Lunch with a Dragonfly
It is not every day that you share a lunch moment with a beautiful insect.
Field Notes
Nature notes and inquiry from the Montana Natural History Center.
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Speed on the Prairie
I drive the dirt roads that stretch for miles across the grasslands. I drive slowly as the roads are rutted and rough and cross open cattle range. I often spot pronghorn running in the distance.
Caching in on Cohesion
That first night, I tried to remember all I had learned but the details were lost. What I do remember is the gnarled, gray twisted bark of the whitebark pine: a representation of strife, turmoil, and persistence.
Unearthing Secrets: A Day in a Montana Fen
Squoosh. Squoosh. My feet, encased in calf-high rubber boots, sank into the thick sphagnum moss, and water crept up to my ankles. I pulled one foot free with a loud squelch, lunged towards the nearest hummock, then rescued my other foot.
It Began With A Heron
It was an unseasonably warm first week of January. One late afternoon, as golden sunlight hid behind grey stratocumulus clouds hanging over the Clark Fork River, I came upon a Great Blue Heron.
Lichens
I can’t stop staring at them. Their beauty seems otherworldly; they’re radiantly fluorescent against the snow. It’s almost scandalous, that neon green, that buzzing orange.
For the Wiley Coyote, Resistance is Fertile
At twilight, from my house in the sage, I hear the underdogs singing outto each other. Sometimes, I swear, it almost sounds like laughter.
Clam Digging at 8,000 Feet, A Love Letter to the Oceans of Eastern Montana
The first oceans I explored as a child were those of eastern Montana. I spent nearly three decades of my life in ancient oceans before I ever got my feet wet in a modern living ocean.
Small Wonders in Missoula’s North Hills
Missoula phlox, or Phlox missoulensis; A species named after a town named after a beloved waterway the Salish call nmesuletkʷ, roughly translated to “cold water.”
Montana Night Is Calling
I have chosen Montana as my home and embrace her seasonal night sounds, from silent snowfall on a barn roof to owls, nighthawks, and everything in between. The Montana night is calling and I must go.
Oh-Gee-My-Feet-Are-Cold Meadowlarks
Sometimes the ordinary would be broken when my mother pointed out the window and exclaimed, "Oh, look. A meadowlark!" She believed that seeing a meadowlark was a gift.