Roads End Naturalist

Exploring the natural world as we wander at the end of the road

  • The Benefit of Being Close

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    Because when you stop and look around, this life is pretty amazing.

    ~Dr. Seuss

    It seems we’ve been very busy lately with guests, home projects, and some wildflower gardening. And I have been thinking I need to post about some events this past summer. Well, we were both sitting here one morning this week working on our computers when Melissa received a text from one of her co-workers at the guiding company she occasionally works for – there were wolves along the entrance road! We debated for a few minutes, should we go or will they be gone by the time we drive the 10 minutes up there? Then another text saying they were coming towards the road, so off we went.

    It took way too long to get through the entrance gate with drivers having to pay or ask questions, but we finally got up the road where we could see a group of cars two pullouts ahead. We grabbed a space in the pullout closest to us and went to the edge of a knoll to look. Someone standing there assumed we were looking for the herd of elk that had just swam across the small lake below.

    Part of the herd of elk that had just swam across the lake below the road. A decent bull was off to the right behind the trees. (click photos to enlarge)

    But we could see no wolves. Then, Melissa spotted a lone black wolf on our side of the river. It quickly disappeared. We watched the area for a while but saw no other activity. Melissa had a hunch they might try to cross the road (one was reported to have crossed before we arrived). When she saw the watchers up the road looking our way, she walked up the road a bit while I stayed back in hopes of at least one of us seeing them. I soon got a phone call from her saying they were close to her location. I mentioned it to a guy standing next to me and we quickly walked a few hundred feet up the road where she excitedly told us they had been close but just went down into a ravine. Dang it!

    We stood around a few minutes looking everywhere when she spotted one just over the knoll in front of us… well, part of one.

    A wolf head through the vegetation

    In a short time, the black wolf walked out into the open, followed by a gray one that took the lead.

    A pair of Rescue Creek wolves

    Soon there were four and they then walked into the trees out of sight.

    Three wolves now out in the open. A gray had already gone into the trees ahead.

    The wolves then began what turned into several minutes of howling. It is always magical to hear them, and their time was no different, even with the nearby traffic noise. I walked back to the car where a small group was up on a hill watching. When I joined them someone said they had crossed the river. I looked but couldn’t spot them with my binoculars, so I got the scope and found them right away. Melissa joined me and we had both scopes out sharing views with several visitors seeing their first wild wolves. They trotted across the open grassland and then wandered into the trees, no doubt seeking the coolness of the shade as we were all quite hot out in the sun.

    Melissa borrowed my phone and got this video clip on her scope of three of the now five wolves we were watching as they headed up to the trees.

    Three of the five wolves we observed trotting across the open grassland across the river

    I was going to post this the afternoon of the sightings but she reminded me it is best not to disclose the location of wolves, especially those near the park boundaries, as there are often human hunters just outside the park looking for information as to the whereabouts of wolves in order to fill their tag. Here’s hoping the pack is now further back into the park searching for prey and bringing a touch of wildness to this incredible place we now call home. Update – we have now heard that a collared wolf was killed this week in the hunting unit just outside the north boundary of the park filling the allowed quota for that unit.

  • The Living Lake

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    The still waters of a lake reflect the beauty around it.

    ~B.K.S Iyengar

    This a brief follow-up to Melissa’s last post, her eloquent recounting of our lake visits this summer, especially our 11-day paddling adventure on Yellowstone Lake in August. We experienced lots of different kinds of weather though I believe we were fortunate to have mainly calm waters and clear skies. We would start paddling after breakfast and usually were in our next camp by early afternoon with plenty of time to relax after setting up camp. While we paddled we saw lots of birds, especially waterfowl and eagles.

    One of many bald eagles we spotted along the 60+ miles of lakeshore we paddled (click photos to enlarge).

    Regulations for paddling the backcountry of Yellowstone Lake recommend staying close to shore due to the cold waters and potential for sudden wind shifts, so we passed by quite a few bald eagles perched in picturesque snags along the way. It also meant we caused several to fly off their perch as we approached, often, as birds seem to do so frequently, to fly ahead and re-perch only to be flushed again as we paddled by.

    This eagle had a leg band but, try as I might, I could not make out anything legible by enlarging the image.
    Another eagle taking flight in the morning sunlight

    The majority of the eagles we saw were mature adults with the characteristic white head and tail. We finally saw about 4 immature birds on one of the south arms of the lake, with three of them being close together at a site with a bird carcass on the shore.

    An immature eagle has claimed (or maybe killed) a prey item. I can’t quite tell what it is, can you?

    One eagle was jealously guarding a bird carcass on the shoreline with another sitting nearby and a third flying low overhead. At first I thought the eagle had killed one of the many gulls nearby but looking closely at the carcass, I think it may be something else, just not sure what.

    A very light-colored immature eagle had us wondering at first what species we were seeing through our binoculars. Compare this plumage with the much darker feathers of the previous eagle.

    A light-colored immature bald eagle

    Melissa wrote about several of the birds we saw – the brown creeper infatuated with her hammock strap, the 90+ sandhill cranes in one marsh while canoeing on a sunset paddle, the lines of baby ducks, and the white pelicans. We also saw many shorebirds along the way with the lilting flight of the spotted sandpipers being the most common.

    Spotted sandpipers were probably the second most common bird we saw on our lake trip (a warbler species was the the winner)

    Shorebird migration is underway in the park and we encountered a flock of what we believe are Baird’s sandpipers along one mudflat.

    A Baird’s sandpiper feeding in the shallows

    We stayed two nights at two different campsites which allowed for extended periods of observation of nearby wildlife. At one site, the Audubon’s warblers (a regional subspecies of the Yellow-rumped warblers we knew back in NC) were hawking for mayflies and other flying insects. I took it as a personal challenge to attempt to capture their erratic flight with my camera and took way too may photos where a bird is only partially in the frame (or not at all) as they zipped back and forth along the shore.

