Morel Hunting

Carrying a willow basket through the woods, she reminds me of Little Red Riding Hood, or of a babushka. Her habit is to walk with her hands clasped behind her back, pausing often to scan the forest floor. She’s mostly an autodidact in the ways of fungi. I never feel unsafe eating the mushrooms she has given the thumbs-up to. Donna is the type of person who doesn’t pretend to knowledge she doesn’t have, which means that when she says something is edible, it is.

Last Friday, she took me to a place in the mountains where morels have abounded in previous years, but the signs indicated we were too early, even though this is late spring. I’m always disappointed when I don’t find mushrooms on a hunt, but she took the opportunity to educate me about finding morels in northern Colorado.

Here, they like to grow in aspen groves among the blooms of golden banner. The plant’s height (16-32” stems) and the way it grows in large clumps will help with identification, along with the bold yellow color of the flowers. If you’ve grown peas in your garden, you’ll probably recognize the shape of the flowers, because this plant is also in the pea family. Many other factors influence morel growth and can guide you to areas where they grow, but now I know these two natural indicators, both easy to see and easy to remember. 

Los Angeles

Next spring, we’re moving to Los Angeles for four months. I immediately thought about putting my blog on hiatus, because, except for pigeons, I couldn’t imagine urban nature in Los Angeles. But, as the city’s perimeter continues to expand and obliterate the places where animals roam, the wildlife that is present becomes even more obvious; the wildlife-human interface becomes stronger as humans encroach on habitat. A bobcat peered through my sister-in-law’s sliding glass door. A mountain lion crashed through a neighbor’s living room window before bouncing out another one. A mountain lion studied my friends while they picnicked on a cemetery lawn. I’ve watched a hummingbird sit on a bush in my brother’s yard for longer than I was willing to watch. When we lived in South Pasadena, which is in the outer ring of the city proper, flocking parakeets enchanted us as they perched on the tree in front of our balcony. Coyotes reputedly understand traffic patterns on freeways and cross multiple lanes safely. Instead of putting my writing to rest, I’m going to look on this as a challenge and an opportunity.

American Goldfinches

They call “Po-ta-to-chip,” but they eat far more nutritiously. I was delighted to identify American Goldfinches at my birdfeeder after a winter of House Finches and Black-capped Chickadees. This past weekend I saw a vibrant yellow male wearing his small black cap and showing white markings on his black wings. Goldfinches are common birds, but they provide a new and brilliant spot of color in our greening Maple tree. One intriguing fact about them is that they are vegetarian, only accidentally feeding on the random insect. They rely on sunflower and thistle seeds for food, and use thistledown to build their nests. Because they prefer thistle for seed and for nest construction, they breed later than other songbirds, when the plant material becomes available. An interesting result of their vegetarianism is that when Brown-headed Cowbirds lay eggs in their nest, the Cowbird nestlings survive only a few days, because the Goldfinch diet has insufficient protein to support them. I’m able to enjoy the Goldfinches for only a short time before the more aggressive House Finches flutter around and chase them off, but they return, both male and female, with more frequency. I expect them to disappear when they go in search of thistles. Next year I'll try to have some native thistle for them to use.

This and That

Temperatures are rising. Next week we’re anticipating days in the 80s, which raises the question, how do birds beat the heat? Osprey build their nests on open platforms that are exposed to all elements. And the Bald Eagles I watch are nesting in a tree that hasn’t yet leafed out to provide shade. These birds can’t just abandon their nests to change locales. Staying in the shade or bathing in a birdbath isn’t an option for them like it is for more mobile species. What options do the eagles and Osprey have? They can pant, which is technically guttural fluttering. They can turn their light colored feathers toward the sun to reflect heat. And, they can droop their wings over their offspring to cover them from the harsh Colorado sunshine.

Otherwise, it’s been a this and a that week, although not a boring one. I saw a Northern Harrier, or more descriptively a Marsh Hawk, with its characteristic white rump patch, as it combed the marshes in search of small rodents. I saw a coyote loping across the adjoining field, perhaps full on a meal of Northern Harrier eggs. While running, my husband and I espied an Osprey catching a fish in a river running narrowly through Cottonwood trees and marveled at the huge bird’s maneuverability. Today, I listened as a squirrel scolded me through my screen door from its perch on a Maple tree. And, every time I leave my house, I curse the dandelions while acknowledging that they provide early food for honeybees.

On Bullfrog Pond

I drive to the natural area one summer morning and find seven police cars blocking the entrance. I return home and send a message to the woman heading up my citizen-science project, studying bullfrogs. Two days later she responds about an attempted murder that “probably won’t affect you.” She signs her email with a smiley face.

A friend married to a police officer tells me the area is notorious for daytime rapes. I go alone in the morning several times a week. I invite excited friends to go with me. I recruit my hapless husband. Anything to avoid being alone. The only time I encounter a ranger patrolling he asks me with suspicion what I’m doing.

A man wandering into the brush surrounding the pond is close enough for me to see the needle punctures and scarred veins on his legs. He disappears, and then, after a few minutes, reappears. Maybe he’s clean, but the random cars idling in the parking lot in the late evening along with the area’s reputation make me suspicious of drug activity.

The weeds that grow up to my chin and trigger my hay fever and the trash people throw into the pond in increasing amounts are irritations compared to these encounters, but still bothersome.

Twenty or thirty volunteers participated in the training, but all summer I see only three other names on the check-in sheet and these names rarely show up; one of these individuals signs in only once. Could the lack of enthusiasm be because the natural area is creepy if not downright scary?

All last summer, I scribbled notes and filled in data sheets. I mistook algae bloom for eggs. I conscientiously tried to fulfill what soon became the Sisyphean task of counting the rapidly proliferating frogs. Five sit on a log, the next night seven, the next nineteen. Soon I cannot count them. I begin to understand why frogs were a Biblical plague and what it would mean to have the Nile “teem with frogs” that appeared even in the kneading troughs. They had to be bullfrogs.

The study I participated in required charting the ascendance of bullfrogs, an invasive species in northeastern Colorado that competes with native species. One story is that the frogs were accidentally introduced in the early 1900s while an agency was stocking trout. Another story is that the Colorado Department of Wildlife along with commercial meat producers intentionally introduced them as a sport species to be hunted. With a fishing license, giggers may cull an unlimited number.

Although adults may fondly remember childhood experiences catching them in ditches and ponds, bullfrogs are a problem in Colorado. They spread diseases to native frogs that they themselves are immune to, and as their population rises, the native species decline. Bullfrogs, which can measure 3 to 6 inches in the body, with their legs adding another 7 to 10 inches, also eat the eggs and tadpoles of other frog species in addition to devouring the adults, which are much smaller than the bullfrogs.

What keeps me going are the water snakes, the deer, the giant turtle, the foxes hunting grasshoppers in a neighboring field, and the leopard frogs whose call sounds like someone chafing a rubber balloon. The project is rewarding in these unexpected ways, but I am ready to end my commitment as soon as possible.