Eileen M. Stark's Blog, page 11
April 8, 2015
Anna’s Hummingbird Babies: From Eggs to Empty Nest
Photo © 2015 Richard P. Weber
As I wrote last month, we were extremely fortunate to have had a little Anna’s hummingbird build her espresso cup-sized nest in our front yard, just steps from a window. In February, binoculars and camera in hand, we watched and photographed as she finished her intricately woven and structurally sound nest. On February 20 it appeared that the nest was complete and she began incubating her eggs.
About 18 days later, on March 8, I saw her perched on the edge of her nest, apparently regurgitating nectar from nearby native flowers into her babies. I couldn’t actually see them at that point since the nest was about eight feet off the ground and they were so small. At this early stage she would feed both nestlings (hummingbirds almost always have two), leave, and come back with more food within 60 seconds. Sometimes she’d return and stay on the nest awhile, since they were nearly naked and in need of warmth. Anna’s hummingbirds reportedly feed their young nectar in the mornings to warm them up, and tiny insects and spiders (high in protein) in the afternoons.
Later that week we saw them, with their bulging eyes and just the start of future feathers.
Later, about ten days after they had hatched and when their barbs began to look like feathers, she no longer stayed on the nest—during the day, anyway—most likely because they were rapidly filling up the tiny nest and she was not too keen on having her underside poked by pointy bills!
We continued to watch her feed them, aiming her long bill into their gaping orange mouths and then straight down their throats. She resembled a sewing machine needle as she repetitively pushed food into them, never spilling a drop. Ouch!
References state that Anna’s hummingbirds fledge within 18 to 23 days after hatching. On the morning of what I believe was Day 23 I watched as one of them sat on the edge of the nest and flapped his/her wings with such gusto that I thought the time had come. A rainstorm came and went, but they remained in the nest, sitting with their bills pointed directly upwards, nearly vertical; occasionally they’d shake off raindrops but maintained their pose. Undaunted, they also endured fairly heavy wind and a short but pounding hail storm.
On Day 24 I saw one of them, for the first time, venture out of the nest and onto the branch right next to the nest. Surely they are leaving now, I thought!
They left the nest on Day 25. I could be wrong about the day they hatched, or perhaps they loved Mom’s meals and enjoyed watching the world go by from their safe little nest so much that they stayed an extra day. Or the experts are wrong. When they left I was, disappointingly, in the shower at the time. Just before they left I noticed them preening their breast feathers meticulously, perhaps to make themselves more aerodynamic—notice the fluffy white down feathers in this photo, the last I took of them.
Experts say that Mom feeds them for several days post fledging, so they are on their own by now. I still look for them in the garden and high in the trees, but it’s hard to say who’s who—they may almost resemble adults by now. Reportedly, the siblings often stay together until autumn, when they separate for good (they are not social birds). Have a good life, sweet babies!
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March 25, 2015
Ban Neonicotinoids in Portland
The most widely used pesticides in the world, neonicotinoids (often called neonics) are a highly toxic, pervasive, relatively new class of insecticide. Following massive bee die-offs from neonic applications in the U.S. and Canada, last year Eugene became the first U.S. city to ban the use of neonics from city property. Similar bans in Seattle, Sacramento, and Spokane quickly trailed, and now Portland’s City Council is considering comparable—and crucial—affirmative policy at the local level, since higher government continually fails to offer protection from this growing environmental threat. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service decided last year to phase out neonics in its wildlife refuges, making it the first federal agency to restrict neonics, but the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency has yet to act.
Hundreds of studies indicate that neonics are wreaking environmental havoc: They not only disastrously kill or debilitate native bees, honeybees, and other pollinators like butterflies and moths, but also other ecosystem members such as birds, aquatic species, and mammals. Neonics are systemic, taken up through a plant’s vascular system and exuded in the pollen and nectar. Even miniscule amounts adversely affect central nervous and immune systems, cumulatively and irreversibly. If a victim such as a bumblebee isn’t killed outright, its failed immune system will succumb to ostensibly “natural” parasites and pathogens like 
fungal, viral or bacterial infections. Birds—the majority of which consume and feed their young insects—may be poisoned directly or go hungry due to a lack of insect biomass; scientists predict widespread reproductive dysfunction in birds due to neonic exposure.
