Tiny Brain, Big Memory

Mountain Chickadee, Poecile gambeli, Courtesy US FWS, Anna Weyers Blades, Photographer
Mountain Chickadee, Poecile gambeli
Courtesy US FWS, Anna Weyers Blades, Photographer
Winter is a season when most of us spend more of our time indoors. But wild animals don’t have that option. Not only must they find ways to keep warm all winter, but they have to work harder to find food. That’s why so many songbirds take advantage of the seeds and suet supplied by us humans at our bird feeders. We do the work for them.

Pine Siskin, Spinus pinus, Courtesy US FWS, Courtney Celley, Photographer
Pine Siskin
Spinus pinus
Courtesy US FWS
Courtney Celley, Photographer

Red Breasted Nuthatch Courtesy US FWS Dave Menke, Photographer Red Breasted Nuthatch
Courtesy US FWS
Dave Menke, Photographer

Clark's Nutcracker Courtesy US Fish & Wildlife Service Dave Menke, Photographer Clark’s Nutcracker
Courtesy US Fish & Wildlife Service
Dave Menke, Photographer

Mountain Chickadee, Poecile gambeli, Courtesy Pixabay, BlenderTimer, Contributor Mountain Chickadee, Poecile gambeli
Courtesy Pixabay
BlenderTimer a.k.a.Daniel Roberts, Contributor

Over many years, I’ve learned which birds to expect at the feeders in our backyard. We host finches, sparrows, magpies, and doves year-round. In winter, we also see a lot of Black-capped Chickadees, American Goldfinches, Dark-eyed Juncos, and Pine Siskins. Those are species that spend the warmer months in the forested mountains near our home, then come down for the winter into town, where they know it’s easier to find food.

But other songbirds we only see a few times a year – ones that seem to survive just fine in the winter woods. That got me to wondering: How are they able to do that while others can’t or won’t? One survival strategy is to nibble all winter on food that they stored in the fall. It’s called seed-caching – that’s c-a-c-h-e, like the valley around Logan.

You may have heard of seed-caching by the Clark’s Nutcracker, well-known for its habit of burying the large seeds of limber pine and pinyon pine for later use. But that approach only works if you can remember where you stashed food a few months ago. Clark’s Nutcrackers are in the same family as crows, ravens, and jays – birds renowned for their cleverness, with a larger front part of their brains than other perching birds. What about smaller songbirds with tinier brains? Do they have good memories, too?

For some northern Utah songbirds that don’t rely as much on feeders, the answer seems to be “Yes.” They gather seeds, dried berries, and dead insects in the fall, and stash them under bark or in crevices in tree trunks for later use. These seed-caching birds include the Red-breasted Nuthatch, Juniper Titmouse, and Mountain Chickadee.

You might be wondering: “Wait, there’s two different kinds of chickadee? How are they different?” Well they’re pretty similar. The Mountain Chickadee’s song and call are a bit higher-pitched, and they sport a cute little white “eyebrow” that black-caps don’t have. And despite having a brain slightly larger than a pea, they have great memories.

Recently, some biologists conducted an ingenious experiment. They put radio tags on Mountain Chickadees, then hung out seed feeders equipped with radio frequency readers that would only open to certain individuals. That meant each bird would have to learn for itself which feeders were food sources for them. Then the scientists tracked how often the little critters would find the right feeders, and how long it took them to remember which ones to visit. For most individuals, it didn’t take long at all.

Then the researchers switched things up, changing the radio frequencies so the birds had to re-learn where they could find seeds. It turned out that the birds who learned fastest the first time had the most difficulty adjusting to the change. The scientists think this shows that it’s memory, and not exploratory foraging, that guides their feeding behavior.

Mountain Chickadees can live up to nine years, a long time for such a tiny bird. Having a good long-term memory helps them do that. I think that’s pretty awesome – even if it does keep them from visiting my feeders every winter.

I’m Mark Brunson, and I’m wild about Utah’s endlessly fascinating bird life.

