2008 May Archive at Beside the Stream

Archive for May, 2008

A pair of Two-tailed Swallowtails

Published on May 30, 2008 in Insects and what they eat. 4 Comments

I put a bag of composted cotton bolls around some newly transplanted poppies, and gave the area a good soaking. As soon as I was done, a pair of two-tailed swallowtails arrived and settled onto the compost.

Can you see that long proboscis? The butterfly wasn’t looking for nectar, or for fresh water. It wanted that dank old compost water.

Here’s another probocis shot. This butterfly was working it for a long time. He pushed and poked with his probocis, angling to get more of that compost juice.

A second one arrived, and the two of them stayed close together and seemed to thoroughly enjoy their treat.

I’m sure I’ll get over this fascination with probocises at some point, but here’s two at once. And look how segmented that antennae is!

They flew off together, circling each other, and then they were gone.

Trees swept downstream

Published on May 30, 2008 in riparian edge and water. 2 Comments

We think of streams and rivers as fixed features of the landscape, but they’re not. Trees continually fall into the water because the banks are always moving laterally (unless the streambed is artificially restrained by riprap or levees). A river is constantly shifting because of the way water flows.

Water that flows in a river moves like a corkscrew, twisting in on itself. Water flowing at the bottom of the river is slower because of the friction between the water and the riverbed, while the water on top flows faster. When a river bends, the faster water on the surface pushes against the outer banks and dumps trees into the waterways, while the slower siltier water at the bottom slips to the inner bank and drops some of its sand or gravel.

Most of the waterways we see are controlled by dams, where the high flows are moderated and the trunks are removed from the river. Here we have a natural stream in the spring, sweeping great trees downstream.

This is near the start of our walk, with tree trunks piled at the point of this little instream island.

Next we have this log caught midstream a wee bit upriver.

Big logs collect smaller logs and branches,

and you can see that the water was much higher a few days ago, when the flow around the near side of this tree caught a bole and a lot of small branches.

By midsummer, this torrent of snowmelt will have faded to a babbling brook. This huge trunk will be immovable… until next spring shifts it downstream again. By nature, a stream is a messy, trunk-littered path.

Chick update

Published on May 29, 2008 in birds. 3 Comments

The chicks are turning into chickens.

I felt a little odd about raising them to eat until I thought of James Dean: Live fast, die young, and leave a beautiful corpse. No harm in a short life, I thought, so long as it was really great. So I’ve been adding chicken toys to the coop.

They have a stump to crow on, and a ramp to climb up.

They have a tunnel to walk through, and Sam just made them a swing to swing on.

I’m all for environmental enrichment for the chickens, and they seem happy as can be.

Ducks and a goose

Published on May 28, 2008 in birds. 2 Comments

Yampa the goose had a sad ending: some animal, maybe a bobcat, decapitated her and buried both parts under a pile of leaves. After the humans found and reburied her, there was the problem of Lillo (now lonely). The ducklings and the goose were moved into a pen together, and are shut inside at night.

Lillo is acting like a Mom to the ducklings, herding them, bossing them, and fiercely protecting them. When I entered their pen, Lillo attacked and I ran. To take pictures, I had to keep her at bay with a branch (hence the leaves).

Steve says he has PTGD–Post Traumatic Goose Disorder–from being goose-bit one too many times. These days he’s a little jumpy, and I don’t trust that bird at all.

The ducks are very content, though. The goose watches them, and they watch the goose.

They’re almost big enough for the pond,

except for that wildcat.

The Iron Horse Criterium

Published on May 26, 2008 in Small town life. 5 Comments

Every year on Memorial Day weekend a big pack of cyclists race the train from Durango to Silverton, 50 miles and three mountain passes away. The Iron Horse Bicycle Classic has become a famous race over the years, and top cyclists come to compete in it. This year the women’s field included a few Olympic hopefuls, and a cyclist who has competed in every summer Olympics since 1980. The main event was cancelled because of snow–first time ever–so people competed in a Criterium on Sunday and a time trial on Monday.

My beautiful niece Katie, who skied in two Olympics, took up cycling a few years ago and is very good at it. Whenever there is a big cycling event in town, she stays with us while she races. I love to see her, but I never understood why she wanted to spend her time off work travelling to compete–she’s not trying to beat someone else, or to become a world champion. But these pictures showed me something I hadn’t understood before.

