These little flitters are commonly found in temperate zones throughout the entire northern hemisphere. That said, they possess a very uncommon trait that sets them apart from all other birds in existence.  Nuthatches are the only species to have evolved the specialized ability to “walk” upside down as well as face-first down a tree trunk!

If you’re making your way through the forest and you hear a sort-of “light-hearted laugh” coming to you from the trees above, you might want to stop and enjoy a little entertainment.  This is one of the calls of the nuthatch easiest to distinguish as they forage. When you do finally see them, they may well be making their way down to you, headfirst.

While there are other birds who forage upside down (our mountain chickadees are QUITE adept), they merely do so by hanging from a branch, then letting go and flying to their next spot.  Nuthatches on the other hand move fluidly along branches and trunks, both up and down, face-first.  This unique ability is made possible by a combination of specialized anatomical traits. 

Most birds have evolved to have 4 “toes”, three facing forward and one facing back.  The only difference found with 4-toed birds are owls and osprey, who have evolved the ability to shift one of their 3 front toes to the back for better grip of prey.  This back-facing 4^th toe, sometimes referred to as the “big toe”, is called a hallux. 

The configurations and size of the hallux vary from species to species. Water birds have them, but due to more limited use it has evolved to be quite small compared to perching birds.  Some land-based species have lost them altogether, lacking the need to grip a perch.  Ostriches took the extra step in evolving down to only 2 toes and no hallux.

With nuthatches, the hallux has evolved to be longer and more prominent than the other 3 toes, accompanied by a longer claw.  This allows them to maintain a firm grip on the tree bark they are navigating. It provides much better support while performing inverted movement, especially when facing downwards.

Two other specializations are also involved with this talent.  Many birds tend to use their long tails braced against a trunk or branch for balance and stability (woodpeckers are a great example).  Nuthatches wet the opposite direction and evolved a shorter tail allowing for improved freedom of movement.  Other more subtle specializations are a shortened neck and small, rounded body.  This allows for a “tucked” and much lower center of gravity necessary for their inverted travel.

Most other birds tend to perform a sort of extended hop when moving from place to place during a tree forage.   Nuthatches use their larger hallux to better hold onto their position allowing them to “walk” along the bark, moving each foot independently.  The hallux and claw combo provides a strong grip by one foot as the other moves forward while inverted. For a faster descent, they may also hop down face-first, but again, the specialized hallux provides an excellent anchor to stop when needed.

As a former rock climber, this reminds me of what is known as an Australian Rappel (or Aussie Abseil).  Rappelling is a common descent technique where one lowers on the rope in large “bounces” down a cliff face.  The Aussie style is a high-adrenaline version where one faces towards the ground as opposed to feet first.

While we don’t know for certain why they evolved this unique movement behavior, it is generally thought to allow them the ability to locate bugs in their tree-bark terrain that other birds who hunt the same tree can’t see.  Along that line of logic, it also allows them to stash seeds in places other birds may not find later. 

If you’re out looking for this behavior, it’s helpful to know that nuthatches are often found foraging with chickadees and juncos.  As a team working in different areas of a tree and the surrounding ground, this allows for multiple sets of eyes in different places all looking out for possible danger to the mixed flock.  Once found, have a seat and enjoy a spectacular display of acrobatics accompanied by the joyful laughs and titters as they chatter among themselves (possibly about you!).

Originally published in The Mountain-Ear

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As of article publication, we are deep in the season of new life coming into the world, and a big one happening right now is the calving of our moose neighbors.  I thought it might be apropos to focus this week’s article on a couple helpful safety measures.

In general, moose are statistically the most dangerous animal we have as neighbors here in Colorado.  That said, in my own experience with these majestic creatures, the ones to watch out for are the mamas.  This isn’t to say that precautions can be tossed into the winds with bulls, but simply that you are far more likely to have a negative experience with a cow, especially if she has offspring in tow.

While elk and mule deer tend to be more reclusive of humans in general, moose don’t hold the same apprehensions.  This extends to birthing, where a cow may well choose a human yard or near a hiking trail as a safe spot to commence the act.  This requires extra vigilance on our part to minimize potential problems.

