July 25, 2019 by mattbuckinghamphotography

The Land of Enchantment Part Two: Biodiversity in the Sangre de Cristos

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From the high plains we continued west, deeper into the Land of Enchantment. As we gradually climbed in elevation, our surroundings changed from shortgrass prairie to sagebrush flats to Rocky Mountain foothills dominated by pinyon and juniper. It was in the latter community that I saw something slink across the road ahead of us, which I took to be a coyote. We pulled up to where I saw the animal and got out, but after scanning the area a few minutes found nothing. We returned to the truck and moved forward no more than a hundred yards or so when Caro shouted, “There it is!”. The rest was a bit of a blur of excitement, however what I do remember is seeing that something didn’t look right for a coyote. Quickly grabbing the binoculars I focused on what turned out to be two animals about 50 yards away. In that moment I heard Caro shout “Son Pumas!”, and it became clear, as I focused on two young pumas staring at us. Quickly I pulled off the road and fumbled for my camera gear, but they took off immediately. I had managed a few distant shots of their tails, when something burst out from the brush about 30 yards away and went after them. We assume this larger, more strikingly colored individual was their mother. Again I only managed a shot of her back as she ran off, but this encounter with a trio of Mountain Lions was more about the experience than the photos. This is a species I had always dreamed of seeing during the western explorations of my childhood, but despite being in the right habitat so many times, I never did. Instead, I would finally come face to face with them in a chance encounter when I least expected it. That evening we continued into Taos, and looked longingly to the Sangre de Cristo Mountains towering around us, eager to immerse ourselves in their beauty.

Young Pumas retreating.

Adult Puma retreating

The next morning we set out into the semi-arid foothills around Taos in search of garnet and staurolite, two interesting minerals known to occur in the vicinity of the Rio Grande. Our search took us through rugged 4×4 roads which I enjoyed navigating. Along the way we stopped to admire a cast of unfamiliar wildflowers. Of particular interest were several species of Penstemon. I later learned that there are some 40+ species of Penstemon in New Mexico! While we saw only a fraction of this diversity, we were quite taken with the species we did observe. Growing among pinyon and ponderosa pines we found Penstemon virgatus. This species is apparently quite variable, and its flowers may be blue, purple, pink, or white.

Penstemon virgatus

Growing nearby we found Penstemon inflatus, a New Mexico endemic.

Penstemon inflatus

Slightly higher in elevation we spotted the five-foot tall Penstemon palmeri. It may have been the most impressive penstemon I’ve seen, with a spike of huge, tightly packed pink blooms. In general, penstemons are not particularly fragrant. This species, however, filled the air around it with a strong, sweet aroma.

Penstemon palmeri

Higher still we found several clusters of Penstemon strictus, a unique, beautiful addition to the flora of the region. Many species of penstemon are popular in the world of horticulture, and make excellent additions to a native garden.

Penstemon strictus

Growing among the Penstemon virgatus and P. inflatus we found several Sego Lilies (Calochortus nuttallii). These beautiful, dainty blooms grew in clearings in the pine-dominated foothills.

Sego Lily

Along crystal clear streams swollen from rapidly melting snow in the high country, we found abundant thickets of Woods’s Rose (Rosa woodsii). This native rose decorates the countryside with its pink blooms and fills the summer air with its sweet aroma.

Woods’s Rose

After searching for the better part of a day, we finally found several pieces of schist bearing the minerals we were after. It was these minerals that prompted Caro to suggest a trip to the area, and the excitement we shared after finding them was one of the highlights of the trip. The discovery came after a long hot morning of searching, right as an early afternoon thunderstorm bore down on us. Hail and lightning caused us to retreat to the truck, where we waited out the weather and resumed our search with renewed intensity. The rocks of interest were much easier to spot as they glistened, wet with rainwater.

With our thirst for rockhounding satisfied, we opted to spend the rest of the day in the high country, and made our way into the lush montane forests of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. The Sangre de Cristos run from southern colorado into northern New Mexico. In their northern reaches they contain a number of “fourteeners”, that is mountain peaks over 14,000 feet in elevation. They are a bit shorter here, but Wheeler Peak (the highest point in New Mexico) still climbs to over 13,000 feet and is a short distance from Taos.

