Roads End Naturalist

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

  • First Flower?

    Posted by

    Melissa Dowland

    A couple days ago, Mike and I went for a hike in Custer-Gallatin National Forest not far from our house. The trail followed a small creek up a ravine dotted with large Douglas fir trees and limber pines. We were excited to see three species of deciduous trees as well: quaking aspen, Rocky Mountain maple, and alder. Most of the trail was snow-free, as this has been a mild and warm winter. However, the day of our hike was cold and windy, so at least the trail was frozen rather than muddy!

    Very chilly! Plus, blaze orange as tribal members are still hunting in the vicinity.

    On our way down, we struck off through some sagebrush on a game trail to a flat hill overlooking the Yellowstone River valley and across to Electric Peak. The trail was dotted with piles and piles of elk scat, more than we’ve seen on pretty much any trail we’ve been on. As we reach a flat area and looked around us, I noticed a group of elk on the slope across the creek from us. It was a group of about 25 elk, all looking over at us. Outside of the national park, elk are hunted, so these animals were wary. I checked them out through my small, car binoculars (I had forgotten my real ones at home, duh!). Then, a bit to the left, I was shocked to notice an even larger herd of elk. They covered the open sagebrush slope. I counted tens through my binoculars. I think there were perhaps 200 total, including the 25 I had seen originally. It was quite an impressive sight. You might think that would have been the highlight of our hike… but wait…

    That’s a lot of elk scat, folks.

    I’ve been seeing lots of pictures of trout lilies from folks in North Carolina lately. Usually, wildflowers in Yellowstone don’t start until much later, though of course, we’re still learning the phenological timeline here as we experience our first spring as residents of the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem. Around the house, we’ve seen green rosettes of leaves that look like they’re starting to come to life as temperatures warm. But honestly, I’m not sure they’ve changed much. Plus, this has been a very odd winter, with much warmer temperatures than normal.

    An illustration of the development of a trout lily flower I did for a writing project I’ve been working on… more on this in the coming months.

    When I spotted a yellow flower hugging the ground near the rock I was sitting on, I was excited! It reminded me of the yellow stonecrop (lanceleaf stonecrop) that is abundant around here. In the summer, we had seen a Rocky Mountain parnassian butterfly laying eggs on and near stonecrop plants out in the park. I immediately thought of those butterfly eggs and wondered if they’d be hatching soon to munch on the spring stonecrop growth.

    Seeing one yellow flower, I started to see more. They were dotting the hillside we were on! There seemed to be another flower about every four or five feet. Mike and I both took a number of pictures with our phones, thinking to share about our first wildflowers in March in Montana!

    Our first spring “flowers!” (Note the quotation marks… and keep reading!)

    Fast forward a couple of days. I wanted to verify which stonecrop flower this was and look at its typical blooming season. I pulled our trusty “Flora of the Yellowstone” field guide. I flipped to the entry for stonecrop, of which there is apparently just one species. As I looked at the pictures, I realized they didn’t look very much like the yellow flowers we had seen on the trail. I pulled up my pictures to compare. Neither the flowers nor the leaves matched. Not a stonecrop! I flipped through the section of the field guide for yellow flowers. Nothing matched the flowers we had seen. When in doubt, there are resources for these things… so I plugged a photo of the flowers in my SEEK app. It immediately identified my “flower” as mustard flower rust, Puccinia monoica. I looked through the images of the species in the app… indeed, that’s exactly what Mike and I had seen. Not a flower at all!

    This discovery set us off on a huge google-fest to try to figure out what exactly was going on. Here’s the story, to the best of my ability to explain it. The rust is a fungi. Like many other rusts, it requires two host plants. The rust I was most familiar with in North Carolina was cedar apple rust that infected cedar and apple trees. Mustard flower rust uses a few species of grass as its primary host (where spores for sexual reproduction are produced) and plants in the mustard family as its alternate host (a second host needed for other parts of its life cycle). The plant we were seeing with its yellow “flowers” was a rock cress, which is in the mustard family, an alternate host for the mustard flower rust.

    It turns out that the mustard flower rust is an example of a “zombie fungus.” It takes control of the plant to make it produce the yellow flower-mimic we were seeing all over the hillside. It starts when fungal spores land on the mustard plant. These spores are haploid (which I had to look up), meaning that they have only half the chromosomes of the plant. In the case of mammals, an analog would be eggs and sperm. However, these spores (basidiospores, if you want some new vocabulary to throw around at your next cocktail party) can do a lot more than just an egg or sperm cell can. They land on the mustard plant and immediately grow hyphae to tap into the rock cress’s nutrient flow. The fungus infiltrates multiple genes of the plant, triggering a number of different processes. The plant begins to produce smaller, rounded leaves that are more symmetrical than normal to make those leaves look more like a flower. The fungus also suppresses the development of real flowers so the leaves it is busy turning into fake-fungus-flowers will linger longer. It activates genes in the plant for the production of wax, which may keep the pseudoflowers from drying out. It increases sugar production in the plant to create a fake-fungus-nectar that is twenty times more sugary than normal nectar AND it has the plant synthesize fragrant compounds that smell good to pollinators!

