Lupine lovelies

 

I have visited a patch of lupines along the lakeshore many times over the years. Whether these flowers are some of the various local wild species or are domestic escapees is unclear, but they have been there on their own for about a half century. Whatever they were in the past, they are now wild.

First are three pictures of some flowers themselves, then three pictures of their visitors.

On the leaves there were a number of jumping spiders. This one had captured a fly.

A golden dung fly was on the grass below the flowers.

Many pollinators were visiting the flowers, but the prize sighting was of the (nearly extirpated) Western Bumble Bee—undoubtedly a queen. This sighting is within metres of where I saw my first western three years ago.

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Paranthelion

 

Haloes are not all that common around Kootenay Lake—at least when it is compared with other places I have lived. Further, of all the many haloes that can be seen, the paranthelion is sufficiently uncommon that I cannot recall having seen one here before.

halo: rings, arcs or spots of light in the sky caused by ice crystals.
22° halo: circle centred on Sun having an angular radius of 22°.
parhelion: [lit. beside sun] coloured spots adjacent to a halo at the solar elevation. 
paranthelion: [lit. beside the point opposite the Sun] a colourless spot 120° degrees from the Sun.
parhelic circle: white line around the sky at the solar elevation.
• The Kootenay Lake website offers more pictures of haloes.

The first thing I noticed as the radiation fog was clearing Sunday morning was an unusually bright parhelion (also called a sundog because it dogs the Sun). The parhelion is the coloured spot near the center of this picture. The parhelion and the 22° halo (the nearly vertical line on the left) are both explained by the refraction of sunlight through plate-like hexagonal ice crystals. The difference is that the halo results from smaller tumbling crystals, while the parhelion is from larger horizontally oriented ones. These larger crystals will fall almost like (hexagonal) dinner plates spread out on a table. As the Sun rises above the horizon (here its elevation is 34°), sunlight passing through the horizontally oriented plates takes a skewed path. This shifts the parhelion outside the halo. Also seen in the picture is the parhelic circle—the white horizontal line.

The scene kept changing as cirrus drifted across the sky. This wider-angle view was taken a short time after the first picture. It shows parhelia on either side of the Sun, a portion of an upper tangential arc above the Sun and bits and pieces of the parhelic circle. The departing fog can be seen over the Lake in the lower right.

Finally, here is a nearly half-sky panorama. The 22° halo and its two parhelia are on the left, the parhelic circle extends across much of the sky, and the paranthelion is near the right edge of the picture. As this diffuse bright spot sits 120° from the Sun, it is also known as the 120° parhelion. The parhelic circle is explained by a single reflection of sunlight off the vertical sides of the hexagonal ice crystals. The paranthelion has a slightly more complex explanation. Sunlight enters the top of the crystal, is internally reflected in succession off adjacent sides of the crystal and exits the crystal bottom. The adjacent vertical sides of the crystal form a corner reflector with an internal angle of 120° and this deviates the light by the observed 120°. When parhelia are particularly bright, it is a good time to look for a paranthelion.

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Rainbow season

 

I always welcome the return of the rainbow season.

While a rainbow might appear on any occasion, the best of them usually arrive in late May or early June with the arrival of convective showers. The timing of this also corresponds to the spring freshet, so pictures of rainbows over the Lake at this time usually show high water: last year’s late-June rainbow panorama presented a rather satisfactory view of a rainbow reflected in the Lake. This observation shows many nice features of the rainbow, but the Lake was too ruffled to show a good reflection.

The rainbow on June 2nd shows many of the features of a well developed rainbow that forms in a summer shower.
1) The first feature to notice is that rainbow is a circle whose centre is the head of one’s own shadow. This means that the rainbow is a remarkably personal thing: each person sees his own rainbow—what you see is YOUR rainbow, not someone else’s.
2) The second thing to notice is that there are two rainbows: the primary (inner) bow, and the secondary (outer bow). The primary bow is explained by a single reflection of sunlight within a raindrop and has red on the outside; the secondary bow is explained by two reflections within the raindrop and has red on the inside.
3) The darkest region of the sky lies between the bows. This region is known as Alexander’s Dark Band.
4) Then there are the supernumerary bows, but more of that below with the next picture.
5) Well…, a rainbow aficionado will spot other nice features in this picture, but this will do for now.

I enhanced a small portion of the above scene to show the supernumerary bows. These are the bands that appear inside the primary (inner) rainbow. As I watched the bow, I could see three supernumerary bows. Certainly there is one (and maybe two) apparent in this photograph.

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Eggs and protests

 

Some birds protest vigorously if a human (or other perceived predator) passes anywhere near their eggs. The odd thing is that often this noise serves to reveal the presence of a nest that would otherwise be missed.