Credits:

Images Mountain Chickadee, Courtesy US FWS, Anna Weyers Blades, Photographer
Red-breasted Nuthatch, & Clark’s Nutcracker, Courtesy US FWS, Dave Menke, Photographer
Pine Siskin, Courtesy US FWS, Courtney Celley, Photographer
Image Mountain Chickadee, Courtesy Pixabay, BlenderTimer a.k.a.Daniel Roberts, Contributor, https://pixabay.com/photos/mountain-chickadee-bird-animal-9971732/
Featured Audio: Courtesy & © Kevin Colver, https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/collections/special-collections
Text: Mark Brunson, https://www.usu.edu/experts/profile/mark-brunson/
Additional Reading: Mark Brunson, https://www.usu.edu/experts/profile/mark-brunson/ & Lyle Bingham, Bridgerland Audubon Society

Additional Reading

Mark Brunson’s archive: https://wildaboututah.org/?s=brunson

Mountain Chickadee. All About Birds, Cornell Lab of Ornithology. https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Mountain_Chickadee/overview

Mountain chickadees have remarkable memories. A new study explains why. Nevada Today, April 24, 2024. https://www.unr.edu/nevada-today/news/2024/chickadee-memory-genetic-tradeoffs

Greene, Jack, Bird Brains,, Wild About Utah, September 6, 2017, https://wildaboututah.org/bird-brains/

Greene, Jack, Clark’s Nutcracker, Wild About Utah, January 7, 2019, https://wildaboututah.org/clarks-nutcracker/

Hutson, Matthew. 2024. The Elephantine Memories of Food-Caching Birds. The New Yorker, Dec. 29, 2024. https://www.newyorker.com/science/elements/the-elephantine-memories-of-food-caching-birds

Where is that bird going with that seed? It’s caching food for later. All About Birds, Cornell Lab of Ornithology, April 13, 2016. https://www.allaboutbirds.org/news/where-is-that-bird-going-with-that-seed-its-caching-food-for-later/

Ye, Yvaine, Goda, Nicholas, Mountain chickadees have remarkable memories. A new study explains why, CU Boulder Today, University of Colorado Boulder, April 17, 2024, https://www.colorado.edu/today/2024/04/17/mountain-chickadees-have-remarkable-memories-new-study-explains-why

Cox, Sophie, The brain science of tiny birds with amazing memories, Duke Research Blog, Duke University, via Phys.org/Science X Network, March 27, 2023, https://phys.org/news/2023-03-brain-science-tiny-birds-amazing.html

Cache Valley Winter Backyard Birds, Bridgerland Audubon Society, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/BAS-ChristmasBirdCount-TallySheetV1.1.pdf

Nature Out Your Front Door

Nature Out Your Front Door, Pavement Ants July 2025, Payson UT Courtesy & Copyright Lyle W. Bingham, Photographer
Pavement Ants
July 2025, Payson UT
Courtesy & Copyright Lyle W. Bingham, Photographer
If you’ve listened to these Wild About Utah segments for a while, you’ll have noticed that we tend to focus on places where humans don’t live. But what we call “nature” can flourish almost anywhere, including the places where people dominate.

I’m an avid runner and walker. And my town has done a lot of street and sidewalk work this year, so I’ve spent a lot of time looking down to make sure I don’t suddenly trip or step in a hole. Earlier this year, I was looking down while walking to my office, and I was amazed by how many ant colonies I was seeing on the sidewalks. Each colony included hundreds of tiny ants, milling around in what looked like random patterns. Some blocks had an ant swarm every 20 to 30 feet.

I’d seen them before, of course, but hadn’t realized just how ubiquitous they are. Being a scientist and therefore endlessly curious, I began to wonder: What are these ants doing when they swarm? And how do they all know to do it at the same time?

Nature Out Your Front Door, Pavement Ants July 2025, Payson UT Courtesy & Copyright Lyle W. Bingham, Photographer
Pavement Ants
July 2025, Payson UT
Courtesy & Copyright Lyle W. Bingham, Photographer
The particular species of ant that I was seeing – and I’m sure most of us have seen them at one time or another – is called the immigrant pavement ant. In some places they’re also called sugar ants, thanks to their nasty habit of sneaking into people’s kitchens to find sweet things to eat. They’re tiny, 2.5 to 4 millimeters long, shorter than a grain of rice. Originally native to Europe, some of them probably stowed away on a ship to America in colonial times. Now they’re widespread across North America.

