult Cascades frogs we see is one with a peculiarly humped or swollen back (lower photo). In the Olympics, we've seen these frogs with malformed limbs on multiple occasions, but never anything like this.
October 3, 2012: At Marmot Lake in the upper Duckabush River drainage, Olympic Mountains, Cascades frogs are in various stages of metamorphosis, from large larval types with small hind limbs to little frogs with four well developed limbs and a shrinking tail. Some have completely resorbed the tail.
October 3, 2012: Carpenter ants have been busy excavating new galleries for their colony in a conifer snag along the Duckabush River in the eastern Olympic Mountains, The fine brown "sawdust" on the ground and tree bark accumulates as the ants toss and drop wood particles one mouthful at a time. How long will it be before a pileated woodpecker decides it's time to peck into the snag and devour the ant colony? See December 25, April 13, and July 6 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 3, 2010: Upper: An adult Olympic torrent salamander moves through a gravelly pool along a steep, cold rivulet in the Upper Hoh River basin in Olympic National Park. These little salamanders often hide under rocks in the water and sometimes seclude themselves under nearby rocks on land. See also September 5, 2014, below.
Lower: In their shady natural habitat, torrent salamanders are hard to see when viewed from above, whereas their underside is vivid orange-yellow with distinct dark spots. When grasped, adults squirm and may thereby expose the brightly colored underside. Does this warn of toxicity? Does it mimic toxic rough-skinned newts? Predators of torrent salamanders are poorly known, but perhaps jays or other birds with good color vision might be among them.
October 2, 2019: I hand-capture a Trowbridge's shrew along the edge of a lowland Douglas-fir forest. Initially, when held by the scruff of the neck, it squirms and tries to bite, then calms down a bit when I hold its tail base and snap a few photos as it rests on my hand. The relative size of the ears, eyes, snout, and whiskers suggests something about how the little mammal perceives its world—vision clearly is of minimal importance. Trowbridge's shrew forages in tunnels beneath forest-floor duff and also sometimes climbs into woody vegetation. Its diet includes fungi, seeds, and invertebrates. See March 30, May 8, and September 5 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 2, 2016: A few steps from the darner shown below, I get a brief glimpse of a Virginia rail as it moves furtively through pond-edge bulrushes. Virginia rails nest here, and can be seen or heard throughout the year.
October 2, 2016: A female paddle-tailed darner (dragonfly) lays eggs on a partially submerged log at the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. It seems late in the year for egg laying, but the aquatic larval stage encompasses multiple years, so there's plenty of time to complete the life cycle. Paddle-tailed darners fly on suitably warm days through October and sometimes into November.
October 2, 2015: A harbor seal perches on a steep-sided rock along the margin of Jones Island (San Juan Islands). It hauled out there at high tide, when the water level was near the top of the rock. The seal can slide off at will but might not be able to climb up there at this tide level (the hind flippers are basically useless for terrestrial locomotion, and the front limbs are not all that effective either). Harbor seals can haul out on lower rocks and floating docks by using the webbed hind flippers to propel themselves forward, grabbing with the clawed front limbs, and full-body lurching. On land, plump adults often move by lurching without employing the front flippers. When possible, they use waves to get a lift onto a haul-out site.
October 2, 2015: Honey mushroom (Armillaria) rhizomorphs form intriguing patterns beneath the bark of a decaying log on the forest floor on Jones Island (San Juan Islands). Rhizomorphs conduct nutrients and serve to spread the fungus in the soil and along plant roots. The honey mushroom fungus is a parasite that attacks live (often stressed) trees, shrubs, and sometimes semi-woody herbaceous plants, commonly with lethal effect as white fungal mats girdle the roots and lower stem slowly over the years. Subsequently, the fungus can decompose the dead wood. In recent decades, certain Armillaria fungi have become famous for their humongous size and old age. The fungal fibers of a single genetic individual in Oregon extend over a few square miles and may weigh more than 10,000 tons. It is perhaps the biggest organism on Earth, and probably thousands of years old.
bigleaf maple sprouts
Pacific madrone sprouts
Pacific rhododendron sprouts
October 2, 2012: In early September 2011, a fire—ignited by an inadequately extinguished campfire—burned through about 1,280 acres near the Duckabush River in the eastern Olympic Mountains. As evident in this selection of today's photos, the "Big Hump Fire" stayed mostly near the ground. It burned snags and logs on the forest floor and killed some live trees, but many trees survived, even if burned at the base. Some trees and shrubs were killed above ground level but sent up new sprouts this year. Lots of fireweed came up this year in some of the burned areas
October 2, 2010: A tiny western toad, hatched and metamorphosed this year, forages on a slope above Elk Lake (elevation 2,670 feet) in the upper Hoh River basin. Within the next few weeks, the toadlet's first season of activity will come to an end as cold temperatures force it into a secluded refuge on land. Snow and ice will eventually cover its habitat until next spring.
October 2, 2010: Unnatural history: a mountain goat relaxes in the afternoon shade near Blue Glacier and Mount Olympus in Olympic National Park. Sights like this have become just plain history with the recent removal of the non-native goats from the park (see September 25, 2019, below).
The smooth, rounded shape of these bedrock outcrops—now far above Blue Glacier— remind us of how much bigger and thicker the glacier was not so long ago. The bedrock is marked by parallel gouges made by rocks as they were pushed/dragged along by the moving glacial ice. Some areas shine from having been "polished" by the glacier.
October 1, 2024: Trying to characterize autumn color change in bigleaf maple foliage involves a moving target. Some trees seem to go directly from green to golden yellow as chlorophyll breaks down before the leaves fall. Others, as shown here, change from the outer edges inward. These maple leaves in Port Townsend, where the species is not common, have dry, edges colored brown from tannins, a yellow mid-zone from carotenoid pigments, and chlorophyll-green centers near the primary veins. The maple leaf shown singly has just fallen from a low branch onto underlying salal foliage.
October 1, 2024: Pink honeysuckle vines in lowland trailside thickets still hold clusters of ripe fruits (see September 16, 2016, below). Does the seasonal foliage color change from green to pink/purple play a role in alerting birds to the presence of ripe fruits?
October 1, 2017: Madrone fruits are beginning to ripen along lowland forest edges around the Salish Sea. As the fruits turn red, they attract a wide range of frugivorous native birds (see October 8 & 22, November 8 & 28, and December 12 & 19 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 1, 2015: A migrating American pipit perches momentarily on a driftwood log on the beach at Spencer Spit on Lopez Island (San Juan Islands). The post-breeding migration of this songbird occurs mainly during September-November. As with all migrants I see, I wonder where it came from. Has this arctic/alpine nester come from a breeding area on the distant arctic tundra of Alaska or from an alpine meadow in Washington or British Columbia? And where is it going? Pipits are rare to uncommon in the Pacific Northwest in winter; most migrants that pass through the region spend the winter in the southwestern United States or Mexico, but you might see one on a local fallow field, beach, or similar somewhat barren habitat.
October 1, 2013: A rough-skinned newt plods across a hiking trail on a rainy afternoon on Cypress Island, on the eastern side of the San Juan Islands in the Salish Sea. The newt is one of several amphibian species that inhabit the San Juan Islands (see September 23, 2018, below). Cypress Island is the largest essentially undeveloped island in the archipelago. All but a small portion of the island is owned and managed for conservation purposes by the Washington Department of Natural Resources, so the newt's breeding ponds and upland foraging areas are relatively secure.
October 1, 2010: "Turkey tail" fungal fruiting bodies adorn a decaying driftwood log on a gravel bar along the Hoh River in Olympic National Park. This saprobic fungus (Trametes versicolor)—a nearly worldwide species—breaks down deadwood of hardwood trees (occasionally conifers). The color pattern varies but consistently forms attractive concentric patterns.
October 1, 2010: A walk under old-growth conifers in the Olympic Mountains always yields a scattering of "lettuce lichens" on the ground. The ecologically important lichens—much richer in nutrients that garden lettuce—grow high in the trees and fall when branches break off during wind storms (see November 27 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
October 1, 2010: A western cauliflower mushroom (Sparassis radicata) in prime condition festoons the base of a large Douglas-fir tree along the Hoh River in Olympic National Park. Seen most often in fall and early winter, this parasitic and saprobic fungus grows from dead and dying conifer roots and tree bases. It may appear in the same spot in different years. As others have pointed out, the fungus resembles "tightly packed egg noodles," rather than cauliflower.
September 30, 2010: Fly agaric—among the most iconic of all mushrooms—shows off its colorful warty cap along the Hoh River valley in Olympic National Park. The cap varies in color and shape, so not all look exactly like this one. Fly agaric inhabits coniferous and broadleaf woods in temperate and boreal climates across the Northern Hemisphere. It is regarded as poisonous if ingested, but the effect is rarely lethal. See also September 15 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
October 4, 2010: Here's the same fly agaric mushroom, four days later.
September 30, 2008: A white-spotted sawyer—a type of long-horned beetle—catches my eye near the High Divide in the Olympic Mountains. This female's antennae are indeed long, but the male's are much longer (sometimes spanning more than four inches). In late spring and summer, female sawyers lay their eggs in the bark of conifers that have been weakened or recently killed (for example, by fire) or recently cut during logging operations. The beetles are attracted to volatile compounds (odors) released by such trees, and they can also hone in on pheromones released by bark beetles that simultaneously attack the same conifers. The sawyer beetle larvae feed as they bore under the bark and deeper into the wood. The egg-to-adult life cycle usually encompasses multiple years.
September 29, 2024: Russula mushrooms have been appearing over the past 1-2 weeks, pushing up through lowland forest-floor duff. The cap on this one is seven inches in diameter. Underground, these mushrooms form mycorrhizal connections with plant roots, usually trees or shrubs (in this case presumably Douglas-fir, many of which surround the mushroom). In the photo, you can see where a banana slug grazed the mushroom stem and gills. Any carbon that the slug obtained came from Douglas-fir (or other plants), on which the mushroom is completely dependent for its carbon supply. Update: mid-October, 2024: Several large Russula mushrooms, including the one shown here, disappeared recently after black-tailed deer moved through the area.
September 29, 2020: An adult Cascades frog ascends a steep slope high above Elk Lake in the Hoh River drainage of Olympic National Park. We see so many of these frogs along the edges of subalpine lakes and ponds that we're tempted to assume they never leave those habitats, but on several occasions I've found them high on ridge slopes far from water, in places where they could easily cross from one drainage basin to another. This mobility may in part explain why Cascades frogs are ubiquitous in the Olympic Mountains.
September 29, 2017: On a wet afternoon, an adult rough-skinned newt crosses a dirt road as it migrates away from a lowland breeding pond (the source of the duckweed plants stuck to its skin). The newt may spend the next several months in the forest that surrounds the pond. Duckweed is sometimes presumed to be an algal growth, but it is actually a tiny flowering plant. See also August 28 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
September 29, 2015: Upper and middle: On Sucia Island (San Juan Islands), a male spotted towhee plucks and eats a Pacific crabapple fruit in a seaside thicket. The towhee chews and moves the fruit around in its bill, letting certain parts fall to the ground while swallowing the rest. Nearby, a golden-crowned sparrow shares in the fruity feast. The naturally miniature apples of this small native tree may remain attached through winter and provide food for American robins, song sparrows, cedar waxwings, and other birds and mammals. Bottom: Near the towhee, fruits of Pacific crabapple and Nootka rose vie for attention; today the birds ignore the rose hips.
Late September, multiple years, Olympic Mountains: Late summer and early autumn hikes into the subalpine Olympic Mountains and Cascade Range are sure to yield fresh flowers of mountain bog gentian (Gentiana calycosa) in wetlands, moist meadows, and along pond and stream margins. The vibrant blue flowers attract bumble bees (primary pollinators), hover flies, and wasps. The lips and throat of the flowers likely show bold ultraviolet patterns that bumble bees find highly attractive.
Pacific sideband, but not the one described below.
September 29, 2010: A few days ago, I found a Pacific sideband snail affixed (with dried mucus) to the side of a wooden outbuilding in a lowland forest. Today it is still there but has moved to a spot 7 inches away, leaving behind a curled-up mass of fecal material and some of the dry mucus.
September 29, 2008: Morning sunlight illuminates Sitka mountain-ash on the High Divide in Olympic National Park. This native shrub is widely distributed in the Pacific Northwest, primarily in mountainous areas. The small applelike fruits are not highly sought after by wildlife (and not really palatable to humans), but they may remain on the plants through winter and provide food for various frugivorous birds and mammals when other foods are scarce.
September 28, 2024: This photo zooms in on a spot on the ground where today a Douglas squirrel descaled and ate the seeds from four Douglas-fir cones, not far from my office window. The squirrel brought each cone, likely among those cut and dropped several days ago, to this spot separately over a period of a few hours. It dismantled each cone while facing toward a small forest opening, with its back to a tall thicket of sword ferns that shielded the squirrel from a surprise attack by a hawk or coyote. The feeding spot/midden is ten feet from the base of the Douglas-fir tree from which the cones were cut. I must mention that the squirrel and I have a running battle going on as it seems intent on getting into the space between the roof and ceiling of the little shack that serves as my office (see August 21 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
September 28, 2020: Upper: This is one of many Sitka spruce cones that were recently cut and dropped to the ground by a Douglas squirrel along the Hoh River in Olympic National Park. Cones contain an average of around 180 small, winged seeds. Cone production by individual spruce trees varies from year to year. Within a local population, trees may exhibit a high degree of synchrony in the production of large cone crops, but in some years many trees have few cones while others produce large cone crops. For an individual tree, cone crop size likely depends on resource availability (e.g., nutrient supply, soil moisture, competition with other trees) and weather conditions that affect the production and development of pollen cones and seed cones.
Lower: In the lower center part of the photo is a midden formed at the base of a Sitka spruce tree as a Douglas squirrel perched on a branch and ate the seeds from many spruce cones, the scales and cores of which dropped to the ground.
September 28, 2018: Let's reflect a moment on dowitchers. The photos show juvenile long-billed dowitchers by themselves, but they were members of a small flock, as is often the case. Young long-billed dowitchers migrate later than the adults (and often well after short-billed dowitchers move through the area). In fact, among shorebirds, adults and juveniles often have different migration schedules, with adults generally preceding juveniles during the southward post-breeding migration.
In the bottom photo, there's nothing wrong with the dowitcher's bill—the bird can bend the bill tip upward at will, such as when probing in mud (see September 29 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest) or simply plucking prey from the water. In the photo, the dowitcher is merely stretching its jaws. Bill-tip protraction (distal rhynchokinesis) also occurs in various other long-billed shorebirds. The bill is not a fixed, rigid rod. Note also the nostril position at the very base of the bill, which helps keep the openings clear when the bird probes deeply in mud. The only birds with their nostrils near the bill tip are the kiwis of New Zealand, which use odors to detect prey.
September 28, 2017: I think September 28 is a pretty good date to find amphibians (see following)! This afternoon a juvenile northern red-legged frog is out foraging along a lowland forest edge near Winona Wetland, a conservation areas in Port Townsend. Adequate protection of red-legged frog habitat includes not only the breeding pond or lake but also a wide area of surrounding uplands that the frogs use for foraging throughout much of the year.
September 28, 2012: A subadult western toad forages on a steep, dry hillside above Three Forks in the Gray Wolf River drainage (Olympic Mountains). It uses its sticky tongue to lap up beetles and other invertebrates. Toads are not great leapers and lack slippery skin, so they are easy to capture. Nevertheless, they are protected from some predators by their distasteful and toxic skin. The numerous "warts" and large lumps behind the eyes contain concentrations of poison glands.
September 28, 2012: Along a rivulet near the upper Gray Wolf River (Olympic Mountains), we're very happy to find a coastal tailed frog, one of the Pacific Northwest's most unique animals (see September 28 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). But how do you recognize a tailed frog if it doesn't have, or you cannot see, the "tail"? The appendage is not actually a tail but rather a copulatory organ; it's absent in females. Either gender can be recognized by the paler skin between the snout and eyes, the vertically oriented pupil, and the somewhat flattened outer two toes of the hind foot (the outermost toe is thicker than the others).
September 28, 2012: Before we depart our camp near Gray Wolf Pass in the Olympic Mountains, I must stop and take yet more photos of the beautiful long-toed salamanders we find hidden under pond-edge rocks. This photo shows the relatively long fourth toe on the hind foot that gives this salamander its name, though on some individuals the toe does not look especially long. Coloration is also variable; the dorsal stripe may be yellow or green, bright or subdued.
September 28, 2012: An unidentified dead tree is covered with burls along the upper Gray Wolf River (Olympic Mountains). The cause of these abnormal woody growths is unknown but likely involves a fungus, bacteria, or virus. Other trees in the area, looking otherwise healthy, have single burls that sometimes are larger than a beach ball. In the coastal section of Olympic National Park, you can examine lots of huge burls along the "Spruce Burl Trail."
September 28, 2012: This basketball-size fungal fruiting body is known as bear's head (Hericium abietis) We found several of these today on conifer snags, stumps, and logs along the Gray Wolf River (Olympic Mountains). Bear's head breaks down dead wood and sometimes parasitizes live conifers. In the Pacific Northwest, the season for this edible fungus peaks in September-October.
September 28, 2010: 9:00 pm, 53°F: In the beam of my headlamp, I spot an ensatina walking in the open in a forest clearing. Recent moist weather seems to have stimulated this secretive, strictly terrestrial amphibian to emerge from cover and perhaps find food. Autumn's moderate temperatures and wet conditions provide excellent conditions for ensatina activity.
September 28, 2008: A black bear scat along the High Divide in Olympic National Park indicates that the bear fed on grasses or sedges, then switched to berries, the remains of which exited the bear after the lumps of fibrous waste.
September 27, 2024: Upper: A compact, nondescript duck dabbles in the shallows of the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. We might guess that's it's a young mallard, of which many are produced here. But experienced duck watchers, noting certain subtleties of the plumage pattern and bill color, together especially with the duck's small size for this time of year (young mallards would be larger), might suggest "teal" as more likely.
Lower: The little duck turns around, and we get a glimpse of part of its green speculum, confirming that it's a green-winged teal, North America's smallest dabbling duck. At certain angles, the green of the speculum can look blue.
Green-winged teals show up at the lagoon mainly when migrating in late summer and fall, less often during spring migration, infrequently in winter, and rarely in late spring and early summer (when breeding elsewhere).
September 27, 2024: I'm at the far end of a pier that juts out into Admiralty Inlet (Salish Sea), with my eye on various seabirds and a Steller sea lion. On the railing right next to me is a multicolored Asian lady beetle (or simply, Asian lady beetle), an exotic insect imported in the United States several times over many decades for pest control. However, it did not become established in the wild until the late 1980s (in Louisiana) and since then has spread across much of North America. I've found single Asian lady beetles on this pier multiple times (in spring and fall) and wonder why they appear here, surrounded by saltwater and with essentially nothing to eat. Adult Asian lady beetles are attracted to buildings as places to spend the winter. There are lots of old buildings in the area. Are the single lady beetles on the pier simply heading that way? Did they fly over water to get here? See April 5 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
September 27, 2012: Near Lost Pass in the Olympic Mountains, aplodontias (mountain beavers) remain busy cutting plants and placing them in little piles outside their burrows (see early September, below). Cuttings seen today include green false hellebore (Veratrum viride, middle photo), a native plant that is extremely toxic to humans and some other herbivorous mammals. Some aplodontias are extending their burrows, evidenced by fresh fan-shaped piles of excavated soil (bottom photo).
September 27, 2011: Admiralty Inlet between the northeastern Olympic Peninsula and Whidbey Island still has quite a few egg-yolk jellies (photo) and lion's mane jellies up to several inches in diameter. The season for seeing egg-yolk jellies is winding down. Lion's mane jelly can remain fairly common well into autumn. See June 28, August 29, and November 27 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
Egg-yolk jellies do not always swim sunny-side up. You may see them in an over-easy orientation or—when they encounter a boat propeller—scrambled.
September 27, 2010: Western amethyst laccaria mushrooms (Laccaria amethysteo-occidentalis) have erupted from a mossy opening in a lowland forest. This autumn-fruiting (late September into December) fungus forms mycorrhizal partnerships with conifers, in this case Douglas-fir, the roots of which extend into the forest opening.
long-toed salamander adult
Cascades frog
long-toed salamander near end of metamorphosis
northwestern salamander larva
September 26, 2012: We explore off trail near Lost Peak in the Olympic Mountains and decide to camp near a small pond at 5,900 feet. Sharp whistles of Olympic marmots let us know we've been seen. After dark, we use our headlamps to search the pond margin for critters. Immediately we find adult and large larval Cascades frogs, also a brightly striped adult long-toed salamander. As we move along the shoreline, we're rewarded with several long-toed salamanders that have nearly completed metamorphosis, as well as larval northwestern salamanders. Tracks of black bear and bull elk punctuate the mud, and a lone bat makes foraging swoops over our heads. Although our subalpine campsite offers only sloped lumpy ground for our sleeping bags, we proclaim it an excellent spot!
September 26, 2009: Loose flocks of migrating yellow-rumped warblers forage in pond-side trees and shrubs at the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. With clear weather that favors this warbler's nocturnal flights, distinct pulses of migrating birds often move through this area in early spring and late summer and early fall (see March 17, April 22, and September 10 & 19 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest. The extent and timing of southward autumn migration of this species varies from year to year with weather conditions and food supply. Mild conditions cause many birds to linger northward.
September 26, 2007: Along the Hoh River in Olympic National Park, a female red crossbill flies up from a sandy gravel bar and lands in a willow next to me. I suspect that she was on the bar to ingest grit. In the crossbill's muscular gizzard, grit helps break down hard conifer seeds—a mainstay in the bird's diet. See January 17 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
September 25, 2019: This rosy slime spike mushroom (Gomphidius subroseus) tells us something about what is going on underground here along the Dungeness River (Olympic Mountains). Rosy slime spikes form mutually beneficial mycorrhizal connections with conifer roots, especially Douglas-fir. The mushroom obtains carbohydrates from the tree while improving the tree's access to water and soil nutrients. Such connections between various soil fungi and plant roots are very common. Fungal threads of rosy slime spike also sometimes parasitize established mycorrhizal connections between Suillus fungi and tree roots.
September 25, 2019: On a high rocky ridge (6,500 feet) in the eastern Olympic Mountains, Olympic harebell (aka Olympic bellflower) still has its lovely flowers.
2024 postscript: This unique wildflower may benefit from recent management actions that essentially eliminated the introduced population of mountain goats in Olympic National Park (ONP), but stresses from ongoing climate change remain. Ironically, native populations of mountain goats in the Cascades of Washington also may be under stress from the effects of climate change.
Of the mountain goats in ONP, 325 were translocated to appropriate habitats in the Washington Cascades, but their survival rate after release was very poor. A few dozen were euthanized or died during capture or transport. About 175 were killed. Sixteen juveniles were taken to zoos. Very few sightings of mountain goats have been made in ONP since 2022, so alpine plants should now experience reduced pressure from grazing and trampling.
A mountain goat crosses a subalpine meadow near Cameron Pass, Olympic National Park, July 2009.
I'm awakened as mountain goats circle my sleeping bag in Eleven Bull Basin, Olympic National Park, September 2011.
September 25, 2007: Along the High Divide in the Olympic Mountains, blueberries are still plentiful, and big fresh piles of black bear scat are full of berry remains and blueberry foliage.
September 24, 2021: There's nothing quite like an early autumn "larch march" in the subalpine zone of the North Cascades. The color change of western larch foliage from green to glorious gold occurs as chlorophyll breaks down and exposes carotenoid pigments. Materials from the breakdown of the photosynthetic machinery are stored in the tree for use next year. After the brilliant autumn display (larch madness?), the needles drop, leaving the trees bare in winter.
September 24, 2013: Tiny mushrooms emerge from a Douglas-fir cone on a lowland forest floor. In the Pacific Northwest, these fungal fruiting bodies appear primarily during September-November (peak in October). See also October 18 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
September 24, 2013: The "lobster mushroom" (Hypomyces lactiflourum) is not really a mushroom in the usual sense. What we have here is a russula mushroom (probably Russula brevipes) that has been parasitized by the H. lactifluorum fungus, which utterly transforms the russula from a mushroom of questionable edibility into something quite good. Scarcely anything of the original russula remains. This lobster is from a lowland forest edge near Port Townsend.
September 24, 2007: Along the Hoh River valley in Olympic National Park, red huckleberry shrubs are loaded with juicy fruits (upper photo). Highly palatable and full of sugar and vitamin C, the fruits attract a wide range of frugivorous birds and mammals, ranging from thrushes and deermice to grouse and bears. Red huckleberry often grows on old stumps, likely where a bird perched and released seed-laden fecal material. Passing through the gut of an animal may promote seed germination. Hikers can pluck red huckleberry fruits for a quick snack but should beware the similar looking, poisonous red baneberry (lower photo)!
September 24, 2007: A Rocky Mountain parnassian (butterfly) soaks up some noontime sun on a high ridge near the Sol Duc River headwaters. In Washington, this species inhabits primarily the higher elevations of the Olympic Mountains and Cascade Range. The caterpillars feed on stonecrop (Sedum), a bit of which is shown at the top of the photo. There's quite a lot of stonecrop nearby, so perhaps this female has been laying eggs. The flight season peaks in August, and overwintering occurs in the egg (perhaps also caterpillar) stage, so her days are numbered.
September 24, 2007: Large numbers of Cascades frog larvae occupy a shallow tarn near Appleton Pass in the Olympic Mountains. Larvae are not known to overwinter. Will they have time to metamorphose before the water freezes or dries up?
September 24, 2007: Camped at an elevation of about 5,100 feet near Appleton Pass in the Olympic Mountains, we awaken to a surprisingly chilly morning and a lovely frosty covering on plants in the open meadows. It's our first freeze of the season; our sleeping bags are warm, but mentally we're not quite ready for it!
September 23, 2024: I decide to make a quick visit to Froggy Bottoms, a restored wetland with a seasonal pond in Port Townsend. I want to check on the Oregon ash trees that were planted here in 1999. My mind is on the ash trees because an extremely serious pest, the emerald ash borer, showed up on Oregon ash trees in Oregon in 2022. The larvae of this little metallic green beetle tunnel under the bark of ash trees and eventually cause lethal damage to the tree's vascular tissues. The beetle can spread and do its damage amazingly fast. In eastern North America, I witnessed utter devastation of mature ash trees across vast areas in just a decade. In the Pacific Northwest, Oregon ash—the only native ash species, ranging from southwestern British Columbia to California—has no resistance to the beetle, so it seems only a matter of time before Oregon ash natural history becomes just plain history. But so far, the beetle has not been detected in Washington. Today's photos: Oregon ash foliage (upper) and fruits (samaras, lower). The several trees I examine this afternoon show no evidence of emerald ash borer. 😀
September 23, 2024: Under the ash trees at Froggy Bottoms, I discover that this has been a good year for Pacific treefrog reproduction. Dozens of tiny froglets, small enough to fit on a fingertip, clamber and bask on low vegetation at the wetland edge on this mild, sunny afternoon. The site has no standing water now, but it clearly contained water long enough in spring and early summer to allow the frog larvae to complete their development and metamorphose into froglets.
September 23, 2018: This afternoon we follow a loop trail through the forest on one-mile-long Isla de Mata ("Matia Island"), east of Sucia Island in the northern San Juan Islands. Beneath the trees (Douglas-fir, western hemlock, western redcedar, grand fir, red alder, bigleaf maple) are lots of native banana slugs (photo of a big one) as well as non-native arionid slugs. How did these salt-intolerant, land-dwelling mollusks get to the island? Pacific treefrogs are here, too, and populations of other freshwater frogs and salamanders exist on several of the San Juan Islands. Again, how did they arrive? Ice covered the present islands during the last glaciation, so today's biota arrived after deglaciation (less than 15,000 years ago). Ancient bison were present on the San Juan Islands during early post-glacial time (about 12,000 years ago), suggesting the former existence of some sort of passable route(s) between the mainland and islands (and among the different islands). Were the routes passable for slugs, amphibians, and other small animals? Seems possible, given their frequent presence on small/remote/undeveloped islands, where human-assisted transport is less likely (see following).
Other plausible means of island colonization and population establishment: Land slugs and amphibians do poorly in saltwater, so it's unlikely that they simply swam or drifted in currents across open waters of the present Salish Sea, though some might have rafted to and among the islands on floating woody plant material. Some amphibian populations likely became established after deliberate or unintentional introductions of aquatic biota by people. Non-native bullfrogs certainly fall into this category. Undoubtedly some amphibians and land slugs arrived on boats carrying building materials, potted plants, or vehicles (amphibians and slugs sometimes seclude themselves in such places). Treefrogs and slugs may stowaway on trailered boats that have been stored outside in or near wooded areas on the mainland or another island.
September 23, 2018: Our explorations of the intertidal zone at Fossil Bay, along Sucia Island in the extreme northern San Juan Islands archipelago, yield a nice selection of small fishes (see September 23 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest), as well as many of the most common small crabs, including purple shore crab (upper photo) and yellow shore crab (lower). These two crabs abundantly inhabit intertidal areas throughout the Salish Sea and on the outer coast. How will these ecologically important native crustaceans fare in the face of the ongoing invasion of the Pacific Northwest by non-native European green crabs?
September 23, 2018: A river otter emerges from the water after a morning of foraging in Fossil Bay (Sucia Island). It crosses a narrow isthmus (145 feet wide) and swims into Fox Cove. River otters are common around the San Juan Islands and far outnumber sea otters. In the Pacific Northwest, river otters do inhabit rivers and lakes but are far more common around the margins of the Salish Sea, where they subsist on marine fishes and invertebrates.
September 22, 2024: A juvenile Bewick's wren forages in a thicket of oceanspray, salal, and sword fern along a lowland forest edge near human-made structures, where I've been seeing both Bewick's wrens and Pacific wrens (lately including a singing male of the latter). As the young wren forages, a Pacific treefrog calls from low in a dense clump of sword fern.
Bewick's wren has increased its presence here as the site has undergone increased clearing and construction in recent years. So far I have not seen any altercations between the two wren species, but they are known to interact aggressively where their territories meet. It's likely that Bewick's wren will dominate the disturbed, semi-developed forest edge while Pacific wrens (less tolerant of land development) should hold their own in the adjacent mature native forest. Near the forest edge, Bewick's wren may now monopolize suitable nest sites (e.g., wood piles) that were used by Pacific wrens when the site was less developed.
September 22, 2009: Along the Sol Duc River in Olympic National Park we find a flourishing of "angel wings" (Pleurocybella porrigens), including this elegant cluster. This common fungus decomposes dead conifer wood (especially hemlock). Widely distributed across the Northern Hemisphere, angel wings fruiting bodies are most often seen in late summer and early fall (peak in October in the Pacific Northwest). Despite its resemblance to Pleurotus oyster mushrooms, angel wings fungi are not regarded as safe to eat.
right front
right rear
genital region
September 21, 2019: I scoop up a road-killed coast mole so we can take a close look at some interesting anatomy. The front feet, used for tunneling and pushing up molehills, are much broader than the rear and operated by short, powerful forelimbs. The clawed thumb has a flap on its side (yellow arrow) that expands the size of the palm area for digging and pushing soil (see September 16, 2016, below). The unclawed flap—not a true digit—is supported by a modified wrist bone. Though not visible in the photos, the upper arm bone is so short, thick, and adorned with large projections for muscle attachment that it is scarcely recognizable as a humerus. Looking at the genital region, we're hard-pressed to determine the mole's gender, as males and females look very similar. In contrast, the gender of a deermouse is immediately obvious with a quick look between the hind legs.
coast mole tail, September 2009
September 21, 2009: A plentiful crop of low-growing blueberries along the High Divide in Olympic National Park attracts black bears, sooty grouse, flocks of band-tailed pigeons, backpackers, and other wild animals. The dark specks in the sky are part of a flock of more than 150 band-tailed pigeons that soon descend to the ground to gobble up the sweet fruits.
September 21, 2007: In late summer around the Salish Sea, we see influxes of gulls that were relatively scarce in June-July. Primary among these are short-billed gulls (upper photo of adult) and Bonaparte's gulls (lower photo of adult). Both species—shown here in nonbreeding plumage—began to show up in much increased numbers in August (after the conclusion of their breeding season) and now can be found every day from many suitable coastal vantage points. Short-billed gulls nest from Alaska to as far south as Vancouver Island, Bonaparte's from Alaska to central interior British Columbia.