    Why does it do this, you might ask? Well, just like the flowers it is mimicking, the fungus needs to transfer genetic material to sexually reproduce. As the fungus grows into the host rock cress, it develops fungal structures known as spermatogonia. The spermatogonia are yellow dots covering the surface of the modified leaves, giving the pseudoflowers their yellow coloration, which can help attract pollinators (and fool naturalists), too! These structures produce spermatia spores (also haploid, like the basidiospores, because they haven’t met “the right one” just yet), the next phase of the fungus’s life cycle. Now, the fungus could just rely on the wind to spread those spores (and if you keep reading, you will find that it does, indeed, use the wind later in its super complicated life cycle). But this fungus selected for a different dispersal mechanism at this stage of its development. Pollinators including bees, flies, ants, and wasps are attracted by the scent, sweet nectar, and yellow coloration of the fake-fungus-flower. As they land to collect nectar, they also pick up the spermatia produced by the fungus. When they fly off to find another nice-smelling, super-sweet-treat fungus-flower, they carry the spores with them. Basically, the fungus hijacks the plant AND the local pollinators to reproduce.

    You’re looking at this “flower” differently now, aren’t you!

    Pretty crazy, right? And honestly, this is the heart of the story. But I couldn’t leave it there. I wanted to know the whole story, the rest of the rust’s life cycle. It was a deep dive into terms I have not heard since high school, but it’s fascinating. If you want to join me in this rabbit hole… keep reading.

    When a pollinator covered in fungus spermatia lands on another rock cress that is also infected with the rust (because, of course, that rock cress has bright yellow, nice-smelling, nectar-producing psuedoflowers too), complementary spermatia join (love at first sight!). This is the first step in fungal sex. It is definitely not the last, because the haploid — remember, half the chromosomes — cell nuclei of the spermatia don’t join just yet; instead, they hang out together-but-separate within the same cell. (Need another vocab word for your next cocktail party? Try “dikaryotic.” Autocorrect just tried to change that to eukaryotic. You might remember eukaryotic, as I do, from high school biology class. Eukaryotic is the word for cells with a nucleus, as opposed to prokaryotic, which are cells like bacteria that don’t have a nucelus. Well, dikaryotic, a new word for me, means a cell with two haploid nuclei within the same cell. Never knew that was a thing. Anyway, enough biology for now.)

    The new, friendly-but-not-totally-joined-yet spermatia work together to grow new “spermatogonial hyphae” into the plant. These trigger even more changes in that one poor rock cress. The yellow on the pseudoflowers fades to green, and cup-like structures called aecia develop. (As if the plant hasn’t had enough already, though at least it is allowed to stop producing the super-sweet nectar at this point.) And what do those aecia do? Make aeciospores, of course. Now you’re getting the hang of this, aren’t you! The aeciospores are still dikaryotic (two haploid nuclei just hanging together, remember?) and are sent off on the wind to find… some grass, which by this time of year is growing! Yup, we’ve finally made it to the primary host for the mustard flower rust!

    Oh, but it’s not over yet… the aeciospores send hyphae into the grass to make uredinia which make urediniospores. Still dikayrotic, still just chilling with each other (are they ever going to get it together?!?!). Over the course of the summer, the urediniospores blow around in the wind and infect more grasses and make more urediniospores. This is the phases where the fungus can really make an impact and spread itself around, until… fall comes and the grasses begin dying back. The change of seasons triggers a change in the uredinia, which turn into telia. (Why not, right? We all grow and change… and if we’re lucky, the other haploid nucleus we’re hanging out with loves us anyway). Guess what the telia make? Teliosporses, of course! Teliospores have nice thick cell walls to get them through the cold, dry winter. Not dissimilar to what sometimes happens when two humans are holed up together for a long time, those two cell nuclei finally join up to make a diploid cell nucleus (aka, sex)! Woo hoo! A new baby fungus is born!

    You thought that was it, didn’t you? Not quite. Because, come spring, the teliospores germinate and grow something called basidia (shall we call them teenage fungi?). Inside the basidia, meiosis occurs. (Had you forgotten that word from high school biology? Me too. Meiosis is when cells divide and also divide their chromosomes. It’s the process that makes sperm and eggs. We’re back to haploid, folks!) Anyway, you know where this is going… the basidia make these haploid basidiospores, and the wind carries the basidiospores to rock cress as it is just emerging in early spring, say in March on the slopes above a creek covered in elk turds just outside of Yellowstone. In case you missed it (because this is ridiculously complicated and therefore ridiculously long), this is where we started the story! The basidiospores grow hyphae in the rock cress that affect its genes and create pseudoflowers that are dotted with spermatogonia…. and the cycle continues.

    It is truly amazing how complicated life is, particularly fungi. Fungi can do amazing (and creepy) things. And I would never have known about any of this if I hadn’t been really excited to see my first spring “wildflower” in my new home!

    If you made it to this point, you must be really interested, so here’s a list of references that helped Mike and I piece together the crazy story of the mustard flower rust:

    Now, to see if we can watch the yellow “flower” turn green… or find the rust on some grasses in the area… a naturalist’s work is never done…

  • Icy Bison

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    Always be yourself. Unless… you can be a bison. Then, always be a bison.

    ~Unknown

    I had hoped to get some classic photos of bison in winter – their breath showing like a small cloud around their heads on a below-freezing morning, their coats covered in ice, and their determination and strength showing in their eyes. But, this was the winter that wasn’t here in Yellowstone so icy bison were not a common sight this year. Instead, this winter in Yellowstone stands out for its lack of consistent, deep snow and mild, above-average temperatures. Though our winter is far from over, even when it snows like it did earlier this week, it has melted away rather quickly and temperatures have not been much below zero these past few months. But there were a few frosty mornings that I spent time with the bison, one of my favorite creatures here in Yellowstone.

