Kites in the Trees

A flock of Mississippi kites settled in the canopy of shade trees in our neighborhood this morning, whistling to one another.  As their "fall migration" approaches, they seem to be more interested in communicating than hunting.

Though it was a hot, humid day, their musical banter continued into the afternoon, once again demonstrating that they are unfazed by tropical heat.

Indeed, they will depart for South America before the first hint of autumn pushes into the Heartland.  I wish them a safe journey but, unlike them, I can't wait for the cool, crisp weather of fall.  Of course, that relief is now coming later every year.  

LaLa lands in Hawaii

Tropical storm LaLa (perhaps a Category 1 hurricane by now) will pass swiftly south of the Hawaiian Islands over the next two days.  Counterclockwise winds are expected to bring high waves and heavy rain to east facing beaches and mountain slopes, especially on the Big Island and Maui.  The storm's rapid forward motion will hopefully serve to minimize damage across the archipelago.

To date, the Pacific hurricane and typhoon season has been active while Atlantic storms have been suppressed by a strong El Niño (which increases wind shear in the Caribbean) and large clouds of African dust that interfere with storm dynamics.

Nevertheless, the Atlantic Hurricane Season does not generally peak until mid-late September and lasts into November.  Communities along the Gulf and East Coasts are just beginning their season of risk and, as we found out in recent years, inland cities are also vulnerable to these powerful storms and their flooding rains. 

Healing Rain

After at least a month of extreme heat, bright sunshine and no precipitation, our Littleton farm received significant rain over the past two days.  The Southwest Monsoon has intensified along the Front Range and our parched vegetation may green up a bit; at the very least, the risk of fire on our pastures has been greatly diminished.

Elsewhere in the Denver Metro Area, flash flooding has occurred, especially in foothill canyons and across higher terrain south of the city.  The Monsoon is notorious for its uneven distribution of rain, producing heavy downpours in some locations while missing others altogether.

Since the Monsoon Season usually persists into early September, we are hopeful that more healing rains will bless our property.  Now that the dome of heat has shifted eastward, that possibility has increased. 

A Fruitless Year

We are fortunate to have a variety of fruit-producing trees and shrubs on our Littleton farm.  Unfortunately, following a nearly snowless winter, a hard freeze struck in mid-spring, wiping out fruit blossoms and eliminating most of our fruit crop this year. 

Apples, plums, mulberries, crabapples, apricots, wild cherries and pears have not appeared; there has been a limited supply of chokecherries.  The only fruit trees with their usual crop are the junipers, a welcome development for robins, cedar waxwings and for our lone Townsend's solitaire that arrives by October.  Indeed, the lack of fruit seems to have had a significant impact on the number and variety of birds observed on the farm this summer.

Growing fruit in this semiarid ecosystem is always a bit of a gamble but I do not recall any previous year when a spring weather event has been so deleterious.  Followed by an extremely hot and dry summer, that hard freeze seems to have been a warning sign of rough times ahead. 

A Gift from August

August, long renowned for its heat, arrived overnight behind a cold front, bringing cool, misty weather to central Missouri.  Ahead of that front, heavy rain fell across Columbia, a welcome dose of moisture during this long, brutal summer.

While we certainly appreciate that a dramatic change in weather has arrived with the new month, there is little doubt that the heat will return as the front heads east.  But, for now, the cool respite will facilitate some much-delayed yard work.

Since it is the last meteorological month of summer, August invites us to look ahead to the glorious season of autumn.  Unfortunately, climate change is pushing back that transition and, before long, August may represent the midpoint of a prolonged summer season. 

Heat-Seeking Raptors

On this hot, humid afternoon in central Missouri, a trio of Mississippi kites soared above our Columbia neighborhood, feasting on insects.  Their energy under such conditions is impressive.

After nesting and summering across the Southern Plains and Lower Mississippi Valley, they will escape to South America for another summer in the Southern Hemisphere, traveling through hot climes along the way.  When you feed primarily on flying insects, it is best to be where they thrive.

