American Pika

Pika, Courtesy Pixabay, Makieni77 Contributor
American Pika
Courtesy Pixabay, Makieni77 Contributor
As I hike the high country, there is a non-bird call that always brightens my way. A mini rabbit, or rock rabbit in Jack vernacular, the pika, has been declared North America’s cutest mammal. I won’t argue with this declaration, unless it’s compared to my grandkids.

On a scramble up two gnarly peaks above Alta Ski Resort a few weeks ago, my spirits went sky high with an abundance of pika busily gathering hay for their winter larder. Their Ehhhhh! Notes surrounded us, tiny furry forms darting in and out of boulder fields while we made our way to the summits.

This was especially heartening given the warming trends, which push these little spirits beyond their limits of heat tolerance in too many locations. Pikas have disappeared from more than one-third of their previously known habitat in Oregon and Nevada. Despite this, the American Pika has not been listed under the Endangered Species Act. The pika can overheat and die within 6 hours when exposed to temperatures as mild as 78 degrees Fahrenheit.

American Pikas are famously vocal. They chirp, sing, and scream in an effort to protect their territory. They use their signature call to alert others in the colony of an approaching predator, to establish boundaries, and in some cases, to attract mates.

Pikas spend a great deal of time gathering vegetation for winter which they cure on rocks to prevent molding, then store their piles under rocks for safekeeping, occasionally moving them so they don't get rained on. Haystacks, as they're called, weigh a whopping 61 pounds on average. The timing of haying seems to correlate to the amount of precipitation from the previous winter. They appear to assess the nutritional value of available food and harvest accordingly. Pikas select plants that have the higher caloric, protein, lipid, and water content. They also enjoy their fecal pellets, which have more energy value than stored plant food, by consuming them directly or store for a later sweet treat.
Cedar Breaks National monument in southern Utah has adopted the pika as its token mammal. You can get your own stuffy who has a remarkable resemblance to the real deal. Your donation will help the Monument with its field research on the pika and other park critters.

Considering pika are mostly found in alpine and subalpine environments with cool temperatures and deep snow, I was shocked to find them occurring at Craters of the Moon National Monument in Idaho averaging 6000’ elevation. Summer temperatures at the Monument can soar to 170 degrees on the black rock surface, which would fry a pica in short order. Yet, here they are, finding relief in lava tubes and deep crevasses. Unlike their diurnal alpine cousins, they are primarily crepuscular- active early morning- late evening.

The American pika can be found throughout the mountains of western North America, from Canada to New Mexico. Of the 30 global species, only two inhabit North America, which includes the collared pika found in Alaska and Canada.

Jack Greene for Bridgerland Audubon Society, and I’m wild about Utah and its rock rabbits!

Credits:
Image: Courtesy Pixabay, https://pixabay.com/photos/pika-animal-wildlife-nature-cute-5326942/
Audio: Courtesy & ©
Text: Jack Greene, Bridgerland Audubon, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/
Additional Reading: Lyle W Bingham, Webmaster, Bridgerland Audubon, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/

Additional Reading:

Jack Greene’s Postings on Wild About Utah, https://wildaboututah.org/author/jack/

Cane, Jim, Voice: Dick Hurren, Pikas, Our First Haymakers Wild About Utah, October 28, 2008, https://wildaboututah.org/pikas-our-first-haymakers/

Patent, Dorothy Hinshaw, Pika Country: Climate Change at the Top of the World, September 18, 2020, https://www.amazon.com/Pika-Country-Climate-Change-World/dp/1970039027

Plumb, Sally, A Pika’s Tail, May 1, 2012, https://www.amazon.com/Pikas-Tail-Sally-Plumb/dp/0931895251

American Pika, Utah Species, Field Guide, Utah Division of Wildlife Resources, Department of Natural Resources, State of Utah, https://fieldguide.wildlife.utah.gov/?species=ochotona%20princeps

American Pika, Animal Diversity Web, https://animaldiversity.org/accounts/Ochotona_princeps/

Naomi Peak

Climbing Mt Naomi, Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
Climbing Mt Naomi
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
Nature Journaling, Mt Naomi Hike, Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer
Nature Journaling
Mt Naomi Hike
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

Nature Journal Entries After Climbing Mt Naomi, Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer Nature Journal Entries After Climbing Mt Naomi
Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell, Photographer

One September day when I was a fifth grader, my dad pulled me out of school to climb the Pfeifferhorn, an 11,000 foot peak in the Wasatch Range. That was the most meaningful and defining day of my elementary school experience.

