Playing catch up

Life is just too full of life.

I put a few grass florets under the microscope yesterday evening. Took a series of photos, compared them to listings in my guidebook, posted them to iNaturalist.  I was too sleepy, once that was done, to post a couple of photos of a brown-headed cowbird, as planned, and left it for today. But then I got up in the middle of the night to take photos of a moth beside my bed. 

I still have photos lined up for posting from the middle of last month. I'm thinking I will never, ever catch up.

So today I'm adding all the rest of my bird photos to the cowbird post. Ten photos, four folders cleared. That will help.

Molothrus ater. One-legged, chocolate-headed cowbird. 

Beside the cookhouse, Strathcona Lodge, Upper Campbell Lake.

Waiting for the Saltspring Island ferry. Adult gull, pink-legged.

This may be a youngster. Hard to tell.

A large flock of gulls hung around waiting for our ferry, maybe hoping for handouts.

Parking lot pigeon, Crofton beach.

Robin at the birdbath.

House Sparrow, Crofton Beach.

And these two last photos are poor, but just for the record; distant ducks at the beaver pond.

Male Wood Duck, Aix sponsa, among the water lilies.

Female Hooded Merganser, Lophodytes cucullatus.

Tomorrow, a bunch of water scenes, I think. Green water, blue water, white water.

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¡El mundo es tan lleno de vida!

Ayer por la tarde, examiné unas florecitas de pasto bajo el microscopio. Saqué fotos, las comparé con descripciones en mi libro guía, y las subí a iNaturalist. Y hecho esto, tenía mucho sueño y dejé para hoy subir aquí dos fotos de Tordos cabecipardos. Me fui a la cama, pero a medianoche me levanté para sacar fotos de una palomilla nocturna que vino a descansar en mi mesita de noche. 

Y todavía tengo fotos que están listas para subir desde mediados del mes pasado. Se me ocurre que nunca podré ponerme al corriente.

Pues, hoy estoy añadiendo todas las fotos de pájaros, sea donde sea las saqué, a las de los tordos. Diez fotos, y cuatro archivos finalizados. Un paso adelante.

1. Molothrus ater. Con una sola pata, cabeza color chocolate.
2. Lo encontré en el Centro de Educación/Resort Strathcona, a la orilla del lago Upper Campbell.
3. Gaviota, esperando el trasbordador que me llevaría a la isla Saltspring.
4. Creo que esta gaviota es un joven.
5. Una bandada grande de gaviotas esperaba el trasbordador.
6. Paloma en el estacionamiento al lado de la playa en Crofton.
7. Petirrojo en un jardín aquí en el pueblo.
8. Gorrión común, Crofton.
9. Y estas dos fotos salieron muy pobres, pero sirven de recordatorio. Este es un Pato Joyuyo macho.
10. Hooded Merganser, Lophodytes cucullatus, hembra, entre los lirios acuáticos.

Para mañana, escenas con agua, creo. Agua verde, azul, blanco.

Sometimes you get the bird

I'm happy. I took 4 very bad photos of a duck, and I'm pleased. Every time I visit the beaver pond, a few ducks take off as soon as I arrive, and go to hide in the grasses on the far side, too far away to see them, even. And this time, I had the camera on and pointing in the right direction, (because I'd been chasing dragonflies) and I caught one in flight. And it's a wood duck!

Halfway there.

Those brown things are water lily leaves. Many of them are standing above the water line, and most are dead. It's been a hard summer for them, even though the beavers have reinforced their dam at the outlet of the pond.

The wood duck. His mate followed him, but I wasn't fast enough to get her.

About those dragonflies: tomorrow.

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Estoy feliz. Saqué cuatro fotos muy malas de un pato, y lo estoy celebrando. Porque cada vez que visito la laguna de los castores, salen volando unos patos, y siempre llegan al otro lado de la laguna y se esconden entre los equisetos, antes de que les puedo sacar fotos. Pero esta vez, tenía la cámara lista, y apuntaba en la dirección de donde se levantó el pato (porque había estado buscando libélulas) y alcancé a sacar fotos mientras volaba. Y era un pato arcoíris macho, ¡tan bello!

1. Ya va por la mitad de la laguna. Las cosas cafés en el agua son lirios acuáticos. Muchos se levantan por encima de la superficie, y casi todos están muertos. Ha sido un verano difícil, aunque los castores han seguido manteniendo su presa a la salida de la laguna.
2. El pato. La hembra le siguió, pero no tuve tiempo de capturarla.

Acerca de esas libélulas: mañana habrá fotos.

Birding the beaver pond

 On a hot afternoon, a short walk is enough. From the road to the start of the path across the beaver lagoon and return. But there's always something to see.

Lily pads and reflections. With a few flower buds, still underwater.

Redwing blackbird, posed so as to hide his red shoulder decorations.

Hillside, dried broom (hope it doesn't recover), and clouds.

Circling, circling far overhead; a turkey vulture. Not hiding his red head.

A Skywatch post. 

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En una tarde con mucho sol un paseo cortito es lo mejor. Caminé desde la carretera hasta el borde de la laguna de los castores y regresé. Pero siempre hay algo ...

