February of 2015 in southeastern Pennsylvania has been frigid with several cold fronts because of the jet stream coming farther south than usual, dipping night temperatures to single digits or 0 degrees,. A few snow storms each dumped two to three inches of snow. This area looks like it is in the grips of winter by the end of February. But spring's arrival has much to do with the sun "returning" north. The sun's greater warmth now because of its rays reaching this part of Earth more directly than in December urges spring on. So in the midst of all that cold weather, several signs of the vernal season pushing to the fore are visible by late February. I've often said spring is born from the chilly womb of winter.
The first indication of spring's coming is the lengthening amount of sunlight each succeeding day since December 21, the winter solstice. By the end of February here, the sun sets around 6:00 pm, rather than at 4:40 pm in mid-December. And in February, the sun is "higher" in the sky and noticeably hotter and brighter than in December. And it rises and sets more to the north each succeeding day. The landscape in February looks and feels like spring in spite of the cold. And the increasing amount of daylight per day and the sun's positions in the sky are more reliable indicators of season to plants and animals than the fickle weather is. Therefore, many early spring activities happened in this area in spite of the cold. By the end of February, 2015, many plants and animals are indicating subtle signs of spring in southeastern Pennsylvania, as they do every year at some time during that month.
Now male mourning doves and northern cardinals are singing to proclaim nesting territories. And their songs will continue through spring and summer until the nesting season is over.
In February, mated pairs of Canada geese and mallard ducks fly about and explore ponds and waterways for sheltering sites where they can hatch goslings and ducklings respectively. In 2015, they were a couple of weeks late, but were looking for nesting places as they do each year.
During February every year, great horned owls, red-tailed hawks and bald eagles in this area set on one to three eggs in their large, open nurseries of sticks and grass. Both parents of each pair of each of these predatory species take turns incubating the eggs and sheltering the young from the cold and predators. While one parent incubates, the other is hunting prey for the whole family.
Sometime in February, large flocks of Canada geese, snow geese and tundra swans that want to migrate north to their breeding areas join gatherings of Canada geese that wintered here. All these waterfowl in their hordes rest on rivers, human-made impoundments and flooded quarries, but fly to harvested corn fields and winter rye fields to shovel up corn kernels still in the fields and pluck the green shoots of the rye. But, usually, by mid-March, they are on the next lap of their flight north and west to their nesting territories in Canada and Alaska.
A few kinds of mammals indicate the vernal season in February. Male wood chucks that slept through the winter are now abroad looking for mates and food, in that order. Male skunks are also looking for mates during this month. One can smell the spray of a skunk that got into trouble, and there is a sudden increase in dead skunks on roads because of the males' traveling to find mates.
Skunk cabbage hoods, each of which houses a fleshy ball with several tiny flowers on it, snow drops, winter aconites and pussy willows are some of the plants that bloom at some time during February, depending upon the amount of warmth during that month. This year, of course, they are all late. Snow drops emerged from the soil by the latter part of the month, but their blooms are only partly developed. I haven't seen any aconite flowers yet and the fuzzies on the pussy willows are just starting to swell, although by the end of February those furry catkins should be fully developed.
This is a favorite time of the year for me with all the promises of spring. Watch for the subtle signs of spring every year, starting the beginning of February. They are enjoyable and cause for celebration.
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Two Unusual Woodpeckers
Everyone knows woodpeckers drill into trees to get invertebrate animals that live in the wood. And that woodpeckers have special body parts that help them get their foods from under tree bark. They have stiff tail feathers and two toes on the backs of their feet to help prop them upright on the trees. They have sharp beaks and thick bone in their skulls that allows them to chip into the wood without injury to their brains or anything else. And they have long tongues that are anchored to their foreheads, wrap over their skulls under the skin, and fill their beaks. When woodpeckers chisel into insect tunnels, those long, sticky tongues snare the insects and pull them out so the woodpeckers can swallow them.
All woodpeckers have that equipment, which shows their relationship from one ancestor of them all, including two unusual woodpeckers- northern flickers and yellow-bellied sapsuckers. Those latter two species developed unique ways of getting food without competing with their relatives.
Northern flickers, at some time in their past, discovered they can get much food from ant hills in the ground. These woodpeckers peck into ant colonies and run their long, sticky tongues into the tunnels to catch the ants and their eggs, larvae and pupae. Flickers repeatedly run their tongues into various burrows until they are full of ants and need to fly to a tree to rest and digest.
And interestingly, though most woodpeckers have black and white plumage patterns, flicker feathering is mostly brown on top with darker streaking to blend into their surroundings of grass and soil while feeding. That brown feathering is a departure from the usual black ad white woodpecker plumages to fit into a new habitat that only the flickers use, therefore lessening rivalry for food with their relatives.
Yellow-bellied sapsuckers have the noted habit of punching rows of holes into tender bark on young trees. Of course, sugary sap leaks from those injuries in the bark and the sapsuckers come back later to lick that liquid, and any insects that were drawn to it. That sap supplements their regular diet of insects they take out of dead wood in trees.
A variety of other creatures also sip the sap from sapsucker wounds in trees. Some of those critters are mourning cloak butterflies and other early-flying, brush-footed butterflies, plus flies, small moths and other kinds of insects that smell the sugar in the sap and are drawn to it. And a small variety of little birds, such as kinglets, chickadees, hummingbirds and others also come to the sap to sip it.
But flickers and sapsuckers, still being woodpeckers, chip nurseries into trees to raise their young. Flickers nest throughout much of North America, while sapsuckers are more likely to breed in more northern forests. Here in the Mid-Atlantic States we see flickers in spring and summer, but the sapsuckers, for the most part, are here only in winter.
Flickers and sapsuckers demonstrate how certain species of a family of creatures will diverge from the norm, not by planning, but by blundering into a niche that serves them well and reduces competition with their relatives. Those pioneer species become better adapted to those niches until they are trapped in them and develop physical characteristics and habits that are different than those of their cousins.
Watch for woodpeckers and see how well adapted they are for their work. And see how flickers and sapsuckers diverged from some of the norms of their family.
All woodpeckers have that equipment, which shows their relationship from one ancestor of them all, including two unusual woodpeckers- northern flickers and yellow-bellied sapsuckers. Those latter two species developed unique ways of getting food without competing with their relatives.
Northern flickers, at some time in their past, discovered they can get much food from ant hills in the ground. These woodpeckers peck into ant colonies and run their long, sticky tongues into the tunnels to catch the ants and their eggs, larvae and pupae. Flickers repeatedly run their tongues into various burrows until they are full of ants and need to fly to a tree to rest and digest.
And interestingly, though most woodpeckers have black and white plumage patterns, flicker feathering is mostly brown on top with darker streaking to blend into their surroundings of grass and soil while feeding. That brown feathering is a departure from the usual black ad white woodpecker plumages to fit into a new habitat that only the flickers use, therefore lessening rivalry for food with their relatives.
Yellow-bellied sapsuckers have the noted habit of punching rows of holes into tender bark on young trees. Of course, sugary sap leaks from those injuries in the bark and the sapsuckers come back later to lick that liquid, and any insects that were drawn to it. That sap supplements their regular diet of insects they take out of dead wood in trees.
A variety of other creatures also sip the sap from sapsucker wounds in trees. Some of those critters are mourning cloak butterflies and other early-flying, brush-footed butterflies, plus flies, small moths and other kinds of insects that smell the sugar in the sap and are drawn to it. And a small variety of little birds, such as kinglets, chickadees, hummingbirds and others also come to the sap to sip it.
But flickers and sapsuckers, still being woodpeckers, chip nurseries into trees to raise their young. Flickers nest throughout much of North America, while sapsuckers are more likely to breed in more northern forests. Here in the Mid-Atlantic States we see flickers in spring and summer, but the sapsuckers, for the most part, are here only in winter.
Flickers and sapsuckers demonstrate how certain species of a family of creatures will diverge from the norm, not by planning, but by blundering into a niche that serves them well and reduces competition with their relatives. Those pioneer species become better adapted to those niches until they are trapped in them and develop physical characteristics and habits that are different than those of their cousins.
Watch for woodpeckers and see how well adapted they are for their work. And see how flickers and sapsuckers diverged from some of the norms of their family.
Maple Sugaring
Maple sugaring season in the Middle Atlantic States runs from about the third week in February to around the third week in March, depending on the weather. That is when warm temperatures in the afternoons expand the cells of the cambium layer just under the bark of sugar maple trees and cold air at night contracts those same cells. With several consecutive days and nights of fluctuating temperatures, the cells expand and contract every day, pumping the sap up the trunks, cell by cell, day after day, and out the limbs to every twig where that sap, which is 98% water and 2% sugar, lies in wait, ready to nourish the growth of flowers, leaves and twigs by the end of April and into early May.
Native Americans in eastern Canada and the northeastern part of the United States, which is the natural range of sugar maple trees, were the first people to make pure maple syrup from sugar maple sap. Having made maple syrup myself over many years, I often wondered how the Indians ever thought that maple sap, which is as clear as water when it comes out of the trees, could be made into edible syrup they could pour over snow and the corn cakes they made.
I like to think there was a group of Indians camped overnight, early in spring, in a place where there was no water for drinking or cooking. But those people knew if they cut into the bark of certain trees they could collect the watery sap to drink and cook in. As they cooked food in maple sap they sensed a wonderful odor as the liquid became darker. They may have dipped into that liquid, let it cool, tasted it, and discovered it was good. Later, they may have cooked maple sap by itself to experience what would happen and discovered, delightfully, pure maple syrup.
After the process of making syrup was realized, the Native Americans of northeastern North America could make syrup, their only sweetener, every spring when the sugar-laden sap is going up the trunks and is accessible to people. They used stone axes to cut long V's into the bark deep enough to let the sap flow out. They probably put a chunk of bark into the bottom of each V to channel the sap away from the tree and allow it to drip into a hollowed out log on the ground. Fires were built near those logs gathering sap and rocks were put into each fire. Hot rocks were taken out of the fires by the use of wooden paddles and put into the sap in each hollowed log. By rotating the rocks, day and night for days, a boil was reached and maintained, releasing the excess water into the air as steam. The result was dark, thicker-than-water syrup because the burnt sugar and some of the water stayed in the cooking logs.
European colonists didn't know syrup could be made from maple sap, though there are maple trees in Europe. Apparently, Europeans weren't as tied to nature as Indians were. And the Europeans had honey, so they had little reason to look for a sweetener. But upon their arrival in America, they learned syrup making from the natives.
John Burroughs, a farmer and famous naturalist in the nineteenth century in the Hudson Valley of New York State tapped sugar maple trees every spring on his farm. He wrote in his WRITINGS, II, Next week, or the week after, it may be time to begin plowing, and other sober work about the farm; but this week we will picnic among the maples, and our campfire shall be an incense to spring". Obviously, John Burroughs enjoyed maple sugaring on his farm.
Making pure maple syrup is a simple, but time consuming, process. Simply drill holes one-quarter of an inch in diameter about an inch deep, or a little more, into the bark of sugar maple trees to reach the cambium layer. One hole should be put into young trees that have a trunk diameter of at least one foot and three taps could be drilled into older, larger trees. Hammer in a wooden spile made from a hollow twig, or a bought, metal one, into each tap and attach a container to the spout to collect the dripping sap. Sap won't drip if the temperatures are constantly cold, or continually warm. But if temperatures are warm in the afternoons and cold at night, each tap will drip quite well in the warmth, but stop during the cold night. The containers need to be checked as often as necessary, sometimes a couple times a day when the sap is dripping well. Sap collectors may notice flies or small moths floating dead in the sap, but those insects aren't going to harm anything. The insects smelled the sugar in the sap and entered the containers to eat that sugar, only to drown in the sap.
Sap must be kept cold to retard the growth of bacteria that would spoil it. Even freezing doesn't hurt the sap because it is mostly water and thaws when it warms. If it is stored for several days until it can be boiled down to syrup, sap must be boiled every few days at least to kill bacteria that would eat the sugar in the sap, spoiling it. If the clear sap turns milky, it is spoiled and must be dumped.
Boiling the sap removes excess water from it, water that leaves the container in the form of steam. It takes about 36 to 40 gallons of sugar maple sap to make one gallon of syrup, which takes about 7 or 8 hours of cooking. Boiling should be done outside so as to not ruin the furniture and wall paper in a house. Any insects or bits of wood in the sap will float to the surface of the boiling sap with foam caused by the cooking sugar. The foam, insects and other impurities can be removed with a sieve. The boiling, of course, will kill any bacteria that was in the sap. Test the syrup occasionally to check its color, taste and consistency. When the syrup's color and consistency is appealing to the cook, it is done and ready to be consumed however one wishes.
Maple syrup can be boiled down more to make crystallized candy. Eleven pounds of syrup will make 7 pounds of candy. Again cook the syrup until it becomes foamy in the pan, then pour it into a plate and let it cool. As it cools, it crystallizes and can be broken into little chunks for eating. Like the syrup, it has its own flavor.