As I watched closely, I realized that the ants’ movements weren’t entirely random. They would approach another ant, stop for a half second, then move on. That’s because one purpose of swarming is colony expansion. They wander around checking each other out. If an interloper from another colony enters the swarm and is recognized as a stranger, it will be attacked. Sometimes hundreds of ants can die in battles between neighboring colonies.

The other thing that happens when they’re swarming is mating. Some of the ants develop wings and take nuptial flights, when males and queens from different colonies take to the air and mate. They like to do this on clear, warm surfaces, when the days are long and hot sunlight has warmed the soil for a while. If each colony responds to the same environmental cue, it means there is a huge pool of prospective mates, which increases genetic diversity and colony success.

After mating, the males die and the queens, which are about twice as big as the other ants, fly off to start new colonies. Worker ants from nearby colonies will collect and remove the dead ants quickly. This helps prevent predators from being able to locate the colonies, which spend most of their time in nests beneath flat stones or similar hard spaces – such as sidewalks. Within a week after the swarms appear, they’re gone.

Pavement ants can be a nuisance if they get into your pantry. But when they’re swarming safely out on the sidewalk, they’re just a fascinating part of nature – one that most of us can observe without going more than a block or two from home.

I’m Mark Brunson, and I’m wild about Utah’s natural creatures, wherever they’re found.

Credits:

Images Courtesy & Copyright Lyle Bingham, Photographer, Bridgerland Audubon Society
Featured Audio: Courtesy & © Kevin Colver, https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/collections/special-collections and Anderson, Howe and Wakeman
Text: Mark Brunson, https://www.usu.edu/experts/profile/mark-brunson/
Additional Reading: Mark Brunson, https://www.usu.edu/experts/profile/mark-brunson/ & Lyle Bingham, Bridgerland Audubon Society

Additional Reading

Mark Brunson’s archive: https://wildaboututah.org/?s=brunson


Pavement Ants, Hillman Ball Park, Payson UT, After the Sprinklers
Courtesy & Copyright Lyle W. Bingham, Photographer

Tetramorium caespitum – Bugwoodwiki
https://wiki.bugwood.org/Tetramorium_caespitum

Tetramorium caespitum – iNaturalist
https://www.inaturalist.org/guide_taxa/832327

Immigrant Pavement Ant (Tetramorium immigrans) – iNaturalist
https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/569552-Tetramorium-immigrans

Pavement Ant | NC State Extension Publications
https://content.ces.ncsu.edu/pavement-ant

“Pavement ants (Formicidae, Tetramorium immigrans) are northern Utah’s most common pest ant in and around homes and structures. Until recently, the pavement ant’s scientific name was Tetramorium caespitum, but recent genetic work has clarified that our common pest Tetramorium species in the U.S. is from Europe and has been given the name T. immigrans (Wagner et al., 2017; Zhang et al., 2019). Genetic variation among pavement ant populations in the U.S. is low and it is believed that current populations were derived from one or a few closely related colonies from Europe introduced into the northeastern U.S. about 200 years ago (Wagner et al., 2017; Zhang et al., 2019).”
Pavement Ants, Extension, Utah State University (USU), https://extension.usu.edu/planthealth/research/pavement-ants

When the Ants Come Marching In…, IPM Fact Sheet #8, USU Extension, Utah State University, https://extension.usu.edu/planthealth/schoolipm/files/pest-press-fact-sheets/pdf/ants_pestpress.pdf

Pavement Ant, Tetramorium caespitum | USU
https://extension.usu.edu/planthealth/ipm/notes_ag/hemp-pavement-ants

Love nature? There’s an app for that

Painted Schinia, Schinia volupia, Courtesy & Copyright Mark Brunson
Painted Schinia
Schinia volupia
Courtesy & Copyright Mark Brunson
We hear a lot these days how people spend too much time with their electronic devices. The internet is full of advice on how to get kids away from their screens to enjoy nature, and that’s great. But for me, as someone who has always loved natural spaces, I’m finding that a screen can actually enhance my time outdoors.