    A warbler closing in on a mayfly
    Success!

    Of course, there were other flying creatures that caught my attention along the way.

    Melissa spotted this beautiful Garden Tiger Moth (aka Great Tiger Moth) at one of our campsites
    One of several mating swarms of midges at one of our campsites. These non-biting insects were incredibly abundant and no doubt another excellent food source for birds and other aerial predators. like dragonflies
    A paddle-tailed darner, the most abundant dragonfly we saw on the trip

    A few of the sites had small wetlands captured behind the shoreline which turned out to be a great place to sit and watch dragonflies, damselflies, and other aquatic insects (dragons and damsels have aquatic immature stages). Capturing the dragonflies in flight was very challenging as they rapidly zoomed through an area and would pause for only a couple of seconds while I desperately tried to focus on them.

    Damselflies are characteristically easier to follow with their low slow flights. They also tend to perch on grasses periodically.

    A spreadwing damselfly (perhaps a Northern spreadwing).

    Many of the damsels were mating, with the male grabbing the female behind her head with a pair of claspers at the end of his abdomen. Once the sperm is transferred he will hang on and guard her from other males as she lays eggs in stems of vegetation. She has a knife-like appendage that cuts a slit in the plant where she deposits her eggs.

    Mating damselflies with the female below the male as she lays eggs into the plant stem

    It can be a long egg-laying process and as I watched this pair, the female kept going lower on the stem laying eggs. Finally she went underwater, carrying the male with her. Amazingly, they were submerged for many seconds while she finished her job.

    The damselfly pair remained totally underwater for many seconds as she laid eggs

    At our campsites we had the usual camp critters, with red squirrels and chipmunks being the stars.

    A chipmunk feeding on a wildflower seed near our tent

    But the critter that got the most attention from us was a pocket gopher at one of our sites. We were camped on a bluff that had thin rocky soil. There were a few pocket gopher mounds scattered around and I remember thinking to myself that this guy could have picked a much more hospitable place to be digging. We were sitting in our camp chairs and I looked down and saw a small hole in a pile of rocky rubble and said, ” could that really be a pocket gopher hole”? Suddenly a gray streak of fur came out a few inches and then quickly darted back in…a pocket gopher! In all my time in Yellowstone, I have only seen two live pocket gophers above ground (actually, one was on a road trip outside the park) so, in spite of their obvious abundance, they are one of the most difficult creatures to see and especially photograph since they rarely make aboveground appearances. Well, we decided to wait for this little guy.

    In case you’ve ever wondered, this is what stalking a pocket gopher looks like

    Luckily, the little rascal came out several more times giving us very quick glimpses of it pulling some vegetation into its hole and of it bulldozing some dirt and stones out of the hole.

    A pocket gopher grabbing some plants aboveground…look at those massive front feet and claws on such a tiny creature!
    This one looked to be about 5 inches long. They have reduced eyes and ears and external fur-lined cheek pouches for carrying food.
    Here it has just pushed some soil and a stone out of its tunnel. using its snout.

    The experience was a reminder of the vastness and diversity of this place we now call home. It gave us a new appreciation for the southern part of the park and for the beauty and power of this lake. The crystal clear waters, the gorgeous skies day and night, and the varied wildlife that depend on this habitat are all things we will carry with us until the next time we venture out seeking the solace and wonder this magical place brings.

  • Lake Time

    Posted by

    Melissa Dowland

    This summer, I had the privilege to spend time on two lakes — both cold, both clear, both surrounded by stunning mountains. One, not far from multiple major metropolitan centers of the northeastern US, is a summer destination for thousands. Its shores are dotted with motels and cabins, its waters stirred by hundreds of motor boats each day. The other, at the heart of a 2.2 million-acre park with nearly 5 million visitors a year, reaches into some of the most remote areas in the continental states and remains, for the most part, truly wild. One, I grew up visiting for a week each summer. The other is part of my new “backyard.” One experience was lively. The other was filled with solitude. Both were magical.

    LAKE GEORGE

    American white cedar trunks, straight and true, break the view of the shimmering silver water. The mountains, tinted blue with haze, hang in the distance. The thrum of boat engines is on repeat, as is the sound of children’s giggles, their small voices echoing off the cabin’s walls. Islands, rimmed with granite and roofed with tree canopy, dot the cove; a perfect foreground.

    The Waltonian Island group on Lake George

    It feels much like camping in many ways. Life is distilled down to the simple needs and pleasures: warm air, cool water, porch sitting, guitar strumming. Meals are eaten at a long table on a covered porch, the busiest “room” in the house. The day’s schedule is governed by body temperature and water temperature, sun and rain. Bathing is almost irrelevant; snacks are abundant. I hover between the lake, the dock, the porch, the canoe, the guitar; between playing cards with the nephews, playing “school” with the nieces, long talks with my siblings, nature walks with Mike, songwriting with Adam. Peter runs up the full flight of stairs from the dock to tell me about each fish he had caught. Henry asks me to count his 200 “dock pull-ups.” I teach Abby and Susie (likely to my sister’s chagrin) that it is ok to pee in the lake and drink water from the spring.

    Walking in the meadow with Abby and Susie after visiting the spring

    These moments are rich and joyful. This place is beautiful, and in a way, sacred — full of love and tradition. I have long suspected my love of nature and my desire to feel connected to the natural world were seeded here, at Lake George. Spending this week here with family seems to confirm that notion. The simple rhythms of life at the lake are the drumbeat of my heart, where I feel most at home and in sync with the world around me.