Since neonics are water soluble, they are very prone to runoff and groundwater infiltration where they accumulate and persist for any years. Aquatic contamination has reached toxic levels in some areas and is expected to cause serious and far-reaching impacts on aquatic food chains.
The cumulative, persistent, and irreversible nature of neonics ought to raise some serious red flags. Human children may also be at risk to this neurotoxic class of pesticides due to their developing bodies and immune systems and tendency to be exposed to problematic substances while playing outdoors.
What we can do
We can voice our support for the proposed ordinance—which also recommends that local retailers label plants, seeds, and products containing neonics—by contacting Portland’s mayor and commissioners by March 31. Personally, I’d love to see this ban go further, as would Commissioner Amanda Fritz, but a ban on city property is a good first step.
We can also take action at home by eliminating pesticides and growing beautiful wildlife-friendly gardens. Besides chemicals, another major threat to wildlife is the lack of natural foraging areas. In our own yards we can attract and feed pollinators by including a variety of nonhybridized—preferably native—plants that will collectively flower from early spring through fall. Native plants that naturally occur in our region are best for all indigenous fauna because they supply the food and shelter that wild species require to survive and they need no synthetic pesticides or fertilizers.
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March 17, 2015
A Native “Shamrock”: Oxalis oregana
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
The shamrock legend can be traced to the 5th century saint who used a three-leaved plant—possibly white clover (Trifolium repens)—to demonstrate the concept of the Christian trinity. Today, oxalis cultivars, or any plants with tripartite leaves labeled as shamrocks, are sold as houseplants or outdoor plants.
Our Pacific Northwest native Oxalis (commonly known as wood sorrel) is a ground cover for mostly shady areas (but also more open, shrubby areas) at low to middle elevations. It has edible leaves (high in oxalic acid—like spinach—hence the botanical name) and forms a lush carpet in moist to dry woodlands.
Pollinators, take note
It’s also a pollinator plant, offering its charming small flowers to native bees, syrphid flies, and butterflies. Like most flowering plants that grow under low light conditions, its blossoms are white, pale, or light colored to enable pollinators to be able to easily see them. Later in the year Oxalis seeds may be eaten by seed-eaters like sparrows and small rodents.
In the Pacific Northwest the three wood sorrel species that occur naturally are Oxalis oregana (wood sorrel or Oregon oxalis), O. suksdorfi (western yellow oxalis; it occurs in southwestern WA and Oregon at low elevations), and O. trilliifolia (trillium-leaved oxalis).
What it needs
Grow it in the shade of tall trees like Douglas fir and with other native woodland species such as Vaccinium spp. (huckleberry), Mahonia nervosa (Cascade Oregon grape), Gautheria shallon (salal), Polystichum munitum (sword fern), Prosartes spp. (fairy bells), Trillium ovatum (western trillium), and others.
Give it moist acidic soil (pH 5 to 6.5), preferably rich in organic matter. While morning sun is welcome, it typically won’t do well with scorching midday or afternoon sun. In full shade and once established, it is a drought tolerant plant. Be sure you like it, though, because it will spread—enthusiastically, in the right conditions—to protect the soil.
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March 2, 2015
Anna’s Hummingbirds Nest in Native Gardens
Photo © Richard P. Weber
I was looking through our living room window about two weeks ago when I caught sight of a female Anna’s hummingbird as she zipped by and landed on a tall rhododendron shrub seven or eight feet away. As my eyes focused, I realized this was no ordinary perch: It was a nest, about the size of a demitasse cup that was apparently in the final stages of construction.
This exciting revelation reminds me of why I garden: For life! I had known, of course, judging by the number of hummingbirds feeding in our area and their relatively small territories (males defend about a quarter of an acre) that they must breed close by, but I had never actually seen a nest in our yard and I never went searching for one, for fear of causing disturbance.
Without delay my husband began to document her nest building, keeping out of her flight path and with a powerful lens. The first photos show a nest perhaps an inch tall; less than a week later she had clearly added on more material to its height. Through binoculars and for several more days I 
occasionally watched her as she stomped on the interior building materials—plant fibers, spider silk, feathers, or fur—with her tiny feet. The latest photos show that extra lichens were added as a finishing touch for camouflage (although I like to think that she added them as a charming decoration as well!).
One day I realized she was spending almost all of her time on the nest, leaving only for 20 to 60 seconds to grab a bite to eat. Incubation had begun! For the past 14 days she’s been patiently incubating her two eggs, which should hatch in as little as a day or two (incubation period ranges from 14 to 19 days). Baby pictures to come!