The pro women raced for forty-five minutes around a course set through Durango’s downtown; I took photos each time they rode by. The cyclists are going so fast that I couldn’t really see what was going on until I looked at the pictures later… and then I saw why she was out there.

I think she’s racing because of the way that it makes her feel inside. She’s totally focused on this moment, this curve,

calm, and fully engaged.

For those 45 minutes, she was a pure being.

It was like a Pow Wow with less stylish costumes.

Things that look alike

Published on May 25, 2008 in Appearances. 1 Comment

This is a dawn photo of the chicken palace in snow and rain

and this is Claude Monet’s Haystacks in Snow and Rain.

The light in the sky above the chicken palace is like the light above Monet’s haystacks–two studies of the luminosity of snow and rain.

At least, it looked that way to me.

Snow again

Published on May 24, 2008 in gardening. 2 Comments

Knock knock-

Who’s there?

Aren-

Aren who?

Aren’t you glad you didn’t have snow this morning?

Native bumble bees

Published on May 22, 2008 in Insects and what they eat. 4 Comments

Two native bumble bees were working on the catmint. Does anyone know what kind?

They don’t do in-air refueling, like the Sphinx moth. Instead of a long proboscis and fast wings, they land

bumblebee tongue

and hang from the blossoms as they stick their head right into the flowers.

They climb all over the flower spike, and put their heads deep into places that a lot of other pollinators have already been before. They’re really working these flowers, who frankly look a little tired.

And here’s a photo so beautiful it leaves me without words.

Hope you have a nice Friday!

High water

Published on May 22, 2008 in Small town life and water. 2 Comments

The Animas flooded its banks today,

and with the high water I went to Smelter Rapids, the town’s best white water.

It was big water today, one of the highest flow days of the year. There was one kayaker out there, and maybe twenty people watching.

Can you see the joy?

The balancing of immense forces? This guy is likely Olympic caliber–there are a lot of world champion and Olympic kayakers living here

and I assumed everyone was there to watch his perfect form. Instead,

the main attraction was a group of four commercial rafts due at 2:15. Two rafts made it through intact, one raft lost and recovered a passenger, one raft flipped…

and it was really entertaining.

Planting Leeks

Published on May 20, 2008 in gardening. 1 Comment

Our last frost date is June 1, so in May we’re able to put out the leeks and onions, broccoli and cabbages (the Alliums and Brassicas, if you’re feeling latinate).

Bob and Rick built raised beds the same day they bent the cattleguard for the chicken palace.

The onions went in a few days ago–I had started about 100 sets in 6-packs–and the leeks are ready to be planted today.

The Musselburgh leeks are about 7 weeks old, and they’re very slender.

Since I had been thinking of Roy Roy eating these leeks, I followed British instructions to plant them.

They called for a trenched and dibbled bed (6″ deep trenches dibbled an additional 4″ deep). They helpfully explained that if you don’t have a dibble, you can use a hoe handle.

Dibble isn’t a word I see much, but it dates to Rob Roy’s time …[Origin: 1325–75; late Middle English]

dib·ble /ˈdɪbəl/ [dib-uhl] noun, verb, -bled, -bling.

–noun

1. a small, hand-held, pointed implement for making holes in soil for planting seedlings, bulbs, etc.

–verb (used with object)

2. to make a hole (in the ground) with or as if with a dibble.

3. to set (plants) in holes made with a dibble.

–verb (used without object)

4. to work with a dibble.

A Dibble Tool

I used my hoe handle, since dibbles aren’t standard tools here, and the leeks look as happy in their bed as if it were laid by a Scotswoman using her grandmother’s own dibble.

As it turns out, leeks are lot older than dibblers and Rob Roy. They are from the Bronze Age–perhaps 3,000 to 4,000 years ago. By the time of the Roman Empire, leeks were commonplace.

Nero, the Roman emperor, loved to eat leeks. He ate them every day (some sources say he ate leeks cooked in oil, and others say he ate leek soup). His nickname Porrophagus means “leek eater”, and it is said that he believed leeks improved the timbre of his voice.

As a nickname, I think Porrophagus is right up there with Stinky.

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