Pikes/Pines | A vote for Barred Owls, Capitol Hill ambassadors to the wild

A Barred Owl looking blending in beautifully in the bigleaf maples in the background (Image: Brendan McGarry)

If you have seen an owl on Capitol Hill in the past decade, there is a strong chance it was a Barred Owl (Strix varia). In our highly altered habitat melange full of rodents and other gulpable creatures, they reign supreme. These days, almost no other owl species are regularly seen on Capitol Hill.

I think Barred Owls are cool, but they also happen to be a sticky subject. They are recent arrivals, colonizers from Eastern North America. People paying attention to owl populations can agree that until the late 1990s, there were very few occurrences of Barred Owls in Washington State.

I recall a late 90s trip to Bainbridge Island to see a “for sure” pair of these owls during a 24-hour birding extravaganza. At that point in time it was worth the late night ferry trip even when our next destination was the mountains near Cle Elum. Today, that would be an absurd proposition (I suppose it always was but you get what I mean). I could probably choose any park on the Hill of decent size and adequate habitat and summon a Barred Owl with my moderately good impression of their barking,“Who cooks for you, who cooks for you owl” call.

Continue reading

Pikes/Pines | Capitol Hill garden comrades can start next season’s garden today with a little anti-capitalist seed saving

A Red Columbine seed head. (Image: Brendan McGarry)

I was doing laundry, dutifully emptying my pants pockets, when I came upon a little cache of seeds. Nestled into the seam was a handful of little roundish dark things that felt like pebbles when I probed the outside of the pocket. I knew exactly where they came from — the Red Columbine, Aquilegia formosa, I planted a couple years ago. At some point, I had walked by them, noticed a few lingering seeds in their cup-like seedheads, and emptied them into my pocket.

Tucking seeds away into any available container has become almost habitual for me over the past couple of years. It’s gotten to the point where I have to remind myself that I don’t need more seeds of certain plants. Now, I stow little baggies and old mint tins in my car and every bag I own. More than once this year I have found myself using a (clean, unused) dog poop bag to collect some choice seeds while walking the pooch.

It would be entirely fair to question this behavior. But it’s not new to me, or people, and it’s not clutchy hoarding — or, at least, not when I reign it in. I have been doing this in the little vegetable gardens I’ve had in my various homes over the years. Letting my kale, peas, and lettuce go to seed and collecting next year’s garden feels like a no-brainer and also supports pollinators.

What plunged humans into agriculture and in turn, year-round habitations around 12,000 years ago, was the knowledge of how to effectively grow plants from seed. There’s strong evidence that the first selective seed harvesting may have begun over 30,000 years ago, long before the dawn of agriculture. The food you buy from the grocery store literally rests on the knowledge our ancestors carried with them for generations. So to some degree I am just being a human.

But, why save seeds and not just buy them? There are many reasons to support certain seed producers — they have higher QC, their scaling and focus on growing seed means you can access more varieties with less fuss, and generally small businesses safeguarding heirloom plants are worth investing in.

In my instance, I am doing it as a low cost way to spread more native plants across my yard. Continue reading

Pikes/Pines | The fungus among us and Capitol Hill summer gardens is powdery mildew

Powdery mildew on a kale leaf. (image: Brendan McGarry)

I got a little overzealous when planting kale this year. In an effort to overcome the slugs that boomed this wet spring, I went hard and overseeded, banking on losing a lot or having to thin. And,  besides, we eat a lot of kale in our household. No big deal.

But then summer hit and we got busy and we didn’t inhale kale quite so much as I thought we would. Beautiful leaves kept filling in until our entire raised bed was covered. And with this dense, moisture trapping layer came powdery mildew — and lots of it.

Powdery mildew is a common summer affliction in this part of the world. Caused by a number of species in the Erysiphales order of fungi, even if you didn’t know the name of this plant pathogen, you’ve definitely seen it. The term powdery mildew is just a catch-all term for a number of species that infect plants worldwide, but it’s an apt description. It looks a lot like someone threw sifted flour all over a plant’s leaves.