My iPhone is packed with apps that help me connect to nature. One lets me identify birds by their song. Another recognizes constellations in the night sky. I’ve got several plant identification apps. But my favorite nature app is called iNaturalist. When I see a plant or animal in the wild, I can snap a photo, and the app’s artificial intelligence will help me identify what species I’m seeing. Then I can upload the photo and its GPS coordinates so others can see what I found and where I found it. In doing this, I help scientists learn where species are found and how common there are. And if the AI turns out to be wrong – which does happen – experts who use the app can tell me what they think I really saw.

I’m outdoors a lot, and I use iNaturalist a lot. It’s almost an obsession. But this obsession helps me learn to see nature in new ways. Here’s an example: Earlier this year, my wife and I were walking along a cattle trail near Canyonlands National Park. It was early May, and we were delighted to see wildflowers blooming in the desert. And of course, I took photos as we went. At one point, I happened to see a bright yellow, daisy- shaped flower with a red center. I knew it was a red dome blanketflower, closely related to the bright red and yellow Gaillardia plants that many Utahns grow in their waterwise gardens.

But when I knelt to take a closeup photo, I saw something I hadn’t noticed. Feeding on nectar from some of the flowers were small, brightly colored moths, their wings a deep red with white stripes in a pattern like a woven blanket, their heads a vivid orange. iNaturalist told me I’d found a group of painted schinia moths – a species I’d never encountered or even heard of before.

Intrigued, I wanted to know more. I learned there are at least five species of painted schinia moth in the U.S. Southwest, each of which feeds only on a particular kind of blanketflower. This sort of plant-insect specialization is common. It benefits the plants, because as moths move from flower to flower, they carry pollen with them, and a specialist pollinator won’t bring its pollen load to a species that can’t use it. And it benefits the insects. As they adapt to the unique chemical and physical features of their host plants, they can gather and use food most efficiently. And – as I learned when I had to look closely to even see my painted schinia moths – they can evolve to use camouflage to avoid predators.

Of course, the downside to specialization is that if something bad happens to the host plant, it also endangers their insect specialist. Luckily for the painted schinia moth, blanketflowers are abundant in late spring in the southeast Utah desert. That’s lucky for us humans, too, as we enjoy the brilliant color they bring to red rock country – even more so if we take time to kneel down, snap a photo, and examine them more closely.

I’m Mark Brunson, and I’m Wild About Utah.

Credits:

Images Courtesy & Copyright Mark Brunson, Photographer
Featured Audio: Courtesy & © Kevin Colver, https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/collections/special-collections
Text: Mark Brunson, https://www.usu.edu/experts/profile/mark-brunson/
Additional Reading: Mark Brunson, https://www.usu.edu/experts/profile/mark-brunson/ & Lyle Bingham, Bridgerland Audubon Society

Additional Reading

Mark Brunson’s archive: https://wildaboututah.org/?s=brunson

Loarie, Scott. The surprising power of your nature photos. TED talk, April 2025.
https://www.ted.com/talks/scott_loarie_the_surprising_power_of_your_nature_photos

Southwest Desert Flora. Gaillardia pinnatifida, Red Dome Blanketflower.
https://southwestdesertflora.com/WebsiteFolders/All_Species/Asteraceae/Gaillardia%20pinnatifida,%20Red%20Dome%20Blanketflower.html

Painted Schinia Moth, Schinia volupia, iNaturalist, https://www.inaturalist.org/guide_taxa/1565242
Photos of Painted Schinia Moth Schinia volupia, iNaturalist, https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/230575-Schinia-volupia/browse_photos

A Tropical Flash in the Desert

Collared Lizard near Hovenweep NM
Courtesy US NPS
Jacob W. Frank, Photographer
Collared Lizard near Hovenweep NM
Courtesy US NPS
Jacob W. Frank, Photographer
Not long ago, while walking up a gravel road in Bears Ears National Monument, my eye was distracted by a flash of brilliant, almost neon green against the red rocks and sand. Soon I got another glimpse, just as brilliant, just as green. If you’ve hiked the canyons of southern Utah, you may have already guessed what I was seeing – male Eastern collared lizards scuttling behind rocks to avoid a potential predator: me.

