Autumn Windfall

When I returned to our Littleton farm, two weeks ago, I was greeted by colorful shrubs and trees; of course, here along the Front Range, those colors are primarily various shades of yellow and orange.  Since then, winds associated with two storm systems have brought down most of those leaves and they now cover our driveway, "lawns" and pastures.

I could get our the rake or (God forbid) buy a noisy leaf blower, but, over the next month or so, nature will provide the cleanup service.  Unless the leaves are temporarily held in place by a heavy snowfall, they will swirl about in the changing wind, scattering across the dry landscape until they come to rest beneath our shrub and tree lines.  There they will slowly decompose for the next six months, feeding a wide variety of invertebrates and nourishing the foliage.

If we are patient and accept her untidy style, Nature provides both the cleanup and the fertilization that her landscapes depend on.  We, in turn, are rewarded with their beauty and with the time to explore them.  

Flashback Post XL

Returning to our Littleton, Colorado, farm, I found that the chokecherries are in bloom (several weeks behind schedule due to the chilly spring).  However, due to the recent rains, they are especially robust.  Back in 2017, I discussed these prolific shrubs and their suitability for Front Range landscaping.

See: Chokecherry Farm 

Return to a Ravaged Farm

It was good to escape the Midwestern heat wave and return to the relatively cool, dry air of the Colorado Front Range.  Intermittent snow and rain during the spring has spawned a healthy amount of greenery on our Littleton farm but strong storms, associated with high winds, damaged a large number of trees.

Combined with the prolonged drought of last summer and fall, the storms left our property looking like a war zone with some dead shrubs and trees and numerous large limbs scattered about the pastures and "lawns."  It will take some time to cut them up and haul them to the brush piles but such exercise is easier to take in the drier, cooler air.

On the other hand, most of our native trees and shrubs, including locusts, mulberries and chokecherries have come through nature's wrath in good shape, able to tolerate the drought and strong winds that regularly occur in this region.  Planting such species (or allowing them spread naturally) reduces demand on our dwindling water supply, retains natural beauty on the farm and insures that our wild residents will have plenty of food under all weather conditions. 

A Brief Spring

Now that winter has pushed back to the north, spring is taking hold with more conviction along the Colorado Front Range.  Here on our Littleton farm, the crabapples and wild plums are in full bloom while the lilacs and chokecherries are beginning to flower.

This morning, down along the South Platte, yellow-rumped warblers were common as their spring migration peaks; summer residents included cinnamon and blue-winged teal, yellow warblers, a blue-gray gnatcatcher, Bullock's orioles and a lone osprey.  Back at the farm, I encountered the first western wood pewee of the season (though eBird's computer questions my discovery).

Controversies aside, we expect sunny, warm weather for the next few days, leading up to my journey back to Missouri.  There I am told to anticipate hot, humid, summer-like conditions; I may remember 2022 as the year without a spring!

A Reclusive Visitor

While spotted towhees are permanent residents on our Littleton, Colorado, farm, green-tailed towhees are uncommon visitors, stopping by as they head to or from the foothills.  Having wintered in Mexico or in the low deserts of Arizona and New Mexico, they summer on brushy slopes and canyon walls throughout the Intermountain West.  Here along the Front Range, they prefer the foothill shrub zone, dominated by junipers and Gambel oak.

When I encounter this attractive towhee on the farm, it is usually in May and I am fortunate to find more than one.  Indeed, they spend most of their time in dense shrubs or thickets, protected from potential predators as they scratch through leaf litter for insects and seeds.  Their nests are also constructed within such dense vegetation.

Yesterday's visitor emerged from the cover of a sprawling juniper for a minute or less, just enough time for me to admire his colorful plumage and offer a brief greeting.  Not interested in idle banter, he returned to the seclusion of his shadowy hunting grounds. 

Birding from the Bathroom

While birding is generally an outdoor activity, seasoned birders know that certain indoor locations can offer productive and unobtrusive viewing sites, especially when they overlook good avian habitat.  Such is the opportunity provided by one of our bathroom windows.

