Something Pacific

2019-06-28T05:35:00.004-07:00

New climate ‘stripes’ reveal how much hotter your hometown has gotten in the past century

A social media campaign called #ShowYourStripes is flooding the climate science community with beautiful blue and red striped barcodelike images, each of which represents more than a century of temperature data for virtually all countries and all 50 U.S. states.

You can search for the stripes (and download an image to post on a social network or blog) for your own area (countries/states, etc.) here: Ed Hawkins Show Your Stripes.
This is Washington state since 1895–2018.

Lightning Strikes the Space Needle

2017-02-28T11:20:00.001-08:00

Yesterday's weird weather mix of snow, fog, ice pellets and rain including this:

Wake Robin Trillium Ovatum

2016-05-03T09:54:00.001-07:00

Western Trillium or Wake Robin is a Pacific Northwest native flower. There are a number of different colors and species of trillium, but they all have the same basic type of flower and very similar leaves, often in threes. I’m familiar with the awkwardly named but quite lovely Wet Dog Trillium and Painted Trillium in New England. But the native PNW trillium is quite extraordinary. It has the usually three leaves, but the stalk that has the bloom grows from the center of the three leaves. It's sometimes called Wake Robin because it blooms in early spring, about when the robins return.

It starts out white; a really brilliant white, but as it ages it turns first lavender then violet:

It's fragile as a plant; this is not one whose flowers you pick, because that means it won't have seeds. The blossom eventually turns into a fleshy almost berry like seed; ants pick up the fruit when it falls, carry it to their nest, eat the spongy outer covering, and eventually evict the seed with other organic trash from their hive, giving the seed a rich compost to sprout in.

The plant also has delicate bulbs, but it's tricky to transplant; I'm hoping to find a nursery locally who will provide some plants, someday.

More Birds and Another Bunny

2016-05-01T19:25:00.000-07:00

Another bunny! Or maybe the same bunny, a little older.

And a House Sparrow, AKA English sparrow, because they're not native to North America; they're tourists. They're probably the most common of all the sparrows, and you'll find them in all 50 states, all year round, in rural or urban environments. They're friendly, social, and easily hand-tamed, in fact, they're often overly aggressive about food begging in urban areas.

House Sparrow Passer domesticus

This is the bird Chaucer had in mind when he referred to the “sparwe, Venus sone” (Parliament of Fowls, l. 551) and described the lusty Summoner “As hoot he was and lecherous as a sparwe” (General Prologue, l. 628).

They’re talkative birds, always “cheeping” when they’re feeding, or in a flock, and with a sort of chittering rattle when they’re warning off a competitor.

American Goldfinch Carduelis tristis

And here is a picture of a female Goldfinch. She's perched just below and to the side of a Finch feeder, waiting her turn. The Goldfinch is the state bird of Washington, and while they’re not rare in Winter in the Puget Sound, they’re really common in late Spring and early Summer. They’re partial to thistle seeds, which is sort of ironic since we’re ruthless about removing the various invasive thistle species. But it means we have the perfect excuse to put Nyjer and black oil sunflower seeds in feeders.

Spring was Short; it's apparently Summer

2016-04-21T11:11:00.000-07:00

Caspian Tern Photo Credit: Doug Barnum, U. S. Geological Survey. Public domain

I heard the first Caspian Tern of 2016 yesterday morning. Once you know what they sound like, you can’t mistake a Caspian Tern for anything else.

They’re migratory birds in Western Washington, arriving in Spring and leaving by Fall, so I guess Spring is here.

Eastern Cottontail

2014-04-30T19:00:00.001-07:00

We have rabbits. Specifically, we have young Eastern Cottontail rabbits (Sylvilagus floridanus). These are not native Washington rabbits; they're an introduced species. This little guy was caught in the act:

You'll notice he's small, with tiny ears still. He let me get quite close to him before he scarpered.

I think he's been scouting the garden. Measures will be taken, involving chicken wire and fences.

Male House Finch

2014-04-28T13:38:00.000-07:00

Male House finch (Carpodacus mexicanus)

This is not a bird I’ve seen much of before; just a quick glimpse once in California. But they are very similar to the Purple finch I know from New Hampshire. All three of the “roseate finches”, the House finch, Cassin’s finch, and the Purple finch are Washington birds.

Pacific Sky

2014-04-04T22:41:00.003-07:00

Spring is sprung, and while we'll still have some determined rain, this is what the Pacific sky looks like in Spring:

Geese: Flying North

2014-02-04T07:07:00.000-08:00

Every year the Canada Geese pass over the field twice; in the fall, staring in early October, and then again, in February they come back, and often, spend a few weeks in the low-lying areas where temporary ponds have accumulated.

I don't think these geese are really flying north; I think it's maybe south west?