September 20, 2019: In lowlands around the Salish Sea, late summer brings forth a new generation of deermice (see August 20, 2024, below). Yes, I'm holding onto the juvenile mouse's tail for the photo before I release it!
September 20, 2019: As summer draws to a close, the most frequently seen butterfly in disturbed lowlands around the Salish Sea is the non-native cabbage white, seen here on sea-rocket, a plant that serves as a nectar source for adults and as food for the caterpillars. The cabbage white is one of the world's most numerous butterflies. It thrives especially in habitats altered by humans, including farms and gardens where the caterpillars munch many of the same food plants that people enjoy. Two sea-rocket species—both introduced—occur along the Pacific Northwest coast.
September 20, 2017: Our old wooden boat cruises slowly along Clements Reef in the northern San Juan Islands, where this afternoon's low tide provides good resting places for 28 Steller sea lions, whose deep bellows fill the air, and about 75 harbor seals (foreground). The hauled-out pinnipeds no doubt have filled their stomachs with some of the abundant food resources of the Salish Sea. Harbor seals breed locally; adults and juveniles can be seen in the upper and middle photos. Breeding rookeries for Steller sea lion are on the outer coast.
September 20, 2017: We're exploring a low fractured cliff in the spray/splash zone along the edge of Sucia Island (San Juan Islands). Upper: An adult Pacific sideband, a native air-breathing, terrestrial snail, glides along a rock surface, likely grazing on thin biofilm. It's primary habitat is wooded uplands, and this salty site is at its ecological limit. Lower: An arm's-reach away, beneath a loose rock, I discover a so-called "sleepy seaslater" (Ligia pallasii), an isopod crustacean typically found just above the intertidal zone. Uncomfortably exposed, it scurries toward cover. In daytime, adult seaslaters stay hidden in crevices, while small young seclude themselves among algae. They avoid seawater but can survive in it for some time if necessary. For sustenance, seaslaters graze algae and scavenge dead items. Females release young from a brood pouch (no aquatic larval stage).
September 20-21, 2015: Western thatching ants in lowlands around the Salish Sea commonly build their big nests along the sides of wide pathways and secondary roads, perhaps for the increased warmth from the sun in the frequently cool conditions. In late summer and early fall, the ants are usually busy atop sun-exposed mounds, but often it's not evident exactly what they are doing. On exceptionally warm days with intense early afternoon sunlight, the ants avoid the hot south-facing side of the mound and congregate on the cooler north side (bottom photo, ant-covered north side at right). See March 10 & 27 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
September 20, 2014: During the brief mating period, Douglas squirrels "hook up" wherever it's convenient, in the trees or on the ground (see September 20 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). The behavior involves short chases, wrestling, tumbling, neck nuzzling by the male, thrusting intromission, and quiet moments.
September 20, 2009: Perhaps it goes without saying that we have a bumper crop of wild blueberries this year in the Olympic Mountains near the High Divide.
September 19, 2024: A western redcedar holds many open, mature seed cones that began to develop last year and were pollinated this year. Each cone is about half an inch long. When I invert a cone cluster and shake it, lots of small winged seeds fall out. Also present are relatively few tightly closed green cones that will be pollinated and mature next year (bottom photo).
It's impressive that such a tiny seed can end up as an immense tree that can live more than 1,500 years and reach a trunk diameter of 20 feet. It's a shame that our short-sighted predecessors left us with so few of those big old trees to study, admire, and from which to draw inspiration.
September 19, 2017: This afternoon we're exploring Sucia Island in the San Juan Islands. On a bull kelp that washed ashore, we closely examine the remains of a kelp-encrusting bryozoan (Membranipora membranacea), a "colonial" animal. In the living colony, each of the hundreds of tiny units houses a zooid that has a retractable cluster of ciliated tentacles used for feeding on algal detritus and attached microbes. Colonies grow through asexual budding, then enter a sexual, reproductive phase as simultaneous or sequential hermaphrodites (zooids may transition from male to female). New colonies become established when a sexually produced planktonic larva attaches to a kelp and starts to expand through budding. Live colonies sometimes host predatory nudibranchs (sea slugs) that are highly cryptic and easy to overlook.
September 19, 2017: Spieden Island in the San Juan Islands of Washington has a strange fauna, including populations of exotic mouflon sheep (photos), sika deer, and fallow deer. These and other Old World mammals and birds were imported to the narrow 2.8-mile-long island decades ago, reportedly shipped from a game farm in Texas. In the 1970s-1980s, well-heeled hunters and celebrities paid top dollar to shoot the basically captive animals. Today, the inhumane trophy hunting business has ceased, but the island remains a bizarre curiosity in private ownership. In the bottom photo, mouflon sheep rams visit Spieden's intertidal zone to feed on marine algae, a good source of vitamins, minerals, and protein.
September 19, 2009: In Olympic Peninsula lowlands, a black-tailed deer reaches high to obtain foliage of red elderberry, a favored food in this patchy forest. Most of the low-growing elderberry foliage already has been eaten. Note that this deer is undergoing a molt, replacing its summer pelage with what will develop into a warmer winter coat.
September 18, 2024: This Douglas-fir cone was recently cut and dropped to the ground by a Douglas squirrel. In this lowland forest, some cones are beginning to open and release their winged seeds. I found one on the ground and placed it atop this cone. Each cone scale has two winged seeds tucked beneath it.
September 18, 2017: Upper: Hauled out on a dock in the San Juan Islands, a harbor seal stretches and give us a glimpse of the surprisingly long, well-clawed front flippers. Because the upper arm and much of the forearm often are not evident when we see a seal, we might imagine the front flippers to be weak, abbreviated paddles. But in fact they're substantial and powerful, though less so than a sea lion's. Middle and lower: Stretched out on the dock and swimming belly-up in an aquarium, harbor seals show us their big, fully webbed hind flippers (the primary means of propulsion).
September 18, 2010: This photo pretty much sums up this year's late summer mushroom crop in a lowland forest near Port Townsend...prolific!
September 18, 2010: Flowering heads of thistles are becoming scarce now in late summer, so sometimes the remaining blooms get a bit crowded as nectar seekers (woodland skipper at top, with hover fly) vie for late-season sweets.
September 17, 2018: While bicycling near the Kah Tai Lagoon on a sunny afternoon in Port Townsend, I glance left and reflexively squeeze my brakes—a Wilson's snipe feeding in the open pond shallows! I've seen this migratory shorebird here before, usually one or two at a time in late summer or early fall. Most of my sightings result from accidently flushing one from a well-hidden spot on the pond shore, so this open view is a treat. The species nests in scattered freshwater wetlands around the Salish Sea and widely across northern North America.
September 17, 2010: Under tall Douglas-fir and western hemlock trees along the Dungeness River in the eastern Olympic Mountains, Cascade barberry is loaded with tart, seedy fruits (see August 10, 2011, below). This low evergreen shrub does well in deep shade of old forests as well as in sites that have been recently burned or cleared.
September 17, 2010: Paddle-tailed darners—common around ponds and lakes—tend to hover in place for a few seconds, so they're relatively easy to photograph, even more so because they often return to hover in the same spot after making a short loop out to patrol other areas. Like all dragonflies, they have big eyes and fantastic vision, put to use in myriad essential functions, such as prey detection, predator evasion, mate finding, social interactions, and aerial navigation. See also August 19, 2011 (below).
September 17, 2009: A Pacific treefrog basks in the noonday sun on a Pacific rhododendron leaf in a lowland forest opening. We're approaching the time when this behavior ceases for the year. In fact, most of the treefrogs we detect these days are calling while hidden in dense vegetation, usually in shady sites, commonly at night. See May 26 and October 8 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
September 16, 2016: As I cruise slowly on my bicycle along the margin of a lowland forest, I discover an adult coast mole lying dead on the ground. I examine the stocky little mammal and find no wounds or other sign of injury. How did it die?
To show the relative size of the mole and its typical excavations, I pose the mole on two abutting molehills near where I found it. The mounds, pushed up from underground, consist of material excavated by the mole as it creates tunnels that extend as much as a few feet beneath the surface.
September 16, 2016: Pink honeysuckle fruits are ripening along lowland forest edges. Thrushes, waxwings, woodpeckers, and other birds eat the fruits and disperse the seeds in their droppings. I squish two fruits to show the contents. The skin encloses three seeds in a watery pulp. Next is the taste test (just the juice). Initially it's okay but quickly turns bitter and unpleasant. Repeated spitting comes next...
September 16, 2014: Among a flock of adult and juvenile cedar waxwings, I spot one juvenile holding a bitter cherry fruit while perched in a poplar tree. Did the bird pluck the fruit from a nearby cherry tree or obtain it from a parent? Waxwings often hold fruits for a moment before swallowing, and large fruits can take awhile to ingest. But this bird simply holds the small fruit—without trying to swallow—for at least three minutes before finally downing it. Does the young waxwing already have a full stomach?
September 16, 2011: When black bears in the Olympic Mountains aren't eating blueberries or salmon, they feed on a wide range of other foods, including the nutritious cambium layer of trees, accessed by stripping off the bark. The photos show a western hemlock that a bear debarked (not recently) near the Low Divide. For an example of fresh debarking and cambium consumption, see August 10, 2010, below.
September 16, 2010: Flocks of western sandpipers are still regular sights along Salish Sea shores. By the end of October, they will be harder to find, except on the outer coast. This photo shows the small hind toe that is lacking in sanderlings (see September 8, 2010).
September 16, 2009: Today is my first visit to the Mima Mounds Natural Area Preserve (Mima Mounds Prairie), southwest of Olympia in Thurston County, Washington. The area is world-renowned for its dense swarms of naturally occurring mounds up to 7 feet high and 40 feet wide. Similar mounds occur elsewhere in Washington and other parts of North America. See May 21 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
This is what the Mima Mounds Prairie looks like in a satellite image. The area shown is 0.75 miles wide. The pale lines are dirt roads/trails. Image date: August 2022.
September 16, 2009: This part of the Mima Mounds Prairie was recently burned. Periodic prescribed fire is used as a management tool to inhibit the incursion of Douglas-fir and encourage the proliferation of prairie biota. This somewhat replicates the activities of Indigenous people who harvested camas bulbs here prior to their ouster by Euro-Americans.
This shows a cross-section through a mound along a road cut. Beneath the prairie vegetation is a mound composed of a mixture of black sandy loam and rounded gravel. This sits atop layered glacial outwash with large cobbles. Photo from Washburn (1988). The origin of these features remains uncertain, despite many well-considered explanations, which range from seismic events to rodent activity.
September 16, 2008: Seeing the black and white color morphs of black bear as they fish for pink salmon in west-central British Columbia was such a unique opportunity that I have to add a few more photos to the record (see September 16 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
September 15, 2024: Orbweaver spiders and their webs have multiplied in a lowland forest opening. This one—near several others—is in the same location as the one I photographed last month (see August 18, 2024, below) and it may be the same spider.
September 15, 2024: Another orbweaver in a big web, quite beautiful and only 10 feet from the cross orbweaver (Araneus diadematus) shown above, turns out to be Nordmann's orbweaver (Araneus nordmanni), a species whose range covers a vast area in North America, Europe, and Asia.
September 15, 2021: Over the years I've learned that subalpine ponds like this in the Olympic Mountains usually harbor long-toed salamanders. In fact, this pond at 5,600 feet supports an especially robust breeding population of these beautiful amphibians. The two adults in the photo are just as I found them under a rock at the pond edge. Last night, I found many salamander larvae resting on the pond bottom.
September 15, 2006: While strolling along a path in a mature red alder/Douglas-fir forest I'm startled by things dropping from the treetops and hitting the ground. They turn out to be clusters of red alder seed "cones." I look up and get glimpses of a Douglas squirrel busily moving among the cone clusters and nipping them off. The ground is littered with many dozens of squirrel-cut clusters. In one spot, a squirrel has disarticulated a cone and extracted the seeds. [Days later, most of the cone clusters are gone, evidently collected and stored for later use by a squirrel. September 15, 2024: I'm back in exactly the same forest site, but today there are no alder cones on the ground, though there are plenty up in the trees. This year, Douglas squirrels are focusing on the bumper crop of Douglas-fir seed cones and ignoring the relatively tiny seeds of red alder. In 2006, Douglas-firs here had few or no cones; red alders provided the only significant seed source for squirrels to harvest and cache.
September 14, 2023: In a largely barren, remote wilderness area in the alpine zone of the Cascades, we're surprised when a Clark's nutcracker lands near our feet and investigates low-growing patches of crowberry. I'm guessing that this is a young bird (adults are wary, except in national parks where people feed them) and that it must be looking for crowberry fruits. The bird probes the plants but does not eat anything, so we are unsure of what the nutcracker is up to. Perhaps it found juicy crowberry fruits elsewhere and is hoping for more in what turns out to be a fruitless search.
Olympic marmot tracks
September 14, 2021: Olympic marmots keep an eye on each other (and watch for predators) in a subalpine meadow in the upper Dosewallips River drainage, Olympic National Park. Olympic marmots live in groups ("colonies") that in late summer often include an adult male, two adult females, yearlings, and juveniles born in early summer. Members of the colony tend to move freely among the multiple burrows in their home range. As suggested by these photos, not all Olympic marmots look the same. Pelage color patterns vary among individuals in a colony, and they change seasonally, too.
September 14, 2009: A sad event (see September 14 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest) gives us an unusually close look at the unique bill of a male white-winged scoter. What is the significance of the gaping "see-through" nostrils? They resemble those of turkey vultures (but vultures lack the big hump). Turkey vultures use their sense of smell to locate food, and their wide-open nostrils may facilitate that process. Ocean-dwelling albatrosses, shearwaters, and their close relatives have distinctive tubular nostrils that may help them find food through odor detection. So, do scoters use odors to find food? It seems unlikely given that for much of the year they dive to the bottom to obtain mollusks. Fluid from the scoter's salt-secreting glands exits from the nostrils, but many birds that feed in saltwater have the same arrangement without such large nostrils. I'm running out of ideas...
September 13-14, 2011: Our 2011 backpacking trip through the Bailey Range in the Olympic Mountains finds a lot more snow than typical for this time of year—a result of well-above average snowfall during the previous winter and slow melt-off this summer. None of this snow is from recent storms. In most years, these areas are snow free in mid-September. There's been nothing like this since.
September 13, 2021: As we bushwhack below Sentinel Peak in the Olympic Mountains, we accidently cross paths with a black bear and her single cub. She gives a gruff vocalization that sends the cub up a nearby snag. We back away and give them wide berth as we continue our explorations, remembering to make our presence known by talking loudly when we approach thick cover.
September 13, 2019: This northwestern gartersnake looks rather handsome, don't you think? But I must admit it's a posed photo. Sadly, the snake was just mortally wounded after being run over by a speeding electric fat-tire bike on the Larry Scott Trail in Port Townsend. Snakes lack movable eyelids, so the eyes—covered by transparent, fixed "spectacles"—remain open 24/7, alive or dead. I estimate that I've seen approximately 150 gartersnake roadkills while bicycling in and near Port Townsend since 2006, most of them on paved roads but increasingly on bike paths.
September 13, 2015: Mazama pocket gophers have been active in a subalpine meadow near Appleton Pass in the Olympic Mountains. Signs of these burrowing mammals include "eskers" of excavated soil that was packed into snow tunnels in winter. The soil eskers have weathered a bit since the snow melted off. Also present are piles of freshly excavated soil pushed to one side of open burrows. This small pocket gopher population and several others are isolated in the northwestern quarter of Olympic National Park. Elsewhere in western Washington, Mazama pocket gophers exist primarily in remnant prairie/savanna habitats. Most populations are declining, and several have been extirpated. Habitat has been lost and fragmented by development or degraded by invasive plants or incursion of Douglas-fir (such as occurs with fire exclusion).
Mazama pocket gopher (Thomomys mazama)
Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife
Photo: Kim Flotlin (USFWS)
Pocket gophers can close their lips behind the incisors such that they can gnaw roots, scrape dirt, carry plant material, and stuff food into the external fur-lined cheek pouches, all without getting soil in the mouth.
September 13, 2015: Mount Olympus and its glaciers catch morning sunlight above the fog-filled valley of the Hoh River in Olympic National Park. How long will these shrinking glaciers persist? See May 26 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
September 13, 2013: A common gartersnake (Thamnophis sirtalis) warms itself in a patch of noonday sun along a creek near Glacier Peak (Washington Cascades), where it likely has been hunting amphibians or other small animals. Within a few weeks, the snake's activity season will be over. Generally, from October to March, these snakes seclude themselves underground, often in rocky areas; they may emerge briefly during warm spells but usually do not feed or roam around during the cold season. They resume regular activity with warming temperatures in early spring.
September 13, 2009: Vine maple along the Skyline Trail provides a visual feast of color change before the leaves fall. The native range of this large shrubby maple (not actually a vine) is confined to the Pacific Northwest. See October 1 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
September 12, 2020: Today we see many little Cascades frogs (as well as tiny western toads) near ponds along the Skyline Trail in Olympic National Park (same location as September 12, 2009, below). The frogs seem to shrink as they metamorphose from full-grown larvae to tailless hopping froglets.
September 12, 2009: In ponds along the Skyline Trail in Olympic National Park, Cascades frog larvae are metamorphosing from gilled, tailed, beaked larvae to lung-breathing, tailless, wide-mouthed frogs. As you might imagine, it's an "awkward age," and many succumb to predation. But plenty of the little frogs survive, and populations in the Olympics appear to be healthy.
September 12, 2020: Sooty grouse forage on blueberries on a smoky day along the Skyline Trail in the southwestern Olympic Mountains. As we watch the grouse family, a black bear arrives to share in the succulent feast. We slowly retreat down the trail, where we soon discover an adult grouse eating mountain-ash fruits, followed by another one plucking blueberries. Some of the prodigious blueberry crop finds its way into our lunch.
September 12, 2009: To my palate, the best-tasting blueberries in the Olympic Mountains are those that grow on plants only a few inches high. This year, they provide bountiful meals for wildlife and delicious snacks for backpackers. The fruits look especially attractive against the season's crimson foliage, clonal patches of which stand out dramatically among other mountain-meadow plants (bottom photo, September 13, 2015).
slug-grazed mushroom
September 11, 2013: It's a tremendous year for late-summer mushrooms around Glacier Peak. As we backpack around the magnificent volcano, I'm tempted to say that the abundance and biomass of fungal fruit bodies must be an "Olympic record," but alas we are in the Cascades! Many mushrooms have been nibbled by rodents or grazed by gastropods (slugs, snails).
September 11, 2007: Today's search for riparian life along the Duckabush River in The Brothers Wilderness (Olympic Mountains) yields the top prize—an adult male coastal tailed frog, which happens to be one of the world's most unique amphibians (see September 28 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
September 10, 2020: Feeding by Cascades frog larvae yields a "honeycomb" pattern in fine, pond-edge sediments (North Fork Quinault River drainage, Olympic Mountains). See also August 25 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
September 10, 2020: In the western Olympic Mountains, some white-flowered rhododendron leaves show intriguing yellowish patches. This is not simply the beginning of normal autumn color change such as we see in bigleaf maples. The color change results from infection by a fungus, likely Exobasidium burtii. I've seen similar patches, with fuzzy edges (apparently still expanding), in late August (photo below). The infection seems to cause the breakdown of chlorophyll and consequent exposure of carotenoid pigments. This is not something new; botanists reported it well over 100 years ago.
September 10. 2014: A painted lady in such exquisite condition must have just emerged from its pupa. Here along the Skyline Trail in Olympic National Park, painted ladies will die off with the autumn arrival of cold weather, though possibly some individuals will move southward before they perish. The painted ladies that we’ll see here next year will the descendants of those that survived winter somewhere to the south, beyond the usual freeze zone. Abundance in the Pacific Northwest varies greatly from year to year.
September 9, 2009: Upper: Western varnished conk (west coast reishi) (Ganoderma oregonense) decomposes dead conifer wood and sometimes parasitizes injured living conifers. The attractive fruit bodies grow in one season rather than over multiple years. Lower: Chicken-of-the-woods (Laetiporus coniferticola), associated with mature and old-growth trees, also breaks down dead conifer wood and commonly attacks live conifers. Both: Quinault River drainage, Olympic Peninsula. On this rainy day in lowland rainforest, the ground was hopping with many western toads, coastal tailed frogs, and northern red-legged frogs (see September 9 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
September 9, 2006: At night, an adult crane fly clings to a twig in a lowland forest. The adult stage of the life cycle is short, often just a few days, during which time the leggy insects mate and lay eggs. Adults look like overgrown mosquitos but do not bite. Most crane fly larvae live in flowing or standing water, including associated wet sand, mud, algae, or soggy decaying plant material. Some live in moist soil. They feed mostly on rotting vegetation or plant roots; a few are predatory.
September 8, 2020: A slug- and snail-eating beetle (Scaphinotus) scurries along a trail near Big Creek in the southwestern Olympic Mountains. These predatory beetles are common throughout the Olympics. I've seen many scavenging slugs, and one that eluded my camera had a smooth-skinned caterpillar in its jaws.
September 8, 2018: Hermaphroditic banana slugs copulate (exchange sperm) in a wet spot in a lowland forest. If the mating is successful, each slug later will lay eggs that were fertilized by the other slug. Thus each individual can function both as a father and a mother. Not a bad arrangement, eh?! August 29 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
September 8, 2013: Pileated woodpeckers demolish the top of a rotting red alder snag in a lowland forest on the Olympic Peninsula. They send fragments and large chunks of wood and bark down to the ground as they excavate, pausing now and then to feed on something I cannot see in the difficult lighting. In similar situations, I've seen these spectacular woodpeckers extract and eat large beetle larvae (see September 25 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
September 8, 2010: Flocks of arctic-nesting sanderlings have become a common sight along Salish Sea shores. They will remain so through next spring. Sanderlings often feed on broad, wave-swept sandy beaches, but they also forage on cobble/gravel shores and among mats of algae (see also March 3 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). In the bottom photo, note the absence of a hind toe (present in other sandpipers). This is thought to facilitate running on sandy shores. The sanderlings shown here are undergoing a molt that will result in a pale gray, "bleached-out" upper side by late October.
September 8, 2009: In lowland forests of the Olympic Peninsula, Douglas squirrels have a tight connection with Douglas-firs (see September 3, 2024, below). The squirrel shown here dropped the cone and proceeded to cut more cones from the same tree.
September 7, 2018: Among the many reasons to exclude deermice and other rodents from buildings is their tendency to harbor parasites that can transmit diseases to humans. The photo shows a tick on the neck of a deermouse, in the fur of which I found several fleas. Deermice also are the most common carrier of the pathogen that causes hantavirus pulmonary syndrome, a potentially fatal infection usually contracted by inhaling airborne hantaviruses from rodent urine, droppings, or saliva.
metamorphosing Cascades frog
newly metamorphosed Cascades frog
adult Cascades frog
September 7, 2014: We find numerous metamorphosing, newly metamorphosed, and adult Cascades frogs along a pond edge at 4,700 feet in the Olympic Mountains. In many ponds at higher elevations, Cascades frogs are still in the large tadpole stage.
September 6, 2024: Near Port Townsend, carrion beetles remain active and attracted to decaying animal matter (required for reproduction). These and several others colonized a bucket of smelly three-day-old Dungeness crab remains (see August 14, 2024, below). One of the beetles lacks orange marks on the wing covers; the small orange nubs on it are symbiotic mites (see August 18 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
September 6, 2014: Though the fat red globes on this willow leaf look like fruits, they are in fact galls caused by the willow leaf gall sawfly, a hymenopteran insect related to ants, bees, and wasps. A gall forms where the female sawfly inserts an egg into the young leaf tissue. The sawfly larva feeds and develops in the gall, then later exits, drops to the ground, and pupates. Upper Elwha River drainage, Olympic Mountains.
September 6, 2014: Upper: A cluster of Pholiota mushrooms (probably shaggy scalycap, P. squarrosa) has emerged from a rotting log. This fungus breaks down dead wood, and it is also reported to be sometimes parasitic, attacking trees weakened by injury or infection. Shaggy scalycap is potentially poisonous...do not eat!
Lower: Dyer's polypore parasitizes the roots and lower portion of living conifers, and it also decomposes dead wood. This "butt-rot" fungus degrades cellulose, weakens the wood, and makes the tree more vulnerable to breakage. It can be used to dye wool.
Both: Along the Elwha River in the Olympic Mountains.
September 5, 2024: It's time for another visit to Fort Worden State Park, where my first stop is the Marine Science Center pier. I've heard that the red-footed booby is still in the area (see August 8, 2024, below), so I look around. Sure enough, there it is, on the top of some pilings. I suppose the novelty of this errant bird has worn off a bit after more than a month—I'm the only one paying any attention to the handsome sojourner. For most of the hour that I watch, the booby meticulously preens its plumage, seemingly feather by feather. As before, it occasionally opens its bill without vocalizing. Overall, it looks healthy and comfortable in this area, despite being so far from "home." For an account of red-footed boobies in the region—past, present, and future—see the excellent article by Stephen C. Hampton, Rainshadow Journal, September 2, 2024.
September 5, 2014: We discover two Olympic torrent salamanders under small rocks in a steep rivulet in the Hayes River drainage, Olympic National Park. I coax a large adult onto an adjacent mossy rock for a few photos, then return it to the water. This species occurs only on the Olympic Peninsula, and its three close relatives are confined to the Pacific Northwest. Olympic torrent salamanders are fairly numerous in many cold, clear, flowing seeps and rivulets with small pools and lots of shade. Metamorphosed individuals sometimes stray into adjacent wet areas. Torrent salamander adults have tiny lungs and breathe primarily through their skin. This species was first made known to science in 1917 by Helen Thompson Gaige, a pioneering female herpetologist.
September 4, 2018: A northern flicker probes beneath a cobble on the upper shore of the Salish Sea, well above normal high tide level. Tongue and throat movements indicate that the flicker is feeding. Occasionally a small ant scurries from the ground, but the bird pays them no heed. Probably the flicker has found a good concentration of ant eggs/larvae/pupae. See also August 22, 2021, below.
September 4, 2018: With open, drooped wings, a great blue heron exposes its breast and underwing feathers to the sun on a warm afternoon at the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. The heron periodically uses its bill to preen the exposed plumage. Heating the feathers in this way likely mobilizes ectoparasites (feather lice) and facilitates their removal during preening. It can also kill them outright as temperatures rise above their tolerance level. Meanwhile, the heron regulates its internal temperature by opening the mouth, extending the long spike-like tongue, and fluttering the throat, all of which increase evaporative cooling. John James Audubon observed drooped-wing sunbathing in herons nearly 200 years ago.
September 4, 2018: A female leafcutter bee brings a leaf fragment to her nesting burrow in Port Townsend. The leaf is not food but rather construction material (see September 4 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
September 4, 2007: A juvenile glaucous-winged gull relentlessly begs to be fed. Ignored by its parent, it then gives me a try! I can't decide whether the young gull is naïve to believe that I might feed it or if it is a quick learner and already knows that people are a potential food source. Either way, I decline to regurgitate my lunch for the hungry youngster.
September 3-4, 2014: Upper: An adult Olympic marmot vocalizes plaintively as it watches a departing golden eagle that has just swooped down and grabbed a juvenile marmot in a meadow in the Olympic Mountains. The eagle flew 15 feet over our heads with the struggling marmot as we stood with our mouths open!
Middle and Lower: A meadow inhabited by Olympic Marmots near Grand Pass is being colonized by subalpine fir. In the absence of wildfire or other changes that stall or eliminate the encroaching conifers, this area eventually will become unsuitable for the meadow-dependent marmots.
September 3, 2024: Upper: A Douglas squirrel cuts Douglas-fir cones and lets them fall to the ground. In this lowland forest, cone harvest has proceeded at a leisurely pace over the past couple of weeks. A few miles away, each of several scattered Douglas-firs has more than 100 squirrel-cut cones on the ground beneath them (September 18, 2024, update: These trees now have more than 200 cones beneath them.) In some years, significant cone cutting occurs as early as mid-June. Squirrels harvest and store cones while they are still closed. See See June 16, August 16, and September 8 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
Despite the ongoing squirrel harvest, large numbers of cones remain in the treetops, where they don't go unnoticed by red crossbills. The crossbills use their unique bill to pry apart the cone scales and access the seeds. This applies to newly mature closed cones as well as older, open cones that still hold seeds (e.g., I saw crossbills take Douglas-fir seeds from the previous year's cones in early June). Crossbills also regularly land on the ground to take seeds from fallen cones (not observed today).
Lower: early September 2007: Douglas-fir holds newly mature closed cones and open cones from last year.
September 1, 2023: In a lowland forest clearing, a northern red-legged frog forages out in the open next to a pile of stacked firewood which it seems to use as a refuge. When I pick up the frog (a subadult male), it releases fluid from its bladder and emits several series of rapid grunts.
September 3, 2016: Western flycatchers are common spring-summer breeders in forests throughout most of the Pacific Northwest. In August, many depart their nesting territories, and sightings drop off considerably. Now, in early September, we're mildly surprised to see one, as most have begun their southward migration to wintering areas in Mexico. In fact, this individual, photographed in Port Townsend, is foraging in a habitat not used for nesting. Where was it in June-July? Did it come from a nearby nesting area (northeastern Olympic Peninsula), or has it migrated from afar, perhaps as far north as southeastern Alaska or southern Yukon? A scant few western flycatchers linger in the Pacific Northwest into early autumn.
Early September, 2011, 2014, 2019: Aplodontias ("mountain beavers") have cut assorted plants and laid them out next to their burrows in Olympic National Park. After the plant cuttings are sufficiently wilted (but not dry), they will be stored in the burrow for later consumption. Aplodontias use dry vegetation to create a snug nest lining.
The diet of this unique mammal varies widely with location. In some lowlands, seasonal favorites include sword fern, red alder foliage, and the new growth of coniferous trees. In summer and early fall in the mid-elevation Olympic Mountains, vegetation deposited outside the burrows includes a wide variety of herbaceous plants, often including lupine and occasionally ferns and false hellebore. Consumption of lupines and false hellebore is notable in that these contain alkaloids that can be poisonous to humans, livestock, and certain other mammals. Aplodontias sometimes climb into alders and small maples to harvest the leaves.
Note also that aplodontias routinely remove large rocks from their burrows.
In the photo below, we see used nest material that an aplodontia has removed from its burrow. Presumably the nest became unacceptably soiled or flea-infested and will be replaced with fresh material.
September 2, 2009: Pacific treefrogs bask on salal leaves a few feet apart in a lowland forest opening, far from the nearest pond or lake. At this site, basking is common in summer and ceases by the autumnal equinox. In nearby upland forest sites, treefrogs have been calling periodically over the past week, often near the ground in thickets or among sword ferns. In most years, calling during the nonbreeding period continues regularly through the autumn months. See May 26 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
September 1, 2010: In late afternoon. a fledgling (left) and adult female (right) purple martin perch on a nest box at Fort Worden State Park. Will this be their last day here? Within the next week or two, virtually all purple martins from breeding sites in the Pacific Northwest will depart southward toward their winter range in South America, with most ending up in southeastern Brazil or Amazonia. The adult made the migratory trip last year, but the fledgling is about to embark on a very long journey over completely unfamiliar terrain—about 6,700 miles by the shortest route! Purple martins migrate in daylight, usually travel in groups, and use large communal roosts at night, so juveniles potentially could make the grand passage in the company of experienced adults.
purple martin fledgling
August 31, 2009: In its summer plumage, a male white-tailed ptarmigan blends beautifully with its rocky alpine habitat in the Washington Cascades. Most often, we notice these cryptic birds only when they move. In winter, the completely white plumage similarly blends with the snowy landscape. The native range of white-tailed ptarmigan in the Pacific Northwest includes the Cascades but not the Olympic Mountains—a high-elevation pattern also seen in American pika and mountain goat. Photo: H. Lappetito.
(tall) Oregon-grape
Cascade barberry (dull Oregon-grape)
August 30, 2011: I crush a ripe fruit of Oregon-grape and Cascade barberry, expecting the similar fruits to look the same inside. But they differ dramatically in the color of the juice and number of seeds.
