Posts Tagged ‘fish’

Too Warm, Too Soon

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Tuesday, April 3rd, 2012

Brown Trout by Jack Ballard

By now the record-breaking warm temperatures of March is old news. By March 22 over 6,000 record highs were toppled across the United States for the month, 710 falling in a single day. Here in the northern Rockies we didn’t see quite as dramatically hot temperatures as in the Midwest or the East. Nonetheless, daytime high temperatures ranged from 10 to 20 degrees higher than average for March.

Golfers, anglers, joggers and tennis players are loving it. Evidently migrating birds are too. By early March I’d spotted my first bluebirds and meadowlarks. Red-winged Blackbirds came even earlier.

Red-winged Blackbird, adult male© Greg Lasley/VIREO

Those birds, like humans, may be living with a false sense of security. A quick look at record low temperatures for my home town of Red Lodge, Montana, reveals it can still plunge below zero (F) well into April. Such a devastating cold snap could have dire consequences for small songbirds and the budding trees whose sap is already running freely.

But thus far, the most troubling aspect of the unseasonably warm temperatures involves the snowpack. With nights barely reaching freezing or not creating frost at all, the snow banks around town have all but disappeared. The mountain snowpack is diminishing as well, something that generally doesn’t occur for another couple of months. If the snow goes early, mid to late summer may see little water in the creeks and rivers. The rainbow, brook, brown and cutthroat trout of Montana’s rivers are particularly vulnerable to low water. Less water in the streambed means what’s left is warmer. In years of low flow, the water can become so warm as to become lethal to trout.

In reality, it’s too early to worry. April and May can bring substantial snow to the high country. Everything might turn out fine, but I’m guessing the trout have their fins crossed.

Underwater Wonderment

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Friday, January 13th, 2012

Japanese Seat Nettle (Chrysaora melanaster) by Kent McFarland

 

Kent’s Aquarium Flickr Slideshow

Nearly 40 years later I can still remember my wide-eyed wonderment at watching the North Pacific Giant Octopus (Octopus dofleini) move about its tank. My parents often took us to Oregon State University’s Hatfield Marine Science Center during the winter when the weather outside wasn’t so delightful.

Whether you are an adult or a child, there is nothing like getting up close and personal to life underwater, and the easiest way for most of us is a visit to the aquarium. There are over 200 aquariums accredited by the Association of Zoos and Aquariums, so there is probably one near you.

A great way explore an aquarium is with a digital camera. A camera has a way of slowing us down to dig deeper into the underwater world unfolding right in front of our eyes. Some animals at the aquarium may be sensitive to a flash, so it is best to keep it turned off. Once home, you can learn more about the animals using Audubon Guides and other resources and share them with others.

Giant Green Anemone (Anthopleura xanthogrammica) by Kent McFarland

Whether you watch the amazing colors of tropical fish stream by you or see an octopus of the cold Pacific, I look forward to sharing in your wonderment through the lens of your camera. Post your shots on the Audubon Guides Facebook page for all of us to see the hidden underwater world.

Great Blue Heron

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Friday, December 9th, 2011

Great Blue Heron

Location: Ausable River, Adirondacks, New York

As a wildlife photographer, I spend a lot of time hoping to catch a frame or two of an interesting bird every time I’m in the field, even if I’m not specifically on an assignment to photograph birds. When I took this photo I was supposed to be catching trout on the Ausable River near Lake Placid, New York. The fishing was slow for me, but not for this great blue heron (Ardea herodias) which I spotted on a log on the opposite shore. He stood motionless, peering into the water. Several minutes clicked by, then suddenly he lunged into the lightly churning river. When he straightened up, he held a 5-inch rainbow trout in his bill. Another second later, the entire wiggling small-fry disappeared down his long graceful neck. The process repeated itself three times before Mr. Heron spread his massive 70-inch wings and glided away down the river.

