Ring-necked ducks and common merganser ducks are the diving ducks that probably most commonly migrate through southeastern Pennsylvania every March. These two species of ducks, from different families of diving ducks, are more adapted to fresh water than other members of their respective families, the reason they migrate inland more than their relatives do. Rafts of them land on human-made impoundments and abandoned and flooded quarries to rest and feed before continuing their migrations, providing more interest to those built lakes and ponds. Those impoundments, by the way, provide more food and resting places for these ducks and other other types of water creatures.
Flocks of the mergansers and a few ring-necks winter here, if the impoundments stay at least partly ice-free. But the numbers of both species are greatly increased by migrants in March.
Drakes of both species are handsome in black and white. Male mergansers are black on top with a green sheen to their heads and white on their sides and bellies. That white causes them to be spotted for a bit of a distance in large bodies of water. They also have red beaks. Drake ring-necks are black on top and gray on their flanks, with a vertical, white bar in front of each gray side. Those white bars stand out and aid in identifying this species from its close relatives
Females of each kind are different than their mates. Hen mergansers have gray plumage on their bodies and reddish-brown heads, each with a shaggy crest that makes them look like they had a bad feather day. Female ring-necks are basically brown. Females of both kinds are camouflaged to hatch eggs and rear ducklings in relative safety.
Both these species nest in southern Canada and winter in the southern United States. They migrate through southeastern Pennsylvania in spring and fall, and some individuals of each type winter here.
While here on migration, ring-necked ducks dive under water to feed on aquatic vegetation and invertebrates they find on the bottoms of the impoundments they rest on. They shovel up that food with their spoon-like beaks.
Ring-necked ducks are classified with the bay duck family, Aythyinae, all of which are diving ducks. Other members of their family are greater and lesser scaups, redhead ducks and canvasback ducks, all of which are more likely to winter in large rafts on the brackish and salt water of estuaries and inlets off the oceans. But a few migrant individuals each of a couple species of bay ducks at a time join ring-necks on fresh water lakes and ponds. Redheads and canvasbacks, by the way, do have reddish-orange head feathers.
Common mergansers also dive under water and use their long, thin, serrated bills for grabbing small fish. They bring their victims to the surface to swallow them. It's interesting to see several individuals of either species taking turns ducking under water for several seconds, then popping up while others dive. They create an interesting, entertaining show on the water.
After a few weeks in March, resting and feeding on fresh water impoundments here, as elsewhere, ring-necks and mergansers push farther north and west to their breeding grounds. But their beauties and habits were a joy to experience while they were in this area in winter and, especially, during March.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Monday, March 30, 2015
Farming That Benefits Wildlife
Farmland in southeastern Pennsylvania, and elsewhere, is a tough habitat for many types of wildlife to cope with because of the human-made disturbances in it, such as plowing, discing, planting and harvesting. But some species of wildlife have adapted to getting food because of various farming practices, including spreading livestock manure, dumping dead chickens, turkeys and other livestock on fields to be rid of them, plowing and harvesting grain.
Several kinds of wildlife benefit from spreading manure on top of snow in winter. Those animal droppings are full of corn kernels that were chewed into bits but not thoroughly digested by large livestock. Resident horned larks, rock pigeons, mourning doves, mallard ducks, black ducks and Canada geese, wintering American crows, and migrant tundra swans, snow geese and pintail ducks are some of the birds that scratch into the manure at some time to eat corn particles when all other grain and seeds in the fields are covered with snow. Sometimes, several species of those birds fly down to manure strips in fields at once, creating interesting sightings for bird watchers.
Dead chickens, turkeys and other farm animals thrown into the fields in winter are food for resident turkey vultures, black vultures, coyotes and red foxes, and wintering American crows, red-tailed hawks and bald eagles. The coyotes and foxes are active at night mostly and are not often seen in the wide open fields. But the birds are diurnal and readily spotted feeding on dead animals in cropland. One can see the vultures, crows and other scavenging birds circling and descending cautiously to the fields to feed on the dead critters, often creating quite a show in winter when agricultural areas seem particularly barren of wildlife. Often there is competition and squabbling among the various bird species over the dead meat lying frozen in the fields.
Several kinds of birds benefit from plowing and discing the fields in March and April. I'm sure those birds associate plowing and discing with food. Flocks of ring-billed gulls that wintered here and others of that species migrating north quickly drop to plowed farmland to eat earthworms and other invertebrates from the furrows. The gulls flounce into the furrows right behind the plows before those soil critters can escape. And while each gull is catching creatures and eating them on the spot, other gulls are dropping into the furrows right behind the plows, but in front of the birds already in those trenches. Meanwhile, the gulls in the back of the furrows fly up and forward to again come down in the front of it, thus creating a pinwheel affect that is quite interesting and entertaining to watch in the cropland.
Flocks of American crows, American robins and purple grackles, and individual killdeer plovers, also feed on innumerable invertebrates turned up by plows. They walk about on the lumpy soil, picking up earthworms and other critters as they go.
A couple of times I have seen an American kestrel on a roadside wire watching a field being plowed. And each one of those little falcons, those peregrine relatives, zipped down to the field to grab and ingest earthworms. I was astounded by each of those tiny, worm-eating raptors because kestrels can kill mice, grasshoppers and small birds and there they were consuming earthworms.
When farmers harvest wheat and barley in summer and corn in fall with automatic harvest machinery, they are also providing a variety of birds and mammals that eat grain from the ground with abundant food. Groups of resident mourning doves, rock pigeons and house sparrows, and nesting purple grackles and American crows flutter down to move over the harvested fields to eat grain that was missed by the harvesters.
Meanwhile, field voles that live in roadside banks wander into the fields at night to feed on waste grain. Those mice are vulnerable to the attacks of red foxes, coyotes and owls at night and red-tailed hawks and kestrels during the day. All those wild critters are in food chains based on the mice and grain in harvested cropland.
These are farming practices that enable certain kinds of adaptable wildlife to get food in abundance from an otherwise tough environment. And those same creatures provide interest and entertainment to people who know what to look for in agricultural areas.
Several kinds of wildlife benefit from spreading manure on top of snow in winter. Those animal droppings are full of corn kernels that were chewed into bits but not thoroughly digested by large livestock. Resident horned larks, rock pigeons, mourning doves, mallard ducks, black ducks and Canada geese, wintering American crows, and migrant tundra swans, snow geese and pintail ducks are some of the birds that scratch into the manure at some time to eat corn particles when all other grain and seeds in the fields are covered with snow. Sometimes, several species of those birds fly down to manure strips in fields at once, creating interesting sightings for bird watchers.
Dead chickens, turkeys and other farm animals thrown into the fields in winter are food for resident turkey vultures, black vultures, coyotes and red foxes, and wintering American crows, red-tailed hawks and bald eagles. The coyotes and foxes are active at night mostly and are not often seen in the wide open fields. But the birds are diurnal and readily spotted feeding on dead animals in cropland. One can see the vultures, crows and other scavenging birds circling and descending cautiously to the fields to feed on the dead critters, often creating quite a show in winter when agricultural areas seem particularly barren of wildlife. Often there is competition and squabbling among the various bird species over the dead meat lying frozen in the fields.
Several kinds of birds benefit from plowing and discing the fields in March and April. I'm sure those birds associate plowing and discing with food. Flocks of ring-billed gulls that wintered here and others of that species migrating north quickly drop to plowed farmland to eat earthworms and other invertebrates from the furrows. The gulls flounce into the furrows right behind the plows before those soil critters can escape. And while each gull is catching creatures and eating them on the spot, other gulls are dropping into the furrows right behind the plows, but in front of the birds already in those trenches. Meanwhile, the gulls in the back of the furrows fly up and forward to again come down in the front of it, thus creating a pinwheel affect that is quite interesting and entertaining to watch in the cropland.
Flocks of American crows, American robins and purple grackles, and individual killdeer plovers, also feed on innumerable invertebrates turned up by plows. They walk about on the lumpy soil, picking up earthworms and other critters as they go.
A couple of times I have seen an American kestrel on a roadside wire watching a field being plowed. And each one of those little falcons, those peregrine relatives, zipped down to the field to grab and ingest earthworms. I was astounded by each of those tiny, worm-eating raptors because kestrels can kill mice, grasshoppers and small birds and there they were consuming earthworms.
When farmers harvest wheat and barley in summer and corn in fall with automatic harvest machinery, they are also providing a variety of birds and mammals that eat grain from the ground with abundant food. Groups of resident mourning doves, rock pigeons and house sparrows, and nesting purple grackles and American crows flutter down to move over the harvested fields to eat grain that was missed by the harvesters.
Meanwhile, field voles that live in roadside banks wander into the fields at night to feed on waste grain. Those mice are vulnerable to the attacks of red foxes, coyotes and owls at night and red-tailed hawks and kestrels during the day. All those wild critters are in food chains based on the mice and grain in harvested cropland.
These are farming practices that enable certain kinds of adaptable wildlife to get food in abundance from an otherwise tough environment. And those same creatures provide interest and entertainment to people who know what to look for in agricultural areas.
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Birds I Enjoy Watching Most
I enjoy all of nature, including birds, here in the Middle Atlantic States. And I like observing most kinds of birds, especially Tundra swans, Canada geese, snow geese, pintail ducks, ring-billed gulls, flocks of blackbirds, turkey vultures, two kinds of migrant hawks, black skimmers, sanderlings and laughing gulls. These birds are all easily seen because they are large, or live in the open, or both. And they all are common here at least part of each year.
Tundra swans, Canada geese, snow geese and pintail ducks are related waterfowl that pass through this area during their early spring migration, though some Canadas are permanent residents here. The majestic swans in their gatherings of a few individuals, dozens or scores of birds and the magnificent Canadas in their flocks of scores or hundreds are graceful and beautiful in their V's and long lines powering swiftly across the sky. And both those noisy species are exciting to see taking off into the wind from land or water, group after group, and parachuting down on out-stretched wings, again into the wind, to the ground to feed on vegetation or impoundments to rest, preen and socialize. The stately swans and geese are never quiet.
Snow geese flood the air, ground and certain impoundments of this area from mid-February into March. Their vast numbers make whole fields white as if snow fell only on those particular ones. And when great hordes of snows take to the air at once with a racket of excited honking and wing flapping, the landscape behind them disappears as if behind a blizzard. There is nothing like the overwhelming blaring of tens of thousands of snow geese together in the air, or anywhere, to cause such a height of excitement among people.
Nuptial flights of lithe pintail ducks are interesting to see when migrating through this area during February and March. A female pintail will take off in swift flight from a pond or field with about a half dozen pintail drakes along with her. The hen circles the water or ground in swift, erratic flight for a few minutes and the male that can keep up with her best gets to be her mate for the season. When several females and their pursuing wooers at once swing over an impoundment several times then zip down to the water again, they create an interesting show.
I like to watch ring-billed gulls float gently down to fields being plowed in spring. Each gull lands in the furrow just behind the plow to catch earthworms and other invertebrates that were turned up. But as that gull is procuring food, other gulls drop into the furrow just behind the plow and ahead of the gulls already in that ditch. The result is a continuous pinwheel of ring-bills seeking a place in the furrow right behind the plow to have first shot at the upturned food. Those feeding gulls are intriguing to watch.
Massive floods of purple grackles and red-winged blackbirds are overwhelming in fields from late February into early March. Rivers of these two species called blackbirds pour into this area and flow over the fields to consume anything edible to them. And when they take off or come down in another field, their tremendous numbers shut out the background as effectively as snow geese or a blizzard.
While the birds are pouring low across the fields, one sees innumerable red flashes like licking flames in a black furnace. That red is the shoulder patches of male red-winged blackbirds that otherwise have black plumage.
Purple grackles also have black feathering. But their plumage shines with iridescent purple, green or bronze in the light.
Soon the red-wings and grackles trickle away from their main floods to nesting habitats in this area. The red-wings make grassy nurseries in farmland cattail marshes and the grackles build mud and grass cradles in coniferous trees in suburban areas.
Turkey vultures are interesting to watch forming lazy circles in the sky. These large, scavenging birds soar effortlessly on high, tipping their slightly upturned wings from side to side to maintain position and balance in the wind or air currents. Though vultures are not the prettiest birds on Earth, they are quite graceful and masterful in the air. Their soaring is like poetry or good music.
Migrating hawks are also inspiring to see on high, but particularly broad-wings, northern harriers and sharp-shins. In September and October, broad-wings almost daily migrate south-west to Mexico and northern South America. Each sunny morning they rise from the tree tops they spent the night in and soar across the landscape as they feel for a rising column of air, a thermal, warmed by the sun. When one or a few broadies feel a thermal they spiral up in it and peel off to the southwest at its top. Gravity slowly pulls the hawks down, so they must find another thermal to give them lift without expending a lot of energy. This they do day after sunny day until they reach northern South America early in November.
Migrant northern harriers are also interesting to watch hunting mice and small birds along their travels. When hunting, those large hawks beat their wings just enough to stay a few feet off the ground and moving forward slowly into the wind as they watch and listen for prey. Then they swing about in the wind and power into it again while being on the look out for victims.
All the species of birds discussed above can be spotted inland. But there are a few other types of birds, seen mostly along the sea coast, I like to observe. Black skimmers are intriguing to watch as they forage for small fish in the surface water of harbors and inlets behind barrier islands off the ocean. The lower mandible of each skimmer's beak is longer than the upper one. The lower part of the bill is dipped into the water's surface as the bird flies and when a small fish is felt against the beak, the bird snaps it shut to grab the fish. Several skimmers skimming back and forth, back and forth, just above the water is exciting to see. I never grow tired of seeing them.
Sanderlings are sandpipers that winter in little flocks on beaches along the oceans. When a wave slides up the beach, the sanderlings all run together up the beach ahead of it. But when the wave recedes down the beach, the sanderlings, their black legs moving quickly like those on small, mechanical toys, all run after it to pick up and consume any tiny invertebrates left behind. This is how wintering sanderlings feed all day, every day and it is amusing to watch.
I think laughing gulls are the icon of summering birds along the Atlantic sea coast. They are everywhere in abundance along the shore, standing in groups on beaches and parking lots while watching for food, or floating gracefully into the wind while doing the same. And they'll eat almost anything, including handouts from humans. Much of the time these common gulls with black heads call to each other, which sounds much like raucous laughter. Their cries dominate the sounds of coastal beaches, and the salt marshes where they raise young.
These are my favorite birds to observe. Perhaps some readers have other parts of nature they enjoy watching as much as possible.
Tundra swans, Canada geese, snow geese and pintail ducks are related waterfowl that pass through this area during their early spring migration, though some Canadas are permanent residents here. The majestic swans in their gatherings of a few individuals, dozens or scores of birds and the magnificent Canadas in their flocks of scores or hundreds are graceful and beautiful in their V's and long lines powering swiftly across the sky. And both those noisy species are exciting to see taking off into the wind from land or water, group after group, and parachuting down on out-stretched wings, again into the wind, to the ground to feed on vegetation or impoundments to rest, preen and socialize. The stately swans and geese are never quiet.