August 30, 2009: A young Douglas squirrel explores a lowland forest edge on its own today. Sometimes mothers and their several young remain loosely together through autumn, but no other squirrels are evident right now. This youngster was born probably in late spring and first emerged from its mother's nest when several weeks old (perhaps this month). It's hard to be precise and definitive because the timing of the reproductive cycle in Douglas squirrels is quite variable. One reason is because reproduction strongly reflects food supply. A bumper crop of cones is usually followed by a bumper crop of baby squirrels. In these food-rich situations, virtually all adult females produce young, some females may produce two litters in a single year, and young females may produce a litter in the year of their birth. When conifer cones are scarce, few females produce young, and breeding may be delayed. The norm (if there is one) in most areas seems to be that females produce one litter annually beginning in their second calendar year.
August 29, 2024: I love my new "wrist wasp." After a logging operation near Port Townsend, a female horntail (Urocerus californicus) stutter-steps over the ground. I coax her onto my hand and manage a photo as she moves onto my wrist. Then she flies off and alights on a Douglas-fir log (middle photo). Male and female horntails have a spiny projection at the end of the abdomen. Below the spine, females additionally have a long, slender ovipositor, used to insert eggs in trees (at this site, likely Douglas-fir), where the larvae feed and digest wood with the aid of symbiotic gut-dwelling fungi. This horntail looks capable of delivering a walloping sting, but she's harmless. September 1, 2024, update: A few of these big horntails have been flying in and around the logged area the past few days. The female horntail in the bottom photo spent the night in a pile of freshly cut and split wood. In the cool of the morning, she exhibited pulsating abdominal movements for a few minutes before taking flight. Even in warmer conditions in the afternoon, these robust insects sometimes appear to have difficulty in getting airborne.
August 29, 2022: Common trees at La Crosse Pass (elevation 5,566 feet) in the eastern Olympic Mountains include mountain hemlock (photos) and subalpine fir. Today, mountain hemlocks are loaded with fresh purple cones, and some still hold older cones (now dry and open). On the ground, we find cones from previous years, including remnants from those processed by Douglas squirrels (at left in lower photo). A squirrel can obtain several dozen seeds from a single cone, and mature trees can produce more than 1,000 cones in a single year. However, as in many conifers, cone production varies among years (occasional years with few or no cones), so squirrels regularly face a "boom or bust" food supply.
August 29, 2019: A juvenile horned lark gives us a look as we amble through its treeless high-country habitat along a high ridge near Elk Mountain in Olympic National Park. Short herbaceous vegetation and bare ground dominate the lark's domain. Horned larks favor such areas throughout their range, from low-elevation deserts and coasts to high plains and alpine tundra. As we watch, the young bird soon resumes foraging on the ground, perhaps not far from where its parents nested earlier this year. Though nondescript now, the juvenile is undergoing a late-summer molt that will yield the more distinctive adult plumage. See July 8 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
Late August-early September 2018-2019: Big, animated, companionable, and often approachable, greater yellowlegs provide great opportunities to study shorebird behavior. Kah Tai Lagoon, Port Townsend. See also July 25, 2021, below).
August 28, 2014: It looks a bit like doe-fawn role reversal, but of course this adult female black-tailed deer is simply licking and grooming her 3-month-old fawn as they pause in a lowland forest opening near Port Townsend. The mother still has her summer coat, but the fawn is well along in its seasonal molt; the spotted neonatal pelage remains only on the shoulders and hips. In this region, deer molt their hair in late summer (mainly August-September) and again in spring (April-May), Note that the forest floor has a liberal scattering of recently fallen leaves of red alder (see August 3, 2024, below).
Mourning doves perch on a boatyard fence after visiting a Salish Sea shore.
August 27, 2024: I'm happy to see native mourning doves in a situation where I've usually been seeing non-native Eurasian collared-doves. Like the latter, the mourning doves visit a Salish Sea shore to ingest grit and perhaps green algae. The dove with the white edges on its feathers is a juvenile from this year, likely "learning the ropes" with its parent. See August 14, 2024, below).
August 27, 2013: In August, a mixed flock of least and western sandpipers scooting between foraging sites is a common sight at the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. During this part of the migration season, an impressive diversity of shorebirds uses this historically ill-treated (but still valuable) remnant of a formerly extensive tidal lagoon. Commonly occurring species include killdeer, greater yellowlegs, lesser yellowlegs, spotted sandpiper, western sandpiper, least sandpiper, short-billed dowitcher, long-billed dowitcher, and Wilson's snipe. Persistent birders searching for the unusual (or those endowed with good luck) sometimes come up with semipalmated plover, solitary sandpiper, whimbrel, marbled godwit, pectoral sandpiper, stilt sandpiper, buff-breasted sandpiper, Wilson's phalarope, red-necked phalarope, and others. The array of waterfowl (ducks, geese, swans) is even more impressive.
August 27, 2009: Upper: We peek beneath a thick slab of sloughed bark on the floor of the old forest at Fort Townsend Historical State Park and are rewarded with an ensatina salamander! Ensatinas here are brown or orange-brown on the upper side, with yellow on the top of the limb bases. Small juveniles are sprinkled with silvery flecks. See also April 24, 2024, below, and August 31 and September 21 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
Lower: We found this boldly marked ensatina—the same species as in the upper photo—in the southern Sierra Nevada of California. In fact, ensatinas are world renowned for their fascinating evolutionary history and extreme variations in color pattern across the geographic range, which extends from British Columbia to northern Baja California.
August 26, 2014: A Townsend's chipmunk fills its internal cheek pouches with harvested seeds as it forages in a lowland forest opening near Port Townsend. Sometimes the left and right pouches are both well filled; in the photographed chipmunk, the left pouch has more in it than the right. Periodically, the chipmunk disappears into the undergrowth and soon returns without the bulging cheeks. Chipmunks often store cheek-pouch contents for later use, but sometimes they eat seeds directly from the pouches. In addition to seeds, Townsend's chipmunks also consume fruits, plant bulbs, insects, and lots of fungi.
August 26, 2013: Young purple martins peer out of their nest box on the Salish Sea coast near Port Townsend. As I watch in mid-afternoon, the adult female delivers food and removes fecal sacs as the nestlings stay inside the box or poke their heads out as shown. This is a relatively late date for this stage of the nesting cycle. In some years/sites in the Pacific Northwest, purple martins fledge young by late July. But boxes in this location regularly contain nestlings through mid- to late August. In late August, food items brought to the nestlings include winged termites, damselflies, and dragonflies. After fledging, the young may be fed by their parents while perched outside the nest box into early September. For the first several days after the young begin flying, the adults and fledglings may return to the box to spend the night.
August 26, 2006: I find several Douglas-fir cones on the ground that have been descaled and the seeds eaten by a Douglas squirrel. The squirrel starts at the top (base) of the cone and work its way to the tip, generally discarding the cone with the last several scales still attached. A single cone yields several dozen seeds
August 25, 2022: Upper: In late afternoon, a black bear gives me a quick look as it moves between blueberry patches at the edge of La Crosse Basin in the eastern Olympic Mountains. Soon, in every direction we turn, we see one or more bears gorging on blueberries—an important resource for fattening up before winter. The foraging bears slow down when they find a berry-rich patch and move quickly through less productive areas. Lower: This 1-foot-wide pile of black bear dung is filled with blueberry seeds and skins, plus some leaves ingested incidentally with the fruits.
adult female sooty grouse (left) with a juvenile
another juvenile sooty grouse
August 25, 2022: An adult female sooty grouse and her well-grown young forage near Marmot Lake in the eastern Olympic Mountains. This time I get a better look at the juveniles (compare August 10, 2020, below).
August 25, 2014: Along the Salish Sea coast, non-native fennel flowers attract western yellowjackets (upper) and similar-looking European paper wasps (lower). Compared to yellowjackets, paper wasps are more slender, and their long rear legs dangle low below the body in flight.
European paper wasps were accidently introduced in the northeastern United States in the 1970s and have since spread across the continent, sometimes detrimentally affecting native paper wasps. They prey on caterpillars and other soft-bodied insects, including both native species and garden pests.
Both species construct paper nests out of wood fiber. Western yellowjackets nest in the ground, in walls, or other hidden spaces. European paper wasps make open-face nests in protected sites, such as under eaves, in attics, bird boxes, open pipes, or abandoned vehicles, etc. Many paper wasp nests have fewer than 100 cells but some exceed 400.
Yellowjackets and paper wasps defend their nests by stinging. Yellowjackets are notorious for their swarming, stinging attacks on nest disturbers, even when the disturbance is inadvertent, such as unknowingly stepping near or on a ground-nest opening. But I've watched many wasp/hornet nests at close range without being stung by using a slow, soft-stepping approach. Both species also sting defensively when their body gets compressed, such as when a wasp gets trapped between you and your car seat or clothing.
black turnstone
ruddy turnstone (juvenile, about 2 months old)
August 25, 2007: Along a shore of Port Townsend Bay, flocks of migratory shorebirds include commonly occurring sanderlings (few), short-billed dowitchers (few), black-bellied plovers (20), and black turnstones (150), plus a few juvenile ruddy turnstones (rarely seen here) mixed with the black turnstones. Black turnstones nest on Alaskan coastal tundra and migrate southward to wintering areas confined to coastal western North America (only as far as Mexico). Ruddy turnstones have a vast nesting range that spans northern North America and Eurasia, with migrations to the Southern Hemisphere. Some that nest on Alaskan tundra winter along the coast of western North America, while others end up on islands in the southwestern Pacific Ocean or as far south as Australia. Some legs of the journey involve fantastic nonstop transoceanic flights of thousands of miles.
August 24, 2020: Fringed grass-of-Parnassus is flowering in a wet glade in the upper Duckabush River drainage (Olympic Mountains), Odd-looking flowers usually have a "hidden agenda." Why are the five petals so distinctly fringed? Between the petals are slender fertile stamens (pollen-bearing parts); there should be five but one is missing. When fresh, they extend upright, but these have already shed their pollen. The fat object at center is the developing fruit, next to which are shiny, lobed structures known as staminodes (sterile stamens). The staminodes resemble (but do not contain) drops of nectar and may attract bees and flies. The veins on the petals undoubtedly stand out boldly to bees and other insects that can see ultraviolet light. These "nectar guides" converge on and lead insects to the "fake nectar." So the flowers appear to employ a bit of trickery to ensure pollination. But again, what is the role of those petal fringes? I'll have to spend more time with these flowers next time!
August 24, 2006
August 8, 2020
August 15, 2008
August, multiple years: In August, we find ripe and ripening fruits of red baneberry in moist forests of the Olympic Mountains. In one form of this plant, the fruits ripen glossy white. The fruits and other parts of baneberry contain multiple compounds that if ingested by humans can cause severe (potentially fatal) physiological effects. The fruits are distasteful, so if eaten are likely to be spit out rather than swallowed. One bold experimenter reported that "the taste is most nauseous, bitter, puckery; indeed, several even more drastic adjectives might be applied with perfect truth." Despite this, the fruits or seeds are eaten by a wide range of wildlife, including thrushes, woodpeckers, grouse, deermice, chipmunks, squirrels, and voles.
Red baneberry flowers in spring and early summer. In the Olympic Mountains, I've seen flowers in May, June, and July (photo below).
red baneberry flowers, July 18, 2011
August 24, 2020: In the eastern Olympic Mountains, Douglas squirrels have started harvesting green Pacific silver fir cones. Squirrel-cut mature cones and their remnants are a regular sight along hiking trails in September.
Squirrels usually cut the twigs to which the cones are attached rather than biting into the cone pedicel. They allow the cones and attached twigs to drop to the ground and later retrieve them to eat the seeds (we found some completely descaled cones on the ground today). An average cone contains about 400 seeds. Presumably the squirrels store some of the cones before the latter begin the natural process of disintegration, but little information exists on storage of true fir cones by Douglas squirrels. [Douglas squirrels store many Douglas-fir cones, but Doug-fir is not a true fir, and its cones do not disintegrate.]
August 24, 2011: In Port Townsend, a fledgling glaucous-winged gull (hybrid) tries to figure out what to do with a crab obtained from a parent. It shakes the crab and eventually manages to detach and eat some of the legs. Earlier, on land, an adult gull regurgitated several fish as three fledglings stood close by. The young gulls leaned toward the fish, then surprised me by turning and slowly walking away without eating. When they were younger, they eagerly ate everything that their parents regurgitated. After the young refused the food, the adult reingested the fish pile, then flew to the water to vigorously wash its bill and mouth.
August 24, 2006: It's mating time for grasshoppers in the subalpine zone near Mount Townsend, eastern Olympic Mountains. The male is on top. Eggs laid in the soil by the female will overwinter. Adults die off with early frosts. The eggs hatch in spring. Nymphs develop in the warmer months, reach maturity, then mate in late summer, as seen here.
August 23, 2022: During a spell of warm, dry weather in a Douglas-fir/red alder forest, a slow drip from an outdoor water line provides a good place to rehydrate for a northern red-legged frog and three banana slugs. Occasionally, a Pacific treefrog shows up here, too. I decide to share the water and fix the leak later, after wet weather returns.
August 23, 2017: A quick strike into shallow tidal waters of the Salish Sea yields a Pacific staghorn sculpin for a great blue heron. However, as the heron begins to swallow its squirming prey, the fish becomes lodged in the bird's upper throat, most likely because the sculpin has erected the sharp, branched spines that project from the sides of its head. It takes the heron 1.5 minutes to get the fish moving down its long esophagus. Herons eat lots of sculpins, so swallowing them apparently is not an excessively painful ordeal.
August 23, 2010: A satyr comma rests on rhododendron foliage near Port Townsend. These common butterflies visit and sip nectar from various flowers, but when they land it is much more often on foliage, tree trunks, ground surfaces, human skin, or sweat-soaked objects (see August 24 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest; see also photo below).
Shouldn't this butterfly have 3 pairs of legs like other insects? Is it missing a pair? In fact, the front legs are vestigial, not readily visible, and not used for support. This arrangement applies to the several thousand members of the lepidopteran family to which this species belongs.
The butterfly photographed today is a member of the new generation of adults that began to emerge in July and may be seen as late as September and early October. Its larval stage most likely fed on stinging nettle (there's a small patch 100 feet away). Satyr commas of this generation overwinter and resume activity with sunny days in March (sometimes earlier), April, and May (the spring breeding season, after which they die). See June 1, 2014, May 20, 2011, and March 17, 2024, below.
August 24, 2020: A newly emerged satyr comma in pristine condition has its tongue applied to my sweaty shit near the upper Duckabush River in Olympic National Park.
August 22, 2021: Just above high tide level on a Salish Sea shore, a male northern flicker pauses a moment while using his stout bill to probe, peck, and pry into crevices of a big old driftwood log that harbors a termite colony, whose winged reproductive members are starting to emerge and take flight (in this locale, big swarms of flying termites often appear in early to mid-September). Periodically, the probing flicker appears to employ its long tongue. This is accompanied by swallowing movements. After a bout of perhaps satisfying feeding on something other than ants (standard fare when feeding on the ground), the flicker relaxes, sits down, and shows off his dapper "bowtie" (disheveled feathers that normally form a black crescent).
August 22, 2010: Upper: I arrive on Oak Bay (eastern Olympic Peninsula) at low tide and discover an adult peregrine falcon feeding on what appears to be a juvenile glaucous-winged gull (hybrid), evidently recently killed by the falcon. After 10 minutes, the falcon—seemingly sated—gives the carcass (at lower left) a last look as it walks away. Lower: Near the adult falcon, a juvenile peregrine falcon (presumably the adult's offspring) has been watching from driftwood, occasionally vocalizing. It's belly feathers are wet, so perhaps it was on the tidal shore feeding with the adult before I arrived. When the adult falcon takes flight, the juvenile looks up, watches it depart, and soon follows. After they exit the shore, I investigate. The uneaten gull remains include the neatly severed head, feet, and wings, plus numerous plucked feathers scattered downwind.
August 21, 2017: Before taking these photos, I ushered this northern alligator lizard from a sunny roadway where it was in danger of becoming a roadkill. Four years ago today, in the same location, an alligator lizard was run over shortly before I arrived, so today's "rescue" is gratifying. This is the time of year when we expect to start seeing recently born neonates. The size of today's lizard indicates that it was born last year.
You may see alligator lizards along forest edges or in adjacent clearings or rocky areas throughout much of the Pacific Northwest (but not the rainy west side of the Olympic Mountains). When these long-tailed reptiles move vigorously, their sinuous motion is rather snakelike. See also May 23 and September 24 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
August 21, 2010: An orange-crowned warbler—hatched this year—forages in black hawthorn shrubbery along a lowland forest edge near Port Townsend. The bird's scruffy appearance results from feather molt, as it replaces its juvenile body feathers with more durable plumage. You can see several growing, sheathed feathers (slender white objects) on the head. It takes about two months to complete the process. The southward migration of this species along the Pacific coast is underway, so we're uncertain whether this individual originated in a local nest or one farther north (many individuals molt in areas apart from the nesting area). If the warbler's migration is successful, it will likely end up in Mexico for the winter.
August 20, 2024: It's clear that one or more female deermice in a local lowland forest near Port Townsend have weaned their young. The juvenile mice are now intent on finding places to nest and find food, including our dwelling (despite my best efforts to exclude them). Over the past week, one of my indoor snap traps has caught small juveniles on five successive nights. This is a common pattern. I know that when I catch a juvenile I'm likely to catch several others in that trap on succeeding nights. No need to add bait to the trap, as fresh mouse scent is sufficient. In fact, over the years, I've learned that mouse scent is the best trap "bait" one can hope to have! I suspect that the deermice showing up now are siblings traveling loosely together or following each other's scent trails.
I appreciate the ecological importance and interesting behavior of deermice. To avoid killing the household intruders I sometimes employ live traps. I release the captured mice in a contiguous forest habitat a mile away. None of those that I've marked have returned to our dwelling. I place dead mice on the ground in front of a trail camera along a forest path, where they are almost invariably taken by ravens that have learned to check this spot for carcasses (usually roadkills that I've picked up). See March 23 and November 30 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
August 20, 2019: It's nap time for a greater yellowlegs at a lowland pond near the Salish Sea. I'm fairly close to the big shorebird, but it readily relaxes. Standing in the open on one leg, with the eyes closed and bill tucked under the folded wings probably is as relaxed and vulnerable as the bird can get. But it's part of a small flock, with many eyes to look for danger. Also, the birds have seen me here nearly every day for weeks, so my quiet arrival doesn't alarm them. Nevertheless, the birds remain alert and don't close their eyes for long, especially if they hear any sound out of the ordinary. And they monitor the skies overhead for potential threats from raptors (see August 20 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
August 19, 2021: A female leafcutter bee takes nectar and pollen from a gumweed flower along the Salish Sea coast. Unlike bumble bees and honey bees, she carries pollen on the underside of her abdomen rather than on her hind legs. See June 29, August 15, and September 4 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
August 19, 2011: Today's bicycle journey yields the usual assortment of small animals that have been killed by fast-moving vehicles, including this male blue-eyed darner. The huge compound eyes, each comprising up to 30,000 individual visual units (ommatidia), see in almost every direction and perceive a wide range of colors plus ultraviolet and polarized light. The dragonfly visual system processes information much faster than human capability.
The white arrow indicates the structures with which the male grasps the female's "neck" while mating. The yellow arrow shows the location of the seminal vesicle on the underside of the second abdominal segment. Before or during the mating ritual, the male curls his rear end downward and forward and transfers sperm from the genital orifice near the rear end of his abdomen to the seminal vesicle. The female obtains the sperm when her genital opening connects with the seminal vesicle and its penis.
August 19, 2010: I'm sitting beside the beautiful North Fork Quinault River in Olympic National Park enjoying the late afternoon sun. I pull off my jacket and set it beside me. Moments later, a bumble-bee-like robber fly buzzes in and decides my jacket is a good place to bask and watch for prey (on several occasions. robber flies have used me as a convenient basking/hunting perch). I'm already holding my camera, so I just lean over slowly and snap a couple of photos before the fly zooms off. Robber flies are full-time predators. They nab other insects, pierce them with their sharp beak, inject toxins and digestive enzymes, then suck out the nutritious juices. Unlike deer flies and horse flies, robber flies do not attack people, so they provide thoroughly enjoyable insect watching.
August 18, 2024: Cross orbweavers have now grown to a size that catches our eye, and in favorable lighting we see their beautiful orbs gleaming against dark backgrounds. These little predators, native to Europe, are well established in natural and altered habitats and near buildings throughout the Pacific Northwest and much of northeastern North America. They become especially conspicuous in September and October when the big mature females perch in their sizable webs (a spiraling line of sticky silk attached to radiating "spokes"). The immature female shown here has built her web between the leaves and stem of a bull thistle. August 25, 2024, update: The web on the bull thistle is gone, but nearby I discover a new orb web between two Douglas-fir tree trunks about 6 feet apart. It's larger than last week's web but rather messy (photo below).
August 18, 2018: In a lowland forest near Port Townsend, a fledgling Cooper's hawk emits high-pitched whistles ("eeeeeee-a") as it looks around and waits for a parental food delivery (soon forthcoming). The hungry hawk likely is one of those that fledged from a nest in a Douglas-fir tree about 200 feet away.
August 17, 2024: Douglas-fir trees near my home are loaded with new cones this year, after two years of cone scarcity. Red crossbills (also scarce during years with meager cone crops) have been a constant presence this summer as the abundant cones mature. They fly around the treetops, frequently giving their distinctive calls. Today, two crossbills on bare ground beneath Douglas-firs pick at and ingest pieces of grit that will aid in the internal breakdown of their seedy meals (see January 17 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). I couldn't get a photo of today's grit-eating crossbills, so I've inserted a photo of a female crossbill (young of the preceding year) engaged in the same behavior in January.
August 17, 2014: Thermoregulation Tactics: Upper: At the edge of a lowland pond on a warm afternoon, a striped meadowhawk assumes what odonatologists refer to as the "obelisk" posture on a warm afternoon. Aiming the abdomen toward the sun minimizes heat gain from solar radiation. Lower: As it faces away from the sun, the meadowhawk uses its wings to intercept and reflect some of the solar radiation that would otherwise fall on the thorax (location of the heat-generating flight muscles) (see July 28, 2007 below).
Striped meadowhawks deposit their eggs on mud or vegetated areas around the margins of fluctuating ponds and lakes. The eggs hatch after the area is flooded when frequent or heavy rains raise the water level at the end of the summer dry season.
August 17, 2014: Adult glaucous-winged gulls grab and gobble beakfuls of Pacific sand lance driven to the surface by underwater attacks of a rhinoceros auklet. Auklet feeding activity often yields easy meals for the highly opportunistic gulls (see June 20, July 10 & 27, and November 9 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
August 16, 2016: By mid-August, groups of gumweed flowers and their plentiful insect visitors become a frequent focal point for my observations of little wildlife. Today's photo shows a queen bumble bee, part of the new generation of queens and males recently produced in nests that started in spring. The new queen will feed, mate, and overwinter, then start her own nest next year. Her mother and all of this year's workers and males will die off by late summer or fall.
August 16, 2014: Western redcedar trees hold a new crop of cones. Each cone contains several seeds that may germinate in fall, winter, or spring, depending on when they disperse from the cone and on soil conditions. The seeds in these little cones may yield trees that grow 200 feet tall, attain a trunk diameter of 20 feet, and live beyond the year 3500! We can only hope that the future will be a place where western redcedars attain their full potential.
August 16, 2014: The new generation of adult oblique-lined tiger beetles that recently emerged sports glimmering iridescence and elegant, species-typical patterns. At this sandy lowland site, adult tiger beetles that overwintered begin activity in March. They mate, lay eggs in spring, then die off and become scarce by early summer. Adults that I've seen in June and into mid-July presumably are the remaining few of the generation that emerged back in March. Larvae from the eggs laid in spring overwinter and give rise to the adults that emerge in large numbers in August. The adults feed and remain active into the warm days of October, then hibernate for about 5-6 months. Hence, adults and larvae each overwinter once, and the full life cycle takes two years. The larval stage generally lasts a little longer than the adult stage. Update, August 19, 2024: The new generation of adult tiger beetles at this site makes its first appearance above ground today. None have been active here since June.
August 16, 2011: A female violet-green swallow departs from a nest box at Fort Worden State Park with a large fecal sac produced by one of her nestlings. As I watch for 45 minutes, both parents deliver food to the nest, but only the female removes fecal sacs, though not on every departure. This is a relatively late date for nestlings, so perhaps this is a renesting effort after an unsuccessful initial nesting attempt. August 19, 2011: Large nestlings are still being fed at the nest box opening (photo below).
black turnstone
surfbird
August 15, 2014: A black turnstone and surfbird forage on barnacle-covered rocks—one of their favorite nonbreeding habitats. The surfbird has just pulled a barnacle off the rock. The initial post-breeding migrations that bring "waves" of turnstones and surfbirds to the Pacific Northwest occur in mid-summer (well before "fall"). By mid-August, we see both species foraging along Salish Sea shores, where they were generally absent in June and early July. In most sites, black turnstones far outnumber and arrive earlier than surfbirds. The flocks of boldly patterned turnstones and larger but fewer surfbirds we see in August (photo below) resemble those that occupy the same areas in winter (see January 14 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
August 15, 2008: Hundreds (thousands?) of subalpine ponds throughout the Olympic Mountains support breeding populations of Cascades frogs. By mid-August, the ponds swarm with well-grown larvae that have developed from eggs laid a few months ago in spring. Most of the frog ponds also host breeding long-toed salamanders.
August 14, 2024: A pair of non-native Eurasian collared-doves is about to drop down to a Salish Sea shore. I've seen pairs fly between this shore and an adjacent semi-wooded developed area on many occasions. Today, they pick at grit and pieces of filamentous green algae. Ingested grit helps break down their seedy diet. I've also seen seed-eating goldfinches ingesting bits of green algae on this shore, so perhaps the nutrients in the algae complement those in the seeds. See August 18 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
August 14, 2024: An open bucket of scraps from Dungeness crabs that we caught and cleaned 48 hours ago is a magnet for multiple carrion beetles irresistibly attracted to the delectable (to the beetles) smell of animal decay. The beetles find it extremely difficult to climb the smooth vertical walls of the 5-gallon plastic bucket, so they must have flown in. None attempt to fly out of the bucket, so presumably the cuisine is satisfactory. I'm pleased to share our crab bounty not only with friends but also with these handsome insects, though I feel bad that the bucket and its contents won't serve the beetles as a suitable breeding site. Update, August 18, 2024, 9:14 pm: I still have the aromatic bucket of crab remains. It's been sitting outside in a forest clearing and now contains at least 19 carrion beetles, some of distinctly different sizes. Another is circling the bucket in a slow, buzzing flight. The beetles are proving me wrong about what constitutes an acceptable breeding habitat, as I peer into the bucket and discover that some are mating! But I don't think they can complete the life cycle in this highly artificial situation, so I decide it's time to discard the scraps, August 19, 2024, 7:30 am: I dump the crab scraps on the ground, wait for the beetles to crawl away, then reload the scraps for a trip back to the Salish Sea whence the succulent crustaceans came. See July 16 and August 18 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
August 14, 2017: A woodland skipper basks on a grass blade along a recreational trail in Port Townsend. The little butterflies are plentiful today in every grassy area and make frequent visits to nearby gumweed and assorted other flowers (they're not picky). They spent last winter as small caterpillars that resumed eating grasses (native and exotic) this past spring. Now we are in the mating and egg-laying season. See July 29 and August 17 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
August 14, 2014: An Oregon white oak acorn matures on a lowland tree near the Salish Sea. Adjacent to the large (one-inch long) acorn are two acorns that ceased development and failed to grow (not pollinated?). As in other members of the white oak group, Oregon white oak acorn development occurs in a single season. Flowers are wind-pollinated in spring. Acorns mature the same year from August to November, when many become food for wildlife ranging from weevils and deermice to deer and bears. Squirrels and jays harvest, eat, and store numerous acorns. Acorns buried by squirrels or jays have the best chance of successfully germinating and surviving. Initial above-ground growth is slow as the seedling develops a strong taproot. Oregon white oak is the only native oak in most of the Pacific Northwest. The northernmost stand is in British Columbia near the northern extent of the Salish Sea. The species ranges south to California, home to twenty different kinds of oaks.
August 13, 2019: American shrew moles—unique to the Pacific Northwest—forage day and night in burrows, along runways under leaf litter or wood, and above ground, and they are capable slow climbers and fast swimmers. This one is from a lowland forest near Port Townsend. Rarely I have found shrew moles walking in the open on forest trails; when approached, they head for cover. Tiny eyes, generally hidden in the fur, give them very poor vision at best (they may be absolutely blind), but they seem to be sensitive to ground vibrations and high-pitched sounds (they have hearing organs but lack external ear flaps). The shrew mole's premier sense organ is the prehensile, whiskered, touch-sensitive nose, often tapped on the ground as the mole moves along. Odors may play a role in social interactions, but shrew moles evidently make little use of smell when foraging. The little mammals (total length 4-5 inches) require lots of food, mainly earthworms, sometimes other invertebrates, lichens, fungi, or seeds. Deprived of food, they succumb to starvation in a matter of hours. Owls likely are the primary predator. See May 8 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
August 13, 2010: In the upper North Fork Quinault River drainage, west of the Low Divide in the Olympic Mountains, an adult cicada (probably Okanagana occidentalis) clings to a tree trunk. Compared to our experiences in eastern North America, where cicadas can be common and periodically superabundant, we've not often seen them here in the Pacific Northwest. They do appear every year but are more commonly heard than seen. Adult males produce a loud, continuous, high-pitched buzzing sound. The immature stages feed underground on plant roots. Photo: H. Lappetito.
August 13, 2010: Along the Skyline Trail in the southwestern Olympic Mountains, we're surprised to find Cascades frog embryos that have not yet hatched from their jelly containers. In many years, we see large free-swimming tadpoles by mid-August. Late-melting snow evidently delayed breeding this year. The green color in the jelly comes from symbiotic algae that use carbon dioxide and waste material produced by the embryos. In turn, the embryos benefit from oxygen produced by the photosynthesizing algae. Photo: H. Lappetito.
August 12, 2018: Upper: Greater yellowlegs, their bellies likely full of sticklebacks, start to doze off at the Kah Tai Lagoon. Two others relax a few feet away. Middle and lower: I leave the yellowlegs in peace and turn my attention to least sandpipers foraging close by. They probe rapidly into mud and algal mats, periodically ingesting items I cannot see. Today they forage very close to one another and to western sandpipers, with neither species displaying hostility toward other foragers (compare September 1 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). A close view allows us to appreciate the details of the least sandpipers' lovely color pattern.
August 12, 2009: Less than a mile from home, near Port Townsend, I discover another road-killed aplodontia (mountain beaver), 0.3 miles from where I found one last year (see July 6, 2008, below). The closeup photo shows the top of the left front foot, with four strong claws and a much shorter thumb. A local resident joins me as I examine the carcass and tells me that these "damn rats" come into his yard and eat his garden plants. I envy his good fortune in attracting these unique mammals.
Aplodontias and their nests harbor what is believed to be the world's largest flea (Hystrichopsylla schefferi). Humongous compared to the fleas normally found on dogs and cats, a female "giant mountain beaver flea" can reach a length of at least 0.3 inches (males are smaller). The big flea shown below, found on a road-killed aplodontia in August 2010, may be the giant species.
August 11, 2010: In a lowland forest opening, a beautifully striped and banded stiletto fly (Therevidae) poses nicely and declines to flee as I approach closely, so of course I must photograph it. About 95 percent of my photos of Diptera are of hover flies, so it's good to get a clear photo of a handsome fly from a different family to study and appreciate. (The hard-to-see fly held by the sand wasp photographed yesterday [see August 10, 2010 below] probably is a species of stiletto fly.) Adult stiletto flies feed on flower nectar and other sweet fluids. The wormlike larvae prey on small insect grubs or pupae in soil or decaying plant material.
August 10, 2020: An adult female sooty grouse keeps an eye on me as she escorts her two poults across a hiking trail through shrubby subalpine firs near Obstruction Point in Olympic National Park. She gives soft "ooh" calls as the young grouse emit high-pitched vocalizations. The juveniles sprint across the open area and elude my camera lens. Their wariness may be well founded. Likely some of their siblings have not survived, as hens generally lay 4-9 eggs and in successful nests nearly all eggs hatch. The juveniles may or may not stay with their mother beyond late summer. Grouse in this high subalpine habitat probably will move to forests at lower elevations to pass the winter.
