AUGUST - FLOWER MEADOWS

The poet who was so emphatic about the rareness of a day in June would find himself about two months ahead of time were it possible for him to visit the sub-Alpine meadows of "The Mountain" at this time, the first week in August. For the height of the flower season is at hand! The large, showy, white flowers of the Western Anemone, so plentiful a few weeks ago have now been transformed almost entirely into the distinctive seed clusters -- large, silky grey clusters that dot the hillsides like miniature feather dusters on every hand. Two species of Indian Paintbrush lend their vivid red and brilliant orange to the medley of color that includes the blue of the Lupine, the yellows of the Arnica, the Senecio and of the Mountain Dandelion. And of course we cannot forget the Heathers. Three species of them are common at this time -- the Red, the White and the Yellow -- a triumverate that would make any Scotsman get up "ear-r-r-ly in the morning".

Here and there among the more showy blooms we find the Speedwell or Veronica, a small blue flower whose real beauty can be better appreciated on close examination, while the many snow-fed streams and rivulets which cascade down the hillsides are rich with the deep, warn colors of the Red and Yellow Monkey Flower, or Mimulus, that have their shallow roots anchored in the moist soil of these streams. These well known wild flowers - members of the Snapdragon family - are at present just coming into their best. In a few days they will have reached the height of bloom; it is then that we may trace the course of the mountain streams for long distances by the color of these flowers which grow in such profusion in this moist habitat.

Then, too, the moist habitat seems to be a favorite of the Shooting Star and White Marsh Marigold as well, for where the waters of the melting snowbanks spread out over the level areas below to form marshy bogs we find these two; the former related to the Cyclamen, a favored house plant, and the latter bringing to mind, through its relationship, the Cowslip. One need not venture far afield to find most of the "Mountain's" flowers -- nor does famialiarity breed contempt, for their numbers are so great and the species so varied that the hiker is continually finding something new and interesting to attract his attention. There are species that grace the meadows, the deep woods, the rocky cliffs and those "flower pioneers" that inhabit the barren, rocky soil that has been recently relinquished by the glaciers.

THE WHISTLING MARMOT

From Indian Henry's Hunting Ground we scrambled up the side of craggy Iron Mountain which acts as a sheltering wall for the budding flowers and fir trees in the meadows of Indian Henry. Climbing out on one of the rocky promontories to take a picture of the meadows below, we heard a shrill whistle from the slopes below us. We immediately began to look for the cause of the whistle and accidently dislodged a rock which, as it rolled down the side of the mountain, scared the Marmot away enabling us to distinguish his greyish brown form from the rocks as he ran. I whistled to him and to my suprise he stopped, sat up, and whistled as if in answer to me. Again I whistled and again he answered. This was repeated several times always with this high pitched whistle for an answer from this little creature of the rocks.

This whistle may remind one of the traffic officer's whistle; yet never are we favored with such polite response from the officer of the law as we are from the Whistling Marmot.

Adam Rhodes, Park Ranger.

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