Fotos:

1. Las hojas de los lirios de agua, con algunos botones todavía bajo el agua. Y reflejos.
2. Un sargento alirrojo macho, escondiendo su emblema roja en el hombro.
3. Una vista del cerro, con nubes. Y las plantas invasivas retama negra, resecas. Ojalá no revivan.
4. Y dando vueltas y vueltas allá arriba, un buitre americano cabecirrojo.

Un post de Skywatch

Beaver pond, April

 I drove out yesterday to check on the beaver lodge again before the new summer growth disguises it. The water was high in the pond, and very calm; the water lilies are just starting to break the surface.

Beaver pond in the shade, April 2021

I've been taking photos of the lodge several times a year since 2017, and I just went back and compared all the photos. The lodge doesn't seem to get any taller, but in each photo the arrangement of sticks on top is different. The beavers are busy.

And no, I've never seen any of them. Beavers are mainly nocturnal. Maybe I'll go out there some warm moonlit night this summer.

Just a log, with the first water lily leaves, in the warmer microclimate on the sunny side.

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Fui ayer a visitar la laguna de los castores otra vez antes de que las nuevas hojas alrededor esconden la castorera. Había mucha agua en la laguna, y los lirios de agua apenas empiezan a romper la superficie.

Foto: la laguna, con la castorera en el centro, en la sombra.

He sacado fotos de la castorera varias veces cada año desde 2017, y acabo de juntar y hacer comparaciones de las fotos. La castorera no parece crecer, pero en cada foto, el arreglo de palos y tronquitos está cambiado. Los castores se mantienen ocupados.

Nunca he visto ninguno de ellos. Los castores son animales de noche, por la mayor parte. Creo que iré a esperarlos alguna noche de luna este verano.

Segunda foto: un tronco viejo, flotando, con las primeras hojas de lirio de agua aprovechándose del microclima un tanto más caluroso en el lado asoleado.

Pool without a name

Vancouver Island has some impressive scenery; towering snowy mountains, green valleys, shimmery lakes, rocky beaches, craggy cliffs. And then there are the in-between spaces. The left-over logging scars. Land stripped of its evergreen cover, slowly returning to life.

Like this one.

Nameless slough.

Even bathed in sunshine, this terrain has a forlorn, bedraggled feeling. Lonely and hopeless. And yet I am drawn to these sloughs; I stop often to look at them.

But appearances can be deceptive. The slough is full of vibrant life. And it has its own story.

At one time, this was dryish land; there's a small creek running through, but the land was dry enough for those dead trees to grow. There was a forest here: look at the stumps left by the loggers.

Logging changes the water patterns; the trees no longer retain the water until it soaks in. The moss dies under the onslaught of unfiltered sunshine. Water pools where before it oozed. Leftover trees die, with their roots rotting in the soggy soil.

Or maybe the change was hurried along by beavers, damming and backing up a tiny creek.

Google map view. Dark green is second-growth forest. Light green and brown; logged off more recently. Logging roads meander around; they brought in trucks and machinery.

Shallow water, grasses and water lilies.

The new pool makes a habitat for water lilies and grasses. At the edges, hardhack and willows settle in. And there will be frogs. And snakes hunting frogs. And in the summer, dragonflies and blue darners meadowhawks and water striders. Muskrats and beavers. Small fish. Turtles, maybe; racoons, of course.

And there are always ducks. A small flock flew away, quacking, when I got out of the car. There will be swallows chasing mosquitoes, redwing blackbirds nesting under the shrubbery. Hawks hunting smaller birds and assorted small mammals.

See? Not lonely at all.

The water is shallow: a foot deep or so, if you don't weigh much more than a frog. For us, the muck underneath is soft and deep. I fell in once, decades ago, looking for frogs. The water on that little pond was a hand's depth deep; I went down and down to waist deep in the mud. Lucky my brother was there to help pull me out!

(Aside: it's a long, long walk back to camp in dripping jeans and squelching, muddy shoes!)

Pointing at the sky

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Nuestra isla de Vancouver goza de paisajes bellos: montañas altas, cubiertas de nieve, valles verdes, lagos tranquilos, playas arenosas, precipicios abruptos. Pero también hay esos lugares olvidados, los espacios perdidos. Cicatrices hechas por la tala de árboles, terrenos desnudados, sin su vegetación original.

Como este. Un cenagal en un valle que antes llevaba bosque. Tiene un aspecto triste, abandonado, sin vida. Sin embargo, algo aquí me llama; me paro frecuentemente para mirar terrenos como este.

Pero las apariencias engañan. El cenagal está lleno de vida. Y tiene su historia.

Antes, aquí había bosque; se ven todavía los troncos dejados por los madereros. Y esos árboles ya muertos crecieron altos antes de que el agua cubriera sus raices y los mató.

La cosecha de madera cambia el sistema de aguas. Ya no hay árboles que retengan el agua hasta que penetre lentamente; ahora corre. Y el musgo, expuesto a los rayos sin filtro del sol, han muerto. El agua se estanca en los lugares planos.

