Shrubs often fail to gather the respect they deserve. They lack the overbearing massiveness of a towering tree or the colorful brilliance of a showy wildflower. However, shrubs completely dominate the chaparral ecosystems in the West, and they create wonderful diversity in the understory of woodlands of oaks, pines, pinyons, and junipers. One of my favorites is Wright’s Silktassel, Garrya wrightii, found throughout Arizona from about 3000-8000 feet, the southern half of New Mexico, the western tip of Texas, and down to central Mexico. Let’s see what makes this shrub so likeable.

A naturalist (or anyone who cares about nature) is an observer, a witness to the full range of life in which we are simply one player among millions. There is joy in connecting deeply with the familiar, the predictable.

I want to call attention to one of these rather nondescript but nevertheless beautiful birds—the Lincoln’s Sparrow. Once you become familiar with them, they may become one of your favorites, as they have for me.

On the voyage of the Beagle, Darwin was given the nickname “Flycatcher” for his skills at collecting specimens. To us, the word “flycatcher” seems obvious—a bird that catches flies. But as I have often cautioned, names can be deceiving. If you lived in Europe, Asia, or Africa, “flycatcher” would mean a member of the Muscicapidae, a large family of true songbirds collectively known as “chats, robins, and Old World Flycatchers.”

One of the most distinctive trees of the Southwest is the Alligator Juniper, well-named for its platy, saurian-like bark. My natural history students had no trouble learning it by appearance, and, with the mnemonic clue, “Johnny Depp,” they quickly caught on to its scientific name, Juniperus deppeana. Of course, an organism is so much more than its name, and the Alligator Juniper is special in so many ways that it earns the limelight in this essay. As you will see, this amazing plant is one of my all-time favorites, very close to my heartwood.

Robins are the most widespread of all the American thrushes, breeding throughout nearly all of North America and wintering in most of the continental United States and Mexico.

Goldeneye! No, not the James Bond movie (though the original James Bond was an ornithologist). I mean the Common Goldeneye, a gorgeous duck very near to my heart (emotionally, not anatomically).

I’ve been mullein over just how to tell the story of a plant that brings out mixed feelings in people. Mulleins are not native to the United States, but the woolly one, at least, is visually familiar to many people who may not know its back story. Why don’t we take a closer look?

‘Tis the season to feature the Nuthatch Suite (no nutcrackers here, though plenty of nutcases). And what is sweeter than a sturdy little nuthatch, a bird that defies gravity on a tree trunk by often hitching its way downward, thus finding insects in the bark that those upright woodpeckers and creepers miss?

Happy December! It’s a perfect time to get outside and watch for one of our most common and human-tolerant raptors, the magnificent Red-tailed Hawk.