What actually creates that layer of white are the mycelium of the fungus, spreading across the leaves and stems of the infected plant. Continue reading

Pikes/Pines | The native berries of Capitol Hill summer

The evergreen huckleberry (Image: WSU)

Every year, it’s harder and harder for me to feel excited about the Fourth of July. The waste, noise, and pollution is the most ridiculous way to celebrate a very dubious heritage (though I’ll admit having fun with friends and family outside is an exceptionally good way to spend a day). However, not only does the Fourth mark the end of Juneuary in my personal calendar, it also marks the beginning of berry season. The Pacific Northwest cup overfloweth with native berries to enjoy and that’s something to celebrate.

First, I will include the “Um, actually” part of this love letter to wild fruit. Not everything we call a berry is actually a berry in the botanical sense, even if from a culinary perspective we do. Botanists call any fruit grown from the ovary of a single flower a berry. They are mostly fleshy except for their seeds, which are inside the fruit. Blueberries are well named, while strawberries are not technically berries (though watermelons and tomatoes are). From the perspective of someone eating fruit, it really doesn’t matter that much, but several of the berries on my list below are not considered berries by botanists. But they also spend their days peering at the sexual parts of plants, so we can nod our heads and carry on enjoying these juicy capsules of sunshine. (Um, actually, if you like flowers, you too are a plant pervert.)

You might appreciate Himalayan Blackberries overtaking an unkempt corner or grow blueberries in a planter on your deck but we have many lovely native plants that bear lovely treats and have deeper roles to play in local ecosystems. These fruits have always been staples of the diet of the first people of the Hill and all across the Pacific Northwest. With plants as common as Salal and Trailing Blackberry, we can appreciate native plants and their connections to people and the more than human world. That’s what I think about when I consider the very muddled legacy of being an American – that we need to embrace the true heritage of the places many of us are at best guests.

But instead of being exacting and serious about the environment, genocide, and more, I am instead going to rank some native berries according to nothing but my personal opinions. I might as well be ranking 1996 hip hop albums releases, because I expect strong opinions and an overwhelmingly difficult time choosing the number one spot (just in case you were wondering, right now it’s Redman – Muddy Waters). And just like music, I am going to leave some options off the list because, well, they’re hardly palatable. The only requirement is that these “berries” need to have, at one point, grown on the Hill, and now find their way into our native gardens and restoration plans instead of maybe growing wild.

Osoberry (Image: Burke Herbarium Image Collection)

  1. Osoberry (Oemleria cerasiformis) – Leave ’em for the birds; too bitter for me to love them. Not only are they not actually berries, but drupes with a little pit containing the seed (true plums are also drupes). I’d rather eat their leaves, which taste a bit like cucumbers. And besides, as one of the first fruits to ripen, they get gobbled by the birds almost immediately and are already gone.

Continue reading

Pikes/Pines | Three apps to help you learn more online when you’re offline in the great outdoors around Capitol Hill

Jseattle gets around on iNaturalist

I will forever argue that finding people to learn with will always be better than learning only on your own. My recent escapades as a lifelong learner have had me diving deep into diverse topics like wooden spoon carving and contributing to the Washington Bee Atlas, where I started out “on my own.” Many people raised in the United State might have been subliminally led to believe that being “self-taught” is something to be deeply proud of. Certainly it can be. But this bootstrapping is just another way of saying you put in a lot of lonely hours into something. I took leaps and bounds in both these nerdy pursuits when I finally met some folks IRL – plus it was way more fun.

That being said, you don’t always have a bee expert at your side and we live in a brave new world of naturalist resources, often on our phones. With summer approaching, some of us spend more time outside and might even have some extra free time to ogle flora and fauna. It might seem ironic that in the days of disconnection from nature and an alarming decline of biodiversity worldwide, that we have more natural history apps than ever. But really it is because of this drifting away that people have developed said resources – we might need to get away from our phones more but we also might as well use them for good.