    Bison are extremely well-adapted to the bitter cold when it does occur. The have a thick winter coat consisting of two layers – a dense undercoat and a thick, coarse outer layer of guard hairs that helps repel water and wind. The dense coat has close to 20,000 hairs per square inch (that’s about 10X the number on some cattle and 2000x that of a human). This insulation means that snow doesn’t melt on the back of a healthy bison. They are supposedly “comfortable” at temperatures down to -40 degrees F.

    I haven’t seen a lot of bison “snow plowing” this winter (using their massive heads to swing back and forth to uncover dried grasses beneath the snow) since the snow just has not been that deep. We did see some when we went into the interior of the park (where snow is typically much deeper than in the northern range) on a snow coach back in January. Their massive humps are the muscles that power this head swinging behavior that is critical for their winter diet.

    Here are a few photos of these magnificent animals as they survive like generations before them in this winter landscape.

    A bison that had been “snow plowing” at Old Faithful in January (click photos to enlarge)
    A bison wades across the Firehole River at Old Faithful
    A frosty bison on a cold morning in the northern range
    Frosty eye lashes
    Some bison slowly walking across the snowy landscape of Lamar Valley

    And here are a couple of bison videos from this winter…(best viewed full screen)

    –A lone bison bull treks across the frozen landscape of Round Prairie

    This next scene can happen anytime of year but seems a bit more common in winter as bison use the roads for travel instead of having to walk through the deep snows (that usually are here). I came around a curve and was greeted by a large herd of bison running towards me so I stopped, rolled down my window, and enjoyed the scene. A long line of cars was behind them.

    –A winter bison jam…turn your sound up for the full effect

  • Slow Mo

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    Anything worth doing is worth doing slowly.

    ~Mae West

    I’m starting to experiment with the slow motion video feature on my Canon R5. Slow motion video on this camera has no sound which is both a good and bad thing depending on the situation. I’ve taken several videos of a few different species and find that it is interesting to see details of what they are doing that my eye alone sometimes misses. I’ve also discovered it can be a very long video clip if the animal isn’t doing anything particularly noteworthy. So, here are a couple of clips that may fall somewhere in between those two criteria (viedos are best viewed full screen).

    One afternoon I crawled down near the Lamar River as a group of Barrow’s goldeneyes were diving to feed (they primarily eat aquatic invertebrates). They typically stay underwater for less than 30 seconds and this section of the river is fairly shallow so it may even be less here. They moved back and forth across the river as a group until another person came over to the edge of the road near me and the birds slowly moved away.

    –A group of Barrow’s goldeneyes diving for food in the Lamar River

    Their feeding behavior is like a graceful dance with water droplets and the splashes behind them adding to the beauty.

    This next clip was taken along the Old Yellowstone Trail, a dirt road that parallels the main highway into Gardiner on the other side of the river. It is a great place to see pronghorn, elk, deer, and bighorn sheep, especially in winter. Any time I take trash out to the dump I always drive a few extra miles and cross over the river to take this road back to town. You just never know what you might see. On this particular trip, I pulled over to watch several pronghorn feeding on the very short grass out on the flats next to the road. To my surprise, a few of these elegant animals decided to walk towards my truck and start browsing on a row of sagebrush shrubs less than 20 feet from where I was parked. I took some video at the normal rate and their feeding action is quite rapid with many pulls at the shrub in quick succession before pausing to chew their cud. Slowed down, you can see how precise this doe is in pulling the tips of the branches. And then you get that long pause while she chews on it for a bit while keeping a pair of huge wary eyes on this thing huddled in a huge chunk of metal near her dining room.

    .

    –A female pronghorn looking at me with those incredible eyes while she browses on some sagebrush

    Looking forward to filming additional behaviors (hopefully a bit more action-oriented) in slow motion as spring and summer bring new life to the landscape of Yellowstone.

  • Sunday Meander

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    Nature’s beauty is a gift that cultivates appreciation and gratitude.

    ~Louie Schwartzberg

    I had a couple of spinal injections this past week so I was taking it easy this weekend. Melissa and a friend went on a hike for a few hours but I decided to not strain the ol’ back and went for a drive across the northern range. It was a beautiful day (too warm for this time of year, but mostly clear skies). Wolf watchers were busy climbing hills in Lamar Valley to see the Junction Butte wolf pack but I decided to stay closer to the road. I was rewarded with the usual suspects – 5 moose, lots of bison, some elk and mule deer, and plenty of canid action from the other two species of park “dogs”.

    I spent about an hour with the predictable red fox at Pebble Creek. He (I think it is a he, but not sure) makes the rounds most days and checks out the picnic tables at Pebble Creek for scraps dropped by careless humans. He then wanders over to the dumpster just in case. He is a bit too comfortable around humans but has not in my experience crossed the line yet to direct begging (something some other foxes unfortunately have learned in this part of the park).

    Red fox at Pebble Creek (click photos to enlarge)

    I normally don’t like to spend time watching wildlife with a crowd but the fox was so beautiful in the snow I decided to just stand next to the car and watch him for a bit. Once he got away from the picnic tables he was acting more like a fox should and was offering some nice opportunities for photos.

