Clear Creek is running at a near-trickle in late June — weeks ahead of the seasonal low-flow period, and at flows that concentrate both heat and pollutants in a stream already federally listed as impaired. The creek sits in the grip of a hydrological pattern 160 years in the making, traced directly to upstream diversions that began during the Gold Rush and have persisted ever since.Current streamflow is 0.38 cubic feet per second, a stark reminder that the damage done to western waterways compounds across generations. Low flows warm the water and reduce its capacity to dilute agricultural runoff, mine seepage, and urban inputs — a cascade that regulatory agencies acknowledge through the federal impairment designation and the requirement for a total maximum daily load study. The stress on aquatic life is not accidental; it is the legacy of water extraction decisions made in the 1800s, still playing out in the 21st century.
Milkweed blooms and the bees they sustain
June 13, 2026
The air carries a sweet weight near Westminster's open spaces, where clusters of pink and orange flowers rise from the grassland. Showy milkweed stands tall with broad leaves and dome-shaped flower heads, each bloom a dusty rose color. Nearby, butterfly milkweed spreads lower to the ground, its flowers burning bright orange in the summer heat. Both plants have opened their complex flowers just as the Golden Northern Bumble Bee reaches peak activity in its breeding season.The Golden Northern Bumble Bee works these milkweed flowers with deliberate intensity. She lands heavily on a flower cluster, her golden-yellow body contrasting with the pink petals of showy milkweed. Each milkweed flower presents a challenge. The pollen sits trapped in small sacs that must be triggered to release their contents. The bee grips the flower and vibrates her flight muscles without flying, a behavior called buzz pollination. The vibration shakes loose the pollen packets, which attach to her legs and body as waxy yellow masses. She moves methodically from flower to flower, collecting both nectar and pollen while inadvertently transferring genetic material between plants.This relationship sustains both species through summer's demands. The Golden Northern Bumble Bee, threatened throughout its range, depends on diverse flower resources to feed her growing colony. Queen bees emerged from winter hibernation in spring and have spent weeks establishing underground nests. Now their worker daughters forage constantly to support developing larvae back in the colony. Milkweed provides high-quality protein from its pollen and concentrated sugars from its nectar. The timing aligns perfectly with the colony's peak growth period, when dozens of workers need fuel for constant foraging trips. For the milkweeds, these bees serve as essential pollinators. The plants' complex flower structure evolved specifically to ensure that visiting insects pick up and transfer pollen effectively. Without pollinators like bumble bees, milkweed populations cannot produce the seeds that will become next year's plants. Each successful pollination leads to the formation of the distinctive pointed pods that will split open in autumn, releasing seeds on silky white plumes.Other native bees and butterflies also visit these blooming milkweeds, but the Golden Northern Bumble Bee's size and strength make it particularly effective at working the flowers' intricate mechanisms. Two-tailed Swallowtails and Orange Sulphurs flutter between the orange butterfly milkweed blooms, their long tongues reaching deep for nectar. The invasive Western Honey Bee also forages here, though it often steals nectar by biting holes in flower bases rather than entering through the proper channels that ensure pollination. The native bees remain the more reliable partners in this ancient exchange between plant and pollinator. Walk quietly among these flowering patches and you can hear the steady hum of working bees, their flight muscles generating the vibrations that unlock each flower's hidden rewards.
Killdeer nesting on bare ground
May 29, 2026
The gravel along the Westminster trail crunches underfoot, each step announcing your presence to every creature within earshot. In late spring, this seemingly barren stretch between the canal and the open fields becomes a theater of deception. The killdeer have chosen this harsh landscape for their most vulnerable act: raising young on the open ground.A killdeer nest is barely a nest at all. Four speckled eggs rest in a shallow scrape, sometimes lined with a few pebbles or bits of dried grass, sometimes holding nothing but the eggs themselves against the earth. The birds select parking lots, gravel paths, baseball diamonds, and construction sites. They choose exposure over shelter, trusting in camouflage and performance over concealment. The eggs blend so perfectly with their surroundings that you could walk within arm's length and see nothing but stones.When a killdeer detects a threat near its nest, it launches into one of the most convincing performances in the bird world. The adult bird moves away from the nest site, dragging one wing as if broken, calling in distress, stumbling forward just close enough to hold your attention. The broken wing display pulls predators and people alike away from the hidden eggs. The bird stays just out of reach, always moving farther from the nest, maintaining the illusion of an easy meal until the threat has moved a safe distance away. Then the wing heals instantly. The killdeer takes flight, circles back, and settles near its eggs as if nothing happened. This deception works on foxes, dogs, children, and adults who have seen it dozens of times but still find themselves following the apparently injured bird.The killdeer's choice of nesting habitat reflects a calculated risk. Ground nests face constant danger from predators, weather, and human activity. But open ground offers advantages that dense cover cannot. The adult birds can spot approaching threats from a distance. They have room to perform their distraction displays. The eggs receive direct warmth from the sun, reducing the time adults must spend incubating. When the chicks hatch, they can run within hours, following their parents to feeding areas where insects gather in the short grass and muddy edges of the canal.During late spring in Westminster, the killdeer work the edges where water meets land. They probe the soft mud for invertebrates, their bills moving quickly and precisely. The chicks, covered in downy feathers that match the mottled ground, follow close behind their parents, learning to find food in the narrow zone between the flowing water and the dry earth. Their legs appear too long for their bodies, but those legs carry them quickly across uneven ground and through shallow water where aquatic insects emerge in increasing numbers as the season warms.