Just outside the window is a naturalized hedge of lilac shrubs.  Untouched for many years, the lilacs still produce attractive and fragrant flowers but are also riddled with dead branches.  Better yet, beneath the shrubs, the soil is especially rich and coated with many years of dead leaves and twigs.  As a result, the lilacs and the ground beneath them offer ideal hunting grounds for a wide variety of avian residents and visitors.

Spotted towees are especially fond of the shrub line, scratching away in the leaf litter to find a host of tasty invertebrates.  Other common patrons are chickadees, bushtits, dark-eyed juncos, house wrens, gray catbirds and house finches; occasional visitors include hermit and Swainson's thrushes, white-crowned sparrows and yellow-rumped warblers.  Personally, I have found that birdwatching while tooth brushing is an efficient way to start he day! 

Spring Breaks Through

After a very sluggish start, it appears that spring has finally displaced winter in central Missouri.  The hardy magnolias have lost their blossoms and redbuds and lilacs now adorn the landscape.  Most of the summer songbirds have returned and spring migrants are passing through.  And, perhaps most inviting, we are looking forward to a warm week, with highs in the 60s and 70s F and lows well above the risk for snow or ice.

Of course, here in the Midwest, showers and thunderstorms can be expected but warm precipitation is certainly preferable to the cold rain and wintry mix of March and early April.  Toads are trilling, snakes, lizards and turtles have emerged from their winter retreats and young cottontails are dining on wildflowers that now grace the lawn.

During this difficult spring, when most of us are confined to our homes, the warm weather and increasing natural diversity are especially welcome.  One could spend a lifetime learning about the many creatures and plants in their own backyard and this is a perfect year to expand that knowledge. 

Golden Currant

Golden currant is a small, drought tolerant shrub native to western North America; it has also become naturalized across most of the U.S., excluding the Southeastern States.  Its loosely-branching, woody stems bear lobular, maple-like leaves; in early-mid spring (depending on elevation and latitude), clusters of fragrant, tubular yellow flowers appear, attracting hummingbirds, orioles and a variety of pollinating insects (including monarch butterflies).

On our Littleton farm, we have several patches of golden current; favoring partial shade, they mingle with chokecherry, lilacs and other shrubs in our woodland borders.  Blooming over the past week, the flowers will yield small blue-black berries by early-mid summer, consumed by a host of songbirds and small mammals; humans also enjoy currant berries, using them to make jams and jellies.

Like most plants on our farm, these natives require no irrigation or maintenance.  Better yet, they more than compensate for the space they occupy, offering beauty and attracting many wild visitors.  Over time, those visitors will return the favor, spreading the plant's seeds to other areas of the property.

The Greenery of Winter

As we approach the winter solstice, much of the Temperate Zone landscape appears to be lifeless.  Brown, dry grasslands, barren deciduous trees and leafless thickets dominate the scene while the refuse of the growing season blows across our fields and lawns.  Fortunately, an exception is provided by the conifers, the evergreen trees and shrubs that adorn our parks, suburbs, farmlands and forests.

Here on our Littleton farm, we have a mix of conifers, including junipers, pinon pines, Austrian pines and a few spruce trees.  Providing greenery during the winter months, they also attract a wide variety of birds that utilize their shelter and feast on their berries and nuts.  Among these residents and visitors are red-breasted nuthatches, bushtits, cedar and Bohemian waxwings, pine siskins and other more common species.  The presence of these conifers also increases our chance to see mountain birds that may descend to lower elevations in winter; these include northern goshawks, Steller's jays, mountain chickadees, red crossbills, Cassin's finches and, in some years, evening grosbeaks.

The use of conifers for Christmas trees, wreaths and garlands, stems from the rituals of ancient man, who considered them signs of perpetual life and used them to fuel winter solstice bonfires to coax back the life-giving sun.  Even today, when we understand the solar cycle, the greenery of conifers offers hope through the dark, frigid months of winter.

Chokecherry Farm

If I were to name our Littleton, Colorado, farm, I would probably choose Chokecherry Farm.  These suckering, drought-tolerant shrubs are widespread on our property, growing along borders, fence lines and our man-made structures.

Now festooned with racemes of small white flowers (well ahead of schedule due to our warm winter and spring), the shrubs will produce clusters of black cherries that attract a wide variety of birds and mammals.  Though they are a bit sour, chokecherries have long been used by humans to produce jams, sauces, jellies and wine.  Unfortunately, the foliage of chokecherries is toxic to ruminants and can be fatal to livestock if consumed in large quantities.