    Standing up on the road looking down at the fox and his track trail. Notice the foot drag mark in the snow as the fox pulls each paw out of the snow going forward.

    It was neat watching the fox trot effortlessly on the snow surface. A couple of people stepped out onto the snow for a closer view and sank a foot or more. Advantage fox.

    Curled up in the snow.

    The fox rotted up a wooded slope and bedded down for a nap. As most dogs do, it had to find just the right spot by occasionally getting up and turning around before plopping back down. This circling behavior probably serves several functions – flattening the space to make it more comfortable; one last check for potential threats (those pesky humans) before laying down, and maybe by creating a tight bed-like bowl in the snow it can help retain body heat. As often happens, the fox did something cool before I positioned the camera on the tripod…it rolled over and accidentally slid about 20 feet down the slope on the snow. It then jumped up, looked around (you didn’t see that , did you?) and climbed back up to its nap spot.

    –Red fox about to take a snooze in the snow

    I left the fox and continued homeward passing through a few bison jams on the way. Near Junction Butte I spotted a woman off in the woods with her phone pointed up the hill. I pulled over and went back as she was headed to her car. That is when I saw the object of her photos – a coyote laying in the snow. The woman drove off leaving me and the coyote alone.

    Coyote taking a break on the snow

    I stayed in the car and watched as it looked around, gave a head scratch or two, and finally got up and stretched. I slipped out of the car to put the camera on the tripod since it was getting late and the light was fading fast.

    The coyote pounced with its paws a couple of times as I was setting up the tripod (naturally, they never wait until I’m ready) without success. It then turned, and to my surprise, headed straight toward me. There was no one else around and I was standing behind the car as the coyote came down to the road and crossed about 40 feet from me giving me one glance as it neared the pavement.

    Coyote glances my way as it is about to cross the road

    Now down in a meadow below the road, the coyote uncovered what looked like a chunk of bone and started chewing on it. After about a minute, it dropped it and wandered over to a boulder and took a seat.

    The coyote surveying its domain from a boulder throne

    About that time a car drove up and a couple of people got out. The coyote looked our way and trotted off. I headed home after enjoying some time with a couple of Yellowstone canids. Watching them do their thing is a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

  • Be Like the Fox

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    In mythic systems from other parts of the world, the fox may guide a young person from one phase of life to another.

    ~Martin Wallen

    One of my favorite animal species to see in winter is the red fox. They are masters of mousing and I have a goal of getting some good photos or videos of one doing that in deep snow. But this winter is not cooperating as we are way below normal snow levels in much of the park. We did have an early snow back at the end of October and we took a road trip down to Hayden Valley right before the roads to the interior closed for the winter season (typically the first of November through some time in April depending on snow levels). Visitation is down that time of year but there were some die-hard wildlife watchers in pursuit of great gray owls and ermine that had been seen in recent days in that region. We also looked for great grays and got lucky the next evening as I posted back in November.

    As we were driving near Mud Volcano, we spotted a red fox out in the sage and grasses of a roadside meadow. It was slowly going along listening and hunting. There was only about 2 to 3 inches of snow on the ground so no classic head dive jumps were in order, but we pulled over to watch anyway.

    Red fox hunting in meadow (click photos to enlarge)

    The fox walked slowly and stopped, head tilting a bit from side to side. It saw or heard something just ahead.

    A leap focused on something in the grass ahead
    The fox splays out on the snow but comes up empty this time

    That leap was a miss. We continued watching as the fox meandered around the meadow. It did catch a small rodent on the next leap but it was in some taller sagebrush so we couldn’t tell what it was for sure.

    This was a successful leap

    We had parked on a side road leading to a picnic area. I was out of the car watching the fox when it disappeared behind a line of trees between me and the meadow. Suddenly the fox appeared close and was walking straight toward us. I crouched and the fox continued on, crossing some deadfall along the drive.

    The fox crossed a downed log right next to the pavement and only about 10 yards from where I sat.

    It turned and walked down the road a bit and then hunkered and deposited some scat in the road (perhaps making some statement about our proximity?). Well, it’s not often you get to look at fresh scat so after the fox trotted away we walked over and, of course, took a photo (don’t worry, we usually don’t have this on the itinerary for guests).

    The fox making a statement

    Field guides describe red fox scat as 3 to 4 inches in length, tubular, and tapered to a distinct point at one or both ends. I”d have to agree.

    It turns out they usually deposit scat at trail intersections or other prominent spots to mark their territory so maybe he just wanted us to know this meadow was his. The fox wandered back into the field and then came back towards the main road walking along a fallen log and pausing to look around.

    Surveying from a vantage point

    After crossing the main road the fox had another successful leap that was hidden from our view by trees. Next thing we know it comes trotting down the main road carrying a rodent.

    Fox trotting past us on the road carrying its prize (photo by Melissa Dowland)

    Then it did something that we felt privileged to witness…it cached this prize in the shallow snow right next to road about 25 yards from us. After dropping the rodent, the fox stuck its nose in the snow in a couple of places and then pushed snow aside, picked up the prey and dropped it in place. It then pushed snow over it with its nose and trotted off down the road.

    The fox burying its prey in the snow

    We debated for a second and then decided to go check it out. We wanted to know what the fox had caught. After looking at the general area where we thought the prey was cached, we started lightly digging in the snow (it was only a few inches deep) and Melissa found it. It looked like a montane vole, probably one of the most abundant rodents in the park and a very important prey item for all sorts of predators from canids to weasels to raptors.