Snow geese flood the air, ground and certain impoundments of this area from mid-February into March. Their vast numbers make whole fields white as if snow fell only on those particular ones. And when great hordes of snows take to the air at once with a racket of excited honking and wing flapping, the landscape behind them disappears as if behind a blizzard. There is nothing like the overwhelming blaring of tens of thousands of snow geese together in the air, or anywhere, to cause such a height of excitement among people.
Nuptial flights of lithe pintail ducks are interesting to see when migrating through this area during February and March. A female pintail will take off in swift flight from a pond or field with about a half dozen pintail drakes along with her. The hen circles the water or ground in swift, erratic flight for a few minutes and the male that can keep up with her best gets to be her mate for the season. When several females and their pursuing wooers at once swing over an impoundment several times then zip down to the water again, they create an interesting show.
I like to watch ring-billed gulls float gently down to fields being plowed in spring. Each gull lands in the furrow just behind the plow to catch earthworms and other invertebrates that were turned up. But as that gull is procuring food, other gulls drop into the furrow just behind the plow and ahead of the gulls already in that ditch. The result is a continuous pinwheel of ring-bills seeking a place in the furrow right behind the plow to have first shot at the upturned food. Those feeding gulls are intriguing to watch.
Massive floods of purple grackles and red-winged blackbirds are overwhelming in fields from late February into early March. Rivers of these two species called blackbirds pour into this area and flow over the fields to consume anything edible to them. And when they take off or come down in another field, their tremendous numbers shut out the background as effectively as snow geese or a blizzard.
While the birds are pouring low across the fields, one sees innumerable red flashes like licking flames in a black furnace. That red is the shoulder patches of male red-winged blackbirds that otherwise have black plumage.
Purple grackles also have black feathering. But their plumage shines with iridescent purple, green or bronze in the light.
Soon the red-wings and grackles trickle away from their main floods to nesting habitats in this area. The red-wings make grassy nurseries in farmland cattail marshes and the grackles build mud and grass cradles in coniferous trees in suburban areas.
Turkey vultures are interesting to watch forming lazy circles in the sky. These large, scavenging birds soar effortlessly on high, tipping their slightly upturned wings from side to side to maintain position and balance in the wind or air currents. Though vultures are not the prettiest birds on Earth, they are quite graceful and masterful in the air. Their soaring is like poetry or good music.
Migrating hawks are also inspiring to see on high, but particularly broad-wings, northern harriers and sharp-shins. In September and October, broad-wings almost daily migrate south-west to Mexico and northern South America. Each sunny morning they rise from the tree tops they spent the night in and soar across the landscape as they feel for a rising column of air, a thermal, warmed by the sun. When one or a few broadies feel a thermal they spiral up in it and peel off to the southwest at its top. Gravity slowly pulls the hawks down, so they must find another thermal to give them lift without expending a lot of energy. This they do day after sunny day until they reach northern South America early in November.
Migrant northern harriers are also interesting to watch hunting mice and small birds along their travels. When hunting, those large hawks beat their wings just enough to stay a few feet off the ground and moving forward slowly into the wind as they watch and listen for prey. Then they swing about in the wind and power into it again while being on the look out for victims.
All the species of birds discussed above can be spotted inland. But there are a few other types of birds, seen mostly along the sea coast, I like to observe. Black skimmers are intriguing to watch as they forage for small fish in the surface water of harbors and inlets behind barrier islands off the ocean. The lower mandible of each skimmer's beak is longer than the upper one. The lower part of the bill is dipped into the water's surface as the bird flies and when a small fish is felt against the beak, the bird snaps it shut to grab the fish. Several skimmers skimming back and forth, back and forth, just above the water is exciting to see. I never grow tired of seeing them.
Sanderlings are sandpipers that winter in little flocks on beaches along the oceans. When a wave slides up the beach, the sanderlings all run together up the beach ahead of it. But when the wave recedes down the beach, the sanderlings, their black legs moving quickly like those on small, mechanical toys, all run after it to pick up and consume any tiny invertebrates left behind. This is how wintering sanderlings feed all day, every day and it is amusing to watch.
I think laughing gulls are the icon of summering birds along the Atlantic sea coast. They are everywhere in abundance along the shore, standing in groups on beaches and parking lots while watching for food, or floating gracefully into the wind while doing the same. And they'll eat almost anything, including handouts from humans. Much of the time these common gulls with black heads call to each other, which sounds much like raucous laughter. Their cries dominate the sounds of coastal beaches, and the salt marshes where they raise young.
These are my favorite birds to observe. Perhaps some readers have other parts of nature they enjoy watching as much as possible.
Thursday, March 26, 2015
Natural Music at Dusk in April
April evenings in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania are one of the most lovely and inspiring times of year. Daylight each succeeding day gets longer, the landscape turns greener, and there is much natural music into the dark of night to enjoy and excite our imaginations and feelings. Spring is in the air and its wonderful to get outside in the warmth and sunlight of longer evenings.
Male American robins and white-throated sparrows sing from thickets in hedgerows, woodland edges and maturing suburban areas, with their many trees and shrubs. The robins will stay where they are singing to raise young through the rest of spring well into summer. But the white-throats will migrate farther north to their nesting territories.
Robins' songs are loud and cheery and are heard mostly at dawn and dusk, but anytime through the day as well. White-throats' whistled songs, uttered mostly in the evenings, are gentle and inspiring, and consist of two long notes, followed by four shorter notes, all on the same pitch.
Late in April, we hear the flute-like notes of wood thrushes singing in the woods and the piping, cheery songs of gray catbirds from shrubbery in hedgerows, woodland edges and suburban areas. These birds have just come north to raise young and will continue to sing during most every dusk through May, June and most of July.
Male spring peepers, which are a type of tree frog, pickerel frogs and American toads peep, snore and trill respectively in local, woodsy wetlands during April evenings and into the nights, and on rainy days. These three types of tailless amphibians create ancient concerts of their own, or together in unison. Their timeless, wild calling, which can be heard by us humans a few hundred yards away, brings the females of each species to the males in shallow water for spawning of eggs, in gelatin masses from the frogs, and in jelly strings stuck to vegetation from the toads.
Some people go out of their way during April evenings to hear the primitive, beautiful calling of these frogs and toads. To them, those amphibian sounds are inspiring, and another sign that spring has truly arrived.
Male American woodcocks court from the same wooded bottomlands where the frogs and toads call and spawn, and at the same time. However, the woodcocks, being warm-blooded, start their displays during March evenings.
Woodcocks, a kind of inland sandpiper, live and hatch young in low, successional woodlands throughout most of the eastern United States. They poke their long beaks into the moist soil of bottomland woods to feed on earthworms and other invertebrates they pull out of the ground.
Courting male woodcocks fly out of the woods soon after sunset and land on a spot of bare soil in a clearing near the woods. There they stand with their long bills on their chests and vocally, repeatedly "beep" for about a minute. Then they take off in upward, spiral flight, their wings twittering rhythmically, until they are almost out of sight. Then they vocally sing, the lovely notes seeming to fall to the ground. Then those male woodcocks plummet to the ground after their songs and land on the same patch of bare ground, or another one, and start their courtship display again. That continues time after time, evening after evening until hunger or females ready to mate interrupt.
Some people make evening trips to known woodcock display areas to see and hear the lusty males in action. Just go to a woodcock habitat at sunset and wait for those long-billed hermits to come out of the woods soon after sunset. They can be briefly seen as silhouettes against the fading light of the western sky before they drop to the ground.
Many times during April evenings when robins are singing, amphibians are calling and woodcocks are wooing, flocks of clamoring, resident Canada geese swiftly fly over on their way to feeding fields or a human-made impoundment where they will rest and socialize between feeding forays. The loud, musical honking of the geese is wild and exciting in itself, and part of the wild, inspiring natural sounds of April evenings in Lancaster County.
The natural sounds of April evenings are stirring to many human souls and imaginations. And they are enjoyable and thrilling to hear as well. They are some of the many calls of the wild.
Male American robins and white-throated sparrows sing from thickets in hedgerows, woodland edges and maturing suburban areas, with their many trees and shrubs. The robins will stay where they are singing to raise young through the rest of spring well into summer. But the white-throats will migrate farther north to their nesting territories.
Robins' songs are loud and cheery and are heard mostly at dawn and dusk, but anytime through the day as well. White-throats' whistled songs, uttered mostly in the evenings, are gentle and inspiring, and consist of two long notes, followed by four shorter notes, all on the same pitch.
Late in April, we hear the flute-like notes of wood thrushes singing in the woods and the piping, cheery songs of gray catbirds from shrubbery in hedgerows, woodland edges and suburban areas. These birds have just come north to raise young and will continue to sing during most every dusk through May, June and most of July.
Male spring peepers, which are a type of tree frog, pickerel frogs and American toads peep, snore and trill respectively in local, woodsy wetlands during April evenings and into the nights, and on rainy days. These three types of tailless amphibians create ancient concerts of their own, or together in unison. Their timeless, wild calling, which can be heard by us humans a few hundred yards away, brings the females of each species to the males in shallow water for spawning of eggs, in gelatin masses from the frogs, and in jelly strings stuck to vegetation from the toads.
Some people go out of their way during April evenings to hear the primitive, beautiful calling of these frogs and toads. To them, those amphibian sounds are inspiring, and another sign that spring has truly arrived.
Male American woodcocks court from the same wooded bottomlands where the frogs and toads call and spawn, and at the same time. However, the woodcocks, being warm-blooded, start their displays during March evenings.
Woodcocks, a kind of inland sandpiper, live and hatch young in low, successional woodlands throughout most of the eastern United States. They poke their long beaks into the moist soil of bottomland woods to feed on earthworms and other invertebrates they pull out of the ground.
Courting male woodcocks fly out of the woods soon after sunset and land on a spot of bare soil in a clearing near the woods. There they stand with their long bills on their chests and vocally, repeatedly "beep" for about a minute. Then they take off in upward, spiral flight, their wings twittering rhythmically, until they are almost out of sight. Then they vocally sing, the lovely notes seeming to fall to the ground. Then those male woodcocks plummet to the ground after their songs and land on the same patch of bare ground, or another one, and start their courtship display again. That continues time after time, evening after evening until hunger or females ready to mate interrupt.
Some people make evening trips to known woodcock display areas to see and hear the lusty males in action. Just go to a woodcock habitat at sunset and wait for those long-billed hermits to come out of the woods soon after sunset. They can be briefly seen as silhouettes against the fading light of the western sky before they drop to the ground.
Many times during April evenings when robins are singing, amphibians are calling and woodcocks are wooing, flocks of clamoring, resident Canada geese swiftly fly over on their way to feeding fields or a human-made impoundment where they will rest and socialize between feeding forays. The loud, musical honking of the geese is wild and exciting in itself, and part of the wild, inspiring natural sounds of April evenings in Lancaster County.
The natural sounds of April evenings are stirring to many human souls and imaginations. And they are enjoyable and thrilling to hear as well. They are some of the many calls of the wild.
Pasture Bogs in March and April
Shallow puddles and trickles of water among tussocks of grass in the low spots of short-grass cow pastures in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania farmland, as elsewhere, harbor more bird life in March and April than during any other time of the year, making them interesting. Permanent resident birds are always there, and wintering birds are still there, but now certain migrants are around those meadow pools as well.
Wilson's snipe, which is a type of inland sandpiper, and American pipits, a small, sparrow-sized bird, live around those percolating, running rivulets through winter and into spring. There they catch invertebrates from the mud along the moving water that doesn't freeze, the snipe in the mud and the pipits from the surface of that same mud. Both species are brown and streaked to blend into their surroundings, making them invisible until they move or fly. Snipe have long beaks for poking under the mud for food, while pipits have short, thin ones for snaring food on top of mud. The pipits pump their tails a bit as they walk along looking for food.
Mallard ducks and Canada geese are also in boggy spots of meadows in winter and early spring to feed on vegetation kept ice and snow-free by the water. The mallards consume aquatic vegetation mostly, while the geese graze on lush, tender grass. Some of those ducks and geese settle down to nesting by early March in or near those pastures and the ducklings and goslings hatch in the latter couple of weeks in April. Some of those newly-hatched broods return to boggy pastures to feed, the ducklings on invertebrates and the goslings on vegetation.
Red-winged blackbirds return to wet meadows in March, the males several days ahead of the females. Male red-wings are black all over with red shoulder patches. They stand on top of cattails, weed stems, twigs or other tall vegetation to sing their songs that sound like "kon-ga-ree" and feed on invertebrates among the grasses. Female red-wings come to those boggy pastures as cattails and reed canary-grass grow taller. They will eventually build grassy cradles among the stems of cattails or tall grass about half way up the stalks.
Killdeer plovers, which is a kind of inland shorebird, purple grackles and American robins also stalk invertebrates in wet meadows, including around the puddles of shallow water themselves. The killdeer will eventually hatch four young per pair on nearby gravel parking lots and plowed fields. Soon after the fuzzy, opened-eyed chicks hatch, their parents usher them around, including in wet pastures, to look for invertebrate food. The grackles and robins hatch young in grass and mud cradles in trees, the grackles mostly in conifers and the robins mostly in young deciduous ones.
Migrant pectoral and least sandpipers, and greater and lesser yellowlegs, are some of the sandpiper species that feed from low, watery spots in pastures during much of April before pushing farther north to their nesting grounds. Like most sandpipers, these species are camouflaged and poke their long beaks into mud to pull out a variety of invertebrates.
But snipe dominate those grassy springs and trickles in meadows through winter and into April each year, though most people never know they are there. Snipe are about the size of robins, but chunkier and with longer bills for probing into mud under shallow water for invertebrates. They wade in the shallow water, rapidly poking their beaks up and down like the needle of a sewing machine to seize worms, aquatic insects, snails and other tiny creatures.
Snipe migrate in April and form congregations of up to 60 or more individuals in some wet meadows, greatly increasing the populations of those that wintered there. But they usually are not seen until they fly over the pastures, and disappear again when they drop among the short grass, puddles and rivulets of pastures. Each snipe feeds almost constantly to gain fat reserves and strength for its annual spring trip north to rear offspring.
Then there comes a day in April when the snipe are gone, almost overnight. They rapidly move north on strong, swept-back wings to the northern border states, most of Canada and all of Alaska where they will hatch another generation of young.
Watch the wet spots of short-grass meadows in Lancaster County, and beyond, during winter and into spring to see the birds discussed above. They make those pastures, and farmland in general, more interesting.
Wilson's snipe, which is a type of inland sandpiper, and American pipits, a small, sparrow-sized bird, live around those percolating, running rivulets through winter and into spring. There they catch invertebrates from the mud along the moving water that doesn't freeze, the snipe in the mud and the pipits from the surface of that same mud. Both species are brown and streaked to blend into their surroundings, making them invisible until they move or fly. Snipe have long beaks for poking under the mud for food, while pipits have short, thin ones for snaring food on top of mud. The pipits pump their tails a bit as they walk along looking for food.
