Podcast: Wild About Utah

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Tenacious Beaver

Beaver at Dam, Courtesy Pixabay
Beaver at Dam
Courtesy Pixabay
The most important lessons I can give my daughter are not through me, but instead those found best in the wild. Though she can’t talk, I know she still listens. Though her childhood amnesia is inevitable, I know that neural circuits are still being formed. Those circuits will do her good one day.

Our favorite lesson is in the tenacity of beavers.

This winter, we took one of our favorite hikes through knee-deep postholing snow to one of our favorite beaver dams. The dogs trot ahead, sniff snuffing at the path, darting to the stream that runs alongside our trail and back, and lead us as they have many times before up the trail. When we come to the great beaver dam, one that assuredly took not just years but generations of beavers to build, we stop for a snack and water, and let our daughter sit quizzically in the springtime slush. I explain to her the parts of the beaver’s home: the dam, the lodge, how they store their food. She listens while she smushes snow in her mittens, neural circuits are formed, and we pack up to start the slushy walk back to the car. A good day’s hike and lesson. A Greek proverb is dusted off in my mind, that a society grows great when old men plant trees under whose shade they know they shall never sit. Those beavers are good Greeks, but likely poor hoplites.

Later that spring, we return to the dam, our trail shortened by melted snow. Snow is gone from the trail, but still holding fast in the mountains above. The travel is easier, muddier, but the beaver Platonic Republic justly endures. I explain the parts of the Castorian city-state yet again, and explain what the beavers are doing now as we see fresh aspen fells. They’re collecting good sugars and preparing for their kits. Kallipolis endures, as it has, another year out of dozens of millennia, and even without a cud of pulp in sight. I wonder if beavers have oral traditions?

Time then passes as we all pass through space, and summer buds, blooms, and begins to fade. The cattle have come, grazed, trammeled, and been driven off yet again. We return to Xanadu in the early morning before the sun beats hard. We can get even closer to the dam now that the Forest gates are open, and we prepare for our adventure. My daughter looks around excitedly and drinks water from her cup. The dogs look around excitedly at all the leftover cow pies to investigate. Luckily they’ve dried.

We exit the car and make our short way to the beavers only to discover that tragedy has struck between spring and now. The dam has burst. Like the River Isen, a great work of nature has blown a hole in the waterkeep, and drained the promised pond. The shoreline has receded like a tonsure, the lodge’s secret doors exposed as if by moonlit ithildin, and the water flowing with Newtonian determination towards Great Salt Lake.

It’s shocking at first, seeing this anchor of time heaved asunder, the work of generations of beavers up and smote by spring runoff. All that labor. All those lives well-lived. Perhaps not wasted, but at least now remembered with a sigh. I sigh out as well, and explain this all to my daughter. She listens, pulls on cow-mown grasses, synapses fire, and circuits connect. We complete our hike and eventually go home.

Finally, early this fall we set off for the utopia-that-was once more. Colors have begun to change to golds and crimson. The air is more crisp; the heat more bearable. We saddle up in the toddler backpack, and see what there is to see of the beavers. We arrive to the wonders of hope and joy, and the tenacity of beavers.

The dam it appears is not abandoned. The labor of generations is honored with the restoration of the work. Not in its entirety mind you, for that will again take years and perhaps generations, but the work is underway regardless. Greek thinking again prevails. Whether by purpose or itch it matters not, but slowly the pond is regrowing. The shoreline has risen to swallow back and douse bare earth, and the water is a bit more wine-dark. I excitedly show my daughter, who excitedly is playing with my hat, the work that has happened, and the work yet to do. The beavers will not quit when allowed to do so. They are tenacious little buggers whose teeth grow forever. We take it all in and continue our hike, and eventually go back home. A new proverb pops into my head. A society grows great when we get to work and, figuratively, give a dam.

I’m Patrick Kelly and I’m Wild About Utah.
 