Years later, when I first arrived in Logan, my younger sister Heather and I climbed Naomi Peak the day before our USU classes started. We made it an annual habit. At just under 10,000 feet elevation, Naomi Peak is the highest point in the Bear River Mountains.

Fast forward forty years from that day on the Pfeifferhorn and I’ve made a career of taking students out of class and into the mountains. Outdoor school programs are synonymous with science, but you can justify any destination with the language arts curriculum by having students write for authentic purposes and read meaningful texts.

When I taught at Mount Logan Middle School, we offered a literacy-based summer school program for incoming sixth graders. Part of that two-week experience was an overnight backing trip up to High Creek Lake. The next day we would climb Naomi Peak, then pack down the trail to Tony Grove. It is a grueling journey. We did it with student groups two to four times each summer for more than 15 years. Our strategy was simple, walk until our students were tired, then sit down, eat snacks, create word lists, and read and discuss a chapter of the book we were reading together. When students began to fidget, we’d hit the trail again. We repeated the pattern for eight hours, or however long it took to reach our destination. We wove science, math, and social studies concepts into the learning, but our main curriculum focus was literacy.

Four years ago, we decided to carry on these traditions with our sixth graders at Edith Bowen Laboratory School where I work, facilitating outdoor experiential learning opportunities for students. The second week of school each year we take four separate groups of students from Mr. Baggaley’s and Mrs. Jenkins’ classes to Naomi Peak to start off the school year. The round trip is just over 6 miles and it takes us 6 hours with our learning stops.

When we reach the summit, we have students pull out their field journals and use their word lists from the trail to create vivid descriptions of their journey. This is the best classroom to teach writing—where students can write with purpose about real emotions and experience. Writing forces students to slow down, to be still, and to be fully present with the landscape and with their thoughts. It allows them to construct meaning.

One student wrote, “I kept doubting myself, asking if I should turn back—my thighs aching, my feet sore, my stomach hungry. Every doubt was a new reason to quit, making me question if it is worth it. But I made it.”

Students huff and puff and we talk about the importance of pacing and controlling our breathing. We focus on being efficient, not fast. Students make new friends. They build confidence and they have fun along the way—even if they don’t want to admit it. One student wrote, “It was meh.”

As an educator I’m accountable to the state to connect learning to curriculum standards—I take that seriously. Outdoor programs give purpose to learning—making the state curriculum a means rather than an end. But I’m also accountable to these little humans to bring joy to the learning process, to nurture their curiosity, and give them a sense of belonging.

I do wonder what these kids will remember about Naomi Peak. I wonder if they will ever come back in the years ahead. Will they remember the adversity tree we stopped to talk about? The steep inclines? How tired they were? Or will they just remember the euphoria of standing on the summit while a cool breeze blows all their cares far away into Wyoming?

A student shared her journal entry with me on the summit: “I have never been so proud of myself and my mental self. The view is unreal. I am so lucky and happy, but I wish my mom was here because she pushed me to go. I’m so lucky to have my friend. She helped me and I helped her. I can live life accomplished. I am calm and I am free.” Underlined twice, in giant letters, she finished her entry: “I am amazing!”

I am Eric Newell and I am Wild About Utah.