    Conversations with the nephews on the dock at moonrise

    Waves lap on rocks, voices ring across the water, a burst of sound followed by laughter. It is time to return from this slim moment of solitude and reintegrate myself into the fray — Susie reaching out to hold my finger; Abby wiggling in my lap; sitting on the dock late into the night as the moon rises over the mountains, glowing orange between layers of clouds, the boys gathered around talking about their lives… I am grateful for this place, this family, this moment.

    My nieces and nephews… love them so much. (Photo by Grace Harwood)

    YELLOWSTONE LAKE

    Yesterday, sitting under these pines, the west wind was unrelenting. Today, the lake in front of us is glass. In the same stillness, last night and this morning, the calls of dozens of sandhill cranes echoed off the mountains, mingling with the cry of loons across the lake. At one point, I heard a solitary elk bugle. There are grizzly tracks on the beach, almost certainly laid down the night or morning before our arrival here. All of the trees in camp, including the ones our food pole is attached to, have been clawed repeatedly.

    Grizzly track on the beach of our campsite

    Songbirds are abundant, including a friendly brown creeper who seems fascinated by the many places for prey to hide in the folds of my hammock straps. And chipmunks and red squirrels use our log “shelf” and “footrest” as a highway. Back in the shallow waters at the inlet of Chipmunk Creek tons of ducks are resting, including multiple families trailing ten or more babies — buffleheads, gadwall, teal.

    Brown creeper on the hammock strap. (Photo by Mike Dunn)

    Pelicans are abundant here as well — eighteen spiral in thermals, two cruise overhead on their way out into the lake, one solitary individual flew just past our canoe scant inches above the water. There is something magical about a white pelican — their white glint in the sunlight, their slowly-beating massive wings, their elegance and simplicity.

    White pelican in flight. (Photo by Mike Dunn)

    My skin is dry and brown. I haven’t worn shoes in days, only sandals. My hair is tangled, my pants are stained. There is a patch of pine resin on my left bicep. But I don’t feel dirty… daily swims in a crystal clear lake are cleansing enough.

    Obsidian and pumice beach

    Edward Abbey wrote in Desert Solitaire, my reading for the trip: “Out [here] is a different world, older and greater and deeper by far than ours… The shock is real. For a little while we are again able to see, as a child sees, a world of marvels… And our journey here on earth, able to see and touch and hear in the midst of tangible and mysterious things-in-themselves, is the most strange and daring of adventures.”

    I think this captures well the reason I seek experiences in wilderness like this 11-day journey on Yellowstone Lake. We have seen or heard little evidence of our human mark on the Earth; instead, we’ve immersed ourselves in the stillness of the natural world. Of course, even out in the wild, the sentiments Abbey describes can be fleeting when I become flustered with the burden of managing our canoe-load of stuff, or when I bring along a novel and let the real moments slip away while I am lost in its pages. But when I slow down, take things in, put pen to paper… then, I am recentered and can find that elusive sense of my minuscule place in this world which, to me, is actually a reminder that I am a part of something much bigger than myself. I can feel the grand adventure that my life can be.

    Sunrise over the Absaroka Mountains

    Did you know that pelican wings whistle with each beat?
    That long-horned beetles buzz like hummingbirds?
    That the feet of brown creepers scritch the bark of lodgepole pines as they climb and search?
    That furious wind through evergreen needles sounds like a storm,
    and the same wind in meadow-grass sounds like a sigh?
    That the cry of a loon can carry miles across still water
    and echo like a second voice off of distant hills?
    That waves rolling on obsidian sand sound like the huff of a bison’s breath?

    Looking north at sunset from the southern end of Yellowstone Lake

    LAKE TIME

    “This is the most beautiful place on earth.

    “There are many such places. Every man, every woman, carries in heart and mind the image of the ideal place, the right place, the one true home.”

    ~Edward Abbey

    I’m amazingly lucky to have a partner who is willing to embark on these many life adventures with me… thank you, Mike. (Photo by Grace Harwood)

  • Fast Water, Slo-mo Birds

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    Birds are a miracle because they prove to us there is a finer, simpler state of being which we may strive to attain.

    ~Douglas Coupland

    Earlier this week I drove down to Yellowstone Lake to have our canoe inspected (a requirement here in Yellowstone before any water craft can be launched in park waters to guard against introduction of invasives). It is a long drive and there were the usual delays of road construction and bison jams. I had hoped to do some more filming of the bison rut but that was not to be since the road work had almost all the pullouts closed in Hayden Valley. On my return trip I stopped at Lehardy Rapids to check for any birds that might be using the area. I didn’t expect to see any of the harlequin ducks I posted about earlier this summer but wanted to check anyway.

    I was surprised to see a dozen or more harlequins in the usual spots on rocks in the fast-flowing waters of this well-known spot on the Yellowstone River. The colorful males leave the inland waters after breeding season in early summer and fly to their wintering habitats of coastal waters. This group was made up of adult females and juvenile birds of the year which closely resemble females. Young males acquire their beautiful plumage in about two years after hatching. About half of the ducks were swimming and diving in the rapids so I started filming in both real time and slow motion to see which gives a better feel for the energy of the water and the birds riding the waves. See what you think. Videos best viewed full screen.

    –Two harlequin ducks riding the rapids in real time

    –Two harlequin ducks diving for food filmed in slow motion

    Look closely at the slow motion video and you can see the birds underwater as a light brown shape.

    I filmed a lot of birds in both real time and slow motion as they swam against the fast moving water. At one point I noticed the duck looking skyward repeatedly so I glanced up and saw what I expected – a large raptor circling high overhead. Even when swimming in such a strong current you still need to keep an eye out for potential threats. The raptor flew off and the duck resumed feeding.

