It's common to see baby wild animals outside during spring as a new generation makes its way into the world. Sometimes you’ll even see these babies alone, with no parent in sight. For animal lovers, the instinct to help can be difficult to ignore. But unless the animal is truly orphaned or injured...
On summer evenings, my husband and I head to the darkest spot of our property to look for the light—in the form of fireflies rising from meadow grasses and twinkling their way into the trees. As the tulip poplars behind this spectacular display settle in for slumber, white yucca flowers open their...
The woodland phloxes bring the heavenly scents of spring, and the fireflies bring the sparkling lights of summer. Even in the depths of winter, cardinals, white-throated sparrows, northern flickers, mourning doves and squirrels bring all the music and entertainment we could ever need—right in front...
In a few short months, the sweet scent of thawing soil will have me searching under trees, by streams and in gardens for new life peeking into the frosty air. During winter’s dark days, it’s hard to imagine anyone more excited about spring’s brave first blooms. But just below ground, creatures on a...
My husband and I were contemplating whether to hike the 3-mile trail in Utah’s Zion National Park that September day. I’d read that this trail was our best chance to spot bighorn sheep, but after a week of exploring the five national parks in the state, our bodies were tired—and it was already late...
Four conservation and animal protection groups sued the Trump administration today over its secretive new policy of approving elephant and lion trophy imports behind closed doors. The lawsuit targets a U.S. Fish and Wildlife decision, outlined in a March 1 memo, to shut the public and scientists out...
Sitting on her porch in the desert one afternoon while recovering from surgery, Christine Hass closed her eyes. The operation to fix her detached retina had been difficult, and she sought respite from the lingering pain. “Suddenly I could hear all the birds singing. It was March—the migrants were...
They were like moths to a flame or, more accurately, butterflies to a native plant. No sooner had I unloaded two joe-pye weed perennials from my car last August than three tiger swallowtails dive-bombed the pots, as if to validate my purchase. If only my fellow shoppers knew what they were missing...