Credits:
Images: Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell
Featured Audio: Courtesy & Copyright Eric Newell
Text: Eric Newell, Edith Bowen Laboratory School, Utah State University
Additional Reading: Eric Newell & Lyle Bingham, Bridgerland Audubon

Additional Reading

Wild About Utah Pieces by Eric Newell

Morgan, Susan K, Geologic Tours of Northern Utah, 1992, Found on website hosted by Utah Geological Survey, Department of Natural Resources, State of Utah, https://ugspub.nr.utah.gov/publications/misc_pubs/mp-92-1.pdf

Mt Naomi Wilderness Map, Wilderness Connect, University of Montana, https://umontana.maps.arcgis.com/apps/webappviewer/index.html?id=a415bca07f0a4bee9f0e894b0db5c3b6&find=Mount%20Naomi%20Wilderness

Cuckoo Bees

Cuckoo bees: Indiscriminate Cuckoo bee Courtesy & © Mark Brunson, Photographer
Indiscriminate Cuckoo Bee
Courtesy & © Mark Brunson, Photographer

Indiscriminate Cuckoo bee Courtesy & © Mark Brunson, PhotographerIndiscriminate Cuckoo Bee
Courtesy & © Mark Brunson, Photographer

I’d like to tell you a crime story. At least, it would be a crime story if told from a human perspective. But is it still a crime story if it’s about the natural world? I’ll tell it and then let you decide for yourself.

First let me set the stage: Not long ago I was hiking in Northern Utah’s Bear River Range. It was the height of wildflower season, and I was enjoying the colorful variety of blossoms along the trail. I stopped to admire a tall, showy plant with dozens of purplish-green blossoms: Frasera speciosa, commonly known as monument plant or green gentian. It’s often seen near the top of Logan Canyon, but what struck me about this particular monument plant was that it was full of bumble bees.

I knew that a Utah-based conservation science organization, Sageland Collaborative, is asking community volunteers to help them measure bumble bee diversity in the state, so I took out my phone and snapped a few photos. Later I uploaded the best photos into an app called iNaturalist so they’d end up in the Utah Pollinator Pursuit database maintained by the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources with Sageland’s help. Then I waited to learn what species of bumble bee I’d seen. The answer came back: indiscriminate cuckoo bumble bee. I thought: What an unusual name. I needed to know more.

It turns out “indiscriminate” simply means that, unlike many native bees that are particular about what they eat, this species doesn’t much care where it gets its nectar. As for “cuckoo”? Like the birds they’re named after, these bumble bees are thieves.

Or to say it more scientifically: these bumble bees are kleptoparasites. Parasites – animals that take resources they need from other species to the detriment of those species – and “klepto,” as in stealing. Like cuckoos or cowbirds, they lay their eggs in the nests of other bumble bee species, letting the workers from the host species do the work of raising them.

Here’s where our crime story gets even more sinister. When a cuckoo bumble bee queen finds a suitable nest to rob – one with a good-sized group of workers to raise the bee larvae, but not so many workers that they can easily protect their queen – she kills the host queen and becomes part of the colony, laying her alien eggs for the host workers to feed.

Cuckoo bumble bees don’t need their own workers, so they’re less often seen on wildflowers. In fact, there’s a good chance that some of the other bumble bees on my monument plant – the ones I didn’t get a picture of – were members of the host species. They also don’t need to take pollen back to a nest of their own, so they don’t have those “pollen baskets” we often see on the hind legs of female bumble bees.

But they do move pollen from flower to flower when it sticks to their bodies as they feed. In other words, they do play a role in sustaining the wildflowers we enjoy every summer. So is this really a crime story? Or is it just another example of the amazing diversity of behaviors found in nature? While you’re deciding about that for yourselves, I hope you get a chance to enjoy watching Utah’s various kinds of bumble bees as they do their all-important work.

I’m Mark Brunson, and I’m wild about Utah’s native bees.

Credits:

Images Courtesy & Copyright Mark Brunson, Photographer
Featured Audio: Courtesy & © Kevin Colver, https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/collections/special-collections and J. Chase and K.W. Baldwin. https://upr.org/
Text: Mark Brunson, https://www.usu.edu/experts/profile/mark-brunson/
Additional Reading: Lyle Bingham, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/

Additional Reading

Wild About Utah pieces authored by Mark Brunson

Sheffield, Cory S., Cuckoo bees, Epeoloides pilosula, The Xerces Society, https://www.xerces.org/endangered-species/species-profiles/at-risk-bees/cuckoo-bees