    The buried prey item was a vole

    Voles are active year round and have tunnels beneath the snow (the subnivean zone) where they travel and feed. This year’s unusually shallow snow depths probably puts them at a disadvantage both in terns of risk from predators and extremes of temperature (the normal snow depth has an insulating effect and their subnivean habitat is maintained at a relatively constant 32 degrees). We reburied the vole in the same spot and drove home. The next day we drove back and decided to check and see if the fox had returned for its prize. I have been curious as to how long they might leave a cache and if they generally find all of them. After a little searching we found the vole still buried. I had to wonder if our scent might deter the fox from returning or did it just not come back. We’ll never know.

    I’ve had a couple of other encounters with foxes this winter so here are a few more photos of these small elegant carnivores.

    This fox has been regularly patrolling the picnic site at Pebble Creek. From my encounters with it, it doesn’t seem to be a beggar like some of those closer to Silver Gate, but it routinely stops by the Pebble Creek site to check the picnic tables (yes, soe people eat their lunch here in the snow) and dumpster for scraps.

    On a January trip into the interior via snow coach our group spotted a red fox in Hayden Valley. The first glance was of it doing an impressive leap and head-first dive into the snow after a rodent (most in our coach saw it but I was in the back and missed that). We stopped and got out and watched as the fox continued on in a sea of snow, its fluid form jumping off the white canvas. This is the essence of the fox, a delicate ghost that adds a splash of color and mystery to a beautiful winter scene.

    Our Hayden Valley fox moving across its snowy hillside home

    The fox seemed to ignore us as it moved across the hillside

    Be like the fox…confident in your abilities, resourceful, and adaptable in your surroundings.

  • Eagle Rock

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    Eagles come in all shapes and sizes, but you will recognize them chiefly by their attitudes.

    ~E.F. Schumacher

    We are having a very strange winter here. Yesterday (and this is early February mind you) we had a high of 53 degrees, very spring-like. It had me thinking about our home in North Carolina and the woods and abundant wildlife.on our 14 acres. To add to that, I received our copy of the new field guide to the Moths of Western North America in the mail. It is a beautiful book and I quickly paged through looking for some of our “old friends” from our mothing nights back East. I was disappointed to see that we may only have one slug moth in this region. The slug moths are one of our favorites, at least their caterpillars are. So many bizarre and beautiful larvae like saddlebacks, crown slugs, and spun glass slugs. It made me a bit sad thinking about all those creatures we no longer see on a regular basis.

    But then I thought about the day I had just had. A typical day of doing chores and running errands. It included making the 10-minute run out to the dump/recycle center a few miles out of town. I often drive back along the Old Yellowstone Trail on the opposite side of the river just to see what I might see. Much of this gravel road runs along the boundary of the park and ends up at the Roosevelt Arch in Gardiner. In winter, you typically see groups of Rocky Mountain bighorn sheep and pronghorn antelope grazing in the flats along the road. That’s when I was reminded about what a special place this really is…I was driving past about 50 bighorn sheep and close to 75 pronghorns all within a couple of miles of our house (not to mention the mule deer and elk walking in the streets of town as I left the house).

    As I was reflecting on this amazing landscape we now call home, I saw it – the silhouette of a large bird sitting on a rock on the hill ahead. I thought, no way, an eagle? I had brought my camera in hopes of seeing an eagle along the river as I drove out on the main highway but had come up empty. I had never seen an eagle along this stretch of road as there are no large trees and this road pulls away from the Yellowstone River shortly after you cross the bridge from the main highway. The drove up the hill and, sure enough, it was a bald eagle.

    A bald eagle perched on a rock along the Old Yellowstone Trail (click photos to enlarge)

    When I stopped, the eagle glared at me with those piercing eyes and then turned its head and ignored me satisfied that I wasn’t a threat (I stayed in my truck).

    When the eagle turned its head I could clearly see it was not a mature adult

    Mature bald eagles are widely recognized by their white heads (hence the name, bald) and tails. Males and females look similar though females are larger. (an average of 25% bigger than a male). Younger birds have quite variable plumage. First-year eagles are considered juveniles and have dark brown plumage up to about 1 1/2 years. After that, it can be variable though plumages do tend to follow a similar pattern until they reach full maturity at about 5 1/2 years of age. From 1 1/2 to 3 1/2 years they show blotches of white on their undersides. From 3 1/2 to 4 1/2 years of age they begin to acquire the white head and tail feathers.

    This bird shows the dark eye stripe and dark flecks on the head typical of an immature eagle of about 4 years of age

    The dark patch through the eye and a few white blotches on the breast tell me this bird is about 4 years old. By next year it should have the definitive plumage of an all white head and tail that it will keep for the rest of its life (bald eagles can typically live 20 to 25 years in the wild).

    Though we will miss seeing some of our beloved caterpillars here in this high desert climate, the habitat provides moments of magic if you just look (and get outside, even if you are just taking out the trash). And this year we hope to look more intentionally for the small creatures we share this new world with while still appreciating the abundant and majestic megafauna that surround us.

  • Coyote Chill

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    Coyote is always out there waiting, and Coyote is always hungry.

    ~Tony Hillerman

    Winter is the time of the coyote. Always on the move, always ready to take advantage of any food supply, and more visible to those of us that love to watch these amazing canids. It has been a particularly good coyote time these last few weeks. Here are a few of the most memorable encounters with these mid-sized predators.

