nature

Sandhill Cranes

/ Tracy Abell / 11 Comments

We had a glorious time at Monte Vista National Wildlife Refuge with the thousands of Sandhill Cranes. This is just a tiny taste of what we experienced and one of the final photos I took yesterday evening. These four cranes were coming in for a landing at a popular feeding spot in the barley field.

March 12, 2024

I don’t know what it was about that corner but during each of the three feeding times we witnessed, cranes showed up at that spot which is within 50 feet of where people are allowed to stand. There’d be just a few to start and then others, like the four above, would drop in to join them. Zippy joked about the cranes having an agreement to take turns posing for the humans. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful for their presence. More photos to come!

Sunday Confessional: on feeling powerless

/ Tracy Abell / 7 Comments

I haven’t been here much lately because reality feels so very hard. Don’t think anyone would argue with that sentiment, but I do know that many would argue against giving up. And they’re right. Despite the fact that these are incredibly dark days in which we’re facing multiple crises funded and enabled by the powerful elite–people who live insulated lives and truly do not care what the rest of us think and want–that doesn’t mean we can drop out of the struggle. There’s so much to fight for–people and planet.

So, today I’m dipping back in on a small scale. Here is a wee mouse that was hanging out below one of our bird feeders.

January 16, 2024

It was brutally cold that day and this little mouse was out doing what needed doing in order to survive. They weren’t giving up without a fight.

I won’t, either.

Snowy aftermath

/ Tracy Abell / 13 Comments

Yesterday my plan to spend the day doing revisions was upended by a snowstorm that began at about 10:00 in the morning and continued for twelve hours. By the time it ended, we’d received at least 17 inches of snow (it was HEAVY so there was compression). This was the view out the kitchen window right after sunrise this morning.

And here’s the patio where we’d sat just days earlier when the temperatures were in the 50s.

Yesterday’s shoveling was an exercise in futility as the snow fell faster than we could clear it. The neighbors and I never had more than a minute or two of feeling a sense of accomplishment before the pavement was covered again and we had to start all over.

A neighbor from farther up the hill made a crucial error when driving up our street on his way home: he stopped to allow a struggling vehicle to get past on the barely plowed street and then was unable to get going again. His vehicle slid to the gutter and my immediate neighbors and I spent a long time trying to dig them out, but the road got too slick beneath the tires and there was no traction. He ended up abandoning the vehicle overnight.

Despite waking up a bit stiff and tired from all the shoveling, I couldn’t resist the lure of the open space. Late this morning, I gathered my snowshoes and poles, and walked up to the trailhead. After strapping on the snowshoes, I veered off the path where others had already walked, thinking I wanted my own adventure. Um, no. The deep snow made each step a major chore and I knew I’d be exhausted within minutes. I instead followed others’ footprints, huffing and puffing as I gained elevation beneath the blue-blue-blue sky. I did my best to ignore the nasty brown cloud hovering above Denver and the surrounding area. Instead, I smiled at the yucca spines sticking up from the snow, marveled at the really deep drifts, and listened to chickadees and juncos. There were deer tracks and ski tracks, and I saw one person carrying a snowboard. Up on the ridgeline, a group of younger people were sledding down the hill.

On the way down, I chose to take advantage of gravity and break trail rather than follow the established trail. Plumes of snow rose and fell with each step, making me feel strong and powerful.

And after getting home and eating some delicious avocado toast, I finally got to work on revisions. Yay!

Twofer Tuesday: feathered friends

/ Tracy Abell / 8 Comments

Birds are keeping me going during these dark days. Even more than usual, I’m intentionally watching and listening for them with the knowledge that such interactions ground me and bring a moment of peace. And joy.

Today as Zippy, Emma, and I took a slow walk in the neighborhood, we heard a loud call. A hawk was perched in a tree above the street. I quickly pulled up my Merlin app in hopes it would help me identify whether it was a Cooper’s Hawk or Sharp-shinned Hawk. Unfortunately, the hawk went silent. But we were gifted with an up-close sighting as the raptor flew directly above our heads (and no, I couldn’t tell whether the tail feathers were rounded or flat) and then circled back around before landing in another tree. A gift to us.

Here’s another bird that brought me joy recently. A White-breasted Nuthatch exploring the tree trunk outside my window. I was thrilled to get a decent photo because these guys are always on the move.

January 13, 2024

And here’s a familiar face: male House Finch, of which we see many every single day. But every sighting brings a smile.

January 13, 2024

Once again, birds for the win.

Climate Movement Monday: protect mature trees

/ Tracy Abell / 3 Comments

Welcome back to Movement Mondays in which we discuss all things climate. Today I’m returning to an issue I highlighted in March of 2023 when I asked for personalized letters in support of old-growth forests. There’s good news: on December 19, 2023, the Biden administration put out a press release First-of-its Kind National Forest Plan Amendment to Conserve and Steward Old Growth Forests, stating that “the U.S. Department of Agriculture announced a proposal to amend all 128 forest land management plans to conserve and steward old-growth forest conditions on national forests and grasslands nationwide.”

