Missing in Action

Recently two neighbors commented to me how this year they are seeing fewer birds and small critters, like chipmunks and gray squirrels. One told me he and his wife put out nuts one morning for the squirrels, but the food was still there at the end of the day. What happened to the squirrels?

I’ve also noticed fewer animals. In April, I saw one mountain bluebird in the meadow where residents have installed nest boxes for them; since then, I’ve only seen one. Early in the spring I heard the eerie cry of the Western screech owl at night, but I haven’t heard it for more than a month. I used to occasionally see bats at night, but I haven’t seen any at all this summer, although it’s hard to see their dark bodies in the dusk or dark as they chase bugs.  

I’ve seen one rabbit this spring, and they are usually plentiful, chasing each other through the tall grasses or munching on them. Most mysterious is the lack of the gray squirrel (left), one of the dominant species that I thought would always survive because it’s so industrious: in fall it caches pine cones in trees and other places, which it survives on  all winter long.

Were there fewer pine cones last fall? Did the snow and cold that extended into June kill the insects that the birds depend on? Or is this part of the worldwide decline in insects? Did the fact that our flowers bloomed several weeks later hurt the birds and insects who depend on these flowers for food?

One clue might be the trail cam that my neighbors installed behind their cabin and near the creek. In a week’s time they recorded a bobcat and coyote, two animals that feast on ground squirrels, chipmunks and rabbits. But that doesn’t explain the decrease in gray squirrels, which largely hang out in the trees.

On the other hand, my neighbors are reporting unusual bear sightings—unusual because an adult and young bear have been seen during the daytime. Bears have become nocturnal to avoid human contact, but one feasted on my neighbor’s bird feeders one morning and then visited another neighbor’s deck. If bears are appearing during the day, does this mean they are more desperate for food or that they are still young and ignorant of the ways of humans?

One particularly depressing loss this year is the aspens, which look thin and sparse, and the willow bushes (above), some of which are completely dead. I’m seeing a lot of dead ponderosas around Meeker Park, and even the ones still alive  have a lot of dead branches. Are the trees dying because we had a particularly dry April this year?

I know that nature has its own cycles. One year an increase in bobcats means fewer smaller animals, but when the squirrel population decreases, the bobcats have less food, thus increasing their mortality, which could mean that the following year there are more rabbits. So many factors affect the rhythm of nature. Are these normal fluctuations or am I seeing the effects of climate change? I guess only time will tell.

Comments

[shoney]

Good questions, you and your neighbors are in such a great position to observe and reflect on the changes in animal and plants in the area. I'm always amazed at those animal cams and the secret life of animals that go about their business while we sleep.

[SusanR]

I've noticed my aspens look a bit bedraggled this year. I'm in town and they get plenty of water from the sprinkler system, but still they look sad and tired. Perhaps our higher temps and bad air are taking a toll. Still have a squirrel or two on occasion, but of course there are no natural predators here.

[Jennifer Woodhull]

Oh, jeez, Kathy—I suspect that you're getting a front-row seat to what's happening to our planet. These don't sound anything like "normal fluctuations." Here in the city, I'm somewhat buffered from the observations you're making at your cabin. The hum of the nearby freeway, the roar of motorcycles revving at the stop sign outside my window, the deafening strains of hip-hop blasting from a passing car—all of this distracts me from the fact that there seem to be far fewer birds in the junipers in front of my building. I noticed it down at DKD when I was on retreat there in May, as well: in the densely forested foothills of southern Colorado, where you'd expect to see and hear birds in abundance, there was an eerie silence. I caught sight of the odd hawk or magpie—a couple of times, a hummingbird buzzed close to examine my red shawl as I meditated on the balcony—but it seemed odd that there were so few birds to be seen. Your description of the aspens and other trees is heartbreaking. I wish I could offer an optimistic prediction for next summer, but my best guess is that it's downhill from here.

[Julene Bair]

It's saddens me to read your report of the state of wildlife around your cabin. Every time I go for a hike or go camping I feel that I am savoring What is left of a diminishing world. I know that in the long term nature will revive itself even if we are not part of that resurgence. I wish we could leave our state of denial and begin in earnest reversing the destruction we've caused.

[Kathy Kaiser]

Jennifer, I'm sad to hear that you saw and heard so few birds at DKD. I'm trying to be optimistic about the future, but it's difficult.

[Kathy Kaiser]

Julene, I have the same reaction when I'm in nature: How much longer will I be able to enjoy this?

[Kathy Kaiser]

Susan, like you, I wonder if our polluted air, as well as heat and dryness, take their toll on the trees. I wouldn't be surprised.