Wild About Utah Archives - Page 62 of 221

October 25, 2021March 4, 2026

Brushes

Paintbrush (Castilleja) Courtesy and Copyright © by Shannon Rhodes, photographer — Paintbrush (Castilleja)
Courtesy and Copyright © by Shannon Rhodes, photographer

Of all the lovely wildflowers to enjoy in Utah, indian paintbrush has to top my list. The nickname “prairie fire” is an accurate one, highlighting the variety of colors we find: reds, oranges, yellows, pinks, purples, and sometimes a mixture of two. In Tomie dePaola’s children’s picture book “The Legend of the Indian Paintbrush,” Little Gopher discovers “brushes filled with paint, each one a color of the sunset.” The legend is a flashy tale celebrating this member of the figwort family and stories captured in rock art. Of course, our petroglyphs are fascinating, but I like to imagine how the pictographs adorning many of Utah’s “learning rock” sandstone walls may have been painted with brushes, fingers, and other tools many centuries ago.

Often, when we see indian paintbrush, whether we’re in Utah’s deserts up in elevation through subalpine meadows, we also see sagebrush. They are both native to Utah. In fact, some species of indian paintbrush are root-parasites for sagebrush, intertwining roots to access water and nutrients because they lack small hairs on their own.

Rabbitbrush (Chrysothamnus nauseosus) Courtesy and Copyright © by Shannon Rhodes, photographer — Rabbitbrush (Chrysothamnus nauseosus)
Courtesy and Copyright © by Shannon Rhodes, photographer

The Utah State University fight song captures the love we have for the spots in Utah where sagebrush grows. To celebrate Aggie homecoming, my first grade class went out this week to explore describing adjectives of sagebrush compared to those for rabbitbrush, another brush native in Utah. One student wrote that rabbitbrush smells like strawberries and is bushy yellow. Another thought that it looks like a banana, smells sweet, and likes bees and rocks. Alternately, a student wrote that sagebrush is minty, soft, and “smells horrible.” We learned to recognize the sagebrush leaf three-toothed tridents and the magical way rubbing the leaves on paper both releases and traps that distinctive fragrance.

Mae Timbimboo Parry, once a recordkeeper of the Northwestern Band of the Shoshone, sketched how to identify sagebrush in much the same way. In his appendix of “The Bear River Massacre: A Shoshone History,” Darren Parry shares his grandmother’s handwritten field notes about sagebrush, indicating its use in tea and purifying ceremonies. I was surprised at first that she did not include indian paintbrush in the list of plants until I realized that willow, wildrose, sego lily, and sunflower all had practical uses beyond their beauty. Some have said that the sagebrush is the backbone of the West, and I would add that indian paintbrush adds a splash of color.

Sagebrush (Artemisia tridentata) Courtesy and Copyright © by Shannon Rhodes, photographer — Sagebrush (Artemisia tridentata)
Courtesy and Copyright © by Shannon Rhodes, photographer

Along with horsebrush, buckbrush, blackbrush, bitterbrush which is also known as antelopebrush, and rabbitbrush, indian paintbrush and sagebrush tell a Utah story as distinctive as that portrayed in the brushstrokes of the pictographs of this land.

I’m Shannon Rhodes, and I’m wild about Utah.

Credits:
Images: Courtesy & Copyright © Shannon Rhodes, Photographer
Audio: Courtesy & © Kevin Colver https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/
Text: Shannon Rhodes, Edith Bowen Laboratory School, Utah State University https://edithbowen.usu.edu/
Additional Reading Links: Shannon Rhodes

Additional Reading:

Alpine Nature Center. Is It Rabbitbrush or Is It Sagebrush? https://www.alpinenaturecenter.org/rabbit-vs-sage.html

de Paola, Tomie. The Legend of the Indian Paintbrush. Penguin Putnam Books for Young Readers. 1988. https://www.tomie.com/https://www.audubon.org/news/celebrating-sagebrush-wests-most-important-native-plant

Johnson, Jeff. Head of Sinbad Pictographs in San Rafael Swell. https://thetrekplanner.com/head-of-sinbad-pictographs-san-rafael-swell-utah/