Mallard ducks and Canada geese are also in boggy spots of meadows in winter and early spring to feed on vegetation kept ice and snow-free by the water. The mallards consume aquatic vegetation mostly, while the geese graze on lush, tender grass. Some of those ducks and geese settle down to nesting by early March in or near those pastures and the ducklings and goslings hatch in the latter couple of weeks in April. Some of those newly-hatched broods return to boggy pastures to feed, the ducklings on invertebrates and the goslings on vegetation.
Red-winged blackbirds return to wet meadows in March, the males several days ahead of the females. Male red-wings are black all over with red shoulder patches. They stand on top of cattails, weed stems, twigs or other tall vegetation to sing their songs that sound like "kon-ga-ree" and feed on invertebrates among the grasses. Female red-wings come to those boggy pastures as cattails and reed canary-grass grow taller. They will eventually build grassy cradles among the stems of cattails or tall grass about half way up the stalks.
Killdeer plovers, which is a kind of inland shorebird, purple grackles and American robins also stalk invertebrates in wet meadows, including around the puddles of shallow water themselves. The killdeer will eventually hatch four young per pair on nearby gravel parking lots and plowed fields. Soon after the fuzzy, opened-eyed chicks hatch, their parents usher them around, including in wet pastures, to look for invertebrate food. The grackles and robins hatch young in grass and mud cradles in trees, the grackles mostly in conifers and the robins mostly in young deciduous ones.
Migrant pectoral and least sandpipers, and greater and lesser yellowlegs, are some of the sandpiper species that feed from low, watery spots in pastures during much of April before pushing farther north to their nesting grounds. Like most sandpipers, these species are camouflaged and poke their long beaks into mud to pull out a variety of invertebrates.
But snipe dominate those grassy springs and trickles in meadows through winter and into April each year, though most people never know they are there. Snipe are about the size of robins, but chunkier and with longer bills for probing into mud under shallow water for invertebrates. They wade in the shallow water, rapidly poking their beaks up and down like the needle of a sewing machine to seize worms, aquatic insects, snails and other tiny creatures.
Snipe migrate in April and form congregations of up to 60 or more individuals in some wet meadows, greatly increasing the populations of those that wintered there. But they usually are not seen until they fly over the pastures, and disappear again when they drop among the short grass, puddles and rivulets of pastures. Each snipe feeds almost constantly to gain fat reserves and strength for its annual spring trip north to rear offspring.
Then there comes a day in April when the snipe are gone, almost overnight. They rapidly move north on strong, swept-back wings to the northern border states, most of Canada and all of Alaska where they will hatch another generation of young.
Watch the wet spots of short-grass meadows in Lancaster County, and beyond, during winter and into spring to see the birds discussed above. They make those pastures, and farmland in general, more interesting.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Beautiful Bird Songs
Long ago on a sixth grade field trip to Valley Forge, I stepped off the bus and heard a couple of pretty bird songs that started with a few notes, followed by an ascending trill, in a nearby field of tall weeds and scattered sapling trees. Having seen a pair of eastern bluebirds in a similar field near home, I thought those beautiful songs were emitted by male bluebirds. Later, when I knew bird songs better, I realized those songs I heard at Valley Forge were from male field sparrows.
Males of several kinds of attractive small birds in southeastern Pennsylvania, as elsewhere, sing lovely songs in summer, including eastern bluebirds, field sparrows and indigo buntings. Their delightful songs are part of their courting a mate and defending a nesting territory during summer in the thickets of hedgerows, overgrown pastures and woodland edges. Male bluebirds are sky-blue on top with rufous chests and white bellies, while females are gray on top with blue wings and tails. Field sparrows are brown all over with darker markings for camouflage. And male indigos are dark-blue all over while their mates are brown to blend into their surroundings, Bluebird songs are short series of a few gentle, bubbly notes in each. As stated, each field sparrow song is composed of a few introductory notes, followed by a sweet trill. Indigo songs are delightful ditties of twice-repeated notes. Male indigos sing much of each summer day, including hot mid-afternoons and at sunset and into the dusk.
Wood thrushes, which are related to American robins, and wood pewees, a kind of flycatcher, are woodland species in the eastern United States in summer. They sing beautiful, melancholy songs off and on all day that warms many a human heart. But their music seems especially lovely when heard at dusk. The thrushes' songs are flute-like and seem to say "a-o-lee" or "e-o-lay". Pewee songs are a gentle, often repeated "pee-a-wee" followed by a downward slurring "peeee-urrr".
Wood thrushes and pewees sing from lower twigs on younger trees where they are sometimes visible to us. Wood thrushes are warm-brown on top and white below with dark spots, camouflage on woodland floors. Pewees are dusky-gray all over to blend into the shadows of woodlands.
Eastern meadowlarks are not common in southeastern Pennsylvania because they nest in tall-grass meadows and fields, of which there are few in this area. Meadowlarks are brown above with darker streaking for camouflage and yellow below with a dark V on their chest. The males' magical songs are whistled gently and repeatedly "three-up, three-down", with notes that do run up, then down, the musical scale.
White-throated sparrows sing the prettiest of songs in winter in this area. These sparrows nest farther north, but winter in thickets here, including in older suburban areas, throughout much of the United States. When entering shrubbery each dusk in winter to spend the night, all the birds in white-throat flocks chip, and males whistle several series of two long, sweet notes in each one, followed by four short ones, all on the same pleasant pitch. Finally as dusk settles, the birds are silent.
These are some of the small bird species that sing the most lovely of songs. Get out at any time of year, but especially in spring and summer, to listen to the many beautiful bird songs in this area.
Males of several kinds of attractive small birds in southeastern Pennsylvania, as elsewhere, sing lovely songs in summer, including eastern bluebirds, field sparrows and indigo buntings. Their delightful songs are part of their courting a mate and defending a nesting territory during summer in the thickets of hedgerows, overgrown pastures and woodland edges. Male bluebirds are sky-blue on top with rufous chests and white bellies, while females are gray on top with blue wings and tails. Field sparrows are brown all over with darker markings for camouflage. And male indigos are dark-blue all over while their mates are brown to blend into their surroundings, Bluebird songs are short series of a few gentle, bubbly notes in each. As stated, each field sparrow song is composed of a few introductory notes, followed by a sweet trill. Indigo songs are delightful ditties of twice-repeated notes. Male indigos sing much of each summer day, including hot mid-afternoons and at sunset and into the dusk.
Wood thrushes, which are related to American robins, and wood pewees, a kind of flycatcher, are woodland species in the eastern United States in summer. They sing beautiful, melancholy songs off and on all day that warms many a human heart. But their music seems especially lovely when heard at dusk. The thrushes' songs are flute-like and seem to say "a-o-lee" or "e-o-lay". Pewee songs are a gentle, often repeated "pee-a-wee" followed by a downward slurring "peeee-urrr".
Wood thrushes and pewees sing from lower twigs on younger trees where they are sometimes visible to us. Wood thrushes are warm-brown on top and white below with dark spots, camouflage on woodland floors. Pewees are dusky-gray all over to blend into the shadows of woodlands.
Eastern meadowlarks are not common in southeastern Pennsylvania because they nest in tall-grass meadows and fields, of which there are few in this area. Meadowlarks are brown above with darker streaking for camouflage and yellow below with a dark V on their chest. The males' magical songs are whistled gently and repeatedly "three-up, three-down", with notes that do run up, then down, the musical scale.
White-throated sparrows sing the prettiest of songs in winter in this area. These sparrows nest farther north, but winter in thickets here, including in older suburban areas, throughout much of the United States. When entering shrubbery each dusk in winter to spend the night, all the birds in white-throat flocks chip, and males whistle several series of two long, sweet notes in each one, followed by four short ones, all on the same pleasant pitch. Finally as dusk settles, the birds are silent.
These are some of the small bird species that sing the most lovely of songs. Get out at any time of year, but especially in spring and summer, to listen to the many beautiful bird songs in this area.
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Pintail Courtships
Pintail ducks nest around ponds and marshes in grassy habitats in much of North America, mostly in the west and mid-west, northern Europe and northern Asia. They winter south to Central America, central Africa, India and southeastern Asia. A few of them winter here in the Middle Atlantic States and migrate north and west through this same area early in March.
Pintails feed on aquatic seeds and other vegetation in winter and invertebrates and some plant material in summer. Sometimes they join geese and other kinds of puddle ducks in feeding on grain and vegetation in fields.
Pintails are long and slender in body form, all the better for swift flight. Females are light-brown with darker markings to blend into their habitat of grasses and reeds while their handsome mates have chocolate heads and necks, white throats and chests and gray wings and backs. Drake pintails also have two long,black feathers on their tails that give the species its name.
But their courtship flights are the most interesting part of pintail ducks' life cycle. In February and March, pintails push north and west with hordes of snow geese, Canada geese and tundra swans. But because the geese and swans are larger birds than the ducks and migrate in much greater numbers, the pintails usually are overlooked by most people. But if one watches closely, small groups of drake pintails, often five, six or more of them in a nuptial group, will be noted gathering around a female of their kind to display their charms. Each male repeatedly bows, then flicks his rear up, accompanied by a short, vocal whistle. After several bows and whistling, the hen and her suitors take off in swift flight, around and around, over the water and surrounding fields. The female twists and turns, banking one way, then the other, seemingly to shake the males off. But the drakes try to persist and the one that can keep up with her becomes the mate of her choice. Finally the couple comes down to rest on the water. The other males drop to the water, too, but must court other females until they each earn a mate by staying with her in flight.
Many of these pintail courtship displays take place every day in late winter and into early spring and are interesting to see. Though they only last a couple of weeks here and are over-shadowed by the vast flocks of big, noisy geese and swans, those pintail displays add a bit more zest to the migrations of waterfowl through the Middle Atlantic States, as elsewhere. They are well worth the time and effort involved in finally seeing those displays after searching in the right places at the right time.
Pintails feed on aquatic seeds and other vegetation in winter and invertebrates and some plant material in summer. Sometimes they join geese and other kinds of puddle ducks in feeding on grain and vegetation in fields.
Pintails are long and slender in body form, all the better for swift flight. Females are light-brown with darker markings to blend into their habitat of grasses and reeds while their handsome mates have chocolate heads and necks, white throats and chests and gray wings and backs. Drake pintails also have two long,black feathers on their tails that give the species its name.
But their courtship flights are the most interesting part of pintail ducks' life cycle. In February and March, pintails push north and west with hordes of snow geese, Canada geese and tundra swans. But because the geese and swans are larger birds than the ducks and migrate in much greater numbers, the pintails usually are overlooked by most people. But if one watches closely, small groups of drake pintails, often five, six or more of them in a nuptial group, will be noted gathering around a female of their kind to display their charms. Each male repeatedly bows, then flicks his rear up, accompanied by a short, vocal whistle. After several bows and whistling, the hen and her suitors take off in swift flight, around and around, over the water and surrounding fields. The female twists and turns, banking one way, then the other, seemingly to shake the males off. But the drakes try to persist and the one that can keep up with her becomes the mate of her choice. Finally the couple comes down to rest on the water. The other males drop to the water, too, but must court other females until they each earn a mate by staying with her in flight.
Many of these pintail courtship displays take place every day in late winter and into early spring and are interesting to see. Though they only last a couple of weeks here and are over-shadowed by the vast flocks of big, noisy geese and swans, those pintail displays add a bit more zest to the migrations of waterfowl through the Middle Atlantic States, as elsewhere. They are well worth the time and effort involved in finally seeing those displays after searching in the right places at the right time.
Graceful Geese and Swans
Each species of life on Earth is well adapted to its habitat for survival. We can see how it fits perfectly into its niche. Flying birds are efficient and graceful on the wing. And of all the birds I see flying in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, the large and related Canada geese and tundra swans are the most stately, thrilling birders and non-birders alike. Both those species of birds power swiftly and noisily across the sky in large V's and long lines, then set their out-stretched wings to swirl majestically into the wind and elegantly parachute down, group after group, like a feathered waterfall, with never a collision among their fellows, to fields to eat waste corn kernels and the green blades of winter rye, or to built impoundments to rest, preen their feathers and socialize. And just before landing on the ground or water, the geese and swans extend their legs and back pedal their powerful wings magnificently for a gentle landing. They are so wonderfully built for what they do that we have to believe they were created by a divine creator, as all life is. Life on Earth is better than a wonderful work of art.
Interestingly, I sometimes see Canada geese and tundra swans mixed together in the same stately, inspiring V's and lines pushing quickly across the sky, often just above the tree tops. Individuals of both species are about the same size and shape, land on the same impoundments and feed in the same fields. No wonder, then, they sometimes travel together to feeding fields and human-made lakes.
Many of the Canada geese and all the tundra swans are migrants here in Lancaster County from about the middle of February to mid-March. Those migrants will nest in Canada, the swans on the tundra along the Arctic Ocean. Some of the Canadas, however, hatched in the local area and will raise young here as well. But all individuals of both species are magnificent on the ground and water, and particularly in the air. They are beauty and majesty beyond belief, perfectly adapted for flight. All of nature is beautifully designed by an all-powerful creator.
Interestingly, I sometimes see Canada geese and tundra swans mixed together in the same stately, inspiring V's and lines pushing quickly across the sky, often just above the tree tops. Individuals of both species are about the same size and shape, land on the same impoundments and feed in the same fields. No wonder, then, they sometimes travel together to feeding fields and human-made lakes.
Many of the Canada geese and all the tundra swans are migrants here in Lancaster County from about the middle of February to mid-March. Those migrants will nest in Canada, the swans on the tundra along the Arctic Ocean. Some of the Canadas, however, hatched in the local area and will raise young here as well. But all individuals of both species are magnificent on the ground and water, and particularly in the air. They are beauty and majesty beyond belief, perfectly adapted for flight. All of nature is beautifully designed by an all-powerful creator.
Thursday, March 19, 2015
More Subtle March Migrants
Though we are often overwhelmed by the hordes of geese, swans, gulls, blackbirds and robins that come into Lancaster County, Pennsylvania in March, there are some other, more subtle, migrants here at that time as well, including mourning doves, wood ducks, killdeer plovers, eastern bluebirds, tree swallows, American kestrels, eastern phoebes and Louisiana waterthrushes. These birds all come into this county during March, as elsewhere in northeastern North America, to raise young. A few doves, killdeer, bluebirds and kestrels are in Lancaster County through winter, but their numbers become increased in places where they didn't exist all winter by incoming migrants of each species. All these subtle migrants are adapted to human-made lawns, fields, impoundments and buildings, depending upon the species, for at least part of their life cycles, which increases their numbers and adds to our enjoyment of local wildlife. And all these kinds of incoming birds help make March an interesting month in this area.
Mourning doves are one of the first species to come back to Lancaster County, as elsewhere, to nest, mostly in coniferous trees on lawns. We hear the males' cooing and see their courtship flights of deep wing flapping, then soaring in a circle while banking one way and then the other. Each pair of doves produces two young a month, every month from April to September. They do that by staggering their broods of two young each. When the first brood of young are half-grown, the female lays two eggs in another nest that hatch when the first chicks fledge and are on their own. One mate of each dove pair sets on the younger eggs while the other mate feeds the young a mixture of mucus from their throats and pre-digested weed seeds and grain from nearby fields. Twice a day the adults switch roles in caring for their young.
