Hints of Autumn

I know it’s only August, but the change of season is in the air.  Reds and yellows are creeping into the landscape.  Perhaps hastened by the drought, the aspens are beginning to mix gold with the green.  There are still some wildflowers to be found, but they tend to be somewhat subdued and spread out, lacking the robustness of earlier in the season.  I think the brilliant yellow of aspen forests in fall may be quite early this year.  Autumn in Wyoming and Colorado can be stunning!

 

The animals that hibernate, like marmots, are getting plumper, while the ones that have to store their food are endlessly busy.  Pika run steadily with clumps of vegetation in their mouths to add to their haypiles.  Squirrels and chipmunks are caching whatever food they can find.  One least chipmunk recently paused long enough for me to snap his photo, and then was off again.  Notice the red-tinged foliage in that picture!

Another sign of the progressing season is antler size.  I have seen several mule deer bucks with noticeable racks, and last weekend in Colorado I saw two bull moose with handsome antlers.  One bull was significantly larger than the other, but they grazed together like buddies.  That’s one indicator that, despite the hints of autumn, we still have a little summer left.  Once mating season arrives, these guys probably won’t be pals any more!

 

Alpine Sandwort

On the high, treeless mountaintops of Wyoming and Colorado, another tiny, sturdy flower is still blooming in the harsh August sun.  The cushions of alpine sandwort, Minuartia obtusiloba, can be found in similar environments to the moss campion that I wrote about yesterday.  This cute, white flower can emerge from June to September, but only on the rocky slopes above treeline.

 

 

Also called twinflower sandwort or stitchwort, this species used to be known as Lidia or Areneria obtusiloba.  It should not be confused with the Nuttall’s brittle sandwort, Minuartia nuttalli, shown in the picture on the right, which also grows high in the Rocky Mountains, but is slightly bigger and more star-like.  Both of these species can grow on rocky areas that look impossible to sustain life.  Nature finds a way!

 

Moss Campion

After spending some time on the top of Farview Mountain in the Never Summer Range of Colorado yesterday, I realized that I have been remiss about blogging on alpine plants.  These sturdy species have terribly short growing seasons in often inhospitable weather, yet they still manage to thrive on those windy, unsheltered rocks.  One hardy example is the moss campion, Silene acaulis (variety subacaulescens).  This plant looks a lot like a clump of moss this time of year–once most of the flowers are gone, as in yesterday’s photo on the right–but in early summer, it is covered with starry, pink blooms.

This species is one of those that grows both on the tops of mountains and in the far northern arctic tundra.  According to the U.S. Forest Service, “The cushion shape helps protect tender parts from frost and high winds, helps retain moisture, and holds in heat. Studies have shown that the temperature within a plant cushion can be up to 10 degrees centigrade higher than the ambient temperature.”  Other species seem to like this cushion, too, and their seeds often find it a suitable place from which to grow.  It is not uncommon, therefore, to find other flowers (like cushion phlox and mountain bluebells) blooming right on top of the helpful campion!

This species can also be called cushion pink, moss pink or pink family because of how close together the blossoms can grow.  The pink flowers are almost all gone now–only one or two still cling to sheltered, sunny sides of the cushion.  Autumn reds and purples are already edging into the high elevation landscape, but moss campion is still a cheerful summer green.

 

Perennial Fringed Gentian (Twisted Gentian)

I just can’t stop with the gentians!  After my fun hike last weekend in the Never Summer Wilderness (with the black bear sighting and all of those pretty purple gentians), I returned to that part of Colorado today for another trek in the mountains.  This time, I traveled a bit farther south–on the eastern edge of Routt National Forest–with a climb of Farview Mountain that put me on the western edge of the Never Summer Wilderness with views into Rocky Mountain National Park.  And above treeline on that mountainside?  Perennial fringed gentian, Gentianopsis barbellata.

