By Eden Donahue
It’s time for Field Notes, brought to you by the Montana Natural History Center.
When a friend suggested the backcountry Master Naturalist course through Swan Valley Connections years ago, I couldn’t resist. I was an avid day hiker but had not experienced overnights in the backcountry. Backpacking with a syllabus - I’m in! I’m a professor, so the combination of learning while being in nature was cohesion at its finest.
Tottling around the trailhead parking lot with 50 pounds of gear, I remember a distinct feeling of humility. Seven strangers, one best friend, and me - ready for an adventure.
The first hike was six miles with 2,000 feet of elevation gain. At the time our trail leader started saying “just one more mile,” I realized that it was not just one more mile and my shooting knee pain was getting worse. Great, my first time backpacking and I’m going to be the one airlifted out. As a nurse, I’m a terrible patient - not because I know everything but because I’m supposed to be the caretaker.
So when someone I’d met a few hours before offered to help, I adamantly refused. I was fine (I wasn’t). Limping up 1000 feet the last two miles with a pack, I wasn’t fine - I was stubborn. Sitting by the lake at the end of the day, I had two choices: continue on and risk injury or rely on the kindness of strangers. After a few stretches curated by the stranger, my pain was gone.
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. Stark, sun-bleached bark with hand-like needles, five in a bunch, reaching for the sky, for other worlds, for cooler temperatures, for continuation.
As we climbed the next day, I saw dozens of whitebark pines nestled among the stony ridges, wearing bejeweled lakes as a necklace. Sitting on the lakeside beach, huddled under cover of spruce trees, we learned about the Clark’s Nutcracker and their relationship with the whitebark pine. And then, I saw my first Clark’s Nutcracker as she flew into a tree to inspect the disturbance of her usually quiet beach. Black, iridescent wings against a stark grey body with a beak designed for cracking.
The whitebark pine and the Clark’s Nutcracker have a symbiotic relationship where they have grown and adapted together. Most whitebark pine cones grow horizontally, offering the perfect perch for the Clark’s Nutcracker to drill its beak into the sealed cone to get a nutritious, pea-sized seed. Unlike other pine cones, whitebark pine cones don’t open so they must rely on other species to distribute their seeds. By weight, these seeds contain more calories than chocolate! The Clark’s Nutcracker has developed a seed-carrying pouch under its tongue, a perfect cargo hold for up to 90 seeds—or a third of a chocolate bar in calories— which is impressive for a bird whose average weight is two to three chocolate bars! A Clark’s Nutcracker can cache (or store) over 30,000 whitebark pine seeds across miles of rocky, windswept landscapes.
On the beach, I found myself wondering if the Clark’s Nutcrackers share their joy and humility with the whitebark pine as they try to remember where their cache is? At what point did living in the same ecosystem become more of a cohesive relationship with shared resources?
As the lesson ended, my helpful, stretchy stranger stood up with an astonished look; he’d been sitting in sap! “Well, this is a sticky situation,” he said. We shared a laugh, then jumped in to help. This moment in the backcountry turned us into friends. Friends who relied on one another and shared resources.
At the end of the naturalist course, we were expected to give a presentation. I chose the whitebark pine, but when it was my turn to present, I was overcome with emotion. So this is my long-overdue homework for the never-ending assignment of being a part of the natural world and recognizing our mutual reliance and connection.
Today’s Field Note was written in the Field Notes Writing Workshop at the Montana Natural History Center. I’m Eden Donahue for Field Notes, brought to you by the Montana Natural History Center, providing natural history education for schools and the public throughout Montana. For information on upcoming events and programs at the Center, call 406.327.0405 or visit our website at MontanaNaturalist.org.