    –This duck was keeping an eye on the raptor soaring high overhead

    Several people walked by me while I was observing the ducks. One young man was with a group of students from Pennsylvania. He said he was the only birder in the group. He asked if I had seen any American dippers as he really wanted a photo of one. I had seen two people with binoculars just downstream watching something along the shoreline. Though I couldn’t see the bird I suspected they were seeing a dipper. I shared that with the young man and he was off. I could tell from his reaction when he got down there that he did get his bird. I decided to walk down that way and was rewarded with what I assume was a juvenile dipper feeding very close to the bank in shallow riffles. While I watched, it was very successful in capturing numerous caddisfly larvae off the rock surfaces.

    –This little guy had a knack for finding caddisfly larvae

    The two people that I had seen watching the dipper are from Massachusetts and were birders. They had wanted to see dippers and were very excited at finding the juvenile bird so close to shore. They soon spotted an adult out in the rapids. I moved back upstream to film the adult that was foraging in deeper and much faster water. Note the dipping movement for which these birds are named. Theories for this behavior include that it is visual communication to other birds in their noisy environment, that changing head position may help them spot underwater prey easier, and that the dipping mimics the tumbling waters and may help confuse predators. I have seen them dip much more vigorously and that may be in response to other dippers nearby (a territorial display) or to my presence as a perceived potential threat.

    –An American dipper adult foraging in the rapids

    This next sequence in slow motion shows that dipper looking underwater and finally grabbing a large prey item. Dippers have large feet and long claws to help them hold onto the rocks in the current. They also will dive into deeper waters and “swim” underwater using the wings and feet as they look for aquatic insects.

    –A dipper catches a large aquatic insect (looks like a stonefly larva)

    A group of four common mergansers flew into the scene so I switched my focus to these large fish-eating ducks.

    –A common merganser bobbing in the rapids

    They seemed to prefer a spot in the river just downstream from a large rock shelf in the river.

    –A common merganser foraging in slow motion

    I was following two mergansers in a large wave in the river when something unexpected happened that proved to be one of the highlights of my slow motion filming that day. Watch as a much smaller harlequin duck lets the bigger merganser know that it is not welcome in the harlequin’s dining room.

    –This harleqiun duck is letting the merganser know who is boss in this stretch of rapids

    It was a great couple of hours spent watching these birds in the rushing waters of LeHardy Rapids. Both real time and slow motion video gives a feel for what these birds are capable of in navigating the rapids. But the slow motion makes it seem more like a choreographed play where feathered bodies and waves interact in a beautiful ballet.

  • The Wallow

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    People are drawn to bison without quite knowing why. Seeing them stirs something old. Something nearly lost. There is wonder in it. And hope.

    ~Chris Geremia, in Yellowstone Bison, Return of the Last Wild Herd, 2026

    The bison rut is reaching its peak here in the park and it seems there is just not enough time to take it all in. A couple of days ago Melissa and I went out with one goal – observe bison as they engage in their annual courtship behavior known as the rut. The bison rut typically begins in mid to late July and runs into early September with the peak being a couple of weeks in early August. Cows and calves have formed large herds and the bulls are following and courting females. Many bulls have picked a cow (for now) and are following her every movement, guarding her against other bulls, and directing where she can and cannot go. Melissa thinks they are bullies:)

    Bull bison tending a cow

    The rut is both a visual and auditory spectacle unlike any other and the deep bellows of the bulls are resonating across the landscape in places like Lamar and Hayden Valleys and Little America. A key feature of the rut that is easily seen in these grasslands is the wallowing of the bulls. Wallowing is where a bison picks a spot (usually an existing bison-sized depression in the soil created by years of bison wallowing) and flops down on its side and kicks and partially rolls onto its back. They really can’t roll all the way over because of their huge shoulder humps. Wallowing is done throughout the year when the land is not snow-covered as a way to reduce biting insects, regulate body temperature, and leave behind their scent. Cows also wallow. During the rut, wallowing takes on some extra significance for the bulls – it signals their dominance and strength. While we observed the herd, a bull would often bellow on the approach of another bull and then paw at the ground, flop down hard, and wallow, kicking up dust as he did. In fact, looking across the landscape this time of year you see countless dust clouds from bison wallowing.

    –A live speed video clip of a bull bison wallowing. Note the numerous deep bellows he makes to let other bulls know he is a dominant male.

    The rut is about strength and endurance. Slow motion video seems to help accentuate the power of a bull’s motions. Unfortunately, it does not include audio in this format on my camera. Here are a couple of clips showing that strength.

    –A bull rolls in the dust marking himself and the ground with urine to leave his scent behind

    –A complete wallow ending with a shake of his massive head that sends out a cloud of dust.

    I bet if the other bulls could see their rivals in slow motion, it might be a deterrent to engaging in actual combat. Right now, it seems like it is mainly a show of strength and posturing to help minimize battles. When a bull approached another tending a cow, the latter bull often bellows, wallows, and then steps out in the direction of the approaching intruder. That is usually enough to cause the approaching bull to change direction or for the tending bull to decide it is not in his best interest to continue courting that particular female. We hope to get in a couple more days of bison watching before the rut concludes in early September. And there are many more adventures ahead, so stay tuned.

  • Pika Perfect

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    I find an incredible amount of joy when I spend time with the American pika.

    ~Deirdre Denali

    Last week we took some visiting friends up to the Beartooths for the scenery and a break from the heat. While there we looked for pikas in some talus slopes along the roadside. We were rewarded with several of the little cuties roaming the rocks and collecting vegetation for their winter food supply – their haystacks. Melissa saw one pika go under a large boulder and later took a look and confirmed a nice haystack in progress. So, when she went hiking this past weekend with friends (I declined because of a persistent sore heel), I headed back to the Beartooths for some pika time. The site where we saw them before is near our favorite pika spot but just below the road instead of a short hike above. Given my foot ailment I opted for the lesser walk and picked a flat rock to sit on just yards be;ow the Beartooth Highway. Unfortunately, it was a biker rally weekend in Red Lodge so I literally heard hundreds of motorcycles go by above me in my 6 hours of pika watching. But it was worth it and the pikas didn’t seem to mind the noise.