Emily Graeme sent me this picture of a killdeer near Nelson. It is standing over its eggs and vigorously protesting the presence of people in the area. Just as some people will buy a house near an airport and then complain about the noise, this killdeer had laid eggs around humans and then complained when they passed by.

Similarly, it was protestations of this robin that had built a nest within a meter of my home that alerted me to the fact that it was there.

Without the protests, I would have walked right past without noticing the eggs.

Meanwhile, on another side of the house, a robin chick has already left the nest. At the point the chick is mobile, the parents become more relaxed.

Emily Graeme’s picture is used with permission.

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Nuthatchery

 

Bird chicks demand obeisance. Nuthatch chicks are no different—their parents must dance to their demands.

I was fortunate to to be able to revisit the nuthatches at the Sanderson home (see, Tasty spider, m’dear?). The nuthatch couple now has chicks, and those chicks are being attended to by their diligent parents.

Two nuthatch chicks vie for food from a parent.

Now for a tasty beetle.

This picture makes it clear that there are three chicks in the nest. I cannot be sure of the insect being offered, although it looks somewhat like an earwig.

Nuthatch parents not only bring food for their chicks, they also clean out the detritus. Over and over, a chick would stick its butt out the opening and extrude some guano. The parent picks it up in its bill and carries it away.

And for no better reason than that it flew by, here is a heron.

 

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Gosling expectations

 

“We are looking forward to a promising future of, er…, embellishing your lawns.”

 

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Fairy slipper

 

The fairy slipper or calypso orchid (Calypso bulbosa) frequents cool, moist, coniferous forests, so what better place to look for it than beside our raging creeks of springtime. Yet, it is inconspicuous on the forest floor—calypso is a Greek word meaning hidden. And hidden is the keyword: two days ago, I spotted only one flower; today, while walking the same path, I managed to find over a dozen.

Here are three shots of what many consider to be our most beautiful wild orchid. These are followed by a bumble bee carrying what may be its pollinia.

In the past, I have only noticed the fairy slipper in isolation. So, this group was unexpected. Unfortunately, I could not move in for a closer picture as these fairy slippers were on a cliff ledge well below me.

I managed to get closer to two adjacent orchids atop the cliff.

Other fairy slippers seen were isolated.

Orchids (and a few other flowers, such as the periwinkle and dogbane) assemble their pollen into packets that the flower glues to the back of a bee. Here is a bumble bee (Bombus bifarius) carrying two pollinia (the yellow capsules between its wings). Whether these come from the fairy slipper cannot be determined, but it is a good possibility.

Posted in bugs, wildflowers | 4 Comments

Old growth or canyon?

 

Today, I go for a walk in Kokanee Creek Park.

I had been asked by a member of a local camera club to assess the suitability of the walk through the Old Growth Forest for a group excursion. Normally at this time of year, that trail is open and verdant. This year, however, it is not—or at least, not yet. There is snow on the road to the trailhead, a tree across the road, and considerable snow on the trail itself. Equally to the point, the wildflowers are not much in evidence at this altitude as yet. In a couple of weeks it will be much better, but for today, the trail through the Old Growth Forest would be a good deal of work for few photographic rewards.

So, my suggestion is to substitute it with the trail to the canyon in Kokanee Creek Park. I explored this low-altitude alternative yesterday. It is much better for photographic purposes. I saw five species of wildflower in bloom (false solomon seal, Oregon grape, arnica, wild strawberry, and a fairy slipper) and the views along the creek just call to the photographer. So, the walk up the canyon is my recommendation to this group.

Below are two pictures taken yesterday on a recce of the canyon walk. These are followed by one picture of a trillium taken two thirds of the way along the road to the Old Growth Forest the day before. Clearly, that trip was not without its pleasures.

 

Posted in scenes, wildflowers | 2 Comments

Two flying FOYs

 

A short time ago, I encountered the birder’s term, FOY, and didn’t have a clue what it meant. It refers to the First (observation of a particular species) Of that Year. Many birds have an annual variation, coming and going at roughly the same time each year. A birdwatcher notes these events in the same way that a weather enthusiast appreciates the first steam fog on the Lake in the fall.

Yesterday, I saw two FOYs. Others have spotted these birds already, but each was my first of the year.

I have been visited by the Rufous Hummingbird for a few weeks now, but this was the first Black-chinned Hummingbird to drop by. This male is showing flashes of iridescent purple on its gorget.

Bank Swallows are back. This appears to be a mating couple, but was it really necessary for the departing bird to kick all that dirt at the one left in the nest?

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Totally turtle

 

The Painted Turtle is our only indigenous turtle. I keep seeing it and taking its picture—I then ignore the images, and post about something else.

To make amends, here are three recent pictures of Painted Turtles taken from different places around the region.

 

Posted in herptiles | 4 Comments