If you have not been up in the mountains to see the flowers, now is the time to do so before the heat dries everything out.
The flowers are wonderful this year but beware of deer flies (a.k.a. horse flies). Why so many up there? Well, when you are a relatively small creature, finding the opposite sex in such a vast area of wilderness can be a problem. But if all the flies go to the top of the hill or mountain, they stand a better chance of finding a mate.
It’s like nature’s singles bar. Some butterflies do the same.
The deer flies we encountered up high must have been food-starved as well because they seemed more intent on gorging on the dead remains of splatted insects stuck on the back of the wing mirrors and the front of the truck.
There are lots of bumblebees in my garden this year…more than I remember seeing for a long time. I try to grow flowers (mainly perennials) that attract bees (bumbles, tiny native bees as well as honeybees).
Some of my flower spikes have as many as 4-5 bumbles on a spike at any one time. I am not good at identifying them, but it looks like there are several species.
Some very cool mornings we have observed a single dopey bumble in each of our large yellow daisies. The daisies act like parabolic reflectors and direct the sun’s heat onto the central (disc) flowers to warm them up to produce nectar and pollen.
The bumble bees take advantage of this mini hot house to warm their bodies because they cannot take off unless their flight muscles are warmer than 30C.
The hot weather is very hard on the bees, so make sure you leave out some water for them. Place some shallow bowls containing small rocks and water around the garden for bees to drink.
The other day going down the hill into town from the Telkwa side I was mesmerized by what appeared to be a peculiar-shaped, large drone gliding across the road. It seemed to have two vertical structures and two dangling below as it just floated above the highway until it reached the platform above the Par 3 where it landed. It was an osprey!
At least one of the several osprey families around the valley have left the nest.
The other day I suddenly heard a kerfuffle of noise as the pileated woodpecker that likes our big broken-topped cottonwood was making a racket. I suspected some other birds were admiring, and may have landed on, the same cottonwood and the pileated took offence.
The woodpecker’s raucous call was followed by several loud, piercing whistles (kyew, kyew) that went on for more than five minutes. As I looked up, I watched two adult and two immature ospreys circling around and around above my head and calling as if in joyful celebration that the whole family was successfully airborne.
It made my day.