    I was on a snow coach trip to the interior recently and we spotted a coyote high on a ridge line in Hayden Valley.

    Coyote in Hayden Valley

    The coach driver stopped so we could watch it. The coyote took a few steps then cocked its head as they do when sensing something in the snow. A slight crouch and I knew what was next so I raised my camera and took this shot through the window of the coach.

    The leap!
    This is the classic mousing jump of coyotes and foxes, especially in winter. This one did make a catch and quickly gobbled its rodent meal as it disappeared over the ridge.

    A few days later I was out along Soda Butte Creek when I spotted a couple of coyotes trotting along the creek bank. A couple soon turned into seven and I drove ahead and positioned myself along a high point near the road where I hoped to see the coyotes still following the creek. This has been an unusual winter out in Lamar Valley area with coyotes often appearing in large groups of 6, 7, and even 8 canids patrolling together. From what I have heard, groups of this size were more common back before the reintroduction of wolves when coyotes were the “top dog” in the park. After wolves became established the ever-adaptable coyotes tended to be in smaller units of 2 to 4 animals since wolves are dominant over the coyotes and will chase and kill them if they can. In talking with a few friends that have been here longer, we aren’t quite sure why we are seeing such large groups again. Perhaps it is just family units moving together until next spring.

    A group of seven coyotes moving through the valley

    The group did come closer as they followed the creek and paused at one point to sniff around, providing me with some nice photos (shot with my 800 mm telephoto and cropped).

    There was something of interest in this spot as a couple of coyotes stopped to sniff around the edge of the creek here.

    The next day I was back out on the northern range hoping to see more wildlife. It was cold with temperatures hovering just above zero. Though it was a somewhat slow day overall for critters, the coyotes did not disappoint. As I was headed home I saw a few cars stopped at a pullout in Little America. I soon spotted the reason – a coyote trotting along slowly near the road. I drove on with the intent of turning back and trying to find a place to park when I saw another coyote about 200 yard down the road from the first, and there was no one watching this one. I pulled off the road and watched from my car. It stopped and stood over a spot sniffing the snow. It then dug up a small carcass. I have no idea if this was something it had cached earlier or just found dead in the snow.

    A coyote standing over a rodent carcass

    The coyote soon started pulling at its find and chewing on it.

    Chewing on what turned out to be a pocket gopher

    –A slow motion clip of the coyote pawing at and chewing on the pocket gopher

    It wasn’t long until another car came by and stopped. Two people got out and started walking my way and the coyote looked up from its meal to make sure all was well. This is why I prefer to stay in my vehicle if possible. Most wildlife in the park seems tolerant of cars going by but the second you step out they become more concerned of that human form. If I do get out, I try to stay near or behind my car or squat down to reduce the human outline.

    The coyote looked up when a couple of other photographers approached on foot.

    The people stopped and the coyote finished its meal with one last gulp. After looking around for a few seconds, it wandered off angling toward the road.

    After finishing its meal, the coyote sniffed the area and then trotted off.

    Now there were three cars watching this coyote as it calmly crossed the road and then walked parallel to us before sitting down. It was close, but not watching us, just scanning out in the distance. It slowly got up and turned away from the road, moving in an irregular path toward a far hill.

    A coyote scans the landscape watching for who knows what – potential threats, companions, food?

    As it paused on top of the ridge, the coyote showed me an iconic predator surveying its majestic winter landscape.

    The coyote in its vast home.

    The next evening as I was driving through the Blacktail Ponds region, four coyotes were making their way between the frozen ponds. One stopped at a small hole in the ice that has puzzled us for some time now. What causes this hole, a small thermal underneath perhaps?

    A coyote checking out the hole in the ice (or perhaps just admiring his reflection).

    This next video clip may be a little tough for some viewers. It was getting late as I was driving home and I paused at a roadside jam of some sort to see what was up. I got lucky and found a parking space and walked down the road toward the scene. I was told a deer had been hit by a car earlier in the day and died just 30 yards off the road. Magpies, ravens, and a single coyote were on the carcass and a golden eagle just flew away when the coyote arrived (I had seen the eagle fly across the road as I approached). Within a couple of minutes another coyote arrived. Then someone up the road hollered, “a wolf is coming right toward you guys”. Not a wolf, but another coyote. I heard people call these wolves three times while I was there, a common mistake visitors make when they see a coyote in the park. Here is a somewhat long video clip of the interactions at the carcass. Notice the way the coyotes communicate with one another in addition to the growl and snarls which cannot be heard in this video.

    –Coyotes squabbling over access to a deer carcass

    As darkness started to settle in I got up and walked back to my car. Coming down the road was yet another small coyote. When I drove around the curve beyond the carcass site another small coyote was trotting down the road in that direction (presumably these last two were juveniles from this year). I stopped and checked the area the next day and there was hardly a sign that the carcass had even been there.

    How amazing their sense of smell must be to zero in on these scarce food sources. It just shows the resourcefulness of these misunderstood animals. Before I wrote this blog I saw a news report of a predator “rodeo” where 80 coyotes were killed in one day in a nearby state. Unfortunately, this is a too common response to coyotes on the landscape. But, these song dogs have been around a long time and revered by many indigenous people, hated by many others, and yet they survive and even thrive. They has even managed to expand their range and spread across the country including to my previous home state of North Carolina. They are a creature that plays an important role in rodent control and are a beautiful addition to our lives if we stop to observe them and appreciate their survival skills. I look forward to spending more time with the “trickster” in the coming months here in Yellowstone.