While their seasonal movements are instinctual, these kites are certainly unfazed by weather that many, if not most humans, find oppressive.  Then again, they are not subjected to dire heat advisories. 

A Skink Emerges

As I discussed in A Skink Mystery, last September, our resident five-lined skinks, which were of usual abundance in the spring, disappeared throughout the summer.  In fact, they failed to emerge in the autumn as well and I came to the conclusion that a local die-off had occurred.

Very common on our Columbia property since we moved here in 1997, they would scurry across the deck and walkways or hang out at the compost bin to feast on a variety of invertebrates.  This spring and early summer passed without any sightings (though I am often out of town).  Then, about 10:30 this morning, as I lounged on our front porch, a young skink, sporting its bright blue tail, raced across the bricks.  He/she was the first I have seen here since the spring of 2025.

I have no explanation for this confusing saga but was glad to witness an apparent recovery.  Nature keeps us guessing. 

Night Rescue

A month past the summer solstice, our days are noticeably shorter.  As we endure a long period of severe heat, the longer nights cannot arrive soon enough.

Indeed, this astronomical rescue from sunlight will be the ultimate solution to the heat exhaustion that is affecting populations across the Northern Hemisphere.  Though we usually take this annual transition for granted, it will be especially welcome this year (and likely for many years to come).

No doubt, we will complain about the incursions of winter when they arrive but we can more easily prepare for them; besides, as our climate warms, they may disappear altogether.  For now, bring on the darkness!  

An Unfair Monsoon

Following two weeks of bright sunshine and severe heat, the annual Southwest Monsoon finally reached the Front Range urban corridor earlier this week.  Its scattered thunderstorms have dropped flooding rains in some areas while other locations (including our Littleton farm) have received little, if any, precipitation.

Such is the nature of the Monsoon.  Unlike the widespread, upslope rain and snow storms of spring, this river of moisture is less predictable.  Of course, between now and early September, most of us will receive some vital precipitation but the gift will likely be uneven, reflecting the effects of our varied terrain and the mountain wall to our west.  But we'll take what we can get.

Life is not fair, nature is not fair and the Monsoon can be frustratingly unfair. 

The Birding Nadir

While naturalists enjoy outdoor sightings (plant and animal) throughout all seasons, I suspect that, for most birders in the Temperate Zone, July is the low point of their year.  The breeding season has ended, heat suppresses avian activity and, except for some "early" shorebirds, migrations are not underway.

Though winter weather may pose more of a challenge for some birders, permanent and winter species tend to be active and conspicuous; after all, their survival depends on locating an adequate supply of food.  Furthermore, winter often brings irruptive species and rare wanderers into our area.  Of course, the spring and fall migration periods are especially rewarding, offering a mix of permanent and seasonal residents, joined by a fabulous variety of transient visitors.

Experienced birders know that early and late day jaunts are the best way to encounter a reasonable number of species during the heat of summer.  Nevertheless, in my experience, July cannot match the avian diversity of June or August; it earns my personal designation as the birding nadir.  

The Drought and Waders

Non-birders may be surprised to learn that a wide variety of herons, ibis and egrets summer in or visit the Front Range urban corridor.  Indeed, great blue herons and black-crowned night herons are common permanent residents while great egrets, snowy egrets, white-faced ibis and cattle egrets are common summer residents and migrants.  Both American and least bitterns are uncommon summer residents and a host of waders are rare summer visitors; the latter include tricolored herons, yellow-crowned night herons and white ibis.

Most of these waders favor shallow mudflats and marshlands along the border of ponds, lakes and rivers and are thus not obvious to those who visit wetland habitats.  This summer, however, the drought has severely lowered the water level in lakes and rivers, drawing herons and egrets out into the open in search of fish and aquatic invertebrates.

As a result, I have encountered far more waders in Littleton than I have seen in past years.  Just this morning, I saw ten snowy egrets, five black-crowned night herons and a few great blue herons along a short stretch of the South Platte River.  Of course, such rewards do not make up for a crippling drought but its effects are worth noting. 