If a yard is chosen, it is of paramount importance to be aware of her and the baby’s location when coming and going or simply letting the dog(s) out to play.  As they may stick around for a few days after the baby is born, this is not a creature that is easily “shooed away”, so be prepared to change your routine a little to accommodate until they move on.

If out on a trail, it is always imperative to keep a sharp eye out any time of the year, but in calving season, it can mean the difference of a great morning or a potential trip to the hospital.  Even on trails where it is permissible to have a dog on voice command  and off leash, keeping them restrained and leashed should be a top priority. 

A dog (or dogs) off leash running amuck as they love to do may well rile up a mama who is bedded down with her baby and unseen by you while hiking by.  A moose will likely see a dog as too close to a wolf (one of their only major predators aside from grizzly bears and humans) and a threat, but it is more likely that the moose will charge the human.  Like the adage about avoiding an attack by a bear simply by hiking with slower people, the dog is far more likely to run away and avoid contact, leaving you as the next biggest threat to mama.

Last summer I found the mama and baby in the accompanying photograph in the West Magnolia area.  Mama was bedded down and mostly content, but it was surprising to me how close she chose to be to a heavily trafficked trail.  They were only 20 yards or less away from the trail, but tucked in and unseen by everyone passing by.  As mentioned above, they don’t go far during the first week after birth, but I would have thought she’d have chosen a spot a little further from humans. 

Thankfully, while I was present, the folks who did have dogs kept them leashed, but it was obvious from the dog’s behavior that they knew there was something big nearby that needed sniffing and investigating.  It could well have turned very dangerous very quickly for all involved had they been off leash. 

Because a baby can’t move far, know that a riled-up mama is not likely to leave after a bad encounter.  While you may be following all the precautions listed above, and even hiking or biking alone, if you run into her in this state, you may become an unintended victim. 

A couple of years ago there was a situation that ended up as a violent attack by a mama near a trail. Things apparently got dicey with an early morning hiker who ended up using pepper spray to deter her.  Time passed, but mama hadn’t, and it was another person not involved in any way who paid the price.  She was already furious, and another human was simply the last thing she needed, and she let loose in a bad way.

All of that said, watching babies in the wild is an incredible treat, and these gangly and wobbly ones are no exception.  Just pay extra attention when you’re out and about.  Be prepared to give an even wider berth than usual, and keep those doggos leashed.  Otherwise, find a safe spot, sit back, and get ready to have your heart melted.

Originally published in The Mountain-Ear

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Back in February I wrote the article, Shackin’ Up In the Winter, talking about the mating habits of our vulpine neighbors.  Those of you who follow my social media accounts have recently been enjoying some over-the-top adorable photographic evidence of the fruits of those behaviors!

A couple weeks ago I received a text from a friend with a wonderful surprise in the way of an invitation to photograph a den in a neighbor’s yard.  Without haste, I headed over with camera in tow to check out the layout, ambient lighting, and general photo-pertinent details of the area. I also met the homeowners who graciously invited me to capture images from inside the perimeter of their large yard (mind you, still keeping a safe distance). 

In speaking with the friend who initially invited me, as well as the homeowners, I learned that there are 7 kits in this litter.  That said, the family situation has an interesting twist that I was not aware of taking place in the fox world.  This litter is being cared for by 2 females in a behavior known as alloparenting.

This behavior is common among many herd and pack animals, with the community sharing the duties of raising the young.  I had not previously known that smaller, intimate families such as foxes practiced this as well.  Sometimes it happens with sister siblings, and other times, as is the case of this den, it is a mother and daughter from a previous litter.

In some cases, there is only one mother with the other female simply helping with the rearing. In the case of this den, it seems that both females were expecting. Five of the kits have a similar size and coat, while the other two are significantly smaller with darker coats, likely the offspring of the smaller daughter. 