Wood duck females hatch clutches of about 12 ducklings in a tree hollow near a waterway or built impoundment, or boxes erected especially for them. Woodies raise young these days in their traditional woodland habitats or in riparian woods along waterways in farmland. Hen woodies take their youngsters to water to feed on aquatic invertebrates that are packed with protein for growth.
Killdeer plovers are a kind of inland shorebird. Most shorebirds are adapted to open habitats of short grass, mud, or sand along shores. Killdeer prefer living and nesting in short-grass pastures, recently plowed fields of bare soil, or gravel driveways, parking lots, railroad beds and flat roofs. They and horned larks are the only two kinds of local birds that do that.
Killdeer lay their four eggs (all shorebirds lay four eggs) on the bare soil of fields or on gravel. The young hatch fuzzy, open-eyed, and ready to run and feed themselves, all of which are good traits to have when hatching on the ground. Young and adult killdeer eat invertebrates.
Eastern bluebirds probably are more common today than ever in their history. They have adapted to hedgerows, overgrown fields and meadows, and bird boxes erected especially for them. All those habitats were created by people. The beautiful bluebirds feed on a variety of invertebrates.
Tree swallows, like bluebirds, nest in tree cavities and bird houses, but in open areas near bodies of water, including human-made lakes and ponds. The first of the swallow species to arrive here, always sometime in March, pairs of them quickly look for nesting hollows. Sometimes a group of tree swallows will gang up on a pair of bluebirds to take over the latter's nesting site. The bluebirds try to keep their nesting place, but usually lose to the persistent, aggressive swallow gang.
American kestrels, which are a kind of falcon related to peregrines, also rear offspring in tree cavities, in open cropland. These little hawks prey on mice, small birds and grasshoppers, for the most part. They are valuable to farmers by keeping the numbers of mice and insects down.
Eastern phoebes are a kind of flycatcher that arrives here in March and feeds on flying insects in the warmer mini-climates of sheltering woodlands where insects can become active. Males sing a simple, repetitive song that sounds like "Phoebe".
Phoebes traditionally nest on rock ledges under overhanging boulders near water in woods. But they have adapted to building cradles of mud and moss on building and bridge supports in the woods and thin, riparian woodlands along waterways as well.
Louisiana waterthrushes, a kind of warbler that winters in Central and South America, arrive along woodland streams here late in March. Males of this species have loud songs so they can be heard above the music of the tumbling streams. Waterthrushes dance along the edges of the waterways to search for invertebrates under the pebbles. The dance is a type camouflage, which mimics the bouncing of bits of bark and other debris in the current along the edges of the water.
Waterthrushes build dead-leaf cradles in a niche in a stream bank behind the projecting roots of trees. There the camouflaged young are relatively safe from predation.
These are some of the more interesting birds that arrive here in March to raise young. Though their migrations into this area are not spectacular like those of snow geese and blackbirds, these pretty birds are well worth watching for in that first month of spring.
Mourning doves are one of the first species to come back to Lancaster County, as elsewhere, to nest, mostly in coniferous trees on lawns. We hear the males' cooing and see their courtship flights of deep wing flapping, then soaring in a circle while banking one way and then the other. Each pair of doves produces two young a month, every month from April to September. They do that by staggering their broods of two young each. When the first brood of young are half-grown, the female lays two eggs in another nest that hatch when the first chicks fledge and are on their own. One mate of each dove pair sets on the younger eggs while the other mate feeds the young a mixture of mucus from their throats and pre-digested weed seeds and grain from nearby fields. Twice a day the adults switch roles in caring for their young.
Wood duck females hatch clutches of about 12 ducklings in a tree hollow near a waterway or built impoundment, or boxes erected especially for them. Woodies raise young these days in their traditional woodland habitats or in riparian woods along waterways in farmland. Hen woodies take their youngsters to water to feed on aquatic invertebrates that are packed with protein for growth.
Killdeer plovers are a kind of inland shorebird. Most shorebirds are adapted to open habitats of short grass, mud, or sand along shores. Killdeer prefer living and nesting in short-grass pastures, recently plowed fields of bare soil, or gravel driveways, parking lots, railroad beds and flat roofs. They and horned larks are the only two kinds of local birds that do that.
Killdeer lay their four eggs (all shorebirds lay four eggs) on the bare soil of fields or on gravel. The young hatch fuzzy, open-eyed, and ready to run and feed themselves, all of which are good traits to have when hatching on the ground. Young and adult killdeer eat invertebrates.
Eastern bluebirds probably are more common today than ever in their history. They have adapted to hedgerows, overgrown fields and meadows, and bird boxes erected especially for them. All those habitats were created by people. The beautiful bluebirds feed on a variety of invertebrates.
Tree swallows, like bluebirds, nest in tree cavities and bird houses, but in open areas near bodies of water, including human-made lakes and ponds. The first of the swallow species to arrive here, always sometime in March, pairs of them quickly look for nesting hollows. Sometimes a group of tree swallows will gang up on a pair of bluebirds to take over the latter's nesting site. The bluebirds try to keep their nesting place, but usually lose to the persistent, aggressive swallow gang.
American kestrels, which are a kind of falcon related to peregrines, also rear offspring in tree cavities, in open cropland. These little hawks prey on mice, small birds and grasshoppers, for the most part. They are valuable to farmers by keeping the numbers of mice and insects down.
Eastern phoebes are a kind of flycatcher that arrives here in March and feeds on flying insects in the warmer mini-climates of sheltering woodlands where insects can become active. Males sing a simple, repetitive song that sounds like "Phoebe".
Phoebes traditionally nest on rock ledges under overhanging boulders near water in woods. But they have adapted to building cradles of mud and moss on building and bridge supports in the woods and thin, riparian woodlands along waterways as well.
Louisiana waterthrushes, a kind of warbler that winters in Central and South America, arrive along woodland streams here late in March. Males of this species have loud songs so they can be heard above the music of the tumbling streams. Waterthrushes dance along the edges of the waterways to search for invertebrates under the pebbles. The dance is a type camouflage, which mimics the bouncing of bits of bark and other debris in the current along the edges of the water.
Waterthrushes build dead-leaf cradles in a niche in a stream bank behind the projecting roots of trees. There the camouflaged young are relatively safe from predation.
These are some of the more interesting birds that arrive here in March to raise young. Though their migrations into this area are not spectacular like those of snow geese and blackbirds, these pretty birds are well worth watching for in that first month of spring.
Monday, March 16, 2015
At some time every March in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, the farmland here swarms with migrant ducks, geese, swans, grackles, robins and gulls, making this month an exciting time of year, every year. March 16, 2015 was one of those March days when those kinds of birds seemed to be everywhere in good numbers.
On March 16th, I was driving through farmland between the Lititz Pike and Oregon Pike a couple miles east of Neffsville. All the fields and pastures were soggy and some were even flooded in the lower spots as a result of recently melting snow, and rain. And I noticed there were a lot of Canada geese and purple grackles, seemingly almost everywhere in the soggy, puddled fields. I thought this was a good time to continue driving around and experience those migrant birds while they were still here. With the warm weather we have had in recent days, I figured those birds wouldn't be here much longer.
I drove up to a large flock of beautiful Canada geese in a series of corn and alfalfa fields and checked through that gathering with binoculars to pick out waterfowl other than Canadas that might be there. Sure enough, I spotted a few pairs each of mallards, American wigeons and pintails feeding on the same vegetation that the geese were. Those kinds of ducks usually travel in companies of their own kind, but, sometimes, some individual ducks of each type join goose gatherings for safety in numbers. Anyway, those ducks help make the Canada goose hordes more interesting to experience.
As I searched among the geese for ducks, a large congregation of snow geese flew over the fields and the Canadas, but they didn't land anywhere nearby. Early in spring snow geese often form hordes of tens of thousands that put down in fields to feed on vegetation before moving on to other feeding fields, and others until they finally push north to their nesting territories on the Arctic tundra.
And while I watched the Canadas for duck species among the geese, I saw group after group of tundra swans putting down about a half mile away, behind a hill. When I finished observing the geese and ducks before me, I set off by car to find the swans. Along the way I saw large flocks of purple grackles in the air and on the fields where they were looking for invertebrates to eat. There were scatterings of American robins on some fields and meadows where they were searching for earthworms and other types of invertebrates.
After a few minutes of winding along country roads, I saw the swans on and around a large pool in the middle of an extensive field. I couldn't get closer to the swans than a few hundred yards, but with my 16 power binoculars, I could see them quite well, and a handful each of Canada geese, ring-billed gulls and some kind of ducks on the water.
The whole time of was there, I watched group after group of swans parachuting majestically and gracefully to that temporary pond in the field. What an inspiring sight! The gatherings of descending swans varied from 7 to a few score of birds. By the time I left the swans, there must have been well over a thousand of them on that one soggy field. And I must say that tundra swans are the most magnificent of all waterfowl. As I watched those stately swans circling down to the water and field, I noticed several ducks take off from the melt water. Those ducks were fast, streamlined and some of them had long tail feathers. They were pintails that were on the water amid the swans. Those ducks circled the flooded field a few times and descended again at breakneck speed to a landing on the water.
All those birds, the geese, swans, ducks, gulls, grackles and robins, have adapted to getting food on farmland and resting on human-made impoundments, especially at this time of year when they are passing through on migration north or west. Many other kinds of life are also adaptable and we humans must give that life a chance to prove it.
While watching all these different species of migrant and inspiring birds in my home area that is almost totally devoted to the needs of people, I thought this area is as full of life the year around as most any other spot on Earth. And I think my home area is better than wildernesses to experience how life adapts to what we do as a species. I've noticed some people in this area are letting their land become overgrown to some extent, or they're creating wetlands or attractive landscaping that feeds and shelters wildlife, or erecting bird boxes, all of which benefits wildlife, which quickly move into those human-made habitats. I must confess I appreciate people more when some of them give the rest of life a chance to develop on this planet. It's not hard to benefit adaptable wildlife; just stop manicuring everything.
March 16, 2015 was quite a migrant wildlife day for me in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Any day of the year for the rest of my life and for the rest of the life of each reader could be filled with natural beauties and intrigues. We just need to get out anytime, anywhere to experience it. It's all around us.
On March 16th, I was driving through farmland between the Lititz Pike and Oregon Pike a couple miles east of Neffsville. All the fields and pastures were soggy and some were even flooded in the lower spots as a result of recently melting snow, and rain. And I noticed there were a lot of Canada geese and purple grackles, seemingly almost everywhere in the soggy, puddled fields. I thought this was a good time to continue driving around and experience those migrant birds while they were still here. With the warm weather we have had in recent days, I figured those birds wouldn't be here much longer.
I drove up to a large flock of beautiful Canada geese in a series of corn and alfalfa fields and checked through that gathering with binoculars to pick out waterfowl other than Canadas that might be there. Sure enough, I spotted a few pairs each of mallards, American wigeons and pintails feeding on the same vegetation that the geese were. Those kinds of ducks usually travel in companies of their own kind, but, sometimes, some individual ducks of each type join goose gatherings for safety in numbers. Anyway, those ducks help make the Canada goose hordes more interesting to experience.
As I searched among the geese for ducks, a large congregation of snow geese flew over the fields and the Canadas, but they didn't land anywhere nearby. Early in spring snow geese often form hordes of tens of thousands that put down in fields to feed on vegetation before moving on to other feeding fields, and others until they finally push north to their nesting territories on the Arctic tundra.
And while I watched the Canadas for duck species among the geese, I saw group after group of tundra swans putting down about a half mile away, behind a hill. When I finished observing the geese and ducks before me, I set off by car to find the swans. Along the way I saw large flocks of purple grackles in the air and on the fields where they were looking for invertebrates to eat. There were scatterings of American robins on some fields and meadows where they were searching for earthworms and other types of invertebrates.
After a few minutes of winding along country roads, I saw the swans on and around a large pool in the middle of an extensive field. I couldn't get closer to the swans than a few hundred yards, but with my 16 power binoculars, I could see them quite well, and a handful each of Canada geese, ring-billed gulls and some kind of ducks on the water.
The whole time of was there, I watched group after group of swans parachuting majestically and gracefully to that temporary pond in the field. What an inspiring sight! The gatherings of descending swans varied from 7 to a few score of birds. By the time I left the swans, there must have been well over a thousand of them on that one soggy field. And I must say that tundra swans are the most magnificent of all waterfowl. As I watched those stately swans circling down to the water and field, I noticed several ducks take off from the melt water. Those ducks were fast, streamlined and some of them had long tail feathers. They were pintails that were on the water amid the swans. Those ducks circled the flooded field a few times and descended again at breakneck speed to a landing on the water.
All those birds, the geese, swans, ducks, gulls, grackles and robins, have adapted to getting food on farmland and resting on human-made impoundments, especially at this time of year when they are passing through on migration north or west. Many other kinds of life are also adaptable and we humans must give that life a chance to prove it.
While watching all these different species of migrant and inspiring birds in my home area that is almost totally devoted to the needs of people, I thought this area is as full of life the year around as most any other spot on Earth. And I think my home area is better than wildernesses to experience how life adapts to what we do as a species. I've noticed some people in this area are letting their land become overgrown to some extent, or they're creating wetlands or attractive landscaping that feeds and shelters wildlife, or erecting bird boxes, all of which benefits wildlife, which quickly move into those human-made habitats. I must confess I appreciate people more when some of them give the rest of life a chance to develop on this planet. It's not hard to benefit adaptable wildlife; just stop manicuring everything.
March 16, 2015 was quite a migrant wildlife day for me in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Any day of the year for the rest of my life and for the rest of the life of each reader could be filled with natural beauties and intrigues. We just need to get out anytime, anywhere to experience it. It's all around us.
March Migrant Birds in a Partly-flooded Meadow
I've noted ducks and other kinds of migrant birds in a partly-flooded meadow along the sycamore tree-lined Cocalico Creek in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania every March in the last few years. Shallow pools of varying sizes form in that lowland meadow along the Cocalico because of a combination of melting snow and rainfall.
On March 16, 2015, however, I took special notice of that puddled pasture to spot whatever migrating birds stop there to rest and feed. There were several, including 63 black ducks that dominated the shallow pools of that meadow with their numbers and dark feathering: They really stood out. From a distance, they do look black. There were also about a dozen Canada geese there, plus several pairs of American wigeon ducks, three pairs of pintail ducks and a few pairs of mallard ducks, much the same species that gathered there in previous years. Maybe they were the same birds. The geese and the different kinds of ducks in that flooded meadow rest on water, and feed on vegetation in shallow water and in pastures and fields, and on corn kernels in corn fields that were harvested last fall. The geese and mallards may be local residents that will stay in this area to raise young, but the other kinds of ducks in that meadow will migrate farther west or north to rear offspring.
Interestingly, I saw a pair of wood ducks and a small group of male and female common mergansers on the Cocalico by the pasture I was watching. The woodies probably will stay in that area to hatch young in a hollow in one of the larger sycamore trees. And the hen and her ducklings will feed on vegetation and invertebrates respectively along the Cocalico through the summer.