August 10, 2010: In the Olympic Mountains, a black bear has stripped the bark from a subalpine fir and used its incisors to scrape off the nutritious cambium layer—perhaps an ursine delicacy before the blueberry crop ripens. See also September 16, 2011, above. Photos: H. Lappetito.
August 10, 2010: A female sand wasp begins to dig into her nesting burrow in sandy ground near sea level. Beneath her is a partially visible fly (paralyzed or killed by her sting) that will serve as food for her larval young in the burrow. She plugged the burrow opening before she went fly hunting but readily finds it when she returns with prey. After taking the fly inside the burrow, she plugs the burrow again after emerging. Nearby, several other females similarly carry at least four different kinds of flies into their separate burrows. See also August 10 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
August 10, 2006: Two feet tall and still growing, an attention-grabbing pinedrops plant adds a distinctly whimsical element to a shady forest floor in the eastern Olympic Mountains. Pinedrops is evolutionarily and ecologically related to ghost pipe and pinesap. It foregoes photosynthesis and instead obtains carbohydrates, other nutrients, and water by parasitizing a mycorrhizal fungus associated with the roots of conifer trees. The fungus and tree roots have a mutually beneficial relationship in which the fungus enhances the tree's uptake of water and minerals, while the tree provides the fungus with carbohydrates and other nutrients. Pinedrops taps into this relationship but provides nothing in return. Additionally, pinedrops can augment its nitrogen supply by digesting insects that get stuck on the sticky hairs that cover the plant. Pinedrops flowers sometimes attract bees and hummingbirds. The lowermost flowers open first, and flower maturation proceeds upward, with the uppermost flowers dangling as much as 4-6 feet above the forest floor.
August 10, 2006: Devil's club fruits are ripening near the Big Quilcene River in the eastern Olympic Mountains. The fruits attract birds, especially members of the thrush family, and bears, which can quickly consume enormous numbers of the densely crowded fruits. Many seeds pass through the birds and bears undamaged and are dispersed far and wide. Seeds deposited in bear scats—and those that simply fall from the plant to the ground—may be harvested by granivorous small mammals. These may be destroyed (eaten) or stored for later use.
August 10, 2006: Marmot Pass in the eastern Olympic Mountains is, of course, named for its population of Olympic marmots. Three well-grown juveniles emerged from a burrow near the adult shown in the photograph. Another burrow hosted two additional juveniles. See also August 10 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
yellow-cedar (aka Alaska-cedar or Nootka cypress), with a plentiful crop of maturing seed cones (see also November 26, 2015, above)
whitebark pine
lodgepole pine
August 10, 2006: Along the trail to Marmot Pass in the eastern Olympic Mountains, we find a classic assemblage of Pacific Northwest coniferous trees, including (roughly in order from lower to higher elevations) Douglas-fir, western hemlock, western redcedar, Pacific yew. western white pine, Pacific silver fir, yellow-cedar, lodgepole pine, subalpine fir, and whitebark pine. Deciduous woody species include red alder and Douglas maple, plus others more shrubby than treelike.
pipsissewa (Chimaphila umbellata)
August 10, 2006: Pipsissewa is a circumboreal evergreen plant commonly found on forest floors in the Pacific Northwest. It develops a woody stem and grows to about a foot tall. The flowers (often 2-15 per stalk) attract bumble bees and tiny rove beetles (close-up photo). Flowering peaks in July-August. Olympic National Forest, east of Marmot Pass.
August 9, 2020: A Clodius parnassian (butterfly) basks near the Gray Wolf River below Gray Wolf Pass in the eastern Olympic Mountains. Parnassians are famous among lepidopterists for the conspicuous, nearly foolproof "chastity belt" (sphragis, not visible here) males deposit on the female's genital opening while mating. The sphragis greatly reduces the likelihood that another male will be able to inseminate the female. Clodius parnassian caterpillars feed on the foliage of bleeding hearts and related plants.
August 9, 2019: I find migratory shorebirds aplenty today at the Kah Tai Lagoon, mostly least and western sandpipers (upper photo) and greater yellowlegs. As usual, the yellowlegs are eating sticklebacks (see July 25, 2021 below). The two sandpipers can probe deeply, but today they mostly insert the bill shallowly or pick items from the surface. I zoom in as much as I can, but the tiny food items are too small to identify (lower photo, western sandpiper).
August 8, 2024: It's a nice sunny day, so I decide to visit a local population of western fence lizards. As I expect, adults are basking on storm-cast driftwood above high tide level of this Salish Sea shore. The lizard in the photo has a good sunny perch protected from the cool breeze by an adjacent log. Maybe it picks off insects attracted to the adjacent gumweed flowers.
August 8, 2024: Next to the fence lizard, a group of gumweed flowers attracts a nice assortment of insects, including this hornet fly (Spilomyia, a wasplike member of the hover fly family). Resemblance to wasps is common among hover flies. I especially like this fly's magnificent eyes, which make it look less like a fly! Larval hornet flies reportedly develop in water-filled tree cavities or rotting wood.
August 8, 2024: Per my usual routine during visits to Fort Worden in Port Townsend, I steer my bicycle onto the pier, where I'm soon in for a big surprise. Among the throngs of Heermann's gulls roosting on the Marine Science Center roof is a red-footed booby, a tropical seabird far away from its usual range. Soon it becomes obvious that the word is out about this rare occurrence, as troops of birders lugging big spotting scopes and long camera lenses parade onto the pier. Some have driven for hours in hopes of seeing the booby. I don't regularly monitor rare bird alerts or go out of my way to see wayward birds. It isn't until later that I learn that the booby has roamed around the Salish Sea for more than a week, causing quite a stir among birders. For me. today's encounter with a red-footed booby—a species I last saw in the Galápagos Islands and on tiny islets in the Caribbean—is a delightful treat, all the more so for being a fortuitous incident during my everyday quest to observe the natural world close to home. Eventually the booby, evidently hungry, departs the roof, heads out over open water, and begins plunge-diving.
August 8, 2024: A stone's throw from the booby, a female river otter and her three pups come ashore for some intense "sand bathing," rolling and squirming vigorously in the sand and against each other for several minutes. This is a characteristic otter behavior and presumably important in keeping their fur in good condition. And it seems clear that they find it quite pleasurable! When people on the beach approach too closely, they retreat to the water. Later, they return for more sand squirming, only to be chased back into the water by people attempting selfies with the otter family.
August 8, 2020: I love the color coordination of this Pacific (western meadow) fritillary nectaring on a orange agoseris flower head near the West Fork Dosewallips River in Olympic National Park. The butterfly overwinters as a caterpillar, the diet of which is restricted to violets. In the Southwest, Indigenous people used orange agoseris to prepare a "lotion for protection from witches, " as a ceremonial emetic, to treat arrow or bullet wounds, and as a liniment for sore or swollen limbs or joints. Elsewhere, the leaves or root juice (latex) found use as a sort of pleasurable "chewing gum." The various (and sometimes seemingly incongruous) uses likely depended on the concentration (potency) of the preparation.
August 7, 2020: Olympic marmots survey a subalpine meadow from a rocky perch near Hayden Pass in the Olympic Mountains. When not absorbed in social interactions, they keep an eye out for coyotes and other predators. When it seems safe, they descend to nibble meadow plants. Today we find their tracks on the muddy edges of small pools from which they drink. Marmots have a short activity season lasting only 4-5 months. They spend most of their lives hibernating in the dark recesses of their burrows. Marmots have a relatively low rate of reproduction. Females generally are three years of age before they start breeding and thereafter do not produce a litter every year (fewer than half of the adult females produce young in a given year). Many Olympic marmots do not survive their first year of life, but some live into their teens.
August 6, 2020: "Elephant's-head" (Pedicularis groenlandica) is perhaps the most unique, memorable, and best-named wildflower of subalpine wet meadows throughout Pacific Northwest mountains (and beyond, to the Rocky Mountains and Greenland). The fantastic nectarless blooms depend on pollen-gathering bumble bees for pollination. Like other Pedicularis species, elephant's-head is partially parasitic on other plants. It has green leaves but thrives only if its roots establish parasitic connections to the roots of grasses or sedges. Olympic Mountains near Sentinel Peak.
,August 6, 2020: Western pasqueflower is another "Wow! Look at that!" plant in the subalpine zone of the Olympic Mountains. The hoary mop-top features are fruiting heads, from which numerous small, dry, one-seeded fruits disperse with the wind on feathery plumes. These develop from flowers that appear shortly after seasonal snow cover melts and exposes the ground.
Let's turn back the clock: In a year with long-lasting snow (2011, photos below), western pasqueflower near Marmot Pass in the eastern Olympic Mountains reaches its flowering peak in late July, at which point the plants are still well short of their full size.
August 5, 2020: On a moist slope near Lost Pass in the Olympic Mountains, an aplodontia (mountain beaver) burrow is surrounded by herbaceous plant cuttings destined for use as bedding or food. We see many examples of this along our backpacking route over the next several days.
August 5, 2020: Silky phacelia is a beautiful element of the natural rock gardens in the alpine and subalpine regions of the Olympic Mountains, such as here above Cameron Basin. The plants have a woody base and can live for many years in their relatively harsh habitats. Bumble bees are the most frequent flower visitors (there's one barely visible among the flowers shown here). Occasionally we see a yellow and black swallowtail butterfly nectaring on the purple-blue flowers—a stunning visual treat! Among the more subtle characteristics of silky phacelia are its potent defenses against herbivorous animals. The plants synthesize cyanide and store it as a toxic glycoside compound. Take a bite and get a mouthful of hydrogen cyanide! Additionally, silky phacelia acts as a hyperaccumulator of gold in soils containing that metal. Eating a plant with high levels of gold in its tissues has unpleasant physiological effects and can damage kidney and liver tissues. [Don't try to collect the plants for their gold. Some contain no gold, and physiological potency does not imply significant economic value!]
August 4, 2024: After delivering a dragonfly to a nestling, a male purple martin exits a nest box carrying a fecal sac produced by one of the large youngsters in the box. The martin flies about 100 feet before dropping the sac from a height of about 25 feet above the ground. The male's mate also stuffs food items into the gaping mouths of the young. From what I can see when the nestlings appear at the nest box opening, they'll soon be ready to fly.
August 4, 2020: Not all thistles are noxious weeds. This one, so-called edible thistle, is native to the Pacific Northwest from Southeast Alaska to Oregon. Mountain backpackers know it well, and in some places it occurs near sea level. After germination, the plants grow for two to several years, produce showy flowers that attract bumble bees; beetles; butterflies (western tiger, pale, and anise swallowtails; parnassians; and others); hover flies; and hummingbirds. After a one-season flower show, then plants die.
August 3, 2024: Red alder trees lose a significant percentage of their leaves in summer well before the main period of leaf fall that occurs in autumn. Presumably this dry-season response is a water conservation measure. The photo shows a representative selection of red alder leaves that recently fell from mature lowland trees in the absence of strong winds. Some are falling in a gentle breeze right now. The fallen leaves differ greatly in size, and they have lost varying amounts of their green chlorophyll (the constituent materials of which have been retrieved by the tree). Yellow carotenoid pigments are exposed where chlorophyll is absent. Clearly, many leaves fell while still retaining much chlorophyll. Alder leaves break down quickly and ultimately contribute nutrients to the soils in which the trees are rooted. Alder roots have nodules in which symbiotic bacteria convert gaseous nitrogen into a form that the alder can use.
August 3, 2019: Least (left) and western (right) sandpipers often rest and forage side-by-side at the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. Seen alone, western sandpipers look oh-so tiny. Then a least sandpiper arrives, and the westerns suddenly get big and chunky! Both species occur at this site (in small flocks) primarily during their southward migration (mainly late June through September). It's a good place to sit quietly and enjoy intimate encounters with sandpipers.
To see very large numbers of western sandpipers (up to hundreds of thousands in one day), go to the outer coast during peak migration season. Least sandpipers migrate in smaller flocks (up to a few hundred or occasionally a few thousand individuals).
Least and western sandpipers nest in northern North America (western sandpiper mainly in Alaska) and winter as far south as the northern half of South America, although many are much less itinerant and never leave North America.
August 2, 2024: 7:30 am: A northern red-legged frog forages along a lowland forest edge near deep shade and a moisture source, far from any pond or stream. Three years ago on this date I encountered a red-legged frog of similar size in exactly the same spot (photos indicate it was a different individual). Today, at noon, hoping to find the frog in a midday refuge, I peek under a piece of wood in the damp spot. Dang, no frog here, but I'm content to discover a gastropod hideout hosting seven small to very large banana slugs, each in its own moist nook. See also August 3 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
August 2, 2020: At post-breeding migration stops along Salish Sea shores, dowitchers provide identification puzzles—long-billed or short-billed? We look for subtle plumage characteristics that differentiate the two species and their age classes, all the while hoping to hear the distinctive vocalizations that more reliably tell us which species we're seeing. But we shouldn't focus too much on mere identification. With their overall good looks, highly animated foraging style, and intimate flocking behavior, dowitchers are exceptionally interesting and enjoyable to watch! What are they eating? How do the little flocks decide where to forage?
August 2, 2007: Columbia lewisia is at peak bloom among dry, "crunchy" mosses on open, gravelly, subalpine slopes in the eastern Olympic Mountains. Multi-flowered stems extend well above a basal rosette or cluster of succulent evergreen leaves, which at certain seasons may be loaded with red anthocyanin pigments (photo below) The flowers attract the usual gamut of potential pollinators, including bees, hover flies, beetles, and butterflies.
Columbia lewisia, early July, eastern Olympic Mountains
August 2, 2011: A pair of Pacific wrens in a lowland forest near Port Townsend has produced its second brood of the year. The first brood fledged in mid-May. I found an adult and two juveniles roosting together at night in late May. The juvenile shown here, along with several nestmates, fledged a couple of weeks ago.
August 1, 2024: I'm looking for newly emerged adult tiger beetles in a sandy lowland field but instead find my first mourning cloak (Carolina) grasshopper of the season. The grasshopper nymphs have been around and growing for several weeks, but it's easy to overlook them until they mature and start flying. Today is typical—I don't see this magnificently cryptic insect until it takes flight and shows off its black, yellowish-bordered wings. For a moment, it does look like a mourning cloak butterfly. Then it lands, and poof, it's gone!
August 1, 2024: As I ride my bike along the Larry Scott Trail in Port Townsend, I notice tiny tufted seeds floating in the air and soon discover the source. A patch of creeping thistle that was covered with a pink-purple haze of flowers two weeks ago is starting to release its plumed seeds to the wind. The seeds dispersing now may germinate next year if they land in a suitable habitat. New plants can grow to maturity, flower, and produce seeds in a single season. Thereafter the plants tend to proliferate as clonal colonies (see July 17, below).
August 1, 2014: A male belted kingfisher gives his wings a stretch as he checks out the fishing opportunities from a Salish Sea pier railing. He's part of a loose group of kingfishers that includes juveniles that sometimes follow him when he changes locations, no doubt hoping to be fed. But some juveniles were already catching small fish two weeks ago, so his parental duties are essentially over until next year. His eye looks dull because it is momentarily covered by the nictitating membrane, which moistens and cleans the eye and protects it during dives into the water and when the bird holds a thrashing fish.
Let's look back to mid-July. A juvenile female belted kingfisher just caught a threespine stickleback in a small pond at the Kah Tai Lagoon. She was fed by her parents for a week or two after leaving her natal burrow in a bluff about 0.7 miles from here. This might be her first-ever fish capture!
August 1, 2007: Shortly before sunset, a rhinoceros auklet stretches its wings after "supersizing" its forthcoming meal delivery to its offspring on Protection Island. Nearby, other auklets similarly hold one large and multiple smaller fish destined for their single nestlings. It takes an intense burst of energy to take off while carrying a load of this size. See July 25, 2010, below.
July 31, 2023: In pursuit of appealing photos, photographers usually refrain from presenting images of scruffy subjects. Nevertheless, I must show you today's photos of golden-crowned kinglets in a puddle, simply to illustrate just how disheveled and soggy bathing birds can get. Among the many puddle-bathing songbirds I've watched, golden-crowned kinglets seem to get especially bedraggled and wet. Perhaps that's because most of my observations have been in July and August when the birds are molting. Then again, late September bathers get pretty drenched as well (below).
golden-crowned kinglet bathing, September 28
hydaspe fritillary
hover fly
July 31, 2018: The colorful flowers of showy fleabane in meadows along the Dungeness River in the eastern Olympic Mountains provide good landing platforms for nectar-seeking butterflies and hover flies. This native wildflower is widespread in the Pacific Northwest and Rocky Mountains. Hydaspe fritillaries inhabit moist areas across much of the same region, where violets provide food for the caterpillars. The life history of the hover fly in the lower photo is a mystery to me.
July 31, 2014: The Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend occasionally yields good opportunities to see greater (left) and lesser (right) yellowlegs foraging together, especially in July-August but sometimes into October. The birds shown here migrated from nesting areas in Alaska or western Canada.
bumble bee on ragwort flowers
tansy ragwort
bee carcass on ragwort foliage
July 30, 2019: The flowering period of tansy ragwort (or simply ragwort, Jacobaea vulgaris) extends over several months, with a peak in July. Near Port Townsend, I've seen plants still blooming in December. The nectar-rich flowers attract a wide range of insects, including bees, hover flies, moths, and butterflies. Crab spiders sometimes lurk among the flowers and prey on visiting insects, whose carcasses sometimes appear on the foliage below the flowers.
This is yet another all-too-common noxious weed on which we see native pollinators. Native to Eurasia, it is a quick colonizer of lowland roadsides, pastures, and other disturbed areas, where it outcompetes and displaces native vegetation. Additionally, ragwort contains alkaloids that have toxic effects on horses and cattle (though livestock generally avoid eating it). Accordingly, it's best to eradicate ragwort and encourage pollinators to visit native plants!
July 29, 2024: After four weeks of incubation, the three glaucous-winged gull eggs in the nest on the concrete platform at Point Hudson have hatched (within the past 48 hours) (see July 3-4 below). Two of the baby gulls stand up and walk a bit, but they lack strength and coordination and frequently stumble.
In the middle and lower photos, one parent brings a single small, slender fish (perhaps a tubesnout) to the nest. Its brooding mate grasps the fish, and the two gulls engage in a "tug-of-war" to tear it into little pieces that the baby gulls can easily ingest.
August 1, 2024 update: Both adults are sitting on the platform a few feet from the nest, but all three of the baby gulls are gone. A sad observation: one of the adults, vocalizing loudly, walked to the nest and peered into it for a long moment, then walked away.
July 29, 2007: Finding a seabird carcass on the beach is unfortunately not a rare event and not necessarily cause for alarm. But it's definitely disturbing when we discover a debilitated beached bird that is not yet dead, as is the case for this adult common murre on the Strait of Juan de Fuca. In recent decades, mass die-offs of marine birds have occurred in the northeastern Pacific Ocean following marine heat waves (ocean warming events) and associated changes in food resources. Mortality events have also resulted from disease outbreaks and toxic and non-toxic harmful algal blooms. With ongoing climate warming and changes in ocean conditions, do we face a future with frequent die-offs and permanently reduced seabird populations in the Pacific Northwest? And how will myriad other marine species respond?
July 29, 2007: A river otter emerges from the Strait of Juan de Fuca, crosses a tide-exposed shore of the Olympic Peninsula, then without hesitation ascends three steep flights of wooden stairs to arrive at the back door of a bluff-top house, where it proceeds to drink out of a pet's water bowl. I have the distinct impression that it has done this before!
July 29, 2008: A large banana slug spends at least 15 minutes gliding over a clump of recently emerged ghost pipes in a mature lowland forest (Quimper Wildlife Corridor). At one point, it does a sharp U-turn and appears to investigate its own rear end, where some conifer needles and other plant bits adhere. Otherwise, it just keeps moving slowly over the pallid plants. To humans, ghost pipes have little or no odor, but banana slugs have a keen sense of smell and perhaps find them worthy of gustatory exploration. But this slug usually has its head up and never appears to feed. I try to figure out what's going on, but I'm stumped.
July 28, 2007, July 30, 2014: The wings-forward posture of perched dragonflies on warm, sunny days is thought to be involved in body temperature regulation. As these cardinal meadowhawks face away from the sun, the wings may somewhat shade and reduce solar warming of the thorax (location of the flight muscles). I've seen this behavior many times at this pond-edge site in Port Townsend in July, August, and early September.
July 28, 2012: I stop my bike near Port Townsend to examine a tiny roadkill that turns out to be a moth caterpillar being scavenged by western thatching ants. The ants—builders of big nest mounds—are beneficial native insects that prey on small invertebrates and frequently scavenge dead animals. It's interesting to imagine the process by which an ant discovers a succulent item like this and subsequently deposits a pheromone trail that other members of the ant colony follow to reach the carcass. Unfortunately, the trail leads the ants onto a paved road where the prospects for a successful carcass harvest are not very good.
Next I find a spotted towhee freshly dead on the road. Like many bird roadkills at this time of year, it is a recent fledgling. An adult towhee vocalizes plaintively in the thicket near the carcass.
July 28, 2007: In Port Townsend, an adult white-crowned sparrow (left) tries to ignore a begging brown-headed cowbird fledgling (right) that follows it wherever it goes. The cowbird's biological mother laid an egg in the sparrow's nest, and the sparrow pair raised the cowbird as if it were their own offspring. Soon the cowbird—no longer fed by the sparrows—will go off on its own or join other young cowbirds as it learns to fend for itself. See June 8 & 15 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
July 28, 2007: A Lorquin's admiral inserts its long tongue into a tiny pink flower of common snowberry in a lowland thicket. These flowers more often attract bees and wasps. The butterfly's caterpillar stage likely fed and developed on the willows that grow abundantly at this site.
July 28, 2007: We can add bull thistle to the noxious weeds that attract native insects, such as this western tiger swallowtail (upper) amd bumble bee (lower). The larval stages of the faded, worn swallowtail likely fed on the foliage of nearby willow or black cottonwood. See also July 17 below.
Bull thistles thrive in open disturbed areas. They often grow as biennials, forming a basal rosette of robust spiny leaves the first year and sending up a tall flowering stalk the next year. Sometimes the flowering stalk grows the first year. A first-year thistle that I measured attained a height of 6.5 feet and boasted an array of 19 incipient flower heads by mid-July, at which point someone knocked it over. Soon thereafter, purple flowers emerged from some of the heads as the plant lay prostrate on the ground. A few feet away, another bull thistle merely formed the basal rosette and did not flower. Both thistles appeared in 2024 after the site was heavily disturbed by construction equipment in 2023. No thistles had grown on this several-acre mostly forested tract for at least 17 years.
July 27, 2020, 2:54 pm, 72° F: A 13-inch-long male northwestern gartersnake pauses on a warm dirt road near Port Townsend after swallowing a banana slug. The slug, swallowed head-end first, was thicker and much longer than the snake's head—a characteristic of many ingested prey items. Moist-skinned animals such as slugs, snails, earthworms, and amphibians make up a large part of the snake's diet.
July 27, 2007: This is the dry season here on the northeastern Olympic Peninsula, so it's intriguing to see newly emerged mushrooms, such as these skullcap dapperlings (Leucocoprinus brebissonii) on the forest floor at Fort Townsend Historical State Park. Dapperlings decompose leaf litter and can be found in summer and fall. At this site, heavy shade and thick leaf litter help keep the humus layer moist and facilitate fungal growth during periods with minimal precipitation.
bumble bee queen
bumble bee worker
July 27, 2007: Bumble bees emerge from their underground nesting burrow on the floor of the old-growth forest in Fort Townsend Historical State Park. I see what appear to be three different sizes of bees entering and exiting the burrow. The largest ones surely are queens, of which there are (surprisingly) at least two. The smallest ones (at least a dozen) are worker females. Some of intermediate size might be males. Maybe the multiple queen-sized bees include "new" individuals that will overwinter and start colonies next year.
Douglas squirrel (Tamiasciurus douglasii)
eastern gray squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis)
July 26, 2018: A native Douglas squirrel and non-native eastern gray squirrel cling to a Douglas-fir tree close to a bird feeder near Port Townsend. The smaller Douglas squirrel has a feisty, territorial nature and sometimes briefly charges at the more mild-mannered gray squirrel, but often they feed within a few feet of each other. During these times the Douglas squirrel sometimes emits uneasy growl-like vocalizations like those used when another Douglas squirrel approaches too closely. Introduced populations of eastern gray squirrels overlap with Douglas squirrels in some native-forest sites in the Pacific Northwest but are more common in urban/suburban areas with mature planted trees.
Western gray squirrels are state-listed as endangered in Washington. They currently inhabit three areas: the Klickitat region (Klickitat, southern Yakima, and southeastern Skamania counties); the North Cascades (Okanogan and Chelan counties); and the southern Puget Trough (Joint Base Lewis-McChord and small adjacent areas in Pierce and Thurston counties). Known threats include habitat loss, degradation, and fragmentation (including but not limited to timber harvest, wildfires, and in some cases fire exclusion); small population size and isolation; disease; and road mortality. Sadly, my most recent sighting was a winter roadkill in the Methow Valley.
western gray squirrel (Sciurus griseus)
July 25, 2021: I never tire of watching the superb fishing skills of great blue herons. Sharp vision guides their strikes, yielding an impressively high catch percentage. This heron just caught a threespine stickleback and now repositions it before swallowing. The little fish is just one of many the heron nabbed today at the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend.
July 25, 2021: Like herons, greater yellowlegs are expert fishers. They use vision and exploratory bill probing to detect their prey and adeptly extract sticklebacks from their hiding places in beds of filamentous algae at the Kah Tai Lagoon.
July 25, 2010: 6:20 pm: By the end of July, rhinoceros auklets foraging during early evening hours commonly pursue and catch sizable fishes to bring to their big, hungry nestlings waiting in burrows on Protection Island. Even more impressive is that they can catch additional fish while holding a large one (see August 1, 2007, above). Back in late June and early July, auklets at this site captured and held primarily smaller Pacific sand lance—much easier for the young nestlings to swallow. See June 29, July 10 & 19, and August 1 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
July 24, 2016: That was one tart apple! A male black-tailed deer's tongue gets a workout as he finishes off a green apple from an untended tree in Port Townsend. As usual for this time of year, his lunch-time companions are other well-antlered males.
Apples are well known for their appeal to deer, but I just learned that a popular hunting outfitter sells a granular "deer magnet" product that features the "irresistible smell and natural draw of green apples." It "attracts deer from long distances with its sweet smell and holds them in the area with its habit-forming taste." Apparently, to create deer junkies that you can easily shoot, simply mix it with feed or just pour it on the ground. Another apple-themed product is named "Apple Buck Snort," a liquid touted to give you an "enhanced hunting experience." No, you do not drink it or wash your hunting clothes in it—you apply it to a stump or some other outdoor object near your deer stand. It's not clear if you can use the leftovers to make hard cider after hunting season is over.
July 24, 2011: The pink structures on this bitter cherry leaf in the eastern Olympic Mountains are galls caused by mites (Eriophyes emarginatae) that suck plant cell juices. The mites live and feed within the pouchlike galls. Adult females pass the winter in bark fissures or between bud scales.
July 23, 2011, July 12, 2012: On warm, sunny afternoons, several violet-green swallows, some with their bills agape, expose their feathers to heat and solar radiation as they bask on sunbaked ground along the Larry Scott Trail in Port Townsend. Periodically they carefully preen their plumage. Feather maintenance behaviors like these are commonplace in upland birds (see June 3 & 30 and July 4 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). I've seen violet-green swallows do this at precisely the same site many times in July over at least the past 13 years, including July 2024.
July 23, 2010: A female bluet (damselfly) perches on foliage in a forest clearing about 0.3 miles from the nearest potential breeding site. Damselflies aren't the strongest aviators, but sometimes they move surprisingly long distances (more than a mile) from their origins. Will this individual settle and breed in a distant pond, or return to its natal habitat? Or will it get picked off by a predator or simply perish as a waif?
July 22, 2024: A prodigious bloom of gumweed has become an important food (nectar, pollen) resource for increasing numbers of insects along sections of the Salish Sea coast. Today's visitors include small native bees—clearly focused on gathering pollen—and hover flies, which may consume nectar or pollen.
July 22, 2018: Oregon-grape plants along lowland forest edges and roadsides are loaded with bright blue fruits. July 22, 2024: The fruit production of the same patch of Oregon-grape looks just like it did in 2018. In fact, annual prolific fruiting of this species seems to be the norm. The fruits, though tart and seedy, can be used to make jellies, curds, syrups, sherbets, and other tasty treats. Frugivorous birds and mammals do eat the fruits, but many fruits remain on the plants well into autumn.
July 22, 2013: A tantalizing tale of two swallowtails. Morning flights of anise swallowtails catch our eyes as we follow a barren ridgetop at an elevation of 6,700 feet in the eastern Olympic Mountains. A vividly colored swallowtail in pristine condition (upper photo) must have recently emerged from its pupa. Nearby, another individual is several weeks older, judging from its faded, ragged condition (lower photo). Field guides indicate that this alpine habitat should have only a single brood each year, but it looks like we may have two. Or perhaps the ragged one moved here from a lower elevation with an earlier emergence time. Another complication is that diapause in the pupal stage can last multiple years. This might result in asynchronous emergence of adults at a single site.
July 22, 2010 & 2011: A rhinoceros auklet generally leans forward just before it begins a dive. Sometimes it briefly opens the bill, and it may eliminate a white cloud of nitrogenous waste (upper photo). As it begins to submerge, the auklet spreads its wings and pushes off with the webbed feet (middle photo), sometimes sending a plume of water into the air from each foot (lower photo).
July 21, 2024: An adult bee fly basks on the ground in late afternoon as temperatures start to fall along a lowland forest edge. Next it moves to a sunny perch on a salal leaf. Bee flies—true flies that somewhat resemble bumble bees—sometimes can be seen sipping flower nectar. The larvae escape our attention as they externally parasitize burrow- or cavity-dwelling larval insects of various kinds.
bumble bee on Himalayan blackberry
cellophane bee (Colletes) on Himalayan blackberry
July 21, 2007: Even as Himalayan blackberry fruits develop (some are already ripe), new flowers continue to appear and attract pollinators, especially bumble bees, other native bees, and honey bees. In July, the flowers join the hordes of non-native blooms that seem to command the attention of so many nectar- and pollen-seeking insects in Pacific Northwest lowlands. Cellophane bees are so named because they line their underground nests with a cellophane-like material made from saliva and secretions of a small gland on the bee's abdomen.
Himalayan blackberry is a highly invasive noxious weed in disturbed lowlands, where it readily overwhelms native vegetation with its long, arching canes and often-evergreen foliage. The plants readily sprout from the roots and rhizomes. Cane tips that touch the ground may take root. Fruit-eating birds and mammals disperse the seeds,
common broom seeds, each with a small elaisome attached to one end
July 20, 2024: A visit to a sandy field overrun with common broom brings to mind the dazzling yellow flowers that cloaked the bushes back in spring (see May 8, 2024 below). In today's sunny warmth, I see and hear the consequence of that prolific bloom—the constant sound of countless dry fruit pods snapping open and flinging their seeds up to several feet. Attached to each seed is a nutrient-rich elaiosome that attracts ants. Certain ants remove the elaiosome immediately when they find a seed, whereas other ant species transport the seed some distance (to a protected site or to their nest) before removing the elaiosome and discarding the seed. Thus ants serve as effective seed dispersal agents. Seeds on the ground may be taken by granivorous birds or mammals, which function mostly as seed predators, though rodents may collect and store seeds and thereby serve as seed dispersers.
Many single broom plants produce more than 10,000 seeds, and the total output of the hundreds of broom plants on this 4-acre tract amounts to many millions of seeds that can remain viable in the soil for years. See August 12 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
July 20, 2024: A scattered group of adult and juvenile crows forages on the beach at Point Hudson. Probably this is the crow family I've seen here nearly every day over the past two weeks (see July 9, 2024). Most of the time, the juveniles forage on their own, picking at remnants of flesh in cockle shells that were previously dropped, broken, and fed on by glaucous-winged gulls (upper photo). Occasionally an adult crow picks up something that a juvenile insists it must have, and the adult obliges by placing the item in the begging youngster's open mouth (lower photo). As I watch intently and try to keep track of the various behaviors, a juvenile picks up a small cockle and drops it ineffectively onto some rocks as it flies just a foot above the ground—seemingly imitating the process by which adult crows break open shells by dropping them from a much greater height (as do gulls). Live and learn!