    My pika scene. Note the dark rock outcrop on the far side of the grass on the left.. I’ll come back to it later. It is on the edge of the drop-off of several hundred feet between my site and the snow-covered slopes across the way.

    After I settled in uphill from the known haystack location, it took about 20 minutes before I saw my first pika movement. As usual, that first one was a brief blur of fur between the rocks out of the corner of my eye. I then stared in that location and it appeared again and moved up on a rock to look around. It was quite a distance from me so I didn’t raise the camera. That’s the usual way it goes with pika. But this was going to be the longest I ever sat in a pika habitat so I expected better sightings as time went on. And, indeed, that was what happened. I soon saw a pika running toward the haystack under the rock about 10 feet from where I sat.

    A grand pose by my furry little friend

    It was awesome watching this little guy (or gal?) running through the rocks toward me. It would appear and then disappear as it traversed the 100 feet between where I first saw it and the haystack rock. It seemed I had been accepted as just another blob on the landscape. So, for the next few hours I watched these amazing and industrious little rabbit relatives (yes, they are in the same Order as rabbits and hares, the Lagomorphs, but are a separate family. Ochotonidae). Here are just a few of the images I captured while enjoying their company…

    Pika coming right toward me
    Pika often leap from one rock to another as they scurry about collecting vegetation
    The haystack near where I sat. I got this pic as I left the area. Notice to the right of the vegetation is a pile of droppings.

    Pikas do not hibernate so they spend the summer month collecting vegetation and storing it in piles under overhanging rocks. These haystacks provide their food during the long cold winter. Researchers estimate a single pika may collect between 30 to 60 pounds of vegetation for its winter store. A pika weighs about 6 ounces. If it were the size of a human, they would be collecting about 5000 pounds of vegetation! I think I saw about 3 adults collecting vegetation. They don’t share their winter stockpile and I found the location of one other haystack near me. The kept a steady pace of collecting and transporting with occasional breaks for just eating grasses. Observers say a pika may make up to 14,000 short trips a summer stockpiling ts winter food supply.

    A pika chewing some grass like some people eat spaghetti
    This pika liked to sit on this particular rock and survey the scene. It squeaked an alarm when a raven flew over but basically ignored me sitting about 15 feet away.
    A pika coming in with a mouthful for its haystack
    This is the main plant the pika were bringing to their haystack – alpine avens

    Studies have shown that pika preferentially collect leaves of alpine avens, a common alpine wildflower, and bring it to the haystacks. It is high in tannin which helps prevent decomposition which could hasten the decay of other species in their larder.

    At one point I looked up and coming up over that dark gray pile of rocks I mentioned earlier was a band of mountain goats. They looked as surprised to see me as I was to see them.

    The first of thirteen Rocky Mountain goats that came up over the steep ravine into the area where I was watching the pika.

    The goats walked calmly in a group and disappeared over another steep drop-off. I have often seen them in this area so I figured they might go up to a grassy knoll above the road but I never saw them there. I took a break for lunch and decided to go look for the goats by driving up to Beartooth Pass (over 10,000 feet in elevation). Sure enough, just beyond the pass I saw a couple of cars pulled over and I slowed and could see the goats below the road. I parked and watched them for about 30 minutes as they grazed in the flower-rich alpine meadows.

    Most of the goat herd grazing near the edge of the cliff
    What an amazing place for an animal to make a living
    There were several baby goats, called kids, with the herd
    Though they are an introduced species in this part of the Rockies, those kids sure are cute

    Mountain goats were introduced to the region in the 1940’s and 50’s for hunting. They appeared in Yellowstone in the 1990’s. There are around 200-300 in the park today and many more in the Beartooth Plateau. There is concern that they may have negative impacts on the delicate alpine habitats and may out-compete the native bighorn sheep for resources. I recently read that because of these issues, officials in Grand Teton National Park have been working for a few years to remove all mountain goats from that park. Makes me wonder if Yellowstone is considering that as well.

    Back at the pika habitat, it didn’t take long for activity to pick up. Then I saw the first of two baby pikas, called piklets (just love that). And I have to say, even though I don’t use this word that often, they were adorable. Born hairless and blind in late spring, they grow rapidly and within a few weeks are exploring their rocky home. These little guys were very timid but curious. If i moved they would disappear but soon came right back out to look and nibble on the nearby vegetation.

    This little guy was my constant companion after my lunch break and calmly sat about 5 feet from me
    This piklet was a bit more of an explorer and wandered several feet away from what I assume was the “nursery rock”

    As often happens, when you sit in one spot for any length of time, all sorts of critters seem to accept your presence and make an appearance. But, I’m not sure the two local marmots were all that accepting as this one sounded its shriek alarm whistle anytime I budged. The pikas heeded the alarm at first but then started to ignore it as they apparently did not see me as a threat

    A marmot sending out its shrill alarm whistle

    Another high altitude visitor stopped by – a beautiful black rosy finch. This species is a high altitude specialist, spending most of its time in alpine environments..

    I was amazed at how the plumage pattern on this bird matches the lichen colors on the boulder.

    Toward the end of my stay I saw one pika cutting flowers. That was one of the images I really wanted.

    A perfect ending to a wonderful day of observing pika

    I look forward to returning to pikaville for some more photographs and observations of one of the cutest mammals in North America.