The mergansers, however, will soon move on to their breeding grounds farther north and west. They were only passing through this area to their nesting territories, stopping here and there to catch small fish, which is their almost exclusive food.
And interestingly enough, a large, noisy flock of purple grackles landed in the trees along the Cocalico and then settled on the soggy ground of the pasture. There they searched for any kind of invertebrates they could grab and swallow.
And there was a smaller gathering of American robins running and stopping, running and stopping over the same meadow in their own quest for earthworms and other types of invertebrates. The grackles and robins, too, were migrants for the most part, although some of them may nest locally.
This was one of many partly flooded meadows and fields where migrant geese, ducks, grackles, robins and ring-billed gulls feed on vegetation and invertebrates, depending upon the species, before continuing the next lap of their journeys north or northwest during spring. These beautiful and interesting birds have adapted to those open, human-made habitats to get food, which increases their overall food supply, and makes those places more intriguing to us early in spring. Seeing migrant birds in situations like that partly inundated pasture helps make our lives more enjoyable and inspiring.
On March 16, 2015, however, I took special notice of that puddled pasture to spot whatever migrating birds stop there to rest and feed. There were several, including 63 black ducks that dominated the shallow pools of that meadow with their numbers and dark feathering: They really stood out. From a distance, they do look black. There were also about a dozen Canada geese there, plus several pairs of American wigeon ducks, three pairs of pintail ducks and a few pairs of mallard ducks, much the same species that gathered there in previous years. Maybe they were the same birds. The geese and the different kinds of ducks in that flooded meadow rest on water, and feed on vegetation in shallow water and in pastures and fields, and on corn kernels in corn fields that were harvested last fall. The geese and mallards may be local residents that will stay in this area to raise young, but the other kinds of ducks in that meadow will migrate farther west or north to rear offspring.
Interestingly, I saw a pair of wood ducks and a small group of male and female common mergansers on the Cocalico by the pasture I was watching. The woodies probably will stay in that area to hatch young in a hollow in one of the larger sycamore trees. And the hen and her ducklings will feed on vegetation and invertebrates respectively along the Cocalico through the summer.
The mergansers, however, will soon move on to their breeding grounds farther north and west. They were only passing through this area to their nesting territories, stopping here and there to catch small fish, which is their almost exclusive food.
And interestingly enough, a large, noisy flock of purple grackles landed in the trees along the Cocalico and then settled on the soggy ground of the pasture. There they searched for any kind of invertebrates they could grab and swallow.
And there was a smaller gathering of American robins running and stopping, running and stopping over the same meadow in their own quest for earthworms and other types of invertebrates. The grackles and robins, too, were migrants for the most part, although some of them may nest locally.
This was one of many partly flooded meadows and fields where migrant geese, ducks, grackles, robins and ring-billed gulls feed on vegetation and invertebrates, depending upon the species, before continuing the next lap of their journeys north or northwest during spring. These beautiful and interesting birds have adapted to those open, human-made habitats to get food, which increases their overall food supply, and makes those places more intriguing to us early in spring. Seeing migrant birds in situations like that partly inundated pasture helps make our lives more enjoyable and inspiring.
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Memorable Encounters in Nature
I have had several exceptionally memorable encounters in nature over the years. Following are just a few of those encounters.
On a snowy day several years ago, I walked about an hour in a woodland in northern Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. The woods were white and beautiful with fallen snow on every twig and on the ground. I didn't see many creatures, except a few chickadees and a downy woodpecker. But when I came to a slow-moving creek in the woods, I saw an odd, duck-like bird on the water. It was dark on top and white below. Looking at it with binoculars, I saw it was a horned grebe in winter plumage. And it had red eye irises.
The grebe floated alone on the creek in the white, wooded wonderland of peace and quiet. But it made that little trip to the woodland that snowy afternoon more exciting and, certainly, more memorable.
One early morning late in April, I stood in a large forest in northern Berks County, Pennsylvania. The deep woods were quiet, until, suddenly, the ethereal, flute-like songs of a hermit thrush rose beautifully, time after time, from the woodland. It was the only bird song I heard that moment in the woods, but those lovely notes alone justified that forest's existence for all time.
One afternoon in June I was reading a book in my living room. The window next to my chair was open and I could hear traffic, dogs barking and a few bird notes as I read. Suddenly, I was almost knocked out of my chair when I heard the unmistakable, lovely, flute-like songs of a wood thrush, "e-o-lay" "a-o-lee" so loudly that I thought the bird must be in the room. I slowly turned my head and looked out the window, and there was the thrush, singing in a bush a few feet outside the open window and only six feet from where I sat in my chair: What an experience. I sat still and quietly until the thrush finished his concert and flew away.
I was walking the dog on a sidewalk of our neighborhood one morning in May of another year. I noticed an opossum crossing the street with about six furry babies clinging to her back. The dog saw the mother, too, and wanted to attack her, but I held the dog back with her leash. The possum got across the street safely and crawled under a neighbor's bush to hide. The dog and I kept walking along and away from the opossum.
During a sunny, but windy, afternoon in October, 1988, I was standing on a hill looking over the Susquehanna River in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania when I saw what appeared to be a mated pair of adult bald eagles soaring together over the river and the wooded hills that contain it. That was at a time when few bald eagles were in this area, so the eagles were noteworthy in themselves. I couldn't be sure, of course, but it sure seemed like they were looking for something. For some time that pair of eagles circled the river again and again and skimmed along the trees of the river hills.
That winter and into early spring, it was noted in local newspapers that a pair of bald eagles had built a nest high in a tall tree along the river about where I saw that pair of bald eagles. Since then, several pairs of balds have been raising young along the Susquehanna. And I often wonder if that pair I saw back in 1988 was the start of bald eagles again nesting along the Susquehanna River in Lancaster County, and York County across the river.
One windy, overcast April evening at St. Michaels, Maryland, my wife and I drove out to the Chesapeake Bay. We arrived in a parking lot at a backwater of the bay in almost gale force winds. We saw only two species of birds by the bay that evening- barn swallows and a pair of ospreys on their nest. The barn swallows were struggling in the wind, presumably catching flying insects, or just being challenged by the wind. But the pair of ospreys hunkered low in their large, stick nest on a channel marker for all they were worth. They had no intention of flight in that strong wind and we marveled that they weren't blown out of their nursery. But they stuck to it and presumably weathered the storm intact. Sue and I marveled at the swallows and commiserated with the ospreys.
But the most unique and memorable nature experience I ever had was on a beach along the Atlantic Ocean in New Jersey in mid-winter. I was using a pair of binoculars and saw little flocks of sanderlings (a type of wintering sandpiper) running up and down the beach before and after wavelets sliding up and down the beach, a few purple sandpipers on the boulders of the jetties placed into the ocean to protect the beaches and a handful of harlequin ducks that repeatedly dove into the surf. The sanderlings and purple sandpipers were looking for tiny invertebrates to eat while the ducks were consuming blue mussels, crustaceans and other creatures on the sand at the bottom of the surf.
While scanning the beach and surf, I suddenly saw a pair of forward-facing eyes in the binoculars looking back at me. It was a harbor seal with large, dark eyes that had an intelligent look to them. The seal and I stared at each other for several seconds then that creature disappeared into the water, not to be seen again. Those eyes gave me a chill I will never forget because I knew I was looking into the face of intelligence.
Readers can have similar experiences with nature, given enough time. Just go outside, be alert for the possibilities and enjoy.
On a snowy day several years ago, I walked about an hour in a woodland in northern Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. The woods were white and beautiful with fallen snow on every twig and on the ground. I didn't see many creatures, except a few chickadees and a downy woodpecker. But when I came to a slow-moving creek in the woods, I saw an odd, duck-like bird on the water. It was dark on top and white below. Looking at it with binoculars, I saw it was a horned grebe in winter plumage. And it had red eye irises.
The grebe floated alone on the creek in the white, wooded wonderland of peace and quiet. But it made that little trip to the woodland that snowy afternoon more exciting and, certainly, more memorable.
One early morning late in April, I stood in a large forest in northern Berks County, Pennsylvania. The deep woods were quiet, until, suddenly, the ethereal, flute-like songs of a hermit thrush rose beautifully, time after time, from the woodland. It was the only bird song I heard that moment in the woods, but those lovely notes alone justified that forest's existence for all time.
One afternoon in June I was reading a book in my living room. The window next to my chair was open and I could hear traffic, dogs barking and a few bird notes as I read. Suddenly, I was almost knocked out of my chair when I heard the unmistakable, lovely, flute-like songs of a wood thrush, "e-o-lay" "a-o-lee" so loudly that I thought the bird must be in the room. I slowly turned my head and looked out the window, and there was the thrush, singing in a bush a few feet outside the open window and only six feet from where I sat in my chair: What an experience. I sat still and quietly until the thrush finished his concert and flew away.
I was walking the dog on a sidewalk of our neighborhood one morning in May of another year. I noticed an opossum crossing the street with about six furry babies clinging to her back. The dog saw the mother, too, and wanted to attack her, but I held the dog back with her leash. The possum got across the street safely and crawled under a neighbor's bush to hide. The dog and I kept walking along and away from the opossum.
During a sunny, but windy, afternoon in October, 1988, I was standing on a hill looking over the Susquehanna River in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania when I saw what appeared to be a mated pair of adult bald eagles soaring together over the river and the wooded hills that contain it. That was at a time when few bald eagles were in this area, so the eagles were noteworthy in themselves. I couldn't be sure, of course, but it sure seemed like they were looking for something. For some time that pair of eagles circled the river again and again and skimmed along the trees of the river hills.
That winter and into early spring, it was noted in local newspapers that a pair of bald eagles had built a nest high in a tall tree along the river about where I saw that pair of bald eagles. Since then, several pairs of balds have been raising young along the Susquehanna. And I often wonder if that pair I saw back in 1988 was the start of bald eagles again nesting along the Susquehanna River in Lancaster County, and York County across the river.
One windy, overcast April evening at St. Michaels, Maryland, my wife and I drove out to the Chesapeake Bay. We arrived in a parking lot at a backwater of the bay in almost gale force winds. We saw only two species of birds by the bay that evening- barn swallows and a pair of ospreys on their nest. The barn swallows were struggling in the wind, presumably catching flying insects, or just being challenged by the wind. But the pair of ospreys hunkered low in their large, stick nest on a channel marker for all they were worth. They had no intention of flight in that strong wind and we marveled that they weren't blown out of their nursery. But they stuck to it and presumably weathered the storm intact. Sue and I marveled at the swallows and commiserated with the ospreys.
But the most unique and memorable nature experience I ever had was on a beach along the Atlantic Ocean in New Jersey in mid-winter. I was using a pair of binoculars and saw little flocks of sanderlings (a type of wintering sandpiper) running up and down the beach before and after wavelets sliding up and down the beach, a few purple sandpipers on the boulders of the jetties placed into the ocean to protect the beaches and a handful of harlequin ducks that repeatedly dove into the surf. The sanderlings and purple sandpipers were looking for tiny invertebrates to eat while the ducks were consuming blue mussels, crustaceans and other creatures on the sand at the bottom of the surf.
While scanning the beach and surf, I suddenly saw a pair of forward-facing eyes in the binoculars looking back at me. It was a harbor seal with large, dark eyes that had an intelligent look to them. The seal and I stared at each other for several seconds then that creature disappeared into the water, not to be seen again. Those eyes gave me a chill I will never forget because I knew I was looking into the face of intelligence.
Readers can have similar experiences with nature, given enough time. Just go outside, be alert for the possibilities and enjoy.
Woodcock Wooing
To me, the courtship displays of male American woodcocks, and the peeping of male spring peeper tree frogs and the trilling of male American toads, are THEE icons of spring in southeastern Pennsylvania where I live. To hear them, usually in the same bottomland, overgrown habitats at the same times, is to know that spring has arrived. Those displays, peeping and trilling, mostly at dusk and into the night, bring the genders of three species together to start a new generation of their kinds. Soon after sunset every evening, except stormy ones, during March and April here in southeastern Pennsylvania, as in many wooded areas in the eastern United States, male American woodcocks present elaborate courtship displays to entice females of their kind to them to mate. To experience those intriguing displays, find an open area or an overgrown field bordering shrubby bottomland woods where you think woodcocks could be and stand facing the glowing western sky after sunset. If woodcocks are in the area, you will soon know it.
Each male woodcock exits his home on the dead-leaf, woodland floor and flies to a nearby open area with patches of bare soil in it. If he comes out of the woods before the sunset, he will resemble a giant bumblebee with a long nose. The famed naturalist and nature illustrator, Roger Tory Peterson, called woodcocks "long-nosed recluses" because they have lengthy beaks and live individually hidden away on forest floors.
Each male woodcock lands on a bare spot of soil in a clearing near his woodland home and begins vocally "beeping" about once every second for about a minute. Then he takes off in spiraling flight upward while his wings twitter rythmically until he is almost out of sight in the sky. As he flutters across the sky, he vocally utters several short series of musical notes that float down to earth, "tu tu tu, tu tu tu" and so on. Then he dives to the ground and lands on the same bare patch of soil, or another one, where he starts his performance again, and again as the sunset fades from the sky and he disappears from sight. At times he will be interrupted by hunger and females coming to him to mate. American woodcocks are inland sandpipers that have departed from the usual habits of their family. Instead of gathering in flocks on mudflats and coastal beaches like most sandpiper species do, woodcocks are individuals on forest floors inland. Their plumage takes on the colors and patterns of dead, fallen leaves of their habitat, allowing those birds to blend into their surroundings to the point of being invisible until they move. Woodcocks poke their long beaks into moist, soft soil to pull out earthworms and other invertebrates that they consume.
Almost all woodcocks go farther south for the winter and return north in March to reproduce themselves. Each hen, after mating, lays four eggs on the forest floor. All sandpiper species lay clutches of four eggs, and most species lay them on the ground, which demonstrates their descending from a common ancestor. And like all sandpiper chicks, woodcock chicks hatch with their eyes open, fully fuzzy and ready to leave their nests to feed themselves on a variety of invertebrates.
Woodcocks are interesting birds with intriguing courtship displays. Though they are seldom seen because of their beautifully camouflaged plumage, their courtship displays are well worth watching near their woodland homes.
Each male woodcock exits his home on the dead-leaf, woodland floor and flies to a nearby open area with patches of bare soil in it. If he comes out of the woods before the sunset, he will resemble a giant bumblebee with a long nose. The famed naturalist and nature illustrator, Roger Tory Peterson, called woodcocks "long-nosed recluses" because they have lengthy beaks and live individually hidden away on forest floors.