The largest wading bird in the heron family, standing up to 55 inches from head to tail atop spindly long legs, I’ve always had a fascination with great blue herons. I’ve seen them in the Rockies, the Adirondacks and in Florida along both freshwater and saltwater shorelines. A subspecies (A. herodias occidentalis) in South Florida wade through the water in graceful all-white plumage, though the more common great blues are not exactly blue. Their flight feathers are slate-gray. They have a rust-gray neck and nearly white face with a black stripe from the eye to the back of the head.

For such large birds, great blue herons sure blend into their surroundings. I’ve had a couple take off only a few feet from me, causing a near heart attack. I’ve reciprocated as well. Several years ago, I was sitting in a blind on the Mississquoi River in Vermont when a great blue heron almost landed on my head. I’ve had friends complain that a heron moved into their neighborhood and cleaned all the fish out of their pond. Perhaps this one had harvested all of the trout in the Ausable River, or maybe I was standing on the wrong side of the stream.

Black Hills

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Wednesday, September 14th, 2011

What’s there to do in the Black Hills? Pose that question to most Americans and you’ll get one of two answers. Many will tout the merits of Mount Rushmore, a big cliff on a mountain where likenesses of four U. S. presidents were carved into the stone with dynamite and jackhammers. Others will likely drown your ear with memorable tales of Sturgis. Sturgis is home to what I believe is the largest motorcycle rally in the country, a place where upstanding dentists from Seattle trailer a pair of clattering, obnoxious Harley-Davidsons to South Dakota, rent an expensive motel room, then ride around acting equally obnoxious. If you love being annoyed by excessive noise from internal (infernal?) combustion engines, Sturgis is for you.

But these human-contrived attractions don’t tell the whole story of the Black Hills. Get beyond Sturgis and Rushmore, and there’s an incredible array of natural wonders to lure lovers of nature and solitude to the Black Hills. Custer State Park abounds with wildlife. Elk, mule deer, antelope, bison, and whitetail deer roam the among the park’s pines and prairie. Hiking trails and a handful of crystalline lakes are also found in the Black Hills.

I love the wildlife, but I’ve also recently discovered another diversion in this isolated range in western South Dakota. The trout fishing is outstanding. A couple weeks ago, my son and I idled away two days fishing Rapid Creek and Spearfish Creek. Our efforts were rewarded with numerous rainbow and brown trout, many caught in an unspoiled forest setting.

Visiting or passing through the Black Hills? There’s more than Rushmore and Sturgis. It’s a great place to get back to nature. It’s too bad more folks don’t realize it.

Spawning Rainbow Trout

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Friday, April 8th, 2011

Location: Colorado
There’s something about making that first cast of the year into a clear running river. To me, it means spring is here. While my feet are still happy to glide down mountains in ski boots for another week or two, they also welcome the chilly pressure of moving water over my wading shoes. Last week, I took a break from the slopes at Copper Mountain to spend a sunny afternoon on the Blue River, a nearby trout stream in Summit County. I didn’t catch anything, but it didn’t matter. My memories of a similar outing last March on the Yampa River near Steamboat made up for the lack of fish last week.
We floated our flies on the Yampa just as the rainbow trout (Oncorhynchus mykiss) made their spring spawning run. Each spring, rainbow trout swim upstream to the place where they were born to reproduce. The female fish lay their eggs in nests called “redds”, which they scoop out of the gravelly river bottom with their tails above a section of choppy water. She releases up to 8,000 eggs, which a male then fertilizes.
Rainbow trout reach sexual maturity earlier than other trout, often at the end of their second year, when they reach at least 12 inches in length. The largest rainbow trout ever caught in Colorado weighed 19 pounds 10 ounces (2003 in Morrow Point Reservoir). Though this one was a quarter that size, it was still an impressive fish and beautifully colored. When rainbow trout spawn, their color deepens, especially the telltale red stripe along their sides. We let it this one go, allowing it to continue on its upstream journey.