Definitely Springing

2014-01-15T22:11:00.000-08:00

There are primroses for sale locally.

And this is tonight's sunset:

Which was followed, in surprisingly short order, by the moon rise. I didn't realize what the faint glow above the tree line was at first. But then when the moon rose, it looked so very large, and unbelievably close, closer even than the mountains.

It's January and it's Spring in the PNW

2014-01-13T11:39:00.001-08:00

There are Primroses for sale in front of the local grocery stores and Lowe's.

Here's today's weather in Seattle:

And I just took this picture a few minutes ago; those are Daffodils pushing their way through to the sun that will eventually appear, however briefly.

I love this place.

. . . And a Great Blue Heron In An Alder Tree

2013-12-14T19:31:00.000-08:00

I shouldn't complain . . .

2013-12-08T12:23:00.003-08:00

I could be living in Eastern Montana, like Kari Dell.

This is a woman who knows how to dress for winter.

I'd Like Some Warmer Weather, Thanks

2013-12-07T22:06:00.002-08:00

Seriously. I gave someone my Maine/N.H. cold weather gear because it just doesn't get that cold here, and I hadn't used it in 5 years.

So this is what I'm dealing with today. Seattle WA on the top, and balmy Westmoreland, N.H. on the bottom:

Dark-Eyed Juncos

2013-12-01T16:37:00.001-08:00

We planted a fair amount of corn this year, and some of it really wasn't worth eating; too little sun. But the birds like it just fine. We took down a lot of it in early September, and fed it to the horses, who were delighted. Then we noticed that the birds were more than happy to eat the remaining grains from the cobs and the ground.

Dark-eyed Junco

So we left a patch of stalks standing, much to the delight of the pheasants and various song birds, including this Dark Eyed Junco (Junco hyemalis).

Technically, Juncos are a Sparrow sub-species, and they're common in woods and backyard feeders throughout the 48 states. In New England, people mostly see Juncos from fall through early spring, when small flocks mob bird feeders. I used to admire Juncos for their pink beaks. The juncos in New England are the "slate" variety; the Juncos we mostly see in the Pacific Northwest are the "Oregon" variety of Junco, with darker colored hoods, dark black in males, gray in females and juveniles. They have rufous sides, brown backs, and gray wings. Like this one I took eating the corn left by the pheasants. We have had so very much fun watching the birds (all sorts of birds, sparrows, house finches, chickadees, gold finches . . .) eating the corn, that next year, we're going to deliberately plant some corn just for the birds. I'll try to get a picture of the pheasants, too. We've had as many as three gorgeous brightly colored males and two smaller females feeding in the corn stalks.

Life in the PNW: Traffic Reports

2013-10-04T10:05:00.001-07:00

New England On the West Coast

2013-10-01T11:42:00.001-07:00

I've openly acknowledged that I fell head-over-heels with the coast of Washington and Oregon almost immediately. I've felt at home in the PNW in part because much of it is so very similar to rural and coastal New England in terms of landscape, climate, and even cultures.

When we lived in Bellingham, WA, I spent a lot of time walking the Inter Urban trail, particularly, the portion of the trail that led from downtown Bellingham to Boulevard Park.

There are benches there that look out towards the Sound, and we spent a fair amount of time there watching the sea life and drinking coffee from Woods.

This is the bench in question:

Boulevard Park, Bellingham WA

A couple of months ago I was looking for pictures of Eastern Cardinals to show a friend; they're local residents in Washington, though I supposed an occasional Cardinal might be blown of course and provide an exciting sighting to some Puget Sound birder. Looking for Cardinal pictures led me to the photography of Jeff Sinon. Jeff is a New Hampshire resident, and fine photographer. He had a picture of Whaleback lighthouse, in Portsmouth, N.H. taken from a park that I immediately recognized:

I spent a lot of time there, possibly on that very bench, while at grad school at UNH. And I think the resemblance between those two pictures says a lot about at least some of the reason I felt so very comfortable at Boulevard Park. In any case, do check out Jeff Sinon's photographs. I'm particularly fond of Sinon's wildlife photos.

Pacific Tree Frog

2013-09-15T12:45:00.000-07:00

Pacific Tree frog (Pseudacris regilla) by Kjfmartin

The first time I saw a Pacific tree frog (Pseudacris regilla), I thought that my hosts had lost an earring charm or carving. It was tiny, about an inch, and a lovely rich emerald green like certain kinds of jade or very dark chrysoprase. It was in the grass, hopping away from my heavy treads, and it disappeared too quickly for me to take a picture. The males are slightly smaller than the females and have the dark spot on their throats that balloons when they call. Both sexes have a dark mask or stripe across their eyes.