Hungry mouths
Anna’s hummingbirds eat nectar from many flowering plants, including our native cascara and black hawthorn trees, currant, gooseberry, and manzanita shrubs, and many introduced species as well. Our little Anna’s timing was impeccable: 
She chose to place her nest within 20 feet of two red-flowering currant shrubs that have just begun to bloom. Besides native currants, other early bloomers important to hummingbirds include Indian plum and Oregon grape. Later on you’ll find them attracted to the flowers of native huckleberry, ceanothus, twinberry, serviceberry, elderberry and salal shrubs, honeysuckle vines, and perennials like goatsbeard, milkweed, camas, penstemon, delphinium, tiger lily, and columbine. But these solitary birds reportedly eat more animal matter than other hummingbirds, consuming a wide array of small insects from shrubs, trees, and crevices, plucked from mid-air or taken from flowers or spider webs. Occasionally they’ll lap up tree sap leaking out from holes made by woodpeckers.
A Little History
Anna’s Hummingbird (Calypte anna) was named after a 19th century Italian duchess, Anna De Belle Massena, by René Primevère Lesson, a French surgeon, naturalist, ornithologist, and herpetologist. Such an appropriately aristocratic name for a sparkling little bird.
Historically a Pacific slope species from San Francisco to Baja California, Anna’s are now fairly common in urban and suburban settings as far north as British Columbia, as well as wilder places such as open woodlands, chaparral, coastal scrub, and oak savannas.
Conservation
While Anna’s hummingbirds are not considered endangered or threatened and can survive fairly comfortably in marginally developed areas, they are susceptible to many threats, including habitat loss, pesticides, predation, window collisions, harsh winter weather, and sugar feeders that have gone bad (it only takes a couple of days in the right conditions!). Natural flower nectar is superior to white sugar and water mixtures because it supplies micronutrients and spoilage is never a concern.
Because these birds (and other species) eat a large quantity of insects, always avoid using insect traps and pesticides that lessen the amount of forage available for them. Spider webs, which hummingbirds collect food from, should be left intact, whenever possible.
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February 13, 2015
Love in the Trees
It’s nearly Valentine’s Day, so here’s a bit about the love life of a little bird—the black-capped chickadee—who is such a joy to have around. Let’s start in winter, when black-capped chickadees spend their time in flocks.
Birds of a Feather
Flock formation typically starts in autumn, although it may begin earlier at higher elevations or more northerly latitudes. Anywhere from two to eighteen birds may make up a flock, with six to ten members most likely. Flocks contain adult birds who bred the previous season, “floaters” (those who didn’t get lucky or belong to more than one flock), and young chickadees from other areas who were born that year. Members feed together by day and roost together (but individually) at night, but all is not calm and congenial.
Exceptionally complex social behavior occurs in winter chickadee flocks. Each member falls into a linear peck order, with higher-ranking individuals surviving better than those ranked lower. Birds at the top of the hierarchy get the best—the most nutritious food, the safest cover, the finest breeding sites. The order has a purpose: To ensure that the strongest birds can breed in ample territory that provides enough food for their young to survive and thrive.
Rank is determined by several factors:
♦ Gender: Males tend to rank higher than females, although this changes during breeding season.
♦ Age: Veterans usually trump very young birds.
♦ Timing: Birds who join a flock late tend to tumble to the bottom of the hierarchy.
Matchmaker, Matchmaker
Studies have found that male-female pairs are matched in their rank status—that is, a high-ranking male is paired with a high-ranking female, a not-quite-so-popular male is paired with a not-quite-so-popular female, etc. Remind you a little of high school?
But wait—pairs within flocks? Doesn’t the pairing-off begin just before breeding season? You’d think so, but black-capped chickadees are way ahead of us. Researchers (yes, some people actually get paid to study cute little chickadees) have found that most flocks are initially made up of equal numbers of males and females, each of which spend more time associating with a certain member of the opposite sex than all the other members of the flock (in other words, they’re engaged!). Even the youngest flock members reportedly pair off, and it’s the female who decides which male will win her affection, as is the case in most of the animal kingdom. If a bird’s mate dies during the winter, however, mate selection is put off until springtime.