I might be willing to lug about a textbook called “The Solitary Bees,” but I wouldn’t recommend it. Your pocket computer has so much to offer and much of it is free. Here are three apps we should all have, that will make your summer more interesting, and might tell you what plants, bugs, and birds are about while sunning yourself at Cal Anderson. Continue reading

Pikes/Pines | The reliable Butter Butts are back on Capitol Hill

A “Myrtle” Yellow-rumped Warbler in winter plumage (Image: Brendan McGarry)

This time of year I am always listening for the next new arrival, no matter where I am. A surprise visitor is certainly more likely during spring migration — and, because I enjoy seeing common birds filter in and out as they pass by or arrive to breed. I have written about spring migration a lot on Pikes/Pines, but that’s because it is a source of renewed excitement about birds and phenology.

The same way we get excited about flowers blooming, seeing feathered friends arrive is a serious source of happiness and curiosity. Never is the movement of birds exactly the same each year because weather and other factors are never exactly the same – even with the help of Bird Cast and years of experience can’t you totally predict what birds show up (but boy, is it fun when you find that you’ve hit the mark). However, there’s always things you expect, like for instance Yellow-rumped Warblers (Setophaga coronata). Continue reading

Pikes/Pines | Three plants you might want to weed out of Capitol Hill ASAP

Hairy Bittercress, Common Foxglove, and Herb Robert can be beautiful — but you may not want to let them spread

I grew up with a mother who embodied the restlessness of the plant world – always dividing clumps of successful plantings, dealing with sudden uprisings of unplanned seedlings, and generally moving things about as season and biology allowed. If you own or live near a manicured garden, you know that it takes constant input to keep it looking a certain way. Mainly because nature abhors a vacuum and plants grow according to genes, which we only have partial control over. Humans are not masters of our surroundings, we are just a maintenance crew along for the ride of growth and decay.

The part of gardening no one likes is weeding. The end result might be satisfying but the effort involved and the endlessness of it is what drives people to the herbicide aisle. A more refined approach to weeding is trying our best to avoid it by sidestepping situations that lead to its necessity. But that’s not what I’m here to write about this week.

This topic of “weeds” is near and dear to my heart as I work to transform my yard into a more biodiverse space by including a host of native plants. Often what results from my clearing of vinca and blackberries are a host of introduced annuals laying in wait as seeds. I’m after a situation where I can leave things to a native seed bank. This may be a losing battle in a highly altered landscape but I soldier on.

However, knowing who is springing up can be a fun exercise, a way to honor the plants while learning how to usher them away. Keep your enemies close right? I find this lessens my frustration at finding a newly cleared area of my yard seeded with yet another unwanted plant. Here’s a few of the recent plants that have been on my mind and that you almost undoubtedly have seen on the Hill.

Hairy Bittercress (Cardamine hirsuta) Continue reading

Pikes/Pines | What your feathered friends need on a below freezing Capitol Hill

A Spotted Towhee looking out from food and shelter on a frozen day. (Image: Brendan McGarry)

We might not be able to translate Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs directly to our fellow creatures – afterall we don’t know how much things like belonging matter to a Northern Flicker. But it goes without saying that our feathered neighbors on the Hill all need food, water, and shelter above all else.

With some of the lowest temperatures in decades upon us, it’s a good time to remember what it takes for birds on the Hill to survive. Wild and free they may be and the list might seem simple, but boy, it’s real out there.

For birds, freshwater can be the hardest thing for birds to find when the temperature dips. What collects in a small indentation on a sidewalk or light morning dew can provide enough for a bird like a Song Sparrow, but freezing weather frequently takes this access away. If you want to help birds and other animals during periods of cold weather – give them access to water and find a way to keep it from freezing. Continue reading

Pikes/Pines | Oh, by gosh, by golly, around the Pacific Northwest it is time for… Dwarf Mistletoe and holly

Arceuthobium (Image: Stan Shebs via Wikipedia)

I don’t know about you, but I have never been to a holiday party with mistletoe. Maybe it’s because I grew up in the Pacific Northwest, or maybe it’s a generational thing, but I have zero recollection of a leafy plant with white berries hanging above me during a party. Or am I just admitting I wasn’t very popular growing up?