Each male woodcock lands on a bare spot of soil in a clearing near his woodland home and begins vocally "beeping" about once every second for about a minute. Then he takes off in spiraling flight upward while his wings twitter rythmically until he is almost out of sight in the sky. As he flutters across the sky, he vocally utters several short series of musical notes that float down to earth, "tu tu tu, tu tu tu" and so on. Then he dives to the ground and lands on the same bare patch of soil, or another one, where he starts his performance again, and again as the sunset fades from the sky and he disappears from sight. At times he will be interrupted by hunger and females coming to him to mate. American woodcocks are inland sandpipers that have departed from the usual habits of their family. Instead of gathering in flocks on mudflats and coastal beaches like most sandpiper species do, woodcocks are individuals on forest floors inland. Their plumage takes on the colors and patterns of dead, fallen leaves of their habitat, allowing those birds to blend into their surroundings to the point of being invisible until they move. Woodcocks poke their long beaks into moist, soft soil to pull out earthworms and other invertebrates that they consume.
Almost all woodcocks go farther south for the winter and return north in March to reproduce themselves. Each hen, after mating, lays four eggs on the forest floor. All sandpiper species lay clutches of four eggs, and most species lay them on the ground, which demonstrates their descending from a common ancestor. And like all sandpiper chicks, woodcock chicks hatch with their eyes open, fully fuzzy and ready to leave their nests to feed themselves on a variety of invertebrates.
Woodcocks are interesting birds with intriguing courtship displays. Though they are seldom seen because of their beautifully camouflaged plumage, their courtship displays are well worth watching near their woodland homes.
Friday, March 13, 2015
Feathered Floods
The latter part of February and the beginning of March is a favorite and exciting time of the year for me here in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. That is when there is an annual surge of bird migrations, bird songs, the blooming of early, hardy plants and other happenings in early spring. But because of unseasonably cold weather through all of February and the first week in March in 2015, early spring nature events were delayed a few weeks.
But the weather in Lancaster County finally warmed on March 7 and stayed warm for that time of the year until at least March 13th, the time of this writing. Migrant birds suddenly burst forth and poured into this area from March 10 through at least the 13th, like water from a newly-broken dam, creating living floods that arrived here, literally, overnight.
Spring didn't suddenly appear without warning, however. Daylight each succeeding evening had been getting noticeably longer since mid-January. And the sun continually got "higher" and hotter in the sky each day.
Spring floods made Lancaster County interesting from March 10 through the 13th in 2015. First was the flooding of water on fields and meadows and across roads from melting snow and rain that fell on March 10. Then floods of a few kinds of migrant birds, sensing the increased amount of daylight each day and the warming temperatures, suddenly poured into this area, starting on March 10, causing excitement among birders and non-birders alike. Those birds, as during every early spring in Lancaster County, but usually during the third week in February, are snow geese, tundra swans, ring-billed gulls, mixed flocks of purple grackles and red-winged blackbirds, and American robins. All those species stay in this county for a couple of weeks, or more, depending on the weather, before continuing their migrations, or spreading out and settling into local nesting areas, depending on the species. And all these adaptable species make use of human-made fields, impoundments and lawns, which benefits them and us.
Twice a day migrant snow geese and tundra swans join resident Canada geese on fields where they all feed on waste corn kernels from last autumn's harvests and the green blades of winter rye. When full, flocks of snows, Canadas and swans fly noisily to human-made impoundments to rest, digest, preen their feathers and socialize until hungry again.
Snow geese usually travel in great, clamorous hordes that resemble waves sliding across the sky like water up a beach, or a blizzard of giant snow flakes dropping to a field or a lake. Some snow goose blizzards are so large and thick with birds that the background is completely blocked from view. Sometimes those geese are so numerous on a field that, from a distance, it looks like snow fell only on that one field.
Tundra swans also travel about in flocks, but ones not nearly as numerous with birds as the snows. The swans move from place to place in V's or long lines of scores of birds, many of which are calling "woo" or "woo-hoo" at once. The swans have white feathering all over, while the snow geese are smaller than the swans, and have white plumages, but with black wing tips. Some snow geese have dusky bodies with white necks and heads. They are the same species as the white snow geese, but are called blue geese.
In March, April and May, snow geese and tundra swans hop, skip and jump north through Canada and arrive on the Arctic tundra to nest by mid-May. After a couple of weeks in Lancaster County I get weary of their presence. Their large hordes that can be seen, or heard, most anywhere at anytime, day or night, get hard on my nerves. But they were spectacular on migration, creating inspiring, natural shows, including when resting and feeding, and particularly when flying from place to place here in Lancaster County.
Much smaller groups of mallards, black ducks, pintail ducks, American wigeons and green-winged teal join the geese and swans in the fields and on the lakes and ponds. Most of these duck species feed on waste corn kernels, but wigeons mostly eat rye shoots like the geese and swans.
Ring-billed gulls are in Lancaster County all winter, feeding on anything edible in landfills, fields and parking lots. But in March their numbers are greatly bolstered by ring-bills pushing north from farther south and along the seacoast. Many of those migrant gulls, in flocks, along with the wintering ones, drop to fields being plowed to eat invertebrates from the freshly turned furrows. The gulls form entertaining turning wheels as they drop into the furrows ahead of their fellows and right behind the plows. Ring-bills mostly raise young around the Great lakes and the St. Lawrence River.
Mixed, large flocks of purple grackles and red-winged blackbirds pour into this county by the many thousands and spread over fields and lawns to eat invertebrates, corn and other edibles. The grackles have a purple and green sheen to their black feathers while the male red-wings are black with red shoulder patches. When hordes of these two blackbird species arise at once, they block out the background as effectively as snow geese do.
Many of the migrant grackles and red-wings in this county stay here to nest. Soon their great multitudes break into small groups to begin nest building, the grackles among half-grown, planted coniferous trees on lawns and the red-wings in farmland cattail marshes.
Many American robins winter in Lancaster County, but early in March the numbers of those wintering robins is greatly bolstered by incoming migrants. Scores, even hundreds, of migrating robins spread over lawns and fields to eat earthworms and other invertebrates. But like blackbirds, robins soon disperse from their migrant gatherings to build nurseries in small trees and bushes on lawns and in hedgerows between fields. By the end of March, male robins are in full song at dawn and dusk and females are making cradles of mud and grass by the middle of April in this area. Watch for these migrant birds in their great flocks the rest of this spring and succeeding ones. The migrations of those innumerable birds make this time of the year exciting, which is one of my favorites.
But the weather in Lancaster County finally warmed on March 7 and stayed warm for that time of the year until at least March 13th, the time of this writing. Migrant birds suddenly burst forth and poured into this area from March 10 through at least the 13th, like water from a newly-broken dam, creating living floods that arrived here, literally, overnight.
Spring didn't suddenly appear without warning, however. Daylight each succeeding evening had been getting noticeably longer since mid-January. And the sun continually got "higher" and hotter in the sky each day.
Spring floods made Lancaster County interesting from March 10 through the 13th in 2015. First was the flooding of water on fields and meadows and across roads from melting snow and rain that fell on March 10. Then floods of a few kinds of migrant birds, sensing the increased amount of daylight each day and the warming temperatures, suddenly poured into this area, starting on March 10, causing excitement among birders and non-birders alike. Those birds, as during every early spring in Lancaster County, but usually during the third week in February, are snow geese, tundra swans, ring-billed gulls, mixed flocks of purple grackles and red-winged blackbirds, and American robins. All those species stay in this county for a couple of weeks, or more, depending on the weather, before continuing their migrations, or spreading out and settling into local nesting areas, depending on the species. And all these adaptable species make use of human-made fields, impoundments and lawns, which benefits them and us.
Twice a day migrant snow geese and tundra swans join resident Canada geese on fields where they all feed on waste corn kernels from last autumn's harvests and the green blades of winter rye. When full, flocks of snows, Canadas and swans fly noisily to human-made impoundments to rest, digest, preen their feathers and socialize until hungry again.
Snow geese usually travel in great, clamorous hordes that resemble waves sliding across the sky like water up a beach, or a blizzard of giant snow flakes dropping to a field or a lake. Some snow goose blizzards are so large and thick with birds that the background is completely blocked from view. Sometimes those geese are so numerous on a field that, from a distance, it looks like snow fell only on that one field.
Tundra swans also travel about in flocks, but ones not nearly as numerous with birds as the snows. The swans move from place to place in V's or long lines of scores of birds, many of which are calling "woo" or "woo-hoo" at once. The swans have white feathering all over, while the snow geese are smaller than the swans, and have white plumages, but with black wing tips. Some snow geese have dusky bodies with white necks and heads. They are the same species as the white snow geese, but are called blue geese.
In March, April and May, snow geese and tundra swans hop, skip and jump north through Canada and arrive on the Arctic tundra to nest by mid-May. After a couple of weeks in Lancaster County I get weary of their presence. Their large hordes that can be seen, or heard, most anywhere at anytime, day or night, get hard on my nerves. But they were spectacular on migration, creating inspiring, natural shows, including when resting and feeding, and particularly when flying from place to place here in Lancaster County.
Much smaller groups of mallards, black ducks, pintail ducks, American wigeons and green-winged teal join the geese and swans in the fields and on the lakes and ponds. Most of these duck species feed on waste corn kernels, but wigeons mostly eat rye shoots like the geese and swans.
Ring-billed gulls are in Lancaster County all winter, feeding on anything edible in landfills, fields and parking lots. But in March their numbers are greatly bolstered by ring-bills pushing north from farther south and along the seacoast. Many of those migrant gulls, in flocks, along with the wintering ones, drop to fields being plowed to eat invertebrates from the freshly turned furrows. The gulls form entertaining turning wheels as they drop into the furrows ahead of their fellows and right behind the plows. Ring-bills mostly raise young around the Great lakes and the St. Lawrence River.
Mixed, large flocks of purple grackles and red-winged blackbirds pour into this county by the many thousands and spread over fields and lawns to eat invertebrates, corn and other edibles. The grackles have a purple and green sheen to their black feathers while the male red-wings are black with red shoulder patches. When hordes of these two blackbird species arise at once, they block out the background as effectively as snow geese do.
Many of the migrant grackles and red-wings in this county stay here to nest. Soon their great multitudes break into small groups to begin nest building, the grackles among half-grown, planted coniferous trees on lawns and the red-wings in farmland cattail marshes.
Many American robins winter in Lancaster County, but early in March the numbers of those wintering robins is greatly bolstered by incoming migrants. Scores, even hundreds, of migrating robins spread over lawns and fields to eat earthworms and other invertebrates. But like blackbirds, robins soon disperse from their migrant gatherings to build nurseries in small trees and bushes on lawns and in hedgerows between fields. By the end of March, male robins are in full song at dawn and dusk and females are making cradles of mud and grass by the middle of April in this area. Watch for these migrant birds in their great flocks the rest of this spring and succeeding ones. The migrations of those innumerable birds make this time of the year exciting, which is one of my favorites.
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Wintering Flocks of Robins
This is March 11, 2015, and the weather in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania has finally warmed to more seasonal temperatures day and night. Time now to start looking for migrating, north-bound flocks of American robins in this area. But I regularly saw three flocks of wintering robins close to home in New Holland in this county this past winter, in spite of the cold wind and snow we've had, though, no doubt, there have been other groups of robins that wintered here. The robins were always handsome, and interesting to see in their congregations in the middle of winter. And each group of robins was accompanied by a few starlings and a handful of cedar waxwings, both of which also eat berries in winter.
Most people think robins go south for the winter and come north in March, but I suspect more robins winter here than we realize. I don't think I ever saw so many wintering American robins in my life as I did in the winter of 2014-2015. And during that harshest of seasons, they mostly eat berries by day and spend nights sheltering in half-grown coniferous trees or thickets of shrubbery that block cold, winter winds.
I found one group of over a hundred robins wintering in the east end of the borough of New Holland. I saw birds of this gathering one warmer winter afternoon running and stopping, running and stopping on a field where they probably were searching for earthworms and other invertebrates. One snowy day, I spotted what were probably the same birds nearby in a group of three, small crab apple trees and on the snow under the trees where they were eating the small, red fruits of those trees and fruit that fell below those trees. The robins were quite the beautiful crowd on the snow while eating the berries. And on another sunny, warmer day, I saw what I took to be the same robins moving across an extensive lawn, again to eat invertebrates.
Another flock of nearly a hundred American robins seemed to be "stationed" in a 20-acre, half-grown stand of red juniper trees, with a few American holly trees mixed in, in farmland about a mile south of New Holland. Hollies have red berries that robins eat and the junipers have berry-like, pale-blue cones that robins ingest as well. The robins there were eating the holly berries and juniper cones, but were also going to a nearby field on warmer afternoons where they ran and stopped, ran and stopped in their quest for invertebrates. Almost without doubt, those robins spent winter nights in the wind-breaking junipers.
The third gathering of wintering robins was in farmland with hedgerows and thickets a few miles northwest of New Holland. That group of close to a hundred birds often consumed the red fruits from a large crab apple tree near a road. Sometimes the snow cover under that tree was crowded with feeding robins. They were a striking, exciting sight.
Next winter, or a succeeding one, watch for wintering American robins. They are more prevalent in the north than most people realize. And the wintering robins' numbers are bolstered in March by north-bound relatives that wintered farther south. By the end of March, male robins are singing to establish nesting territories and attract mates to raise young.
Most people think robins go south for the winter and come north in March, but I suspect more robins winter here than we realize. I don't think I ever saw so many wintering American robins in my life as I did in the winter of 2014-2015. And during that harshest of seasons, they mostly eat berries by day and spend nights sheltering in half-grown coniferous trees or thickets of shrubbery that block cold, winter winds.
I found one group of over a hundred robins wintering in the east end of the borough of New Holland. I saw birds of this gathering one warmer winter afternoon running and stopping, running and stopping on a field where they probably were searching for earthworms and other invertebrates. One snowy day, I spotted what were probably the same birds nearby in a group of three, small crab apple trees and on the snow under the trees where they were eating the small, red fruits of those trees and fruit that fell below those trees. The robins were quite the beautiful crowd on the snow while eating the berries. And on another sunny, warmer day, I saw what I took to be the same robins moving across an extensive lawn, again to eat invertebrates.
Another flock of nearly a hundred American robins seemed to be "stationed" in a 20-acre, half-grown stand of red juniper trees, with a few American holly trees mixed in, in farmland about a mile south of New Holland. Hollies have red berries that robins eat and the junipers have berry-like, pale-blue cones that robins ingest as well. The robins there were eating the holly berries and juniper cones, but were also going to a nearby field on warmer afternoons where they ran and stopped, ran and stopped in their quest for invertebrates. Almost without doubt, those robins spent winter nights in the wind-breaking junipers.
The third gathering of wintering robins was in farmland with hedgerows and thickets a few miles northwest of New Holland. That group of close to a hundred birds often consumed the red fruits from a large crab apple tree near a road. Sometimes the snow cover under that tree was crowded with feeding robins. They were a striking, exciting sight.
Next winter, or a succeeding one, watch for wintering American robins. They are more prevalent in the north than most people realize. And the wintering robins' numbers are bolstered in March by north-bound relatives that wintered farther south. By the end of March, male robins are singing to establish nesting territories and attract mates to raise young.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Swallow Nesting Habitats
Next month six species of swallows will enter the Middle Atlantic States to raise young. These locally nesting swallows, like other forms of life, demonstrate the benefits of species of related critters diverging into different habitats to reduce competition for space and food with their relatives. All species of swallows catch flies, mosquitoes and other types of flying insects to feed themselves and their offspring, but where those different kinds of swallows nest is what keeps them apart; keeps them from competing with other swallows for food.