The Newlywed Game
Chickadee couples begin casually house hunting before the winter flock breaks up, even as early as mid-winter (depending on the weather). As spring approaches, their search becomes earnest and they compete—often fiercely—with others of their species for a territory. Around this time the male begins catching food and presenting it to his companion.
Photo © Richard P. Weber
Chickadees nest in cavities like holes in snags, rotted knotholes in living trees, or previously used woodpecker holes. When natural sites are scarce they may use a hole in the ground or artificial nest box, as they do in my backyard. Both Mr. and Mrs. Chickadee explore their territory for nest sites and usually several are partially excavated before a decision is made (they prefer to make their own nests by digging out pieces of wood and then discarding the debris elsewhere to discourage predators who may view a pile of telltale wood chips as potential dinner). A power struggle often follows, culminating in presentations with much fanfare and bickering, not unlike the wrangling that goes on during other species’ quarrels (if you know what I mean).
After the site is chosen (usually by the female), both pair members excavate the hole, but it is the female who builds the actual nest. Using strips of bark, moss, and other coarse material, she quietly creates a cup-shaped nest and lines it with soft material such as mammal fur. The male is still feeding her, but it will be during the next phase of their relationship—the egg-laying period—when she will need him the most. Laying eggs is immensely draining on a female’s energy reserves and her partner’s support is essential for her health as well as that of her young.
Photo © Richard P. Weber
On average, chickadees lay seven eggs and incubation usually begins the day before the last egg is laid, so that all but one hatch on the same day. During incubation the mother is fed often by her mate, either directly at the nest entrance or outside, following his soft call to her. After the young hatch, they are entirely dependent on their mother for warmth and food. Bringing home the food (mostly caterpillars) is Dad’s job for the first few days, and it’s intense, since each baby needs to eat several times an hour during the day. Later on, the female also forages for her babies. According to my reference, the mother begins providing food around day twelve, but I’ve seen both the male and female bringing food to the nestlings at perhaps day five or six; possibly this is due to the warmer temperatures in our region (as opposed to the eastern US, where spring comes later). Both parents remove poop sacs from the nest to keep it clean.
Want to help these endearing couples?
Chickadees are usually found at forest edges, and they need mature trees; both deciduous species in which to forage for insects and build nests, and coniferous types for cover and winter food. If you don’t have mature trees in your area, there’s no better time to plant than now! And consider supplying a nest box for them. Site one in partly sunny situations (morning sunlight is optimal) and put about an inch of coarse wood shavings in the bottom. The entrance hole diameter should be 1 ⅛ inches (to keep out house sparrows), and face away from prevailing winds. One box per acre or two is plenty, since they need a large territory in which to breed and feed, although high quality habitats will support more breeding pairs. Be sure to clean the box after breeding season is over.
Besides trees, provide clean water and, if your native plants are young, food during winter—chickadees are fond of black-oiled sunflower seed as well as suet, which is high in fat (they love my peanut butter-coconut oil-sunflower seed concoction), but they also consume berries, insects, and spiders found on shrubs and trees. Spring through fall, though, nearly all of their diet and their babies’ diet is animal—such as insects, their larva, and spiders—and native plants are best at providing it.
♥♥♥
Reference: Smith, Susan M. 1997. Black-capped Chickadee. Stackpole Books, Mechanicsburg, PA.
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January 29, 2015
Anatomy of a Functional Garden
Get out your pencils and notebooks, class. It’s time for Anatomy Lesson One: Structure of a Functional Garden.
Just as our bodies’ structure relies on interconnected units like bone and muscle, so do ecosystems and the little parts of them we call gardens. The main framework of a garden (above the soil line) is made up of the obvious counterpart to bone—the woody plants, like trees and shrubs, as well as manmade elements like buildings, fencing, and pergolas. A site’s location and topographical features, such as steep slopes or rocky outcrops, can also have a substantial effect on its structure.
There’s quite a bit of similarity between bone and wood; both have the ability to provide function as well as beauty (as revealed in this quip by the saucy Miss Trixie Delight, played by Madeline Kahn in Paper Moon: “When I was your age, I didn’t have no bone structure. Took me years to get bone structure. And don’t think bone structure’s not important!”). It’s beyond important, Trixie—a strong skeletal system is crucial. And, yes, it does take years to arrive; so the sooner you get a start on structure, the better.
When ecologists speak of structure they’re concerned with the entire community of species existing in a particular area, as well as nonliving components like rock and water. This article focuses mainly on living structure that provides a garden’s framework, as well as habitat for wild ones.