That’s a very good start. But we need to keep applying pressure to also protect mature trees and forests. Per Earthjustice: The proposed plan could protect old-growth trees in national forests from most logging. But the Forest Service also needs to issue strong protections for mature trees, which are our future old-growth forests and exist in much greater numbers than old-growth.

Photo by Zetong Li

Protecting mature trees and forests on federal lands should be a no-brainer as we face climate collapse. Big, old trees do so much for us. They store carbon! They provide habitat for wildlife! They help clean the air and water! They stabilize soil during floods! Also? Big, old trees are beautiful and balm for our stressed-out souls.   

Earthjustice has provided a letter template for us to get our comments to the Forest Service. Remember, we don’t have to write a whole lot of words and the most effective letter is one that shows why the issue matters to us. I know there are many tree-loving readers here. 🙂 Please, take a moment in support of mature trees and forests!

Solidarity! ✊🏽

Ending the year on a positive note

/ Tracy Abell / 8 Comments

I deliberately went in search of natural inspiration and rejuvenation this afternoon as I wanted to end the year on a positive note. And during that time watching and listening to the birds and other wildlife around my home, the grief and anxiety fell away. I was at peace. Here’s a sampling of what I witnessed:

Scrub Jay

American Robin

White-crowned Sparrow (immature)

House Finch

Disgruntled Bunny (and yes, that’s a great name for a band!)

Dark-eyed Junco (and no, that’s not their mess)

House Finch

Goldfinch

Squirrel!

And lastly, Emma Jean-Jean, keeping an eye on things as I photographed yard visitors

I also saw Northern Flickers, a woodpecker, a Red-breasted Nuthatch, Black-capped Chickadee, Mourning Doves, and magpies. It was a bird buffet!

But that’s not all I did to soothe my soul. I also hoop-danced for 10 minutes today which brought my hoop-dancing total for the year to exactly 28 hours! In 2021, I hooped for 24 hours and in 2022 I hooped for just over 27 hours. So, this year is my new record. Woot woot!

Happy New Year to all! May the coming year bring more justice and peace around the globe.

Nature’s refuge

/ Tracy Abell / 10 Comments

I’m in the final stretch of revisions before sending the middle-grade manuscript back to my agent so the book can go on submission in the new year. The work feels both like a blessing and a curse. I’m grateful to be able to focus on something besides the horrific reality of our government’s complicity in the genocide in Gaza, but also sometimes feel selfish for escaping reality. Deep inside, I know that’s silly, and not only because the story I’m revising focuses on righting societal wrongs.

I also realize it’s silly to begrudge myself my creative outlet because we all need a refuge, whether it’s via the art we create or connection to the natural world.

July 20, 2023

In that spirit, I’m offering this Painted Lady on a sunflower. I photographed this in July and gazing upon their interconnectedness replenished my spirit as soon as I found it in my files. Maybe this image will do the same for you.

Forest tableau

/ Tracy Abell

From the moment I woke this morning, a heavy fog has hung in the air. We never saw the sun, not even a glimpse. The entire day has been cold, damp, gray. Utterly dreary. So I went in search of an image to remind myself it’s not always a monochromatic world.

Here’s a still life from our hike in Pike National Forest. I remember being charmed by the bursts of color that day and today the vibrant foliage warms my heart even more.

October 3, 2023

And to quote Raveena Tandon: Anywhere which is in a forest, that’s my zen place.

Nothing but birds

/ Tracy Abell / 4 Comments

These photos were all taken after our first snowstorm on October 29th. We saw lots of different species that day and here’s a sampling of who came to visit the feeders and bath.

Black-billed Magpie

Dark-eyed Junco

House Finch

Northern Flicker

Mourning Dove

And one last Dark-eyed Junco, because how could I resist this delightfully round bird?
Wishing everyone a bird-rich day.

These dark days of autumn

/ Tracy Abell

My sorrow, when she’s here with me,
thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be;
she loves the bare, the withered tree;
she walks the sodden pasture lane.
 ~ Robert Frost

Park View Trail, Trinidad State Park 10.10.23

Finding our shared humanity: LIGHT IN GAZA

/ Tracy Abell / 6 Comments

I’m taking advantage of the many resources on offer right now to help people such as myself become more educated on the Palestinian experience and the history of Palestine. As mentioned earlier, Haymarket Books has made three Palestine-related ebooks free to download.

One of those books, Light In Gaza: Writings Born of Fire is an anthology of Palestinian writers and artists sharing their lived experiences. Reading about daily life in Gaza helps me better understand their lives while also broadening my perspective.