While I've only ever seen the brilliant green version, the Pacific tree frog can change it's color over time, not as a chameleon does based on it's background, but based on the season. They have long toes with little sticky pads on them, which is how they climb (not just trees, but walls and sliding glass doors, too). Their call is the inspiration for the standard "ribbit" of a frog, and used in lots of movies set in climes where the Pacific tree frog is not a native. They're sometimes called the Pacific chorus frog because of their call. They're fairly common from Northern California, up to Oregon and Washington, and then along the British Columbia coast. Technically, the Pacific tree frog is further divided into three subspecies: the Northern pacific tree frog (Pseudacris regilla regilla), the Sierran tree frog (Pseudacris regilla sierra), and the Baja California tree frog with the odd Latin name of Pseudacris regilla hypochondria.

Curly Dock

2013-08-25T13:32:00.000-07:00

Curly dock or Rumex crispus (AKA "Sour dock" is a native of Europe and parts of Asia; not of North America. Whether it arrived in Western Washington via a deliberate decision on the part of people who valued the spring leaves as food, or for the purported health benefits of parts of the plant, Curly dock is regarded as an invasive weed. The seeds are durable, plentiful and attach themselves to animal hair and human clothing, and then spread rapidly. When it first appears in spring, it's a low flat plant with broad leaves. When it flowers, tall spikes sprout in summer, with tightly furled "flowers"; these turn into brown seed spikes in late summer and early fall.

Curly dock likes pastures a lot, and can quickly take over, forcing out the grasses and native plants used by cows and horses as fodder. Consequently, for the second sumer in a row, I've been diligently removing Curly dock, either by cutting the stems and bagging them, or digging up the roots. The plants can spread not only via the seeds (as many as 6,000 per plant) but via cloning from root fragments, so this isn't something you do once and then forget. I'll be removing them for several more years.

Killdeer

2013-08-18T07:11:00.000-07:00

Killdeer Charadrius vociferus

This is a killdeer, which people from Montana call a Killdee. They’re named for their cry, which sounds like "Killdeer Killdeer."

Nightshade and Tomatoes

2013-08-12T16:11:00.000-07:00

I've written about Solanum dulcamara or Bittersweet nightshade before. It's on the official list of Noxious weeds in Washington because it's poisonous, though it's not one that property owners are required to remove. Nonetheless, because of the potential threat to humans, we remove it when we see it. Because it's spread by birds eating the red berries (each of which contains numerous seeds) and because it can also spread from root fragments or suckers resulting in a vine that winds its way through Elder and Blackberry hedges, it's very hard to get rid of.

It struck me recently, in my efforts to remove Bitter Nightshade, that as a member of the botanical family Solanaceae, which includes the more notorious and dangerous Datura, Mandrake (Mandragora), and Bittersweet Nightshade's nastier cousin Deadly Nightshade (Atropa belladonna). The humble Bitter Nightshade is additionally a cousin of potatoes (Solanum tuberosum), tobacco (Nicotiana), petunias (Petunia), peppers, both sweet and chili (Capsicum), as well as Chinese lanterns, ground cherries and tomatillos (Physalis), and even eggplants (Solanum melongena).

Solanum lycopersicum, the tomato, is also a member of the family. You can really see that if you look at the blossoms of Bittersweet Nightshade, and an ordinary Cherry Tomato plant; ignore the color, just look at the shape of the blossoms.

Cherry Tomato Blossoms

Bittersweet Nightshade

Summer Sunset

2013-08-11T21:39:00.000-07:00

Today would have been my Dad's 94th birthday. He would have loved this sunset. I know he lived in Oregon for a while with my mom, but I don't think he ever made it to Washington.

Caspian Tern

2013-08-04T21:43:00.000-07:00

Caspian Tern by Dmitry Mikhirev

Shortly after I moved to Western Washington and the Puget Sound area, I started hearing a bird call that sounded like a cross between a rusty metal gate and a cat in heat. I only saw the bird in question in flight, and the shape of its wings looked very much like a tern to me, but I'd never heard anything like the sound these birds made.

They generally are in small groups, never single, and seemed especially active near the water at dusk and dawn. Since I only ever see them in flight, at the limits of my visual acuity, I kept trying to find a bird that made that particular sound.

One evening a few weeks ago I saw three or for of them come towards me from the bay, herding a beleaguered Bald eagle in front of them. As they got closer to our yard, the eagle kept angling lower and lower, low enough that I could see individual feathers in his wings. He managed to evade the birds, who complained loudly the entire time, and fly off.

I have now located a recording of the mysterious call, and identified the bird; it’s a Caspian Tern, or Hydroprogne caspia. They're fairly common all over the world, including in Washington. The recording on this page is not quite as raucous as they sound, but it's close enough.