The sap of other kinds of maple trees, and birch trees, can also be used to make syrup because it is also sweet. But those trees have a little less than 1% of sugar in their sap, which would take about 80 gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup.
Maple sugaring is a rite of spring. It was first discovered by the First Americans in the northeastern forests of North America. And although maple syrup and sugar are not necessities of life, they sure make it more enjoyable through their history, lore and pleasurable taste.
Native Americans in eastern Canada and the northeastern part of the United States, which is the natural range of sugar maple trees, were the first people to make pure maple syrup from sugar maple sap. Having made maple syrup myself over many years, I often wondered how the Indians ever thought that maple sap, which is as clear as water when it comes out of the trees, could be made into edible syrup they could pour over snow and the corn cakes they made.
I like to think there was a group of Indians camped overnight, early in spring, in a place where there was no water for drinking or cooking. But those people knew if they cut into the bark of certain trees they could collect the watery sap to drink and cook in. As they cooked food in maple sap they sensed a wonderful odor as the liquid became darker. They may have dipped into that liquid, let it cool, tasted it, and discovered it was good. Later, they may have cooked maple sap by itself to experience what would happen and discovered, delightfully, pure maple syrup.
After the process of making syrup was realized, the Native Americans of northeastern North America could make syrup, their only sweetener, every spring when the sugar-laden sap is going up the trunks and is accessible to people. They used stone axes to cut long V's into the bark deep enough to let the sap flow out. They probably put a chunk of bark into the bottom of each V to channel the sap away from the tree and allow it to drip into a hollowed out log on the ground. Fires were built near those logs gathering sap and rocks were put into each fire. Hot rocks were taken out of the fires by the use of wooden paddles and put into the sap in each hollowed log. By rotating the rocks, day and night for days, a boil was reached and maintained, releasing the excess water into the air as steam. The result was dark, thicker-than-water syrup because the burnt sugar and some of the water stayed in the cooking logs.
European colonists didn't know syrup could be made from maple sap, though there are maple trees in Europe. Apparently, Europeans weren't as tied to nature as Indians were. And the Europeans had honey, so they had little reason to look for a sweetener. But upon their arrival in America, they learned syrup making from the natives.
John Burroughs, a farmer and famous naturalist in the nineteenth century in the Hudson Valley of New York State tapped sugar maple trees every spring on his farm. He wrote in his WRITINGS, II, Next week, or the week after, it may be time to begin plowing, and other sober work about the farm; but this week we will picnic among the maples, and our campfire shall be an incense to spring". Obviously, John Burroughs enjoyed maple sugaring on his farm.
Making pure maple syrup is a simple, but time consuming, process. Simply drill holes one-quarter of an inch in diameter about an inch deep, or a little more, into the bark of sugar maple trees to reach the cambium layer. One hole should be put into young trees that have a trunk diameter of at least one foot and three taps could be drilled into older, larger trees. Hammer in a wooden spile made from a hollow twig, or a bought, metal one, into each tap and attach a container to the spout to collect the dripping sap. Sap won't drip if the temperatures are constantly cold, or continually warm. But if temperatures are warm in the afternoons and cold at night, each tap will drip quite well in the warmth, but stop during the cold night. The containers need to be checked as often as necessary, sometimes a couple times a day when the sap is dripping well. Sap collectors may notice flies or small moths floating dead in the sap, but those insects aren't going to harm anything. The insects smelled the sugar in the sap and entered the containers to eat that sugar, only to drown in the sap.
Sap must be kept cold to retard the growth of bacteria that would spoil it. Even freezing doesn't hurt the sap because it is mostly water and thaws when it warms. If it is stored for several days until it can be boiled down to syrup, sap must be boiled every few days at least to kill bacteria that would eat the sugar in the sap, spoiling it. If the clear sap turns milky, it is spoiled and must be dumped.
Boiling the sap removes excess water from it, water that leaves the container in the form of steam. It takes about 36 to 40 gallons of sugar maple sap to make one gallon of syrup, which takes about 7 or 8 hours of cooking. Boiling should be done outside so as to not ruin the furniture and wall paper in a house. Any insects or bits of wood in the sap will float to the surface of the boiling sap with foam caused by the cooking sugar. The foam, insects and other impurities can be removed with a sieve. The boiling, of course, will kill any bacteria that was in the sap. Test the syrup occasionally to check its color, taste and consistency. When the syrup's color and consistency is appealing to the cook, it is done and ready to be consumed however one wishes.
Maple syrup can be boiled down more to make crystallized candy. Eleven pounds of syrup will make 7 pounds of candy. Again cook the syrup until it becomes foamy in the pan, then pour it into a plate and let it cool. As it cools, it crystallizes and can be broken into little chunks for eating. Like the syrup, it has its own flavor.
The sap of other kinds of maple trees, and birch trees, can also be used to make syrup because it is also sweet. But those trees have a little less than 1% of sugar in their sap, which would take about 80 gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup.
Maple sugaring is a rite of spring. It was first discovered by the First Americans in the northeastern forests of North America. And although maple syrup and sugar are not necessities of life, they sure make it more enjoyable through their history, lore and pleasurable taste.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Snow
A snowfall often starts gently, almost apologetically. But soon the snow falls heavier and heavier and the ground quickly becomes white. That snow cover changes the appearance of the whole landscape. Sometimes the flakes fall straight down slowly, but often they're blown sideways by wind. It's said no two snow flakes are alike. Nature is amazing in its diversity. But a few inches of snow is enough to be pretty. Any more than that is a real nuisance, a problem, even dangerous to many people.
Still, falling snow, particularly large, slowly-dropping flakes, is pretty to see, especially when seen before the dark background of trees. A snowfall doesn't happen every day, and so each one is something different and a beautiful happening in nature. And snow is perishable and fleeting, disappearing the next time the sun shines and the weather warms.
Snow, while it lasts, has its own beauties and beautifies the landscape like nothing else can. Snow on the ground highlights many natural objects that we didn't see before, such as young trees in the woods and white-tailed deer. And snow on the ground enhances the beauties of trees in woods and older suburbs, and the greens, grays and browns of all vegetation, wherever it is.
Snow, especially heavy, wet snow, also collects in trees, shrubbery and tall weeds and grasses, adding more beauty to the landscape. Fallen snow outlines the tops of limbs and twigs, creating innumerable and lovely studies in dark and white.
Moonlight on snow on the ground turns the night into a different world, like a silvery fairyland. The landscape is almost as bright as day, but without the colors. To see all that is to experience something unique. Trees and other objects stand out against the snow when it is illuminated by moonlight, which really is reflected sunlight, from the sun to the moon to Earth. And this is a good time to look for deer, cottontail rabbits and other nocturnal animals.
A snow cover protects grounding-hugging plants and invertebrates in the soil from air temperatures that are even colder than the snow. The snow also acts as a blanket that traps the slight warmth coming up from the ground.
Snow covers present certain benefits to vertebrate wildlife, too. For example, here in the mid-Atlantic States, field mice can move about freely under snow without being seen by predators. The mice chew tunnels through the grass under the snow cover to aid in their travels for food and mates. But when the snow melts, those tunnels are as exposed as foot paths and the mice have to slip under other cover to avoid predation.
The weight of snow on the needled boughs of coniferous trees pushes those limbs down closer together. The combination of the snow and packed needles creates wind breaks that shelter squirrels and a variety of birds in the trees from cold, winter wind.
Many animals, however, have a hard time getting food when snow is on the ground. Predatory hawks, owls, foxes and other species can't see mice under the snow, or hear them as easily. Seed-eating birds have difficulty getting seeds, unless that food is on vegetation still above the snow. And grazers of grass have a hard time getting that food under the snow.
Snow is pretty and enhances the beauties of the landscape. But it is a hazard to people and many kinds of wildlife. We have to take the good with the bad, as they say.
Still, falling snow, particularly large, slowly-dropping flakes, is pretty to see, especially when seen before the dark background of trees. A snowfall doesn't happen every day, and so each one is something different and a beautiful happening in nature. And snow is perishable and fleeting, disappearing the next time the sun shines and the weather warms.
Snow, while it lasts, has its own beauties and beautifies the landscape like nothing else can. Snow on the ground highlights many natural objects that we didn't see before, such as young trees in the woods and white-tailed deer. And snow on the ground enhances the beauties of trees in woods and older suburbs, and the greens, grays and browns of all vegetation, wherever it is.
Snow, especially heavy, wet snow, also collects in trees, shrubbery and tall weeds and grasses, adding more beauty to the landscape. Fallen snow outlines the tops of limbs and twigs, creating innumerable and lovely studies in dark and white.
Moonlight on snow on the ground turns the night into a different world, like a silvery fairyland. The landscape is almost as bright as day, but without the colors. To see all that is to experience something unique. Trees and other objects stand out against the snow when it is illuminated by moonlight, which really is reflected sunlight, from the sun to the moon to Earth. And this is a good time to look for deer, cottontail rabbits and other nocturnal animals.
A snow cover protects grounding-hugging plants and invertebrates in the soil from air temperatures that are even colder than the snow. The snow also acts as a blanket that traps the slight warmth coming up from the ground.
Snow covers present certain benefits to vertebrate wildlife, too. For example, here in the mid-Atlantic States, field mice can move about freely under snow without being seen by predators. The mice chew tunnels through the grass under the snow cover to aid in their travels for food and mates. But when the snow melts, those tunnels are as exposed as foot paths and the mice have to slip under other cover to avoid predation.
The weight of snow on the needled boughs of coniferous trees pushes those limbs down closer together. The combination of the snow and packed needles creates wind breaks that shelter squirrels and a variety of birds in the trees from cold, winter wind.
Many animals, however, have a hard time getting food when snow is on the ground. Predatory hawks, owls, foxes and other species can't see mice under the snow, or hear them as easily. Seed-eating birds have difficulty getting seeds, unless that food is on vegetation still above the snow. And grazers of grass have a hard time getting that food under the snow.
Snow is pretty and enhances the beauties of the landscape. But it is a hazard to people and many kinds of wildlife. We have to take the good with the bad, as they say.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Nature on a Business Trip
February 19, 2015 was a day of record cold with a wind chill below 0 in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, as throughout much of North America. Early that afternoon I drove on rural roads from New Holland to Lancaster City to take care of personal business, watching for nature as I meandered, sometimes a little out of my way just to see the sights. There was a couple of inches of dry snow on the ground that drifted across fields and country roads. The snow and the bitterly cold wind made the cultivated fields seem wilder. But the day was sunny and the bright sunlight, which felt hotter than in mid-winter because the sun is now "higher" in the sky, took some of the sting out of the weather. And, in spite of the frigid wind, several kinds of adaptable, wintering birds were out in their searches for food, birds I saw as I drove through local cropland.
A mated pair of adult red-tailed hawks perched together in a lone tree in a large field close to home were the first birds I saw that day. I stopped to view them better, but they took flight. I could see the beautiful orange-red of their tails through my 16 power binoculars as they soared and banked on high. That pair probably will nest somewhere in that vicinity this year.
Several scattered turkey vultures soaring on high were the second birds I saw on my trip to Lancaster. As they always do, the vultures constantly tipped from side to side on shallowly V-shaped wingspans to maintain their graceful sailing and balance in the strong wind. And, of course, the vultures were looking for dead animals on the ground that they could eat.
While seeing the vultures as I drove slowly along the rural roads, I saw another large bird that I thought could be a bald eagle. Stopping the car on the side of the road, I looked at the bird through my binoculars and saw that it was an adult bald eagle soaring slowly and majestically into the wind with huge wings held flat out from its body. Bald eagles have made a strong come-back in the Lower 48, including here in Pennsylvania. Today in Lancaster County, for example, one can expect to see a bald eagle most anywhere and at anytime during the day.
I saw several flocks of American crows in various corn fields along the way. They were facing the wind for greater comfort as they walked about in search of corn kernels to eat. Some of the crows took wing into the wind, leaving their relatives on one field to look for corn in another one. The crows flew singly, but in a long, tattered line low to the ground to avoid some of the wind. These crows are here for the winter, having hatched in the forests of Canada and states farther north.
Gatherings of handsome rock pigeons swirled over and landed on corn fields to eat waste corn kernels. These birds roost overnight in barns and under bridges, and perch on top of silos during the day, as they would on their original habitat of rock cliffs over the Mediterranean Sea for safety against predation. Pigeons also ingest tiny bits of gravel to grind the corn in their powerful stomachs.
I saw one group of a few mourning doves, which are pigeon relatives, in a corn field consuming some of the kernels. I almost missed seeing those brown doves because of their camouflage against the corn stubble and soil. Camouflage is needed in those open spaces with little cover because of the predatory hawks that roam the croplands in search of feathered-wrapped meals.