This wildflower is somewhat similar to Rocky Mountain fringed gentian (Gentianopsis thermalis), with the blueish purple coloring and the petal fringe.  But while G. thermalis is a dainty, lovely, spiralled flower that elegantly fills moist meadows or decorates the edges of mountain streambanks, G. barbellata is a wild and crazy thang of the drier, alpine slopes.  This species is also known as twisted gentian, and for once that’s a common name that sounds pretty accurate.

I have only encountered this species in north central Colorado, though the internet suggests that I might be able to find in in the Snowy Range here in SE Wyoming.  I’m not sure about trusting the USDA plants database for this one, though, because they do not have it as being present in Jackson or Grand Counties of CO, which are the two places I know I that I have found it!  I can’t imagine what other species this funky flower could be–it fulfills both the twisted and the fringed requirements–and if you look elsewhere, on an excellent website, the correct counties are shaded.  I will chalk it up to government a mistake or oversight and assume my ID is the right one!

 

King’s Crown

King’s crown, Rhodiola integrifolia, is another pretty succulent that is similar to rose crown, Rhodiola  rhodantha (which is also called queen’s crown, to stick with the royal theme).  King’s crown differs by having a flatter, deeper red flower cluster that delivers a visual wallop.  The buds are an even darker red, as can be seen in the second photo.

Rhodiola integrifolia ssp. integrifolia (once known as Sedum roseum or Sedum integrifolium) grows throughout the west and can be referred to as ledge stonecrop, western roseroot or pacific roseroot as well as king’s crown.  In the Rocky Mountains, it can often be found in similar environments to R. rhodantha, but it seems to be able to tolerate drier, rocky conditions at times.

The Flora and Fauna Northwest website insists that “the leaves of roseroot are juicy and can provide liquid when water is not available. They are also high in vitamins A and C, and the leaves, shoots, and rhizomes may be eaten raw or cooked.”  I seem to have stumbled upon some non-threatening plant-life for a change!  That same site states, “Stonecrops are easily propagated by leaf- or stem-cuttings. Place a stem in well-drained soil during the moist season, and it should begin to form roots quickly.”  I can attest to this, as I have a type of stonecrop in my garden (purchased at a local nursery–please leave the king’s crown in the mountains where it belongs!) that I have transplanted bits of, and it is growing happily in all the new spots with very little help from me.

 

Rose Crown (Queen’s Crown)

Rose crown, Rhodiola rhodantha, comes with a variety of other names, including queen’s crown, roseroot or redpod stonecrop.  This plant of the Rocky Mountain region enjoys wet environments, especially moist subalpine or alpine meadows and streamsides.

Rose crown in summer–it blooms in July and August–has a rounded, pink flower cluster on top of green, succulent foliage that makes for pretty pictures.  In the late summer and autumn, the plant takes on a reddish hue.  It is worth exploring the Rockies for this mountain version of leaf peeping!

This plant is supposedly edible, so, if you want to, you could go forage a succulent salad of rose crown leaves.  But you should know by now not to put your trust in any species found on this site!

 

False Hellebore

Colorado false hellebore, Veratrum tenuipetalum, is a lush, moisture-loving plant that can, according to the USDA plants database, only be found in Colorado and southern Wyoming.  This Colorado species is quite similar to the California false hellebore, Veratrum californium, and there is some debate over whether these are just different varieties rather than separate species.  False hellebores are most recognizable by their enormous, long leaves, but the flowers can be quite pretty and distinctive when they are blooming.

I have encountered V. tenuipetalum in the Mt. Zirkel Wilderness of north-central Colorado, but I also found false hellebores on my recent road trip farther west.  Veratrum californium var. californium was blooming at Lassen Volcanic National Park, California, while the Cascade false hellebore, Veratrum californium var. caudatum, was adorning the banks of the Metolius River in Oregon.  All of these false hellebores can grow quite tall, but Cascade false hellebore was crazy, with its blooms snaking around in all directions to catch the sunlight.

I recently saw green false hellebore, Veratrum viride, on a hike in eastern Glacier National Park, Montana.  Even when the entire landscape is green, those thick leaves stand out.

Sometimes called corn lilies or skunk cabbages, Veratrum species are not related to corn or lilies, skunk cabbages or even hellebores for that matter.  The leaves do resemble those found in cornfields, but the similarities are only superficial.  Beware common names!