While foxes are not monogamous for life, typically the father stays with the den to help with hunting and general parenting.  In this situation, while the homeowners have mentioned seeing the male, he doesn’t make regular appearances.  It seems the two mothers are doing quite well at sharing the den duties as well as the necessary endless hunting to feed 7 hungry little mouths.  It is unknown if he is the father of both sets of kits, as mixed parentage is common with alloparenting dens.

I have yet to capture any images of both females in a single image, as they understandably are not often together.  In fact, I’ve only personally seen both females present at the den on one occasion as they arrived from an early evening hunt to check in on the littles.  After dropping off an unknown dinner, a bit of nuzzling and snuggling, and herding the babies from straying too far, they both left again to resume their evening endeavors. 

Even in the case of that one evening, at no time were they in close enough proximity to each other to allow for a “group photo”.  While one was giving motherly love, the other was distant, keeping an eye out for danger as well as rounding up the littles straying too far from the den for Mom’s comforts and feelings of safety, all while furtively searching the yard for an easy vole or bird.

The photo shared here is the younger of the two mothers whom I only met after a few visits.  My friend and the homeowners both mentioned she seemed injured or ill (or both) in early sightings.  This may have simply been due to possibly being her first litter and needing some additional time to regain her strength after giving birth. 

She now seems to have recovered and shows signs of good health and energy.  In fact, when it comes to nursing, I’ve only seen the elder mother shun the littles when they attempt to suckle, where the younger mother seems to openly allow all seven at once as seen here. Once again, life in nature has shown me that there is always something wonderful to learn about life on this grand and amazing planet. I greatly look forward to watching this family grow over the next month or so before the kits leave!   If you want to follow along and have your heart crushingly melted with overwhelmingly adorable, floofy cuteness (and mayhem), check out James DeWalt Photography on Facebook, or JamesDeWalt8500 on Instagram!

Originally published in The Mountain-Ear

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They’re here!  A few weeks ago, reports started trickling in along the front range, the small first wave of Broad-Tailed hummingbirds had arrived (or were at least passing through on their way further north).  Within days, sightings (and ears caught by that famous wing drone) came in from spots along the Peak-to-Peak.  As of publication of this article, the first permanent residents are now fully settled in and regularly hitting the feeders!

While many have stated that they are unseasonally early, I’m not so sure that is the case.  Without digging deep in the photo vaults, I do feel as though they are about “on-time”, and while maybe a few days to a week or so earlier than average, not something to cause alarm.

The main reasons for migration instigation tend to be theorized as food scarcity, the need of optimal nesting areas for breeding, and the most understood factor (and a reason for much of nature’s seasonal changes in life patterns with animals), available daylight.  An increase in daily sunlight acts as a sign to make moves, and likely triggers hormones that signify the impending time to breed. 

Being a newer concept in the timeline of scientific study of birds, climate change may well be a factor as well, but that has yet to be considered a definitive cause for the movement.  Regardless of the cause, they are here relatively on schedule, signifying another step in the signs of spring’s return to the mountains. 

Know that while the term is commonly used, there is no such thing as a “scout” when it comes to these first arrivals.  No bird (or any other creature for that matter) is going to travel thousands of miles to “inspect” conditions, then head all the way back to let the others know all is okay to migrate, and then make a third trip back with the “flock”. 

For those new to the area, it also bears noting that these arrivals are typically not adversely affected by our weather.  While it does seem counter-intuitive for a bird that spends its winter in the tropics to arrive in the often still-chilly and snowy mountains, these things are par for the course.  They’ve been making this trip and enduring mountain spring snowstorms far longer than we humans.  Some species happily settle as far north as British Columbia and Alaska for breeding, so we’re a cakewalk compared to that far north.

The birds utilize a common “tool” for surviving the colder nights known as torpor.  This is a temporary state of hibernation whereby they slow their heart rate and metabolism down dramatically and fall into a deep slumber to get through the night.  As the sun rises and warms them back up, they awaken and return to their normal activity.