  • Amphibian Exploration

    Posted by

    Melissa Dowland

    In the middle of June, I got to lead the Museum’s Educators of Excellence Institute in Yellowstone. One of the highlights of our trip was exploring a pond that had formed behind sand bars at the edge of Yellowstone Lake. Greg had heard chorus frogs calling and wanted to explore. Right off the bat, I saw movement as a large frog jumped into the water. It was a Columbia spotted frog! Shortly after that, I spotted a small boreal chorus frog and picked it up to show everyone. As we waded further along the marshy edge, one of the teachers, Mikayla, hollered that she’d spotted a salamander! It was a blotched tiger salamander, the only species of salamander found in Yellowstone. As we continued to explore, we found three more salamanders, another Columbia spotted frog, and a bunch more chorus frogs.

    Blotched tiger salamander

    North Carolina has more salamander species than any other state, with a total number that hovers around 60 (but changes frequently as scientists argue over lumping similar species together or splitting them out into separate species). In addition to the salamanders, there are many species of frogs and toads. The humid climate and variety of habitats found across the state lead to this level of diversity.

    In Yellowstone, there are only 5 species of amphibians: 2 types of frogs (the two we found in the pond), 2 types of toads (the boreal toad, which our group saw later in the trip, and the western spadefoot toad), and 1 species of salamander. So to find three of the five species in one pond was amazing!

    I wrote about our favorite North Carolina salamander, the spotted salamander, in one of the stories for Volume 1 of my book series, Walks with a Naturalist (which are now available through a platform besides Amazon… more info here!).

    Here’s that story…

    Salamander Night Out

    It was a rainy December night.  It wasn’t too cold, even though it was winter in North Carolina.  It was just the kind of night Mike and I hope for!  We knew it would be a special night.  We put on our rain jackets and rain pants and rubber boots, and we went outside.  We slowly explored with flashlights.  

    Mike saw something shine in his light.  It was a spotted salamander!  We rushed over to see.  It was dark-colored with bright yellow and orange spots.  It had big, bulgy eyes.  And it was crawling as fast as it could.  We followed it.  It headed straight for our pond!  It climbed into the water.  We shined our flashlights into the pond.  Under the water were lots of other spotted salamanders!  Some crawled on the bottom.  Some swam up to the surface for a breath of air.  Some nudged each other.  

    Two nights later, Mike and I went out and looked into the pond with our flashlights again.  A spotted salamander was holding onto a stick with her four legs.  She was laying eggs!  Attached to the stick was a blob of clear jelly.  In the blob were many clear circles with dark centers, her eggs.

    Spotted salamander laying eggs. Photo by Mike Dunn.

    We watched the eggs over the next few weeks.  The eggs swelled to a bigger size.  The dark centers of the eggs developed into tiny salamanders with heads and tails.  One day, there were lots of tiny salamanders swimming in the pond.  The eggs had hatched! 

    Spotted salamander egg mass.

    The young salamanders got bigger.  We noticed they had feathery gills on the sides of their heads.  They used their gills to breathe.  They had four tiny legs.  They ate mosquito larvae and other small insects living in the pond.  They kept growing. 

    Spotted salamander larva. Photo by Mike Dunn.

    Then one day, they were gone!  They had grown into salamander teenagers, called metamorphs.  The metamorphs returned to burrows in the woods.  They would eat bugs and worms and slugs.  They would grow up.  In a few years, on another rainy winter night, they would return to our pond to lay eggs of their own!

    Metamorph: A salamander that has recently transformed. For a spotted salamander, a metamorph has absorbed its feathery gills and is ready to leave the pond, but it doesn’t have all the features of an adult yet.

    Last week, Mike and I returned to the pond on the shore of Yellowstone Lake. This time, we didn’t hear or see any boreal chorus frogs. There were still a number of Columbia spotted frogs around. And though we looked and looked, we didn’t see any adult tiger salamanders. However, I was excited to spot some small salamander larvae. You can distinguish them from tadpoles because they have large, feathery gills on either side of their head. They were about two or three inches long and quickly scurried away when they spotted us so, unfortunately, we didn’t get any pictures.

    Mike and I don’t know a ton about the life cycle of the blotched tiger salamanders in Yellowstone yet. Without a pond in our yard, it’s a little bit harder to keep track of what’s going on with them! Mike found a master’s thesis (Steven Hill, 1995, Montana State University) about their behavior in Yellowstone indicating that they typically move to ponds to breed in April or May, then return to their terrestrial burrows in July and August. Most of their movement happens within 24 hours of rain. We’d had a few rainy days and nights between when I saw them with the Institute teacher group and when Mike and I revisited the pond last week. We suspected that the adults had migrated away from the pond on those rainy nights.

    We didn’t notice any eggs in the pond, but tiger salamanders lay eggs singly or in small groups, so they would be harder to find than the spotted salamander eggs pictured in my story. I suspect the larvae we saw may have hatched last year and remained in the pond through the winter, because they seemed a bit too large to have hatched this spring. At high elevations like in Yellowstone, the aquatic larvae may stay in the pond up to two or even three years before they transform into adults. And in some cases, they may reach sexual maturity but remain in an aquatic form with gills for their entire life (called neoteny or paedomorphism).

    Mike and I are excited to revisit the pond to see if we can observe a bit more of the life cycle of Yellowstone’s one type of salamander. We’ll let you know what else we learn!

  • Raising Raptors Update

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    A bird is safe in its nest — but that is not what its wings are made for.

    ~Amit Ray

    We checked on the raptor nests a couple of times this week and there have been some interesting developments. We drove up to see the great horned owl nest on Thursday and when I looked at the nest cavity I didn’t see the adult or the two owlets. I was disappointed and worried at first but after glassing around the area I saw the two owlets sitting in a dead tree about 50 feet from the nest tree. Then I spied the well-camouflaged adult perched below them.

    Great horned owl family in their new tree (click photos to enlarge)

    I think she may be glad they have departed what seemed to be cramped nesting quarters as she can now just sit on a branch without being jostled by the squirmy youngsters.

