Monday, April 4, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Mission: Nothing
Text: Trina
Photos: Trina and Greg
Setting goals that are within reach, that are achievable without an inordinate amount of hardship is a key component of success. We had that in mind when we set out this weekend without bikes to find a quiet, remote place, preferably by a river, where we aimed to just sit with books, maybe read, maybe not, maybe just watch the water roll past, maybe play a little travel Scrabble, where we could watch idly as spring revs up, where the dogs could hopefully entertain themselves, where we could do pretty much nothing.
Mission Accomplished!
All around our chosen riverside domain, the cottonwoods were in various stages of bloom, from just-starting-to-flower
to flowers-raining-from-the-trees (aided by goldfinches knocking them loose in a feeding frenzy) landing on the ground with light thuds all around us, quite disturbing the peace and quiet.
Lovely shrubs and plants for which we know not names were blooming.
Spring gusts kicked up dirt devils and sent this ladybug tumbling arse over teakettle into the dirt the moment she lifted her wings for flight.
Last year's willow flower, or ... *gasp* ... willow cone gall???
It's when you sit still that you notice little things that you would just blast by, maybe even crush underfoot, if moving at a faster pace.
Steel blue cricket hunter (Chlorion aerarium) just entering its cow-poop-roofed den.
A male Phidippus johnsoni, or red-backed jumping spider. (The female has a black stripe down the middle of her red abdomen.)
We did actually muster the motivation for a slow, late afternoon amble along the river bank,
crossing a couple of side drainages
where muddy run off trickled in to mingle with the somewhat less muddy river,
and the evidence of salt leeching to the surface was made visible in intriguing ways.
Pinecone with salt
Fossilized dinosaur eggs. A whole nest of them. Obviously.
Evidence of others having passed this way.
The dogs did find various ways to entertain themselves, sometimes to our great alarm. When I was a teenager I volunteered for a semester in a preschool for developmentally disabled children. These were severe cases, each child requiring one-on-one aid at all times. One boy with some sort of extreme ADHD, if left unattended for even half a blink of an eye, would scale bookcases and be dangling from the ceiling by the time you completed the blink. I flashed back to that experience on this outing when I turned to see why I was hearing the sounds of toenails on tree bark and discovered Zeek and Sprocket 20 feet up a cottonwood. Perhaps this is the downside to the confidence-building aspect of agility class.
Fortunately, most of their exploits were lower in elevation and risk factor, and we can report a successful outing free of trips to the emergency vet clinic.
By evening, the spring winds had turned to ghastly gusts bringing a storm in their wake. We blew out, and headed home before we ended up like the last people who stayed in this canyon in a storm: nothing but whitewashed bones scattered about by spring runoff.
Photos: Trina and Greg
Setting goals that are within reach, that are achievable without an inordinate amount of hardship is a key component of success. We had that in mind when we set out this weekend without bikes to find a quiet, remote place, preferably by a river, where we aimed to just sit with books, maybe read, maybe not, maybe just watch the water roll past, maybe play a little travel Scrabble, where we could watch idly as spring revs up, where the dogs could hopefully entertain themselves, where we could do pretty much nothing.
Mission Accomplished!
All around our chosen riverside domain, the cottonwoods were in various stages of bloom, from just-starting-to-flower
to flowers-raining-from-the-trees (aided by goldfinches knocking them loose in a feeding frenzy) landing on the ground with light thuds all around us, quite disturbing the peace and quiet.
Lovely shrubs and plants for which we know not names were blooming.
Spring gusts kicked up dirt devils and sent this ladybug tumbling arse over teakettle into the dirt the moment she lifted her wings for flight.
Last year's willow flower, or ... *gasp* ... willow cone gall???
It's when you sit still that you notice little things that you would just blast by, maybe even crush underfoot, if moving at a faster pace.
Steel blue cricket hunter (Chlorion aerarium) just entering its cow-poop-roofed den.
A male Phidippus johnsoni, or red-backed jumping spider. (The female has a black stripe down the middle of her red abdomen.)
We did actually muster the motivation for a slow, late afternoon amble along the river bank,
crossing a couple of side drainages
where muddy run off trickled in to mingle with the somewhat less muddy river,
and the evidence of salt leeching to the surface was made visible in intriguing ways.
Pinecone with salt
Fossilized dinosaur eggs. A whole nest of them. Obviously.