There’s actually a fairly good biogeographical reason.

While we do have several types of mistletoe in this part of the world, none are the species of lore Viscum album. Often just called Common Mistletoe, this parasitic plant is native to much of Europe and Asia. (Interestingly this species was introduced – and has become invasive – in California by that scoundrel Luther Burbank for holiday harvesting. You might recall he introduced Himalayan blackberries to our region.) These leafy evergreen globes perch in tree and shrub crowns and are quite obvious in the winter months, which might have something to do with prominence in multiple cultural beliefs across the plant’s range.

Mistletoe are a funny species to revere and to associate with things like fertility considering how they make a living. Though mistletoes can photosynthesize, the word of the day is “hemiparasitic” — These quasi-epiphytes have adapted to tap into the vascular systems of trees or shrubs that they grow on. Burrowing under live bark, mistletoes bury their haustorium, a root-like structure that allows them to siphon liquids and nutrients from their host plant. Common Mistletoe can parasitize over 200 tree and shrub species. So, maybe this success is really where an appreciation comes from.

The Pacific Northwest does have a leafy mistletoe that bears resemblance to the old world species. The well named Oak Mistletoe, Phoradendron villosum, enjoys the Oregon White Oaks of the Willamette Valley, doing a lot of obviously plant-like things such as having unmistakeable leaves, flowers, and fruit. However, you won’t encounter that species anywhere near Capitol Hill. What does grow in our area is less obviously a plant and only parasitises coniferous trees. Growing in evergreens, they aren’t easy to spot unless you know what you are looking for, which is part the reason you might have never heard of the Dwarf Mistletoes in genus Arceuthobium. Continue reading

Pikes/Pines | Birds on the Hill to be renamed (not after dead white guys)

A Steller’s Jay sleeping well knowing it’s not going the way of the Steller’s Sea Cow any time soon. (Image: Brendan McGarry)

I can finally breathe easily. Soon I’ll never have to get annoyed with people who spell Steller’s Jay, “Stellar.” Indeed they are stellar birds, but the moniker wasn’t bestowed from a need to emphasize their astronomical awesomeness. This common backyard jay, one we enjoy on the Hill, is named after Georg Steller, the German naturalist and physician aboard the Bering Expedition.  Ole Georg is long dead and holds the dubious honor of having multiple endangered or extinct animals named after him. My real reason for feeling a bit of relief is that this bird and dozens of others are slated to be renamed.

Who gets to name a bird? Well, it’s certainly not the birds themselves. At least where we live, the American Ornithological Society is the group of individuals in charge of naming and renaming birds. Don’t get me wrong – you can call a bird whatever name you like – but when we start to try to communicate about a specific species and we have wildly different names for them, it can be a little less than efficient.

The American Ornithological Society (AOS) announced on November 1st, 2023 that it will endeavor to change the English names of birds named after people, as well as those deemed otherwise offensive. (Flesh-footed Shearwater is a good example of offensive – it has pink feet.) For me, this was a welcome announcement and as a Scorpio, I considered it a personal birthday gift, and a signal that those in charge of an area of study I love are taking steps to right wrongs. For others it was the result of long conversations and hard work (I have written about the work of folks in the group Bird Names for Birds previously on Pikes/Pines). For some, it was at best a waste of time, and at worst just another step down the road towards woke-town where white people are being “discriminated against.”

Thankfully, the AOS did not bow and scrape to the latter of these opinions. Birding and ornithology has all types, but has historically been mostly a white male thing and still largely is. Thankfully that trend is changing, and the commitment to future name changes demonstrates that the AOS knows things need to be better. And that we don’t need birds named after Confederate Generals and slave owners, particularly for the argument of “history.”

This is also an exciting opportunity to name birds for their field marks, behavior, and natural history. Why do we need to celebrate some dead white guy who has next to nothing to do with the birds named after him? From the perspective of folks at the AOS the answer is: we don’t. Continue reading