As we climbed in elevation we began to notice a wealth of mountain wildflowers. We were still too early for the incredible display of wildflowers that bloom in the summer in subalpine meadows of the Rockies – truly one of the most spectacular wildflower shows on the planet – but there were still plenty of floral diversity to admire.

Large colonies of Rocky Mountain Iris (Iris missouriensis), for example, painted clearings above 8,000 feet. Most of these delicate blooms were damaged by recent rain and hail, yet I managed to find a few fresh individuals to photograph.

Rocky Mountain Iris

Along wet seepage slopes and seep-fed streams we found the lovely White Marsh Marigold (Caltha leptosepala) in bloom.

White Marsh Marigold

The most impressive wildflower displays were to be found in the shade of forests dominated by Engelmann Spruce, Subalpine Fir, and Douglas-Fir. Here we found several species growing in close proximity, including Rock Clematis (Clematis columbiana), Western Red Columbine (Aquilegia elegantula), and Franciscan Bluebells (Mertensia franciscana).

Rock Columbine

Western Red Columbine

Franciscan Bluebells

The most exciting discoveries, however, were the orchids. I have long been fascinated by this family of peculiar plants, and was happy to finally see a number of species I have long wanted to photograph. In one patch of forest we found three species of the myco-heterotrophic genus Corallorhiza. I have written about one of these species, C. wisteriana in one of my first blog posts. Myco-heterotrophy refers to the process of obtaining nutrients and energy by parasitizing the mycorhizzal fungi of tree roots. Orchids of this genus are completely dependent on these fungi for survival, and have even lost the ability to photosynthesize. The lack of leaves and the green pigment chlorophyll makes spotting them a real challenge. This difficulty made finding them all the more rewarding.

I did not photograph the C. wisteriana that we observed, but I couldn’t resist photographing the beautiful blooms of the Striped Coralroot (Corallorhiza striata). This species has been recorded in the Guadalupe and Chinati Mountains of Texas, but is by all accounts very rare. We found only a single plant growing on a rocky wooded slope.

Striped Coralroot

I think I probably jumped for joy when Caro called out that she had found a Spotted Coralroot (Corallorhiza maculata). This species has also been recorded in Texas, in the Davis and Chisos Mountains, and like the Striped Coralroot is believed to be very rare. It turned out to be the most common orchid of the trip, and we found dozens in various stages from newly emerging flowering stems to individuals in full, splendid bloom like the one pictured below.

Spotted Coralroot

The absolute floral highlight of the trip however, and perhaps second only to the pumas in terms of overall trip highlights, was finally encountering a species that I had dreamed of seeing since I was a little kid pouring through field guides and coffee table nature books – The Fairy Slipper Orchid (Calypso bulbosa). This orchid always seemed so exotic to me. As a kid, I probably hiked past many not knowing where or how to look. On this trip, however, Caro and I spotted many on the mossy floor of a spruce/fir forest at 10,000 feet in the Sangre de Cristos. I photographed them as I breathed in the chilly mountain air and listened to the rushing waters of a creek swollen with snow melt.

Fairy Slipper Orchid

Fairy Slipper Orchid

Soon our time in the Land of Enchantment came to an end. We were sad to say goodbye to the Sange de Cristos, but grateful for the enrichment they provided us. The Rocky Mountains hold a very special place in my heart, as it is where I fell in love with nature as a young boy, and I was glad to introduce Caro to them, and see on her face the same sense of awe and wonder that I feel for these very special places.

July 12, 2019 by mattbuckinghamphotography

The Land of Enchantment Part One: Flora and Fauna of the High Plains

Pronghorn Buck

When westward expansion was gripping the nation during the 19th century, the American frontier was not defined by the towering mountains and rugged desert that exemplify the term today, but rather endless expanses of prairie inhabited by millions of American bison, pronghorn, elk, wolves, and grizzly bears. As countless wagons wore ruts into the prairie’s earth, black-tailed prairie dogs kept a watchful eye for badgers and black-footed ferrets, and a chorus of thriving grassland songbird populations filled the air.