Native to southern Canada and the northern half of the Lower 48 States, the chokecherry is a hardy shrub, able to tolerate both cold winters and hot, dry summers.  Here along the Colorado Front Range, where water use must be curtailed, it is a valuable component of the landscape, offering beauty and a natural food source while requiring little maintenance and no irrigation.

Sparrows in the Rabbitbrush

Rabbitbrush is a common shrub in semiarid regions of the American West.  For much of the year, it likely goes unnoticed by hikers and casual naturalists but, in autumn, its canopy of pungent, bright yellow flowers attracts everyone's attention.

By early winter, the flowers have faded to dull-colored seed heads and dense stands of rabbitbrush attract a variety of wintering songbirds, especially sparrows.  The abundant seeds offer a plentiful source of food and the shrub's dome-like structure "shades" the ground from snowfall, providing open forage areas and refuge from predators.  Here along the Colorado Front Range, white-crowned sparrows are often abundant in these stands in late autumn, replaced during the colder months by American tree sparrows, song sparrows and, on occasion, Harris' sparrows; spotted towhees, dark-eyed juncos, house finches and goldfinches (both American and lesser) also feed on or beneath the rabbitbrush.

Birders who visit South Platte Park, in Littleton, generally focus on the excellent diversity of waterfowl and raptors.  Unless they stop along the trails to survey the rabbitbrush, they may miss the more reclusive songbirds.

The Mystery Legume

When we purchased our Littleton farm, in 1990, I discovered a healthy looking shrub beneath a pair of spruce trees east of the house.  Never much of a botanist, I could not identify the shrub but noticed that its leaves, while softer and paler in color, resembled those of our locust trees.  Small yellow flowers appeared by mid spring and, in mid summer, numerous small spindle-shaped pods hung from its branches, confirming that it is a legume.

Following years of failing to identify the shrub in field guides, the wonders of an internet search finally provided the answer; our lone, hardy shrub is a Siberian Pea Tree.  Native to Siberia, China, Mongolia and Kazakistan, this deciduous shrub has been used for windbreaks across northern regions of the globe; while its seed pods may be cooked for human consumption, the abundant seeds are favored by a wide variety of birds and small mammals, including domestic chickens.

Though our Siberian Pea Tree has adapted well to the Front Range soil and climate (without artificial feeding or watering), it has not spread to other sites on the farm (unlike locusts, lilacs, wild cherries, wild plums and chokecherries); indeed, I have scattered its seed myself without success.  Apparently, this hardy yet attractive shrub is a reluctant parent.

Wild Plum

By mid April, stands of wild plum are readily observed along the Colorado Front Range.  Their clusters of white flowers, appearing before the leaves, adorn the barren limbs; favoring relatively moist soil and full sun exposure, this native shrub (or small tree) grows along streams and in sunny areas of foothill canyons.  Spines often appear on the rigid stems and the leaves, which begin to unfold as the flowers fade, have a finely serrated edge.

The reddish plums appear by early summer and are consumed by a wide variety of birds and small mammals; mule and white-tailed deer also brows on their leaves and stems.  Like other shrubs of the Colorado Piedmont and Front Range foothills, wild plum is drought and cold tolerant and is spread across the semiarid landscape in the droppings of wildlife that feed on its fruit.

Fortunately, developers and homeowners along the urban corridor have utilized wild plum in decorative plantings.  By choosing native plants that are well adapted to the Front Range climate, we minimize the need for supplemental water and artificial fertilizers while supporting the welfare of native wildlife species.

The Hardy Lilac

Lilac shrubs, renowned for their beauty and fragrance, are blooming on our Littleton farm, a couple weeks ahead of schedule; two weeks of summer-like weather have triggered the early flowering.  Native to the Balkan Peninsula of Eastern Europe, these attractive shrubs have been planted across the globe and adapt well to the sunny, semiarid environment of the Colorado Front Range.