Credits:

Images: Beaver & Dam Image Courtesy Pixabay, Public Domain
Featured Audio: Courtesy & Copyright Friend Weller, Utah Public Radio with and Anderson, Howe, & Wakeman.
Text:    Patrick Kelly, Stokes Nature Center, https://logannature.org
Included Links: Lyle Bingham, Webmaster, WildAboutUtah.org

Additional Reading

Greene, Jack, I’m a Beaver Believer, Wild About Utah, December 19, 2022, https://wildaboututah.org/im-a-beaver-believer/

Bingham, Lyle, Welcoming Rodent Engineers, Wild About Utah, February 7, 2022, https://wildaboututah.org/welcoming-rodent-engineers/

Hellstern, Ron, Leave it to Beaver, Wild About Utah, July 30, 2018, https://wildaboututah.org/leave-it-to-beaver/

Leavitt, Shauna, Beaver–Helping Keep Water on Drying Lands, Wild About Utah, April 17, 2017, https://wildaboututah.org/the-beaver-helping-keep-water-on-drying-lands/

Strand, Holly, Beavers: The Original Army Corps of Engineers, Wild About Utah, April 29, 2010, https://wildaboututah.org/beavers-the-original-army-corps-of-engineers/

Goldfarb, Ben, Eager: The Surprising, Secret Life of Beavers and Why They Matter, Chelsea Green Publishing, March 8, 2019, https://www.amazon.com/Eager-Surprising-Secret-Beavers-Matter/dp/1603589082/ref=asc_df_1603589082/

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Whitebark Pines

Whitebark Pine Courtesy US National Park Service Jen Hooke, Photographer
Whitebark Pine
Courtesy US National Park Service
Jen Hooke, Photographer
Five needle pines- I love them! It was the stately eastern white pine that introduced me to these trees of the five needle clan in my early years in Wisconsin & Michigan. I marveled at their majesty, once the dominant pine of north central and north eastern states, until mostly logged off. Now, about 1% of old growth remains in the US and Canada.

Coming west, I was introduced to other members of the five needle clan- limber pine, whitebark pine, bristlecone pine, and the magnificent western white pine. I’ve found with the exception of the western white pine, the others are difficult to differentiate without examining the cone. The sneaky limber pine can be found at both mid and higher elevations which is a lookalike, sharing the same space as the others, making a fun 3- tree ID game.

It is the whitebark pine that has held my interest more than most for various reasons. First, much like the bristlecone pine, it’s found in high elevations which I’m attracted to for stunning alpine meadows and peak bagging. In Utah that means the Uintahs, high plateaus, and Wasatch mountains, generally found above 10,000 feet.

Secondly, whitebark pine has been struggling from a plethora of assaults, and has been placed on the threatened species list by the US Fish and Wildlife Service. Populations of whitebark pine are declining throughout most of the species range because of high levels of mortality from an exotic fungal pathogen that causes the disease white pine blister rust in five-needle pines, and periodic upsurges of the endemic mountain pine beetle. The absence of fire in some forests has also led to advanced succession of shade-tolerant spruce/fir species with subsequent reductions in whitebark pine. Finally, increased atmospheric warming and associated effects from altered precipitation patterns further threaten to reduce the geographic distribution of the species.

As a keystone species, precipitous declines in whitebark pine have cascading effects throughout the ecosystem primarily because of the subalpine and treeline positions the species occupies. When forest stands succumb to mortality, few if any other species exist to fill the structural and functional roles of whitebark pine. Notably, whitebark pine presence dampens snow melt, stabilizes soils, provides cover and birthing habitat, and its seeds are highly nutritious and consumed by a wide array of vertebrate species. For over thirty years researchers and managers have sought to understand whitebark pine ecology, and to devise and implement procedures to reduce population decline and restore these valuable high-elevation ecosystems.

Last, many of my favorite critters, including us humans, are dependent on this pine. Grizzlies and black bears feast on the cones, as do Clark’s Nutcrackers, Steller’s Jays, Pine Grosbeaks, and a host of small rodents. Many native tribes would harvest the highly nutritional cones, similar to the pinyon pine in food value.

This is Jack Green for Bridgerland Audubon Society, and I’m Wild About Utah and its vanishing Whitebark pines!

Credits:

Picture: Whitebark Pine, Courtesy US National Park Service, Jen Hooke, Photographer
Audio: Courtesy & © Kevin Colver https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/
Text: Jack Greene, Bridgerland Audubon, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/
Additional Reading: Lyle W Bingham, Webmaster, and Jack Greene, Author, Bridgerland Audubon, https://bridgerlandaudubon.org/

Additional Reading:

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

Whitebark Pine, National Park Service, https://www.nps.gov/articles/000/whitebark-pine-klamath-network.htm

Whitebark Pine (Pinus albicaulis), U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, https://www.fws.gov/species/whitebark-pine-pinus-albicaulis

Apodaca, Nicolas, The Future of White Pines in the West, Sustainability Education, University of Utah, March 20, 2019, https://sustainability.utah.edu/the-future-of-white-pines-in-the-west/