A Voice of Promise

As we enter the heart of summer in the midst of a heat wave and bathed in smoke from the Utah fires, it was reassuring to hear the soft hooting of a great horned owl last evening.  Common throughout most of the Western Hemisphere, these large owls are regular visitors to our Littleton farm though, to my knowledge, they have never nested on the property.

The rather muted voice of last evening's visitor suggested it was a young owl, born last winter and now on its own after several months of parental assistance.  The soft hoots, from a large tree near our house, certainly did not match the loud, confident banter of adult owls in late autumn and winter.

Feeding on a wide range of mammals, from mice to opossums, and on snakes, lizards and birds as well, great horned owls tend to be silent loners throughout the warmer months.  Last evening's hoots thus seemed to promise that cool, crisp October nights lie ahead.   

Colorado's Severe Weather Month

As if on cue, a swarm of severe thunderstorms ignited along the Front Range yesterday afternoon, dropping torrential rain and large hail and, in one case, spawning a brief tornado.  Fortunately, our Littleton farm was sparred any damage but we also missed out on the rain.

While severe weather usually begins to decline across the Great Plains and Midwest by early June, it is ramping up in northeast Colorado.  Indeed, tornados are most common during this month, primarily affecting the High Plains of the Colorado-Wyoming-Nebraska Tristate.  Of course, the Front Range urban corridor is not immune to these storms and hail damage can be significant.

How global warming will affect this traditional weather pattern and the Southwest Monsoon that follows remains to be seen.  While the moisture is almost always welcomed, we could do without the powerful winds and large hail that June too often delivers.  

Waders in the Shallows

Returning to Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area this morning, a friend and I found that the water levels have continued to fall and that vast shallows spread out from the central channel and along the primary drainages of the refuge.  Not surprisingly, these conditions attracted a large number of waders (61 great blue herons and 37 great egrets), perhaps the most I have ever observed at this floodplain preserve.

As summer sets in, waterfowl were limited to the resident Canada geese and a lone, male wood duck.  Killdeer were the only "shorebirds" and turkey vultures were the sole raptors.  Dickcissels, the most abundant songbirds, called from the drier grasslands while many summer residents, hidden in the foliage, were identified by their songs; these included yellow-breasted chats, yellow warblers and common yellowthroats.  More conspicuous were indigo buntings, fish crows and mixed flocks of swallows.  A single cormorant, finding the water too shallow for diving, flew across the refuge, heading for deeper fishing grounds.

Having recovered from a prolonged drought, this wetland refuge must now rely on periods of heavy rain to sustain its rich ecosystem.  Of course, human visitors, ourselves included, hope that summer storms regularly douse the floodplain. 

March in May III

Following a round of thunderstorms yesterday, it is chilly and raining in Metro Denver today, the product of an upslope flow behind the potent cold front.  High temperatures today will be in the 40s F and our overnight low is expected to fall into the 30s.

I would complain about the clouds, the rain and the chill but they are just what we need as we hope to recover from a prolonged drought and nearly snowless winter.  The thirsty plants on our Littleton farm are surely relieved by the March-like weather and are resident birds are as active and as noisy as usual.

This cool, wet interlude will last another day or two but it seems the stagnant weather pattern that brought us the drought has broken down.  Bring on an unrelenting Southwest Monsoon!

Addendum:  The title of this post reflects the fact that March-like weather is not uncommon in May along the Front Range urban corridor; the title has been used at least twice before over the history of this Blog. 

Bovine Bathing

As summer-like heat builds across the Great Plains, bovine bathing is off to an early start.  Grazing comfortably on verdant pastures just a few weeks ago, cattle are now gathering at ponds and lakes, seeking relief from the heat and the biting insects.

Partly submerged, they are still tortured by flies around their head and neck.  Fortunately, local flocks of swallows take advantage of the insect swarms, filling their bellies and providing some relief for the cattle.  Yet, the swallows are not immune from attack either; as I witnessed today, prairie falcons may zero in on their flocks, hoping to pick off a swallow for lunch.