Indeed, our scattered lilac hedges require very little maintenance and no supplemental watering; cutting out dead limbs is the extent of our intervention.  Since they spread by suckering, lilacs form colonial clumps which favor full sun exposure and well drained soil; found on rocky hillsides in their native range, long-lived lilac stands often mark the past sites of abandoned homesteads in other regions of human habitation.  On the negative side, these hardy shrubs tend to crowd out other vegetation; on our property, two forsythia bushes have recently succumbed to aggressive lilac expansion.

While we humans are enamored with lilacs for their physical traits, they also attract a wide variety of butterflies.  Though they were not introduced to North America until the 18th Century, they have rapidly naturalized across this Continent and are surely here to stay, whether we tend to them or not.

 

Sandbar Willow

Of the many species of vegetation found on the South Platte floodplain, sandbar willow is surely the most abundant and widespread.  This shrub or small tree spreads primarily by suckering and thus forms dense colonies on the banks and sandbars of rivers and streams; since it favors sunny areas, it is less abundant where cottonwoods shade the channel.

Sandbar willows are found throughout Temperate regions of North America and are represented by three subspecies; in the Western U.S., they are also known as coyote willow.  Easily identified by their long, slender leaves, flexible stems and dense colonies, sandbar willows are consumed by a host of mammals, including elk, moose, deer, beaver, muskrats and cottontails.  Male and female flowers, which appear in late spring, are borne on separate plants and seed pods appear by mid summer; the latter contain numerous small seeds that are consumed by riparian songbirds, waterfowl and game birds.

Sandbar willows are pioneer plants, among the first to reappear after destructive floods; indeed, they are tolerant of high water conditions and their extensive root systems help to stabilize stream banks when seasonal floods do occur.  Since flood control reservoirs now minimize that risk along the South Platte, the dense stands of sandbar willow are now of most value to wildlife, offering both food and cover for a wide variety of birds, reptiles and mammals.

From Summer to Winter

Following a week of summer-like weather, with afternoon highs at or near 70 degrees F, winter conditions have returned to the Colorado Front Range.  A chilly rain fell overnight and was mixing with snow by dawn; as I write this blog, the precipitation has changed over to snow but, so far, accumulation has been minimal due to the warm ground.

The dramatic change in weather, not unusual along the Front Range in March and April, is courtesy of a Pacific storm system that swept across the Rockies last evening.  Ahead of the storm's cold front, severe thunderstorms are forming from the Southern Plains to the mid Mississippi Valley while, behind the front, an upslope flow is bringing snow to the Northern Plains and the Front Range.  The position of the storm's central low, now over southeastern Kansas, is limiting the intensity of the upslope and only four inches of snow accumulation is expected in Metro Denver by midnight.

While the wet snow will pose little threat to the trees and shrubs on our Littleton farm, an overnight low temperature near 20 degrees F will create havoc for the fruit trees that are now in bloom.  The pear, apricot and crabapple crop will surely be poor this year; fortunately, the apple and mulberry trees and the chokecherry shrubs are not yet flowering and their fruit will be spared (at least by this winter outbreak).

The Month of Transition

While April weather can be fickle, there is generally a significant transition toward warmer days, punctuated by regular periods of rain.  Of course, the higher sun and milder air set the stage for severe weather as an active spring jet stream undulates across the Heartland, ushering in a series of Pacific storms.

In concert, greenery climbs through the shrubs and trees and, by the end of the month, the leafing process is nearly complete.  Wildflowers, limited to a host of bulb plants in March, now spread through the woodlands and a wide variety of trees and shrubs begin to bloom; wild cherry and magnolias generally lead the way, followed by peach, apricot, chokecherry and crab apple trees.  By mid April, most of the drab winter songbirds have departed for the north and colorful summer residents are now more numerous and diverse; among the latter are gray catbirds, brown thrashers, northern orioles, indigo buntings, ruby-throated hummingbirds, house wrens, blue-gray gnatcatchers and chipping sparrows.  For many birders, late April is the highlight of their year as both summer and migrant warblers appear in the Heartland, feasting on the growing hordes of insects.