Today, the prairie is a very different place, however standing in an un-plowed stretch of prairie in Union County, New Mexico that reached from horizon to horizon, I could imagine what it may have been like. I was overwhelmed in a land that seemed so initially sparse. But here, the diversity is in the details. A diversity of nondescript grasses and small wildflowers, pollinators, and cryptic prairie denizens.

It had been years since I explored the natural wonders of the aptly named Land of Enchantment. New Mexico is one of the most biodiverse states in the country, and contains a wide array of habitat from alpine tundra to low desert. Our ultimate destination in the state was the sagebrush laden foothills around Taos and the high peaks of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Our journey would first take us through some of the finest expanses of shortgrass prairie in the country.

In the prairie around the base of Capulin Volcano, we found large groups of blooming Silvery Lupine (Lupinus argenteus). This species also occurs in Texas, but is rare and confined to a few sites in the Panhandle near the border. These New Mexican prairies, however, were loaded with them.

Silvery Lupine

There are apparently some 11 varieties of Lupinus argenteus in New Mexico, which can make their identification a bit tricky. We found at least two varieties growing in close proximity.

Silvery Lupine

We also found Nebraska Lupine (Lupinus plattensis) blooming here, but its flowers were far past prime. This species has been recorded in the Texas Panhandle as well, but like the Silvery Lupine, is very scarce.

Growing among the lupines were several other wildflowers, including several Wholeleaf Indian Paintbrushes (Castilleja integra). I have always been fond of this genus of hemiparasites.

Wholeleaf Indian Paintbrush

James’s Penstemon (Penstemon jamesii) was also common in this area. This lovely plant is named for Edwin James. James was one of the first anglo naturalists to explore the American West. I strongly recommend reading more on this fascinating and influential figure who discovered, collected, and described many western species.

James’s Penstemon

Near Capulin we found a single Spinystar (Escobaria vivipara) in bloom. Further west, and at a higher elevation in Colfax County, however, we found several. I was thrilled to find this tiny prairie cactus, which would have been essentially invisible if not for the bright pink blooms.

Escobaria vivipara

Growing at 8,000 feet I spotted a sea of blush swaying among the greens and grays of broad meadow. It was Prairie Smoke (Geum triflorum). This iconic prairie plant is named for its puffy achenes which resemble billowing smoke of a distant fire. These can be seen developing in the background of the photo below. Geum triflorum was long used by native cultures as a medicinal plant, and is purported to help a variety of ailments.

Prairie Smoke

Years ago, during my family’s annual trek west, I always looked forward to spotting Pronghorn (Antilocapra americana) in the vast plains of eastern New Mexico. This year we saw more than I ever remember seeing back then. It was no doubt due in part to Carolina’s eagle eyes, however I like to think that the species is continuing its nearly century long rebound from near extinction in the early 1900s.

When Europeans first visited the West, there were an estimated 35 million pronghorn roaming the plains. By the turn of the 20th century, it is estimated there were barely 10,000 left. That’s a population decline of over 99.999%. Like the American Bison, the open country that the pronghorn called home made them easy targets for hunters. Fortunately, in the 1920’s conservation efforts began to protect both the species and its habitat, and today some estimates put the population at nearly a million.

Pronghorn Buck

The pronghorn is a species that is at the same time, beautiful, bizarre, graceful, and gangly. They are supremely adapted for life on the prairie, and for speed and endurance. Adaptations like enlarged lungs, windpipes, and hearts, interlocking grooves in their joints that allow for a unilateral line of travel, and an enhanced circulatory system make them the fastest sustained runners on the planet.

Despite commonly being referred to as antelope, pronghorn are note closely related to true antelope, which are restricted to the Old World. They are the only surviving member of the family Antilocapridae, which evolved in North America during the Miocene. They’re extreme speed and endurance is believed to have evolved as a defense against the extinct American cheetah, which would have been a major predator of their habitats. Today there are no predators that can come close to matching an adult pronghorn’s speed or endurance in open country. Enlarged eyes with a field of vision of nearly 320 degrees that can spot a potential threat two miles away ensure that a potential predator would rarely get the chance to test this theory. I can’t help but think that old pronghorn bucks know this, as they rarely seem concerned with my presence, even in areas where they would seldom encounter humans. When I drop low to the ground, however, their tone changes as can be seen in the intense stare of the huge buck pictured below.