Larese-Casanova, Mark. Desert Plants Field Book. Utah Master Naturalist. https://digitalcommons.usu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1911&context=wats_facpub

Mozdy, Michael. Bold Figures, Blurred History: The Great Gallery in Horseshoe Canyon. October 2, 2016. https://nhmu.utah.edu/blog/2016/09/29/bold-figures-blurred-history-great-gallery-horseshoe-canyon

Miller, Pam, and Blaine Miller. Rock Art in Utah. https://www.uen.org/utah_history_encyclopedia/r/ROCK_ART.shtml

Parry, Darren. The Bear River Massacre: A Shoshone History. https://heritageandarts.utah.gov/the-bear-river-massacre-a-shoshone-history-a-conversation-with-darren-parry/

Repandshek, Kurt. Traces of a Lost People. The Smithsonian Magazine. March 2005. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/traces-of-a-lost-people-84026156/

Scotter, Troy, and Nina Bowen. The Rock Art of Utah. Utah Rock Art Research Association. May 13, 2020. https://urara.wildapricot.org/page-18203

Strand, Holly. Woody Plants of Utah. Wild About Utah, December 15, 2011. https://wildaboututah.org/tag/rabbitbrush/

Strand, Holly. Sagebrush. Wild About Utah, January 14, 2009. https://wildaboututah.org/sagebrush/

Susec, David. The Barrier Canyon Rock Art Style. The B.C.S. Project. https://www.bcsproject.org/barrierstyle.html

U.S. National Park Service. Seeing Rock Markings in a Whole New Way. https://www.nps.gov/articles/cany-rock-markings-photo.htm

Wampler, Fred. Paintbrush and Sagebrush. University of Mary Washington Gallery. https://www.umwgalleries.org/paintbrush-and-sagebrush/

Young, Lauren. Saving the American West’s Sagebrush Sea. May 19, 2001. https://www.sciencefriday.com/articles/saving-sagebrush/

October 18, 2021March 12, 2022

The Wonders of Bird Migration

As I watch waves of migrant birds move through our valley, beginning in mid-July with rufous humming birds and a few early shorebirds, followed by raptors pouring over the Wellsvilles mountains in mid-August, then September when many of our songbirds head for the tropics, and lastly in November come the waterfowl- ducks, geese, and swans stream through by the thousands, I am thunderstruck. The remarkable physiology that allows our avifauna to find their way through storm and unimaginable distances to their destinations defies logic. Fraught with peril, it is the most dangerous part of their existence since leaving the nest.

In the past two decades, our understanding of the navigational and physiological feats that enable birds to cross-immense oceans, fly above the highest mountains, or remain in unbroken flight for months has exploded. What has been learned of these migrations is nothing short of extraordinary.

Bird migration entails almost unfathomable endurance, like a sparrow sized sandpiper that flies nonstop from Canada to Venezuela- the equivalent of running 126 consecutive marathons without food, water, or rest- avoiding dehydration by drinking moisture from its own muscles and organs, while orienting itself using the earth’s magnetic field through a form of quantum entanglement that made Einstein queasy.

Crossing the Pacific Ocean in nine days of nonstop flight, as some birds do, leaves little time for sleep, but migrants can put half their brains to sleep for a few seconds at a time, alternating sides- and their reaction time actually improves.

Birds add muscle when and where it’s needed, and shrink it away when the task is completed. Barred godwits lose their entire digestive system for flight. They burn fuel with extraordinary efficiency, qualities that would make endocrinologists, bodybuilders and weight loss gurus salivate. Birds can pack on fat without obesity’s downsides, add muscle when and where it’s needed, and burn fuel with extraordinary efficiency. Most of their fuel comes from omega 3 fatty acids gained by eating certain crustaceans and other invertebrates along the way. These fats also provide water and assist with protein digestion and synthesis

Birds have intricate air sacks connected to their lungs allowing 90% efficiency in capturing oxygen, far beyond the human respiratory system capability. This is combined with super-efficient hemoglobin molecules. Pulmonary embolism, which I recently experienced, is unknown in migratory birds. Might these remarkable beings have something to tell myself and medical science?
Regarding navigation, in addition to sight and smell, it has been recently discovered that when a photon of blue light strikes crypto chrome in the bird’s eyes which it becomes magnetized through quantum entanglement allowing them to see the earth’s magnetic lines. That’s amazing! Much of this information is from “A World on the Wing: The Global Odyssey of Migratory Birds” by Scott Weidensaul, a beautifully written book you must read.