Out in the wetlands, the chorus frogs and spring peepers become less vocal as the month progresses, yielding to cricket, leopard, green and bullfrogs.  As the lakes and ponds warm in the high April sun, aquatic turtles and water snakes are more evident, basking on logs or muddy banks.  In our suburbs, garter snakes emerge, toads trill, young cottontails and opossums wander through the yard and a host of bees and butterflies grace the flower beds.  Before it ends, April takes us from the tentative recovery of March to the feverish growth of May.

A Hummingbird Shower

Birdwatchers use a variety of means to attract hummingbirds; they are, after all, among our most attractive and fascinating birds.  Some of us use traditional feeders, filled with sweet, homemade nectar, while others plant a variety of flowering plants, such as trumpet vine, that hummingbirds visit.  Of course, a source of clean, fresh water is also effective, as with all birds.

Yesterday evening, while watering a row of chokecherries and lilacs, I discovered the most effective means of attracting hummingbirds that I had yet to experience.  Within a few minutes of spraying the shrubs with my patented thumb-pressure method, broad-tailed hummingbirds began to arrive from all directions, dipping through the mist or perching near the edge of the spray to cleanse their feathers.  At least ten individuals took advantage of the shower though only a few were bold enough to receive a thorough soaking; the latter group, relishing the downpour, were oblivious to my presence, offering a very close view of their attractive plumage.

This shower method of drawing in hummingbirds was surely augmented by our recent hot weather and dearth of rainfall.  It was easy to empathize with the joy of their discovery and I was hesitant to move on until their enthusiasm waned.  Like the hummingbirds and the plants, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

Mangroves

Tolerant of saltwater, mangroves are represented by a wide variety of species that colonize tropical coasts across our planet. In the U.S., mangrove ecosystems are best developed along the Gulf Coast of southern Florida, from Tampa Bay to the Florida Keys.

Red mangrove shrubs are the vanguard of these coastal woodlands, forming the interface between water and land. Lining tidal streams, bays and inlets, these shrubs form dense thickets, easily recognized by the arching pattern of stilt-like roots that sprout from their lower trunks. These pioneer plants have adapted to their marine habitat by retaining fertilized seeds on their stems, where they germinate into small seedlings; released into the tidal waters, they float about until they encounter a sandbar or mudflat, where they quickly gain a foothold. Those not dislodged by storms or high waves grow rapidly and their tangle of roots trap sand, mud and organic debris; in doing so, the lone mangrove generates an island or peninsula as additional seedlings take root at their edge.

Just inland from the red mangroves is a band of black mangroves; also shrub-like, these trees are less tolerant of standing water and occupy sandy shores just above the high-tide line. Further inland are the white mangroves, which grow to heights of 30 feet in some areas. The ecosystem covered by these mangrove bands harbor a variety of wildlife, including wading birds that fish the shallows, raccoons that stalk the mudflats and mangrove crabs that climb the twisted branches; protecting tidal creeks from pounding waves, these evergreen woodlands also harbor vital nurseries for marine fish. Finally, mangrove islands are a favorite nesting site for brown pelicans, herons, anhingas and egrets, offering protection from land predators; unfortunately, the copious guano produced by these flocks will, in time, poison and kill the trees.

Last Day on the Farm

It's the last day on our Littleton, Colorado, farm before returning to Missouri, where my real job awaits. Despite some rainy weather (always welcome out here), it's been a good week, with a mix of chores and recreation. Summer-like conditions returned today, with a high near eighty, but the greenery and color should last for another month or so.

The wet, mild spring produced a spectacular lilac bloom this year and the chokecherry blossoms are more extensive than I've seen in years, a good omen for the birds and squirrels that feed on their fruit. The mulberries are just beginning to form and, until they're ripe, there's plenty of juniper berries for the robins, catbirds and waxwings. Western tanagers stopped by this week, an annual visit on their way to the mountains; other migrants have included yellow-rumped warblers, white-crowned sparrows and ruby-crowned kinglets. Two of our summer residents, northern orioles and broad-tailed hummingbirds, also returned this week.

Unfortunately, we seemed to have lost our resident pair of red fox; I've seen neither the red female nor her melanistic partner this visit and we usually have pups roaming the farm by now. Recent work on our pasture fence may have scared them off or, perhaps, one of the adults has been killed. We, of course, have an open door policy for all wildlife and, if we're lucky, the fox will return for our visit in June.