While I have yet to witness it myself, they do sometimes comically fall upside down in their deep sleep.  The tendon locking mechanisms in their tiny feet keep them gripped to their perch, and they simply hang upside down like miniscule bats until warmed back into the awakened state.

As a note of reference of this incredible tenacity, the attached photo was captured in May 18^th of 2017, well after the main bulk of the migration had arrived.  We had received a late-spring storm that brought as much as 4 feet in some places.  It was quite surreal shoveling off the deck and clearing the feeders every few hours to the buzz of well over 100 birds trying to keep their inner warmth up with food.

For myself, it was yet another amazing indicator of the stunning hardiness (with a touch of crazy) of such a diminutive creature. I mean, who in their right mind travels thousands of miles “on foot” from a tropical utopia to a land still gripped by the last of winters clutching grasp?  A great example of the age-old adage for mountain living, we’re all here because we’re not all there…  (and because it IS paradise!)

Originally published in The Mountain-Ear

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Big cats tend to take the spotlight when it comes to talking of our local feline neighbors (for good reasons due to their sometimes-nefarious behavior).  This week I wanted to look at the smaller (and generally less problematic) cousin, the bobcat.

Bobcats are quite common throughout the Peak-to-Peak region and greater front range, but like their larger relatives, they prefer a life of human avoidance.  That said, they are statistically more common to see than mountain lions, and in my experience, tend to be more aloof as opposed to embracing the strict human avoidance lions tend to display.

I’ve always equated their behavior towards us to that of a house cat.  It’s not so much that they detest us and avoid us at all costs, as much as having an attitude of us being a nuisance to be ignored as much as possible.  You are in their house, no matter what you may think of them lounging in a sunny spot on your deck or driveway.

They can range from 8-30 lbs, so not a large animal to contend with if encountered.  They are also typically not a threat to humans (but will fight if cornered or they feel trapped).  While there are accounts, they are also typically not a large threat to our pets.  They can and may take down a cat, or less likely, a dog, but their preferred meal is rabbit, with rodents and birds being a close second place.  On rare occasions they have also been known to take down small deer.

Bobcats have established territories in a wide variety of ecosystems throughout North America and can be found in all contiguous states in the U.S. aside from Delaware (I’m sure there is a good story on their part behind the why of that interesting tidbit…).  Preferring to avoid deep snow, Alaska is not to their liking, and apparently none have ever stowed away on a boat to Hawaii.

Sightings of these elusive neighbors often lead to a common discussion, was it a bobcat or a lynx.  Know that the lynx is typically not found anywhere on the front range.  They tend to prefer life above 10k’, mainly sticking to the central mountains and the San Juans where re-introduction programs have proved quite successful.  That said, the entire state population of lynx is estimated to only be around 70-100, where bobcats are assumed to have numbers between 10-20k, narrowing the odds of a sighting being a lynx even further.

If you happen to be traveling in the state and see one of the two, there are a few tells that give away which kitty is which.  The easiest to spot (mainly because they may well be making their way away from you) is the tail.  Both are stunted (as opposed to the longer tail of most cats), but the lynx tail is all black, and the bobcat tail is only black on the top, and white on the bottom, often with black stripes as well.

Further, lynx paws are dramatically larger, a requirement for navigating those deep mountain snows.  Bobcat paws are more proportional to their body size, like a housecat.  Head hair is also a tell, with lynx having slightly longer and prominent ear tufts, and much more defined sideburns. Think Martin Van Buren as our lynx vs a bit more distinguished John Quincy Adams as the bobcat (for those missing the historic reference, just know that MVB embraced quite the “Wow” factor in his facial coiffure). 

If either cat (or any big cat) is spotted, you are entitled to feel quite lucky in your encounter.  You can certainly attempt the human luring technique utilized in this article’s title; however, you should expect the same smug indifference you might see from your housecat or the bob version in the image accompanying the article.  They could likely care less…

Originally published in The Mountain-Ear

Sources:
https://cpw.state.co.us/species/bobcat 
https://www.boulderaudubon.org/articles/boulder-bobcats 
https://cpw.state.co.us/species/lynx

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While we barely dipped our toes into a traditional Rocky Mountain winter this year, the transition is upon us.  Spring is beginning in earnest, and the change is upon us.