Jack Greene for Bridgerland Audubon Society and I’m wild about Utah

Credits:
The Wonders of Bird Migration
Picture: Courtesy Pixabay Manfred Antranias Zimmer, 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/

Weidensaul, Scott, A World on the Wing: The Global Odyssey of Migratory Birds, W. W. Norton & Company, March 30, 2021, https://www.amazon.com/World-Wing-Global-Odyssey-Migratory/dp/0393608905

Greene, Jack, Migration, Wild About Utah, September 24, 2018, https://wildaboututah.org/migration/

Hellstern, Ron, Autumn Migrations, Wild About Utah, October 16, 2017, https://wildaboututah.org/autumn-migrations/

Cane, James, Ladybird Beetle Migration, Wild About Utah, November 18, 2010, https://wildaboututah.org/ladybird-beetle-migration/

Strand, Holly, Heading South, Wild About Utah, October 28, 2010, https://wildaboututah.org/heading-south/

Strand, Holly, Spring Migration, Wild About Utah, April 28, 2009, https://wildaboututah.org/spring-migration/

October 11, 2021March 4, 2026

River Otters

Otter Courtesy Pixabay — Otter
Courtesy Pixabay

This summer, while running on the river trail, I saw an otter. A real life river otter. It leapt out of the water and darted into a pocket between rocks on the bank, with a trout in its mouth! It was one of those moments, where I was confronted with something that was, in my mind, so wildly outside the realm of possibility that it took me a minute to figure out what the blurred brown weasel-shaped thing even was. As soon as it registered as an otter I squealed with excitement, and subsequently side-tackled my border collie, whose desire to sniff and lick all new things would have ruined the moment for me, and our semi-aquatic friend.

When I lived in California, sea otters were a beloved, but fairly common sighting. I knew exactly where I could paddle my kayak to watch them floating on their backs, breaking open whatever mollusk they had plucked from the ocean floor to eat. I delighted in seeing them each time. But I took the fact that I could see them easily, for granted. We humans do that, I think. The things that we see often in our daily lives melt into the backdrop of the everyday, and can even cease to excite us.

When I first came to Utah, I put the notion of otters out of my mind. The first time someone mentioned river otters existing in this dry place with its hot summers and snow-filled winters, I think I may have laughed in their face. And then I whipped out my phone, and sought insights from the all-knowing Google “River otters in Utah?”. Once I knew that the freshwater cousins of the beloved marine mammals from home existed here, I desperately wanted to see them. That’s another thing I think most of us do. We accept truths in what we can see, feel, or touch. And if the thing is elusive, we want to see it all the more.

I live in Cache Valley, where the wild world feels much closer than it does in a big city. But I still sometimes feel suffocated by the human world. Concrete is slathered over much of the ground I walk on, and unless I hike deep into the pockets of the canyon, I can usually hear cars, or see folks on trails. It feels like so much of our world is discovered. And in the age of social media, places that were once far off the beaten path, now have well worn, heavily trodden trails sometimes even with lines of people flocking there. But I don’t have to blaze my own trail, or seek out some piece of so-called wilderness to feel wonder at the world around me. I took ocean otters for granted, and was given a chance at redemption with the river otter. I may never see another one again, but I know they’re there, swimming along as I run the river trail.

Despite the fact that 80 million miles of roads twist and turn across our planet. Or that human impacts hit just about everywhere, like the trash in the bottom of the Mariana Trench.,

There are still moments of wonder, where the natural world brings forth a complete surprise, a moment of stillness, some event that pops in unexpectedly as if to whisper “I’m still here!” and “there’s so much you don’t know”. I hope this gives you permission to take a moment and look around, take in all the natural world has to offer. Stop and look at the things your mind has melted into the background.

It doesn’t have to be a river otter, it could be the Sumac tree in your yard turning red. It could be excitement from seeing a new bird on your feeder. It has been raining as I write this. I’m going to go sit and listen to it.

