It’s that time of the year again, when the bugs and the deer discover all the tasty plants in my garden. While the Japanese beetles ravage the leaves of the apple trees and raspberries, the deer fawns chow down on the wildflowers. I don’t mind them, though, they are pretty cute, and very shy.
Breakfast at the wildflower garden buffet
The twin is completely hidden underneath the giant cup plants.
Hyssop must not taste good to deer; they left it for the bumblebees.
It’s nice to see familiar wildlife in the backyard. These were my first (vertebrate) visitors since returning from May travels.
A singleton fawn (no twin around?)
No mom around either…maybe it’s just exploring on its own.
Tom Turkey came to visit because I finally filled the bird feeders again.
His display was half-hearted (no tail fan), but his gobble was pretty loud.
A beautiful bird, with a homely face.
now if only the fox family would come to visit…
My neighbor called to tell me there was a big snapping turtle on his patio, so I went over to make friends. It was indeed a big one, maybe a female looking for a soft garden spot to lay some eggs. I decided to get down on turtle level to take some photos.
Snapping turtles often come up into our yards from the lake across the street. Sometimes they bring a collection of algae on their shells, but this turtle is remarkably clean.
They are called snapping turtles for a good reason. Those toothless jaws can produce a powerful pinch, strong enough to tear flesh. And if they can’t nail you with a vicious bite, snappers will put a nasty gouge in your skin with those long, sharp toenails. Beware of picking one of these up!
That’s eye level, for sure. Look at all that loose skin under the head, which allows them to stretch their head far out of the shell and take a good bite of something. They can extend their neck and flex it perpendicular to their body, latching their jaws onto whatever is nearby. I was a little surprised not to see leeches or some other ectoparasites clinging to the turtle’s skin.
Once the turtle got tired of watching me, it moved off the patio toward the garden, raising itself up on its toes to step over a hose. How does a beast whose eyes are at the top of its head know where it’s feet are in relation to an obstacle on the ground? Obviously, snapping turtles have a wider visual field than you might think.
Snapping turtle walks over kinked hose by rising up on its toes!
The devastation caused by two back-to-back hurricanes in the Caribbean and southeastern U.S. has been tragic for the people that live(d) in these areas, but we haven’t really heard much about the impact of Harvey and Irma on the wildlife there. The massive deforestation caused by record high winds and extensive flooding in low-lying areas leaves little habitat and forage for resident wildlife, and will certainly prove challenging for the migratory birds that make their way south through these areas this fall.
What was green tropical vegetation before the arrival of Irma on September 7 has turned to brown as leaves were stripped from trees and ocean water flooded the Virgin islands. Photos from The Verge, September 11, 2017.
High winds and storm surge swamped the Florida Keys as well, where the diminutive Key Deer live. These pint-sized relatives of the very common White-tailed Deer are endemic to the island chain, but exist there in relatively low numbers (700-1000 animals) on the Key Deer reserves on Big Pine and Little Torch Keys.
Key Deer are about half the size of their full-grown White-tailed relative, and have adapted nicely to forage on a wide variety of wild and garden plants on the lower key islands in the Florida Keys.
You would think their small size might make them vulnerable to being swept away in hurricane winds and/or floods, but the Key Deer have inhabited these islands for the past 13,000 years and have somehow survived the worst of inclement weather there. A story today in the Washington Post reports a sighting of 4 Key Deer crossing a local road, so at least some of the population has survived. Low population numbers is a long-term concern, however, since increased inbreeding can lead to an accumulation of detrimental recessive genes, and result in reduced fitness and resilience to cope with weather disasters like the recent hurricanes there.
Signs of fall are beginning to appear as a few maple trees show some red and gold color in their leaves, the squirrels are busy collecting nuts off the trees, Canada Geese fly in V-formation overhead, and a few of the wildlife start growing their winter coats. I first noticed the latter when the fawns suddenly appeared in the backyard without their spots.
Just a trace of spots linger on the flanks of one of the twin fawns that have ravaged my wildflower garden all summer long.
The tawny brown coat with white spots is slowly being overgrown by the longer gray brown winter fur, which provides the deer with much needed insulation to survive the cold.
Not all of the fawns have started growing their winter coat, though. It’s interesting that in these twins, one is clearly well ahead of the other in development of the winter fur — which lends further proof to the observation that twin fawns are usually fraternal, not identical.
What this tells me is that there have been at least two sets of twin fawns that have been eating up the backyard garden — and I thought it was just one hungry pair that had been doing all the damage.
Late summer flowers are attracting an abundance of bees and butterflies to residential gardens now, but by far the most attractive flowers seem to be those of the succulent Stonecrop (Sedum species) and Violet butterfly bush (Buddleya species). Late summer generations of American Painted Lady are passing through the area in great numbers, probably on their way south to warmer winter climates.
A Painted Lady delicately inserts its proboscis into each open flower on a gigantic blooming head of Stonecrop. They are easily recognized by the owl eyes on the underside of their hindwings and orange and white splotches of color on the topside of their forewings. Newly emerged butterflies are brightly colored with entire margins of their wings intact.
Apparently they like the nectar of Zinnia flowers as well.
But it’s the butterfly bush (Buddleya species) that is the most popular with the butterflies. The large Eastern Tiger Swallowtails have a size advantage and might try to monopolize a flower spike,
This female Eastern Tiger Swallowtail looks a little beaten up with frayed hind wings. The eggs she will lay or has already laid will develop through the caterpillar stage and into pupae that overwinter as a chrysalis. These butterflies don’t migrate.
but the fast-darting American Painted Ladies just skip around and beneath them to feed. You can tell this is a butterfly flower from the flatenned floral disk with a thin, elongate flower tube that likely has a nectar reward at its base.