Seasonal interest
A garden should be a place we want to go no matter the time of year, and structure provides the invitation. It’s helpful for creating gradual transitions, dictating 
how our eyes travel through a space, and providing unity and balance. And structure can rev up “curb appeal”— a house looks best when it softly blends into a landscape and a way to do that is by nestling it within or framing it by medium to large trees (size being dependent on the dimension of your house and yard),
but not completely hiding it. Trees’ structure also offer shade on sultry summer days (particularly when placed to the west or southwest of a house) and their roots improve drainage for other plants tucked underneath. Of course, their structure also provides essential food and shelter for both flora and fauna, even in winter.
Life does not occur in isolation
Other interconnected elements contribute to landscape structure, just as tendons, ligaments, and fascia contribute to ours. A single tree in a sea of lawn will not attract and support nearly the number of species that a grouping of trees, shrubs, and smaller plants will, nor will it create the same amount of interest for us.
Beneath trees (but not too close to trunks) grow shrubs and perennials that will provide vertical connections. This creates a naturalistic effect and provides safe cover for feeding, resting, or wandering wildlife. Nature likes to get all tangled up so that order looks like chaos, so don’t be afraid to grow plants fairly close together.
Non-living elements, like arbors, trellises, water features, snags, nest boxes and—dare I say—spider webs, can add to the skeletal framework of the garden and provide ecological function, such as by supporting vines. I’m currently training a lovely pink-flowered, fuzzy-leaved native honeysuckle (Lonicera hispidula) on a trellis that obscures the compost bins under our deck, and I have big plans for its orange cousin, Lonicera ciliosa, to adorn a yet-to-be-built trellis (A.K.A. Spouse Project) outside our new “catio.” I predict 
that the bees and hummingbirds will be very pleased with these vines (as will the bird-watching cats). Keep manmade elements to a minimum and keep them simple to achieve a sense of flow and to complement—not overpower—the plants.
If there’s a garden (or natural area) that you are particularly fond of, chances are it’s because it has a pleasing framework to which other landscape elements are connected. Like the myriad connections in our bodies, structure helps bring cohesion to a landscape.
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January 2, 2015
Real Resolutions for the Garden
Conjuring up some New Year’s resolutions? Don’t forget about the ecosystem of which we are a part. Promise to do something positive in your yard this year to help dwindling wild species whose habitats have been ravaged. If you don’t have a yard, volunteer with an organization that’s working on a restoration project—it can be satisfying and enjoyable.
You certainly don’t need to replace every plant in your yard or eliminate all of your lawn to give back to nature. And you don’t need to do anything all at once—baby steps are fine! In fact, incremental change is usually best, since wild species using existing plants might be harmed by a drastic, rapid change.
Here are six suggested resolutions to help make your garden more REAL in 2015. Choose one (or preferably more):
1. Get rid of invasive plants that compete with natives. Depending on the plant species, this can be an easy job or one likely to give you headaches, backaches, and an urge to scream. It can take a few days or a few years. Once your task is accomplished, though, I guarantee that you will feel an extreme sense of satisfaction. If you have several invasive species in your yard, determine which may be the most invasive and start with that. Nonnatives that produce berries, like English holly trees, are particularly problematic because they spread into nearby natural areas not only by birds, but also via vegetative reproduction. English ivy also produces berry-like fruit and spreads by rooting on the soil surface and on tree trucks (at the very least, periodically cut it at the base of trunks to prevent it from harming trees). Check with city, county, and/or state agencies to find lists and descriptions of invasive plants; the USDA also offers information. My book offers some tips for removing invasive plants, as does Green Seattle Partnership.
2. Remove some lawn. Lawn for the sake of lawn is not beneficial and is simply wasteful. When deciding which part(s) of your lawn will receive walking papers, choose areas that you never or rarely use. Often this is the front yard. If you’re not ready to go all the way and remove a large area of turf, consider at least removing lawn under trees and in areas that are difficult to mow, such as slopes. Lawn can also be minimized by enlarging existing beds and adding ecologically beneficial plants.
3. Grow native plants that are endemic to your area. For this I suggest you consult my book if you live in the Pacific Northwest (west of the Cascades); another fine resource is the Encyclopedia of Northwest Native Plants, which offers more plant options (but little design advice). Always choose species that will flourish in your site’s soil, light, and moisture conditions.