I’m Ellis Juhlin, and I’m Wild About Utah

Credits:
Images: Courtesy Pixabay, https://pixabay.com/photos/otter-animal-close-up-portrait-275962/
Sound: Courtesy & Copyright Friend Weller, Utah Public Radio
Text: Ellis Juhlin, USU Department of Biology, Utah State University
Additional Reading: Lyle Bingham, Bridgerland Audubon Society

Additional Reading

Pieces by Ellis Juhlin on Wild About Utah

North American River Otter, Lontra canadensis, The National Wildlife Federation, https://www.nwf.org/Educational-Resources/Wildlife-Guide/Mammals/north-american-river-otter

North American River Otter, Lontra canadensis, National Geographic Photo Ark, https://www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/mammals/facts/north-american-river-otter

Lebing, Karen(Photographer), River Otters at the Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge, US Fish & Wildlife Service, August 1, 2019 https://www.fws.gov/ncgatewayvc/news/2019%20news/8-1-2019-Northamericanriverotter.html

Yellowstone River Otters, Courtesy National Geographic Wild:

Anifam (Animal Family) Channel, Sea Otters vs. River Otters: How to Distinguish Them???

October 4, 2021March 12, 2022

Sermons of Birds

There is a story I like of an old Zen master who one day was asked to speak wisdom to his acolytes as they were sitting outside. He obliged. He rose and walked to the front of the students. He waited a moment to think carefully about his words, opened his mouth, and then just as he was about to speak, a bird in a nearby tree sang its beautiful warbling song. The master did not interrupt but instead simply listened and waited until the song finished, and the bird had flown away. When it had, he finally spoke: “The sermon has been delivered,” he acknowledged, and took his seat once more.

I think about this story often and dwell on its themes. The true master who is the truest student. The songbird who speaks truth without language. The wisdom elevated by listening to the world without ego.

This time of year, I try to take the lesson of the Zen master and listen to the autumn world around me, the softening sounds of my time on earth. I take pause and hear the breeze which rustles box elders scarlet and shivers aspens gold. The wind which blankets the land and grows it rosy before winter’s snowy slumber.

The birds’ notes, the bearers of great truths, have shifted from their summer selves, too. No longer do they sing for love, but instead call for companions as they find flocks to blunder between fermented crabapple trees with, and telegraph where the good black oil seed is for the benefit of all who husk germ.

I find solidarity with their industry, for I believe we all come from the same inner place. They, doing what is good and right, and I as well. I, too, likely like you, get a hankering, a reckoning to winterize, to preserve, to stock up like a tree’s fattening roots, swollen full with the liquor of next spring’s buds and blossoms. I do it through crisp cider, hot corn chowder, steamed cans, jammed jars, strong mulled toddies, and wool. These are my fruits and fat stores. These are my natural inclinations.

I take from the story of the Zen master, too, that we are all on the same team. Just as the master understood to defer a message of truth to the birds, we can all recognize the truth in what autumn fills us all with: that drive of readiness for spring by ways of winter. That our season of without only can be because of seasons of with, and that our seasons of bounty can only be through the rest with which we are pulled in winter.

So this autumn, I encourage you to listen like the Zen master to the world around you. When it whispers, “put on a sweater and sip hot drinks by the hearth,” do so. When it bellows, “can and jam all of the things for winter is coming and the taste of summer is that season’s delight,” do so as well.

And when the world says, “listen,” in beautiful birdsong, do so, and know that you sing, too, by being who you are to your core.

I’m Patrick Kelly, and I’m Wild About Utah.

Credits:
Images: Courtesy Pixabay, HmsFree, Photographer
Audio: Courtesy & © Kevin Colver https://wildstore.wildsanctuary.com/collections/special-collections
Text: Patrick Kelly, Director of Education, Stokes Nature Center, https://www.logannature.org
Included Links: Patrick Kelly & Lyle Bingham, Webmaster, WildAboutUtah.org

Additional Reading

Wild About Utah, Posts by Patrick Kelly

Stokes Nature Center in Logan Canyon, https://www.logannature.org/