“Let Me Dream” by Israa Mohammed Jamal begins with an exchange with her third-grade daughter as they worked on a school lesson together about tourist sites in northern Palestine. The daughter exclaims, “What beautiful places we have in our country. Let’s go there, Mama! Please!” The mother/author had never been to any of those places, either, and has to explain to her daughter that because Israel occupies the West Bank and blockades Gaza, they cannot go to those tourist attractions.

As someone who heavily relies on nature to maintain my emotional and mental health, I can barely imagine a life in which I was prevented from not only traveling freely, but seeking out the calming influence of the natural world. My body literally constricts at the thought.  The author’s essay moves from that exchange with her young daughter to some of her childhood and adult experiences, such as various family members leaving Gaza and the ensuing loneliness that enveloped her. She also writes of the party plans for her firstborn daughter’s first birthday in 2009 made in defiance of the fact that Israel was bombing Gaza then, plans that had to be abandoned when the bombs targeted their neighborhood, forcing them to flee to a relative’s house where they watched the news on their mobile phones because the electricity had been cut.

The essay ends with the author’s dreams for her children, including this excerpt:
I wish to witness the miracle of the liberation of all our occupied lands. Then, I can go to our home villages with our children so they can feel where they originate and belong and feel ownership of their homeland. I hope to erase “refugee” from their vocabulary, because this word is full of disappointment and weakness. They will go to every place in our country. They will see the beautiful places on the West Bank, without fear from armed soldiers, and will have peace of mind without being restricted in their movements inside and outside our ancestral land. They will discover those places by themselves and will live the adventure of traveling to new places such as cities and forests. Gaza doesn’t have mountains or forests, so we have never gone on safari and enjoyed the glory of nature.

Everyone on this glorious planet should have access to nature. Everyone deserves freedom of movement and, after reading “Let Me Dream,” I’m more grateful than ever for the ability to come and go as I please.

But the truth is, none of us are truly free while others are oppressed.

Twofer Tuesday: American Robins

/ Tracy Abell

These are very hard days on the planet and  so I’d like to offer these photos I took while camping last week. American Robins are quite commonplace and have a distinctive, easy-to-identify profile. Here’s one of the many I spotted in the forest surrounding Trinidad Lake:

What I hadn’t previously experienced with robins was them flying like missiles through the forest. As I stood there with my camera and big lens mounted on the monopod while listening to the many birds hidden in the trees, robins flew past just inches from me, wings literally whistling. It was wild! And at one point, about thirty of them flew out from the trees, coming from all directions, to fly across the lake. I was too stunned to even try to photograph that flock. Here’s one that generously posed:

It was a lovely morning in those final hours before we packed up to start the drive home. Even though I’m far removed from that setting, looking at these photos brings me peace once again. I hope these lovely robins do the same for you.

A dose of nature

/ Tracy Abell / 12 Comments

On Tuesday, Zippy and I drove to Kenosha Pass to admire the changing foliage and take a hike. I was giddy with anticipation since we’d left Emma at home which meant I could fully relax without constantly scanning for other dogs on the trail. Emma came to us with some emotional baggage and she still, after all these years, frequently reacts to other dogs. I was looking forward to a quiet hike and photo session. But when we reached Kenosha Pass, the parking lots where we typically only see about ten vehicles when we drive past on Highway 285 were completely filled with vehicles. Not only that, the side road was also lined with vehicles. About 50 or more vehicles. Ugh.

I made a quick U-turn and drove back another mile or so to a turnoff our neighbor had alerted us to. He’d said there was a lake back there where we could hike. Well, it turns out that lake is now off-limits to the public and there were several NO TRESPASSING signs posted about but there was a parking area for another trailhead. So, off we went.

We were in Pike National Forest where the pine trees outnumbered the showy aspen trees, but that was okay. Because it was SO peaceful in the forest and there was much vivid beauty to admire. (click to enlarge)

 

 

 

 

 

We kept a tally of the few birds seen and heard** as we were serenaded by the wind in the pines. And then the pines would quit their shushing wind sounds to become absolutely silent. At one point, we were hiking in that silence and then came upon these trees which loudly creaked as several of them rubbed against each other in the wind.

I fought the urge to investigate which ones were producing the creaking sounds as I’d learned while hiking to Eaglesmere Lake that those sounds are impossible to locate. On that hike, I’d stood in one spot to listen and felt positive the sound was coming from my left, only to move left and then hear the sound coming from behind me. Or in front of me or to the right. It was enough to make me believe in impish woodland creatures.