    Mom chilling out in the new digs

    Great horned owl babies often leave the nest before they can fly, a process known as “branching”. They may jump or even fall out of the nest and then will try to climb off the ground on leaning trees (to be safer from most terrestrial predators). Since both owlets are in the same tree I am guessing they jumped and used their developing wings to clumsily fly over to that tree where they probably had a less than graceful landing. This behavior usually occurs at about 6 to 7 weeks after hatching. They will stay in this area for a few more weeks as the adults continue to bring their food. I may try to get up there one more time to see if I can find them to check in. Happy to see them make it this far.

    Once again we set up the scopes and filmed a bit of the owl family. One owlet was behind a tangle of branches so Melissa just filmed the larger one. Here is a clip of that little dude (videos best viewed full screen).

    –The larger of the two owlets doing some stretches

    On the way out to the owls we stopped at the red-tailed hawk nest but it was so windy we couldn’t get any decent video. Here is a shot showing two of the three nestlings. They have really grown.

    Baby red-tails are really growing and look almost ready to fly

    The osprey nest was occupied by the female adult but the young were hunkered down so we didn’t get any images. Our last stop was the peregrine nest. The three remaining young were visible and the adult was sitting in a favorite perch on our side of the canyon. We enjoyed sharing the scope views with a family who had hoped to see some birds on their visit. I saw the adult fly off the perch so we started looking to see what it might try to catch but we lost track of it in the deep canyon. Suddenly it flew into the nest and the young scrambled over each other to get the food. We were trying to see what it had brought when it picked up the prey and turned – a fish! Here is a somewhat long clip of the feeding frenzy. See if you agree with us that this fish looks a bit stiff so maybe she found a dead fish along the river? So, on our few visits where we have witnessed the adult bring in prey, the premier avian predator that is supposed to eat primarily birds has brought in two birds, a rodent, and a fish. I guess you bring in anyting you can find when the kids are hungry.

    –The peregrine adult picking at a fish to feed the hungry chicks

    After the adult leaves the chicks continued to peck at the fish and squabble a bit over it. One chick did some wing testing but that always made me nervous since one false step means a very long fall down to the river below.

    –Still lots of action from the chicks after the adult leaves

    We checked again a couple of days later and all three are still there though they were mainly hiding back in the crevice holes to escape the heat. That morning we also checked the red-tailed hawk nest and could see only one chick for sure. As we climbed the slope across the road from the nest for an off-trail hike with friends, I looked up and saw an adult red-tail flying with a juvenile. I’m pretty sure one of those young has left the nest and was getting lessons on how to use a thermal. Though I didn’t have a camera with me it is something I will have a memory of for a long time.

    And here is one last raptor sighting we had recently. Though it isn’t a nest photo, this bald eagle was posing nicely on the tip of a tall conifer near a pullout in Round Prairie so I thought I would share.

    A beautiful bald eagle in the top of a tree in Round Prairie

    Though we remained in our car, I think the eagle decided to move on and when it did it provided us with a unique photo op.

    The eagle’s head seen through its wing feathers as it lifts off

  • Of Bears and Ants

    Posted by

    Melissa Dowland

    “Well, let me tell you, ants are the dominant insects. They make up as much as a quarter of the biomass of all insects in the world… And the rest of life is substantially dependent upon them.”
    ~E.O. Wilson

    Here’s another one of the stories from my book series, Walks with a Naturalist. This one, Hot Ants, is from Volume 1. Stay tuned at the end for some fun follow-up from recent explorations in the park, and how bears relate to this whole thing!

    Hot Ants

    When Mike and I visit Yellowstone, we always carry an infrared thermometer.  It’s like the ones that doctors sometimes use.  You point it at something and pull the trigger, and it measures the temperature.  In Yellowstone, an infrared thermometer is perfect for taking the temperature of hot springs because you aren’t allowed to touch them.  They could burn you, and some contain chemicals that aren’t good for you!  

    One time, we were hiking in Yellowstone with our infrared thermometer, and Mike noticed a huge ant mound.  It was about the size of a squishmallow.  The top of the mound was covered with short needles from fir trees.  The needles were old and brownish-orange, not fresh and green like the ones on the trees.  

    There were ants crawling on the mound and on the ground nearby.  The ants had red heads and black abdomens.  They were bigger than the sugar ants that come into our kitchen.  They were smaller than the huge carpenter ants we see in rotting logs.  

    Mike pointed the infrared thermometer at the ground.  It was 85 degrees.  Then he pointed it at the ant mound.  It was 95 degrees!  The ants had built their mound in a sunny spot.  The heat from the sun warmed their mound.  Later that night, the fir needles on the top of the mound would keep it warm, like the blankets on your bed keep you warm at night.  Ants need to be warm to grow and survive.  

    Mike and I enjoyed watching the ants.  Some ants took care of the mound.  They made sure the needle blanket covered the whole mound.  Other ants went out to collect honeydew from aphids.  Aphids are insects that feed on the sap of plants.  Their waste is honeydew, a sweet liquid that the ants like to eat.  We also noticed that some ants would find dead insects and carry them back to the nest for food. 

    Thatch ants with aphids. Photo credit: Greg Skupien

    After doing some research, we discovered these ants are called western thatch ants.  The word “thatch” means a roof made from plants.  That’s just what the ants did – they built a mound with a roof made from plants!  

    See if you can find ant colonies near your home.  What are your ants doing?   What type of home do they live in?

    Last week, I had the privilege to lead the NC Museum of Natural Sciences’ Yellowstone Institute with twelve amazing teachers from all over North Carolina, plus two awesome coworkers from the Museum. On our last morning, we took a final visit to Lamar Valley to look for wildlife. One of the first wildlife encounters of the day was a male black bear on the side of the road. We watched from the safety of the vehicles as it stopped and dug in a bunch of spots.