Here in the foothills, some of the earliest signs have already been spotted. The first Pasque flowers have begun showing their demure blooms.  I am also hearing a few familiar birdsongs in my willows that denote the turning towards warmer days ahead.

After my first sighting of some locally sourced photos of the mountain bluebirds returning, I headed out the next day and found my own first pair.  Often returning to the same nesting territories every year, I’m sure this cerulean couple was quite familiar with the paparazzi outside their cozy nesting box.

In my morning scroll of the socials before I dove into writing this article, I saw a post with images of a pair of ospreys returned to their nest in the southern regions of the state. Some of you know well how much I enjoy these amazing hawks and their fishing. I still hold hopes another pair decides to settle into the popularly viewed platform along the county line.

Moose antlers are shed and the new sets are already beginning to poke their nubby little heads from their pedicles.  The elk are not too far behind, with some already having lost theirs, and others getting ready to be rid of last year’s remnants.

A little PSA to the newcomers to the area, this time of year also sees an increase in moose around town.  For the next 6-8 weeks we may see them frequently in town and around our homes. They are commonly found foraging for the new, tasty shoots on the willows and aspens, as well as the sweet non-native grasses of human lawns.

As I’ve mentioned before, the mammals in general are showing that familiar “bed-head” look.  Winter coats coming off unabashedly, and the new, sleek coats of summer are starting to grow in.

Other signs are a little more concerning.  As I write, I see we are expecting weekend temperatures to hit 90 degrees down below.  That kind of sign denotes a jump completely past spring and a dive directly into the heart of summer.

The little creek that runs through the yard is running at a very moderate level.  Snowpack is at a frighteningly low level.  Where these warmer temperatures would normally bring the exuberant voice of the laughing waters through town, it seems but a murmur.

The great prognosticator of weather and the seasons, The Farmers Almanac, is calling for warmer than average temperatures extending into early fall throughout the west.  Sadly, this is coupled with lower-than-average expected rainfall.  We know all too well the potential issues that arise with these conditions.

They have been known to be wrong.  Whether it’s thoughts, prayers, or whatever it is you might do to lean energy towards a positive goal, let’s all get out there and do our part. I vote for community rain dances and whatever else it might take to convince Mother Nature to send some loving moisture our way.

For now, I look forward to more signs of the seasons.  We are incredibly blessed to enjoy first-hand many of these transitions.  From wildlife to wildflowers, our little slice of paradise is putting on a beautiful show you don’t want to miss!

Originally published in The Mountain-Ear

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Emerging from winter is often symbolized by a scruffy and unkempt look due to being pent up in the cabin for months. So too does our wildlife carry a similar raggedy look as they transition from winter to summer coats. One species that tends to gain the most attention is our moose, sometimes seen with alarmingly whitened and patchy fur.

No, this is not a normal stage of their shed, nor is it mange or disease. It is also not a cause for a call to CPW to come check on the health and well-being of the animal. It is the result of a long winter of dealing with a nasty parasite known as the winter tick.

While these ticks can affect several different species of critters, moose tend to be the most common host. This is likely due to their size and ability to maintain a food source for the entire winter.

Many different types of ticks tend to utilize multiple hosts for each stage of their life cycle. Winter ticks differ in that they remain on the same host animal for their entire feeding existence.

Eggs begin hatching in the late summer and early fall, with larvae climbing vegetation in search of a passing host.  Once found, they will transition throughout winter to their nymph (mid-life) stage, and then into adulthood.  By early spring they maximize their feeding just before dropping off.  They will then return to the leaf litter and pine duff to lay their eggs for the next fall before dieing.

Infestations can number into the tens of thousands on a single moose. As we know well, a tick’s food is blood. The older they get, the more they consume, which can be extremely detrimental to the life of the moose. 