July 20, 2010: Pacific treefrogs assume characteristic basking postures on salal leaves a few feet above the ground in a lowland forest opening (see May 26 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
Pacific treefrog (bright green) with northern red-legged frogs in breeding habitat in April.
Pacific treefrog foraging among logs on a lowland forest floor in August.
Pacific treefrogs exhibit dramatic individual differences in color and pattern. Salal-basking treefrogs often match the color of the green leaves, but dorsally some frogs are plain green whereas others have limited to extensive brown or gray markings (example above). Plain bright green individuals also commonly forage on brown soils or leaf litter in spring, summer, and fall, and they may really stand out when they occur on dark wetland backgrounds (usually in spring; photo above). Treefrogs lacking bright green color rarely bask on salal leaves and are most likely to be encountered on dusky soils or ground cover (bottom photo),
Individual treefrogs can slowly change color with exposure to variations in light and temperature. In at least some populations, certain individuals can change between green and brown colors over a period of days or weeks, whereas others remain green or brown regardless of season or surroundings.
July 19, 2018: A juvenile hairy woodpecker gives me a look as it drinks from a lowland puddle. The woodpecker places its bill tip in the water at a steep angle, then raises (and opens and closes) its bill to swallow. It does not scoop up water with the bill angled almost horizontally as others have reported. Of course, the bird is young and still learning!
July 19, 2018: As the hairy woodpecker drinks and bathes, a western flycatcher perched above the puddle watches with evident interest. After the woodpecker departs, the flycatcher repeatedly drops down for quick dips, never lingering in the water.
July 18, 2011: In the clouds near Buckhorn Pass in the eastern Olympic Mountains, stunted subalpine fir trees have new growth (needles and purple seed cones. not yet fully developed), intact cones from last year, and central remnants of cones that have lost their scales and seeds. The cones of true firs stand upright, unlike the downward-hanging cones of Douglas-fir.
July 18, 2011: Textile designers take notice—we all want raingear that performs like these lupine leaves on a drizzly day near Buckhorn Pass! Lupine leaves have a “hairy” surface incorporating both hydrophobic and hydrophilic properties that together trap water droplets in the air space above the leaf surface. This prevents water from blocking the leaf stomates (structures essential for carbon dioxide uptake and effective photosynthesis). It also speeds evaporation and promotes a dry surface less conducive to fungal growth.
July 17, 2024: During the recent stretch of dry weather, mushrooms have been scarce along my usual bicycling and walking routes around Port Townsend, so today I'm happy astonished to see a whopping big prince mushroom (Agaricus augustus) under roadside Douglas-fir trees near home. In BC-WA-OR, "the prince" is most often seen in June and July but also well into fall. Its odor is similar to that of almond extract. This is a saprobic fungus that digests dead plant material in the soil. It does not form mycorrhizal connections with living trees.
bumble bee
honey bee
sand wasp
paper wasp
July 17-22, multiple years: In July, creeping thistle (aka Canada thistle or field thistle) (Cirsium arvense) puts on an eye-catching show of prolific pink/purple (sometimes white) flowers in lowland fields and disturbed areas. The first blooms appear in spring, and some plants still have flowers into November. Unlike other Cirsium thistles, the pollen flowers and seed flowers usually are on separate plants. Single plants sometimes form extensive clonal stands as new vertical shoots arise from the roots and underground stems (hence the name, creeping thistle). The tufted seeds scatter long distances in the wind.
Creeping thistle, a non-native perennial plant, displaces native flora, and it invades farmland and rangeland; accordingly, it is classified as a noxious weed in the Pacific Northwest. Nevertheless, its flowers provide food for large numbers of native insects (bees, wasps, hover flies, butterflies, beetles) as well as non-native honey bees. And it's hard not to appreciate the dazzling juxtaposition provided by American goldfinches as they nibble the small seeds. On the other hand, do the thistles draw pollinators away from native wildflowers?
July 17-24, multiple years: Like thistles, non-native knapweed—another noxious weed of lowland fields, roadsides, and disturbed areas—attracts bumble bees (photos) and other native nectar-seeking insects. Non-native honey bees are also frequent visitors.
July 17, 2016: A dragonfly exuvia clings to a bur-reed plant at Anderson Lake (Jefferson Co., WA), a body of water that currently has high levels of toxins produced by a cyanobacterial bloom. Despite the toxins, the lake has substantial populations of dragonflies, damselflies, and other small aquatic animals.
The intriguing exuvia is the shed exoskeleton of the nymph (larval) stage that climbs out of the water as it ends the extended aquatic phase of its life cycle. The flying adult stage slowly slips out of the top of the exuvia as a soft insect with pale colors. It expands and dries its wings, then eventually flies away to begin life as an aerial predator. The whole process extends over several hours. The flying stage takes days or weeks to develop its ultimate adult coloration and become sexually mature.
July 16, 2024: A female mallard watches over her downy offspring (five more ducklings are scattered nearby) at the edge of a lowland pond on the northeastern Olympic Peninsula. At the pond margin, the ducklings are vulnerable to coyotes, but duck families that venture away from shore may be attacked by raptors. On July 14, 2015, I watched an adult bald eagle make several attempts to pluck downy gadwall ducklings from open water in the center of the pond. The ducklings dove underwater when the eagle swooped down, and their mother flew low over the water at the eagle each time it tried to grab a duckling (effectively interfering with the eagle's attack). The unsuccessful eagle finally flew off and landed on a distant shore.
July 16, 2007: In the eastern Olympic Mountains below Marmot Pass, I'm distracted from the glorious wildflowers by a bristly tachinid fly (Hystricia abrupta). Female tachinids deposit one or more eggs on or in an insect host. Known hosts of H. abrupta include tiger moth caterpillars. Fly larvae feed within the caterpillars, with fatal results for the host.
July 16, 2007: Meanwhile, in the same area, various hover flies seem to be among the primary visitors to a wide range of wildflowers, including rose (photo), thimbleberry, blue-bead lily, and yellow members of the aster family. Larkspur flowers attract bumble bees (and probably other long-tongued nectar seekers), but hover flies may not be able to reach the sweet fluid in the long nectar spur of these flowers.
July 15, 2024: Over the past two weeks I've occasionally heard the distinctive calls of California scrub-jays in scattered places around Port Townsend. It's a sound I learned more than 60 years ago near my home in California. Today I hear a scrub-jay calling and see two jays interacting at the top of the bluff near the ferry terminal. By a circuitous route I ride my bike up there and manage to find the jays. The one shown here ignores me and calls frequently as I photograph it. After several minutes, the other jay flies in and lands a few feet from the calling jay. Then the two of them head off into an adjacent residential area. In the 1950s, California scrub-jays were known from extreme southwestern Washington but had never been reported from anywhere on the Olympic Peninsula (Birds of Washington State, 1953). Today, they nest northward to the southern Puget Sound region and are regular visitors to Port Townsend, where they may appear in any month (but less often in late spring and early summer than in other seasons). The northward expansion likely is a result of climate change and habitat alteration, particularly a great increase in the abundance and diversity of planted nut- and fruit-bearing trees and shrubs in expanding residential areas (perhaps offsetting widespread loss of native oak woodlands favored by scrub-jays). It seems only a matter of time before scrub-jays begin to nest in Port Townsend.
July 15, 2008: A visit to the subalpine zone of the eastern Olympic Mountains yields plentiful and interesting wildflowers, including western bog laurel (upper) and common butterwort (lower) in a wet meadow. The pollen-bearing anthers of western bog laurel are held in little pockets in the petals. When an insect lands on the flower, the anthers pop out and dust the visitor with pollen. The curled, yellow-green basal leaves of common butterwort have a slimy/glandular upper surface that traps and digests insects. The nutrients thus gained help the plant overcome low nutrient (phosphorus, nitrogen) availability in the wetland soils where butterwort grows. The long nectar spur in butterwort flowers beckons pollinators with a long tongue, likely including certain bees and flies, butterflies, and hummingbirds.
July 14, 2024: Oregon-grape along a sunny roadside presents a colorful spectacle as its fruits ripen among multi-hued foliage. With abundant sunshine over many days recently, some leaves (older ones) are partially to heavily loaded with red anthocyanins, while others (the newest leaves) are dominated by green chlorophyll (note: Oregon-grape leaves comprise multiple leaflets). Anthocyanins may play various roles in plant leaves. What specifically accounts for their presence in Oregon-grape leaves in early summer? July 16, 2024: Further investigation indicates that the red leaflets are dry and starting to fall off. Perhaps the anthocyanins protect from excessive sunlight the biochemical machinery involved in the retrieval of still-useful molecules from the senescing leaves.
July 13, 2018: Another day, another roadkill. This adult male long-tailed weasel came to a sad end in an agricultural landscape along Hastings Avenue near Port Townsend (to avoid joining it, I moved the carcass off the road for the photo). This is the weasel's mating season; accordingly, he had large scrotal testes (yellow circle). Births occur in April-May (embryos have a long period of dormancy before they implant in the female's uterus). See also July 5, 2017 (below).
July 11, 13, & 14, 2017: Upper: I discover a frothy-looking blob on top of a decaying Douglas-fir log in a lowland forest. This goes by the name, "false puffball." However, it is not related to true puffballs and in fact is not even a fungus—it's a peculiar organism known as a slime mold. Middle: Two days later, I find the slime mold being intensely grazed by a banana slug. Lower: On July 14, the blob consists mostly of a dry, dark-brown spore mass that crumbles when I probe it. Though it resembles cocoa powder, I refrain from using it for beverages or baking. For information on slime molds, see May 18, June 19, and July 18 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
July 12, 2007: It wouldn't feel like summer at Point Hudson in Port Townsend without the outbursts of raucous calls of roosting and feeding Heermann's gulls. Hundreds are here to feast on the summer and early fall bounty of the Salish Sea. They join several hundred resident glaucous-winged gulls and dozens of immature California gulls. Heermann's gulls arrive via a northward migration after their nesting season in the Gulf of California, where egg laying peaks in early April and hatching occurs in May-June on Isla Rasa (the primary breeding site). In contrast, the eggs of glaucous-winged gulls nesting around Port Townsend are laid in May-June and hatch mostly from mid-June to late July (as of today, some have not yet hatched).
July 11, 2008: A hike to the high country around Mount Townsend in the Olympic Mountains yields a profuse bloom of wildflowers, including this patch of Olympic Mountain fleabane. Though perhaps not as alluring as the fantastic diversity of yellow, orange, pink, red, purple, or blue flowers we see today, this humble native plant nonetheless puts on a showy display. Olympic Mountain fleabane occurs only in the Olympic Mountains, where John B. Flett made the first scientific collection at an elevation of 5,700 feet on August 30, 1898. To most people, this Olympic endemic resembles various common members of the daisy/aster family, so its charms are most highly appreciated by serious botanists.
July 10, 2014: In moist montane forest along the Sol Duc River valley in Olympic National Park, the unusual flowers of western wild ginger escape our notice until we bend over and push aside the evergreen leaves. The three burgundy structures with long slender tips are the sepals (the flowers lack petals). Flies or beetles may play a role in self-pollination, but cross-pollination seems to be rare. See also May 14 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
July 10, 2024: A crow fledgling—perhaps one of those seen yesterday (same site)—adroitly extracts a large isopod from a mat of seaweed at low tide. Did yesterday's lesson pay off?
July 9, 2024. On a Salish Sea shore, an adult crow does its best to nudge two of its fledglings toward nutritional independence. One of the fledglings (at right) begs from the adult. As the young crows follow closely on foot, the adult exposes food items by overturning intertidal stones or shells or by pulling aside seaweeds, or it presents the curious fledglings with fleshy shellfish fragments. On one occasion, the adult picked up a food morsel and allowed a fledgling to pluck the tidbit from its open mouth.
July 9, 2014, 8:12 pm: Upper: A white avalanche lily shines in the light of the setting sun along the High Divide in the Olympic Mountains. The sun sets slowly at this time of year; it didn't dip below the horizon until 9:25 pm. Lower: In the dim light just before sunset, a pine grosbeak eats subalpine conifer seeds from the snow surface and plucks buds from low plants in adjacent snow-free areas. This big finch is a year-round inhabitant of the Olympic Mountains.
fledgling song sparrow
July 8, 2024: 8:00 am: Along a forest edge near Port Townsend, an American robin plucks and swallows at least 19 red elderberry fruits from a single cluster, one after another in quick succession. 9:17 am: The same red elderberry plant gets a hurried visit from a robin, but I can't tell if it's the same bird. This time the robin gobbles at least 28 fruits from a single cluster before flying away and out of view. Forthwith, a song sparrow arrives. It plucks several fruits but is more deliberate than the robin in processing them. Rather than swallowing the fruits whole, the sparrow nibbles each one. It's hard to see the details...is it perhaps extracting the seeds? I examine several fruits and find 3-4 seeds in each one. 9:42 am: As I focus my binoculars on the same elderberry plant, an adult song sparrow eats several fruits, then plucks and feeds a few (one at a time) to a softly vocalizing fledgling perched nearby. This is the second successful nesting this year for the sparrow pair on this territory, which I monitor every day. I could not get a satisfactory photo of the song sparrow plucking fruits among the thick foliage and shadows, so we have to be content with an image of a second-brood fledgling. See also July 5, 2024 and May 14, 2024 (below).
July 8, 2017: Western (upper) and least (lower) sandpipers forage in pond shallows near the Salish Sea. The reliable appearance of sandpipers here in early July (sometimes late June) marks the beginning of the southward migration from arctic breeding areas. [In A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest, the sandpiper photo caption for July 7 should read "from arctic nesting grounds."]
July 8, 2014: Upper: Along the High Divide in Olympic National Park, we hike through a north-facing landscape still clad in snow. Middle: Nearby, on the south side of the ridge, the snow is gone and life flourishes. I photograph margined white butterflies copulating on lush green foliage near colorful wildflowers. Margined white caterpillars subsist on plant foliage of the mustard family. Lower: Eroding damp ground of a landslide on the same south slope attracts clusters of silvery blues. The proboscis of each butterfly extends into the soil, which supplies physiologically important minerals. Silvery blue caterpillars feed on lupines, vetches, and other wild legumes. See July 4, 2020 (below) for another example of dramatic differences between adjacent north and south slopes.
July 7, 2024: A Lorquin's admiral perches on a nodding grass head in a lowland forest clearing—my first sighting this year here at home near Port Townsend. In some years I see them in late June. As I focus on the butterfly, I notice another insect resting on the grass—a lady beetle larva marked with orange spots. Then I peer more closely and suddenly understand why the beetle larva is here: the grass head is well populated with tiny aphids (visible at lower right)—a favorite prey for lady beetle larvae!
July 7, 2023: "If you fill it, they will come." A depression filled with water in a forest opening in July is an irresistible magnet for all the bath-loving songbirds in the neighborhood, including Swainson's thrush (upper) and spotted towhee (lower). It's pleasing to see these birds in full view in the open, as they tend to head for cover when I appear. They eventually overcome their wariness as I sit quietly near the enticing puddle. Sometimes the birds drink, but the opportunity to bathe clearly is of primary importance. See also July 8 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
July 6, 2024: In a sandy forest clearing, abundant seed pods of invasive common broom dry in the warm air and sunshine. Many are still mostly green, but a few dry pods are beginning to snap open and release their seeds. See August 12 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
July 6, 2024: The new green leaves of madrone trees are fully developed while last year's senescing foliage wilts and loses its chlorophyll. Dry, recently fallen leaves cover the ground beneath this tree. Madrone is evergreen, but barely so. See June 9, 2024 (below).
July 6, 2008: 4:11 pm: Salish Sea near Protection Island: Upper: Ready to "fly" underwater, a rhinoceros auklet begins a feeding dive as it holds three Pacific sand lance captured during previous dives (one of the fish is out of view on the bird's right side). Lower: Less than a minute later, the little seabird appears at the surface holding four sand lance. It still holds four fish when it comes up after its next dive. Looks like this auklet's single chick is going to have a good meal. See June 7 & 14 below.
right front
right rear
July 6, 2008: As I cruise along on my bicycle, I see a furry roadkill up ahead, As usual, I brake to investigate. I'm astonished to find one of the most unique native mammals of the Pacific Northwest—an aplodontia ("mountain beaver"), This one is only 1.2 miles from my home near Port Townsend, but until today I have no idea they inhabit the local area. Of course, I photograph its various body parts, including its curiously short tail (yellow circle) and feet. Note the nail-like claw on the thumb. See also August 9 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest. See also August 12, 2009 (above).
July 5, 2024: Red elderberry fruits are ripening in lowland thickets and along forest edges of the Olympic Peninsula. My red-green color blindness obscures the abundant little fruits among the profuse foliage, but my eyes are nevertheless drawn to the plants with ripe clusters due to repeated visits by fruit-gobbling American robin, Swainson's thrush, and song sparrow. Passing through the digestive system of a bird tends to cause the seeds to germinate sooner or at a higher rate. Seeds can remain viable in the soil for years (for instance, until a disturbance creates favorable conditions for seedling establishment).
July 5, 2019: 6:30 pm, 65° F: A big Pacific sideband ascends a red alder tree in a lowland forest. It moves slowly (even for a snail!) and seems to be grazing biofilm on the tree trunk as it moves upward, now about five feet above the ground. The attractive native mollusk sometimes employs the side-to-side head movements often seen in intensely grazing snails and slugs, but mostly it seems to be on straight-line trajectory. When I return a couple hours later, the snail has disappeared. Did it keep climbing? Seems like the wrong direction to go in dry July, so maybe it retreated to a moist nook on the ground.
July 5, 2017: Along the Salish Sea coast, a purplish copper nectars on sea-rocket flowers. You may see this ecologically versatile butterfly on a wide range of flowers from sea level to subalpine openings, including disturbed areas. The caterpillars feed on dock, smartweed, knotweed, and silverweed. Only the eggs survive the winter.
right front
right and left rear
July 5, 2017: All too frequently my bicycle routes bring me upon fresh road kills. Today, the victim is a long-tailed weasel. To better understand the tracks left by these gracile predators, I take a close look at the weasel's feet. Like other members of the weasel family, it has five toes on each foot, and the toes and foot pads are asymmetrically arranged. On this individual, the rear feet are not exactly mirror images of each other. The claws on the front feet average longer and slimmer than those of the rear feet. See July 13, 2018 (above) for a full-body weasel photo.
July 4, 2020: Upper: It may be Independence Day, but on north-facing subalpine slopes of the Olympic Mountains, we expect (and find!) wintery conditions at this time of year. Middle: In vivid contrast, warmer south-facing exposures blaze with wildflowers. Lower: On these warmer sites, beargrass has begun its bottom-to-top flowering progression that attracts pollinators such as flies (especially hover flies), beetles, and bees. The inflorescence bears up to about 400 flowers that lack nectar and may smell sweet or (more often) unpleasantly musty (hence their appeal to flies). Flowering stalks die back after blooming, but the plant may produce vegetative offshoots that survive and persist. Beargrass has long, narrow, evergreen leaves superbly put to use in Indigenous basketry. The plants respond positively to periodic fires by sprouting from the underground rhizomes.
July 3-4, 2024: As usual in early July, a pair of glaucous-winged gulls (or hybrids) has eggs in their nest on the concrete platform at Point Hudson in Port Townsend. A few minutes after I took these photos the incubating gull got off the nest as its mate walked over and settled on the eggs (they exchanged vocalizations during this process). Gulls have successfully nested on this structure virtually every year for at least the past 17 years (likely much longer). Although glaucous-winged gulls infrequently live beyond 15 years, a few survive into their early thirties, so there is a slim chance that the gulls in today's photos are the same ones I photographed here in 2007 (nearly all adults retain the same mate between years). Occasionally, breeding adults allow yearlings and/or other adult gulls to perch on the platform during incubation—perhaps these "guests" are the offspring of the nesting pair from previous years. The eggs on this platform usually hatch during the second week of July (but sometimes as late as the end of the fourth week; my observations over 11 years). Here are some stats for glaucous-winged gulls based on studies in the Salish Sea: juveniles first fly at an average age of about 6 weeks; survivorship in the first year of life averages about 60 percent; most do not begin to breed until 5 years old; about 85 percent of the adults survive from one year to the next.
July 3, 2014: Upper: In a lowland thicket, many Saskatoon serviceberry fruits are ripe and ready to eat. They have a pleasant sweet taste appreciated by people and many kinds of birds and mammals. Lower: The fruits of black hawthorn are just beginning to mature. Though edible when ripe in late summer, the fruits are dry and seedy. Hawthorn fruits sometimes attract wild birds and mammals, and historically they served as food for Indigenous people, but they rank low on the preference scale for wildlife and humans.
July 3, 2013: A non-native cabbage white butterfly nectars on a snowberry flower. At this lowland site, bees and wasps are the most common insects on these flowers, with infrequent visits by butterflies.
July 2, 2024: Oceanspray is flowering prolifically across Olympic Peninsula lowlands. The bright, foamy arrays of tiny flowers draw our eyes to plants that nt unnoticed in spring. The plants still hold dried-up flowering/fruiting clusters from last year (right center). A quick survey today yields just a few insect visitors, including small bees, many tiny beetles, and this nectar-seeking flesh fly—a less than charismatic insect whose larvae develop in animal feces.
July 2, 2023: A new crabbing season begins with a good catch of Dungeness crabs in baited traps in Admiralty Inlet, with plenty of keepers for everyone. In the Salish Sea of Washington, the daily limit is 5 crabs (hardshell males only) at least 6¼" in carapace width. To harvest Salish Sea Dungeness crab, you must have a crab endorsement on your shellfish license and must report your catch on an official catch record card.
July 1, 2020: A scoop of a dipnet in marshy shallows of a lowland pond yields an array of amphibians and invertebrates, including a large darner dragonfly larva (aka nymph or naiad) (photo). This robust, big-eyed insect climbs on submerged vegetation or debris, where it employs its raptorial mouthparts (here retracted beneath the head) to nab various aquatic invertebrates and rarely amphibians or fish. The darner larva shown here overwintered in this pond and soon will metamorphose into the adult stage. Beneath and beside the darner larva are a few nearly transparent phantom midge larvae.
July 1, 2015: These three fledgling tree swallows are part of a mixed group of at least 14 fledgling swallows (tree, violet-green, and barn) waiting for parental food deliveries in the same dead tree mentioned below. Unfortunately, this and other small dead trees much used by perching birds (especially fledglings) were later cut down in ill-considered preserve management activities.
June 30, 2016: At the Kah Tai Lagoon nature preserve in Port Townsend, a fledgling violet-green swallow excitedly flutters its wings as an adult male approaches with a fast-food delivery. The young swallow and its three presumed siblings (perched in the same dead tree) each receive a beakful of food over a period of 12 minutes, Most feedings are by an adult female (certainly the fledglings' mother).
June 29, 2010: For this photograph, I gently nudge a handsome little spittlebug out of its frothy refuge on a lowland salmonberry branch. The bubbly "spittle" (produced by the bug) serves as shelter as the insect nymph sucks plant juices.
June 28, 2009: An adult pied-billed grebe incubates unhatched eggs on its nest in Union Bay on Lake Washington in Seattle. Three difficult-to-see downy chicks float nearby (the eggs hatch over several days). The nest floats among the foliage and flowers of fragrant white water-lily—a non-native water plant categorized as a noxious weed in Washington. Nevertheless, the grebe clearly finds the water-lilies suitable as nesting habitat (pied-billed grebes sometimes nest among these plants in eastern North America where the water-lily is native).
June 27, 2016: Fresh gumweed flowers begin to open along the Salish Sea coast. Over the next several months, gumweed nectar and pollen will attract a multitude of bees, wasps, skippers, and other insects.
June 26, 2008: In the eastern Olympic Mountains, Pacific trillium flowers have been pollinated and are developing fruits. Pollinators include bees, beetles, and moths. The flower petals—white when fresh—turn various shades of pink (sometimes deep burgundy) as anthocyanin pigments are deposited in them about 2-3 weeks after the flowers open. Despite various assertions about the function of the color change, its significance remains speculative. After seed germination, trillium plants may take multiple years before appearing above ground, then several more years before flowering. Subsequently, a plant may not flower every year, and sometimes may not appear above ground between flowering years. Truly a plant with intriguing behavior! See April 4 and September 15 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
June 25, 2008: A savannah sparrow surveys the carnage after heavy machinery mowed its grassy-field nesting habitat near Port Townsend. Mowing and hay-cutting in June or early July destroys the nests of (1) sparrows nesting late because their first effort was unsuccessful and (2) birds attempting to nest again after raising their initial brood. Voles and their ground-surface nests also commonly succumb to the whirling blades of the "grim reaper." Crows, ravens, and raptors are quick to pick off or scavenge small grassland animals exposed or killed by haying.
June 24, 2007: In the subalpine forest below Marmot Pass (Olympic Mountains), tiny beetles swarm on the solitary flower of a blue-bead (queen's-cup) lily. Some beetles appear to ingest nectar, while others eat pollen or copulate. Nearby, similar-looking lily flowers are devoid of beetles. Blue-bead lily flowers also commonly attract various flies (e.g., see July 1 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). Bees seeking nectar or pollen sometimes visit the flowers, but none show up during my observations today.
June 23, 2007: Near Marmot Pass (Olympic Mountains), a tangle of whiteworm lichens (Thamnolia) covers the ground. Resembling slim, chalky white worms, these intriguing fungal-algal symbionts inhabit arctic and alpine environments on all continents except Africa and Antarctica. They reproduce primarily (if not nearly exclusively) by fragmentation (breaking apart). Seemingly, the lichen fragments disperse in strong winds, though some speculate that migrating birds might play a role in long-distance movements.
June 22, 2007: As the sun emerges after a rain shower, a color-matched Pacific treefrog climbs among salal leaves on its way to a good basking perch, where it will spend the next few hours fully exposed to the sun. See May 26 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
June 21, 2011: As my kayak drifts quietly along the shoreline of Rat Island, I get cryptic and vivid views of a black oystercatcher as it rests between episodes of foraging among intertidal cobbles.
June 20, 2016: A western red-backed salamander walks along the shaded, mossy, forest floor along the Sol Duc River in Olympic National Park. This completely terrestrial, lungless salamander generally stays hidden in daytime, so I'm surprised to see one walking in the open in mid-afternoon. For a possible explanation, see May 7 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
June 20, 2007: An egg yolk (fried egg) jelly swims and drifts with the tide near a pier in Port Townsend. This one is bigger than average but well short of maximum size (more than 2 feet in diameter, with tentacles exceeding 20 feet in length). Small marine organisms become entrapped in the numerous tentacles, but the sting is inconsequential to humans.
June 19, 2007: A giant birch sawfly basks on a salal leaf near Port Townsend. This robust, big-jawed insect tests our identification skills. Is it a bee? A wasp? A fly? Sawflies are not related to true flies but rather are members of the Hymenoptera, the group that includes bees, wasps, ants, and their kin. Another source of confusion is that sawfly larvae look like Lepidoptera caterpillars. Larvae of the sawfly shown here feed on the leaves of various deciduous trees, including alders, poplars, cherries, willows, and others. In the Pacific Northwest, adults fly from early spring through mid-summer, but at this site most of my observations have been in June.
June 18, 2024: Black-tailed deer fawns, now a month old, have gained confidence and readily explore away from their mother. She keeps an eye on them and sometimes follows their lead. The fawns nibble the wide range of fresh plant growth around them but still nurse now and then.
June 17, 2024: 5:00 pm: During a spate of rain showers, an adult male rough-skinned newt crosses a dirt road as he heads away from a lowland breeding pond and into upland forest, where he may spend the remainder of the year. Other adult newts may remain in their breeding pond during the dry summer months. This newt stopped walking when we approached on foot, then resumed his trek after we moved him off the road in the direction he was going.
June 17, 2011: A flock of cedar waxwings forages among pond-side willows in Port Townsend. Some of the waxwings have several waxy red tips on the secondary feathers of each wing. This adult lacks these colorful feather appendage—a possible indication that it is a female in her second calendar year (the sex/age class least likely to have the red tips at this time of year). However, some young males lack the waxy tips, and sometimes the red appendages break off.
red-winged blackbird fledgling
dark-eyed junco fledglings
spotted towhee fledglings
June 16: By mid-June, it's easy to find fledglings and juveniles of early nesting birds, such as barred owls, woodpeckers, Pacific wrens, bushtits, song sparrows, dark-eyed juncos, American robins, European starlings, red-winged blackbirds, and others. The young birds generally look quite different than their parents. Later, in July and August, the fledglings we see include those of long-distance migrants and subsequent broods of some early nesters.
June 15, 2015: In lowlands around the Salish Sea, a new generation of sand wasps has emerged from the ground, and the nesting season is underway. At this site, dozens of females energetically dig burrows in compacted sandy soil. The female in the upper photo sends sand flying from beneath her body as she moves forward into her partially dug burrow, then she backs up a couple of inches and repeats the process, rapidly throwing sand backward with her front legs as she moves forward. As the females dig, low-flying wasps (presumably males) swoop down toward them, sometimes making contact. Today, the females I watch ignore or shake off these pouncers, so likely they have already mated. When the burrow is complete, the female goes hunting. She stings a fly, carries it into the burrow, and lays an egg on it. Soon the egg hatches. The hungry larva feeds on the dead/moribund fly and others delivered periodically by the mother wasp. Meanwhile, sand wasp males often perch on the sand near the burrows and make easy photographic subjects. Surprisingly (to me), they vary a bit in size (the ones in the middle and lower photos are big ones). Throughout the summer, adult sand wasps fuel their activities with flower nectar (often from members of the aster family). For further information, see especially August 10 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
Update: June 20, 2024
June 14, 2024: Wee Woolly Wildlife: Little bits of fuzz on new shoots and leaves of red alder disguise the nymphs of a plant-juice-sucking insect known as a psyllid (Psylla). The nymphs produce and cover themselves with cottony wax, which deters some predators and may protect against desiccation. The woolly clumps move along the leaf vein and twig shoot as I photograph. Then I gently remove the wax to expose one of the six-legged beasties (3 mm long, not including the antennae).
June 14, 2010: 3:20 pm: Upper: A rhinoceros auklet completes a successful foraging dive in the Salish Sea near Port Townsend. Lower: A few seconds later, still holding its catch, the auklet—doing its best imitation of the Batman logo—begins another productive wing-propelled dive. Eventually it catches and simultaneously holds four Pacific sand lance, destined to be fed to a nestling, most likely on Protection Island (the closest nesting site, though 10 miles away as the auklet flies). See also June 7, 2007 (below).
June 13, 2024: A scrawny raccoon's hunger overcomes caution and brings this usually nocturnal mammal out in broad daylight. It employs its keen sense of smell and sensitive front feet to discover sunflower seeds that have fallen to the ground beneath a bird feeder. Raccoons are well known for "breaking and entering" to access food or shelter in or around human habitations. At this rural site, they focus on the bird feeder and our open compost heap. On one afternoon, a raccoon quietly absconded with a chocolate cake briefly set outside to cool. So, at times, we take down the bird feeder at night to discourage raccoon raids...and baked items cool indoors (we never did find the cake pan)!
June 12, 2024: I've had my eye on this forest-edge Lewis' mock orange (Philadelphus lewisii) shrub for about 15 years. It's the only one I've seen anywhere on the Quimper Peninsula, though surely there are others (the species is widely distributed in the Pacific Northwest). Every few years, I cut back non-native common broom plants that threaten to overwhelm this locally rare beauty. The sweetly fragrant flowers (seen in May, June, and July) attract bumble bees and swallowtail butterflies (see June 22 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest), but today those insects apparently are busy elsewhere. The first scientific description of Lewis' mock orange was based on specimens collected by the Lewis and Clark Expedition in 1806.
June 12, 2011: Along the Quinault River in Olympic National Park, we find wildlife on multiple scales. A tiny western red-backed salamander hides under rotting wood, a restless herd of female and juvenile elk assesses the danger posed by a couple of backpackers, a massive black bear intently grazes fresh herbage, a redwood sorrel flower rises above the forest floor, and a majestic western hemlock towers above it all. Sorrel flower petals often have an irregularly indented tip. This is an extreme example, such that each petal appears to have been uniformly grazed.
