Field Notes

Lunch with a Dragonfly

It is not every day that you share a lunch moment with a beautiful insect.

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

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 represent

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 squel

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 u

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 orang

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

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 ni

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.

Weight of Death, Leaves As Flowers

It is February and still these branches are dressed in a flutter of leaves. Golden brown with a dark midrib and branching pinnate veins.

A Winter Solstice Vignette

The first archaeological evidence we have that points to organized observances of the winter solstice come from the Neolithic period—that era from about 12,000 to 6,500 y

Seasonal camouflage and the consequences of transitioning color phase too early

Seasonal camouflage and the consequences of transitioning color phase too early

T̓at̓áyaqn (Bitterroot Salish) ventured to the plains yearly to hunt q̓ʷiq̓ʷay (bison)

Near Čmʔomʔotúlexʷ (Place of Smokey Land) or Yellowstone National Park, in -5-degree weather, I kneeled on my freshly skinned bison hide, which provided steaming warmth

Flock Talk: Conversing with Crows

I like to talk to the crows, though I don’t know what we’re talking about. Researching the subject, I learned that they have over 250 different calls.

A Spotted Coat of Concealment

Summer brings more than blue skies and hot days to Montana. It’s during this time of the year that white-tailed deer fawns are born.

Tortoiseshell Butterflies

It was too soon for swirls of cascading autumn leaves, and the formation of this sudden dispatch had a certain energy to it. This orange blast of color moved with purpose

Banding Together

Harriet the Osprey knew what was coming.

If I could only put that on paper.

There is a pine needle on my kitchen table. There is a pine needle in my soul. If I could only put that on paper.