Massive blood loss is commonly followed by malnutrition and weight loss. At the same time the ticks are feeding the most in the late winter to prepare for egg laying, the moose’s forage has its lowest nutritional value.  This adds a much more difficult hurdle to recovery and can often spell the demise of younger animals.

Once the body runs out of fat stores, it turns to muscle mass for sustenance.  Calves with larger infestations can lose up to 30% of their body weight, and by spring can reach mortality levels of loss. Adults tend to fare better, with greater weight and muscle mass from which the ticks and body can feed on.

Another mortality factor is due to the incessant itchiness of it all. The irritation of the ticks causes the moose to scratch, sometimes incessantly.  This begins the process of hair loss, which can prove fatal in the winter.  By spring, the loss is such that they can rub down to bare skin, and white fur is the resulting broken and dead underlayer laid bare from endless scratching.

Thankfully, most adults seen at this stage will recover.  The ticks will soon fall off and they will finally be able to begin their recovery, usually returning to normal health. By early summer they are showing off their shiny new summer coat.

Here in Colorado, infestations are common, but thankfully nowhere near as detrimental to the overall population.  In New England, the infestations have caused mortality rates in calves to reach levels as high as 70-90%, decimating their numbers.  The sight of these white, semi-hairless and greatly emaciated creatures has born the name “Ghost Moose”.

If you see them here, have heart knowing they will likely be just fine and survive without much issue.  It is also comforting to know that these ticks do not carry disease, and they do not affect humans (or our pets) in any way.  Know that we can all safely share space (from a safe distance, of course) and show off our raggedy spring selves in all its glory!


Originally published in The Mountain-Ear

Source:
https://www.wildlife.nh.gov/sites/g/files/ehbemt746/files/documents/winter-ticks.pdf

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It has been said that at one time “the plains were black and appeared to be moving”.  This referred to a creature that today almost seems mythical in its history here in North America.  I am speaking of our national mammal, the American Bison.

It is theorized that bison arrived in North America via the Bering land bridge during the Pleistocene Era, somewhere between 330,000 and 130,000 years ago.  Currently ranked as the largest mammal in North America at up to 6 feet in height, over 10 feet in length and weighing over 2,000 lbs, it is said that the ancestors who crossed the land bridge were far larger. 

Fossil records show that what we now know as the American Bison first appeared around 5,000 years ago.  Their territory prior to European settlement ranged from middle Alaska all the way to the middle of Mexico, and from the Pacific to the Atlantic in numbers estimated between 30-60 million.  There are few places they didn’t live, even venturing above timberline in the mountains.

While they had already begun to dwindle prior to the 1800’s, it was the “great western expansion” and the building of the railroads that sealed the fate of these stunning animals.  Overhunting and indiscriminate killings brought the wild population to a staggeringly low number of an estimated 1,000.  Here in Colorado, there were assumed to be around 20 wild bison in 1889, and by the end of the century there were none. 

Currently there are still no truly wild herds native to the state.  Occasionally part of the Utah Book Cliffs herd wanders across state lines, but to date, only private livestock and a couple of conservation herds exist.  These herds are only “partially wild”, as while they are protected and not harvested, they live in vast enclosures.

On May 9^th, 2016 the National Bison Legacy Act was signed into law, designating them as the official national mammal.  It is estimated that their numbers are still only around 10,000, with slightly over half being part of the Yellowstone herd.  The Hayden and Lamar valleys in the park are the last places where bison have continuously lived since prehistoric times.

In November of 2025, the Colorado Parks and Wildlife Commission unanimously approved regulations regarding guidelines set out by the 2025 Protect Wild Bison Act (SB25-053).  As of January 1^st, 2026, bison now enjoy dual legal classifications of both livestock as well as wildlife.  This provides the wild animals with the same protection afforded to all big game animals in the state.

What this status holds in the way of the return of wild bison to the state remains unclear.  The immense changes of land use from the days when wild herds roamed free dramatically limits their potential.  The new regulations simply allow for a structure of management for the animals like any big game, were any herds to be brought to the state for re-introduction. 