I saw several flocks of horned larks in some fields near the roadside. These birds are sparrow-sized and mostly brown which makes them hard to see until they fly up, including along the roads when vehicles go by. Horned larks are well-suited to living in barren cropland, where crops are harvested to the ground. In winter they feed on weed seeds and waste corn kernels and nestle among clods of soil or tufts of vegetation during the night. And in spring and summer they nest in the bare soil of corn and tobacco fields when those plants are young.
On that cold day of February 19, I saw a small group of lovely eastern bluebirds flying in front of my car as I drove along. They probably were looking for patches of berry-bearing shrubs along the rural roads, so they could feed on the berries. They probably spend the night in a knothole or abandoned woodpecker hole in a tree in a nearby hedgerow between fields.
And as I continued to drive along country roads, a large hawk flew in front of me and landed on an apple tree near the road. I stopped and noted that the hawk was an adult Cooper's, which is a woodland bird that has adapted to catching birds in agricultural areas and suburbs as well.
Continuing to drive along, I saw an American kestrel perching on a roadside wire and watching for mice on the roadside shoulder. A red-tailed hawk was perched in a lone tree off the road about 100 yards from the kestrel. It, too, was looking for mice, or any other creature it could safely handle.
A big flock of hundreds of Canada geese and a small group of mallard ducks were in a corn field close to the suburbs of Lancaster City. They left their resting spot on the Conestoga River to shovel up kernels of corn from the field. Though the Canadas are common here, they are always a thrill to experience in the air, on the ground or on water. And they are almost never silent; one can hear their clamorous bugling whenever they are spotted.
Later in the afternoon, on the way home, I saw more vultures, crows, pigeons, horned larks and another red-tailed hawk, but nothing new for that day, except a distant rough-legged hawk perched on a lone tree in a field. Like the kestrel and red-tails, it was searching for mice, or horned larks, to catch and eat. Rough-legs hatch on cliffs in the Arctic tundra, but come south to open habitats for the winter to find good mouse-hunting areas.
Even on a short drive in winter in an intensely cultivated agricultural area that is harvested to the ground in autumn one can see a variety of adaptable birds, mostly without trying. Nature makes any trip, anywhere, more enjoyable.
A mated pair of adult red-tailed hawks perched together in a lone tree in a large field close to home were the first birds I saw that day. I stopped to view them better, but they took flight. I could see the beautiful orange-red of their tails through my 16 power binoculars as they soared and banked on high. That pair probably will nest somewhere in that vicinity this year.
Several scattered turkey vultures soaring on high were the second birds I saw on my trip to Lancaster. As they always do, the vultures constantly tipped from side to side on shallowly V-shaped wingspans to maintain their graceful sailing and balance in the strong wind. And, of course, the vultures were looking for dead animals on the ground that they could eat.
While seeing the vultures as I drove slowly along the rural roads, I saw another large bird that I thought could be a bald eagle. Stopping the car on the side of the road, I looked at the bird through my binoculars and saw that it was an adult bald eagle soaring slowly and majestically into the wind with huge wings held flat out from its body. Bald eagles have made a strong come-back in the Lower 48, including here in Pennsylvania. Today in Lancaster County, for example, one can expect to see a bald eagle most anywhere and at anytime during the day.
I saw several flocks of American crows in various corn fields along the way. They were facing the wind for greater comfort as they walked about in search of corn kernels to eat. Some of the crows took wing into the wind, leaving their relatives on one field to look for corn in another one. The crows flew singly, but in a long, tattered line low to the ground to avoid some of the wind. These crows are here for the winter, having hatched in the forests of Canada and states farther north.
Gatherings of handsome rock pigeons swirled over and landed on corn fields to eat waste corn kernels. These birds roost overnight in barns and under bridges, and perch on top of silos during the day, as they would on their original habitat of rock cliffs over the Mediterranean Sea for safety against predation. Pigeons also ingest tiny bits of gravel to grind the corn in their powerful stomachs.
I saw one group of a few mourning doves, which are pigeon relatives, in a corn field consuming some of the kernels. I almost missed seeing those brown doves because of their camouflage against the corn stubble and soil. Camouflage is needed in those open spaces with little cover because of the predatory hawks that roam the croplands in search of feathered-wrapped meals.
I saw several flocks of horned larks in some fields near the roadside. These birds are sparrow-sized and mostly brown which makes them hard to see until they fly up, including along the roads when vehicles go by. Horned larks are well-suited to living in barren cropland, where crops are harvested to the ground. In winter they feed on weed seeds and waste corn kernels and nestle among clods of soil or tufts of vegetation during the night. And in spring and summer they nest in the bare soil of corn and tobacco fields when those plants are young.
On that cold day of February 19, I saw a small group of lovely eastern bluebirds flying in front of my car as I drove along. They probably were looking for patches of berry-bearing shrubs along the rural roads, so they could feed on the berries. They probably spend the night in a knothole or abandoned woodpecker hole in a tree in a nearby hedgerow between fields.
And as I continued to drive along country roads, a large hawk flew in front of me and landed on an apple tree near the road. I stopped and noted that the hawk was an adult Cooper's, which is a woodland bird that has adapted to catching birds in agricultural areas and suburbs as well.
Continuing to drive along, I saw an American kestrel perching on a roadside wire and watching for mice on the roadside shoulder. A red-tailed hawk was perched in a lone tree off the road about 100 yards from the kestrel. It, too, was looking for mice, or any other creature it could safely handle.
A big flock of hundreds of Canada geese and a small group of mallard ducks were in a corn field close to the suburbs of Lancaster City. They left their resting spot on the Conestoga River to shovel up kernels of corn from the field. Though the Canadas are common here, they are always a thrill to experience in the air, on the ground or on water. And they are almost never silent; one can hear their clamorous bugling whenever they are spotted.
Later in the afternoon, on the way home, I saw more vultures, crows, pigeons, horned larks and another red-tailed hawk, but nothing new for that day, except a distant rough-legged hawk perched on a lone tree in a field. Like the kestrel and red-tails, it was searching for mice, or horned larks, to catch and eat. Rough-legs hatch on cliffs in the Arctic tundra, but come south to open habitats for the winter to find good mouse-hunting areas.
Even on a short drive in winter in an intensely cultivated agricultural area that is harvested to the ground in autumn one can see a variety of adaptable birds, mostly without trying. Nature makes any trip, anywhere, more enjoyable.
Friday, February 20, 2015
Local March Catkins
Catkins are one of the least known beauties of nature in the Middle Atlantic States, as elsewhere in the world. They are male flowers that produce pollen, which is carried on the wind and fertilizes the female blooms of their respective species. Three common kinds of shrubs, including pussy willows, speckled alders and hazelnuts, plus large-toothed aspens, which is a type of tree, bear catkins in March in this area, as elsewhere in the eastern United States. Those attractive catkins add beauty to their habitats and that spring month.
Pussy willows are alien shrubs from Europe that are commonly planted here. Twigs of male bushes can be soaked in water until they produce roots and leaves from their stems. Then those twigs can be planted in sunny environments where they will flourish.
Male pussy willow shrubs are noted for their short, upright catkins that are gray, furry and sprout from buds on the ends of their twigs. Those catkins, which are popular among many people, open in this area toward the end of February and continue into March. Some people take twigs of opened fuzzies to be used as indoor décor.
Speckled alders are native shrubs that mostly grow on the banks of smaller waterways and ponds. They are so-named for the light-colored speckles on their smooth bark.
Speckled alders' inch-long, deep-purple catkins open in March and hang about an inch and a half long and decoratively from the ends of twigs. Female flowers on the same trees produce attractive, half-inch long, woody cones that protect the developing seeds. Like the scales of conifers, the overlapping scales of alder cones eventually open to release mature seeds on the wind, which scatters them. Some of those little seeds are eaten by mice and small, seed-eating birds.
Hazelnuts are native, ten-foot-tall shrubs in sunny woodland edges. The male catkins of this plant open in March and are a couple inches long, supple and undulate in the wind. Each female bloom is a group of several tiny, red stigmas protruding beautifully a quarter of an inch from one of many scaly, gray-brown buds along the woody stems of the same plants.
The resulting nuts on hazelnut bushes are acorn-like and brown inside two leafy, coarsely-toothed husks. In fall, those nuts are eaten by people, and white-tailed deer, black bears, a variety of rodents, ruffed grouse, wild turkeys and other critters. Deer and cottontail rabbits eat their twigs and leaves.
Large-toothed aspen trees are native to this area and pioneer burnt woods and abandoned fields. But, eventually, they are replaced by forest trees except along the sunny edges of the woods.
Male and female blossoms are on separate aspen trees during March and into April. Male flowers are three-inch-long, dangling catkins that appear to be hairy caterpillars hanging from the ends of the male trees' stems. Pollen from the male catkins blows in the wind and pollinates female catkins that are shorter than male ones. Seeds from female catkins blow on the wind and are scattered across the countryside.
This type of aspen has olive-green bark, which is often eaten by beavers, cottontails, mice and other woodland animals. Aspens have large "teeth" on the edges of their leaves and flat leaf petioles that make the leaves flutter in the wind.
Look for the lovely and interesting catkins of these plants during March. They add beauties to their respective environments at that time.
Pussy willows are alien shrubs from Europe that are commonly planted here. Twigs of male bushes can be soaked in water until they produce roots and leaves from their stems. Then those twigs can be planted in sunny environments where they will flourish.
Male pussy willow shrubs are noted for their short, upright catkins that are gray, furry and sprout from buds on the ends of their twigs. Those catkins, which are popular among many people, open in this area toward the end of February and continue into March. Some people take twigs of opened fuzzies to be used as indoor décor.
Speckled alders are native shrubs that mostly grow on the banks of smaller waterways and ponds. They are so-named for the light-colored speckles on their smooth bark.
Speckled alders' inch-long, deep-purple catkins open in March and hang about an inch and a half long and decoratively from the ends of twigs. Female flowers on the same trees produce attractive, half-inch long, woody cones that protect the developing seeds. Like the scales of conifers, the overlapping scales of alder cones eventually open to release mature seeds on the wind, which scatters them. Some of those little seeds are eaten by mice and small, seed-eating birds.
Hazelnuts are native, ten-foot-tall shrubs in sunny woodland edges. The male catkins of this plant open in March and are a couple inches long, supple and undulate in the wind. Each female bloom is a group of several tiny, red stigmas protruding beautifully a quarter of an inch from one of many scaly, gray-brown buds along the woody stems of the same plants.
The resulting nuts on hazelnut bushes are acorn-like and brown inside two leafy, coarsely-toothed husks. In fall, those nuts are eaten by people, and white-tailed deer, black bears, a variety of rodents, ruffed grouse, wild turkeys and other critters. Deer and cottontail rabbits eat their twigs and leaves.
Large-toothed aspen trees are native to this area and pioneer burnt woods and abandoned fields. But, eventually, they are replaced by forest trees except along the sunny edges of the woods.
Male and female blossoms are on separate aspen trees during March and into April. Male flowers are three-inch-long, dangling catkins that appear to be hairy caterpillars hanging from the ends of the male trees' stems. Pollen from the male catkins blows in the wind and pollinates female catkins that are shorter than male ones. Seeds from female catkins blow on the wind and are scattered across the countryside.
This type of aspen has olive-green bark, which is often eaten by beavers, cottontails, mice and other woodland animals. Aspens have large "teeth" on the edges of their leaves and flat leaf petioles that make the leaves flutter in the wind.
Look for the lovely and interesting catkins of these plants during March. They add beauties to their respective environments at that time.
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
New Holland's Wintering Robins
On the afternoon of February 5, 2015, I was driving around the New Holland, Pennsylvania area when I saw about 200 American robins in a field just off the road right outside of town. It was a warm, sunny afternoon and I supposed at the time that the robins were looking for invertebrates in the sun-warmed soil of that field. At any rate, I mentally noted that probably was the biggest single group of wintering American robins I ever saw.
A few days later, on cloudy, cold February 9, I noticed several American robins flying across the road from a park in New Holland. I looked in the direction the robins came from and saw several of them on the ground under three crab apple trees loaded with dull-red fruits that were about the size of grapes. I drove fairly close to those trees, stayed in my car so to not scare the birds away and spotted them with 16 power binoculars. There must have been about 200 robins there, most of them ingesting crab apples off the ground under the crab apple trees, but a few were eating fruit from the trees themselves. Those on the ground ran and stopped, ran and stopped, as robins do, between picking up and eating crab apple fruits. I figured these probably were the same robins I saw in the field nearby on the fifth of February. But because the ninth was a colder day, invertebrates would not be active and so the robins turned to eating fruit.
The robins and crab apple trees were in an open complex of a public park, a small golf course and the grounds of a public pool, all having short grass and varying sized, deciduous and coniferous trees. The crab apple trees, like all the trees in that open area, were planted for their beauties.
The robins had handsome plumages that varied a little. Males had more vivid colors than females. Every few minutes, many of the robins flew away as if in panic, but I couldn't see anything that was scaring them. But they soon came back to their food supply and continued feeding.