Smale, Parker, Understanding cuckoo bumble bees: terrors or treasures?, Wildlife Preservation Canada, February 29, 2024, https://wildlifepreservation.ca/blog/understanding-cuckoo-bumble-bees-terrors-or-treasures/

Barth, Amanda, The Unique Lives of Cuckoo Bees, Sageland Collaborative, July 25, 2024, https://sagelandcollaborative.org/blog/2024/7/25/the-unique-lives-of-cuckoo-bees

I Ate A Bug

Bugfest Poster, Utah Museum of Natural History (UMNH), Courtesy Mary Heers
Bugfest Poster
Utah Museum of Natural History (UMNH)
Photo Courtesy Mary Heers

UMNH I ate a BUG button Courtesy Mary Heers UMNH I ate a BUG button
Courtesy Mary Heers

Never one to say no to an adventure, this month I found myself sitting in the front row at the Bug Bar at the Natural History Museum in Salt Lake. I was waiting for the Bug Bar to open and serve up some insects.

This was the first day of the museum’s annual Bug Festival, and the lobby was full of interesting displays and presenters. But the one that intrigued me the most was the one that suggested we should be bringing insects into our kitchens.

Soon Megan Bartley, an anthropologist and professional chef, walked onto the stage along with the museum director. She began by telling us North America and Europe were the only two places on earth where people did not routinely eat insects.

After all, she said, insects are high in protein, have no carbs, no fat and are gluten free. Furthermore, they can be raised with a lot less water than other foods, and do not create greenhouse gases.

With all this going for them, Megan was here to prove that insects can also be very tasty.

“Are you ready to chow down?” the museum director shouted.

“Yes,” we shouted back. There was no turning back now.

First up on the menu was Spicy Giant Water Bug Pasta. Small samples were handed out and I glanced cautiously into the paper cup. I recognized bowtie pasta, and a little cilantro, carrots and onions, No sign of a water bug. I ate my forkful, and it was delicious. Megan told us the water bugs had been ground up and hidden in the imported Thai chili paste. It was the water bugs that gave the pasta a bit of a musky flavor.

We moved on to Raspberry Ant Pastries. Here, the ants weren’t ground up, but more or less hidden in the raspberry jam. Megan told us it was the ants that gave the pastry its citrus kick.

Then it was time for the ‘Apple Slaw with Candied Crickets.’ The crickets had been toasted in melted butter, sprinkled with sugar and a pinch of salt, and then tossed into an apple and cabbage slaw. There was a slightly unnerving crunch when I bit into this sample, but I had to admit it too was delicious.

The final sample was Grasshopper Tacos. The dehydrated grasshoppers had been sauteed in olive oil with garlic, onions and chipotle peppers. They were served on a dollop of guacamole. A quick look and I could clearly see the grasshopper. But by then I was ready to go for it. It was predictably crunchy – and also delicious.

Megan had proved her point that eating insects could be very tasty. More importantly, she got us thinking that it was time to consider this sustainable source of protein that can help curb food insecurity in our rapidly growing world.

Megan wrapped up with a caution about eating the insects that live around our homes. There’s no telling what these insects have been eating. Better to stick with the ones farmed in controlled environments.

I whipped out my phone and ordered some black ants and some toasted crickets online.

Then I pinned on one of the museum’s “I Ate a Bug” buttons and proudly wore it home.

This is Mary Heers and I’m Wild About Utah

Credits:

Images Courtesy & Copyright Mary Heers, Photographer
Featured Audio: Courtesy & Copyright © Friend Weller, Utah Public Radio upr.org & Cook Laboratories https://folklife.si.edu/archives-and-resources/cook-labs-records
Text: Mary Heers, https://cca.usu.edu/files/awards/art-and-mary-heers-citation.pdf
Additional Reading: Lyle Bingham, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/

Additional Reading

Wild About Utah, Mary Heers’ Postings

Natural History Museum of Utah, Rio Tinto Center, University of Utah, https://nhmu.utah.edu/

Bugfest, Natural History Museum of Utah, Rio Tinto Center, University of Utah, https://nhmu.utah.edu/programs/bugfest

Edible Insects, Entosense, Inc, https://www.edibleinsects.com/