4. Add some water. Birds, insects, amphibians—all creatures—need water year round to survive. Even just a birdbath can help, but keep it clean, 
change the water every few days, and keep it out of reach of marauding cats and dogs. Plates or shallow bowls filled with pebbles or clean gravel and water will provide for insects; butterflies will also appreciate mud holes to obtain moisture and nutrients.
5. Don’t use pesticides. Synthetic ones should be avoided at all costs, but even so-called organic controls can be deadly and indiscriminate, especially if used improperly. If a pest if causing enough damage in your kitchen garden to warrant a control, consider hand removal, barriers and screens, companion plants, or streams of water. Allow a natural balance to be achieved by welcoming natural pest control such as birds and predatory insects.
6. Let natural systems flourish and harmonize by minimizing maintenance. Yes, this one makes you work less! Allow leaves to remain on the ground, raking or sweeping them only off areas that need to be clear, like sidewalks, driveways, or lawn. Leave dead wood such as snags (dead or dying trees that won’t crash on someone’s head) and “down wood” —fallen branches, twigs, and bark—which are essential for wildlife habitat and soil health. Create brush piles or rock piles to help provide cover and possibly nest sites for birds and other small animals.
Best of luck with all your resolutions, especially the green ones!
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December 30, 2014
One Hundred Years: John Muir’s Legacy Lives On
Several days ago I intended to post a fairly comprehensive tribute to the “Apostle of the Wild,” John Muir, who died a century ago on Christmas Eve, but a cold got the better of me. Muir was enthralled with the earth and I count his writings among those that stirred my passion for nature; he was one of the great thinkers who made a prominent impression on countless others.
A Scottish immigrant, Muir studied natural sciences at the University of Wisconsin but became a naturalist, conservationist, geologist, botanist, philosopher, poet, and eventually a public figure, through what he called the “University of Wilderness” (although many actual universities, including Harvard and Yale, later granted him honorary degrees). His writings “belonged to that tradition of British naturalists whose work was so fused with the writer’s personality and so penetrated by individual feeling that their output was as much literature as science,” opined the L.A. Times the day after his death in 1914. Muir dedicated his life to the preservation of wilderness areas and national parks.
Tragically, Muir’s legacy is under attack. But in “John Muir’s Last Stand,” Tom Butler and Eileen Crist celebrate the man and the gifts he left us, while defending a wilderness movement that protects the wild, for its own sake. I could not have said it better.
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December 21, 2014
Winter Light, Winter Life
Do you long for spring? Fantasize about those warm summer evenings when the sun stays up past nine o’clock? Deny that winter has yet to officially start? Realize you’re eating dinner and curling under the bed covers earlier than just a month ago?
I’ve got it bad. Yesterday I found myself inspecting shrub and tree branches for next year’s growth and scanning the ground for the first spring bulbs. But here’s some good news: The days are beginning to lengthen again. Sure, we’re talking just minutes gained each day following the solstice, but it’s a start and I’ll gladly take every extra moment of daylight!
Winter is often thought of as a time of slumber—not just for us to catch a few extra winks, but also for the garden. While the colder, short days do tend to reduce some of the obvious vivacity of nature (especially in far northern, frozen latitudes), even in midwinter and beneath snow scientists have found that the soil thrives with living, breathing, developing microbes, some of which can freeze without harm. In the PNW our gardens are anything but sleepy. Amidst the amazing hubbub of microbial activity that helps provide a growth surge in springtime, plants’ roots are slowly developing in preparation for the demands of next year.
Since most people lack a keen interest in soil science, it’s the above ground doings that grab our attention. The “architectural” plants and other elements that remain standing all winter create the “bones” of the landscape, although texture, color, and movement enhance the view as well. I especially like to add such interest to areas that are frequently viewed, such as near an entryway or outside a cozy window seat. Wildlife appeal is also vital.
Native evergreen trees like cedar, spruce, and pine are popular because they’re always green and provide framework and privacy, but what may be most captivating is the texture of their foliage—especially lovely holding onto snow, however fleeting that may be in our neck o’ the woods. Broadleaf evergreen shrubs, including the glossy-leaved 
evergreen huckleberry (Vaccinium ovatum) and Oregon grape (Mahonia spp.), shade-loving salal (Gautheria shallon) and winter-blooming silk tassel bush (Garrya elliptica and G. fremontii), provide interest in all seasons. In sunny ground level situations, Kinnikinnick (Arctostaphylos uva-ursi) carpets the soil and cascades over rock walls with its attractive evergreen leaves and red fruits that persist into fall and beyond. In shade, the heart-shaped and often evergreen leaves of wild ginger (Asarum caudatum) inspire smiles.