Evidence of others having passed this way.
The dogs did find various ways to entertain themselves, sometimes to our great alarm. When I was a teenager I volunteered for a semester in a preschool for developmentally disabled children. These were severe cases, each child requiring one-on-one aid at all times. One boy with some sort of extreme ADHD, if left unattended for even half a blink of an eye, would scale bookcases and be dangling from the ceiling by the time you completed the blink. I flashed back to that experience on this outing when I turned to see why I was hearing the sounds of toenails on tree bark and discovered Zeek and Sprocket 20 feet up a cottonwood. Perhaps this is the downside to the confidence-building aspect of agility class.
Fortunately, most of their exploits were lower in elevation and risk factor, and we can report a successful outing free of trips to the emergency vet clinic.
By evening, the spring winds had turned to ghastly gusts bringing a storm in their wake. We blew out, and headed home before we ended up like the last people who stayed in this canyon in a storm: nothing but whitewashed bones scattered about by spring runoff.
Rabbitbrush Gall
Photos and text by Trina
We've been seeing these cottony galls
with little white larvae inside them,
sometimes with apparent exit holes,
on rabbit brush pretty much everywhere we go in the desert and, less frequently, these spiky green and purple gall-ish things
and I've finally taken the time to research them a bit, which, admittedly, didn't take a whole lot of effort thanks to the ever-amazing internet. Near the top of the list generated by typing in "rabbitbrush parasite," there was Bulletin 506A published by the Aspen Delineation Project. A botanist's dream journal, not only does Insects that Feed on Colorado Trees and Shrubs tell me what I wanted to know about rabbitbrush gall, it also explains many of the crazily colored and textured plant parasites that thrilled and amazed me when we backpacked in the West Elks.
In case you all aren't as excited as I was to peruse all 176 pages of the document -- even though you should be because where else are you going to learn about things called hackberry nipplegall psyllids, or pinyon spindlegall midges, or stubby needlegall midges, or willow redgall sawflies or pinyon pitch nodule makers (!!!) -- here is what the authors have to say about rabbitbrush gall (p. 61):
Cool, huh?!
We've been seeing these cottony galls
with little white larvae inside them,
sometimes with apparent exit holes,
on rabbit brush pretty much everywhere we go in the desert and, less frequently, these spiky green and purple gall-ish things
and I've finally taken the time to research them a bit, which, admittedly, didn't take a whole lot of effort thanks to the ever-amazing internet. Near the top of the list generated by typing in "rabbitbrush parasite," there was Bulletin 506A published by the Aspen Delineation Project. A botanist's dream journal, not only does Insects that Feed on Colorado Trees and Shrubs tell me what I wanted to know about rabbitbrush gall, it also explains many of the crazily colored and textured plant parasites that thrilled and amazed me when we backpacked in the West Elks.
In case you all aren't as excited as I was to peruse all 176 pages of the document -- even though you should be because where else are you going to learn about things called hackberry nipplegall psyllids, or pinyon spindlegall midges, or stubby needlegall midges, or willow redgall sawflies or pinyon pitch nodule makers (!!!) -- here is what the authors have to say about rabbitbrush gall (p. 61):
RABBITBRUSH GALL MAKERS
(Aciurina bigeloviae (Cockerell), other Aciurina spp., Procecidochares spp.)
Family: Tephritidae
Appearance: Adults are small "picture-winged" flies with patterned or generally dark wings. Larvae are pale-colored maggots found within plant galls.
Hosts: Rabbitbrush
Damage: Several different gall-forming fruit flies make galls on the stems and buds of rabbitbrush. Perhaps the most conspicuous are cottony swellings of the buds. Others produce green flower-like growth of leaf axils or sticky globular swellings on stems. These do not appear to damage the plant but attract attention when plants are in landscape settings. Life History and Habits: The gall makers on rabbitbrush are generally similar in habits to the gall midges. Overwintering typically occurs as a partially grown larva within the gall. They complete development and adults emerge during periods when the plant is actively growing. After eggs are laid, the
developing larvae stimulate gall development by their secretions and feeding activities.
Control: Controls have not been developed nor are needed. If galls are considered unattractive, they may easily be pruned out. In native stands of rabbitbrush, these gall makers are heavily parasitized by several species of wasps. Also, several gall
midges may also develop within the gall, competing with the flies creating the gall.
Cool, huh?!
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