  • Two Poems for Today

    Posted by

    Melissa Dowland

    Last week, I had the privilege to again lead an Educators of Excellence Institute in Yellowstone. On a sunny afternoon, our group laid on the ground near a hot spring to feel the thumping of steam bubbles collapsing beneath us. As we spent time reflecting on our Yellowstone experience in our journals, these words came to me…

    Will You Join Us?

    Will you lie on the frozen ground
    to feel the heartbeat of the earth?
    Will you stand in the predawn glow
    and listen to the silence?

    Will you revel in the crystalline beauty
    of ice-kissed trees,
    the fairy-light of dusk
    on snowy mountain peaks?

    Will you breathe deep
    of the crisp air,
    and of the sulfur belches
    of the underworld?

    Will you allow yourself to linger in this
    one
    shining
    moment?
    Will you leave a sliver of yourself

    And in that breaking
    forge a tie
    to this place,
    this moment?

    Will you leave a gift of Thanksgiving for the
    wild within, and without?

    Will you join us?


    There have been things weighing heavily on my heart lately. The latest newsletter for our new hometown in Montana lists a $31,000 reward for information regarding a Yellowstone wolf that was illegally shot in December. Her radio collar was found cut off, tossed into a tree in the National Forest adjacent to the park. At the same time, I learned about the death of ICU nurse Alex Pretti in Minneapolis. I read how he loved to spend time in wild places, just like I do. These two tragedies, the poaching of 1478F and the murder of Alex, have become linked in my mind.

    1478, Alex

    You stepped away from the warm fire,
    table cluttered with dirty dishes.
    One drop of red wine on the white tablecloth.

    You walked into the dark, into the forest.
    Dark coat, rubber boots,
    rifle over your shoulder.
    Perhaps just walking off the roast,
    and the smothering company of family?

    She trots across the far hill
    Alone, confident.
    Unaware of the invisible line she crosses.
    Unaware of the danger
    until she senses your aim,
    her intuition as a hunter,
    prey.

    Your shot– straight and true.
    Her yelp– short and sharp.
    Did you feel vindication?
    Was there even a twinge of remorse? Guilt?
    Or just power?

    You don a dark mask,
    wool scratching the lips that
    kissed your daughter goodbye.

    Adrenaline rushes as you and your
    brothers in arms,
    brothers in injustice,
    Roll onto the streets.

    He walks the yellow line,
    Fearful, brave.
    Unaware of the invisible line he crosses.
    Unaware of the danger
    until he is on the ground,
    until the blows land,
    victim.

    The rush, fists pounding;
    holding a man to the ground.
    Sweat beads on wool.
    The rush of hatred screams free
    as you pull your pistol and

    Fire
    again and again and again.
    When the rush recedes, what remains?
    Do you wander these streets in your dreams?

    They both loved the wild–
    A man, a wolf.
    Perhaps, once, in a sacred moment,
    their eyes met.
    Brown.
    Gold.
    A flash of recognition
    as instinct sensed what fate had arranged:
    To meet once in peace,
    and again in death.

    Two poems for today. One, an invitation. The other, an elegy. I hope that through both, our human connection with nature brings you a small moment of peace.

  • Lions!

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking.

    ~Steve Jobs

    It has finally happened – after visiting this incredible landscape for over 40 years, I saw my first mountain lion! Our friend Beth texted us one morning last week that a mountain lion was visible from the road just outside Mammoth up on Mt. Everts. We were both headed to Bozeman that morning but we decided to run up there in the hopes of seeing it. We have just missed them on a few occasions over the years…”you should have been here 10 minutes ago” or “we are waiting on the mountain lion to return to its kill” (as we are headed to Bozeman to catch a flight home). We drove the 15 minutes to an area just east of mammoth and soon saw a line of parked cars and scopes, always a good sign that something is being seen. After getting some directions on where to look, we found the carcass in our scopes. It was an elk carcass on a steep slope about 1.5 miles away near the top of Mt. Everts. There was a lone conifer adjacent to the carcass and bare ground and rocks with scattered snow all around. It was in a vertical ravine and at that hour of the morning, the whole area was in the shade making it difficult to see any detail. Finally, we saw movement to the right of the carcass – the mountain lion was turning its head we were told, but, boy, it was tough to make out.

    Melissa needed to go on to Bozemen to meet her teacher group at the airport but I decided to stay. The plan was for me to text her with reports on the lion so she would know whether to rush to try to get the group back in time to see it. I ended up staying all day. When the sun hit that part of the slope, you could finally clearly see that it was indeed a mountain lion – and she had kittens! People kept stopping by and I shared my scope view with a lot of park staff and other local folks that came by on their lunch break. In conversations with some biologists from the park I learned this was a collared female known as F210. That is how she was spotted at such a long distance – researchers studying her located her with a receiver that picks up signals from her collar. She was born in 2016 and this is her the sixth litter of kittens. This litter of three was believed to have been born back in October. These cougars (mountain lions go by various common names) are part of a population of mountain lions in the Northern Range of Yellowstone that is estimated to number around 40 animals. Their primary prey items are mule deer and elk though they will take smaller prey as well as the occasional mountain goat and bighorn sheep.