The intricately divided fronds of the lovely deer fern (Blechnum spicant) hang around all winter, while the charming licorice fern (Polypodium glycyrrhiza) is a summer deciduous type that’s often found growing lushly amongst mosses. Speaking of deciduous, some shrubs just can’t wait until spring to bloom — like western hazelnut (Corylus cornuta var. Californica). Others, Indian plum (Oemleria cerasiformis) in particular, bloom at the cusp of spring.
Plants with colorful twigs or bark can steal attention, too, especially when planted en masse. Cornus sericea and other “red twig” dogwoods have an almost fiery bark that stands out, particularly against pale or very dark backgrounds, and the burnt orange bark of madrone trees peels to reveal smooth, olive-colored trunks and branches, and not just in winter. Snowberry (Symphoricarpos albus) gleams with its white, berrylike drupes, and wild roses, including Rosa pisocarpa and R. nutkana, produce strikingly red rosehips.
Elements of movement can be an enjoyable part of the winter landscape, too. Popular plants that provide a rustling motion as winter winds blow include grasses, such as Festuca idahoensis and Deschampsia cespitosa, which look best planted in swathes, and western sword ferns (Polystichum munitum) with their tall, sturdy fronds. While they are great accents any time of the year, grasses and ferns might be most impressive during the humdrum days of winter when they also provide structure and intriguing texture.
Needless to say, the best way to liven up the landscape is to encourage the presence of birds and other wildlife in the garden, and the best way to do that is with native plants that naturally occur in your region. To supply food and shelter from rain and cold, think evergreen trees such as western red cedar, western or mountain hemlock, Douglas-fir, or wax-myrtle. Allow seed heads to remain on perennials to provide food for birds (unless self-sowing poses a problem). Be sure to check plants’ needs before incorporating them into your yard or plan.
Whoever said that winter landscapes are drab and lifeless didn’t consider the possibilities. With a little ingenuity and planning, your garden can be a winter wonderland, in spite of short days.
Happy winter solstice!
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December 17, 2014
City Birds, Country Birds: Who Lives Longest?
American robin © 2014 Richard P. Weber
A study published recently in the journal Ecology reveals that some birds actually might live longer in urban or suburban settings, which ought to persuade those of us living in such areas to continue or strengthen our welcome of wild species in our yards.
Researchers used data collected over a 12-year period by “citizen scientists” to determine whether some species fared better in rural areas vs. much more heavily populated ones in the vicinity of Washington D.C./Maryland. Some native birds, like American crows, and nonnative species such as rock doves and house sparrows have long been known to flourish in urban areas. But for most bird species, the extensive loss of natural habitat and the increase of human disturbance generally cause profoundly negative effects on their lives.
In this study, four species coped better than their more sensitive country cousins. Gray catbirds (rarely found west of the Cascades) and northern cardinals (found mainly in the eastern half of the US) were found to live longer in urban areas than rural, whereas American robins and song sparrows apparently live longer in suburban spaces than rural. Three other east coast species studied showed no difference in longevity in the various habitats.
The study’s authors acknowledge that further study is necessary. For one thing, longevity doesn’t necessarily mean that the birds are successfully breeding and are without stresses; the study didn’t investigate the fecundity of the birds (reproduction often declines due to constant city noise and the acoustics of human-made hard surfaces, both of which make it difficult for birds to communicate), and the birds they studied are those that have adapted, to some extent, to the presence of people and our machines, concrete, and chemicals. Needless to say, the multitude of species that need quiet, undisturbed habitat, or have very specific needs can’t be studied in populated areas since they typically wouldn’t be found there.
Nonetheless, the results show that some species are more adaptive to our presence than others (such as the varied thrush that requires dark, peaceful forests in which to breed). Although urban and suburban areas generally host more predators (dogs, cats, raptors attracted to bird feeders), roads and vehicles, noise, and chemicals, the more adaptive birds may respond well to backyard bird feeders, artificial nest boxes and water sources, and the renewed interest in growing native plants in our yards. It’s highly likely that they are also able to live longer because their natural predators have been driven away or killed off.
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