Interestingly, there were a few cedar waxwings among the robins in the crab apple trees. The waxwings, too, were consuming the fruits of those trees.
Some flocks of American robins stay north all winter. Those birds feed all winter on berries and roost overnight in the needled, sheltering embraces of coniferous trees.
On sunny February 11, I again saw an estimated 200 American robins on an extensive lawn on the edge of New Holland, near the crab apple trees and the field they were in on the fifth. Again I thought these must be the same birds I've been seeing all along around New Holland this winter. The robins ran and stopped, ran and stopped across the short grass, probably in quest of invertebrates in the soil under the short grass.
The day after a three inch snow on February 16, 2015, I again saw the robins back in the crab apple trees to eat some of their fruit. They resorted to fruit again because the ground and invertebrates were covered by snow.
The flock of about 200 American robins in New Holland seemed to be getting along quite well this winter. I had seen flocks of wintering robins in this my home town before, but not in such large numbers. It was exciting to see so many of them this winter.
A few days later, on cloudy, cold February 9, I noticed several American robins flying across the road from a park in New Holland. I looked in the direction the robins came from and saw several of them on the ground under three crab apple trees loaded with dull-red fruits that were about the size of grapes. I drove fairly close to those trees, stayed in my car so to not scare the birds away and spotted them with 16 power binoculars. There must have been about 200 robins there, most of them ingesting crab apples off the ground under the crab apple trees, but a few were eating fruit from the trees themselves. Those on the ground ran and stopped, ran and stopped, as robins do, between picking up and eating crab apple fruits. I figured these probably were the same robins I saw in the field nearby on the fifth of February. But because the ninth was a colder day, invertebrates would not be active and so the robins turned to eating fruit.
The robins and crab apple trees were in an open complex of a public park, a small golf course and the grounds of a public pool, all having short grass and varying sized, deciduous and coniferous trees. The crab apple trees, like all the trees in that open area, were planted for their beauties.
The robins had handsome plumages that varied a little. Males had more vivid colors than females. Every few minutes, many of the robins flew away as if in panic, but I couldn't see anything that was scaring them. But they soon came back to their food supply and continued feeding.
Interestingly, there were a few cedar waxwings among the robins in the crab apple trees. The waxwings, too, were consuming the fruits of those trees.
Some flocks of American robins stay north all winter. Those birds feed all winter on berries and roost overnight in the needled, sheltering embraces of coniferous trees.
On sunny February 11, I again saw an estimated 200 American robins on an extensive lawn on the edge of New Holland, near the crab apple trees and the field they were in on the fifth. Again I thought these must be the same birds I've been seeing all along around New Holland this winter. The robins ran and stopped, ran and stopped across the short grass, probably in quest of invertebrates in the soil under the short grass.
The day after a three inch snow on February 16, 2015, I again saw the robins back in the crab apple trees to eat some of their fruit. They resorted to fruit again because the ground and invertebrates were covered by snow.
The flock of about 200 American robins in New Holland seemed to be getting along quite well this winter. I had seen flocks of wintering robins in this my home town before, but not in such large numbers. It was exciting to see so many of them this winter.
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
A Day of Flocks
One late morning in mid-March a couple of years ago as I drove through farmland around my home in New Holland, Pennsylvania to see what was happening in nature, I saw flocks of different kinds of migrating birds. Though regularly spotted migrants in this area in spring, they were still exciting to see, especially because there were so many different kinds of birds in one day. But that's what happens here at that time of year.
I stopped briefly at an abandoned quarry filled with water where twenty elegant tundra swans and 32 American wigeon ducks rested on the water. Both these species of waterfowl eat waste corn kernels and the green shoots of winter rye in nearby fields, creating inspiring spectacles in flight between the water and fields. But soon they will migrate farther north and west to their breeding territories.
Moving on, I came upon a large, mixed congregation of blackbirds in a harvested cornfield. Purple grackles, red-winged blackbirds, brown-headed cowbirds and starlings ate waste corn, seeds, invertebrates and everything else they deem edible. That gathering of blackbirds moved around a lot, like a dark river, and was soon gone from view.
Every early-spring, many thousands, hordes, of migrant blackbirds, in the mixed flocks mentioned above, pour like a flood into Lancaster County. Though only four species are in each mixed group of blackbirds, it looks like there are six kinds because male red-winged blackbirds are black with red shoulder patches, but female red-wings are brown, streaked with black. Those scarlet epaulets on male red-wings in flight flash like hot coals in a black furnace. Male cowbirds have black body plumage, but that of their mates is dull-gray. Both genders of grackles have a purple sheen on their black feathers and yellow irises.
But soon those great gatherings of blackbirds will break up into individual pairs focused on reproduction in different nesting habitats in the local area. Red-wings will hatch young in cattail marshes and hay fields, while grackles will rear offspring in groves of coniferous trees on lawns.
I also came upon a few flocks of American robins on lawns and fields in the farmland around New Holland. As is their way, those robins ran and stopped, an and stopped as they looked and listened for invertebrates at the grass roots level. Occasionally, I would see a robin wrestling with an earthworm.
I also saw a gathering of hundreds of ring-billed gulls in a plowed field where they were searching for earthworms and other invertebrates to eat. Those gulls were a bit of the seacoast come inland to bare ground that must remind them of the beaches and mud flats they are adapted to. These gulls are adaptable to the point of making a living, not only in those seacoast habitats, but in bare, winter croplands as well.
Back in New Holland, I saw several skeins of snow geese moving swiftly across the sky like waves sliding up a beach. As always, the snows honked loudly and excitedly, which, in turn, stirs the emotions of outdoor people. Those snows, at that moment, were either continuing their migration north, or going to or from nearby feeding fields. But like the swans, wigeons and gulls, these snow geese will soon migrate out of this area to their nesting grounds. The snows, like the swans, will rear young on the Arctic tundra of Canada and Alaska.
Anyone can see migrating birds anywhere in the world. One has only to get out at the right times in spring and autumn to experience migration spectacles.
I stopped briefly at an abandoned quarry filled with water where twenty elegant tundra swans and 32 American wigeon ducks rested on the water. Both these species of waterfowl eat waste corn kernels and the green shoots of winter rye in nearby fields, creating inspiring spectacles in flight between the water and fields. But soon they will migrate farther north and west to their breeding territories.
Moving on, I came upon a large, mixed congregation of blackbirds in a harvested cornfield. Purple grackles, red-winged blackbirds, brown-headed cowbirds and starlings ate waste corn, seeds, invertebrates and everything else they deem edible. That gathering of blackbirds moved around a lot, like a dark river, and was soon gone from view.
Every early-spring, many thousands, hordes, of migrant blackbirds, in the mixed flocks mentioned above, pour like a flood into Lancaster County. Though only four species are in each mixed group of blackbirds, it looks like there are six kinds because male red-winged blackbirds are black with red shoulder patches, but female red-wings are brown, streaked with black. Those scarlet epaulets on male red-wings in flight flash like hot coals in a black furnace. Male cowbirds have black body plumage, but that of their mates is dull-gray. Both genders of grackles have a purple sheen on their black feathers and yellow irises.
But soon those great gatherings of blackbirds will break up into individual pairs focused on reproduction in different nesting habitats in the local area. Red-wings will hatch young in cattail marshes and hay fields, while grackles will rear offspring in groves of coniferous trees on lawns.
I also came upon a few flocks of American robins on lawns and fields in the farmland around New Holland. As is their way, those robins ran and stopped, an and stopped as they looked and listened for invertebrates at the grass roots level. Occasionally, I would see a robin wrestling with an earthworm.
I also saw a gathering of hundreds of ring-billed gulls in a plowed field where they were searching for earthworms and other invertebrates to eat. Those gulls were a bit of the seacoast come inland to bare ground that must remind them of the beaches and mud flats they are adapted to. These gulls are adaptable to the point of making a living, not only in those seacoast habitats, but in bare, winter croplands as well.
Back in New Holland, I saw several skeins of snow geese moving swiftly across the sky like waves sliding up a beach. As always, the snows honked loudly and excitedly, which, in turn, stirs the emotions of outdoor people. Those snows, at that moment, were either continuing their migration north, or going to or from nearby feeding fields. But like the swans, wigeons and gulls, these snow geese will soon migrate out of this area to their nesting grounds. The snows, like the swans, will rear young on the Arctic tundra of Canada and Alaska.
Anyone can see migrating birds anywhere in the world. One has only to get out at the right times in spring and autumn to experience migration spectacles.
Monday, February 16, 2015
Rabbits and Squirrels on our Lawn
We have at least three cottontail rabbits and five gray squirrels on our lawn in New Holland, Pennsylvania for good reasons. Both these adaptable species are here the year around because of ample food and shelter.
Cottontails are common in overgrown fields and the thickets of hedgerows between fields, woodland edges and suburban areas. Gray squirrels are abundant in deciduous woods, and older parks and suburbs with their many large trees. These species are game animals during legal hunting seasons, but they are also interesting to watch wherever they are, including in out yard.
These small mammals blend into their respective backgrounds which makes them tough to see to be safer from predation. Cottontails are brown, which camouflages them among grasses and the soil. But gray squirrels are gray, which camouflages them on the bark of the deciduous tree trunks and limbs they climb on.
The rabbits eat grass and other green vegetation on the ground. The squirrels consume nuts, seeds, berries and tree buds. Obviously, there is little competition between these species for food, which allows them to live in harmony wherever their niches overlap, such as on our lawn, as elsewhere.
Cottontails find shelter on the ground, including in abandoned wood chuck holes, thick patches of tall weeds and grasses, brush piles and so on. In our yard, they live by day under our deck and tool shed, but are active from dusk through each night the year around.
The squirrels, however, live in tree hollows high above the ground, or in bulky nests of dead leaves they make themselves among several twigs, if they can't find cavities that aren't being used by another animal. There is no competition between cottontails and squirrels for homes.
Both the rabbits and squirrels come to bird feeders on our lawn. Like birds, these mammals take advantage of easy food sources, the cottontails on the ground and the squirrels on the feeders. Gray squirrels use their intelligence to get on many bird feeders that people think are squirrel proof.
In spite of the camouflaged fur on both these adaptable, common mammals and their keen senses of smell, sight and sound, they need to be alert for predators at all times, including on our lawn. Cooper's hawks, red-tailed hawks and house cats roam our yard by day, and are big and strong enough to kill cottontails and gray squirrels. And great horned owls and house cats are around at dusk, dawn and through the night. The owls and squirrels overlap each other at dawn and dusk.
Though cottontails and gray squirrels are adaptable and commonplace, they are still interesting little animals. They each demonstrate camouflage and play a role in a food chain of who eats whom. And they take advantage of whatever food and shelter is available in their respective niches.
Cottontails are common in overgrown fields and the thickets of hedgerows between fields, woodland edges and suburban areas. Gray squirrels are abundant in deciduous woods, and older parks and suburbs with their many large trees. These species are game animals during legal hunting seasons, but they are also interesting to watch wherever they are, including in out yard.
These small mammals blend into their respective backgrounds which makes them tough to see to be safer from predation. Cottontails are brown, which camouflages them among grasses and the soil. But gray squirrels are gray, which camouflages them on the bark of the deciduous tree trunks and limbs they climb on.
The rabbits eat grass and other green vegetation on the ground. The squirrels consume nuts, seeds, berries and tree buds. Obviously, there is little competition between these species for food, which allows them to live in harmony wherever their niches overlap, such as on our lawn, as elsewhere.
Cottontails find shelter on the ground, including in abandoned wood chuck holes, thick patches of tall weeds and grasses, brush piles and so on. In our yard, they live by day under our deck and tool shed, but are active from dusk through each night the year around.
The squirrels, however, live in tree hollows high above the ground, or in bulky nests of dead leaves they make themselves among several twigs, if they can't find cavities that aren't being used by another animal. There is no competition between cottontails and squirrels for homes.
Both the rabbits and squirrels come to bird feeders on our lawn. Like birds, these mammals take advantage of easy food sources, the cottontails on the ground and the squirrels on the feeders. Gray squirrels use their intelligence to get on many bird feeders that people think are squirrel proof.
In spite of the camouflaged fur on both these adaptable, common mammals and their keen senses of smell, sight and sound, they need to be alert for predators at all times, including on our lawn. Cooper's hawks, red-tailed hawks and house cats roam our yard by day, and are big and strong enough to kill cottontails and gray squirrels. And great horned owls and house cats are around at dusk, dawn and through the night. The owls and squirrels overlap each other at dawn and dusk.
Though cottontails and gray squirrels are adaptable and commonplace, they are still interesting little animals. They each demonstrate camouflage and play a role in a food chain of who eats whom. And they take advantage of whatever food and shelter is available in their respective niches.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Beauties of Winter Trees
Trees here in the Middle Atlantic States, as elsewhere, are attractive the year around, including in winter. During that harshest of seasons, coniferous and deciduous trees add much beauty to the landscape, including having majestic, silhouetted shapes during sunrises and sunsets.