    Black bear digging

    I love how you can see the dirt flying at the start of this video! Video credit: Robin Owens-Pittman, one of the teachers in our group, shot through the van window.

    After the bear crossed the road and moved away from where we were parked, we hopped out of the vans to figure out what it was after. We found a number of spots where we could tell it had been digging by the streaks of fresh soil on top of the vegetation and usually at least a small hole, too.

    Spot where the bear was digging

    Each place the bear had dug, ants were scurrying everywhere. Many of them were carrying larvae or pupae, much like you’ve probably seen them do if you’ve ever turned over a rock or a log and disturbed an ant nest. We could only assume the bear was digging up ant nests and eating the ants!

    A close crop of the hole in the previous picture. You can see a few ants with white pupae or larva along the top side of the hole.

    You might also notice the pieces of dead vegetation surrounding this hole. The bear was targeting the mounds of thatch ants, like the ones in my story, for its breakfast!

    About a week later, Mike and I were out in the park and spotted a cinnamon-colored black bear in the same area where the workshop group at seen the black bear digging. This bear seemed more intent on turning over rocks than throwing dirt around.

    “I wonder what’s under this rock?”
    You can see the pile of dried vegetation that is the thatch ant mound under and in front of the bear’s paw.

    Once again, after the bear moved on, we got out to take a look at what it was up to. We found a number of flipped rocks, and again, most were swarming with thatch ants!

    Flipped rock with some ant-thatching around the edge

    Though I knew bears ate ants, it was really neat to see that behavior in action! A little googling brought up a number of scientific studies on ant-foraging by bears. I found this gem of a quote in a study in a 2004 issue of Western North American Naturalist: “A 41-kg, 2.5-year-old male bear shot in mid-July as a nuisance bear had consumed 2.1 kg (wet weight) of Formica, approximately 7840 workers and 54,700 brood [larvae and pupae]. The value of this meal was about 695 calories, which would have provided about 37% of this bear’s daily maintenance requirement.” That’s a lot of ants! The authors of the paper suspect that bears are preferentially searching for and consuming ant larvae and pupae because they are more digestible than adults and have no way to defend themselves.

    Taking that a step further, a 2014 study suggested that bear predation on ant nests caused a trophic cascade. You’ve probably heard about the tropic cascade tied to gray wolves: more wolves means less elk which means healthier aspens and willows (among other things). Recent publications are showing it’s nowhere near as simple as that… but wolves most certainly play a role.

    In the bear-ant case, here’s how it plays out. Thatch ants protect sap-sucking insects and collect their honeydew, as I described in my story. Without bear predation, the sap-sucking insects (in the case of the 2014 study, leafhopper nymphs) thrive under the protection of the ants. More sap-sucking insects means more damage to their host plants. But in areas with increased bear predation on ants, there weren’t as many ants remaining to guard the leafhopper nymphs, allowing predators of the nymphs to swoop in and eat them up, leading to few leafhopper nymphs. With fewer leafhopper nymphs, there was less stress on the plants, and the plants grew measurably better. It’s always amazing to rediscover just how interconnected the natural world is!

  • Harlequin

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    The male in breeding plumage is one of the more visually chaotic birds in North America.

    ~Aaron Bailey, Owner, Teton Excursions

    On most of museum educator workshops in years past, we would stop at LeHardy Rapids to look for a particular species, the harlequin ducks. This stretch of fast-flowing waters is considered by some to be the boundary between Yellowstone Lake and where it becomes the Yellowstone River. The rapids are spectacular in spring and the colorful ducks that spend several weeks here are equally impressive.

    A gang of harlequin ducks hanging out on the rocks at LeHardy Rapids

    Most years, we see only the boldly patterned males hanging out on a few rocks in the rapids. This year, Melissa and I saw a female who is mainly grayish brown with a noticeable white spot on the side of the head. The common name, harlequin, comes from colorful characters in theatrical productions of Italian comedy in the 16th to 18th centuries that were popular in much of Europe. The character’s costume was quite garish with bold colors and patterns and in the late 1700’s these ducks were given the name because of the male’s colors. Even the scientific name, Histrionicus histrionicus, is from Latin meaning “theatrical”.

    Illustration from Wikicommons of one of the comic characters for which these ducks are named

    It was amazing to watch these birds navigate the rapids. They are well-adapted to live in these harsh conditions: they have powerful legs and webbed feet for propulsion against the current; they use their wings, held slightly open, to help steer in the waves; and they have densely packed feathers that trap air providing both insulation and buoyancy after diving to feed on aquatic insects and small fish. Even that flashy color is believed to help camouflage them in the waves. Studies of museum specimens have provided data suggesting these ducks suffer more broken bones than any other species, not surprising given their habitat of rushing waters and boulders.

    A male and female swimming against the rapids

    –A pair of harlequin ducks riding the waves

    These birds thrive in fast-flowing waters like LeHardy Rapids
    A harlequin male torpedoes upstream over a rapid
    Their dense feather layers hold air and make the birds quite buoyant so they tend to pop back to the surface like a cork even in the roughest waters
    A male flaps his wings after spending minutes in the waves

    They tend to be at LeHardy Rapids for several weeks with females then departing to nest on smaller tributaries that are not quite as fast-flowing. They migrate to coastal waters for the winter were they feed on a variety of tidal marine invertebrates. Due to their remote habitat preferences, little is known about overall population trends although their wintering population in the northeastern United States has been declining.

    LeHardy Rapids provides birdwatchers with an excellent chance to see these beautiful birds every spring and we always look forward to spending time with these elegant “clowns of the waves”.

    The harlequins posing in their clown suits (the males that is) on their favorite perch in the rapids

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