Swallows nest in three niches in this region, which separates them from their relatives. Those niches are barns and bridges, which is a departure from small caves and cliffs whee they have traditionally nested, tree cavities and bird boxes, and holes in banks of soil and drainage pipes over waterways.
All swallows are graceful and swift on the wing. They have to be to chase down and grab flying insects. And their fast, swooping, back and forth flights over open country, including farmland, are entertaining to us.
Barn swallows and cliff swallows are aptly named because the first species rears young in cradles plastered to support beams in barns and under bridges over small waterways in farmland as they do in small, shallow caves. Cliff swallows hatch offspring on the sides of buildings and bridges as they do on cliffs. Each species forms small colonies to raise offspring, thereby taking the best advantage of the limited space they use for nesting.
Both species make nurseries of mud pellets. Each bird of every pair of both kinds roll mud pellets in their beaks and fly them up to their nurseries. There they put each pellet in place for their nest. The barn swallows make an open cup, while the cliff swallows create an enclosed, jug-shaped nest with a hole in the side just big enough for the birds to slip in and out.
Barn swallows are common in local farmland, nesting in most every barn and small bridge in the region. But cliff swallows are not common here, having few nesting colonies. Both species are deep-purple on top and pale orange below, with differences in details between the species.
Tree swallows and purple martins both had reared young in abandoned woodpecker holes and other tree cavities. Tree swallows still do, but the martins are completely tied to human-made bird boxes and gourds that people put out for them. Male tree swallows are metallic-blue on top and white below, while male purple martins are a deep purple all over and their mates are smoky above and off-white underneath.
Tree swallows can nest as individual pairs and in small, loose colonies, depending upon the number of cavities available to them in a region. And they not only hatch youngsters in natural cavities, but in bird houses, as well. Those bird boxes were erected originally for eastern bluebirds to raise young, but many tree swallow pairs take over bluebird boxes and chase away the bluebirds. Sometimes a few pairs of tree swallows gang up on a pair of bluebirds to drive them off.
Purple martins always live in tight, sometimes large, colonies in the farm yards of cropland. Certain people erect apartment bird houses and/or strings of gourds for the martins, though starlings, house sparrows and other kinds of birds also want to use those bird boxes. Most of the summer the martins keep up a constant activity of catching insects, and a chatter that is pleasant to people who enjoy those largest of swallows around their homes.
Bank swallows and rough-winged swallows are both brownish species that hatch youngsters in hollows in stream banks. The bank swallows live in colonies and each pair digs a burrow in a stream bank of soil above the normal waterline where they rear their young. Individual pairs of rough-wings dig tunnels in stream banks, too, but they also raise babies in abandoned kingfisher burrows and drainage pipes in stream banks. Those pipes are safe homes for developing youngsters until heavy rain is conducted down the pipes, washing out young, nest and all.
All these swallow species in the local area, except maybe the bank swallows, probably have higher population numbers now than ever in their life histories. That is due to their adapting to human-made conditions. And all these swallow species, particularly the more common barn swallows, tree swallows and purple martins, are entertaining to us. This spring and summer, or succeeding ones, watch for these beautiful, entertaining birds that catch insects in graceful flight.
Swallows nest in three niches in this region, which separates them from their relatives. Those niches are barns and bridges, which is a departure from small caves and cliffs whee they have traditionally nested, tree cavities and bird boxes, and holes in banks of soil and drainage pipes over waterways.
All swallows are graceful and swift on the wing. They have to be to chase down and grab flying insects. And their fast, swooping, back and forth flights over open country, including farmland, are entertaining to us.
Barn swallows and cliff swallows are aptly named because the first species rears young in cradles plastered to support beams in barns and under bridges over small waterways in farmland as they do in small, shallow caves. Cliff swallows hatch offspring on the sides of buildings and bridges as they do on cliffs. Each species forms small colonies to raise offspring, thereby taking the best advantage of the limited space they use for nesting.
Both species make nurseries of mud pellets. Each bird of every pair of both kinds roll mud pellets in their beaks and fly them up to their nurseries. There they put each pellet in place for their nest. The barn swallows make an open cup, while the cliff swallows create an enclosed, jug-shaped nest with a hole in the side just big enough for the birds to slip in and out.
Barn swallows are common in local farmland, nesting in most every barn and small bridge in the region. But cliff swallows are not common here, having few nesting colonies. Both species are deep-purple on top and pale orange below, with differences in details between the species.
Tree swallows and purple martins both had reared young in abandoned woodpecker holes and other tree cavities. Tree swallows still do, but the martins are completely tied to human-made bird boxes and gourds that people put out for them. Male tree swallows are metallic-blue on top and white below, while male purple martins are a deep purple all over and their mates are smoky above and off-white underneath.
Tree swallows can nest as individual pairs and in small, loose colonies, depending upon the number of cavities available to them in a region. And they not only hatch youngsters in natural cavities, but in bird houses, as well. Those bird boxes were erected originally for eastern bluebirds to raise young, but many tree swallow pairs take over bluebird boxes and chase away the bluebirds. Sometimes a few pairs of tree swallows gang up on a pair of bluebirds to drive them off.
Purple martins always live in tight, sometimes large, colonies in the farm yards of cropland. Certain people erect apartment bird houses and/or strings of gourds for the martins, though starlings, house sparrows and other kinds of birds also want to use those bird boxes. Most of the summer the martins keep up a constant activity of catching insects, and a chatter that is pleasant to people who enjoy those largest of swallows around their homes.
Bank swallows and rough-winged swallows are both brownish species that hatch youngsters in hollows in stream banks. The bank swallows live in colonies and each pair digs a burrow in a stream bank of soil above the normal waterline where they rear their young. Individual pairs of rough-wings dig tunnels in stream banks, too, but they also raise babies in abandoned kingfisher burrows and drainage pipes in stream banks. Those pipes are safe homes for developing youngsters until heavy rain is conducted down the pipes, washing out young, nest and all.
All these swallow species in the local area, except maybe the bank swallows, probably have higher population numbers now than ever in their life histories. That is due to their adapting to human-made conditions. And all these swallow species, particularly the more common barn swallows, tree swallows and purple martins, are entertaining to us. This spring and summer, or succeeding ones, watch for these beautiful, entertaining birds that catch insects in graceful flight.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Animals in Park Pavilions
I've been in park pavilions many times over the years and have been amazed by the number of animals that benefit from those open, outdoor structures, most of which are in woodlands. Pavilions provide shelter for those creatures, and human-made food to some species.
Most of the creatures in pavilions are either birds or invertebrates. But all of them are adaptable, and common as species. And all of them provide interest, if one is open to that type of entertainment.
Gray squirrels, eastern chipmunks and a few kinds of birds enter pavilions during the day, often when people are in them, to eat crumbs and other edibles left behind on tables and floors by humans. The birds include starlings, American crows and song sparrows the year around, chipping sparrows in summer and yellow-rumped warblers in winter. The sparrows and yellow-rumps also eat some of the invertebrates they find in pavilions. None of the mammals and birds want to bother anybody. They are there only to get easy meals.
Some kinds of native birds, including eastern phoebes, American robins, Carolina wrens and mourning doves, nest on the support beams under pavilion roofs. Phoebes traditionally nest on rock ledges, under sheltering, over-hanging boulders near water in woods. To phoebes, support beams are rock ledges and roofs are overhanging boulders so they raise young in pavilions, porches and other outdoor structures of that type.
The adaptable robins, Carolina wrens and mourning doves also hatch offspring on support beams in pavilions. All these birds are interesting to experience, but please leave them alone. After all, they are protected by law.
Little brown bats could hang out by day under the roofs of pavilions during summer, but I haven't seen that yet. Again, the bats are only seeking a daytime shelter between their feeding on insects at night. Try to leave them alone, too.
Some of the more common invertebrates that live in pavilions are carpenter ants and other kinds of ants, carpenter bees, paper wasps, mud-dauber wasps and a small variety of spiders. Female carpenter bees chew round holes in the sides of the wooden beams. Each one stuffs a ball of flower nectar and pollen in each compartment she made in her cavity so that her larva that hatches in each section will have food to grow, pupae and emerge as an adult bee.
Paper wasps and mud-dauber wasps build their nurseries on the ceilings and support beams of pavilions. Paper wasps chew wood and make several six-sided cells in a cluster that is attached by a single, thin stem to a structure. Mud-daubers collect mud and plaster it to structures, producing a few nurseries, side by side, that resemble tiny organ pipes. There those wasps rear their offspring.
The various kinds of spiders spin their webs from beams and ceilings to snare flies and other flying insects. Spider webs are engineering marvels and pretty to see at times, but some of them are a nuisance in a pavilion during summer when those pavilions are most likely to be used.
These are my own observations of life in pavilions, most of which are in woods. The reader may have had other experiences with wildlife in a pavilion.
Most of the creatures in pavilions are either birds or invertebrates. But all of them are adaptable, and common as species. And all of them provide interest, if one is open to that type of entertainment.
Gray squirrels, eastern chipmunks and a few kinds of birds enter pavilions during the day, often when people are in them, to eat crumbs and other edibles left behind on tables and floors by humans. The birds include starlings, American crows and song sparrows the year around, chipping sparrows in summer and yellow-rumped warblers in winter. The sparrows and yellow-rumps also eat some of the invertebrates they find in pavilions. None of the mammals and birds want to bother anybody. They are there only to get easy meals.
Some kinds of native birds, including eastern phoebes, American robins, Carolina wrens and mourning doves, nest on the support beams under pavilion roofs. Phoebes traditionally nest on rock ledges, under sheltering, over-hanging boulders near water in woods. To phoebes, support beams are rock ledges and roofs are overhanging boulders so they raise young in pavilions, porches and other outdoor structures of that type.
The adaptable robins, Carolina wrens and mourning doves also hatch offspring on support beams in pavilions. All these birds are interesting to experience, but please leave them alone. After all, they are protected by law.
Little brown bats could hang out by day under the roofs of pavilions during summer, but I haven't seen that yet. Again, the bats are only seeking a daytime shelter between their feeding on insects at night. Try to leave them alone, too.
Some of the more common invertebrates that live in pavilions are carpenter ants and other kinds of ants, carpenter bees, paper wasps, mud-dauber wasps and a small variety of spiders. Female carpenter bees chew round holes in the sides of the wooden beams. Each one stuffs a ball of flower nectar and pollen in each compartment she made in her cavity so that her larva that hatches in each section will have food to grow, pupae and emerge as an adult bee.
Paper wasps and mud-dauber wasps build their nurseries on the ceilings and support beams of pavilions. Paper wasps chew wood and make several six-sided cells in a cluster that is attached by a single, thin stem to a structure. Mud-daubers collect mud and plaster it to structures, producing a few nurseries, side by side, that resemble tiny organ pipes. There those wasps rear their offspring.
The various kinds of spiders spin their webs from beams and ceilings to snare flies and other flying insects. Spider webs are engineering marvels and pretty to see at times, but some of them are a nuisance in a pavilion during summer when those pavilions are most likely to be used.
These are my own observations of life in pavilions, most of which are in woods. The reader may have had other experiences with wildlife in a pavilion.
Small, Live-bearing Fish
When I was about 12 years old, I bought a half dozen guppies, three males and three females. I put them in a one-gallon jar with some algae as a natural green in that jar. I fed them the usual dried tropical fish food and changed their water every so often. And, in spite of their small container, the females gave live birth, though most of the babies were eaten by the adult guppies. At night, I would light the light over the guppy jar and watch those small fish go about their daily lives. The most interesting part of their lives was the males courting and inseminating the females. Each male swam back and forth in front of a female with jerky motions to show off the iridescent colors of his flanks. Then he would quickly rush in to inseminate her.
There are three kinds of small, live-bearing fish that are abundant in the wild, related to each other, that I find to be interesting, and bred for the fresh water aquarium trade. They are common guppies, mosquito fish and dwarf live-bearers. Each male of these species has an anal fin that is curled into a tiny tube that directs sperm toward the dark spot at each female's anal fin. That also is where the tiny, free-swimming young exit their mothers' bodies. Larger females of each species can deliver up to 40 young in a brood, and each female averages about one brood a month. The young mature in about two months.
All three of these species are much alike in size, shape, and habits. They all have body colors that allow them to blend into their habitats so they are not so easily seen by predators. Each species has large eyes to find their food items of small invertebrates in sometimes murky water. Individuals of all three live a couple of years, if they're lucky; many kinds of fish and other animals in the wild eat them. All species swim in noticeable schools of themselves alone. And all species are fresh water fish that don't tolerate cold weather.
Guppies are the most popular of tropical fish in aquariums because they are hardy, adaptable and entertaining, and the males have bright colors on their sides, though females are plain beige all over. Therefore, they are the best known of these three fish species. Female guppies can be an inch and a half long, while males are about an inch.
Guppies are originally from the backwaters of small, shallow waterways in northeastern South America where it is always warm, hence this fish's intolerance to cold. Today guppies are in aquariums all over the world and many fancy, even more colorful, breeds of them have been developed over the years. And today guppies have been introduced into the wild in many tropical places throughout the world. They are quite successful as a species because of their ability to adapt to varied habitats and conditions.
Male and female mosquito fish are both plain beige or olive. Females can be close to two inches in length while males are about an inch long. Their original range is the Atlantic Coastal Plain between the Appalachian Mountains and the Atlantic Ocean from Delaware to Florida and west south of the Appalachians to the southern part of the Mississippi River and its southern tributaries.
Mosquito fish live in the shallows of warm, quiet waters of springs, waterways with slow currents and impoundments. This species specializes in consuming mosquito larvae, hence their common name and the reason they have been introduced all over the world; to control mosquito populations. They don't make good aquarium fish because they are aggressive and can be destructive to other kinds of small fish in an aquarium.
Male and female dwarf live-bearers are light-gray all over with a horizontal, black line on each flank. This is the smallest native fish species, in fact, the smallest vertebrate species, in North America. Females may reach an inch long while their mates reach about a half inch. They live in shallows with much aquatic vegetation in wetlands, ponds and slow-moving waterways from South Carolina to Florida and along the Gulf Coast to Louisiana. They are shy, inoffensive little fish that do well in aquariums with other types of small fish.
Whether the reader has seen these small fish in the wild or in aquariums or not, it's neat to know they exist in the wild and have been domesticated for aquariums and to be introduced in warmer areas around the world. They are handsome, little fish with interesting life histories, fish well-worth knowing in the wild or in aquariums.
There are three kinds of small, live-bearing fish that are abundant in the wild, related to each other, that I find to be interesting, and bred for the fresh water aquarium trade. They are common guppies, mosquito fish and dwarf live-bearers. Each male of these species has an anal fin that is curled into a tiny tube that directs sperm toward the dark spot at each female's anal fin. That also is where the tiny, free-swimming young exit their mothers' bodies. Larger females of each species can deliver up to 40 young in a brood, and each female averages about one brood a month. The young mature in about two months.