    The scene of the mountain lion sightings. Taken with my telephoto lens and yet the area is still tiny. The carcass is next to that isolated single tree above the center of the photo. (click photos to enlarge)

    The carcass and mountain lion are at the base of the lone conifer you can see just above the center of this photo. The sunshine finally gave me a chance to attempt a photo. Pics were taken with an 800mm telephoto and heavily cropped so the quality is not great, but at least you can tell it is a mountain lion.

    The adult mountain lion feeding on the carcass. Look closely and you can see she is a lactating female.

    I also shot some video through Melissa’s Swarovski spotting scope using my iPhone and a Phone Skope adapter. The heat waves were pretty bad at times giving the video a wavy look. Videos are best viewed full screen.

    –In this clip, the female is sitting to the left of the carcass and then slowly walks behind it. Look closely and you can see her research collar.

    I had heard she had two or perhaps three kittens but I did not see them for quite some time. It turns out they were under and in a conifer above the carcass site. They started playing and shaking tree limbs and that was when I spotted them. I only saw two, but later videos by other people confirmed there were three young. The young of small cat species (like house cats and bobcats) are called kittens. Those of larger cats like lions and tigers are called cubs. Apparently, mountain lions are borderline in size so their young can be called either. But I must admit, weighing in at between 75 and 150 pounds, adult mountain lions seem pretty big to me (males are larger than females).

    I finally did see two of the cubs come down to the carcass though it is hard to see the one at the base of the elk in this next photo.

    Two young mountain lions feeding on the elk. One is on top and the other is at the base of the carcass. The young look to be about 1/3 the size of their mother at this point.

    –A video clip showing the two young feeding. The adult female is lying down just to the right of the carcass.

    This final clip has a bit less heat waves so you can clearly see the adult feeding. One young is sitting above the carcass on a log

    –The female feeding on the carcass with one young watching

    This mountain lion family fed on the carcass for a week without leaving it. The fact that it was on such a steep slope probably helped keep other carnivores like wolves away. Wolves and bears can drive a lion off a kill. Normally, mountain lions will cover their kill with nearby vegetation to help hide it from scavengers but there wasn’t much available at that site so she just stayed right there to protect her food supply. I did see her jump up and stare at a raven that flew over a couple of times and she was having none of it…no sharing. When the lions finally did leave, folks reported ravens, magpies and bald and golden eagles visiting the carcass to glean the leftovers.

    Being close to Mammoth (the park headquarters) and visible from the road provided countless visitors (including us) with a chance to see their first mountain lions. What a rare treat for so many people. I look forward to our next sighting and hope that it is perhaps a tad closer.

  • Moosey Monday

    Posted by

    Mike Dunn

    To catch a glimpse of a moose in its natural habitat is to witness a fleeting moment of pure magic, a connection to the wild that stays with you forever.

    ~Douglas Chadwick

    I went out into the park on Monday to refresh my brain and see what I could see. I eventually drove out to Round Prairie, the local moose hot spot and saw two bulls that had already dropped their antlers. Unfortunately, there was a large “moose jam” and so I just drove through. On my way back, the moose were apparently laying down in the willows and could not be seen. I pulled into the now empty pullout and soon met a wildlife photographer using a thermal imaging device which picks up heat signals in the environment. He let me take a look and I saw the shapes of two moose hidden from view in a willow stand. Pretty neat! The price tag on that unit was bout $2000 so i guess I won’t be buying one anytime soon:)

    Continuing on toward Lamar Valley, I spotted three moose out along Soda Butte Creek – and no one else was there! I pulled into the closest gravel pullout and started watching the three bulls (one had dropped its antlers) as they fed on willows along the creek. Cars drove by me and I was surprised no one stopped. There were scattered bison near the trio of moose so I am guessing people just didn’t notice that three of those large dark shapes had really long legs! In what is an uncommon occurrence in Yellowstone, I had these moose to myself for over 20 minutes before some visitors finally saw them and stopped

    Three bull moose along Soda Butte Creek . The lead bull has already dropped his antlers. (click photos to enlarge)

    Here’s a short clip of the moose browsing on willow branches. Videos are best viewed full screen.

    –Moose browsing willow (filmed with a spotting scope and iPhone with adaptor)

    I continued to watch these big guys as they fed and interacted. The one without antlers was larger and would often lay his ears back as the other two would half-heatedly spar with one another. Here is a slow motion clip of one such interaction. These next two clips were filmed with my Canon camera and telephoto.

    –The two antlered bulls would occasionally spar. I couldn’t tell if the antler-less one was aggravated by this or wished he could join in.

    They would also occasionally take off running a short distance and then stop and resume feeding. One bull lagged behind after one running bout and walked away from the willows towards the creek, crossing a large expanse of snow and ice.

    One bull heads to the water

    I drove a short distance down to the next pullout which was closer and where there was already a group of visitors excitedly photographing this incredible scene. The moose slowly ambled to the water’s edge and then paused as if to admire his reflection (the rest of us sure did).

    Moose and reflection

    After taking two long drinks, he slowly made his way back to the willows (leaving many happy photographers on the other aide of the creek).

    –This moose must know he is photo-worthy as he slowly struts back to the willows

    The three moose made one last run and essentially disappeared into a thick stand of willow shrubs. I’m always grateful for these moments in the wild in this winter wonderland.

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