Many coniferous species, particularly spruces and firs, have stately, pyramidal shapes that are attractive, one of the reasons why these conifers are commonly planted on lawns. And almost all conifers bear handsome beige, scaled cones of various sizes and shapes, depending on the species. Norway spruces and white pines have long cones, while those on eastern hemlocks and red spruces are shorter. Squirrels and a variety of small birds eat the seeds from those cones after the scales on them open.
The bark on several kinds of deciduous trees here is attractive, and most easily seen in winter. American beeches have smooth, gray bark, while that of shagbark hickories is rough and has long strips that curl out at both ends, looking like they will peel off.
Sycamores and river birches grow on floodplains along creeks and rivers. Sycamores have mottled light and dark bark that stands out among the gray bark of other riparian trees on floodplains. The bark of river birch is pale-orange and peels off in many thin, curled strips. Having decorative bark, river birch is commonly planted on lawns.
American beeches, and pin, white and red oaks, have decorative dead leaves still on their twigs through winter. Sleet rattles through those dried leaves on its way to the ground. Dead foliage on beeches is thin, curled and pale-beige. Oaks' dried leaves are thicker, flat and brown. One can identify these trees partly because of the foliage still attached to their twigs through winter.
Some tree species have beauties in the seed pods and seed balls they retain on their twigs through winter. Ash-leafed maples' paired, beige, winged seeds hanging in clusters on twigs are decorative through winter. So are the stiff, upright seeds of some tulip poplars. Like that tree's flowers, those interesting rings of pointed seeds create the shape of tulips.
Sycamore and sweet gum trees have attractive seed balls on them through much of winter. Those on sycamores have long stems, making their beige-colored balls look like dangling ear rings on the trees. Sweet gum balls are dark-brown and riddled with bristles, and orifices where tiny, dark seeds tumble to the ground. A variety of small birds, including two kinds of chickadees and American goldfinches, eat sweet gum seeds from the balls and off the ground.
Several kinds of trees have colorful berries and fruits, which are attractive clinging to them through winter. American hollies, hawthorns and the coniferous yews have red berries that are edible to mice, squirrels and berry-eating birds, including northern mockingbirds, cedar waxwings and American robins.
Crab apples of several varieties have red or yellow fruits that are attractive to us. And those fruits are consumed by the mammals and birds mentioned above, plus, white-tailed deer, raccoons, wild turkeys and other mammals and birds.
Red junipers are a conifer that produces pale-blue, berry-like cones that a variety of birds and rodents ingest. But, of course, many of these cones on a tree are decorative.
Many bigger deciduous trees are riddled with cavities where wind ripped limbs off them. Those hollows are homes and nurseries to squirrels, raccoons, barred owls, certain kinds of small, forest birds such as titmice and nuthatches, and other species of wildlife.
Many kinds of trees are pretty to see through the year, including in winter. And they feed and shelter a variety of interesting birds and mammals as well. Get out in winter to see tree beauties, some of which probably are right in your neighborhood.
Many coniferous species, particularly spruces and firs, have stately, pyramidal shapes that are attractive, one of the reasons why these conifers are commonly planted on lawns. And almost all conifers bear handsome beige, scaled cones of various sizes and shapes, depending on the species. Norway spruces and white pines have long cones, while those on eastern hemlocks and red spruces are shorter. Squirrels and a variety of small birds eat the seeds from those cones after the scales on them open.
The bark on several kinds of deciduous trees here is attractive, and most easily seen in winter. American beeches have smooth, gray bark, while that of shagbark hickories is rough and has long strips that curl out at both ends, looking like they will peel off.
Sycamores and river birches grow on floodplains along creeks and rivers. Sycamores have mottled light and dark bark that stands out among the gray bark of other riparian trees on floodplains. The bark of river birch is pale-orange and peels off in many thin, curled strips. Having decorative bark, river birch is commonly planted on lawns.
American beeches, and pin, white and red oaks, have decorative dead leaves still on their twigs through winter. Sleet rattles through those dried leaves on its way to the ground. Dead foliage on beeches is thin, curled and pale-beige. Oaks' dried leaves are thicker, flat and brown. One can identify these trees partly because of the foliage still attached to their twigs through winter.
Some tree species have beauties in the seed pods and seed balls they retain on their twigs through winter. Ash-leafed maples' paired, beige, winged seeds hanging in clusters on twigs are decorative through winter. So are the stiff, upright seeds of some tulip poplars. Like that tree's flowers, those interesting rings of pointed seeds create the shape of tulips.
Sycamore and sweet gum trees have attractive seed balls on them through much of winter. Those on sycamores have long stems, making their beige-colored balls look like dangling ear rings on the trees. Sweet gum balls are dark-brown and riddled with bristles, and orifices where tiny, dark seeds tumble to the ground. A variety of small birds, including two kinds of chickadees and American goldfinches, eat sweet gum seeds from the balls and off the ground.
Several kinds of trees have colorful berries and fruits, which are attractive clinging to them through winter. American hollies, hawthorns and the coniferous yews have red berries that are edible to mice, squirrels and berry-eating birds, including northern mockingbirds, cedar waxwings and American robins.
Crab apples of several varieties have red or yellow fruits that are attractive to us. And those fruits are consumed by the mammals and birds mentioned above, plus, white-tailed deer, raccoons, wild turkeys and other mammals and birds.
Red junipers are a conifer that produces pale-blue, berry-like cones that a variety of birds and rodents ingest. But, of course, many of these cones on a tree are decorative.
Many bigger deciduous trees are riddled with cavities where wind ripped limbs off them. Those hollows are homes and nurseries to squirrels, raccoons, barred owls, certain kinds of small, forest birds such as titmice and nuthatches, and other species of wildlife.
Many kinds of trees are pretty to see through the year, including in winter. And they feed and shelter a variety of interesting birds and mammals as well. Get out in winter to see tree beauties, some of which probably are right in your neighborhood.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
A Few Winter Field Scavengers
I was driving along Route 23 through the Twin Valleys of eastern Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, on a cold, windy day, when I noticed several turkey vultures and many American crows in a harvested corn field planted to winter rye to enrich the soil and keep it from eroding. I pulled into a farmer's lane to get off the highway to view those birds. And as soon as I did I noticed a great cloud of ring-billed gulls lift off that same field, but farther back. The gulls swirled over several large, adjoining fields several times then dropped to a field like a blizzard, making that part of the big, open habitat appear white. The vultures, crows and gulls are adaptable, scavenging birds that are successful in fields and landfills.
The vultures and crows were in that field because someone spread manure on it that, apparently, had dead chickens in it. The blades of the spreader that chop up the manure and fling into the fields also did that to the dead chickens. The vultures and crows saw those chicken parts, including wings, and dropped to the field to eat the meat on them.
The turkey vultures dominated those chicken remains, but the crows attacked the vultures with feet and beaks. Those attacks didn't hurt the vultures, but some of them yielded to the crows. But other vultures fought back in seeming anger, and won.
While the vultures and crows interacted with each other over food, the ring-bills did not associate with the vultures or crows. They stayed to themselves, feeding on whatever invertebrates, seeds and grains they could find.
However, the gulls were restless, taking off into the air in a great, tight ball of themselves. I looked in the sky for a bald eagle, because those eagles also scavenge dead animals and may have been in the vicinity, frightening the gulls into flight. I didn't see an eagle, but I did spot a peregrine falcon chasing and diving on a lone gull. Both birds went over a hill, the falcon right behind the gull, and out of sight. I never did see them again to know the outcome of that chase. I presumed the gulls were in a close gathering in the air to protect themselves from the peregrine. All the gulls moved on after that scare, and many of the vultures and crows left the area as well.
A couple of handsome red-tailed hawks stayed on the field where they, too, were scavenging chicken meat. They apparently didn't fear the falcon and I saw the red-tails after many of the other birds left the area.
Interestingly, several black vultures soared over those same fields, but did not land on them. I read that black vultures are not interested in small bits of meat, though turkey vultures are. Therefore, the black vultures sailed on across the sky to look for carrion elsewhere. Sometimes,it doesn't pay to be particular.
Those fields were interesting with wintering, scavenging turkey vultures, American crows, ring-billed gulls and red-tailed hawks that all take advantage of some of our practices, in this case, throwing dead chickens in fields with manure. It's the plants and animals that have adapted to what we people do that will survive into the future.
The vultures and crows were in that field because someone spread manure on it that, apparently, had dead chickens in it. The blades of the spreader that chop up the manure and fling into the fields also did that to the dead chickens. The vultures and crows saw those chicken parts, including wings, and dropped to the field to eat the meat on them.
The turkey vultures dominated those chicken remains, but the crows attacked the vultures with feet and beaks. Those attacks didn't hurt the vultures, but some of them yielded to the crows. But other vultures fought back in seeming anger, and won.
While the vultures and crows interacted with each other over food, the ring-bills did not associate with the vultures or crows. They stayed to themselves, feeding on whatever invertebrates, seeds and grains they could find.
However, the gulls were restless, taking off into the air in a great, tight ball of themselves. I looked in the sky for a bald eagle, because those eagles also scavenge dead animals and may have been in the vicinity, frightening the gulls into flight. I didn't see an eagle, but I did spot a peregrine falcon chasing and diving on a lone gull. Both birds went over a hill, the falcon right behind the gull, and out of sight. I never did see them again to know the outcome of that chase. I presumed the gulls were in a close gathering in the air to protect themselves from the peregrine. All the gulls moved on after that scare, and many of the vultures and crows left the area as well.
A couple of handsome red-tailed hawks stayed on the field where they, too, were scavenging chicken meat. They apparently didn't fear the falcon and I saw the red-tails after many of the other birds left the area.
Interestingly, several black vultures soared over those same fields, but did not land on them. I read that black vultures are not interested in small bits of meat, though turkey vultures are. Therefore, the black vultures sailed on across the sky to look for carrion elsewhere. Sometimes,it doesn't pay to be particular.
Those fields were interesting with wintering, scavenging turkey vultures, American crows, ring-billed gulls and red-tailed hawks that all take advantage of some of our practices, in this case, throwing dead chickens in fields with manure. It's the plants and animals that have adapted to what we people do that will survive into the future.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Nature on a Ride Home
I was on business at Park City Mall outside Lancaster City in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania until about 5:10 PM on February 10, 2015. I started driving home around 5:15 in full daylight because the daylight per day is getting longer each succeeding day. The sky was cloudy, but pretty with a few ribbons of blue, yellow and orange. I also saw that the deciduous trees and coniferous trees, the yellow and green grass and patches of snow on the ground were lovely in the late afternoon light. The snow beautifully highlighted the vegetation's colors.
As I drove away from Park City, I saw airborne streams of wintering American crows approaching that shopping mall and many hundreds more perched on bare, deciduous trees on the edges of the mall, in preparation to roost there for the night. They have been doing that every evening all winter.
A few minutes later, as I was driving home on Route 23 through the village of Eden, I saw a loose river of thousands of crows going west toward their nightly roost near Park City. Those crows were quite a wild spectacle pouring low over tall deciduous and coniferous trees.
A minute later I saw a flock of wintering American robins flying over Route 23 in Eden on their way to their roost for the night in spruce trees somewhere in town. The needled boughs of those conifers protected the robins from cold winds and predators through the winter.
Meanwhile, I spotted several mourning doves perched on roadside wires. Most of them were in pairs and ready for the breeding season this spring and summer.
As I was leaving Eden, a small flock of stately Canada geese were circling where I knew the Conestoga River to be. Those geese were checking the river and its environs for danger before landing on the water.
A few minutes later, I saw another group of Canada geese flying south low over the town of Leola that straddles Route 23. Those geese probably were winging out to a harvested cornfield to eat loose kernels of corn.
And while driving through Leola, I noticed two different, small gatherings of starlings swirling and diving in unison, and without collision, low over the town in preparation for bedding down for the night. Eventually, both those starling groups will zip into the needled, sheltering boughs of coniferous trees where they will be protected from cold wind and predators.
As I continued to drive east on Route 23 to my home in New Holland, Pennsylvania, I noticed that the landscape and trees were getting darker, as the sky was. But there was still beauty in the sky, countryside and vegetation.
The flocks of birds I saw while driving along were silhouetted against the darkening sky. But I identified them by their sizes, shapes and flight patterns as I drove along.
I finally rolled into New Holland and parked in front of my house. And as I got out of my car at about 5:45, I heard the honking of many snow geese overhead. Looking up, I saw thousands of noisy snow geese in wave after wave sliding quickly across the sky and powering low right over my house and neighborhood. The timing to see and hear them could not have been better. When snows come into this area in such numbers, spring is right around the corner, as we say.
Not every drive home, no matter the season, is as eventful as this one was. The reader can have similar experiences by simply watching for beauties in nature at all times, whenever that can be safely done.
As I drove away from Park City, I saw airborne streams of wintering American crows approaching that shopping mall and many hundreds more perched on bare, deciduous trees on the edges of the mall, in preparation to roost there for the night. They have been doing that every evening all winter.