Y tal vez los castores ayudaron a apurar este cambio, haciendo sus presas  en un riachuelo pequeño.

Pero se ha formado un nuevo habitat. Aquí llegaron los lirios del agua, pastos y arbustos, entre ellos la espirea douglasii con sus flores color de rosa, los sauces, las totoras. Habrá ranas. Y víboras cazando ranas. Y libélulas y sus parientes, y los insectos que caminan encima del agua. Habrá castores y ratas amizcleras. Tortugas, tal vez. Pececitos. Mapaches, claro.

Siempre habrá patos. Cuando llegué a las orillas de este lugar, una familia de patos se levantó y se fue, quejándose. Habrá golondrinas cazando mosquitos. Pájaros alirrojos haciendo sus nidos debajo de los arbustos. Halcones cazando pajaritos y mamíferos pequeños.

¿Ya ven? No es nada solitario, sin vida.

El agua no es muy hondo; apenas unos 30 centímetros, si eres una rana. Pero si eres humano, el fango debajo del agua es muy suave, y te hundes. Cuando era chica, hace siglos, caí en uno de estos cuando estábamos buscando ranas. Apenas había una palmada de agua, pero me hundí hasta la cintura en el lodo. ¡Por suerte mi hermano estaba a la mano para ayudarme!

The lodge in summer

The beaver lodge, that is.

Last March, I posted a photo of a beaver lodge I'd found near Echo Lake. I passed that way again today, and stopped to see how the family is doing. They've been working hard; the lodge is higher and wider and has new landscaping.

The lodge in its mini-lake. The pale yellowish flat area in back is all waterlilies.

Another view, from closer in. They've even got window boxes with plants!

For comparison: the lodge as it was 4 months ago.

Pond lily leaves and Floating-leaved pondweed.

Beavers are well-known for eating trees, both the wood and the juicy inner bark. But they vary their diet according to the season. In winter, it's trees. In the spring, they turn to newly-sprouting shrubs, and by summer, they're eating mainly soft vegetation. These pond lilies and the pondweed are a major part of their summer menu.

I smell a bear

Most of Vancouver Island is made up of rugged mountains; steep, rain-forested slopes crammed together, with narrow valleys between. Highways crawl along the bottom of these valleys, winding from one lake to the next. And between lakes, there are lagoons, bogs, ponds, creeks and puddles, even in this dry summer. I slow down, passing them; you never know what you'll see today.

One lagoon, too small to have a name, is always full of water lilies. I've stopped briefly sometimes, but took no photos; it's been green on green, with weeds. Last week, as I drove by, just before sunset, I saw a large yellow patch. Were the waterlilies blooming? I found a place to park and walked back.

Water Lily Pond

I had stopped by the second arm of the lagoon; a short walk. I was no sooner out of the car when I smelled a bear. Definitely bear, although I couldn't see any sign of him. But I recognized his bouquet; a mixture of wet dog, old fish, neglected outhouse, compost.

Not to worry; it's not cub season, and I was on a busy highway. I went on to look at the water lilies.

And there were no water lily flowers. The yellow was the evening sun slanting down onto dying leaves, grasses gone to seed, and maybe a few distant goldenrods.

Second arm of the lagoon

As I returned to the car, passing a grove of trees that hid the centre of the lagoon, and coming out into the open again, there was a loud "plop!" Not a fish jumping; they splash or slap the water; this was like the sound a rock makes when you throw it two-handed into the water.

I looked, but all there was to see was a long ripple just under the surface. Something large swimming underwater. Not a bear. I couldn't smell the bear any more, anyhow.

I stood there a long while, puzzling over the sound, waiting for something to show its face. No luck.

At home, I looked at the photos I'd taken. They were dark and noisy; it was the end of the day, in the shade. But there was something there. I lightened the photo to see.

Beaver lodge

A beaver lodge, hidden at the mouth of a creek. So that was what plopped!

Question: does a beaver smell like a bear? Or did I miss seeing both beaver and bear?

7 year old pond

At the Little River restoration project in Comox, two small ponds have been dug out in what 7 years ago used to be an old gravel pit. Volunteers from the Naturalist Society cleared out invasive Scotch broom and replaced it with native species, including the trees. Now the new park includes a small wetland, a dry meadow, bits of forest, a stretch of river, and a path to the beach.

I passed the wetland on my way to the beach, looking for Claytonia, but returned to inspect the ponds more closely later.

Coho salmon and cutthroat trout fry spend a year or more in these ponds before moving on to the ocean, eating and sometimes being eaten by assorted insects. Signs around the pond remind us to look predacious diving beetles, back swimmers, water scorpions, and more. An "extraordinary diversity of dragonfly species" (TideChange) makes their home here.

I didn't see any of these on my first visit; there were a few bees prospecting for pollen in the Indian plum bushes, no dragonflies. It's early in the season. I'll go back later. For now, there are waterlilies.

Variegated yellow pond lilies, according to the sign.

One lily, standing proud.

Laconic

Because I can't do wordless.

Deer Lake, Burnaby, on a sunny Sunday afternoon

And white water lilies.