For now, those protections cover those who wander across state lines.  Pawnee National Grasslands could be a viable reintroduction area at over 190,000 acres. That said, arranged as a sort of “checkerboard” interspersed with private and other state lands, it is hard to say how a wild population would be handled.

Currently one can visit any of the three conservancy herds in the state.  Zapata Ranch in the San Luis Valley as well as the Genessee Park Conservancy allow limited visits and observation opportunities. 

Rocky Mountain Arsenal National Wildlife Refuge near DIA offers the best year-round opportunities, with a maintained road passing through the enclosure.  However, due to the vast size of the land area, sightings can be hit-or-miss.  The most important regulation of the RMANWR enclosure is that you must always remain in your vehicle.  As we have learned from far too many not very smart individuals in recent years, it is not a good idea to try to pet the “fluffy cows”.

Originally published in The Mountain-Ear

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While winter activity in the wild might seem to hunker down for the season, life still goes on.  Animals still need to forage, sometimes nests and dens need repairs after big storms (especially if the “W” is involved, as we all know well), and existence itself needs to be perpetuated.  As we are currently “in the season”, this week’s article looks at our furry red fox neighbors and their winter mating season habits.

The fall ruts of our ruminants (the deer, sheep and goat families) tend to see the most “popularity” in terms of observation.  That said, many other animals take their pleasures throughout the next few months.  Shorter gestation periods combined with a need to maximize reproductive success dictates mating throughout the long mountain winter.

It bears noting that statistically, humans are no different. It has long been understood that winter, and its accompanying storms, produce a plethora of late-summer birthdays throughout temperate or colder regions of the earth.  The joke being, one’s got to have something to do to stave off that cabin fever or get through that power outage… While we tend to forget, we too are simply another animal on this planet. 

As foxes tend to inhabit places near or among humans, their mating activities may be more noticeable to us than other species.  This is not to say you should expect to see rampant explicit activity throughout your day-to-day living, but you might notice a slight uptick in sightings or other signs. 

A common tell is an increase in nightly calls to mates in the way of yips, screams and barks.  For those new to the area and unfamiliar with fox behavior, know that some of these calls are commonly mis-identified as the scream of a mountain lion.  While it can be an eerie sound in the dark, what you hear is nowhere near as chilling as the feline variant.  As one who has had many night-time experiences with both creatures, trust me, once you’ve experienced a cat screaming nearby you will forever know the difference.

 As foxes often don’t den unless expecting a litter, you may also notice them taking an interest in your shed or burrowing under your home.  While they do sometimes make their own dens, it is quite common for them to use another animal’s space.  This includes humans if a home or out-building has access to space under the structure.  It is also common for foxes to re-use a den from year to year if they deem it to be safe.

This habit of denning around humans may also find you observing more hunting activity near you.  Throughout winter, hunting tends to take place during the day, as prey (typically rodents) is far more likely to be inactive at night than during the warmer months. 

Please know that if you see this activity, understand that they are in no way “starving” and do not need any “help” in the way of feeding.  Foxes are incredibly adept at hunting in the snow.  Utilizing superb hearing, they can pinpoint prey under feet of snow with deadly accuracy.

In my 30 years here, it astounds me how many times I’ve had people casually tell me they feed their fox visitors.  Not only are you putting their survival at risk, but you are also inviting FAR more pests to your area.  Simply put, a fed fox will hunt less.  It is always ironic to hear some of these same folks complain about the voles in their yards and gardens…

If you happen to notice any of this activity near your own home, know that you might have some entertainment coming your way in a handful of months.  Fox kits are incredibly delightful to watch as they frolic about their dens.  I’ll also mention I am always happy to get invitations to photograph their fun from respectful distances (I also generally provide a free print or two if anything good comes from the sessions, *wink* *wink*).

For now, sleep well through the barks and yips.  Enjoy the free entertainment and pest control if they are hunting your rodents.  Give them space to live their lives and savor the gifts of nature we have the opportunity to observe in out little slice of paradise.

Originally published in The Mountain-Ear

The post Shackin’ Up In the Winter appeared first on James DeWalt Photography.