The swallowtail has inserted its proboscis deep into one of the flowers (I colored light blue) of the flower spike. Long, thin floral tubes like this would exclude almost all of the bees and flies and are probably much too narrow for hummingbirds to utilize. Thus — an exclusive butterfly resource.
A Silver-spotted Skipper tried to feed on the butterfly bush along with the other butterfly species, but seemed to be excluded or chased off. So, it settled for whatever the Hosta flowers had to offer.
What a surprise to find a lush wildflower garden growing in the damp soil at the edge of the St. Croix river at the Arcola Bluffs trail. A trail along the river’s edge led me through dense clumps of Cardinal flower, Blue Lobelia, Obedient plant, and Prairie Ironweed.
There were hundreds of individual Cardinal flower stems growing here in the semi shade and moist forest soil along the St. Croix river.
With this many attractive red flowers, you would expect to see hummingbirds, and sure enough they showed up right as I began noticing the dense flower patch.
Shot earlier in my backyard wildflower garden, but Ruby-throated Hummingbirds do love this plant.
Among the hundreds of individual plants, there was one genetic mutant, a white form of the Cardinal flower.
White mutants of brightly colored animals or plants are usually genetic recessives, and are rare in the population. I imagine hummingbirds might skip over the nectar resources in this plant (wrong color to attract them), so it might not set much seed, which further contributes to its rarity.
Another Lobelia species, the Blue Lobelia, was also growing in the riverside wildflower garden, although in much lower density.
I spotted just a few individuals of Obedient plant in this “garden”, although this plant is usually an aggresive colonist of open spaces in my backyard wildflower garden.
Prairie Ironweed seems to like the wet river bottomland as well as it does the open prarie habitat. It’s large flowerheads were particularly attractive to honeybees.
Has this lovely wildflower garden always been here? Did I just happen to hit it during its peak flowering? Other wildflower enthusiasts have reported lush blooms of cardinal flower along the backwaters of the Mississippi and St. Croix recently (late July-early August), so maybe I have just never discovered these little patches of colorful diversity along the rivers.
Hiking at high altitude is hard work. Carrying a pack more than 1/4 of your body weight at high altitude is seriously hard work. Hiking uphill with said pack on your back at high altitude is not recommended unless you have a deep desire for hurt. So, when engaging in this unthinkable activity, I have to believe that feeling tired is just a state of mind…
which can be relieved in a number of ways when that tired feeling hits during a long, hard uphill climb.
Each day there is a new and beautiful place to sleep and rejuvenate.
We are alone in this vast wilderness…at least it feels like it. I love that feeling of smallness in this vast expanse.
There is a new vista to explore around every corner.
Below 9000 feet, we can have campfires. What a difference in your mood a campfire makes! (That’s me on the far right)
The pains of a hard hike are shared, and we keep each other going.
Remembering these antics around the fire keeps me going all the next day.
We made it! Shoes got wet, but we crossed another rushing river.
photos by Becky Chaplin-Kramer
Backpacking in the wilderness yields a score of new sights and marvels, some of which make you stop and wonder — how they came to exist, or how they persist.
Landscapes like this view from 11,000+ foot Summit Pass, in the Hoover Wilderness in the eastern Sierras are a natural wonder to me.
Life exists and persists in the harshest of conditions at these high altitudes, making me appreciate what I see even more.
Wild flowers were especially vibrant this year after the mammoth snowfall in the mountains last winter. This year they will leave a lot of seed behind, which may take years to germinate depending on conditions in the next years.
Fireweed is a colorful pioneer in disturbed areas until other bushes and trees eventually outcompete them for light and water.
life growing on life — fruticose lichen on red fir
The lichen combination of Cyanobacteria and Fungi is also lush this year, after a banner year of snowfall.
You wonder how life can spring up in the middle of rocky dirt. But Pinedrops plants are parasitic and derive their energy and carbon from the mycorrhizae fungi that surround the roots of other plants.
Our hikes took us through lush meadows, over or through rushing creeks, dark pine forests, and occasionally along broad swaths of sheer granite, a place where it is easy to lose the trail. The trees here seem to be growing right out of the rock.
Small rock cairns mark the trail on exposed granite surfaces. In some areas the granite has been polished smooth by glacial movement of sand and rocks.
Our scouting trip to find a pass over a ridge between two sets of lakes was unsuccessful, but we encountered some gorgeous scenery on the almost 8 mile hike around Saddlebag Lake on the Tioga pass road over the Sierras of California.
The water is quite chilly, but the fishing seems to be good on Saddlebag Lake
Wild flowers are still in their full, blazing glory. It was a late summer this year because of all the snow. I think the purple flowers might be Monk’s Hood, a showy plant containing highly toxic alkaloids.
You couldn’t ask for a better trail. Unfortunately, it ended quite a ways before climbing into the pass over the ridge just below the pointed peak, and the way up looked much too rocky a traverse to take young hikers (or old grandparents, for that matter).
End of our good trail…these lakes are above 10,000 feet and only recently free of ice and snow.
What?! Pink snow?
Yes, it really is pink snow, colored not by leaching minerals but by the growth of the green alga (yes, it really is green under the microscope), Chlamydomonas nivalus. If there is one thing we have learned about life on earth, it’s that microbes can thrive just about anywhere, and here’s proof of life on the ice.
The algae are actually in a metabolically quiescent state, awaiting appropriate conditions, like lake water, to begin growing. But to protect themselves (and their chlorophyll) from the damage of intense radiation at high altitude, they synthesize a protective sunscreen of carotenoid pigments (yes, the same ones that make Cardinals a bright cheery red).
And so, these green, but appearing red due to carotenoids, algae slide down the snow banks toward fresh water to begin a new cycle of growth.