All three of these species are much alike in size, shape, and habits. They all have body colors that allow them to blend into their habitats so they are not so easily seen by predators. Each species has large eyes to find their food items of small invertebrates in sometimes murky water. Individuals of all three live a couple of years, if they're lucky; many kinds of fish and other animals in the wild eat them. All species swim in noticeable schools of themselves alone. And all species are fresh water fish that don't tolerate cold weather.
Guppies are the most popular of tropical fish in aquariums because they are hardy, adaptable and entertaining, and the males have bright colors on their sides, though females are plain beige all over. Therefore, they are the best known of these three fish species. Female guppies can be an inch and a half long, while males are about an inch.
Guppies are originally from the backwaters of small, shallow waterways in northeastern South America where it is always warm, hence this fish's intolerance to cold. Today guppies are in aquariums all over the world and many fancy, even more colorful, breeds of them have been developed over the years. And today guppies have been introduced into the wild in many tropical places throughout the world. They are quite successful as a species because of their ability to adapt to varied habitats and conditions.
Male and female mosquito fish are both plain beige or olive. Females can be close to two inches in length while males are about an inch long. Their original range is the Atlantic Coastal Plain between the Appalachian Mountains and the Atlantic Ocean from Delaware to Florida and west south of the Appalachians to the southern part of the Mississippi River and its southern tributaries.
Mosquito fish live in the shallows of warm, quiet waters of springs, waterways with slow currents and impoundments. This species specializes in consuming mosquito larvae, hence their common name and the reason they have been introduced all over the world; to control mosquito populations. They don't make good aquarium fish because they are aggressive and can be destructive to other kinds of small fish in an aquarium.
Male and female dwarf live-bearers are light-gray all over with a horizontal, black line on each flank. This is the smallest native fish species, in fact, the smallest vertebrate species, in North America. Females may reach an inch long while their mates reach about a half inch. They live in shallows with much aquatic vegetation in wetlands, ponds and slow-moving waterways from South Carolina to Florida and along the Gulf Coast to Louisiana. They are shy, inoffensive little fish that do well in aquariums with other types of small fish.
Whether the reader has seen these small fish in the wild or in aquariums or not, it's neat to know they exist in the wild and have been domesticated for aquariums and to be introduced in warmer areas around the world. They are handsome, little fish with interesting life histories, fish well-worth knowing in the wild or in aquariums.
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
Wintering Birds Along Flowing Water
When winter temperatures become really cold for an extended period of time in southeastern Pennsylvania, as elsewhere, impoundments, large and small, freeze over completely. Then a variety of wintering, waterbird species have no choice but to seek other sources of open water, including the slower-moving, but ice-free stretches of freshwater, inland creeks, streams and brooks. There those birds can still find food, and protection on the water, while making those waterways more interesting to us. In the farmland of Lancaster County, for example, wintering Canada geese, mallard ducks, black ducks, common merganser ducks, great blue herons, belted kingfishers, killdeer plovers and American pipits seek food in running water, and/or along its shores, or in the pastures and fields near the ice-free waterways when lakes and ponds are frozen and snow covers the ground.
One freezing, but sunny, day during February, 2015, I drove by a meadow of tall grass that has a slow-moving stream flowing through the middle of it about a half-mile south of New Holland. I saw a flock of Canada geese plucking and eating grass stems near the stream. And I saw a gathering of about 60 mallard ducks hunkered down in the grass to rest in the sunlight, but out of the cold wind, while a half dozen other mallards were swimming and feeding in the stream. Though I see both those species locally almost daily, those geese and ducks were striking in the warm sunlight and beige tall grass. And I was relatively sure those mallards were the same ones that regularly frequent a pond on the northern edge of New Holland. But they were forced to leave that pond when it froze and became attractive to ice skaters. As I admired the beauty of the scene, I thought it would be neat for a great blue heron to drop into the stream. A few moments later, one did! There it waded slowly, watching for fish it could catch and eat.
This winter, I've seen flocks of magnificent Canada geese on ice-free parts of the Conestoga River, and on creeks. They rest on the open water, and fly majestically and noisily out to pastures, rye fields and harvested corn fields to consume green blades of grass and rye and waste corn. When full, those stately geese power back to the waterway to rest, socialize and preen their feathers.
A few wintering black ducks rest here and there on waterways when lakes are frozen, but usually under the sheltering limbs of trees hanging over the water. Those dark ducks, then, are difficult to spot in such a niche. But being mallard relatives, the big, handsome black ducks often join mallards in corn fields in winter to shovel up waste corn kernels with their shovel-like beaks.
Common mergansers and belted kingfishers feed on small fish. But they turn to diving under water to catch fish in the still-flowing creeks when impoundments freeze over. Herons, mergansers and kingfishers all snare fish, but in different ways, which helps make them entertaining. These birds also catch fish at different depths, reducing competition among themselves. The herons wade on long legs and stretch out their long necks to get their prey. Mergansers slip deep under water from the surface, while kingfishers dive from a tree overhanging the water or from hovering into the wind to snare prey near the surface. All these bird species, however, catch prey with their bills.
A few each of Killdeer plovers and American pipits winter on the fields where they feed on invertebrates that are dead or alive when they find them. But when snow covers the fields, these birds join Wilson's snipe and song sparrows along the muddy edges of the waterways. The snipe and sparrows are along the streams all winter, regardless of the temperatures. The killdeer and pipits find innumerable invertebrates in the shallows and on the mud of the edges of the waterways and scrunch down among clumps of vegetation to avoid the cold wind.
Many of the above-mentioned birds will return to ponds and lakes when those impoundments thaw. But the flowing waterways were life-savers to many birds, when they were the only open water available to those birds.
One freezing, but sunny, day during February, 2015, I drove by a meadow of tall grass that has a slow-moving stream flowing through the middle of it about a half-mile south of New Holland. I saw a flock of Canada geese plucking and eating grass stems near the stream. And I saw a gathering of about 60 mallard ducks hunkered down in the grass to rest in the sunlight, but out of the cold wind, while a half dozen other mallards were swimming and feeding in the stream. Though I see both those species locally almost daily, those geese and ducks were striking in the warm sunlight and beige tall grass. And I was relatively sure those mallards were the same ones that regularly frequent a pond on the northern edge of New Holland. But they were forced to leave that pond when it froze and became attractive to ice skaters. As I admired the beauty of the scene, I thought it would be neat for a great blue heron to drop into the stream. A few moments later, one did! There it waded slowly, watching for fish it could catch and eat.
This winter, I've seen flocks of magnificent Canada geese on ice-free parts of the Conestoga River, and on creeks. They rest on the open water, and fly majestically and noisily out to pastures, rye fields and harvested corn fields to consume green blades of grass and rye and waste corn. When full, those stately geese power back to the waterway to rest, socialize and preen their feathers.
A few wintering black ducks rest here and there on waterways when lakes are frozen, but usually under the sheltering limbs of trees hanging over the water. Those dark ducks, then, are difficult to spot in such a niche. But being mallard relatives, the big, handsome black ducks often join mallards in corn fields in winter to shovel up waste corn kernels with their shovel-like beaks.
Common mergansers and belted kingfishers feed on small fish. But they turn to diving under water to catch fish in the still-flowing creeks when impoundments freeze over. Herons, mergansers and kingfishers all snare fish, but in different ways, which helps make them entertaining. These birds also catch fish at different depths, reducing competition among themselves. The herons wade on long legs and stretch out their long necks to get their prey. Mergansers slip deep under water from the surface, while kingfishers dive from a tree overhanging the water or from hovering into the wind to snare prey near the surface. All these bird species, however, catch prey with their bills.
A few each of Killdeer plovers and American pipits winter on the fields where they feed on invertebrates that are dead or alive when they find them. But when snow covers the fields, these birds join Wilson's snipe and song sparrows along the muddy edges of the waterways. The snipe and sparrows are along the streams all winter, regardless of the temperatures. The killdeer and pipits find innumerable invertebrates in the shallows and on the mud of the edges of the waterways and scrunch down among clumps of vegetation to avoid the cold wind.
Many of the above-mentioned birds will return to ponds and lakes when those impoundments thaw. But the flowing waterways were life-savers to many birds, when they were the only open water available to those birds.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Encounters With Skunks
Many striped skunks live in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, probably more than we natives to this area know because skunks are nocturnal creatures. We sometimes smell strong, musky skunk spray, which is the most likely way we are aware of a skunk's nearby presence, when one of them gets in trouble or is hit by a vehicle. We smell them often during spring when males are traveling about looking for mates in unfamiliar territory, and a few have to defend themselves or are killed on a road. And we pick up the scent of young skunks in autumn when they move about in territories they don't know in search of their own home range and encounter trouble or are killed on a road.
The fur of striped skunks is attractive, mostly black with two white stripes down the back. But skunk patterns are variable. Some of them are almost completely black all over, while others are almost completely white on top. Each skunk is about the size of a house cat, but chunkier. There was a time, not long ago, when they were trapped for their fur. I once saw a dead skunk in a trap that was never recovered: What a shame.
I have had many encounters with skunks, some of which I remember vividly. The first one I saw was when I was about 12 years old and living in the country outside Rohrerstown in Lancaster County. On a sunny summer evening I climbed a tree in a hedgerow between fields to see wildlife. A few kinds of small birds were around and then I saw a gray fox walk under the tree I was in. Minutes later a skunk waddled under the tree. Neither critter seemed to notice me in the tree. I was thrilled to see the fox and skunk so closely on the same beautiful evening.
As a young adult, I lived in Neffsville in Lancaster County. One crisp, October evening after dark I went into the yard to look at the stars and feel the cool air. While on the lawn, I heard a peculiar hissing and stomping. Thinking those subtle noises were coming from a skunk, I went in the house to get a flashlight. I flashed the light around the yard and, sure enough, there was a skunk. The skunk did not seem to be alarmed, but I went into the house to avoid an encounter.
Another evening at dusk at that same house, I saw the skunk, probably the same one, come across our yard and crawl into a hole in one of our garbage cans. The can shook a bit as the skunk was getting edible tidbits. The next evening I sat in my car and watched for the skunk to go in that garbage can at twilight, which it did. For several evenings the skunk walked across our lawn and into the can for edibles.
A few years later in Neffsville, we had another skunk in the yard. I built a brush pile in a ditch on the side of the lawn that I hoped animals would hide in. After a heavy rain the ditch filled with water and watched from inside the house for creatures to come out of the brush pile. Two critters did, an opossum that promptly climbed a small tree to escape the water and a skunk that waddled rapidly across the grass.
I co-led periodic night tours in a van with a powerful spotlight in Lancaster County Central Park when I was a naturalist there to see nocturnal wildlife. We saw lots of white-tailed deer, plus cottontail rabbits, red foxes, opossums, raccoons and striped skunks. Some of those critters, including the skunks, were close to the van where everyone got good looks at them.
I have seen skunks while I was on foot in the country or in woodlands. I always give those creatures as wide a berth as I can, but they don't seem to acknowledge my presence. Luckily, I have never been sprayed by a skunk.
I have unexpectedly seen skunks on country roads when driving at night. I remember seeing a couple of them near the Ephrata area, one in the Twin Valleys region and a couple others near Holtwood near the Susquehanna River in southern Lancaster County. I always do my best to avoid hitting those furry critters.
Of course, I have seen many skunks dead along roads both in the country and in towns. They are slow to get off roads because they rely on their spray to save them, not realizing that vehicles are not impressed by that stinky liquid. Dead skunks have relatives nearby, so we know where skunks are living partly by noting where their dead relatives are.
Striped skunks are always interesting to see wherever they may be. As a species, they range across much of North America and are quite adaptable, taking advantage of a variety of habitats, including farmland, woodlands, cities and suburban areas. And they will eat practically anything, another reason why they are successful and common. If the reader encounters a skunk, give it lots of room to walk away without incident. That practice is good for the skunk, and you.
The fur of striped skunks is attractive, mostly black with two white stripes down the back. But skunk patterns are variable. Some of them are almost completely black all over, while others are almost completely white on top. Each skunk is about the size of a house cat, but chunkier. There was a time, not long ago, when they were trapped for their fur. I once saw a dead skunk in a trap that was never recovered: What a shame.
I have had many encounters with skunks, some of which I remember vividly. The first one I saw was when I was about 12 years old and living in the country outside Rohrerstown in Lancaster County. On a sunny summer evening I climbed a tree in a hedgerow between fields to see wildlife. A few kinds of small birds were around and then I saw a gray fox walk under the tree I was in. Minutes later a skunk waddled under the tree. Neither critter seemed to notice me in the tree. I was thrilled to see the fox and skunk so closely on the same beautiful evening.
As a young adult, I lived in Neffsville in Lancaster County. One crisp, October evening after dark I went into the yard to look at the stars and feel the cool air. While on the lawn, I heard a peculiar hissing and stomping. Thinking those subtle noises were coming from a skunk, I went in the house to get a flashlight. I flashed the light around the yard and, sure enough, there was a skunk. The skunk did not seem to be alarmed, but I went into the house to avoid an encounter.
Another evening at dusk at that same house, I saw the skunk, probably the same one, come across our yard and crawl into a hole in one of our garbage cans. The can shook a bit as the skunk was getting edible tidbits. The next evening I sat in my car and watched for the skunk to go in that garbage can at twilight, which it did. For several evenings the skunk walked across our lawn and into the can for edibles.
A few years later in Neffsville, we had another skunk in the yard. I built a brush pile in a ditch on the side of the lawn that I hoped animals would hide in. After a heavy rain the ditch filled with water and watched from inside the house for creatures to come out of the brush pile. Two critters did, an opossum that promptly climbed a small tree to escape the water and a skunk that waddled rapidly across the grass.
I co-led periodic night tours in a van with a powerful spotlight in Lancaster County Central Park when I was a naturalist there to see nocturnal wildlife. We saw lots of white-tailed deer, plus cottontail rabbits, red foxes, opossums, raccoons and striped skunks. Some of those critters, including the skunks, were close to the van where everyone got good looks at them.
I have seen skunks while I was on foot in the country or in woodlands. I always give those creatures as wide a berth as I can, but they don't seem to acknowledge my presence. Luckily, I have never been sprayed by a skunk.
I have unexpectedly seen skunks on country roads when driving at night. I remember seeing a couple of them near the Ephrata area, one in the Twin Valleys region and a couple others near Holtwood near the Susquehanna River in southern Lancaster County. I always do my best to avoid hitting those furry critters.
Of course, I have seen many skunks dead along roads both in the country and in towns. They are slow to get off roads because they rely on their spray to save them, not realizing that vehicles are not impressed by that stinky liquid. Dead skunks have relatives nearby, so we know where skunks are living partly by noting where their dead relatives are.
Striped skunks are always interesting to see wherever they may be. As a species, they range across much of North America and are quite adaptable, taking advantage of a variety of habitats, including farmland, woodlands, cities and suburban areas. And they will eat practically anything, another reason why they are successful and common. If the reader encounters a skunk, give it lots of room to walk away without incident. That practice is good for the skunk, and you.
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