Light snow falls from the sky into the woodland clearing as the day’s remaining sun makes its way through the somber, gray clouds slowly drifting over the peaks above.  A frigid breeze gently blows across the treetops, causing the creak of lower trunks and branches rubbing together to create a rhythmic tune.  In the distance a lone woodpecker drums its cadence in search of a meal, and the cry of a gray jay makes for a lone lyric in the collective music of nature as it heads back to its nesting shelter for the night.

As this subtle symphony carries through the forest, the sound of a snapping twig breaks the mesmerizing enchantment, then another, and then once more.  A slow but steady crunch of snow is discerned, just barely audible through the music.  Not the heavy step of a booted foot, but the patient, methodical movement of beings who have intimately known this forest as home for time eternal.  One by one, a small band of bull elk enters the snow-blanketed glade and spreads out for a late afternoon meal that will carry them through the long night ahead.

Winter living in the mountains is no easy task, even for a creature seemingly well accustomed to it such as our majestic elk.  While herds often tend to migrate to lower elevations for the season, some prefer to keep to the higher country above the foothills.  This is more often the case for the small bachelor herds that break off from the main group after the fall rut.

Migrations tend to be spurned by a need for ample food supplies more than a general escape from the harsher climates higher up. If there is ample food available, there isn’t as much of a need to head down the mountain. 

When the smaller summer herds of females, babies and yearlings gather for the rut, they tend to remain in that larger group throughout the winter along with the herd bulls.  This larger grouping can sometimes hold numbers in the hundreds.  With a population of that size, mountain living becomes far less sustainable, ultimately forcing a move that can sometimes take them to the very base of the foothills and the far less snowy grasslands at the edge of the plains.

Bachelor herds typically consist of far lower numbers, usually around a dozen or so, but occasionally gathering as many as 20-30 or more bulls of varying age.  I’ve had the pleasure of spending time with some larger groups as they wintered around the ranch pastures on the outskirts of Estes Park.  Locally, I have only seen the smaller groupings, and those sightings tend to be rare.

Those that stay don’t tend to wander far in a given day.  Survival in the wild is reliant upon conservation of energy.  With winter food sources being scarce, long-distance travel would consume far too much of the energy necessary to stay alive.

These herds can often be found near larger mountain meadows in valleys or smaller glades in the higher slopes.  If the snow is not too deep, they will use their antlers to dig down to the grass below.  While not rich in nutrients like the lush growth of spring and summer, anything helps.  When grass is unreachable, they will turn to pine needles and twigs and even bark for sustenance.

The clearings of meadows and glades also provide a source of warmth during the daylight hours, a place to soak in whatever sunlight they may as they graze.  If conditions are good enough, they might even enjoy an afternoon bed for an hour or so. If snow is deep, they will remain close to the forest edge, as a trudge too far out into a larger meadow may consume too much energy.  They also tend to keep the forest close, retreating to the trees as the cover provides shelter from the oft brutal nightly winter winds.

When I spend time with these beautiful creatures any time of the year, I am always in humble awe at their fortitude, knowing the conditions they endure to live in this mountain kingdom.  I am often reminded of a quote about them from one of my favorite naturalist authors, Craig Childs, in his book The Animal Dialogues:

“The elk that you glimpse in the summer, those at the forest edge, are survivors of winter, only the strongest. You see one just before dusk that summer, standing at the perimeter of the meadow so it can step back to the forest and vanish. You can’t help imagining the still, frozen nights behind it, so cold that the slightest motion is monumental. I have found their bodies, half drifted over in snow, no sign of animal attack or injury. Just toppled over one night with ice working into their lungs. You wouldn’t want to stand outside for more than a few minutes in that kind of weather. If you lived through only one of those winters the way this elk has, you would write books about it. You would become a shaman. You would be forever changed. That elk from the winter stands there on the summer evening, watching from beside the forest. It keeps its story to itself.”

Originally published in The Mountain-Ear

The post Lords of Winter appeared first on James DeWalt Photography.