June 11, 2024: Accompanied by both parents and two siblings, a recently hatched killdeer chick forages on a sand spit on Marrowstone Island. Well-developed legs and feet allow the young chick to run fast to avoid danger. Speed (and camouflage; see May 6 below) are critical—the young killdeer won't be able to fly for another few weeks. Meanwhile, the parents provide protection by attacking or attempting to distract would-be predators. Note: The impressive legs become even more so when we consider that the upper legs (knees and thighs) of the bird are hidden in the downy plumage (the major joints seen here above the toes are the ankles).
June 10, 2024: A 38-year-old female "transient" orca (T65A, top photo) cruises the central Salish Sea. According to Orca Conservancy, she has five offspring, born in 2004 (male), 2007 (male), 2011 (female), 2014 (male), and 2018 (female). Today she is accompanied by a daughter (at right in middle photo) and a son (bottom photo). T65A's mother (at least 56 years of age) and younger sister (born in 1993) have also been seen in the Salish Sea in recent years.
June 10, 2024: As we approach Smith Island at the eastern end of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, we're treated to a rare sight in the Salish Sea—a tufted puffin and horned puffin floating together (top photo). The puffins are too far away for satisfying photos, so here I include photos of these swanky seabirds taken during my visits to nesting sites in Alaska (middle photo = tufted puffin; bottom photo = horned puffin). Smith Island hosts about two dozen nesting pairs of tufted puffins, a species that has undergone a major decline in the Pacific Northwest in recent decades, due in large part to changes in ocean conditions and fish populations. In North America, horned puffins nest primarily in Alaska, with rare breeding southward on the outer coast of British Columbia. Small numbers of nonbreeders appear in spring and summer along the Pacific Northwest coast from British Columbia to California, including the Salish Sea. Both species winter primarily far offshore in the North Pacific Ocean.
June 9, 2024: In coastal habitats on the eastern Olympic Peninsula, Pacific madrone is done flowering. New leaves grow rapidly above last year's foliage. These older leaves will turn color and begin to fall in early summer, shortly after the new foliage is fully developed.
June 9, 2024: 5:04 am: On a stunning morning in late spring, the Race to Alaska is underway: 750 miles, no motors, no support, all the way from Port Townsend to Ketchikan, Alaska. The first destination: Victoria, British Columbia. Racers receive a raucous send-off by glaucous-winged gulls, pelagic cormorants, rhinoceros auklets, marbled murrelets, purple martins, and hundreds of early birds of the human sort.
June 8, 2024: A male white-crowned sparrow sings on his territory in an open landscape near Port Townsend. In the lowlands around the Salish Sea, some sparrow pairs have successfully raised their first brood of offspring and are beginning a second nesting effort. The most adept pairs may even fledge a third brood by early August.
June 8, 2024: In the Pacific Northwest north of California, yellow bush lupine is a non-native plant that thrives in sandy or disturbed coastal habitats, and it occurs in some inland areas as well. This big, shrubby lupine can take up a lot of space on sand dunes and in other natural areas that would otherwise support native species. Additionally, it is a "nitrogen-fixer" (see May 8, 2024), and it thereby increases soil fertility to the detriment of native sand-dune species that depend on nutrient-poor soils (where they more effectively compete with various non-native plants that do best in richer soils). Consequently, although yellow bush lupine is not listed as a noxious weed under state laws in Washington or Oregon, it is regarded as an invasive weed of concern in some areas. Admittedly, yellow bush lupine is quite attractive and would garner our highest admiration if it were native. Where it grows in periodically disturbed, anthropogenic habitats (e.g., trailsides), it is perhaps one of the least disagreeable of the non-native plants that tend dominate such areas.
June 7, 2024: On the eastern side of the Olympic Peninsula, a northern alligator lizard crawls stealthily along a forest edge—a good place to find warmth, cover, and food. These locally common (but often secretive) reptiles inhabit various natural and human-made edges and clearings in lowland and foothill forests, especially where wood provides good ground cover. They also range into scrubby foothills and rocky slopes. By early June, the mating season is over, so today we don't expect to see any males with their jaws clamped onto the head-neck area of a female—a characteristic behavior during courtship and copulation. A few months after mating, females give birth to several self-sufficient neonates.
June 7, 2007: Early Bird: At Salish Sea nesting sites (Protection Island and Smith Island), most rhinoceros auklet eggs hatch between mid-June and mid-July, but today's early evening observation of an adult auklet carrying three Pacific sand lance (one fish is out of view on the left side) near Protection Island indicates that it already has a hungry youngster in its nesting burrow. Based on the average incubation period of around 6-7 weeks, the young auklet hatched from an egg laid probably in late April. On average, a pair of adults spends about 7 weeks feeding their single nestling before it leaves the burrow and heads to sea. See June 29 and July 10 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
June 6, 2012: A lone sanderling forages on a Salish Sea shore at the northeastern tip of the Olympic Peninsula. In the Pacific Northwest, it's always a treat to see a sanderling in June—the month when they are least numerous in the region. By this time, most of them are on their arctic tundra breeding grounds, but some sanderlings in their first year (or perhaps in poor condition) remain in the nonbreeding range during the breeding season. Much of the pleasure in these late-spring sightings derives from the colorful plumage—a delightful contrast to the predominantly pale gray and white feathering we've seen since last fall.
June 6, 2012: A California darner gives us good look at its exquisite abdominal coloration as it basks on a salal leaf on a cool afternoon. This species flies in spring and early summer; in fact, it's the first dragonfly you're likely to see each year. The larvae develop in lakes and ponds, sometimes slow streams, but this site is an upland forest opening well apart from any suitable breeding habitat, which in this well-wooded part of the Quimper Peninsula would be a pond (at least 0.3 miles away) or small lake (at least 0.75 miles away). What brings it here? Good feeding or basking opportunities? Search for a breeding site better than the one in which it originated? Aimless wandering by a highly mobile insect?
December 12, 2010
June 5, 2024
Today, while following the antics of pigeon guillemots (see following), I'm thrilled to see and photograph a wild harbor seal that I first recorded more than 13 years ago! The seal is far away, but a telephoto shot is clear enough to confirm its identity based on unique details of the head color pattern. This marks the 16th time I've seen this seal (known to me as "Earring") in the waters between Point Wilson and Point Hudson in Port Townsend. All of my previous definitive photo records are from 2010-2014 (a 2007 photo from near Rat Island possibly shows the same seal), so it was especially exciting to see this familiar head pop up this afternoon. Despite the long gap of 10 years, I immediately recognized the seal's distinctive color pattern because it appears in one of my often-presented slide shows. The pale areas on the seal's head have enlarged somewhat over the years, but we don't need facial recognition technology to see that this is the same seal (additional photos and angles show a perfect match, and no other seals I've photographed exhibit anything close to the pattern details shown here). For an astonishing coincidence of repeated observations of another seal, see June 5 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
Like other members of the auk family, guillemots flap their wings and run across the water surface with alternating left-right strides to gain enough speed to take flight.
June 5, 2024: I'm on a Salish Sea pier beneath which multiple nest boxes have been installed for pigeon guillemots. I can't see what's happening in the boxes, but by early June many female guillemots that are at least a few years old should have laid their clutches of one or two eggs—or will do so soon. This afternoon, guillemot pairs and single birds make long looping flights over the water (the pairs flying close together; bottom photo), then disappear under the pier. Before long, they—or others already under the pier—emerge as pairs or singles and fly out over the water. Often the birds settle on the surface with a smooth landing or big splash. They float in pairs, trios, or groups of four. Young nonbreeders are known to inhabit areas near active nesting sites, so I wonder—do the groups of three or four perhaps comprise breeding pairs joined by their nonbreeding offspring from last year? Information on guillemot molting patterns suggests that birds that hatched last year should now have worn, faded primary flight feathers, and some of the birds I see do exhibit this characteristic (top photo), while others (presumably older birds) have glossy, more uniformly dark brown or blackish plumage (except for the white patch on the wings). But without individually marked birds, it's impossible to determine what's going on. Pigeon guillemots, though common and easily observed, tantalize us with their social habits.
June 4, 2019: This egg was abandoned by a killdeer pair soon after the other two eggs in the clutch hatched. Within 24 hours of hatching, the parents led their two chicks away from the nest site, but occasionally an adult returned to this egg and settled on it. Within a few days, the adults completely ignored the still-unhatched egg as they tended their chicks. When it was clear that the egg was truly abandoned, I opened the shell and found the egg to be infertile (it contained lots of yolk and no evidence of embryonic development). For a photo of an adult killdeer and one of the chicks from this same nest, see June 4 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
The pigments that produce the beautifully cryptic colors and patterns such as we see on killdeer eggs (a model for the work of Jackson Pollock?) are synthesized and applied to the shell in the female's uterus (the so-called "shell gland" of the left oviduct).
June 3, 2024: This morning, in a lowland forest, I discover a green Douglas-fir cone that was opened by a Douglas squirrel—the season's first evidence of squirrel use of this year's new cone crop. The cone is small and the seeds are immature, so the squirrel received a meager reward for its efforts. Squirrels often cut and sample Doug-fir cones in June, but cone harvest won't begin in earnest until later in summer.
In the same forest, Pacific rhododendrons still have numerous flowers and attract frequent visits by queen and worker bumble bees. The bees go directly for the nectar and do not actively collect pollen, though some have a bit of pollen sprinkled on their body fuzz.
June 3, 2015: At the marshy margin of a lowland pond, a tightly woven marsh wren nest appears to be precariously attached to the arching stems of bulrushes, a few feet above the water. Nearby, a male marsh wren splutters an assortment of "tuk" notes and varied harsh trills. I see no other nests nearby (male marsh wrens often construct "dummy" nests), wrens are not bringing food to this nest, and no fledglings are around, so perhaps a female is inside incubating her eggs (only the female incubates the eggs and broods the young). The long nesting season sometimes begins in late winter and may extend through early summer. See June 7 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
June 3, 2007: A thatching ant drags an isopod (pillbug, sowbug) carcass across its nest mound. These beneficial native ants prey on other invertebrates, scavenge dead animals, sip nectar, and consume insect honeydew (sweet excretions). Some of the worker ants have a red head while others have a narrower head that matches the body color. See also May 21, 2011 (below).
June 3, 2007: In Port Townsend, a small long-horned beetle (Pidonia scripta) visits black hawthorn blossoms, which provide the insect's favored foods (nectar, pollen, and delicate flower parts). Though beetles are less efficient pollinators than, say, bumble bees, they do transport pollen as they move among flowers and can be effective pollinators even if somewhat destructive. The beetle shown here belongs to a group appropriately known as "flower long-horned beetles."
June 2, 2024: Strong winds following rain showers bring down enormous numbers of spent pollen cones from Douglas-fir trees in the same forest where I documented an earlier (but lesser) pulse of these falling "microsporangiate strobili" (the technical botanical term for pollen cones). See May17, 2024.
June 2, 2015: Frequent bicycle travel gives me a close look at an unfortunately large number of road kills, and I try to pay my respects to these victims of vehicular homicide by learning and sharing something from them. Today, on a dirt road through a Douglas-fir forest, I come across the first and only red crossbill I've seen dead on a road. Crossbills sometimes forage on the seeds of fallen conifer cones, and I suppose that's what led to this bird's demise (the road is littered with fallen cones). Bodily trauma during or after the kill event forced both eyes out of the skull, providing a vivid, if ghastly, manifestation of the enormity of these organs. The eyes clearly occupy a very large proportion of the skull, even though they do not seem so big in the live bird. This isn't unique to crossbills but rather a characteristic feature of birds, whose lives depend so much on vision.
June 1, 2014: I carefully work my way into what seems to qualify as a "forest" of stinging nettle—several of the plants are 8 feet tall (upper photo). Close examination of the tiny unisexual flowers reveals that the female (seed) flowers are concentrated at the top of the plant; under magnification, they have a frosty appearance (middle photo), Clusters of male (pollen) flowers, each with four hard-to-see stamens that release pollen to the wind, attach at the leaf axils lower down on the stalk of the same plant (bottom photo). Stinging nettle—infamous for its one disagreeable characteristic—serves as food for butterfly caterpillars (satyr comma, Milbert's tortoiseshell, red admiral) and has an impressive number of practical uses (too many to review here). Many people collect and eat the nutritious new leaves of young plants (after suitable processing). The seeds, too, are edible and full of nourishment. Foragers recommend sprinkling them on bread or burger buns before baking. See April 14, 2024.
June 1, 2014: A male tule bluet basks on warm ground near the Kah Tai Lagoon in Port Townsend. Others perch horizontally on herbaceous plants or fly over land or water. This common damselfly inhabits marshy ponds, lakes, and slow streams across much of North America. In the Pacific Northwest, the flight season extends from April into October or November. Females insert eggs into bulrushes at or below the waterline, often while the male clamps onto her. The life cycle lasts one year: eggs laid this year yield larvae that will metamorphose into adults next year. Individual adults live only a few weeks. Adults and larvae prey on other insects.
Damselfly larvae have a big head and three gills at the rear end of the body. Bluet larvae climb on submerged vegetation.
May 31, 2024: In spring, summer, and fall, I regularly add water to a shallow depression in a small clearing in the lowland forest where I live. Over the seasons, I can count on two to three dozen bird species drinking or bathing in the puddle. Upper: The female purple finch shown here is a frequent puddle user, but so far this spring I haven't seen her rose-red mate take a dip, though he does visit a nearby bird feeder. Lower: It's always a thrill when a Townsend's warbler descends from the treetops for a bath, adding a "splash" of color to the little puddle.
May 31, 2024: After determining that I am not a threat, a female black-tailed deer remains vigilant as her 2.5-week-old fawn nurses. Her alertness is warranted—trail camera images indicate that one or two coyotes travel this path on a daily basis, day or night. The fawn nurses for a minute, then nibbles some of the nearby soft herbaceous foliage before the two move slowly into thicker cover.
May 31, 2007: A hike in the eastern Olympic Mountains yields good looks at a ruffed grouse in the lowlands (top photo) and a sooty grouse among the shrubby conifers near the high ridges (bottom photo). The female ruffed grouse shown here stands guard near several tiny chicks (hidden in the grass). At higher elevations, the subalpine landscape resonates with the ventriloquial hoots of male sooty grouse.
May 31, 2007: At an elevation of 5,200 feet in the eastern Olympic Mountains, we bushwhack to the edge of a partially melted-out pond and discover dozens of active Cascades frogs, including several mating pairs. A few unmated males call while completely submerged (rapid "uh-uh-uh-uh..."). Wet areas near the pond sparkle with wildlfowers (below).
white marsh marigold
snowpatch buttercup
white globeflower
May 30, 2008: At this time of year, it's easy to get absorbed in the lives of birds, such as the song sparrows, Bewick's wrens, and bushtits that are now so preoccupied with feeding their fledglings. But today, in Olympic Peninsula lowlands, I encounter another embodiment of the springtime breeding boom—March flies (Bibio albipennis)! As the sun comes out this afternoon, I spend some time watching bumble bees sipping nectar from rhododendron flowers and blooming brambles, while spring azures satisfy their sugar cravings on forget-me-nots. But I soon get distracted by the big swarms of hovering, slow-moving March flies that fill the air near the bees, butterflies, and blossoms. Some of the flies (such as the huge-eyed male in the photo) take a break and bask on leaves. Named "March flies" because many members of this Diptera family are on the wing in early spring, adults of the species shown here appear in April, May, and June in most of the Pacific Northwest. Supposedly, March flies are also called "lovebugs," because the adults spend so much of their lives mating, but no one I know has ever noticed these insects, and if they did they surely wouldn't know what to call them. Larval March flies spend their lives hidden away in soils, decaying leaves, rotting logs, or dung. March 30, 2024: There's no sign of March flies at the 2008 site, but today—as on the same date 16 years ago—it's easy to feast on rhododendron and forget-me-not flowers, bumble bees, and spring azures!
May 30, 2015: A fledgling American robin (left) begs to be fed, but its parent—after several days of feeding its fledglings—is racheting down its parental responsibilities and not so quick to provide a meal. The robin pair that raised this fledgling may in fact have a second nesting effort underway—and soon a new brood of hungry nestlings.
May 29, 2024: Over the past week, snap traps set inside our dwelling have captured several deermice overnight. Each morning, I place a dead mouse in front of a trail camera along a nearby lowland forest path. By late afternoon (sometimes within 30 minutes), a raven arrives, grasps the little rodent with its bill, positions it with the tail projecting outward, and flies away. This morning I put out two mice. Around 1:00 pm, a raven took both of them at once. Are these mice cached for later consumption, shared with a mate, or fed to young?
May 28, 2013: While many familiar lichens attach to rocks, logs, or trees, some—such as this many-forked cladonia near Port Townsend—grow on humus-rich soils of forest floors (but, like all lichens, they lack roots). Lichens are associations of fungi and green algae or cyanobacteria ("photobionts") that together form a specific type of vegetative structure. Depending on the lichen, the fungus and photobiont benefit each other in diverse ways and to various degrees. The fungal component of Cladonia forms the bulk of the lichen. The algal partner is a photosynthesizer that produces sugars and other carbohydrates needed by the lichen. Some lichens (but not Cladonia) have both algae and cyanobacteria, in which case the latter function primarily as a nitrogen "fixer" (converting atmospheric nitrogen into a form that can be used by plants). In the Pacific Northwest, Cladonia lichens serve as food for snails, slugs, certain Lepidoptera caterpillars, grouse, voles, and various hoofed mammals. However, these lichens produce usnic acid. a bitter/toxic substance that may deter grazing by certain animals, though lichen-eaters have gut microbes that apparently can detoxify usnic acid.
May 27, 2024: As I bicycle to the piers near the Northwest Maritime Center in Port Townsend, I'm greeted by a barking cacophany of several California sea lions hauled out on and swimming around a dock. All are mature males with a prominent saggital crest, which creates a prominent bump on the head. Evidently these males are not in their prime, else they would be down south at the breeding rookeries in southern California and Baja California at this time of year. One male with extensive pale-tan head coloration may be past his prime, while some of the others appear to be "pre-prime" (males mature at least a few years before they are powerful enough to successfully defend a territory and gain access to females). Many males (and sometimes females) forage in the Salish Sea and other food-rich waters well north of the breeding range (as far as southeast Alaska). Seeing them hauled out on the dock today is an unexpected treat, as they have rarely done so in recent decades.
May 27, 2008: I discover a flat porcelain crab under an intertidal rock in the eastern Strait of Juan de Fuca, where the species reaches its eastern (inland) limit. This little crab (carapace width is less than one inch) lives in rocky areas of the upper and middle intertidal zones, mostly on the outer coast, from British Columbia to southern California. The crab's flattened shape allows it to seclude itself in narrow crevices between rocks. If this crustacean looks a bit odd, that's because it is more closely related to hermit crabs and mole crabs than to familiar true crabs such as Dungeness crab and red rock crab. The strong claws are used in territorial battles. Porcelain crabs feed by waving feathery appendages near the mouth to extract plankton and detritus from the water. "Porcelain" refers to the crab's fragility; when seized, the legs readily detach.
May 27, 2014: Schools of surf smelt swim near piers along the Salish Sea coast in Port Townsend. My observations of this behavior extend from April through October (mostly May-July). Surf smelt spawn in daytime near high tide in the upper intertidal zones of coarse sand and fine gravel beaches. These zooplankton eaters are a food resource for salmon, Caspian terns, harbor seals, harbor porpoises, and other marine fish eaters, including people. Recipe: No need to remove fish scales. Behead and gut (or not), coat with seasoned flour/bread crumbs or batter, fry on each side in hot oil until crispy brown. Bones soften when cooked and can be eaten.
May 26, 2024: I'm back at the red alder snag (see May 24, 2024). The hairy woodpeckers and brown creepers remain busy feeding their nestlings. Food deliveries by the creepers (top photo) are much more frequent than those of the woodpeckers. The woodpecker nestlings sometimes peer out of the cavity opening, but I've not yet seen the young creepers, which remain hidden within their crevice. In addition to their incessant begging calls, the woodpecker nestlings now also produce "peek" and rattle calls that sound very much like those of the adults.
May 26, 2024: In late May, the bright new foliage of broad-leaved and coniferous evergreens begins to overshadow the leaves from previous years, and the fresh growth is now what catches our eyes. In this photo, new leaves of Pacific rhododendron project above the flowers and older foliage. Most of the older leaves are 1-2 years old, with a small number that have survived 3 years.
May 26, 2024: New pale-green needles of western hemlock contrast with the older, darker foliage, which will live up to several years (mostly 4 or fewer) before dying and falling from the tree. This is one of several young hemlocks (plus some young western redcedars) that are growing in the shade beneath older, taller Douglas-firs and red alders. The forest understory is completely devoid of young Doug-firs and alders due to the shade and thick leaf litter than prevent successful germination and seedling establishment.
May 25, 2024: I confront a northern red-legged frog as it forages along the mossy edge of a lowland forest, far from any pond or lake (breeding habitat). It looks like it's grinning at me, but that's just a figment of the camera angle. I catch the frog as it leaps toward shrubby cover, and I get a good look at its flamboyant legs. The coloration is normal, not a product of infection or inflammation. The legs become red as the frogs mature and gradually become more vibrant with age. Why the red coloration? Perhaps it warns of the red-legged frog's noxious (but not toxic) skin secretions. Or might it benefit the frogs through mimicry of the coloration of toxic rough-skinned newts that live in the same habitats? These possibilities need further study.
May 25, 2008: A female sweat bee (upper photo) collects pollen from a Pacific rhododendron flower. This small bee is one of the vast number of ground-nesting members of the genus Lasioglossum. The showy blooms of this native rhododendron also attract hummingbirds, tiny beetles, many bumble bees (see May 15, 2024), and various hover flies (lower photo).
May 24, 2024: Pacific sideband snails are native air-breathing gastropods that thrive in lowland forests of the Pacific Northwest. Sometimes they climb high into trees. I'm happy to report that these handsome mollusks are the most common snail in the Douglas-fir & red alder forest where I live. Sidebands cruise in the open primarily from March through November, with a peak during moist, mild weather in May. Their diet consists of plant material, biofilms, and fungi. The snails have both male and female sex organs and mate with one another in an elaborate ritual that involves "stabbing" one another with hormone-laced "love darts." This appears to facilitate effective sperm flow between the two snails. Eventually they deposit dozens of eggs in damp sites.
May 23, 2024: The four goslings in this Canada goose family take different approaches to grazing grasses: two prefer to feed while standing or walking slowly, while the other two habitually plop down on their bellies to graze. Eventually the seated goslings stand up, take a few steps, then plop down again to pluck more grass.
May 23, 2024, a day to appreciate the value of snags (standing dead trees). A pair of hairy woodpeckers makes many food deliveries to their incessantly begging nestlings in a cavity near the broken-off top of a red alder snag at the edge of a lowland forest near Port Townsend.
Upper photo: In the same snag used by the woodpeckers (but lower on the trunk), a cryptic brown creeper brings a billful of crane flies to its nest in a crevice behind the bark (visible at left). Middle photo: An adult creeper enters the nesting crevice. Both creeper parents make many such food deliveries as I stand nearby. Bottom photo, nest sanitation: One of the creeper adults exits the nest crevice with a fecal sac expelled by a nestling. This is a characteristic behavior of nesting songbirds.
May 23, 2024: Near the red alder snag used by the nesting hairy woodpeckers and brown creepers, a big conifer snag serves as an excellent perch for an olive-sided flycatcher, recently returned to the Pacific Northwest from its winter range (primarily South America). The bird periodically sallies far from its perch, nabs a flying insect, then returns to the same branch. It forages silently (perhaps it's a female) but gives us a full view of its foraging flights. Often we hear the emphatic "quick, THREE BEERS!" songs of this species but strain to catch a glimpse of the vocalist and its activities, so today is a sweet treat.
May 23, 2010: As we peer into tidepools along the south side of Indian Island on the Salish Sea coast, we see mostly a jumble of shells and stones Then, aha! Our eyes suddenly decipher a yellow shore crab (upper photo) and tidepool sculpin (lower) against their fragmented microhabitats. Beautifully cryptic, the crab and fish easily elude detection when immobile. We—and potential predators—notice them most readily when they move. See May 6 below.
May 22, 2024: On urban rip-rap along the Salish Sea coast, non-native starlings frequently feed on small intertidal animals that shelter among rockweeds (brown algae). This adult may be searching for food for its young, but its casual demeanor suggests that it is feeding itself, not particularly hungry, and likely free of pressing parental responsibilities. Parents feeding large, loudly begging nestlings or recent fledglings—now numerous near this site—tend to be frantic nonstop foragers. During winter, and spring and fall migration, black turnstones and surfbirds feed and roost on these rocks, foraging especially on those encrusted with barnacles.
May 21, 2014: Near the Big Quilcene River in the eastern Olympic Mountains, the unfurling foliage of devil's club catches our eye.
May 21, 2011. Upper: In a lowland Douglas-fir forest, I discover a dead Trowbridge's shrew (posed for this photo). Middle: Here's another Trowbridge's shrew found dead in late May. This one was scavenged by thatching ants (beneficial native insects that construct large mounds; see March 10 & 27 in A Naturalists Year in the Pacific Northwest). Deceased shrews commonly appear on the ground for reasons that are not fully understood but likely reflect a reluctance of certain mammalian predators to eat them after making a kill. Perhaps this is due to the shrews' malodorous skin gland secretions (most evident in mature males). Avian raptors and snakes seem to eat shrews without hesitation. Lower: This Trowbridge's shrew is a female, evident from her naked teats. Shrews have 6 teats, though only 4 are visible here. In Washington and Oregon, females most often produce litters of 3-4 young.
May 20, 2024: 5:15 pm: Almost two weeks after I deposit the dead opossum in front of a trail camera (see May 8, 2024 and following), a coyote finds the odorous remains irresistable. It sniffs the carcass, then rolls over and vigorously rubs its back and sides directly on top of it. It repeats this several times over two minutes, then gives itself a quick shake and trots away. The photo shows the coyote between rolling episodes. The carcass is in the harsh lighting at lower left.
May 20, 2011: In a lowland forest clearing, an oreas comma makes an appearance in an area where satyr commas are much more numerous. Currant is the usual larval host for oreas, whereas stinging nettle (more profuse here than currant) hosts satyrs. Both species overwinter as adults. The shape of the silvery figure on the underside of the hindwing is a helpful marker when identifying commas. In oreas, it looks something like a flying bird, or, at one angle, clock hands at 4:00. The ragged and strongly lobed wing margins also signal oreas.
May 20, 2024: Too preoccupied to take a photo! I'm riding my bicycle along Water Street in Port Townsend when up ahead I see a deer fawn in the busy roadway, struggling unsuccessfully to get over the concrete "Jersey barrier" that divides the street from the steep slope at the base of the bluff, where its mother stands looking down at its babe. Traffic is backed up in both directions as drivers try to give the little fawn some room. I ditch my bike and walk toward the fawn, speaking softly. I stop as it comes toward me and sniffs my outsretched hand. In a decisive but gentle move, I wrap my arms around the fawn and lift it over the barrier as it bleats loudly in protest. After I lower it to the ground, I look up and there's momma, staring me in the face. As I back away, the fawn stands up and climbs with difficulty up the slope to join its mother. I get a big thumbs up from the motorists who watched all this. Happily I proceed homeward. Later, I recall that the fawn didn't feel very heavy and barely struggled. Its loud cries reminded me of the vocalizations of a fawn that was attacked by a coyote (see June 4 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest).
May 20, 2024: A Virginia rail forages intently along the marshy edge of a lowland pond in Port Townsend. Long toes keep the rail from sinking as it walks across the soft muck. It probes the mud deeply and rapidly with its lengthy down-curved bill.
Now and then the rail extracts wormy prey or perhaps fly larvae, then walks into a dense stand of bulrushes, where it feeds a black, downy juvenile well hidden among the stems and shadows. For 20 minutes, I wait and watch quietly, hoping the youngster will come out into the open, but it never does.
May 20, 2024: A brown elfin nectars on an English daisy in a weedy/mossy clearing in a lowland forest. Though brown elfins occur widely in many habitats in the Pacific Northwest, this is the first one I've seen here in 17 years, perhaps because the clearing is significantly larger and more flowery than it was in previous years. Adults fly in spring and early summer. On this cool, sunny day, the elfin flew rapidly and visited several daisy flowers, lingering on each one with its wings closed and held at a more or less right angle to the sun, presumably to maximize solar heating. Brown elfins winter as pupae. The larvae eat many kinds of plants, often shrubby evergreens or deciduous species.
May 19, 2024: Lots of activity today at a hairy woodpecker nest cavity that was under construction one month ago (see April 19, 2024). Both parents deliver food, brood the nestlings, and remove fecal sacs from the nest (bottom photo). Sometimes an adult that has brought food to the nest stays inside the cavity until its mate returns (top photo), at which point it departs, and the newly arrived adult enters the nest. In the middle photo, the male has just exited the cavity many minutes prior to the return of the female. Food items delivered to the nest this morning include a fat beetle grub, plus other small unidentifiable items. The nestlings emit soft begging trills that we can hear from about 30 feet away. On two occasions, a red-breasted nuthatch moved down the tree trunk peered inside the cavity, then flew off. Immediately after one of these nuthatch visits, the adult woodpecker in the cavity appeared at the opening, looked around, then retreated back inside the cavity.
May 18, 2024: Near Port Townsend, a Bewick's wren nest contains three eggs, nestled in a deep cup centered in a sprawling mass of twigs, grass, western redcedar foliage, feathers, and hair (and nicely framed by two upright feathers). Bewick's wrens commonly nest in human-made situations, and this nest is secluded among a pile of stored wooden shingles covered by a sheet of plastic. The female is already incubating this clutch, so it is complete or nearly so (perhaps one more egg may be added), though Bewick's wrens average around 5-6 eggs. This afternoon, as I watch the nest site, the male delivers food to the incubating female.
High in tall Douglas-firs at Fort Townsend Historical State Park, I hear the season's first (for me) "quick, THREE BEERS!" vocalizations of an olive-sided flycatcher. This long-distance migrant nests in many coniferous forests and groves, including burned forests, throughout much of the Pacific Northwest. See May 23, 2024.
May 18, 2015: A western meadowlark makes a late-season appearance at Point Wilson on the northeastern tip of the Olympic Peninsula. Numbers seen here (a nonbreeding site) drop off greatly after March. Where did this bird spend the winter? Why is it not already on the breeding grounds, and where might that be? The species' breeding range extends north to central British Columbia and Alberta. The birds winter as far south as central Mexico. Between is a large area where western meadowlarks can be seen year-round. The migrations of western meadowlarks and other moderate- or short-distance migrants often are more mysterious that those of globe-trotters. See also November 6, 2017, above.
May 17, 2024: Anderson Lake on the Quimper Peninsula has a dense bloom of cyanobacteria than has produced dangerous levels of anatoxins—so much that the lake is officially closed to recreational use. Toxic blooms have occurred here every year in recent decades, and multiple dogs have died from drinking the toxic water. This sad situation is a consequence of human activities. Historical livestock grazing on an area of the shoreline and decades of annual stocking of exotic rainbow trout resulted in a prolonged unnatural surge of nutrients into the lake. This created an environment in which anatoxin-producing cyanobacteria proliferated in the lake, which formerly had different cyanobacteria and good water. Despite ecological maltreatment of the lake, various wildlife species still exist in the tainted waters. Our very limited sampling in the lake shallows today yields a single newt larva, a water scorpion, many dragonfly and damselfly nymphs, a few mayfly larvae, tiny aquatic beetles, several leeches, amphipods, numerous non-native mysterysnails, and additional forms too small to identify without magnification. Northern red-legged frogs forage along the lake margin, and waterfowl (Canada goose, mallard) swim nearby. But what would we have found if the lake had been protected from abuse? Perhaps a richer, more prolific aquatic biota. Certainly we'd have safe water that wouldn't prevent you from enjoying the beautiful lake or kill your thirsty dog. Ecological ignorance and carelessness often come with a steep cost. [Lake photo from August 2015]
May 17, 2024: As the sun breaks through the clouds near the shore of Anderson Lake on the Quimper Pninsula, gartersnakes emerge to bask on this cool day. The one shown here is a common gartersnake (Thamnophis sirtalis), of which we also capture a larger pregnant female. We find a northwestern gartersnake (T. ordinoides) in the same area and habitat occupied by T. sirtalis. Do they compete, or do they have ecological differences that facilitate coexistence?