Spring Flowers Elsewhere

2013-05-30T11:27:00.000-07:00

I love the seasons in western Washington, even spring with the alteration of rain and sun extremes. But I do miss some of the signs of spring I am familiar with from New Hampshire. Sure, the robins are here, and while the robins are larger than I'm used to, they're unquestionably robins. But I confess to missing some of the spring flowers of New England. Not the snow drops, the crocus and the daffodils, or even the lilacs. I miss the bluets (Houstonia caerulea). These are tiny little flowers, consisting of four petals with a faint blue or lavender cast, and a yellow center. They are truly diminutive, the stems are never more than 1/2 inch high, and the flowers are about the size of an aspirin, or smaller. They grow in old pastures, or at the edges of lawns, where they appear in spring, looking rather like a flower carpet.

Trailing arbutus

I also miss the trailing arbutus (Epigaea repens). There was a cemetery down the road from where I grew up that was started in the late 1700s and was still accepting graves in the 1980s. Every May the lawn was covered with the star-shaped waxy blossoms of Mayflowers, as they were known locally. The plant itself is a trailing vine that grows close to the ground, with fragrant evergreen leaves. I was told by a neighbor (born before World War I) that when she was a teen, people would pick "sacks full" of the greens and blossoms to be sold to "rich folks" from New York and Boston. I know that it was also used in the herbal trade, or at least the leaves were, as a treatment for UTIs with some dangerous side effects. Trailing arbutus only grows on the Eastern half of the United States, so I won't be seeing it in the Pacific Northwest. It's listed as endangered in several states, possibly because of earlier exploitation.

Red Trillium

Painted trillium

In the woods, along the wetter borders of the stream in early summer, say late May or early June, we could find purple or red trillium (Trillium erectum) locally known as Wet dog trillium (because that's what it smells like). The root of red trillium was said by some of the older women to be useful in a tea to alleviate menstrual cramps, We also had painted trillium (Trillium undulatum), but I've seen those growing here in Washington.

We didn't pick the trilliums, but we did pick the native wild violets (Viola sororia), short-stemmed, violet-colored petals, that had

yellow centers and grew prolifically along the banks of streams or near old farmhouses. Wild violets can spread via their root tubers, or through seed, so sometimes a small patch in a flower bed or the edge of a lawn will spread and dot your lawn with bright patches of color. Some gardeners hate wild violets for that reason; others will carefully transplant them to a bed of violets. I've discovered that this variety of wild violet does occur naturally in the Pacific Northwest; Scott Fisher's photograph was taken in Oregon. Quite often a "sport" white violet will appear, and then propagate. Scott Fisher's second photo shows that happening. We were never so lucky. Violets are quite edible, by the way, and not just as sugared violets.

In the woods, near marshy areas, there were wild yellow violets. The eastern roundleaf yellow violet (Viola rotundifolia) was not common, but it was one of the first flowers to appear after all the snow was gone. A month or so later, in late May, in the former yards of long ago no longer extant houses, I could find the longer-stemmed white-petaled purple-striped violets like these that Tony Alter photographed in Virginia.

Oh, and pink lady slippers (Cypripedium acaule), the white ones (var. alba), and the larger and less common showy lady slipper (Cypripedium reginae) (which is protected) and the rarer yellow Lady slippers (small yellow lady’s-slipper (Cypripedium parviflorum, and the large yellow lady’s-slipper Cypripedium pubescens)—I don't think any of them are native here in Washington, though we had all four lady slipper varieties in New Hampshire. Lady slippers or Moccasin flower as it's sometimes called is an orchid. The pink Lady slipper is the state flower of New Hampshire, and fairly common. You'll find it in dry semi-shade areas under pine or birch trees. Even as a child, I knew lady slippers were not to be picked, not so much because of a law, but because as orchids lady slippers don't spread rapidly.

Wild strawberry blossom

But I think the sign of official arrival of summer for me was the appearance of the tiny but intensely flavored native wild strawberry, sometimes called alpine strawberries or woodland straw berries (Fragaria vesca). I would notice the wild strawberry blossoms, bright white flowers with yellow stamens, shining against the darker leaves in late May and early June, and would mark the spot as a place to return to when the berries ripened in June and early July. Growing up, locals told me that the first full moon in June was the strawberry moon, and meant it was time to start picking.

Wild strawberry fruit

Wild strawberries grew on trailing runners all over the pastures and open fields were I grew up. They're often found along roadsides, and berries on plants that are exposed to sun are sweeter. I could easily pick a quart or so a day by alternating between patches, and my father made wild strawberry and strawberry-mango ice cream with those that I managed to avoid consuming. There's a link between the European variety of wild strawberries and the native North American wild strawberries in that a hybrid of the two types resulted in the first cultivated variety. UNH has been working with other botanists and geneticists to sequence the wild strawberry. I'm delighted to discover that there are several varieties of wild strawberries that are native in the Pacific Northwest.

Ring-Necked Pheasant, Reprise

2013-04-24T10:01:00.000-07:00