A few minutes later, as I was driving home on Route 23 through the village of Eden, I saw a loose river of thousands of crows going west toward their nightly roost near Park City. Those crows were quite a wild spectacle pouring low over tall deciduous and coniferous trees.
A minute later I saw a flock of wintering American robins flying over Route 23 in Eden on their way to their roost for the night in spruce trees somewhere in town. The needled boughs of those conifers protected the robins from cold winds and predators through the winter.
Meanwhile, I spotted several mourning doves perched on roadside wires. Most of them were in pairs and ready for the breeding season this spring and summer.
As I was leaving Eden, a small flock of stately Canada geese were circling where I knew the Conestoga River to be. Those geese were checking the river and its environs for danger before landing on the water.
A few minutes later, I saw another group of Canada geese flying south low over the town of Leola that straddles Route 23. Those geese probably were winging out to a harvested cornfield to eat loose kernels of corn.
And while driving through Leola, I noticed two different, small gatherings of starlings swirling and diving in unison, and without collision, low over the town in preparation for bedding down for the night. Eventually, both those starling groups will zip into the needled, sheltering boughs of coniferous trees where they will be protected from cold wind and predators.
As I continued to drive east on Route 23 to my home in New Holland, Pennsylvania, I noticed that the landscape and trees were getting darker, as the sky was. But there was still beauty in the sky, countryside and vegetation.
The flocks of birds I saw while driving along were silhouetted against the darkening sky. But I identified them by their sizes, shapes and flight patterns as I drove along.
I finally rolled into New Holland and parked in front of my house. And as I got out of my car at about 5:45, I heard the honking of many snow geese overhead. Looking up, I saw thousands of noisy snow geese in wave after wave sliding quickly across the sky and powering low right over my house and neighborhood. The timing to see and hear them could not have been better. When snows come into this area in such numbers, spring is right around the corner, as we say.
Not every drive home, no matter the season, is as eventful as this one was. The reader can have similar experiences by simply watching for beauties in nature at all times, whenever that can be safely done.
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Wintering Coastal Sandpipers
Many of us see sandpipers along the Atlantic Coast in spring and late summer, which are their times of migrations north and south respectively. But some of us don't know that while most sandpiper species continue father south for the winter, at least a few kinds, including sanderlings, dunlin and purple sandpipers, winter along the Atlantic Coast in the Middle Atlantic States, including in New Jersey, Delaware and Maryland. And each type has enough numbers in winter here to be noticeable to even casual observers along the ocean, if those people know where to look.
Sanderlings are the kind of sandpiper one sees in little groups running up and down sandy beaches along the Atlantic Ocean itself. When waves slide up the beaches, gatherings of sanderlings run up the beaches ahead of the incoming water. But when each wave rolls down the beach to the ocean again because of gravity, the sanderlings quickly follow it to pick up and consume any tiny invertebrates that were stranded on the sand. Sanderlings are entertaining to watch. And this is the only sandpiper species that behaves in that way, on a sandy beach habitat in winter.
Sanderlings have pale-gray, winter plumages that allow them to blend into the color of the sand and be hard to see when they are still, which protects them from predation. And when they run up and down the beaches, their black legs move rapidly, almost as if they were on wind-up toys.
Dunlin flocks by the hundreds, or in the thousands, feed on invertebrates in the mud of mud flats that are exposed and unfrozen because of receding water when the tide is out. Dunlin are gray-brown on top and lighter underneath for camouflage on the mud. They are most likely to winter in salt marshes back from the ocean and beaches. There they are protected from cold, winter wind by the tall grass of salt marshes as they ingest invertebrates.
Purple sandpipers have dark feathering which camouflages them on the boulders of rugged seacoasts and human-made rock jetties. Jetties jut into the ocean at right angles to the beaches to protect those sandy beaches, where sanderlings roam, from wave erosion. And purple sandpipers found those jetties to be good substitutes to the rocky shorelines they traditionally winter on.
Purple sandpipers walk about on the boulders of jetties in their search for invertebrates to ingest. But these sandpipers are often overlooked until they move along the rocks or fly from boulder to boulder to new feeding spots because of their camouflaging plumages.
Notice how each kind of wintering sandpiper is in a particular niche- beaches, mud flats or boulders. By spreading into different habitats, these related birds reduce competition for food among themselves through winter. And notice, too, how each species takes on the color of its environment.
When along the Mid-Atlantic seacoast in winter, it might be interesting, and fun, to look for these kinds of sandpipers, and other species of that family, in the coastal habitats mentioned here. These sandpipers, gulls and other kinds of water birds certainly liven the seacoast in winter.
Sanderlings are the kind of sandpiper one sees in little groups running up and down sandy beaches along the Atlantic Ocean itself. When waves slide up the beaches, gatherings of sanderlings run up the beaches ahead of the incoming water. But when each wave rolls down the beach to the ocean again because of gravity, the sanderlings quickly follow it to pick up and consume any tiny invertebrates that were stranded on the sand. Sanderlings are entertaining to watch. And this is the only sandpiper species that behaves in that way, on a sandy beach habitat in winter.
Sanderlings have pale-gray, winter plumages that allow them to blend into the color of the sand and be hard to see when they are still, which protects them from predation. And when they run up and down the beaches, their black legs move rapidly, almost as if they were on wind-up toys.
Dunlin flocks by the hundreds, or in the thousands, feed on invertebrates in the mud of mud flats that are exposed and unfrozen because of receding water when the tide is out. Dunlin are gray-brown on top and lighter underneath for camouflage on the mud. They are most likely to winter in salt marshes back from the ocean and beaches. There they are protected from cold, winter wind by the tall grass of salt marshes as they ingest invertebrates.
Purple sandpipers have dark feathering which camouflages them on the boulders of rugged seacoasts and human-made rock jetties. Jetties jut into the ocean at right angles to the beaches to protect those sandy beaches, where sanderlings roam, from wave erosion. And purple sandpipers found those jetties to be good substitutes to the rocky shorelines they traditionally winter on.
Purple sandpipers walk about on the boulders of jetties in their search for invertebrates to ingest. But these sandpipers are often overlooked until they move along the rocks or fly from boulder to boulder to new feeding spots because of their camouflaging plumages.
Notice how each kind of wintering sandpiper is in a particular niche- beaches, mud flats or boulders. By spreading into different habitats, these related birds reduce competition for food among themselves through winter. And notice, too, how each species takes on the color of its environment.
When along the Mid-Atlantic seacoast in winter, it might be interesting, and fun, to look for these kinds of sandpipers, and other species of that family, in the coastal habitats mentioned here. These sandpipers, gulls and other kinds of water birds certainly liven the seacoast in winter.
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Common Local Suckers
One day in the middle of May a few years ago I saw a swarm of foot-long, and longer, fish in a clear stream in western Chester County, Pennsylvania. Using binoculars, I could see they were gray on top with silver flanks and a broad, pink stripe on each side. Males had the pink flanks to show their breeding readiness to females in that group of fish about to spawn.
Those fish were white suckers, a kind of common fish that ranges from southern Canada to northern Florida and west to the Mississippi River. They, and northern hog suckers that have much the same range, commonly live and spawn in streams, creeks and impoundments large and smaller in the Middle Atlantic States, as elsewhere.
These related suckers that can grow up to 20 inches long have much in common, including having down-turned mouths to suck plants and animals off the bottoms of waterways and impoundments. Some of the items they eat are aquatic insect larvae, snails, small, freshwater clams, small fish and algae. Both species are most likely to live in schools in the rocky-bottomed, slow-moving pools of clear streams and creeks. And both kinds fall prey to other kinds of fish, herons, ospreys, bald eagles, mink, snapping turtles, northern water snakes and other types of predators around waterways and impoundments.
Both these suckers spawn from about mid-May to the middle of June on the stony bottoms of small, tributary streams. Amid much thrashing and splashing as they compete for a favorable position, two or more males of each respective species attend each female of their kind while she is laying her eggs to cover those eggs with their sperm. The more than 20,000 eggs per female sucker are spread randomly among the stones, and many stick to those stones. The eggs and young are on their own from the beginning and minnows and other kinds of fish consume many of those tiny eggs: Few grow to maturity. Some of those eggs slip down between the pebbles on the water bottoms where some of them are better protected from being consumed. Newly-hatched suckers feed on zooplankton and algae.
There are some differences between white suckers and northern hog suckers, which is why they are two distinct species. While white suckers can tolerate some pollution, siltation and low oxygen in the water, hog suckers can not. Therefore, hog suckers are more likely to live in better quality water than white suckers do, which reduces competition for space and food between these related fishes. The presence of hog suckers indicate good quality water.
Hog suckers have some physical differences from their local cousins. They have longer snouts they use to turn over stones in their search for food, hence their common name. Hogs are light brown all over with darker brown markings across their backs which camouflages them on the stream and lake bottoms. They also have reduced swim bladders that better allow them to lie on their pectoral and ventral fins on the bottom to feed, using their down-turned mouths to suck up food from the stony bottoms of bodies of water.
Suckers are interesting fish. And they demonstrate how the body of any animal is uniquely shaped to live successfully in a certain niche. During spring and the rest of the year, look for these finny creatures of waterways and impoundments.
Those fish were white suckers, a kind of common fish that ranges from southern Canada to northern Florida and west to the Mississippi River. They, and northern hog suckers that have much the same range, commonly live and spawn in streams, creeks and impoundments large and smaller in the Middle Atlantic States, as elsewhere.
These related suckers that can grow up to 20 inches long have much in common, including having down-turned mouths to suck plants and animals off the bottoms of waterways and impoundments. Some of the items they eat are aquatic insect larvae, snails, small, freshwater clams, small fish and algae. Both species are most likely to live in schools in the rocky-bottomed, slow-moving pools of clear streams and creeks. And both kinds fall prey to other kinds of fish, herons, ospreys, bald eagles, mink, snapping turtles, northern water snakes and other types of predators around waterways and impoundments.
Both these suckers spawn from about mid-May to the middle of June on the stony bottoms of small, tributary streams. Amid much thrashing and splashing as they compete for a favorable position, two or more males of each respective species attend each female of their kind while she is laying her eggs to cover those eggs with their sperm. The more than 20,000 eggs per female sucker are spread randomly among the stones, and many stick to those stones. The eggs and young are on their own from the beginning and minnows and other kinds of fish consume many of those tiny eggs: Few grow to maturity. Some of those eggs slip down between the pebbles on the water bottoms where some of them are better protected from being consumed. Newly-hatched suckers feed on zooplankton and algae.
There are some differences between white suckers and northern hog suckers, which is why they are two distinct species. While white suckers can tolerate some pollution, siltation and low oxygen in the water, hog suckers can not. Therefore, hog suckers are more likely to live in better quality water than white suckers do, which reduces competition for space and food between these related fishes. The presence of hog suckers indicate good quality water.
Hog suckers have some physical differences from their local cousins. They have longer snouts they use to turn over stones in their search for food, hence their common name. Hogs are light brown all over with darker brown markings across their backs which camouflages them on the stream and lake bottoms. They also have reduced swim bladders that better allow them to lie on their pectoral and ventral fins on the bottom to feed, using their down-turned mouths to suck up food from the stony bottoms of bodies of water.
Suckers are interesting fish. And they demonstrate how the body of any animal is uniquely shaped to live successfully in a certain niche. During spring and the rest of the year, look for these finny creatures of waterways and impoundments.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
A Field Trip Close to Home
I went on a short field trip near my home in New Holland, Pennsylvania on the warm, sunny afternoon of February 4, 2015. I didn't have a particular goal, but just wanted to experience what was happening in nature at the time.
I had just left town and was driving by a field when I noticed a few American robins in that field, then more and more. I stopped along the edge of the road and estimated a couple hundred robins were in that open space, probably feeding on invertebrates roused from the soil by the warmth. Were these migrant robins or were they in this area all winter. I know that each winter for years there has been about a score of robins in New Holland feeding on berries through winter. But this was a much larger flock of that species. If they were migrants, they are early because we usually see migrating robins early in March. My better guess is that they were around the New Holland area all winter, feeding on berries on trees and shrubbery in a relatively new suburban area on the edge of town.
Not a half mile down the country road I was on, I saw a flock of about 60 Canada geese eating grass in a pasture and about 50 mallard ducks on and beside Mill Creek that flows gently through that meadow. Though common and seen most everyday, those resident geese and ducks were a beautiful sight in that sunny, grassy pasture and sparkling, clear waterway. And while counting the ducks by the stream, I saw a great blue heron watching for fish in that waterway.
Continuing on that rural road, I went by a ten-acre patch of tall red juniper trees, with a few American holly and red maple trees in the mix. As I drove by slowly, I spotted a red-tailed hawk and then another one in the clear sky. I thought they could be a mated pair that has a nest somewhere in that juniper grove. I stopped to watch the red-tails and saw a third raptor of that kind come into view. One of the first hawks I saw dashed on powerful wing strokes after the third hawk, chasing it out of the area. That third red-tail probably was also looking for a nesting area and the first two hawks saw it as a competitor.