When we’d arrived at the trailhead, the car display said it was 47 degrees. Clouds moved in as we hiked and the temperature dropped a bit. At one point, the sun shone down as a smattering of teeny-tiny flakes of snow fell. The most troublesome objects in the sky were the three sets of fighter jets that flew over, completely obliterating the tranquility. When the third set roared overhead, Zippy aimed a middle finger at them and shouted a profanity which cracked me up although I couldn’t stop thinking about how the wildlife must be so traumatized by those sounds. At least we understood the source of that horrific noise.

It wasn’t all pines, we did see some glorious aspen displays. Here we are taking turns being leaf-peepers. As you can see, Zippy’s approach is a bit more stealth than mine.

 

 

 

After we’d turned around to head back, the clouds began to darken and I started singing Winnie-the-Pooh’s “A Little Black Rain Cloud.” But it wasn’t rain in those clouds, it was snow! For a while there, we hiked through an absolute flurry.

Our first snow of the season! We were above 10,000 feet so it shouldn’t have been that unexpected, but it did feel a bit other-worldly. And it was getting colder. All summer when hiking with my camelback, the first sips of water that’d been in the tube were always warmer than the following sips. It was the reverse: the tube-water was cold and the water from inside the pack was warm. Kinda trippy!

Fortunately, I was dressed appropriately and kept warm for the 5 1/2 mile hike. Even better, we only saw ONE HUMAN that entire time. A woman on a mountain bike passed us going the other way at our four-mile mark and then caught up with us again a few minutes before we made it back to our car. We were SO glad we’d opted out of the hordes of leaf-peepers on the pass. They might’ve seen more aspen displays than us, but we had the solitude on our side. It was truly a magnificent hike.

All gratitude to nature!

**
Dark-headed Junco
Canada Jay
Possibly a bald eagle although probably a Turkey Vulture
Mountain Chickadee
Crow
Common Raven
Chipmunk

Things are happening

/ Tracy Abell / 13 Comments

For me, being in a car or on an airplane is like being in limbo.
It’s this dead zone between two places.
But to walk, you’re some place that’s already interesting.
You’re not just between places.
Things are happening.
~ Rebecca Solnit

Fauna and flora

/ Tracy Abell

I spent the last couple hours working on my work-in-progress and decided to reward myself by looking through photos from this past week’s camping trip. Here’s a Steller’s Jay that did me a solid by posing long enough for a decent photo :

Such a handsome bird. And here’s a Yellow-rumped Warbler that also visited a nearby tree:

Gotta appreciate a bird with such an obvious marking AND a name that directly corresponds to said marking. Kudos to the ornithologist!

Here’s one of the many chipmunks that drove Emma to distraction:

Finally, here’s a sampling of some late-blooming wildflowers spotted while we hiked around Lower Cataract Lake:

My research says these flowers are called Mayweed / Stinking Chamomile / Dog Fennel which don’t really seem like names that suit the flowers. Granted, I didn’t give them a sniff but surely there’s another name that would better represent their appearance/demeanor. [Oops, just saw that they’re officially listed as a noxious weed here in Colorado, so maybe “Stinkin’ Chamomile” was just the most polite term available.]

Thankful Thursday: second time’s the charm

/ Tracy Abell / 5 Comments

Almost exactly two years ago, Zippy and I attempted a hike to Eaglesmere Lake in the White River National Forest, but were thwarted in our efforts (in no small part because Zippy had forgotten shoes and was hiking in socks and Tevas + we’d forgotten to bring the trail info + we missed the turn due to a very faded trail sign). I wrote about that experience here. Today, I’m happy to report that yesterday we made it to Eaglesmere Lake!

Zippy took this wide-angle shot with his phone.

click to enlarge

It’s true that the last time we attempted the hike, the trail sign was old and faded. But what’s also true is that there was at least a mention of Eaglesmere Lake on the middle sign. Not so anymore. Here’s the new sign we encountered yesterday:

No mention of Eaglesmere Lake whatsoever. So, if we hadn’t been better prepared this time (as in knowing we’d started on Trail 61 and needed to turn right at Trail 60), we would’ve been hosed again. Fortunately, we had proper footwear AND trail info!

After hiking the 4.3 miles there, I asked Zippy to photograph me with the elusive lake in the background to show we’d prevailed. I wanted documentation, darn it!

And Zippy wanted a photo of me without the visor and hood:

Then we ate a late lunch. We were the only people there because, once again, we’d gotten a late start which meant that everyone else had already been and gone by the time we arrived. After eating, I clambered over the rocks to photograph the grasses (?) floating on the water.

click to enlarge

After a little more rest, we started back. Along the way, we spotted a Downy Woodpecker in the same area where we’d watched a woodpecker circle the trunk of an aspen tree two years ago. We grinned at the synchronicity. Then just a little farther down the trail, we were treated to a sighting of the larger Hairy Woodpecker! Hooray!

We arrived back at our campsite at 5:30, tired from our exertions but very grateful we’d accomplished what we’d set out to do.  All hail Eaglesmere Lake!