Collared lizards are among the more common reptiles of the arid Southwest, and also one of the more interesting ones. They’re known for their sprinting ability, reaching speeds of 16 mph when they feel threatened, often running solely on their hind legs. They’re also highly territorial – if two males are placed in the same cage, they’ll fight to the death. But what captured my interest on that warm spring morning was their flashy coloration.

More to the point, I was thinking that it didn’t seem to make sense for a desert animal to flaunt flamboyant colors. Most other desert lizards in Utah – whiptail and sagebrush lizards, side-blotched and fence lizards – are content to blend into the scenery. But male collared lizards look more at home in the jungle than in the desert, with blueish-green speckled bodies and tails, and a bright yellow head. Females are green, too, although their colors are more muted and often brownish.

It’s not uncommon for males and females of a species to sport different colors. The scientific term for this is sexual dimorphism. You see it often in birds like songbirds and ducks. Males will flash bright hues – the sublime sky blue of a mountain bluebird, the blazing orange of a Bullock’s oriole, the exuberant red, black, and yellow of a Western tanager – while females of the same species tend to be grayish or brown or dull yellow, with just a hint of the male’s glory.

This makes sense if the main purpose of coloration is camouflage. Female lizards are vulnerable to predators when bearing or caring for young, so there’s a survival advantage to matching their environment. First-year males are often colored much like females – helpful as they learn to fend for themselves. But shouldn’t the adult males want to blend in, too?

It seems male coloration also has to do with babies, but in a different way. A conspicuous male is more likely to find a mate. He’s visible. He stands out. A female lizard can find him when she needs him. Brightness also helps these lizards in another way. Remember how male collared lizards are viciously territorial? Conspicuous, vivid color helps them avoid unexpected confrontations with other males.

Of course, there’s a tradeoff here. If female lizards can easily find a male, so can predators.
Some years ago, scientists took some toy lizards, painted them in collared-lizard colors, set them out on rocks in classic lizard poses, and watched to see what would happen. As we might expect, they found that if a lizard stands out in contrast to its environment, it’s more likely to be attacked by snakes, birds, or rodents. So it’s a good thing that in addition to being fancy dressers, collared lizards are also world-class sprinters.

I’m Mark Brunson, and I’m wild about Utah’s colorful and camouflaged animals.

Credits:

Images Courtesy US NPS, Jacob W. Frank, Photographer, https://www.nps.gov/media/photo/view.htm?id=5B13C294-155D-451F-67F7-7D12491DF54D
Featured Audio: Courtesy & © Kevin Colver, https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/collections/special-collections and Shalayne Smith Needham https://upr.org/
Text: Mark Brunson, https://www.usu.edu/experts/profile/mark-brunson/
Additional Reading: Mark Brunson, https://www.usu.edu/experts/profile/mark-brunson/

Additional Reading

Other pieces by Mark Brunson: https://wildaboututah.org/?s=brunson

Division of Wildlife Resources. Eastern collared lizard (Crotaphytus collaris). Utah species field guide. https://fieldguide.wildlife.utah.gov/?species=crotaphytus%20collaris

Husak, J. F., Macedonia, J. M., Fox, S. F., & Sauceda, R. C. (2006). Predation cost of conspicuous male coloration in collared lizards (Crotaphytus collaris): an experimental test using clay‐covered model lizards. Ethology, 112(6), 572-580. https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/j.1439-0310.2005.01189.x
https://sci-hub.se/https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1439-0310.2005.01189.x

Strand, Holly, The Lizard and His Tail, Wild About Utah, June 11, 2009, https://wildaboututah.org/the-lizard-and-his-tail/