Whitebark Pine Ecosystem Foundation, https://whitebarkfound.org/

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Bass, Birds, Buddies, and Boats

Joey, James & Jack Courtesy Joseph Kozlowski & Copyright Jack McLaren, Photographer
Joey, James & Jack
Courtesy Joseph Kozlowski & Copyright Jack McLaren, Photographer

Wilson's Phalarope Courtesy & Copyright Joseph Kozlowski, Photographer
Wilson’s Phalarope
Courtesy & Copyright Joseph Kozlowski, Photographer

Banana Boy James, Courtesy Joseph Kozlowski & Copyright Jack McLaren, Photographer Banana Boy James
Courtesy Joseph Kozlowski & Copyright Jack McLaren, Photographer

I sit on the front swivel seat of a drift boat gliding across the smooth water of Newton Reservoir. The sun begins to send morning rays of brilliance over the Cache Mountains. My only child, a 14-month-old boy named James, excitedly wriggles in my lap. Behind me in the captain’s seat is my long-time buddy, Jack McLaren. Jack and I met in graduate school where he was working on a doctorate in watershed sciences and fish ecology. Jack and I have been friends ever since, and any day fishing with Jack is one I cherish.

Jack tells me the Largemouth Bass are on the other end of the reservoir, in the shallow, weedy water where they feast on any living creature they can find, primarily small Bluegill who nest in that area. Using two oars, Jack begins paddling the boat across the reservoir. James’ eyes are mesmerized by the turbulent water eddies that form around the oars with each stroke, and I peacefully observe the world and wings around me. Western Kingbirds, with their gentle yellow bellies and grey head, play chase games as they dive and duck from one cottonwood tree to another on the water’s edge; Bank Swallows make clicking and clacking noises like pulsing electrical wires from the steep muddy embankment where a healthy colony has formed; and Wilson’s Phalaropes do a mating display where the modestly colored male hovers in the air over the brightly colored female, bobbing up and down for nearly 5 seconds, before gently landing next to her.

We reach the far end of the reservoir and begin fishing. Jack pulls a plastic green frog across the top of the water; I bounce a long, brown rubber worm with a neon tail under the water; and James, well, he grabs each bag of rubber worms from the tackle box and throws them over the side of the boat.

Just as I finally distract James with a Banana, “THWAPPP!!” a splash sounds and a commotion in the water catches my attention. A hungry bass thought frogs were on the menu and was fooled by Jack’s lure. He reels in the bass and James and I look at the beautiful, greenish/yellowish creature with the distinguishable black stripe down the side. James, with a mischievous smile, courageously reaches out his pointer finger and gently runs it along the slimy, scaly body of the fish.

We continue to fish and just take in the beautiful morning when the thought strikes me.

“This little 14-month-old is going to be my new, best buddy for the rest of my life. Observing, respecting, being aware of, and appreciating nature has always been important to me. How do I pass this same kind of love and respect for nature onto my own son, the next generation, as my father and mother did to me?”

To that, I don’t have an answer, but maybe, just maybe, James being mesmerized by the flow of swirling water eddies around oar paddles or him using his delicate finger to bravely stroke the side of a slimy fish may be just the right start.

This is Dr. Joseph Kozlowski, and I am Wild About Utah!

Credits:

Images: Courtesy & Copyright Joseph Kozlowski, Photographer, Used by Permission
Featured Audio: Courtesy & Copyright © Kevin Colver, https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/collections/special-collections/kevin-colver and including contributions from J. Chase and K.W. Baldwin
Text:     Joseph Kozlowski, Edith Bowen Laboratory School, Utah State University https://edithbowen.usu.edu/
Additional Reading Links: Joseph Kozlowski & Lyle Bingham

Additional Reading:

Joseph (Joey) Kozlowski’s pieces on Wild About Utah:

Experiential Education Archives, Wild About Utah https://wildaboututah.org/tag/experiential-education/

Hitchcock, Ed, 7 Tips for Fishing with Kids, Take Me Fishing, the Recreational Boating & Fishing Foundation, Nov 22, 2019, https://www.takemefishing.org/blog/november-2019/7-tips-for-fishing-with-kids/

Community fisheries, Division of Wildlife Resources, Department of Natural Resources, State of Utah, Last Updated: September 12, 2024, https://wildlife.utah.gov/community-fisheries.html

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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/