May 17, 2024: On the northern Quimper Peninsula, Large numbers of spent pollen cones (and some old needles) have fallen from Douglas-fir trees over the past couple of days.
In the magnificent lush forest along Chimacum Creek near Eaglemount Road (Quimper Peninsula), I hear the season's first Swainson's thrush whistle-chatter calls. The thrush does not sing this afternoon, but perhaps it sang softly at dawn.
May 16, 2024: Tree swallows struggle with signage: "I think it means that we're not supposed to poop here. Oops."
May 16, 2024: Tree swallows struggle with signage: "Okay, then why put up a nesting box here?!"
May 15, 2024: This afternoon I'm initially astonished to see six turkey vultures flying very low over the lowland forest canopy where I live, then I realize that they are directly above the opossum carcass (see May 8-9 and following). They circle just above the trees for a few minutes, then drift away without attempting to land. In the absence of carrion, vultures never fly low or circle over this forested site (it lacks good updrafts), and these carrion feeders are highly sensitive to the odor of dead animals, so undoubtedly they were initially attracted here today by the carcass odor. Why did they leave without feeding? Perhaps the carcass's small size and advanced stage of decay (determined by sight and smell as the vultures circled) precluded further investigation. Maybe all the tree branches made it too difficult to access the carcass without risk of injury.
May 15, 2024: Along a lowland forest edge near Port Townsend, Pacific rhododendron has reached its flowering peak, 3.5 weeks after the first flowers opened. Bumble bee queens and workers (daughters of queens that overwintered) are the prime visitors. The bees appear to focus on nectar collection, though they get dusted with pollen in the process. In addition to the spots on the flowers that we can see, rhododendron blooms have ultraviolet patterns that are visible to bees but not to people. These UV "nectar guides" attract bees and increase their foraging efficiency. The plants benefit through an improved probability of pollination and augmented seed production.
May 15, 2024: 12:36 am: The first fawn of the year appears in front of my trail camera. Its mother stops five feet short of the opossum carcass (see May 8-9 and following), sniffs the air, then backs up, turns around, and goes back the way she came, with her fawn on her heels. Did she not like the carcass odor? Perhaps more likely she responded to the scent of coyotes that have urinated and scratched the ground in that spot.
May 14, 2024: Young have fledged from the song sparrow nest I mentioned on May 9! Both parents forage somewhat frenetically and periodically jam various insects into the waiting mouths of at least three fledglings scattered low in the undergrowth of a lowland forest edge. Despite their diligent caregiving, the adults take time to bathe in a nearby puddle, and the male sings now and then between food deliveries.
Near the song sparrows, a western tanager begins singing today—the season's first tanager songs in this forest. For the past several days, I heard only the male's distinctive "pit-ti-tick" calls (see May 9). Today he starts tentatively with short song phrases, then gradually sings more emphatically, "like a hoarse robin," as the song is aptly described.
May 13, 2024: As I sit in one of my favorite hangouts along a lowland forest edge, a male American goldfinch and a male Wilson's warbler land in the same Pacific rhododendron, arriving only a few seconds apart—a felicitous color convergence! A female goldfinch accompanies the male, and they seem interested in the bird feeder hanging nearby but do not visit (it contains black oil sunflower seeds, but they prefer smaller seeds). The warbler has been singing incessantly all day (and he is likely the one that has been doing so here for the past several days). He averages about six songs per minute and certainly lets loose with a few thousand songs throughout the day. He has his eye on the puddle below the rhody, and eventually he drops down to bathe. Though similar in coloration, the two species are utterly different ecologically—as clearly indicated by the stout, seed-cracking bill of the goldfinch versus the slim, insect-tweezing bill of the warbler.
May 12, 2024: In mid- to late April, the earliest purple martins began returning to the Pacific Northwest from their winter quarters in South America. Now they are back in full force and busy examining and claiming nest boxes that may serve as good places to lay eggs and raise young. Though many purple martins nest in boxes or gourds set up specifically for them, some nest in tree cavities or similar crevices or nooks in natural features or human-made structures. Given numerous nest sites, martin pairs nest very close to one another. Adults commonly return to the same nesting area used in previous years, and sometimes they nest in the same nest box or cavity.
May 12, 2024: Upper: A glaucous-winged gull finds a jumbo-size cockle during this afternoon's very low tide. The gull walks several steps while carrying the big clam in its bill before dropping it. After several unsuccessful attempts to take off with the bulky bivalve, the gull tries a novel grip (shown here)—while seemingly "cheered on" by its loudly vocalizing mate standing nearby. Alas, the gull is unable to take flight and eventually abandons its prodigious prize. Generally, a glaucous-winged gull easily flies up with a cockle, drops it on the rocks, and thereby obtains a succulent meal when the shell breaks open (see January 14 and February 16 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). This one was simply too big and heavy for the "airlift" method (and too thick-shelled to penetrate by pecking).
Middle and Lower: Glaucous-winged gull pairs are spending a lot of time together these days, sharing meals or simply relaxing. The nesting season is getting underway, though many pairs—such as the comfortably situated couple shown here—have not yet completed their nests or laid eggs. The top pf a big SUV parked beside Port Townsend Bay might not be a bad place to nest, if only the owner would take up bicycling....
May 11, 2024: A golden-crowned kinglet gives me a close look as I sit quietly with my camera at the edge of a lowland forest dominated by Douglas-fir, red alder, and western redcedar. Because kinglets are common and widely distributed, birders sometimes take them for granted, but the handsome little birds warrant our full respect. For instance, golden-crowned kinglets are North America's tiniest songbird, with an average body weight of only 0.21 ounces, significantly less than a Pacific wren (0.32 ounces). Despite their dimunitive stature, golden-crowneds readily endure and stay warm through long, bitterly cold winter nights (see January 2 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). The world's six species of kinglets are a fascinating little group whose evolutionary relationships to other songbirds remain poorly understood.
May 11, 2024: In recognition of "Global Big Day" (a birding event), I record the birds I see or hear in the mature mixed forest where I live near Port Townsend, an area contiguous with the Quimper Wildlife Corridor. The listed birds were detected from near the center of a parcel encompassing about 5 acres, including the forest, some small openings, and shrubby edges. My count started at midnight last night and ended at midnight tonight. The numerals in parentheses indicate the minimum number of individuals detected, but these are conservative values. The total number of birds present was certainly larger, as silent birds easily escape detection, I didn't spend much time along the parcel fringes, and in some cases it was impossible to determine whether a detection was a new individual or a bird previously counted. I didn't include a few additional species that were present near (but not within) the count area.
Glaucous-winged gull (1) - flew over
Band-tailed pigeon (1)
Anna’s hummingbird (1)
Cooper’s hawk (1)
Barred owl (2)
Red-breasted sapsucker (1)
Downy woodpecker (1)
Hairy woodpecker (2)
Pileated woodpecker (1)
Western flycatcher (2)
Cassin's vireo (1)
Hutton's vireo (1)
American crow (1)
Common raven (2)
Black-capped chickadee (2)
Chestnut-backed chickadee (2)
Golden-crowned kinglet (1-2)
Red-breasted nuthatch (2)
Pacific wren (2)
American robin (3)
Varied thrush (1)
Purple finch (2)
Pine siskin (1-2)
American goldfinch (2)
Dark-eyed junco (2)
Song sparrow (4)
Spotted towhee (1)
Orange-crowned warbler (1)
Black-throated gray warbler (1-2)
Townsend’s warbler (1)
Wilson’s warbler (1)
Western tanager (1)
May 11, 2024: 5:45 am: A coyote sniffs the opossum carcass (see May 8-9), urinates next to it, and departs without feeding. 6:40 am - 1:33 pm: A single raven makes several visits to the carcass, pecks into the body cavity, and does some feeding. UPDATE: Overnight, through May 12 at 8:00 am, the trail camera records no additional visits by coyote or raven. The dreadfully aromatic carcass now teems with 1/4-inch-long fly larvae.
May 10, 2024: At 7:00 am, as I photograph coyote scrapes made last night, I inadvertently interrupt a chestnut-backed chickadee as it gathers opossum fur that had been pulled off of a carcass by a raven yesterday evening (see May 8-9). I get a quick photo as the chickadee perches on a piece of wood and arranges its hairy cargo. Evidently it wants more, as it soon lands on the ground again and collects additional fur. Then it flies off out of view with the fur in its bill. Later it makes at least a few more fur-collecting expeditions to the opossum carcass (bottom photo). Chickadees use mammal fur to line their tree-cavity nests, so now I know that there's a nest somewhere nearby.
Later this morning, two chickadees move around in a red alder tree near the carcass. One of the birds flies to the other and feeds it a tiny food item, then they're off on their separate ways. Males are known to feed their mates, so that's presumably what happened here.
coyote scrape from last night (my shoe for scale)
western tanager
song sparrow
May 9, 2024: After a clear night in early May, it's always fun to step outside in the morning and listen for newly arrived migrant songbirds. In the lowland forest where I live near Port Townsend, all the likely warblers showed up over the past two weeks. Yesterday, Cassin's vireo made its first appearance (but they never remain to nest here). This morning, the season's first western tanager arrived. Western tanagers winter in Mexico and Central America and nest northward to southern Alaska and adjacent Canada. This morning's tanager called loudly but did not sing. Will it remain (a pair usually nests here) or continue its migration?
Meanwhile, song sparrows are feeding nestlings near the calling tanager. The female sparrow shown here delivers a crane fly and other unidentified items to her young, while her mate sings nearby.
May 8, 2024: Yesterday afternoon (3:35 pm), I deposited the opossum carcass (see May 7, 2024) in front of a trail camera along a lowland forest path near Port Townsend. Here's a record of subsequent events:
12:47-12:49 am : A young coyote sniffs the air as it cautiously approaches the carcass but does not touch it.
8:20 am: A raven arrives (top photo) and begins feeding on carcass, accessing its interior through the pouch opening.
8:32 am: The raven departs as a coyote approaches; coyote withdraws, then cautiously approaches again.
8:34 am: A coyote sniffs the carcass, lifts a leg, and urinates on it. This coyote is more robust than the one that appeared last night; not the same one.
8:35 am: The coyote again lifts a leg and urinates on and next to the cacass (second photo), then departs without feeding.
9:19-9:29 am: A raven feeds on the carcass while standing on it.
9:52 am - 12:55 pm: A single raven makes five visits to the carcass, each time feeding while standing on it.
2:11-2:18 pm: Two ravens feed on the carcass (one usually stands on it).
2:18 pm: One raven departs.
2:21 pm: The other raven departs.
2:25-4:19 pm: A single raven makes five more visits lasting 1-7 minutes; feeding while standing atop the carcass.
11:16 pm: A coyote visits the carcass but does not feed.
11:40 pm: An adult female deer cautiously sniffs the carcass.
May 9
6:50 am: A coyote sniffs the ground next to the carcass, then twice rolls over and rubs its back on the ground before departing without feeding (bottom three photos). The photos almost make it look like the coyote is taunting the hapless opossum by mimicking its deceased posture, but maybe it is just being a loyal member of the dog family and rolling in something smelly (in this case, coyote urine and bits of opossum entrails pulled out by the ravens).
7:04- 7:57 pm: A raven makes two visits to the carcass, pulls out and discards clumps of fur, feeds on exposed flesh.
10:33 pm: A coyote sniffs the carcass, walks away, then scratches strongly with its hind feet (and a little with its front feet), creating conspicuous scrapes (bare areas and dislodged vegetation) on the mossy/grassy ground, 8 feet and 16 feet from the carcass.
May 8, 2024: Common broom—native to Europe and northern Africa—is at its flowering peak in a deforested area along the Larry Scott Trail near Port Townsend. Bumble bees and non-native honey bees are primary pollinators of the intensely yellow blooms, though they're scarce today.
This troublesome invasive shrub (aka Scotch broom or Scot's broom) completely dominates the sandy field here. Nearby, it is overgrowing Cascade barberry and other native trailside plants. Common broom has many features that allow it to thrive along roadsides, in clearings, and in other disturbed/open landscapes in the Pacific Northwest. Its green twigs can photosynthesize and support growth even when the plants are leafless (e.g., in winter, during drought, or if the plants have been defoliated). Nitrogen-fixing bacteria in the roots enable the plant to overcome deficiencies in nutrient-poor soils. Additionally, the shrubs produce tremendous numbers of seeds that can remain viable in the soil for decades. See August 12 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
May 7, 2024: While bicycling home on the northern Quimper Peninsula, I find a dead opossum along the roadside. This domestic-cat-size marsupial is not native to the Pacific Northwest but is now well established in many areas. My catalog of road kills and trail camera images suggest that the opossum's range and abundance have increased in the region over the past decade.
Let's take this opportunity to look closely at the opossum's feet. They're quite unlike those of any native mammal. The front foot (upper photo) has five clawed toes and beefy pads on the palm. The rear foot has a thumblike, clawless inner toe. In opossum tracks, the toes generally are more widely spread than evident here, and the big inner toe of the hind foot may point backward. See December 13 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
The carcass is an adult female, so we can also examine the opossum's marsupium (belly pouch), into which I stuffed some fabric to show more clearly the size and shape of the opening. The pouch interior contained no young, but it had been scavenged and damaged (by a rat?), so the female's reproductive status is unclear.
It's hard to imagine, but opossum gestation lasts only 12-13 days. Kidney-bean-size newborns manage to crawl the long few inches from their mother's vaginal opening to her pouch, where they find a nipple and suckle for several weeks. Litter size in the pouch averages around 6-9. Young are weaned a few months after birth but may cling to their mother's back for a few additional weeks before heading off on their own (or with one or more siblings).
May 7, 2017: Along a Salish Sea shore, a bald eagle calmly scans nearby waters for a potential meal, perhaps fish or waterfowl, while a crow voices its extreme displeasure with the presence of the big predator so close to its nest. The contents of the crow's nest are not visible, but the nest likely contains eggs: it is still relatively early in the crow nesting cycle, and the adult crows don't seem to be feeding nestlings.
Bald eagles are highly opportunistic when it comes to getting a meal. They readily catch live prey and often scavenge dead ones. Sometimes they snatch prey captured by other animals. In the Salish Sea, river otters are regular targets of eagle kleptoparasitism (prey thievery). At this site, I saw an eagle swoop down at an otter swimming to shore with a large fish, but the otter dove and managed to retain its catch.
May 6: At close range, the bold color pattern of a hatchling killdeer might seem to render it too easily seen by a predator, but at a distance this "disruptive coloration" serves as excellent camouflage by creating apparent edges and borders where there are none and breaking up the bird's true outline. This also applies to adult killdeer (such as when sitting on eggs or brooding young; see April 24 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest) and to many other animal species with high-contrast color patterns.
May 6: When they sense danger, killdeer chicks may crouch down onto the ground and remain motionless, a tactic that takes adavantage of their multiple-use color pattern by making them fully cryptic and difficult to detect from above (often a predator's perspective), even at close range.
Around the Salish Sea, the earliest killdeer chicks appear in April. Late clutches may not hatch until July. These photos look back to May 6, 2011.
May 5, 2024: In a patchwork of mature and young forest and fields on the Quimper Peninsula, male black-tailed deer have obvious but variable antler growth by early May, when some antlers are larger than those shown here, while others are smaller. Today I saw a male with short antlers like these, but he eluded my camera, so I've inserted an image from the same location taken exactly 16 years ago (May 5, 2008). Let's see, the deer in the photo plausibly could be the great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather of the deer I saw today (not so many "greats" if he or some of his descendents were "older parents"). The eventual size of a deer's antlers depends mostly on his age, nutritional status, and genetics. Compared to some other males I've seen during the first week of May (for example, see May 2 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest), this male is relatively young, has slender antler beginnings, and likely ended up with small antlers.
May 5, 2024: Along a lowland forest edge, I briefly interrupt a one-year-old black-tailed deer as it grooms itself and ruminates during a light mid-afternoon rain. Note that it is bedded down in bedstraw (see yesterday's account)! It occurs to me that deer (and perhaps raccoons and coyotes) may be primary dispersal agents for bedstraw: seed-bearing bedstraw fragments may be transported substantial distances while clinging to mammal hair. For information on rumination, see September 20 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
May 5, 2024: Warbling vireos started returning to the northeastern Olympic Peninsula during the last week of April, and now an increasing number of deciduous groves host the vanguard of warbling vireo migrants moving northward from wintering areas in Mexico and northern Central America. I grew fond of vireos 50 years ago when I studied habitat use differences between warbling, Hutton's, and Cassin's vireos in a forest where all three species nested. Though the three vireos and their songs are quite distinctive, beginning birders often struggle a bit when learning to recognize them. Indeed, identifying a silent warbling vireo way up in the treetops on a gray day is a challenge! The one shown here gave me a good photo op as it foraged in large shrubby lowland willows. Note the slightly hooked tip of the stout bill—a subtle but reliable vireo characteristic.
May 4, 2024: Over the past two years, catchweed bedstraw (Galium aparine) has "exploded" in abundance along a lowland forest edge and into the forest ground cover. This clingy annual plant, also known as "cleavers," "stickywilly," "gripgrass," and "velcroweed," colonizes disturbed areas, and it grows and climbs through and over established herbaceous plants and low shrubs. Whether the species is native to North America is debatable, but it behaves like a non-native and is widely regarded as a noxious weed. I'm trying to remove as much as I can before it flowers and sets seed.
Even as I pull it out, I know some people use it to create beverages or as an herbal medicine to treat or help prevent various ailments, so in fairness I'll give it a try, at least as a drink or soothing poultice. That's it, I'll see how it works as a soothing agent after I touch some stinging nettle, which is growing close to it right here. Okay, I rub the top of my finger on a nettle stem, which produces the expected stinging sensation. Then I mash some bedstraw into a poultice and apply it to my finger for the recommended 15-20 minutes. It does seem to help but more impressively stains my finger a vivid green that doesn't rinse off. I'll think twice before using it on my face! After seeing the colorful results on my finger, I decide to skip the fresh bedstraw tea I was about to brew. P.S. Twenty-four hours later, my finger still stings a bit!
May 3, 2024: As we cruise near Port Townsend on the 56-foot Red Head (Puget Sound Express), a gray whale surfaces and blows a few times in succession, then gives us a clear look at its unique dorsal markings as it prepares for a deeper dive. My photo is clear enough to identify this whale as Cascadia Research Collective ID #356 ("Carson"), one of the so-called "Sounders," a small array of gray whales that habitually diverges into the Salish Sea to forage during the long annual spring migration from Mexico to Alaska. Periodically, "new" individuals show up in the Salish Sea to join the "regulars." Mothers with calves do not engage in this migration diversion.
#356 (gender unknown) has been seen in the Salish Sea in 16 of the past 26 years (first detected in 1999). Perhaps this whale sometimes bypasses the Strait of Juan de Fuca and continues directly onward to Alaska, though possibly #356 simply eludes detection in some years. Several other "Sounders" have been seen for more than 20 consecutive years by a coordinated network of dedicated whale watchers who photograph and document every whale encounter.
Notable behaviors during whales' residency in the Salish Sea include bottom-feeding on mud-dwelling ghost shrimp (see June 26 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). To access the shrimp, the whales move into certain intertidal areas to feed at high tide. The bottom-feeding whales create sizable pits that can be seen from shore and from the air (e.g., along Whidbey and Camano islands).
May 3, 2024: Today's field trip by the Jefferson Land Trust's Tidelands to Timberline natural history course takes us to marine waters near Port Townsend. One avian highlight—among vast numbers of rhinoceros auklets, scattered long-tailed ducks, and other marine birds—is a yellow-billed loon floating serenely over Dallas Bank in the Strait of Juan de Fuca north of Protection Island. This species nests along lakes and slow rivers in arctic tundra across northern North America and Eurasia. In the eastern Pacific Ocean, yellow-billed loons spend the winter primarily from Alaska to British Columbia, with small numbers farther south. Seeing this loon in its breeding finery in the Salish Sea as it prepares to migrate to its arctic nesting grounds is a real treat!
Loon legs are far back on the body, and they sometimes float with one foot out of the water (as seen here, but the foot may be tucked under the wing) while paddling casually with the other foot. Sometimes they extend and "waggle" a foot in the air.
Protection Island yields its usual bonanza of harbor seals (about 200 hauled out on shore). A lone northern elephant seal rests high on the beach along the same part of the shoreline where we've seen one or two elephant seals during previous visits.
May 3, 2024: Sprawled over Craven Rock, a regularly used haul-out site near Marrowstone Island, Steller's sea lions take a break from foraging in the Salish Sea, where ample populations of fishes, squids, and octopus provide attractive food resources. The Salish Sea has many haul-out sites used by Steller's sea lions, but it does not host any breeding rookeries, which are scattered along the outer coast from Alaska to California. The largest sea lions here at Craven Rock are males that are still too young and small to successfully defend territories and gain access to females in the breeding rookeries, so their focus is on food. See April 28 and June 25 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
May 2, 2024: An adult male western fence lizard spends much of this cool, sunny day basking on driftwood on a Salish Sea shore, where populations are localized in sites with lots of sun exposure. Basking, combined with use of wind-sheltered perches and sun-warmed substrates, allows these lizards to raise their body temperatures far above the air temperature. In summer, lizard body temperatures during activity routinely average in the low to mid-90s°F, even when air temperatures are only in the 70s°F. The warm body temperatures characteristic of these lizards during activity approximate the temperatures at which several of their important physiological processes reach peak performance. At coastal sites around the Salish Sea, activity occurs primarily from April to October.
I didn't see any juveniles today, but at least several adults in this population survived this past winter's unusually long period of freezing temperatues. I'll check again for juveniles when warmer days arrive.
May 2, 2024: On a Salish Sea sand dune, silky beach pea is abuzz with lots of queen bumble bees moving among the numerous blooms. The two in the upper photo seemed to ignore each other even as they visited adjacent flowers. A few unidentified bees also landed on pea flowers this sunny afternoon, but queen bumble bees were by far the most frequent visitors.
May 2, 2009: Gadwalls (male in front) feed mostly on aquatic vegetation, but in spring they sometimes graze on the tender new growth of herbaceous plants on land.
May 1, 2024: A red-breasted nuthatch assumes a classic pose on a Douglas-fir tree. Strong claws (lower photo) provide a sure grip and allow nuthatches to move easily in any direction on vertical tree trunks. The claw on the hind toe is especially large and important during downward and sideways movements. Lower photo is from a road kill (hence the damaged claw).
May 1, 2024: A queen bumble bee forages on Pacific bleeding heart, now emblazoned with flowers and becoming an important food source for bees. She moves quickly among flower clusters, approaching but passing over some but landing on and lingering a bit on others (see April 18, 2024). A pollen basket (corbicula) on each hind leg carries a load of pollen moistened with nectar, which she will bring back to her nest.
April 30, 2024: A crush of thrushes: a small opening in a lowland forest attracts a foraging American robin, several leaf-tossing varied thrushes, and a single hermit thrush (photos). The hermit thrush emerges from forest-edge undergrowth, spends a few minutes in the open, then disappears back into an adjacent thicket. I'm impressed by how small the hermit thrush is compared to the robin and varied thrush.
The thrush in today's photos is clearly a migrant on the move, since my daily observations in this forested tract have yielded no hermit thrushes since I arrived here two months ago. Soon the sweet melodies of this songbird will carry far and wide across the wild vastness of North America's subalpine and boreal forests.
At this time of year we start anticipating the arrival of Swainson's thrush, but it's still a wee bit early, and these April spot-breasted birds generally turn out to be hermit thrushes. But shortly, within a couple weeks, the distinctive "whit" and "whee" calls and grating "cherr" sounds of newly arrived Swainson's thrushes will initiate their distinctive role in defining the mid-spring acoustic character of this forest. The magnificent flutey songs of Swainson's thrush will slowly increase to a crescendo in late spring and early summer.
As much as I feel disinclined to mention European starlings twice in a single month, one can't help but remark on the loud begging trills of starling nestlings that resound from nooks and crevices in so many buildings in downstown Port Townsend.
April 29, 2024: Dry midday breezes carry tiny tufted seeds away from the catkins of female willows at the Kah Tai Lagoon. Male willows produced pollen and dropped their catkins weeks ago. Insects are important pollinators of willows, while the wind and sometimes flowing water are the primary vehicles for seed dispersal. See March 9 & 14 and May 14 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
April 29, 2024: One-flowered (naked) broomrape pokes up along the margins of the Kah Tai Prairie in Port Townsend. Shortly after germination, broomrape seedlings connect to and parasitize the roots of other herbaceous plants, especially members of the aster and saxifrage families and stonecrop (Sedum), on which they become completely dependent. Bees are thought to be the primary pollinators, but today the bees I observe ignore broomrape and instead focus on other members of the richly flowering prairie flora.
April 29, 2024: Today, along a lowland forest edge, Townsend's chipmunks catch my eye as one chases another near a bird feeder. These are the first of the year for me here at home near Port Townsend. Elsewhere on the northeastern Olympic Peninsula, Townsend's chipmunks started showing up above ground a month ago. At this site, they are generally dormant from early autumn through mid-spring, though in some years they appear briefly during warm spells in winter or early spring.
April 28, 2024: Crab spiders instinctively gravitate to good places to ambush prey, and flowers are one of their prime "hangouts" (see also April 23, 2024). Although this Pacific trillium flower in a lowland forest has released most of its pollen and produces no nectar, the showy bloom still might attract insect visitors—if we can believe the spider's evident alertness for a potential meal. Throughout most of the Pacific Northwest, Pacific trillium reaches a distinct peak in flowering in April, though in some locales in the eastern Olympics I have found flowers resembling the one in the photo in late July.
In April-May, trillium flowers sometimes host small pollen-eating beetles that appear to inadvertently transport pollen onto the flower's stigmas (pollen receptors) as they move among the flower parts.
April 28, 2024: When someone reaches into a bag and says to me, "I found this skull, I know it's not a deer,...," I'm tempted to say "raccoon" even before I see it, as it is one of the most commonly found skulls in Pacific Northwest lowlands. It's a good place to start when learning to identify skeletal remains.
We found this raccoon skull and jaw bones earlier this month on the Quimper Peninsula. Note especially the broad molars in both the upper and lower jaws (the missing rear premolars in the upper jaw are quite broad, too). Unlike members of the cat and dog families, raccoons—less dedicated to a meat-eating lifestyle—lack well developed shearing/slicing teeth (carnassials), but they do have the big fanglike canine teeth characteristic of Carnivora. Raccoons have a total of 40 teeth—more than any member of the weasel family.
April 27, 2024: Along lowland forest edges, Siberian springbeauty (aka Siberian miner's lettuce or candyflower) seems to be a focal point in the lives of tiny flies. Some of my springbeauty photos from as far back as 16 years ago on this date include the same flies (well, their descendents, of course!). It's easy to overlook them unless you're taking close-up photos (or otherwise on your hands and knees). The engrossing mini-flies appear to sip nectar but also commonly just perch in random places on the petals. If I learn something more about these little dipterans, I'll add it to this caption.
A Pacific treefrog foraged in this flower patch as I crawled around taking photos this afternoon. Maybe it nabbed a few of these flies—or are they so small that they're not worth the effort?
April 26, 2024: On a low sand dune at Fort Worden State Park, silky beach pea (aka peavine) (Lathyrus littoralis) begins to display its boldly two-toned blooms (flowering will peak in May). This attractive wildflower inhabits coastal dunes, beaches, and sand plains from Haida Gwaii (BC) to central California. However, its required open sandy habitat has declined in many areas, and silky beach pea is now a species of conservation concern. Invasive plant species, especially European beachgrass, are a major problem, as they tend to take over the habitat and render it unsuitable for the pea. Off-road vehicle use and/or trampling by people have eliminated or reduced local populations. Unnaturally large numbers of deer or other plant eaters are a stressor in some areas. Increased storm surges associated with climate change could pose a threat. At Fort Worden, volunteer efforts by native plant enthusiasts have been crucial in combating invasive beachgrass and improving conditions for silky beach pea and other native sand-loving species.
April 26, 2024: A good minus tide today draws us to a sandstome-rimmed shoreline of Indian Island along the east side of the Quimper Peninsula. Among the many low-tide highlights are close observations of orange sea cucumbers (Cucumaria miniata). Most are tucked tightly beneath rocks, singly or more often in groups. The small to large ones in the photo (adult finger for scale) show their arrangement just as we carefully lift a rock low in the intertidal zone. Under other rocks, a few cucumbers display their bushy feeding tentacles—used to gather meals of plankton and detritus—but quickly retract them if touched. This is the spawning season, so I wonder if the groups have something to do with that (males and females release eggs and sperm into the water, so close proximity presumaby would improve the chances of fertilization). By the way, what do you call a group of sea cucumbers? I propose that we might employ the collective noun "pickle." Yes, that's it, a pickle of sea cucumbers!
April 26, 2024: At the same site, we marvel at the impressive numbers of aggregating anemones bunched together across wide swaths of the rocky intertidal zone. Exposed by the low tide, all are contracted, forming small green rings sprinkled with bits of shell. In some places, we see distinct gaps between aggregations that differ in color (pale green versus darker green)—likely these are different clones formed through asexual reproduction. Different clones use special "combat" tentacles to "battle" each other for space, and gaps form along clone borders. Perhaps the different clone colors reflect genetic variations that result in unequal concentrations of photosynthetic microalgae in the anemones' tissues (just a guess).
The photo: As the water rises, the anemones become submerged, expand, unfurl their feeding tentacles (armed with harpoonlike stinging cells), and feast on the planktonic bounty delivered by the fulsome tidewaters.
April 25, 2024: A new generation of banana slugs is on the move. This little one at top—likely hatched in late winter—was grazing on biofilm on an old wet tarp along a lowland forest edge. A bigger one, with its sensory systems fully extended, cruised across a forest path. These native mollusks can live multiple years and sometimes approach the length of ... a small banana! See August 29 and September 17 in A Naturalist's Year... for a look at banana slug sex and eggs.
April 24, 2024: In an old forest of Douglas-fir, western redcedar, and western hemlock, an adult ensatina shelters on the ground under a thick slab of Douglas-fir bark, only to be exposed by a curious naturalist hoping to find this secretive gem. I was first introduced to this fascinating amphibian more than 50 years ago by the renowned herpetologist Robert C. Stebbins, who conducted the first detailed study of its natural history.
The salamander remains motionless for several minutes as I take close-up photographs. After a couple nudges with my finger it begins to walk. See A Naturalist's Year... for further information on ensatina biology.
Other pieces of wood on the ground in this forest provide cover for big blue-black beetles, orange-red centipedes, and yellow-spotted millipedes. Faded purple calypso orchids and white trilliums bloom nearby, and a serenade of Pacific wrens, Townsend's warblers, and other songbirds—counterpoint to the overall hush of the old forest—completes the richly delightful scene.
April 23, 2024: In a lowland forest, a vine maple with well-grown leaves has bountiful blooms that offer nectar and pollen to bees, beetles, and other insects. But caution is critical—a crab spider on this flower cluster is ready to ambush heedless sweet seekers and preoccupied pollen picnickers.
April 23, 2024: On a cool, sunny day near Port Townsend, a ragged California tortoiseshell shows off its cryptically colored underwings as it engages in some solar heating via "lateral basking." Just a moment ago, settled atop new sword fern fronds in a patch of sunlight on the forest floor, it basked with spread wings, exposing the faded orange, black, yellowish, and whitish tones of its upper surface. Although this butterfly probably overwintered locally (as an adult), none of its usual caterpillar food plants (Ceanothus) grow here, so its origin must have been elsewhere (perhaps in the Cascades, where its larval hosts abound). What will it do now? Is this a dead end? Will it find its way back to the mountains? In some years, countless numbers of migrating tortoiseshells amaze summer hikers in the mountains of the Cascades-Sierra Nevada axis. In early fall, they may stream southward along the coast. Regardless of the season, it's always a treat to see these butterflies and contemplate their origins and destinations.