About a mile and a half out of New Holland, I turned around to drive home the way I came out. At that point, there is a 15 acre stand of maturing red maple trees on a bottomland along Mill Creek, with a border of weeds and grasses. A downy woodpecker chipped into a dead limb of a red maple after invertebrates in the wood. A little group each of dark-eyed juncos and American goldfinches fluttered among those weeds edging the woodlot and consumed many of their seeds. And about a half dozen eastern bluebirds, males and females, were catching small invertebrates that were activated by the warm sunlight. The bluebirds were particularly lovely when flashing their blue feathers in the sunlight.
On the way home, I stopped at a shallow rivulet of clear, running water to look for Wilson's snipe, which is a kind of inland sandpiper. I saw one a few yards from the road. As are all its kin, the snipe was dark brown, with beige and darker striping that allows those sandpipers to blend beautifully into their surroundings so well that they aren't visible until they move. This handsome snipe, as they all do, was busily poking its long beak into mud under the water to snare aquatic invertebrates.
I stopped at a thicket of sapling trees and cranberry viburnum bushes on the way home and saw a little gang of white-throated sparrows scratching in the leaves in their search for seeds and invertebrates to eat. White-throats nest farther north and only spend the winter in Lancaster County, as elsewhere in the eastern United States. They do, indeed, have a white throat that identifies them.
A northern mockingbird and a pair of northern cardinals were also in that thicket. The mocker was there to consume berries and the cardinals were there to ingest weed and grass seeds. Both these bird species are permanent residents and probably nest in that thicket.
As I was driving through farmland back to New Holland, I saw a group of about 20 wintering northern horned larks bounding low over a field, presumably from one feeding spot to another. But when they dropped to the ground, I couldn't see them because of their camouflaging plumages. Horned larks feed on weed and grass seeds and bits of corn left lying in the fields during winter. They actually live in those fields, hunkering down behind clods of soil at night to avoid cold winds.
And as I was approaching the meadow where the Canada geese were feeding a half hour earlier, I saw a flock of about 30 snow geese circling the fields ahead of me. I thought they might come down where the Canadas were feeding, but they didn't. In fact, the Canadas had left that meadow.
The snow geese were definitely migrants. They raise young on the Arctic tundra but come to many marsh and farmland places in the United States to spend the winter. Here they get food in abundance during that harshest of seasons. Those 30 snows were a prelude of the many thousands that will rest and feed in this county for a few weeks, waiting for spring to catch up to their restless hormones that push them north to breed.
The robins, too, were gone from the field they were in 40 minutes earlier. Perhaps they were full and quit feeding. Or maybe the were chased up by a Cooper's or sharp-shinned hawk. But the absence of the robins and geese in the last five minutes demonstrated that luck plays a role in what one experiences in nature. We have to be in the right place at the right time to experience much of nature. If we aren't, we think there isn't much wildlife in an area, when there's more than we know.
I was only out in nature for about 50 minutes and only drove a mile and a half from home, yet I saw a lot of nature for a winter day. Any reader can do the same. Just get out and look and, sometimes, much of nature will be seen or heard.
30 snow geese circling the neighboring fields.
I had just left town and was driving by a field when I noticed a few American robins in that field, then more and more. I stopped along the edge of the road and estimated a couple hundred robins were in that open space, probably feeding on invertebrates roused from the soil by the warmth. Were these migrant robins or were they in this area all winter. I know that each winter for years there has been about a score of robins in New Holland feeding on berries through winter. But this was a much larger flock of that species. If they were migrants, they are early because we usually see migrating robins early in March. My better guess is that they were around the New Holland area all winter, feeding on berries on trees and shrubbery in a relatively new suburban area on the edge of town.
Not a half mile down the country road I was on, I saw a flock of about 60 Canada geese eating grass in a pasture and about 50 mallard ducks on and beside Mill Creek that flows gently through that meadow. Though common and seen most everyday, those resident geese and ducks were a beautiful sight in that sunny, grassy pasture and sparkling, clear waterway. And while counting the ducks by the stream, I saw a great blue heron watching for fish in that waterway.
Continuing on that rural road, I went by a ten-acre patch of tall red juniper trees, with a few American holly and red maple trees in the mix. As I drove by slowly, I spotted a red-tailed hawk and then another one in the clear sky. I thought they could be a mated pair that has a nest somewhere in that juniper grove. I stopped to watch the red-tails and saw a third raptor of that kind come into view. One of the first hawks I saw dashed on powerful wing strokes after the third hawk, chasing it out of the area. That third red-tail probably was also looking for a nesting area and the first two hawks saw it as a competitor.
About a mile and a half out of New Holland, I turned around to drive home the way I came out. At that point, there is a 15 acre stand of maturing red maple trees on a bottomland along Mill Creek, with a border of weeds and grasses. A downy woodpecker chipped into a dead limb of a red maple after invertebrates in the wood. A little group each of dark-eyed juncos and American goldfinches fluttered among those weeds edging the woodlot and consumed many of their seeds. And about a half dozen eastern bluebirds, males and females, were catching small invertebrates that were activated by the warm sunlight. The bluebirds were particularly lovely when flashing their blue feathers in the sunlight.
On the way home, I stopped at a shallow rivulet of clear, running water to look for Wilson's snipe, which is a kind of inland sandpiper. I saw one a few yards from the road. As are all its kin, the snipe was dark brown, with beige and darker striping that allows those sandpipers to blend beautifully into their surroundings so well that they aren't visible until they move. This handsome snipe, as they all do, was busily poking its long beak into mud under the water to snare aquatic invertebrates.
I stopped at a thicket of sapling trees and cranberry viburnum bushes on the way home and saw a little gang of white-throated sparrows scratching in the leaves in their search for seeds and invertebrates to eat. White-throats nest farther north and only spend the winter in Lancaster County, as elsewhere in the eastern United States. They do, indeed, have a white throat that identifies them.
A northern mockingbird and a pair of northern cardinals were also in that thicket. The mocker was there to consume berries and the cardinals were there to ingest weed and grass seeds. Both these bird species are permanent residents and probably nest in that thicket.
As I was driving through farmland back to New Holland, I saw a group of about 20 wintering northern horned larks bounding low over a field, presumably from one feeding spot to another. But when they dropped to the ground, I couldn't see them because of their camouflaging plumages. Horned larks feed on weed and grass seeds and bits of corn left lying in the fields during winter. They actually live in those fields, hunkering down behind clods of soil at night to avoid cold winds.
And as I was approaching the meadow where the Canada geese were feeding a half hour earlier, I saw a flock of about 30 snow geese circling the fields ahead of me. I thought they might come down where the Canadas were feeding, but they didn't. In fact, the Canadas had left that meadow.
The snow geese were definitely migrants. They raise young on the Arctic tundra but come to many marsh and farmland places in the United States to spend the winter. Here they get food in abundance during that harshest of seasons. Those 30 snows were a prelude of the many thousands that will rest and feed in this county for a few weeks, waiting for spring to catch up to their restless hormones that push them north to breed.
The robins, too, were gone from the field they were in 40 minutes earlier. Perhaps they were full and quit feeding. Or maybe the were chased up by a Cooper's or sharp-shinned hawk. But the absence of the robins and geese in the last five minutes demonstrated that luck plays a role in what one experiences in nature. We have to be in the right place at the right time to experience much of nature. If we aren't, we think there isn't much wildlife in an area, when there's more than we know.
I was only out in nature for about 50 minutes and only drove a mile and a half from home, yet I saw a lot of nature for a winter day. Any reader can do the same. Just get out and look and, sometimes, much of nature will be seen or heard.
30 snow geese circling the neighboring fields.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Spring Peepers and Chorus Frogs
Many a warmer evening early in April in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania I have stood on the edges of shallow ponds and wetlands in moist, wooded bottomlands as darkness closed in around me and listened with awe to the sweet, earnest peeping of male spring peepers, a kind of tree frog. The air fills with their boisterous, high-pitched peeping, almost to the point of hurting my ears if I am close to those tiny frogs. And joining that wild, clamoring peeper chorus in certain wetlands are several rising calls that sound like someone running a finger along the edge of a plastic comb, "crreeeeeekk". Those raspy, but beautiful, trills are emitted by several male chorus frogs calling at once. Male peepers and chorus frogs call females of their respective kinds to join them in shallow water to spawn their many eggs. And I have always enjoyed hearing their intriguing, inspiring choruses, their bit of the wild in our civilized part of the world, their remnant of the amphibian age of long ago, in this area during April evenings. Some people, including me, go out of their way on April evenings to hear these wonderful, pleasing harbingers of the vernal season. And I have often stayed in the wetlands until dark when I was finally engulfed only by the damp coolness of the air and the wild, unceasing shouting of the romantic peepers.
Spring peepers and chorus frogs have several characteristics in common, partly because they are both in the Pseudacris genus. Both these related species are mostly nocturnal and have big eyes for better sight at night, They are both a little over an inch long at maturity and mostly brownish for blending into the wetland surroundings they often share. Those are reasons why they are mostly "voices in the wetlands" where they eat invertebrates, spawn, and hide during the day and through cold weather. Few people ever see them.
Both these tree frog species have extensive ranges in eastern North America, including here in the Mid-Atlantic States. In fact, these frogs are in North America exclusively. Both are "winter" frogs in the Deep South where they spawn on warmer, rainy days anytime from November into winter. But in the north they are harbingers of spring, calling and spawning from late March, sometimes even before all the ice has melted, through April. Male peepers and chorus frogs both sing from protective clumps of grass emerging from the inches-deep water, and the peepers also peep from emergent shrubs and trees.
Spring peepers range from Hudson Bay to northern Florida and west to the Mississippi River. They are tan with a darker X on their backs. The clear, loud peeping of the males is sometimes followed by a short trill. A peeper chorus from a short distance sounds like a jingling of small bells. Their delightful peeping is the best part of this species to us humans.
Chorus frogs as a group of several closely related species live in the American mid-west up to Hudson Bay. And they live along the forested Appalachian Mountains, the New Jersey Pine Barrens and other woody areas in the eastern United States. For the most part, they are yellowish-brown all over with elongated, irregularly-shaped, dark brown spots or short stripes. But, like the peepers, it's the males' trills in spring that are the best part of this species to us.
The reader might like to try listening for spring peeper and chorus frog choruses during evenings this winter or spring, or succeeding ones, depending where you live. Choruses start in winter in The South because of warmer average temperatures that allows these cold-blooded creatures to be active. But as spring progresses north, the spawning choruses of these frogs, and other frog species, begin when temperatures rise in each part of the country in turn.
Spring peepers and chorus frogs have several characteristics in common, partly because they are both in the Pseudacris genus. Both these related species are mostly nocturnal and have big eyes for better sight at night, They are both a little over an inch long at maturity and mostly brownish for blending into the wetland surroundings they often share. Those are reasons why they are mostly "voices in the wetlands" where they eat invertebrates, spawn, and hide during the day and through cold weather. Few people ever see them.
Both these tree frog species have extensive ranges in eastern North America, including here in the Mid-Atlantic States. In fact, these frogs are in North America exclusively. Both are "winter" frogs in the Deep South where they spawn on warmer, rainy days anytime from November into winter. But in the north they are harbingers of spring, calling and spawning from late March, sometimes even before all the ice has melted, through April. Male peepers and chorus frogs both sing from protective clumps of grass emerging from the inches-deep water, and the peepers also peep from emergent shrubs and trees.
Spring peepers range from Hudson Bay to northern Florida and west to the Mississippi River. They are tan with a darker X on their backs. The clear, loud peeping of the males is sometimes followed by a short trill. A peeper chorus from a short distance sounds like a jingling of small bells. Their delightful peeping is the best part of this species to us humans.
Chorus frogs as a group of several closely related species live in the American mid-west up to Hudson Bay. And they live along the forested Appalachian Mountains, the New Jersey Pine Barrens and other woody areas in the eastern United States. For the most part, they are yellowish-brown all over with elongated, irregularly-shaped, dark brown spots or short stripes. But, like the peepers, it's the males' trills in spring that are the best part of this species to us.
The reader might like to try listening for spring peeper and chorus frog choruses during evenings this winter or spring, or succeeding ones, depending where you live. Choruses start in winter in The South because of warmer average temperatures that allows these cold-blooded creatures to be active. But as spring progresses north, the spawning choruses of these frogs, and other frog species, begin when temperatures rise in each part of the country in turn.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
Some Beauties and Pleasues of Snow
Though snow is a pair to many of us, and downright dangerous, a few inches of it is pretty and interesting. Snow makes the whole landscape appear wilder, enhances the colors of vegetation and insulates ground-hugging plants from wind colder than the snow and small creatures from severe cold and predation.