 

Fringed Grass of Parnassus

Fringed grass of parnassus, Parnassia fimbriata var. fimbriata, is a lovely, delicate white flower with fizzy accents.  Like star gentian and elephanthead lousewort, this is another species that likes damp areas.  I have found it hidden in the grass of marshy, subalpine meadows, like in the picture below from the Never Summer Wilderness of Colorado.  I have also seen it streamside in the Tetons of Wyoming and among rocks near snowmelt runoff in Glacier National Park, Montana.

Sometimes referred to as a bog star, the name grass of parnassus comes from the supposed discovery of a similar species on Mt. Parnassus in Greece.  Despite the name, this is not a grass, but a wildflower.  Again, watch out for those misleading common names!  But, you have to admit, saying “grass of parnassus” is a little bit fun.

The stems of these flowers are mostly leafless, emerging from rounded to folded heart-shaped basal leaves that are often hidden in other foliage.

 

These flowers aren’t exactly rare, but I usually only come across them about once a year, so a sighting is always notable.

I find this species quite pretty, with the funky center and attractive colors.  But my favorite part of this pretty blossom is most definitely the petal fringe!

 

Star Gentian

Here I go again with the gentians!  But it is the gentian time of year, and I find them all so pretty.  Star gentian, Swertia perennis, is small, dark, and often hidden in wet grasses, but look how lovely it is when you find it!

I have seen this bloom in various northern Colorado wilderness areas and high in Wyoming’s Snowy Range, but usually in very small numbers.  Last weekend in the Never Summer Wilderness of Colorado, I found boggy, high-elevation meadows full of this dark purple blossom, with many more buds waiting to emerge.

Like the autumn dwarf gentian, this flower can be easily overlooked, especially when the buds are closed, and like that species it can be referred to simply as ‘felwort’.  I think ‘star gentian’ is a much nicer and more descriptive name than ‘felwort’, but I am okay with using ‘alpine bog swertia’ if necessary.

 

 

 

American Black Bear

Yesterday, on a hike into a seldom-used part of the Never Summer Wilderness of Northern Colorado, I spotted my first bear of the year.  Wild American black bears, Ursus americanus, are often quite shy in this part of the world, preferring to avoid humans (good bears), so a sighting is a rare and super thing.

This bear was a good bear.  He was not one of those bears that have become accustomed to messy campsites or dirty dumpsters leading to an association of people with food.  This bear appeared in a lovely meadow, ambled down to the small river (the south fork of the Michigan), and bounded in a romping manner over some short willows.  Then he saw me and my main man where we were sitting on a log on the edge of the meadow enjoying a snack and the view.  He took one look and was long gone.  Like I said, a good bear.

I got exactly one photo of the bruin (see above), but check out the picture below of his lovely meadow.  Not a bad spot to spend your days.  And if the overgrown, marshy, hard-to-follow trail–with the addition of load of blown-down trees–was any indication, this bear had not encountered too many Homo sapiens.  The area was also full of great bird life and wildflowers, and I also saw a female moose near the river.  And, though the Wilderness Area is called Never Summer, it was not an accurate name for that warm, sunny day.

When the bear first appeared in the meadow, I thought he was an elk because of his lighter-colored rump (but he certainly didn’t move anything like an elk!).  I feel like that was a fairly comfortable distance from which to watch a bear when on foot in the backcountry —  from far enough away to be unsure of his species at first!

No grizzlies remain in this part of the country, and the black bears don’t show their fuzzy faces too often.  The only other Colorado bear I’ve seen in all my hikes in the region was on an early morning trail in Rocky Mountain National Park, CO.  He, too, looked at me and left the area (is it me?).  I did, however, once accidentally flush a baby black bear up a tree in the Tetons.  You can also read about that adventure on my old blog.

Incidently, black bears can be black, all sorts of shades of brown, reddish, or even almost white.  Only half of the Rocky Mountain black bears are actually black.  Hence this bear’s stylish blond highlights.