Townsend's warbler 240423_002.MP3April 23, 2024: One of the joys of late April is the arrival of countless migratory songbirds. An amazing diversity of species fill the riparian and upland landscape with trills, whistles, wheezy drawls, rollicking chants, and a panoply of other sounds not heard for many months. One group—the warblers—is even named for their vocal sounds (though not all of them actually warble). In lowlands around the Salish Sea, the most-often-heard warblers include orange-crowned, yellow-rumped, Wilson's, yellow, Townsend's, and black-throated gray, plus common yellowthroat. The audio clip included here is one of a few different Townsend's warbler songs I recorded this morning as I watched the birds forage in tall Douglas-firs and red alders. [It can take a bit of patience and determination to see the birds clearly when they move around the treetops against a bright sky!] These handsome warblers and their songs have increased a lot over the past few days as migrants move northward. Most Townsend's warbler songs today sound like the one in the audio clip, but occasionally they are perplexingly similar to certain songs of black-throated gray warbler. Indeed, the varied songs of these two warblers (and hermit warbler, which hybridizes with Townsend's) can be challenging to distinguish. Even the Merlin bird sound ID app sometimes gets confused. Its best to use binoculars and experience the delight of finding out for yourself who's singing!
April 22, 2024: New cones proliferate on hilltop Douglas-fir trees near Port Townsend. In the coming months, the huge crop of new cones will provide a tremendous food resource for seed-eating, mammals, birds, and insects.
At Fort Worden State Park, small flocks of band-tailed pigeons fly around tall Douglas-fir trees and spend considerable time perched in the partially dead tops of tall conifers. The pigeons are quiet this afternoon...no hooting.
April 21, 2024: In a lowland forest near the Quimper Wildlife Corridor, the season's first wild Pacific rhododendron flowers have opened for business (though most flower buds are still closed). As salmonberry and red flowering currant end their flowering seasons, bumble bees and hummingbirds will soon shift much of their foraging to the increasing supply of "rhody" blooms. At this site, a flourishing of Pacific bleeding heart (Dicentra formosa) flowers is beginning to attract bumble bees that have subsisted on salmonberry and currant for the past several weeks. On the right side of the photo are several open seed capsules from last year.
April 21, 2024: I'm watching a male and female Douglas squirrel at the edge of a Douglas-fir forest near Port Townsend. This is the male, easily recognizable by his large scrotal testes (causing the bulge between his hind legs). The two vociferous squirrels appear to be somewhat agitated when they are near each other, but this is the mating season, and they seem to be toning down their usually strong territorial behavior right now.
April 21, 2024: This is the female, with engorged blood-sucking ticks behind her eye. Douglas squirrels often have ticks attached to their head, ears, or neck, and they are afflicted with fleas as well (evident in their frequent scratching behavior). See also August 21 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest.
Evidently, this female has never had babies, as she lacks the pigmented mammae characteristic of mothers that have nursed a litter of neonates. Probably she was born last year and did not breed. With this male living so closeby, she may produce a litter sometime in June. But Douglas-fir produced few if any cones here last year, and poor cone crops can result in drastic reproductive declines in local squirrel populations—the female may not be sufficiently nourished to complete pregnancy and raise offspring. She and I live in the same forest, so I may be able to keep track of her and see what happens!
April 21, 2024: Additional views of a male Douglas squirrel with large, scrotal testes. The pale penis sheath protrudes beside the bulging scrotum. [Yes, biologists do focus a lot on sexual and reproductive nuances!]
April 20, 2024: An explosion of brilliant white flowers of Saskatoon serviceberry catches my eye on a bluff overlooking the Salish Sea. In some warmer sites, the season's first serviceberry blooms appeared a few weeks ago. Patient observers may see bees, beetles, butterflies, hover flies, and even stink bugs visiting these sweetly fragrant flowers, but insects are scarce today. Nonetheless, I appreciate their "under the radar" pollination efforts that will yield tasty little fruits by early summer.
April 20, 2024: A sunny early afternoon with steady winds out of the southeast brings a moderate movement of raptors and turkey vultures at the northeastern tip of the Olympic Peninsula. My 45-minute count includes 13 turkey vultures, 8 bald eagles, 9 red-tailed hawks, 18 sharp-shinned hawks, 3 Cooper's hawks (photo of juvenile), and a few far-away accipiters of uncertain identity. The soaring eagles and red-tailed hawks sometimes float almost motionless—like a kite on a string—as they face into the stiff wind. Sharp-shinned hawks briefly slow down as they turn into the wind, then zip by so fast that I struggle to follow them through my camera viewfinder. Probably most of these birds are migrants passing through on their northward migration. Turkey vultures and Cooper's hawks generally migrate only as far north as southern British Columbia. The others on today's list nest northward to Alaska. See April 13, 2024.
Recent winds have broken off the ends of many Douglas-fir branches that hold numerous spent pollen cones. This fits with the obvious decline in "pollen rain" over the past few days. Yet today's winds brought a pronounced uptick in pollen deposition on everything beneath the trees. Tonight, I shine a light beam upward toward the Douglas-fir canopy and see lots of pollen grains drifting in the air. See April 15, 2024.
April 19, 2024: A female hairy woodpecker pauses momentarily while excavating a cavity in a Pacific madrone snag along a forest edge in Fort Townsend Historical State Park. We can hear her pecking on what sounds like hard wood as she reaches far inside the cavity with just her wing tips and tail visible. When she reemerges (as seen here), she sometimes tosses aside a small billful of excavated wood particles. Feathers on her back become disheveled when they contact the top of the opening as she backs out of the cavity.
Hairy woodpeckers in this region commonly nest in conifer snags or large stubs or in aspens with fungal decay. Cavity excavation in the hard wood of madrone seems to be quite unusual.
April 19, 2024: Near the woodpecker's project, American robins are much farther along in their breeding cycle. One pair is already busy bringing food to their nestlings in a large Douglas-fir tree. Early nests such as this—constructed before deciduous trees leaf out—tend to be secluded in evergreen foliage.
April 19, 2024: In a lowland forest-edge thicket, a male spring azure (butterfly) closely approaches a perched female. Her raised abdomen may indicate that she has already mated and is not receptive to his advances. As he contacts her, she takes off and a burst of fast erratic flying and chasing ensues. The female quickly vacates the area, while the male remains to soak up some sun.
April 19, 2024: The air is chilly today, and the azures periodically land on rose foliage to bask.
Spring azure larvae eat the floral and fruity parts of a wide range of deciduous shrubs and trees. Ants consume the caterpillars' sugary excretions and in turn provide protection against predaceous insects that might threaten their source of sweets.
Spring azures overwinter as pupae—in contrast to some other early spring butterflies, such as satyr commas and mourning cloaks, that pass the cold season as winged adults. This year, in Quimper Peninsula lowlands, I saw the earliest spring azures on the wing on sunny days back in March.
April 18, 2024: A bitter cherry tree—the only woody plant with flowers at the edge of this open field—presents its numerous aromatic blooms to potential pollinators. Visitors this afternoon include bumble bee queens, smaller unidentified bees, tiny hover flies, and bristly tachinid flies that have a white patch near the rear end. All of them are too fast or distant for a decent photograph, but even my fuzzy photos show that the tachinid flies carry an ample sprinkling of pollen grains. The bumble bees often closely approach flower clusters without landing, then quickly move on to other flowers—as if they could tell that certain flowers would not be worth further investigation. Spiders are not evident in passed-over flowers, so predator evasion seems not to be the explanation. Instead, bees—which have a keen sense of smell—may use bee scent as an aid in identifying flowers that were recently visited by a bee and thus likely lack nectar. Or might they use the strength of nectar odor to discover the most productive flowers? An odor-based decision-making process may explain similar behavior of bees foraging on salmonberry, currant, rhododendron, and many other flowers.
Song sparrow 240418_004.mp3Song sparrow 240418_005.mp3Song sparrow 240418_006.mp3April 18, 2024: A male song sparrow sings on his forest-edge territory next to the little cabin I use as my office. Here are three of his songs from this morning. Typically he repeats one song many times before switching to another of the several songs in his repertoire.
April 17, 2024: A large bird glides across a lowland forest opening and lands in a red alder tree. This shadowy, silent arrival does not escape the attention of resident songbirds, including chestnut-backed chickaee (above), black-capped chickadee (photo, with bill open), red-breasted nuthatch, and American robin, all of which converge and call loudly as they move around the bigger bird. When I slowly approach to investigate, what turns out to be a barred owl takes off from the alder and disappears into the forest. The songbirds soon disperse and resume foraging. The owl may be the male of the pair now nesting in an old western hemlock snag 1/3 mile from here. The snag cavity may contain small nestlings at this point—I hope to verify that soon!
The two chickadee species live side-by-side along the edges and openings of this mature forest dominated by Douglas-fir, western redcedar, and red alder. For the most part, they seem to ignore each other but likely engage in subtle interactions that escape my notice. Their habitats overlap to some degree, but black-capped chickadees predominate in patchy young forest, deciduous corridors, and wooded suburban tracts. Their vocalizations are quite different, so it's easy to tell which species is around even when the birds are out of view.
April 16, 2024: Loose flocks of hungry dunlins speed-feed as they scuttle across a sandy-silty flat now being exposed by a falling tide. For the past week, northward-migrating dunlins have visited this Port Townsend Bay shore in steadily increasing numbers, along with sanderlings and black-bellied plovers. Nearby, barnacle-encrusted rocks pulse with flocks of chittering black turnstones. But the great spring migration spectable will occur during coming weeks (late April to mid-May) along the outer coast and at the Fraser River estuary, where hundreds of thousands of shorebirds pass through each year en route to their far northern nesting grounds.
April 16, 2024: A close look at a black oystercatcher's eye reveals what seems to be an oblong or egg-shaped pupil. Actually the pupil is nearly circular but the adjacent iris has a contiguous black mark. In this case, the mark is solid black, so—according to a detailed studiy done during the breeding season in Alaska—this individual is an adult female. Adult males show a rounded black pupil, with or without adjacent small black flecks or smudges (but no solid black areas outside the round pupil; see other photo). The cause and significance of the black marks/flecks, and how this feature varies among seasons and geographic locations, need further study.
April 16, 2024: Upper: Here's a quick field sketch I did of the head of another oystercatcher—clearly another female. Lower: This one has only a tiny black fleck on the iris and so is presumably a male. Note also the relatively short bill, also indicative of a male. Both photos and the sketch are from Port Townsend.
April 15, 2024: Two days ago, I put my jacket outside in a small forest opening and left it there during fine, breezy weather. This morning it shows a clear record of ongoing pollen release from nearby Douglas-fir trees. The dusty pollen looks and feels like fine corn flour. Substantial pollen "rain" has fallen from these trees for more than a week now.
This morning, in the same forest (where Douglas-firs mix with red alders), I hear the season's first songs of black-throated gray warbler—likely newly arrived after a migratory flight last night. Some members of this species settle and nest here on the Olympic Peninsula, while others continue northward, but only as far as southwestern British Columbia—the northern extent of the nesting range. Nearly all winter in Mexico.
April 14, 2024: Sword ferns continue to elevate and unfurl their new, "elephant trunk" fronds above a lowland forest floor. Scroll down to see March 31, 2024.
April 14, 2024: Flower buds are beginning to emerge at the bases of the leaf stalks of stinging nettles, some of which are now more than three feet tall. Nettle flowers lack petals and nectar, which in many plants serve to attract insect pollinators. Although insects may collect or consume nettle pollen, the plants rely on the wind to move the pollen from flower to flower.
April 13, 2024: A sunny afternoon with northwest winds yields a modest migration of turkey vultures above a hill at the extreme northeastern tip of the Olympic Peninsula. In 45 minutes, my count totals only 10 vultures. plus 2 red-tailed hawks. Many of the soaring birds circle and gain altitude on rising air masses. At least some then appear to depart to cross at least 4 1/2 miles of open water to Whidbey Island.
Compare this to my 45-minute count at the same location under similar weather conditions on the afternoon of April 20, 2021: red-tailed hawk (36), turkey vulture (25), Cooper's hawk (15), sharp-shinned hawk (3), bald eagle (3).
I'll try again in a week to see if I can top the 2021 count results!
April 13, 2024: A male orange-crowned warbler alternately forages and sings along a shrubby lowland forest edge. The number of singing males has increased dramatically over the past several days. Indeed, along forest edges that border my bicycling routes on the Quimper Peninsula, I anticipate hearing the frequent songs of this migratory species by mid-April.
Some orange-crowned warblers winter southward to southern Mexico and Guatemala. Breeding extends as far north as Alaska. Atypical of the warbler group, male orange-crowned warblers lack a strong color pattern; sometimes they are mistaken for females—until they sing, which females do not.
Today, band-tailed pigeons began hooting near our home adjacent to the western edge of the Quimper Wildlife Corridor—the first I've heard here so far this year. Two took off from a tree perch with loud clapping sounds made by the wings.
April 12, 2024: In lowland lawns, many common dandelions (Taraxacum officinale) have fresh yellow flowers, but those that flowered early this year have already begun to disperse their seeds on fluffy tufts that catch the wind for a short hop or lengthy aerial voyage.
Common dandelions—native to Europe but widely introduced elsewhere—are regarded as the world's most widespread plant. Although the flowers produce nectar and pollen—and bees make use of these food resources—viable seeds develop without any sort of pollination. However, according one source, "insect visitors may be needed to trigger seed set." On average, each composite flower head yields about 150-200 seeds. After germination, the plants develop a long taproot and have a perennial life style.
A few native dandelion species occur in alpine regions of the Pacific Northwest.
April 12, 2024: A pileated woodpecker attacked a carpenter ant colony in this western redcedar tree many years ago.
April 12, 2011: Here's the same tree exactly 13 years ago. A detailed comparison of the two photos indicates that bark has grown over some of the holes while others remain essentially unchanged. Only one noticeably new hole was made over the 13-year interval.
April 11, 2024: The sandy, broom-infested field I visited yesterday hosts a pair of adult white-crowned sparrows, one of which is shown here in its handsome, everyday unisex plumage. The male sings a song that sounds just like that sung over the past few weeks by all the males for miles around (so very different from the diverse array of song sparrow songs). Today I can't determine where this white-crowned sparrow and its mate are in their nesting cycle. Egg laying in the local area generally peaks in late April and early May.
A few miles away, several male Savannah sparrows are now singing frequently in large grassy fields where I did not hear them last week.
Back at home, Douglas-fir pollen has been falling for the past several days and continues to cover everything in the understory with a fine grainy coating. See April 19 in A Nauralist's Year in the Pacific Northwest to see what this can look like when pollen release reaches its peak.
Whoa! There's so much happening and changing at this time of year that it's hard to keep track of even the most remarkable natural events. This photo-journal will necessarily have to be highly selective during the coming weeks!
April 10, 2024: Along a disturbed lowland roadway, a cabbage white lands on field mustard flowers for a sip of nectar. This often-seen butterfly—native to Eurasia and northern Africa—is widespread and abundant in the Pacific Northwest and throughout much of the world. Its caterpillars often feed on crop plants of the Brassicaceae family (e.g., cabbage, kale, broccoli, etc.). Cabbage whites overwinter as pupae and some take flight as early as March. I've seen just a few flying so far this year, but soon they will be "everywhere." Near the cabbage white, a native bumble bee also visited field mustard flowers this afternoon.
Like the cabbage white, field mustard is a non-native presence in the region, with a native range in Eurasia. Right now, the showy yellow floral displays of field mustard join the bright golden blooms of native Oregon-grape and invasive common broom.
April 10, 2024: As I try to photograph some of the many oblique-lined tiger beetles active in a sandy field this afternoon (see March 11 & 28 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest), I notice a grovesnail (aka brown-lipped snail) (Cepaea nemoralis) clinging to one of the multitude of invasive common broom shrubs that have taken over this lowland clearing. Grovesnails are native to Europe but widely established in gardens and vacant lots in the Pacific Northwest.
Now that I have a good search image, I quickly discover 10 more grovesnails clinging to scattered broom plants, 1-5 feet above the ground. Some are plain colored and look bleached out, while others have rich earth tones and attractive bold bands. All are affixed to the plants by dry mucus, which also seals the shell opening, but they readily detach from the plants with just a slight tug.
The snails are immobile but quite alive. In hand, the head and body soon emerge from the shell, and the tentacles pop out to gather information about this rude disturbance. Presumably the snails' arboreal resting perches give them some protection against shrews, gartersnakes, and other ground predators.
April 10, 2024: A European starling forages on tide-exposed rocks along Port Townsend Bay. The vivid yellow of the starling's bill depends on dietary carotenes. Pale tips on the body and head feathers (acquired with last year's molt) gradually wear away, eventually yielding glossy black breeding plumage with minimal pale spotting.
Earlier today (6:45 am, air temperature 40°F): In full shade, two bumble bee queens fly loudly around salmonberry bushes as I zip up my down jacket and snug down my woolen toque! Based on detailed studies of bumble bee thermoregulation, the thoracic temperatures of these flying bees likely are near or even above 100°F! Bumble bees efficiently generate and retain their own body heat, and they also warm themselves by basking (see April 7, 2024).
April 9, 2024: Two hours after low tide, an adult glaucous-winged gull floats along the rip-rapped edge of Port Townsend Bay. Soon it plunges its head underwater and nabs a live northern kelp crab from the shallow water. The gull takes off with the crab in its bill and drops it onto nearby pavement. The gull lands, quickly breaks off several crab legs (upper photo), then opens the crab's underside with strong pecks. After feeding briefly, the gull abandons the crab and walks 20 feet to where another adult (but slightly smaller) gull is quietly standing. It lowers and tilts its head downward toward the smaller gull (evidently its female mate) and utters loud, low-pitched calls. As the crab-catcher walks past the smaller gull, the latter strolls over to the crab carcass and begins to eat. This is just one of the many times I've seen a large adult glaucous-winged gull (evidently male) share its catch with a smaller adult (presumably its mate) outside the nesting period.
Thirty minutes later, another adult glaucous-winged gull pecks near the holdfast of a sea cabbage (a type of kelp) on a cobbly shore. The holdfast turns out to be attached firmly not to a rock (the usual anchor) but rather to the top of a chiton, the underside of which the gull is pecking and eating. Chitons attach firmly to rocks and so might sometimes serve as a secure substrate for the kelp. Perhaps the chiton was yanked from its rock as the kelp was battered by strong waves during a storm. Lower photo shows the kelp attached to the much smaller chiton (at right, after being eaten and hollowed out by the gull.
April 9, 2024: Perhaps it's not surprising that drivers get a bit confused when approaching the new traffic circle in Port Townsend.
April 9, 2024: Over the past few days, ruby-crowned kinglets have become more conspicuous, with increased singing as they forage in lowland forest undergrowth of the northeastern Olympic Peninsula. Songs vary from short fragments to longer (but still incomplete) versions of the amazingly elaborate full songs that can last several seconds. Many of the ruby-crowns here will migrate northward to nesting areas in Canada or perhaps Alaska; some may end up in forested breeding areas in the Cascades or—in small numbers—the Olympic Mountains.
April 8, 2024: An almost one-year-old black-tailed deer pauses to groom itself while feeding on elderberry, salmonberry, and herbaceous foliage. The scruffy deer shows signs of "hair loss syndrome," a skin affliction caused by non-native lice (see February 16 in A Naturalist's Year in the Pacific Northwest). Twenty feet away, an adult female (presumably the youngster's mother) does not appear to be affected by the parasite.
April 7, 2024: Several Enchoria lacteata moths sip nectar from hairy bittercress (Cardamine hirsuta) flowers in a disturbed forest opening. The moths' luminous hind wings flash brightly in flight (compare April 5). The weedy bittercress plant is native to Eurasia but seems quite attractive to this native Pacific Northwest moth. Hairy bittercress seeds are sticky when wet and readily spread on shoes or animal feet. The seeds may remain viable in the soil for years before germinating.
A spring azure (butterfly) flies close to the ground near the moths but does not join them on the bittercress flowers.
April 7, 2024: Lots of song sparrow social interactions today arounnd the openings and edges of a lowland forest. After a fast chase involving four song sparrows, two of them come back to where the chase began. This one starts uttering short, two-note phrases as he slightly raises and lowers his crown feathers. It sounds like just the beginning of a full song, but softer than usual. Is this somehow a result of the chase? To the south , another male (probably one that was involved in the chase) lets loose with a full song, as does a distant male in the opposite direction. April 8, 2024: At dawn, three male song sparrows are all singing: one is where yesterday's chase began, and the others are to the north and south—in more or less the same locations as yesterday. No soft, incomplete songs today! It looks like we have three closely adjacent song sparrow territories here.
April 7, 2024: In early afternoon, a bumble bee queen buzzes by me, lands, and basks on sun-warmed ground (air temperature 50°F). Others do the same thing, sometimes crawling around a bit before settling. Bumble bees visited salmonberry and red flowering currant flowers under cloudy skies this morning when the air temperature was 42°F.
April 6, 2024: New growth of a young red elderberry plant flourishes above the underground parts, including a thick taproot and a network of finer roots (many of which broke off when I excavated the plant). This elderberry grew a thick taproot and vertical stems last year, but it shows evidence of having been browsed by deer (frequent elderberry consumers at this site). Here, new shoots (and a thinner root and rootlets) emanate from last year's growth. Sheet of paper in background is 8.5 x 11 inches.
April 5, 2024: Small moths (Enchoria lacteata, wingspan about 0.7-0.9 inches) fly slowly in daylight in lowland forest edges and openings. They have been in flight most days over the past few weeks. Periodically they alight on plants, including tree trunks, sword fern (as shown here), and Claytonia siberica (known as candyflower, Siberian springbeauty, or Siberian miner's lettuce; one of the caterpillar food plants).
April 4, 2024: A large, decaying, moss-draped stump has shrubby plants growing on it—salmonberry and red elderberry. A good guess is that the plants arrived as seeds voided from the digestive tracts of songbirds (perhaps American robin or Swainson's thrush) that landed on the stump some years ago. The succulent fruits of salmonberry and elderberry figure prominently in the early summer diets of these and other frugivorous birds.
April 4, 2024: Near the shrub-covered stump, another stump of similar size hosts two live western hemlock trees, 20-30 feet tall. Western hemlock seeds have a prominent wing that allows them to disperse long distances in the wind (the probable mechanism by which the two hemlocks arrived on the stump).
April 3, 2024: Trunk of bitter cherry.
April 3, 2024: Trunk of red alder.
Each trunk is several inches in diameter.
The horizontal linear features (large and fewer in bitter cherry, much smaller and more numerous [and often merely a round bump] in red alder) are lenticels, porous areas that enable gas exchange between the atmosphere and internal tissues of the plant. The irregular vertical dark streaks on the red alder are wet from rain water that flowed down the trunk earlier today. The white patches are lichens.
April 3, 2024: In a soggy lowland, the showy flowering stalks of palmate coltsfoot (aka western sweet coltsfoot) are nearly three feet tall, extending well above the immense but still growing leaves. Although bumble bees frequently visit salmonberry flowers on this cool (45°F), cloudy afternoon, the flower arrays of several coltsfoot plants do not attract any insects during my brief visit.
April 2, 2024: A bumble bee queen probes deeply into a drooping salmonberry flower. When I examine this flower a few hours later, it sheds pollen onto a black swab, and I taste a bit of sweetness (nectar) when I nibble the base of the flower.
April 2, 2024: Bumble bees frequently alternate between salmonberry and red flowering currant. Typically, a queen visits several flowers on one plant before moving to another plant (a closely adjacent one, or sometimes far away). It's very difficult to track the queens when they make a rapid departure from isolated plants.
April 1, 2024: A quick peek at a wetland atop Chimacum Ridge (Quimper Peninsula) yields two Pacific treefrogs active on the ground at the edge of a tiny pool. The treefrog shown in the upper photo leaped into the pool, dove to the leafy bottom, then immediately surfaced. It floated quietly for a few minutes as we moved closer and took photographs. In another ridgetop wetland, a few treefrogs called now and then during today's mild, sunny weather.
On the east slope of the ridge, I gently grasp a juvenile northern red-legged frog (young of last year, lower photo) as it hops beside a sun-exposed pool along a perennial rivulet. No suitable breeding sites are evident here; the little frog's natal pond may be on the nearby valley floor or perhaps on the ridegetop. Someday I hope to discover where the local red-legged frogs are laying their eggs!
March 31, 2024: We search for western fence lizards among driftwood high on a Salish Sea shore but instead discover an adult terrestrial gartersnake (Thamnophis elegans) basking in a nook protected from a cool wind (low 50s°F). As we approach closely, the exquisitely patterned serpent slithers under a log. When we carefully lift the log, the fully exposed snake remains motionless, as if relying on its cryptic coloration to avoid detection.
March 31, 2024: New sword fern fronds emerge under red alder and Douglas-fir at the edge of of lowland forest. Nearby, most sword ferns still have their new growth hidden beneath the leaf litter that has accumulated at the base of last year' fronds, which will remain green until well after the new fronds are fully grown. Sword fern "thickets" serve as habitat for Pacific treefrogs, Pacific wrens, nesting songbirds (e.g., juncos and Swainson's thrushes), and a diverse array of other small wildlife.
March 30, 2024: On the northern Quimper Peninsula, bigleaf maples hold showy clusters of pollen flowers, as well as growing leaves. Maples grow sparsely in this region, so the floweirng trees really stand out against adjacent Douglas-fir, red alder, and madrone.
March 29, 2024: A black-bellied plover extracts and eats a succulent polychaete worm along the tide-exposed shore of Port Townsend Bay. Polychaetes appear to be the plovers' primary food here today. Slow-motion video.
March 29, 2024: This morning we find two small Pacific treefrogs beneath tree branches that we cut and piled on the ground last autumn. The frog shown here probably hatched in 2022. The other—plain bright green except for the dark eye stripe—was half as big and likely hatched last year. The site is in a forest clearing about 0.3 miles from the nearest treefrog breeding pond, so the little frogs have roamed far from their natal habitat. Both hopped to the shelter of a nearby salal thicket after being exposed.
March 28, 2024: Tightly closed pollen cones crowd a branch that detached from high in a Douglas-fir tree in today's wind storm. In this lowland forest, Douglas-fir has yet to release its pollen to the wind, whereas another wind-pollinated tree—red alder—has nearly completed pollen dispersal, evidenced by the innumerable spent catkins now covering the ground.
March 27, 2024: On a partly sunny, cool afternoon (48°F) along a lowland forest edge, three queen bumble bees busily move among clusters of red flowering currant flowers on a lone plant. They sip nectar but seem not to collect pollen. Fifty feet away, bumble bees (probably including some of those seen on currant) visit several salmonberry flowers in succession (see April 2). On March 28, a bumble bee flew among currant flowers under cloudy skies at a chilly air temperature of 43°F.
March 26, 2024: About two years ago, strong winds partially uprooted a large willow tree. Someone cut off the branchy/leafy upper part of the leaning tree (it was blocking a hiking trail). Loss of the down-the-trunk flow of certain hormones from the actively growing tree branches (now removed) activated dormant buds in the remaining tree trunk shown here, from which then sprang dozens of fast-growing shoots.
March 26, 2015: Near Marmot Pass in the eastern Olympic Mountains, yellow-cedar pollen cones are almost ready to release their pollen to the wind. See also November 24, 2015, above.
March 25, 2024: A few dozen Pacific treefrog embryos develop along the sun-exposed edge of a shallow lowland pool, Some of the jelly that enveloped the eggs when they were laid (perhaps a week ago) has softened and dissolved. Several more weeks will pass before the treefrog tadpoles metamorphose into little froglets. At this site—a relatively cool environment near the Strait of Juan de Fuca—recently metamorphosed frogs feed and grow for probably two years before they mature and begin to breed. In warmer habitats, breeding treefrog populations may include some one-year-olds.
March 24, 2024: This flat-bodied larva of a fire-colored beetle (Pyrochroidae: Dendroides ephemeroides?) was tightly ensconsed between two pieces of wet, rotting wood. The larval diet is believed to include mainly fungi and perhaps associated decaying wood. The slender reddish-orange adults appear in late spring or early summer (most often seen in June).
March 21, 2024: Brant are conspicuously absent today when I arrive at Point Hudson—a regularly used feeding area for hundreds of these migratory geese at this time of year. I soon understand the lack of brant: a bald eagle is perched on shoreline driftwood. When resting ashore or feeding in shallow water, brant typically flush and flee en masse when an eagle (or sometimes another raptor) approaches. Here at Point Hudson, the brant almost always detect an approaching eagle before I do. When the brant suddenly take flight all at once, I start looking for an eagle!
March 20, 2024: Red alder pollen catkins (three at left) let loose a puff of pollen when I flick them with my finger. At this time of year, my itchy eyes tell me when the air is filled with red alder pollen. The structures at the upper right are seed catkins, each of which will develop into a small "cone" containing many seeds. A leafy shoot will soon emerge from the bud at right center.
March 19, 2024: A glaucous-winged gull has its afternoon snack—a cockle (clam) obtained at low tide in Port Townsend Bay. A minute earlier, while floating in shallow, near-shore water, the gull hopped up and dove head-first into the water several times, finally coming up with the cockle. It flew along the shore, rose up to a stall, and twice dropped the cockle onto tide-exposed rocks. This cracked open the shell, and the gull had a succulent feast, which it shared with another adult gull that soon arrived (presumably its mate). Cockles have very short siphons and bury themselves only shallowly, so they commonly fall prey to hungry gulls (and crows) when the tide falls.
March 18, 2024: A male brant, color-banded in the Yukon Delta region of Alaska in 2011, appears for at least the third consecutive year at Point Hudson (fellow brant watcher Hillary Smith saw him here in 2022 and 2023). Banding data indicate that he hatched in 2010 or earlier. Today he nibbled sea lettuce among intertidal cobbles with several dozen brant flockmates.
March 18, 2024: On a sunny, cool (low 50s°F) day, an adult female northwestern gartersnake moves slowly into a patch of sunshine on a trail near the Kah Tai Lagoon. Sadly, many gartersnakes lose their lives at this time of year as they seek warmth on sun-exposed roadways.
March 17, 2024: Mild weather and sunshine near Port Townsend bring out a satyr comma (anglewing), seen here basking on a warm road surface. This one, which emerged as an adult last year, survived a winter marked by unusually cold temperatures.
March 14, 2024: In tidelands and shallow waters throughout the Salish Sea, eelgrass provides shelter and attachment sites for a diverse array of other organisms. Here several egg masses of a Lacuna snail adorn the tip of an eelgrass blade adjacent to Indian Island. Each of the four masses includes a multitude of tiny eggs
March 14, 2024: On southern Indian Island, a Douglas squirrel climbs into a thorny thicket and eats seeds from a Nootka rose "hip." It similarly processes a few more rose hips as I watch. Rose hips contain several fruits, each with a single seed. Technically, the fleshy red covering of the hip is not part of the botanical fruit. In this location, Doulgas-fir trees produced few cones/seeds last year, so the squirrels depend on alternate food resources. See also January 25.
March 10, 2024: In a lowland forest, salal leaves from last year show evidence of feeding (leaf mining) by larvae of a small gracillariid moth (Cameraria gaultheriella). The adult moths—seen in spring or summer—have rusty brown forewings (3-6 mm long) with bold white markings.
March 8, 2024: Attractive "fruitbodies" of turkey tail fungi (Trametes versicolor) fan out on the mossy top of a red alder stump (about 8 inches in diameter at the cut). The spore-producing fruitbodies appear as the fungus decomposes the dead wood.
May 2021: This is the same red alder stump shortly after it was cut in 2021. Initially, all the wood was pale (as in the top and upper right portions seen here). With exposure to atmospheric oxygen, compounds in the wood quickly turned it red or orange—a typical color change in red alder.
February 14, 2024: A red squirrel in the Methow Valley nibbles a morning snack while perched on a ponderosa pine branch covered with wolf lichens (Letharia vilpina). The lichen's bright color is due in part to the presence of vulpinic acid, a toxic compound that protects the lichen from certain herbivorous animals and from potentially damaging ultraviolet light. In the lower photo, vulpinic acid leached out when I soaked the lichen in water for a few hours. Sometimes the color appears on the snow surface when rainfall leaches the compound from dripping, wolf-lichen-covered trees.
Note the position of the squirrel's fluffy tail—some added back-side insulation on this chilly morning.
February 8, 2024: The unusually robust appearance of this cougar track (uppermost photo) results from the superimposition of the hind track upon the front as the cat employed a casual "direct register" walk along a snow-covered dirt road in the Methow Valley. When the front and hind tracks are slightly farther askew (offset laterally), the direct register result may show more than four toe prints, as in other photos taken along the same cougar trail.
January 25, 2024: Here we have the remains of a rose hip that was fed on by a red squirrel near Sun Mountain (Methow Valley), The squirrel plucked low-growing hips simply by reaching up from the snow-covered ground, Similar piles of rose hip remains adorned the snow surface in several places nearby—evidence of earlier feeding activity. See March 14.
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