Pronghorn Buck

I could have easily spent a few days photographing pronghorn for as long as the light would allow. We saw bachelor groups, solitary dominant bucks, and does with fawns. This iconic species is as good a poster child for the prairie as any, and I can’t wait to be in the speedgoat’s presence once more.

The prairie saved one of her best surprises for last. After spending a few days in the vicinity of Taos, we made the return trip through the high plains toward home. While driving a remote stretch of prairie road I heard Caro call out “FOX!” I glanced in my rear view in time to see a pair of tawny, house cat sized creatures. Turning round, we were able to fix our gaze on a pair of Swift Foxes (Vulpes velox) lounging near their burrows. We watched them for some time, and I captured a few documentation photos. I had hoped to approach a bit closer for higher quality images, but they were quick to retreat to their burrows. We waited for some time, but the wind was not with us and we soon concluded it was a futile attempt. We left content in having captured a glimpse of this elusive prairie denizen.

Swift Fox

My parting shot for this blog entry is an image of a double rainbow taken after we passed through a late afternoon thunderstorm. The cool air, smell of wet grass and earth, sound of distant thunder, and broad view of the prairie perfectly sum up the magic I felt here, at the western edge of the Great Plains.

Double Rainbow

July 7, 2019 by mattbuckinghamphotography

A Bucket List Beetle

Bumelia Borer

It seems like I’m always writing about something that “I’ve wanted to see since I was a kid”. That’s because, presumably like most of my lifelong naturalist friends, I spent much of my childhood pouring over field guides and natural history books, and dreaming of one day finding the beautiful and fascinating organisms contained within. In that respect, my bucket list grew very, very long.

Readers of this blog have also likely noticed that I love beetles. My passion for these armored insects began in earnest in 7th grade, when my first life sciences teacher, Mrs. Powell, tasked us with putting together an insect collection. I already had a strong passion for nature and science thanks to my parents, but Mrs. Powell’s assignment opened up the exciting world of insect hunting and collecting to me. I have continued to collect on and off throughout the years, though today I very rarely take specimens, preferring to record encounters with my camera.

After 7th grade, we moved from Chicago to Texas, and it opened up a whole new world of entomological wonders to me. I bought field guides on Texas insects, and immediately started marking the species I wanted to see. With the help of my parents, I targeted some of these. I remember one trip in particular, when my mom took my brother, a friend, and I on a trip toward College Station to find my first Ironclad Beetle, which I did, along with my first Wheel Bug, IO Moth, and a Striped Bark Scorpion.

Over the years my passion for insects waxed and waned, as it competed with other budding interests like birds and plants. Yet I always kept a soft spot for beetles.

One species that I immediately noticed in my Texas Field Guides was the Bumelia Borer (Plinthocoelium suaveolens), a spectacular long-horned beetle that is, in my opinion, a serious contender for the most beautiful beetle in the country. Though this species would likely be relatively easy to find due to its host specificity and propensity to visit bait traps, I had never made the effort. I had found bits of elytral and exoskeletal remains on a few occasions in central Texas, but had yet to see a live individual.

This all changed last weekend, when I visited the Nature Conservancy’s Nash Prairie Preserve. Here I found an absolute bounty of pollinators visiting the sea of blooming Rattlesnake Master in this exceptionally high quality coastal prairie remnant. I photographed Trigonopeltastes delta, a beautiful flower scarab, and watched Carolina Mantis nymphs as they sat in ambush on the Rattlesnake Master’s flower heads.

Then I saw a massive flying insect, which appeared iridescent bluish black with an orange abdomen, and I initially took to be some manner of spider wasp. When it landed, however, I instantly recognized it as the species I have so long wanted to see.

I followed this spectacular beetle around the prairie for over an hour. It was uninterested in my presence, and allowed for a very close approach as it moved from flower to flower feeding. This species comes in a variety of color morphs, and I was lucky to see one with elements of turquoise and cobalt blue. For me, it’s beauty ranks right up there with the spectacular jewel beetles of the genus Chrysina found in West Texas.

Observing this beetle was one of those magical experiences that happened when I least expected it, and it was made all the more special by the incredible setting of the Nash Prairie – a testament to the importance of this place and the conservation work of the Nature Conservancy and other organizations like it.