Beyond the drama at the cattle pools, I encountered a number of Mississippi kites over Hays, Kansas, my routine rest stop on the Plains.  Tomorrow I complete my journey to Colorado, where a cold front will produce near-freezing overnight temperatures early in the week; that same front is expected to ignite severe thunderstorms across the Great Plains and Midwest. 

Back from South America

Mississippi kites have returned to central Missouri after a winter in South America (primarily in southern Brazil and northern Argentina).  Usually migrating in sizable flocks, they begin to split up as they approach their summer range.

Despite their name, these kites are most abundant in the Southeastern U.S. and across the Southern Plains but some nest as far north as Iowa and Nebraska.  As I have reported in the past, they have become increasingly common in central Missouri in recent years; indeed, I saw two late yesterday afternoon.

These spectacular aerialists are best observed in the evening, when they swoop and dive to snare flying insects.  Should they land, usually in the tops of large shade trees, their whistling calls are frequently heard.  They'll stick around until September, when they begin their long journey back to the Southern Hemisphere.

See also: Whistling Kites 

A Catbird Soliloquy

 Late this morning and into the afternoon, a male gray catbird has been delivering a prolonged soliloquy of musical notes, calls and other harsh sounds from a shrub line in our backyard.  Of course, having just arrived from his wintering grounds, he is staking out his summer territory and trying his best to attract a mate.

Though he tends to remain hidden for much of the day, he does come out to search for insects in the grass before returning to his seemingly endless vocalizations.  Once he attracts a mate, a nest will be placed in the shrubbery and his soliloquies will eventually give way to the mewing sounds for which he is named.  By early autumn, his diet will shift to a mix of insects and berries and he will soon be off to the Southern U.S. or Mexico for the colder months.

Until then, this noisy but attractive summer resident is more than welcome on our property.  After all, like other insectivores, his service is far preferable to the use of toxic pesticides.

Avian Explosion at Eagle Bluffs

Now that this fabulous floodplain refuge has returned to its former glory and we are in the midst of spring, Eagle Bluffs was alive with birds this morning.  Indeed, on my two hour visit, I encountered 43 species, many of them summer residents.

Swallows (all five species), blue-winged teal, dickcissels and indigo buntings were most abundant.  Highlights included a pileated woodpecker,  American avocets, white-faced ibis and soras; the latter, usually best observed on cloudy, rainy days, were especially vocal and visible on this bright, May morning.  Eastern kingbirds and common yellowthroats were more numerous than I had expected and our common waders, great egrets and great blue herons, are gradually regaining their past summer populations.  Ironically, an immature bald eagle was the only raptor that I saw.

Though I had hoped to encounter black terns, a personal favorite, it is a bit early for those late spring migrants.  Nevertheless, my overall experience was more than rewarding and I'll continue regular visits whenever I'm in Columbia. 

A Snowstorm in May

It is not rare for snow to fall along the Colorado Front Range during the month of May.  An unruly spring jet stream, significant changes in elevation and the presence of a storm system crossing the Desert Southwest are the usual ingredients.

The current snow storm, which began yesterday, developed as a deep atmospheric trough (dip in the jet stream) allowed cold, Canadian air to drop southward along the Front Range while counterclockwise winds, around a low pressure center in New Mexico, pulled in Gulf of Mexico moisture from the Great Plains.  This upslope flow dropped two feet of snow in the mountains, a foot of snow in the foothills and rain changing to snow along the Front Range urban corridor.

This welcome moisture will likely have a limited effect on the State's drought and on Metro Denver's water shortage but it is surely welcomed by the regional flora and fauna.  Perhaps the greatest benefit of the storm will be to diminish the threat a wildfires across the eastern slope of the Front Range as the annual fire season gets underway.  Early and prolonged Southwest Monsoons and normal to heavy mountain snowpacks over the coming years are needed to end the drought.