Snow makes the landscape prettier, even on gray days. Snow makes the greens, grays and yellows of vegetation be more vivid, and stand out more. The blue-gray of distant woods also is enhanced by a snow cover. We can better see the details of twigs, weeds and tall grasses against the snow. And we can better see white-tailed deer and other animals on the snow at dusk and on moonlit nights.
Heavy, wet snow sticks to the branches of trees, pushing down the needled boughs of coniferous ones and beautifully outlining the tops of horizontal deciduous limbs and twigs in studies of white and dark. Squirrels and several kinds of birds find shelter from wind and predators under the cover of the heaped snow and needles on the conifers.
A variety of little critters in the Mid-Atlantic States, as elsewhere, have different strategies of surviving winter. Some animals sleep in the burrows most of winter, either living off their fat as wood chucks do, or awaking periodically through winter to eat stored seeds and nuts as eastern chipmunks do. Still others are active under a snow cover that protects them, as is a kind of mouse called a meadow mouse or field vole.
The great naturalist, Aldo Leopold, wrote about meadow mice in winter in his SAND COUNTY ALMANAC. "The mouse is a sober citizen who knows that grass grows in order that mice may store it as underground haystacks, and that snow falls in order that mice may build subways from stack to stack; supply, demand and transport all neatly organized. To the mouse, snow means freedom from want and fear".
Field voles live in fields and meadows, and along roadsides where the vegetation may get mowed occasionally, but not plowed under, allowing those mice to become well established along rural roads. In winter, when snow covers the ground, voles chew and tunnel through the grass under that protective cover of snow, more free of predation than before the snow fell. Now they can travel more freely in search of food and mates. But when the snow melts away, the voles' avenues, and themselves, are again exposed to predators, including hawks, owls, foxes and other kinds of predatory creatures.
Those of us who look for animal tracks in the snow can know what creatures are active and read what they were doing in the near past, such as where they were feeding and on what, and where they were traveling to. Following animal prints in the snow is intriguing.
Deer tracks are easy to identify. They have two toes, each one of which is sharp-pointed in the front, like the prints of cattle, but much smaller. White-tails here usually live in woodlots and thickets among fields.
Each back foot of an opossum has a toe that resembles a human thumb. Possum tracks, too, should be easy to identify.
The foot steps of red foxes in the snow demonstrate the grace and ease of the trotting foxes. Their series of prints are all directly ahead of each other, showing the slimness of those cunning members of the dog family.
The tracks of cottontail rabbits in our yards or along a hedgerow between fields is easy to identify, too. When the rabbit is running, its hind feet land on the snow in front of where the front feet made imprints in the snow. Therefore each set of rabbit tracks has two large foot prints side by side, followed by two smaller prints, one behind the other.
Gray squirrel tracks, which are quite common on maturing lawns with lots of big oak trees, are like rabbit prints, except that both back feet and both front feet land on the snow side by side.
The tracks of small birds are tiny and have three toes in front, and one toe in back to keep the birds from falling over backwards. The prints of small birds are usually around food sources such as weeds and grasses loaded with seeds, or around bird feeders.
Some of the bigger birds have more easily identifiable prints in the snow. The steps of ducks and geese are webbed. Great blue herons leave huge tracks and those of American crows are similar, but much smaller.
Snow melts in predictable ways, gently watering the landscape. Snow melts first on the south or sunny sides of rocks, trees and other objects where it absorbs more warming sunlight. The rocks and trees also soak up the sun's warmth and radiates it out, melting snow around them. Snow readily melts around running water that doesn't easily freeze. Snow also melts first on south-facing slopes because they get more direct sunshine.
Snow is perishable in the warmth and remains on the ground for limited time. But while it is on the ground, it has an impact on some of the plants and small animals wintering close to the soil. And we can enjoy reading the tracks of some of those animals in the snow cover. Snow can be a pain, but it also enhances the beauties of the landscape and gives us enjoyment.
Snow makes the landscape prettier, even on gray days. Snow makes the greens, grays and yellows of vegetation be more vivid, and stand out more. The blue-gray of distant woods also is enhanced by a snow cover. We can better see the details of twigs, weeds and tall grasses against the snow. And we can better see white-tailed deer and other animals on the snow at dusk and on moonlit nights.
Heavy, wet snow sticks to the branches of trees, pushing down the needled boughs of coniferous ones and beautifully outlining the tops of horizontal deciduous limbs and twigs in studies of white and dark. Squirrels and several kinds of birds find shelter from wind and predators under the cover of the heaped snow and needles on the conifers.
A variety of little critters in the Mid-Atlantic States, as elsewhere, have different strategies of surviving winter. Some animals sleep in the burrows most of winter, either living off their fat as wood chucks do, or awaking periodically through winter to eat stored seeds and nuts as eastern chipmunks do. Still others are active under a snow cover that protects them, as is a kind of mouse called a meadow mouse or field vole.
The great naturalist, Aldo Leopold, wrote about meadow mice in winter in his SAND COUNTY ALMANAC. "The mouse is a sober citizen who knows that grass grows in order that mice may store it as underground haystacks, and that snow falls in order that mice may build subways from stack to stack; supply, demand and transport all neatly organized. To the mouse, snow means freedom from want and fear".
Field voles live in fields and meadows, and along roadsides where the vegetation may get mowed occasionally, but not plowed under, allowing those mice to become well established along rural roads. In winter, when snow covers the ground, voles chew and tunnel through the grass under that protective cover of snow, more free of predation than before the snow fell. Now they can travel more freely in search of food and mates. But when the snow melts away, the voles' avenues, and themselves, are again exposed to predators, including hawks, owls, foxes and other kinds of predatory creatures.
Those of us who look for animal tracks in the snow can know what creatures are active and read what they were doing in the near past, such as where they were feeding and on what, and where they were traveling to. Following animal prints in the snow is intriguing.
Deer tracks are easy to identify. They have two toes, each one of which is sharp-pointed in the front, like the prints of cattle, but much smaller. White-tails here usually live in woodlots and thickets among fields.
Each back foot of an opossum has a toe that resembles a human thumb. Possum tracks, too, should be easy to identify.
The foot steps of red foxes in the snow demonstrate the grace and ease of the trotting foxes. Their series of prints are all directly ahead of each other, showing the slimness of those cunning members of the dog family.
The tracks of cottontail rabbits in our yards or along a hedgerow between fields is easy to identify, too. When the rabbit is running, its hind feet land on the snow in front of where the front feet made imprints in the snow. Therefore each set of rabbit tracks has two large foot prints side by side, followed by two smaller prints, one behind the other.
Gray squirrel tracks, which are quite common on maturing lawns with lots of big oak trees, are like rabbit prints, except that both back feet and both front feet land on the snow side by side.
The tracks of small birds are tiny and have three toes in front, and one toe in back to keep the birds from falling over backwards. The prints of small birds are usually around food sources such as weeds and grasses loaded with seeds, or around bird feeders.
Some of the bigger birds have more easily identifiable prints in the snow. The steps of ducks and geese are webbed. Great blue herons leave huge tracks and those of American crows are similar, but much smaller.
Snow melts in predictable ways, gently watering the landscape. Snow melts first on the south or sunny sides of rocks, trees and other objects where it absorbs more warming sunlight. The rocks and trees also soak up the sun's warmth and radiates it out, melting snow around them. Snow readily melts around running water that doesn't easily freeze. Snow also melts first on south-facing slopes because they get more direct sunshine.
Snow is perishable in the warmth and remains on the ground for limited time. But while it is on the ground, it has an impact on some of the plants and small animals wintering close to the soil. And we can enjoy reading the tracks of some of those animals in the snow cover. Snow can be a pain, but it also enhances the beauties of the landscape and gives us enjoyment.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
The Entertaining Gray Squirrels
No animal in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania is as consistently entertaining as gray squirrels. They are, as we say, as much fun as a barrel of monkeys. They are intelligent rodents, nimble for life in trees, lively, adaptable, common, and visible to us people on a regular basis. They are daytime creatures on private lawns in cities and suburbs, in parks, forests, woodlots and hedgerows, and in farmland meadows, places where at least a few trees produce berries, seeds or nuts for them to eat. They are permanent residents wherever they live and active year around. They store many nuts and seeds for winter food in tree crannies or holes they dig in the ground. But some of those fruits in the soil sprout, creating new plants that eventually produce food that future squirrels will ingest.
Gray squirrels readily consume grain in bird feeders, either from the feeders themselves, or from the ground under the feeders. Several squirrels eating bird food can be expensive to the home owner. These squirrels, including the six or more that live in about two acres of lawn studded with several trees in my neighborhood, can solve problems, like how to get on a bird feeder. As a species, they've had eons of experience plotting travel routes along limbs in the tree tops to get from tree to tree to tree. I think they may have glimmers of thought, thinking ahead and reasoning. They certainly do like to explore their surroundings, which I think is a sign of intelligence.
Gray squirrels have gray fur to allow them to blend into their habitat of tree trunks and branches to be invisible to predators. If spotted, however, they scuttle around a limb or trunk to avoid the predator. But red-tailed hawks and great horned owls are big and strong enough to catch and kill gray squirrels. If the reader thinks they have too many squirrels in their neighborhood, tolerate the presence of the red-tails and horned owls.
Like all rodents, gray squirrels have teeth that grow all their lives. They need such teeth to be able to chew hard food, which wears teeth down. But if rodents don't keep their teeth gnawed down, those dentures could grow into the opposite jaw, causing pain and locking the mouth shut which could cause starvation. So each rodent must have a balance between the rate its teeth grow and those teeth being chewed down to be functional, but not too long or too short.
Gray squirrels, like their squirrel cousins, live and rear babies in tree cavities, if they can find empty ones. Barred owls, screech owls, American kestrels, raccoons, opossums and other critters in this area, as elsewhere, are competitors with squirrels for those limited tree hollows. If a squirrel can't find an unused tree cavity, it will make an obvious ball of dead leaves among twigs in the tree tops. This leafy nest is big enough to insulate and protect the squirrel from weather and predation. At night and during days of inclement weather, each squirrel curls inside its large, bushy tail in the middle of its leafy nest.
Gray squirrels can also get into peoples' attics, cabins and other buildings where they can be pests by chewing on everything and dropping poop everywhere. To the squirrels, those human-made places are big tree hollows that provide ample shelter. The best ways to get them out of those buildings is to either live trap them and release them in a woods some distance away or close their entrances during the day when those rodents are outside foraging for food.
Though too many of them can be a pain, gray squirrels are interesting, even funny at times. They are also part of several food chains and start woodlands by burying nuts and seeds in the ground that they don't dig up later. Try to tolerate and enjoy these interesting, little rodents.
Gray squirrels readily consume grain in bird feeders, either from the feeders themselves, or from the ground under the feeders. Several squirrels eating bird food can be expensive to the home owner. These squirrels, including the six or more that live in about two acres of lawn studded with several trees in my neighborhood, can solve problems, like how to get on a bird feeder. As a species, they've had eons of experience plotting travel routes along limbs in the tree tops to get from tree to tree to tree. I think they may have glimmers of thought, thinking ahead and reasoning. They certainly do like to explore their surroundings, which I think is a sign of intelligence.
Gray squirrels have gray fur to allow them to blend into their habitat of tree trunks and branches to be invisible to predators. If spotted, however, they scuttle around a limb or trunk to avoid the predator. But red-tailed hawks and great horned owls are big and strong enough to catch and kill gray squirrels. If the reader thinks they have too many squirrels in their neighborhood, tolerate the presence of the red-tails and horned owls.
Like all rodents, gray squirrels have teeth that grow all their lives. They need such teeth to be able to chew hard food, which wears teeth down. But if rodents don't keep their teeth gnawed down, those dentures could grow into the opposite jaw, causing pain and locking the mouth shut which could cause starvation. So each rodent must have a balance between the rate its teeth grow and those teeth being chewed down to be functional, but not too long or too short.
Gray squirrels, like their squirrel cousins, live and rear babies in tree cavities, if they can find empty ones. Barred owls, screech owls, American kestrels, raccoons, opossums and other critters in this area, as elsewhere, are competitors with squirrels for those limited tree hollows. If a squirrel can't find an unused tree cavity, it will make an obvious ball of dead leaves among twigs in the tree tops. This leafy nest is big enough to insulate and protect the squirrel from weather and predation. At night and during days of inclement weather, each squirrel curls inside its large, bushy tail in the middle of its leafy nest.
Gray squirrels can also get into peoples' attics, cabins and other buildings where they can be pests by chewing on everything and dropping poop everywhere. To the squirrels, those human-made places are big tree hollows that provide ample shelter. The best ways to get them out of those buildings is to either live trap them and release them in a woods some distance away or close their entrances during the day when those rodents are outside foraging for food.
Though too many of them can be a pain, gray squirrels are interesting, even funny at times. They are also part of several food chains and start woodlands by burying nuts and seeds in the ground that they don't dig up later. Try to tolerate and enjoy these interesting, little rodents.
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