Yesterday (May 8th), while out in the Rock Creek valley, I found my first of this season's glacier lilies and spring beauties. I ate one of the latter and brought two home for Monica's dinner. (She eats twice as much as I do.)
The recent snow flattened the crocuses that were blooming before it arrived, but a new wave of purple is certain to rise up and be counted. (It's hard to keep a good crocus down!)
Your recent thought that prairie crocuses in the headwaters of the Crowsnest River valley appear to be more purple than those in the Edmonton area is likely true, but I'm certain that I tend to photograph purple-trending crocuses more than I do those that are pale, thus giving you a distorted view of the full-spectrum color continuum. (Maybe Peter A., copied, will weigh-in on the potential for there to be north-to-south and/or west-to-east variability in the color spectrum of crocuses. My thought/guess: the more easterly—prairie dwelling—crocuses are paler in color than their western counterparts.)
Other current bloomers here on the eastern flanks of the Livingstone Range include the following: moss phlox, cushion cinquefoil, shooting star, prairie parsley and yellow bells. No doubt additional species are in bloom to the near south, i.e., along the Crowsnest River valley.
The season's first at-our-house hummer (a male rufous) was spotted yesterday afternoon. Swainson's hawks also arrived recently in the Rock Creek valley. Almost immediately, there was a spectacular hawk war in the sky over our home. The combatants: a pair of red-tailed hawks and a pair of Swainson's. The latter are less common on this landscape, while no less than four pairs of red-tailed hawks traditionally nest within 1.5 km of our doorstep.
While out on the landscape yesterday afternoon, I collected more bear hair. It's likely from a grizzly I tracked—and then lost—in mud as it traversed (west to east) the Rock Creek valley prior to last weekend's snow storm.
My recent tracking of grizzlies along the eastern flanks of the Livingstone Range has proved to be phenomenally interesting, and I've gained real insights. Amid the knowns there are a wealth of unknowns. A full spectrum analysis reveals this: The grizzlies I've trailed have proved that, while they leave tracks, the trackways fail to coalesce into a defining and revealing picture. The bears appear to be everywhere, and nowhere. They present an enigma best defined by tangles of downed timber, dense thickets of wolf-willow and a maze of lost trails.
A cow moose on our doorstep appears to have just terminated her relationship with her male calf of '13, and is likely to soon reveal her 2014 contribution to the population. Also seen within the last day: a Pacific wren … or was it a winter wren? Who knows? Life was a lot simpler when the two species were one. At any rate, the sighted bird was the first Pacific/winter wren I've seen here on the eastern flanks of the Livingstone in several years. (The little wren didn't provide me with its name tag, nor its DNA, so I'll leave it to Peter S., and/or Cyndi S. copied, to dive in here as either might wish.)
One additional little observation from yesterday: While looking at mature aspens within what would appear to be the same clone, I noticed that some tree trunks were slightly green while others, right next to them, were what might be called "winter white." I speculated that trees with more greenish bark might be more seasonally advanced and/or healthy, but could detect no visual confirmation of this via the trees' fattening buds, nor with variations in the emergence of catkins. Any comments?
I was just about to send this message your way when it was interrupted by vocal sandhill cranes. I raced out the door in time to see the birds—a pair—as they, flying north, flew up the valley. They appeared to be landing as they, at treetop height, went out of sight.
The best,
David McIntyre
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